The Lives Between Us (32 page)

“What’s involved?”

A brunette nurse breezed in the room. “Excuse me. It’s time to get Noelle ready for bed.”

“Okay, thanks, Sally.” Edward moved to Noelle and rubbed her shoulder. “We’ll be back in a little bit, honey.”

“Not us. We’ve gotta get some dinner.” Mark leaned close to Noelle to kiss her cheek. A microburst of frustration and horror flickered across Mark’s face at the tears wetting Noelle’s eyes, before he masked it with a false smile and chiding look. “Naw, don’t cry. I’ll stop by tomorrow to visit. I’ll even bring you a surprise. Just wait and see; you’ll love it,” he promised, then sent Edward a pleading look as the tears trickled down Noelle’s cheeks.

“Be back, sweetheart,” Edward said, gripping Mark’s shoulder in a tight grasp.

Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled with Noelle’s distress, then a hardness glittered in his brown eyes, and he allowed Edward to push him from the room. Skye followed, almost beating them through the door in her haste to run away from everybody’s raw emotions.

“What was that all about?” Mark asked, swinging an arm wide toward Noelle’s room.

Edward kept walking. “Noelle hates this bedtime ritual—more than everything else, I think.”

“Why? What the hell do they do to her?”

They followed Edward past more guards, into an empty alcove. Ignoring the clusters of cloth chairs, they stood together forming a close triangle, waiting for Edward to continue.

“Nothing sadistic. They give her her medication. Bathe her. Do about a half hour of stretching and flexing her arms and legs. Then they put splints on her legs to prevent foot drop and on her arms to keep her fingers from clenching into fists. She hates the bowel program the most.

“Because she’s paralyzed, her bowels don’t work on their own, so they have to push it out of her every night—if it doesn’t come spontaneously. I always leave. Though the staff is kind and professional, it’s got to be totally humiliating for her.

“The psychiatrist we both see was emphatic that for the good of our marriage—for both of us—I don’t try to take over any of her nursing care. Which works for me.” He dropped his gaze and shook his head. “I don’t think I could handle it.”

Skye didn’t know what to say. It was so much to take in.

“So what about this new treatment?” Mark asked.

Edward pulled a chair close to two others in a corner and they sat. “It’s called Autologous Activated Macrophage Therapy.” He edged forward in his seat, eager to explain their new hope for recovery. “You use the patient’s own white blood cells to regenerate the severed nerves in the spinal cord. There aren’t many white blood cells in the central nervous system. So they take them from the bone marrow and put them with wounded tissue, educating them. Then they take the more experienced, mature white blood cells, and the neurosurgeon injects them into the spinal cord. And that’s about it. Pretty simple and not very invasive.”

“It sounds great, but how does it regenerate the nerves?”

“It doesn’t. It just provides an optimal environment to encourage the nerves to regenerate.”

“Sounds awesome. When do you leave?”

“After Noelle’s weaned from the vent. There’s one other catch; she has to have the procedure in the next week. They aspirated the bone marrow today so they could start growing the white blood cells, but she has to get off that damn vent. There’s only a fourteen day window of opportunity for this procedure.”

One week to get off the vent?

“Is that even realistic?” Skye asked softly.

Edward took a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, and looked at her through worried eyes. “It’s possible.”

Possible—but not probable—hung in the air.

“After having talked to Dr. Abad, that time frame is slightly flexible—but not very. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t even consider admitting a patient to the program with an injury at the C5 level and higher,” Edward admitted.

“But you used your status to gain you a little leeway,” Mark said.

“I pointed out that successful treatment of a United States Senator’s wife would probably lend them a lot of free publicity and credibility to their efforts,” Edward conceded. “So after they reviewed Noelle’s records, they agreed to stretch their inclusion criteria a bit—if she could be weaned off the vent in time.”

“Geez, no pressure there,” Skye mumbled.

Edward shrugged. “It’s all pressure.”

“I guess.”

“Why don’t you let us start growing the stem cells in the meantime, just in case it doesn’t work, or in case she can’t get off the vent?” Mark surprised Skye by suggesting. She couldn't believe he was pushing. “Let us be your back up plan. It takes weeks to grow the neurons. The more mature they are before transplantation, the better we can be sure that they won’t develop tumors.”

