The Lives Between Us (28 page)

“It’s all my fault. Why’d she do it?” he blubbered like a little kid.

Dad patted him on the back and urged him toward the waiting car. He climbed in the backseat with him, while Ben drove. Ben only drove when Dad had work to do. Jeff sniffled and scrubbed the tears from his face, suddenly fighting off conflicting emotions. For the first time since he was a kid, he felt important.

He turned toward the tinted windows, too ashamed to look at his father. He wished he could just disappear into the car seat, evaporating into nothingness to hide his humiliation. Dad probably hated him for what he’d done to Mom.

Instead of putting on his seatbelt, Dad hugged him close. Jeff resisted for a moment, then slouched and dropped his head against his father’s shoulder. His soft camel-hair coat rubbed against Jeff’s cheek as Dad’s chest expanded and then dropped—over and over again. Jeff looked up, worried by his father’s irregular breathing and the tears shimmering in his red eyes. His stomach turned sour and clenched. Dad never cried—not since Grandma Myra died.

“Is Mom going to die?” Jeff forced the words through the lump in his throat.

Dad shook his head. “No.” He cleared his throat. “No. She is
not
going to die. We’re going to get her the best doctors, and she’ll be fine.”

Dad pulled away from him to get a better look at his face. Out of the corner of Jeff’s left eye he saw his stare, he felt his concern, but Jeff still couldn’t look at him. He scowled harder at the car floor.

“Not your fault, Jeff. It was an accident.”

Jeff frowned so hard that it felt like he had tape stretched tight across his forehead holding the skin together. “It
was
my fault. She followed me out of bounds and flew into a tree.”

“What? Tell me exactly what happened.”

I just told you.
Jeff rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and then swallowed hard against the lump in his throat choking him. He blew out a breath through his mouth, unable to breath through his nose.

“We were on Upper Powderhorn. There was this great, fresh powder. It didn’t look dangerous—like the bottom of the Big Burn, only steeper—but it was out of bounds. Mom told me not to go, but it was too good to pass up.”

“Did you run into Mom?”

He glared at his father. He wasn’t
that
stupid. “
No
. I took off through the trees and was doing great, but then I hit a dirt patch or something and just stopped dead. Mom swerved to avoid hitting me and went over this steep drop. She cleared the rocks, but she sat down on the landing and rolled into some trees.” He saw the anguish on his father’s face through his tears and looked away. “She makes me wear a helmet, why wasn’t she?”

Dad’s hand on his shoulder clenched in a painful vise grip. “A helmet wouldn’t have helped in this instance, son.”

He and Noelle often skied through trees and flew off any little jump they could find, but never out of bounds. Why the hell had she followed Jeff out of bounds? Because she didn’t want Jeff to get hurt and…she knew what it’d look like for a senator’s kid to be caught breaking the rules.
Shit
.

Heart heavy, Edward wanted to yell at his son for being so stupid, but he’d done plenty of dumb things as a kid. And Noelle was just being Noelle. She would have done whatever it took to protect her family. He rubbed his son’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Mistakes happen.”

“It’s
not
okay.”

“We’ll make it okay.”

“But she’s so hurt,” he whispered.

“I know.” Edward had never been so frightened in his life as when he’d seen Noelle laid out on that stretcher. She’d been so pale, and though they’d put a neck brace on her and had taped her head still, it’d been terrifying seeing Noelle move only her wide brown eyes from side to side, especially knowing that that was all she could move.

A crinkled white tube connected to a plastic piece disappeared into gauze at Noelle’s neck below her neck brace. It was connected to a machine at the other end about the size of his car’s battery. She’d had trouble breathing in flight, and they’d had to put her on a ventilator to keep her alive.

She couldn’t even breathe on her own. Edward blinked back tears.

“What’re we going to do?” Jeff asked in a small voice.

Edward shook his head. This time he didn’t have all the answers—hell, he didn’t have
any
answers. “I don’t know.”

Edward clung to his son, taking comfort in his warmth and bulk. They’d do what they had to do.

When they pulled up outside the back of the hospital, Edward put a hand on Jeff’s knee. “Wait here a minute.”

