The Lives Between Us (29 page)

Noelle blinked twice rapidly. Skye turned to Edward, wanting to be sure she understood. “One blink is yes, and two, no?”

“She’s awake?” Edward’s bright smile banished the worry wrinkles lining his forehead as he moved to the bed and into Noelle’s line of sight. “Hi, sweetheart.” He moved a big gentle hand over her jaw and across her cheek in a loving caress. “You’re awake. That’s good. Are you in pain?”

Again she rapidly blinked twice. “No? Great. Here, let me put some Vaseline on your lips; they look chapped.” He reached for a packet with a Qtip-looking thing sticking out of it, and with exaggerated care he swabbed her cracked lips. His whole demeanor was so loving and solicitous, it squeezed painfully at Skye’s heart and bought tears to her eyes.

“Mark and Skye stopped by to visit. They’re becoming quite the item, I think.” He teased as he brushed Noelle’s hair aside. “Is there anything I can get you?”

One long blink.

“Do you need a drink?”

Two blinks.

“A back rub?”

Two blinks.

“Itch?”

Two blinks.

“Uh... Hungry?”

A deep frown accompanied two rapid blinks and tears dribbled out of corners of Noelle’s eyes.

Edward looked at them, despair and frustration etched his face. He grabbed the bedside controls and pushed a button to summon the nurse. Edward retrieved the hospital tissues and dabbed the tears still flowing down Noelle’s temples.

Skye looked away and made a mental note to send Mark back with soft Kleenex. Unable to bear the feeling of impotence, Skye leaned toward Noelle, whispering, “You want that damn tube out?”

She felt triumphant at the long blink. “I’m sorry. Do you want us to go? I’m not big on company when I feel crummy.”

Though happy at guessing right, Skye couldn’t help but be saddened at the single long blink. Noelle wanted them to leave. Skye thought that they’d made a connection when she identified what was upsetting Noelle when her husband couldn’t. But she
did
understand.

Skye grabbed Mark’s arm. “Edward, we need to go. I’m sorry this visit’s so short. Maybe we can come back longer next time.”

Mark scowled, resisting her tugging on his arm. “What’s the matter with you?”

Skye pulled him away from the bed until she was sure that they were out of Noelle’s sight. Not sure how acute her hearing was, Skye whispered, “She doesn’t want us here. We’re upsetting her.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me.” Skye raised her voice, calling out, “Noelle, feel better,”

Mark allowed himself to be led from the room. “Bye, Noelle. I’ll stop by later. Ed, I’ll call.”

Edward looked puzzled by their sudden departure but was quickly distracted by the cheery nurse and his wife’s continued tears.

They moved down the hall and Skye pulled Mark to the side in an empty alcove. “I asked Noelle if she wanted us to go and she blinked once. She’s got to feel pretty crummy and she’s got to be depressed—I’d be. And I wouldn’t want an audience gawking at me during the worst moment of my life.”

Mark glared. “We weren’t gawking.”

“I know you weren’t gawking.” Skye rubbed a comforting hand across his back. “But if I was that sick and helpless, it’d feel that way to me.”

“Noelle and I go way back. She wouldn’t—” He frowned. “Yeah, okay. I’ve been there before, and I guess you’re right.”

“Isn’t there something you can do?” Skye asked.

“She’s having the reconstructive surgery tomorrow to open up the spinal column space, remove any bone fragments, and put rods in to fix the spine.”

“Will that get her off the ventilator and allow her to move again?”

“Maybe to some extent, but Ed got the feeling they don’t expect a huge improvement.”

“Will she at least be able to get those screws out of her head?”

“No. She’ll be in the halo traction for weeks.”

Yikes, weeks? Noelle had been so doped up she probably didn’t feel any pain, but were they going to keep her that way the whole time she was in traction? If they were gonna drill in Skye’s head and stick some screws in, they’d better knock her out for the duration. She’d freak. There had to be
something
they could do.

“What about stem cells? Can’t you grow some for her from Jeff’s stored blood?”

“Eileen’s checking now to see if Jeff’s a good match. But even if we have compatible cells, it’s tricky trying to coax stem cells to become neurons. And there are optimal windows of opportunity for various treatment alternatives. This is out of our expertise. That research is still very preliminary. There are significant risks I’m not sure I’d want my wife taking.”