Edward got a stubborn look in his eyes. “I just don’t like taking someone else’s cells. And Noelle refused to use Jeff’s if he was a match; I doubt she’d use anybody else’s. You should have consulted us before asking.”

“If there was an established ESC line that was compatible, would you consider using it?” Skye asked.

Edward’s eyes turned hard. “No.”

“But it’s already established. You wouldn’t be taking a life. The decision was made long ago by someone else.”

Edward’s jaw clenched. “It’d be approving embryonic stem cells. I’d be a hypocrite.”

“But it could help your wife regain some quality of life.”

“At the cost of another. Noelle would never consider it.”

Noelle wouldn’t consider it, but would he? Skye frowned at him. “Are you worried people would condemn you for using
any
kind of stem cells? Is that why you’re resisting?”

“No, I’m confident people know the difference between the various stem cells. I’d just prefer to not have to explain things more than necessary.”

He
was
worried. Edward claimed voters were smart enough to know the difference, but when it really counted, Skye didn’t think he really believed it.

“The cells we’re offering are cord blood, so there’s no conflict, and they’re willing to give them to you. They’re happy to help.”

“Only because you asked.” Edward frowned. “They had them saved for
their
child. They’ve paid to store them all this time. Why would they give them to a stranger? I’m not even sure it’s ethical that you asked. Do they know who they’d be going to?”

At first Skye didn’t understand why Edward wasn’t jumping at the chance, but then she realized how messy it could get. Being a senator, Edward’s every move was open to judgment, and he had to be extra careful.

Mark frowned. “No, of course not. And Eileen asked before she told me. She said they’ve often lagged in their payments, and she thinks they’d be relieved to be rid of the cells.”

“What’d you offer them?”

“We haven’t gotten that far, but I think they’d be happy to recoup their out-of-pocket expense. Four thousand dollars.”

“That’s it? Don’t you think they deserve a little more for abandoning their child’s life insurance? Then again, giving them more could be construed as a bribe.” Edward raked his hand through his hair. “It’s risky. God, this just feels like a potential disaster.”

“Jesus Christ, how stubborn can you be?” Mark jumped to his feet, exploding. “Your wife is completely helpless in there.” His arm swung wide, and he punched the air toward her room. “She’s suffering so much—and this is just the beginning, my friend. She can’t even breathe on her own. Isn’t a little risk worth any improvement in her condition?”

Edward’s lips tightened to a narrow line. He lowered his voice to a near growl as he stood and jabbed a pointed finger at Mark.

“Don’t
you
tell me how she's suffering. You have
no
idea. You’re not the one staying awake all night listening to that damn machine breathe for her. You’re not the one wiping her tears as she thinks about the disaster her life’s become. You’re not the one wiping sweat from half her face because she can’t even regulate her own body temperature now.

“You are not the one watching her gag, gagging yourself, while they suction all kinds of mucus crap from her lungs. You are
not
the one to get the nurse when she shits the bed.” He leaned in close and enunciated each word. “You are not the one to beg her not to want to die, because I need her so damn much!” Edward’s raw voice cracked.

Chest heaving, Edward swiped a trembling hand across his mouth.

“You are
not
the one who has to live with the self-loathing and guilt because you need her so goddamn much that you’ll take her any way you can, regardless of her suffering.” Edward glared. “Don’t talk to me about risk, pal. You have
no damn idea
.”

Edward’s hand dropped as the fight went out of him, and he scowled at the ground in shame.

Unable to bear his pain, Skye stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, trying to infuse some human warmth and comfort. Edward locked her in a fierce grip, as if she could be his anchor and take the agony from his spiraling life.

“I know about risk,” Mark spoke quietly.

Edward eased his hold and looked over her head. “This is different. It’s different when it’s
your
risk.”

“So let it be her risk. Let
her
make the decisions,” Mark said.

“I do. But when you have a husband and child to think about and it’s not just you, the risks are magnified exponentially.”