He got out, shut the door, and met Ben at the back of the car. Edward moved close and lowered his voice. “Whatever happens, I want the details of this accident buried so deep nobody besides Noelle and Jeff ever knows what really happened on that slope.” He stared into Ben’s serious blue eyes. “You get me? If there’s a ski patrol report, it needs to disappear. Immediately. Air ambulance report? Gone.” He pointed at the car. “That boy is suffering enough without the world knowing Noelle was nearly killed trying to keep him out of trouble.”

“But she’s a hero. It’s amazing press.”

“Screw the press.” Edward jabbed at the car. “That’s my son. So help me, if word of this leaks out...” He took a deep breath and pursed his lips to bite back the threat. Several seconds later he continued in a calm, measured voice. “My wife was hurt in a skiing accident. Period. Am I clear?” Edward pinned Ben with an uncompromising, unwavering look.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay.” He knocked twice on the top of the car and opened the door for Jeff. “Let’s go.”

Edward walked through the hospital’s service entrance with his usual confident, controlled stride. With Jeff anchored to his right and Ben flanking his left, they were met by the hospital administrator and she escorted them to Noelle’s private room in ICU. Noelle was off getting tests, giving Edward time to pore over the large file of information his staff had hastily compiled on the cutting-edge treatment for spinal cord injuries.

Edward called Joseph to pick up Jeff and was relieved that his father-in-law had been able to rearrange his schedule to care for his grandson. Edward was uncharacteristically obstructive with the press over the next few days. He had Ben refuse all interviews and phone calls, devoting every waking hour to reading about spinal cord injuries and potential treatments. The only people allowed in and out of Noelle’s room, besides medical personnel, were his son, Joseph, Mark, and Ben. The others could wait.

Edward turned back to the printouts, discouraged. There was so much to learn. Methylprednisone, morphine, blood pressure, oxygen saturation levels, infection and pneumonia worries, suctioning, complete and incomplete breaks…the list seemed never-ending.

Mark leaned around the doorway. “Hey, how’s she doing?”

“Okay.” Edward tried to sound optimistic in case Noelle had awakened. “Come in and see for yourself.”

Mark hesitated. “I’ll come back later. Skye’s with me. We’re kangarooing the twins and I wanted to check on Noelle before we went to dinner.”

Edward appreciated that Mark kept Skye out of the room to protect their privacy. Skye’s insinuations at the end of her interview made Edward wary. Skye was his best friend’s girlfriend, and important to Mark, yet...

He wasn’t clear on exactly what Skye thought she knew about his past, but his wife liked her. Both she and Mark couldn’t be wrong, so he’d have to trust their instincts. A visit with the effervescent Skye might raise Noelle’s spirits. Maybe interaction with a female who wasn’t caring for her would be good for her.

Edward tossed down the article he was reading and waved his friend in. “Visit awhile.” He could use a distraction, too.

With his arm stretched out behind him, Mark pulled Skye into the room. She smiled brightly. “Hi, Edward. How’s it going?”

“Okay. Skye, look, I hate to say this, but I have to.” He held her gaze. “Anytime you set foot in this room, you are a friend of the family—not a reporter. Can you do that?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Edward pursed his lips. “Good.”

Skye mentally slapped herself.
How’s it going? His wife is paralyzed and on a ventilator. How do you think it’s going, idiot?

Skye moved past Edward into the room. After the way their interview ended, she’s shocked he’d even allowed her in. She glanced at Mark to see if he noticed any awkwardness, but his attention was focused on Edward.

Skye inched closer to the foot of the bed. She wished they’d stopped at the gift shop to pick up a colorful flower arrangement. It felt strange visiting someone in the hospital empty-handed.

Her gaze centered on the profusion of flowers lining the windowsill. Then again maybe chocolates or a stuffed animal would have been a better choice. After a quick smile and hi to Noelle, Skye kept her eyes trained on the flowers so she wouldn’t gawk at her.

She’d grown used to the machines, wires, alarms and tubes in the NICU, but all of that sized up for a full-grown woman seemed even more intimidating. Noelle, lying flat on her back, with all the braces, tubes, IVs, and sheets covering her body, seemed to shrink in the busy bed. A metal headband screwed into her skull was attached to weights at the head of her bed.
Yow—how could that not hurt?