You aren’t stuck in a bed.
Skye put a hand on his arm. “But isn’t that her decision to make?”

Mark gave her a cautious look. What was he thinking? Grabbing her hand, he tugged her toward the elevator. “Let’s find the match first.”

They left the hospital in silence. It seemed Edward was learning the lesson she’d wanted him to, but it wasn’t fair Noelle had been caught up in the fallout. “Noelle doesn’t deserve this.”

“Who does?”

Skye looked at Mark in surprise. “Are you kidding? I can think of lots of people. Murderers, rapists, pedophiles, some CEOs of certain Fortune Five Hundred companies.”

Mark opened his mouth to reply, when Eileen approached from the parking lot. Her high heels clicked like castanets on the blacktop as she marched along with such militaristic precision, he half expected her to snap her heels together and salute him.

Then he caught a whiff of her sexy perfume, the perfect scent for a smart, ambitious lady with the polish of a Southern belle and the mannerisms and discipline of an army officer. He never quite knew what to make of Eileen. Mark introduced the ladies.

“What’re you doing here so late?”

“Looking for you.” Eileen paused a minute and pulled her coat tighter. “I’ve got news.”

Very little got the unflappable Dr. Eileen Warren this excited, Mark thought. Whatever lured her from her cozy lab out into the cold to track him down at the hospital must be big. “Jeff’s a match?”

“Not a good one.” Eileen’s frown changed to a look of excitement. “But someone in our bank is. We’d have to get permission, but I’m sure they’d be willing to donate some of the cord blood.”

“That’s great.” Mark felt as if he could breathe a little easier. A match. A chance.

“So do you want me to contact the owners and begin thawing?” Eileen pressed, obviously impatient to dive into a new experimental program.

Mark pursed his lips, thinking. He glanced up at the softly glowing light post. “Let’s hold off a day or so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to get their hopes up before we know if we can actually get the cells. Besides, it’s still very risky—unless they’ve found a way to control tumor growths?”

“I’m not sure yet. I have to make a few calls.” Eileen brushed aside his concern. “But I could talk to the senator, and we could begin culturing the cells—”

Mark rocked back on his heels, watching small random snowflakes glide through the air. “If we get permission to use them, it might be more prudent to turn them over to the Donaldson foundation and let them culture them since nerve growth is their specialty.”

“They’re
our
cells, Mark. I can duplicate their technique.”

“We don’t have FDA approval for trials in nerve regeneration. Donaldson does. If Ed and Noelle go for this,
which,”
he sent Eileen a warning look when she started to interrupt, “they might not. Growing the cells would be risky enough. We need to focus on our own area of expertise and not spread ourselves too thin.”

Besides, he wasn’t willing to have Eileen experiment on Noelle, as long as there was a more experienced option available.

Seeing that they were blocking the doorway, Mark took each lady by the arm and pulled them to the side, out of the way of an old gentleman and girl moving toward the revolving door.

“But this is an amazing opportunity.” Pulling her arm from Mark’s grip, Eileen crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you should reconsider.”

Eileen was smart and ambitious, but had she grown bored with their work? Was she looking for a new challenge or was it the boost to her reputation that treating a senator’s wife would bring that appealed to Eileen? Whatever her reasons, she really wanted this.

Mark didn’t appreciate Eileen’s persistence, but he needed her. The company needed her. “Look, it might all be a moot point. The owners might not be willing to donate their cord blood. They paid to store it for their own family’s use, not the general public’s.”

“Then why not try embryonic stem cells?” Skye broke in. “Isn’t it easier to coax those types of cells into neurons than stem cells from cord blood?”

“
Nothing
about working with human stem cells is easy,” Eileen said in a dismissive tone.

“And ESCs are trickier to work with than cord blood stem cells. They have a greater potential to develop carcinomas,” Mark said. “No point of helping Noelle walk if she dies two years later from cancer.”

“Maybe she had two years she might not have had otherwise?” Skye pointed out.

“Or maybe you made her last two years an agony fighting off cancer.”

“That’s for her to decide, not you.”

Mark waved an impatient hand. “Finding a good genetic match isn’t easy. Doesn’t matter anyway. Aviva doesn’t use ESCs and more importantly, Ed and Noelle would never use them.”