Edward sighed and released Skye. She took a step back. She could already hear his lecture.
You don’t have a spouse and child, so you couldn’t possibly understand
. God, did that attitude come with the marriage license? Skye became indignant on Mark’s behalf.

“Look, Mark, I know you’re just trying to be helpful. And I’m grateful. If this doesn’t pan out, I’ll talk to Noelle about this alternative, but don’t hold your breath. I know you understand about being sick and miracles, but I’m just not sure that there are that many miracles to go around.”

Skye blinked several times. What did Mark know about miracles? “What miracle?”

“Okay.” Mark held up his hands. “That’s fair enough.”

Skye looked at Edward. “What miracle?”

Edward glanced at her to acknowledge that he’d heard her, and then returned his attention to his friend.

Skye squeezed Mark’s arm to get his attention. “What’s he talking about?” She looked at Edward. “What? Tell me.”

“You haven’t told her?”

“Told me what?” Skye asked, struggling to keep her voice moderately low.

“It’s not important.”

“What?” Skye hated that they were talking over her head as if she wasn't there.

Mark finally gave her his attention. “When I was in graduate school, about seven—”

“It was more than that—like eight or nine years,” Edward corrected.

“From the treatment or the beginning?”

“Beginning.”

“Who
cares
when?” She raised her voice in exasperation. “
What happened
?”

Mark looked at her. “I had Hodgkin’s disease.”

Hodgkin’s disease. Wasn’t that cancer? Like leukemia?

“You were one sick man. You had to leave school for six months,” Edward said.

“It put me a year behind, but the chemo and radiation kicked it, and I went into remission,” he said, as if it was no bigger deal than having his tonsils removed.

Mark had had cancer? He’d been sick enough to need chemo
and
radiation? People came out of remission and died. “It could come back,” she said.

“Not likely.”

“But it could.”

Mark bobbed his head, slowly, as if not wanting to alarm her. “It’s highly unlikely. I’m as healthy as you.”

Skye wasn’t feeling all that healthy right now. She felt hollow and sick to her stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t important.”

Wrong
.
Ranks up there among top biggest things in your lives
. Last month when Skye claimed that they didn’t really know each other, Mark denied it. Well, she hadn’t known about Edward, and she hadn’t known this. And he hadn’t told her.

“You could have died.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You could get sick again.”

“Skye.” Mark took her hand. “I’ve been good for nearly ten years. This is not a big deal.”

Ten years? Ten years wasn’t very long. She’d had her favorite sweatshirt longer than that. Mark knew when he’d started dating her that the cancer might come back and he could still die—like Niki.

Eyes wide, Skye stared at him and pulled her hand away. “You have a pre-existing condition.”

“Excuse me?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the idea. “A pre-existing condition.”

Mark’s frown turned to a scowl. “What the hell are you, an insurance company?”

He was getting angry? What right did he have to get angry? She was the one wronged here. “You didn’t tell me.”

Mark had wormed his way into her life and then her heart. He’d made her care about him. He didn't tell her because he knew she’d break it off. Heck, Skye
never
would have dated him in the first place. She was smarter than to set herself up that way.

“It never came up.”

“You hid it—just like you hid your relationship with him.” She jerked her head at Edward. “What else are you hiding?”

“Are you nuts?” Mark’s hands braced his hips. “When do we get to the point of exchanging medical files?”

“Before we sleep together,” she shouted.

Pushing between him and Ed, Skye stomped away. Halfway down the hall, Skye took something out of her purse and threw it in the wastebasket.

“Oh,
come on
.” Mark looked at Ed and gestured to Skye’s retreating figure. “She’s... You have
got
to be kidding me.”

Mark slowly headed for the elevator. Edward followed a step behind. “So. You’re sleeping with her? Correction—used to sleep with her.”

Mark glared at his friend. “This is
not
funny.”

“Uh...” Edward’s face broke into a wide grin as he easily kept pace. “Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not. You have no idea what you did with your big mouth.” Skye had experienced more death in her life than most people twice her age. She was just beginning to open her heart to loving the twins and, he’d hoped, him. No telling how far this would set her back. “God
damn it
!”