Skye’s glance dropped to the side of the bed and the large plastic bag hanging from the railing, collecting amber-colored urine. She quickly averted her eyes to look at Noelle’s face. It was weird visiting someone who couldn’t communicate.

How did one visit with them? Skye guessed you talked to them and they had to listen—but that was a monologue, not a conversation. She avoided moving closer to the bed, into Noelle’s range of vision. Anxious about telegraphing her nervousness and pity, Skye sat in the chair Edward vacated and divided her attention between Mark and Edward’s conversation and Noelle.

“She’s doing as well as can be expected. The specialist says that she got great immediate care. The ski patrol and Aspen doctors did everything right. Since then, they’ve managed to reduce the swelling and contain the damage to the C4-C5 region with the Methylprednisolone.” He looked at Noelle. “But she can’t breathe without the ventilator.”

Mark lowered his voice, as if keeping a secret. “Is that permanent?”

“Hopefully not.”

“So.” Mark moved closer and Skye strained to hear his question. “What’re you going to do?”

Edward blew out a deep breath and wound his hand around back of his neck, massaging. When he looked up, the brightness in his eyes tore at her heart. Right after Niki died, Skye prayed for this man and others like him blocking stem cell research to know her pain, but that didn’t mean she wanted innocent bystanders involved in the retribution—she just wanted him to understand. His naked agony made Skye feel like an intruder. Pushing away the remorse, she looked away. Now he knew.

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. He moved with Mark to the doorway, out of Noelle’s limited range of vision but close enough that Edward could watch her every breath.

His ragged voice broke with emotion. “I don’t know what we’re going to do. I’m in a holding pattern right now. She’s pretty out of it. At least she’s not feeling any physical pain. With the ventilator, she can’t talk. She can’t write, so it’s pretty much a guessing game as to what she’s really feeling.

“She cried a little, but she moved her eyes back and forth when I asked her if she was in pain.” Edward’s shoulders slumped. “I feel so damn helpless. The most I can do is stroke her hair and talk to her. But what do I say?” He looked at Mark, as if hoping for suggestions. “Maybe it’s a good thing she sleeps so much.”

Mark opened his mouth and then snapped it shut before pulling his friend close for a hard hug. He thumped his back a couple of times, then let go. Edward puffed his cheeks and then blew out as he gestured toward two stacks of files, each three inches high, lined up on the bedside tray.

“I’ve been reading all I can about treatment options. My staff offered to research alternatives. They love Noelle, and I need the help too much to turn them down.” Edward looked at Mark. “In injuries like these, there’re small windows of opportunity—very small—for various things.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s all so damn complicated.”

Feeling like an interloper, Skye stood and eased closer to the Noelle's bed. She felt strangely compelled to touch Noelle’s arm, gently rub the bare skin to try and comfort her. What must it be like from her perspective, flat on her back, in a stiff, ill-fitting hospital gown, with a hard plastic tube crammed down her throat and screws sticking out of her head, completely unable to move? She couldn’t even scratch an itchy nose—how awful. Noelle’s cracked lips looked dry. Skye looked around the bedside for some Chapstick.

“I’ve got to give the press a statement at seven.” Edward looked at his watch. “There’s really not much to tell. I wish they’d go away.”

Skye glanced at Edward, wondering if this was a hint for her to leave, but he wasn’t looking at her. She really shouldn’t be here. She should be home, working on her article from Edward’s interview. It’d be especially timely now, but Skye was curiously unmotivated. Every time she’d tried to write, she sat at her computer typing gibberish. Utter crap.

Skye put her inability to write down to guilt. She could have—should have— scooped everybody with the sensational news of Noelle’s accident. Karen would probably fire her on the spot if she ever found out that Skye had been there when Edward learned of Noelle’s accident and didn’t break the news—or at least leak the info to someone at the paper who didn’t have a personal conflict.

It was Skye’s job, and it’d be payback—payback for Edward, but Noelle had been nothing but kind to her.

Skye looked down and started as Noelle stared right back at her. Her dark brown eyes were so focused, it was as if she’d read her mind. For a guilty minute, all Skye could do was stare back.

“Hi,” she said softly.

Noelle blinked once, long and slowly.

Skye’s eyes widened in hope and awe. Noelle really could communicate—at least a little. She released the breath she’d been holding and smiled. “Are you in pain?”