“You could take Noelle’s eggs and Edward’s sperm, and surely one of those embryos would be a good match for her.”

“That would
never
happen.” Mark shook his head. “It’s the same as abortion to them. Besides, it’s illegal in Michigan to create embryos strictly for their stem cells.”

“Abortion? Are you kidding me? Unless the embryo’s implanted in a woman’s womb, it can’t grow—it can’t live. It’s just a miniscule cluster of cells.” She turned to Eileen. “Right?”

She nodded.

Mark raised his hands palms out. “You’re preaching to the choir here. I don’t have a problem using ESCs, but they do. And it’s their call.”

“That’s crazy. It could mean her life,” Skye said.

“It’s still
their
decision. Not mine. Not yours. We have to respect their wishes.”

“Hers—not his.” Skye insisted.

“But if we can get consent to use our client’s cord blood for Noelle, can we start culturing them for Donaldson?” Eileen asked.

Mark wanted to give Eileen this crumb—she so clearly wanted in on this project, but it made no sense. “Not yet. First we have to get consent. Then, if Noelle and Ed want to pursue this, we’ll consult Donaldson and see what they want.”

“They’ll want full control,” Eileen grumbled.

“Don’t worry; we’ll get our day. Be patient. Besides, this match for Noelle is a long shot at best. Maybe the surgery will go well and we won’t need it.”

Eileen groused a little more before marching back to her car.

“Dedicated lady,” Skye observed.

“Bordering on obsessive.” Mark looked at his watch. “We don’t have time for dinner now, do we?”

Skye had to close the bar tonight and she had to be at work in fifteen minutes. But who would have guessed that Edward would have let her in? She shook her head. “Nope—but that’s okay; I’ll grab something at work.”

Mark walked Skye to her car and agreed to meet at the bar after work the following night. “So how long do you think you’ll need to keep working at McSwain’s?”

“I don’t know. I kind of like it. Mac and Molly are sweet people.”

He leaned close and lowered his voice. “But it sure cramps our social life.”

“Sorry. Besides, you should spend more time with Edward—he needs you.”

“I will. But I can always fit you in.”

Skye made a sour face, pretending to take offense. “Just what every girl wants—to be fit in.”

Mark shrugged and smiled. Reaching for Skye, he pulled her close. “Okay, I’ll fit Ed in.”

She laughed and pushed him away. “Go to dinner, Dutton.”

* * *

After spending several days answering Dear Darlene letters, organizing her notes on Edward’s interview, and filling in for a sick waitress at the bar, Skye went to Faith’s house for a break. Skye let herself into the kitchen and found Mrs. Holmes standing next to a pile of wet clothes, ironing. She hummed to the lively Lawrence Welkish music coming from the radio on the counter. Skye hadn’t known any station played such dated music.

“Hi, Mrs. Holms. Did you have a good New Year’s?” Skye asked as she took off her leather jacket and slung it over a kitchen chair.

Mrs. Holms turned. A warm smile rearranged the wrinkles on her face and her loose dentures clicked. “I did. And you?”

“It was okay.” She scanned the kitchen and walked to the family room doorway. “Where’s Faith?”

“Working on the nursery. She’s so excited the little ones can come home this week—she wants everything to be perfect.”

Skye headed down the hallway toward the nursery. She hesitated in the doorway of Niki’s room and leaned against the doorjamb. Soft pink walls, whitewashed furniture, and lacy curtains should have been at odds with the profusion of stuffed bears lounging in her rocking chair, on the bed and shelves, and littering the beige carpet, yet somehow it worked.

White, black, brown—color hadn’t mattered to Niki. She’d adored all teddy bears. Perhaps because bears were large, strong, yet loving animals. They had the strength and size Niki had lacked.

Faith came out of the room next door. “Hey.”

“Think there are any teddy bears left in the stores?”

Faith slowly made her way closer then looked past her into the room. “Saw a new caramel-colored one in the Hallmark. But I think we have enough.”

“Probably. Hopefully the twins share their big sister’s passion for bears.”

Faith limped on down the hallway. “How could they not?”

Skye pushed away from the doorframe and followed. Hmm... Something was different. Her eyes widened in delight. “Hey, you’re walking without your walker.”

Faith smiled over her shoulder. “Yeah. I’m pretty good in the house. So. What brings you by?”