The Lives Between Us (36 page)

“Your mom
chose
to follow you, and it’s simply fate that she got hurt. It could have been you who hit the tree, or you could have lucked out and neither of you got hurt.” She paused. “But it didn’t happen that way. It is what it is. The sooner you accept what happened and try to move forward, the better you all will be. Fighting it doesn’t do any good.” She smiled. “Trust me, I know. The fighting just hurts everybody—but mostly you.”

Mark was so proud of Skye. So grateful that she’d been willing to make herself vulnerable for Jeff. Skye didn’t open up to people easily, and he was shocked she’d laid aside her pride to confess such intimate feelings. If he hadn’t loved her before, he did now.

Jeff sniffled and swiped an arm under his nose. He glanced at Mark for the first time since barreling into the elevator. “Dad’s really pissed.”

Mark held his hands out—one to Skye and one to Jeff—and pulled them to their feet. “He’ll get over it.”

He pushed the emergency button, then punched the basement button. They’d wander around the basement, avoiding people until they found stairs and a way out. They all needed the time.

“I said some shitty things.”

“That’s what apologies are for.”

“He won’t forgive me.”

“Yes, he will. When he comes home, you’ll apologize and talk it out.”

Jeff raised a hopeful eyebrow. “Will you stay?”

Mark nodded. “If you want.”

“Thanks.”

“Your dad loves you, kid. A lot.”

“He has a funny way of showing it.”

“Yeah, well, nobody’s perfect.”

* * *

Mark and Jeff dropped Skye off at her apartment on the way to the Hastings home. Skye threw her keys on the table by the door, drew her jacket off, and draped it over a convenient chair. She dropped onto the couch feeling utterly drained. Dealing with kids was tough. And she certainly hadn’t intended on that confession—hadn’t really even known she’d felt that way until the words tumbled from her mouth.

Skye had blamed Edward for Niki’s death because it was easier than blaming herself. But when Skye dug deep, she had to acknowledge that she’d really been most upset and disappointed in herself—not Edward. Blaming him had simply been convenient.

Her phone beeped again. She sighed and pulled the cell from her pocket. Who was so darn persistent that they’d had to call her over and over again while she’d been trying to calm a hysterical teenager? Skye sat on the edge of the couch, swiped the phone open and looked at the display. Karen.

Her heart started racing and she scooted to the corner, tucked her feet beneath her, and dialed for her messages. Karen’s clipped voice chopped out the message as succinctly as any drill sergeant. All that was missing was the yelling.

“Skye this is Karen. Remember me? The editor you promised a fantastic, unique article on Senator Hastings weeks ago? The person who signs your paychecks? Time’s up. Darlene’s back, so you’re off the hook for her letters. You have no distractions. Get the Senator’s story on my desk by Friday or find another job.” Click.

Skye sighed and yanked on her hair. “Great. Just great.”

She had an uncoordinated mass of lines that totally lacked any logical organization known to man, that only a reader with ADD might be able to understand. It was light years from being in shape to share with her editor.

Heck, Karen would fire her on the spot just from the sheer idiocy of it. Now after Skye’s last two visits with Noelle, she’d gotten the sickening feeling that Edward’s was a story that needed to be told.

It was true that Edward was a political figure beloved as much as any Kennedy. Though his stem cell stance was moronic, Mark was right. He’s a good man. A good politician whose suffering was made all the worse because of his devotion to his faith and to his constituents. But Edward was wrong—people
did
have the right to know. They had the need to know, and Skye was the only one who could share it with them.

Edward didn’t come out and say it, but because he’s a celebrity of sorts and because of his politics, he lived his life under a microscope and held himself and his family to a higher standard than the average person—which was admirable under ordinary circumstances, but not these.

Noelle’s situation was personal and critical. Considering
anything
other than what’s in Noelle’s best interest was unfair to her, him, and Jeff. Unfortunately, Skye suspected Noelle would support her husband in this, even at the cost of her freedom and health. And that was just wrong.

It was wrong to hamstring themselves because of popular opinion. Wrong not to trust voters to make the distinction between ESCs and CBSCs. Wrong to give public voice
any
consideration at all in a critical, private, life-and-death matter.

Obviously Edward wasn’t thinking clearly in rejecting Mark’s CBSCs. Eileen should grow them, and Noelle needed to use them—at least give it a try. And Skye could help. Her article could open the doors for Noelle by giving the Hastings the support and approval they apparently needed from the American people, yet hadn’t even thought to request.

Edward instinctively isolated his family from media exposure to protect them, yet it had the reverse effect. Skye sat up and stared across the room. Was she justifying this to give herself the courage to break her agreement with Edward and write this article, or was she right?

Skye flashed back to the elevator and Jeff hurling into her full force, knocking her off her feet into Mark. In the seconds before the door had glided closed, over Jeff’s heaving shoulder, she’d glimpsed the desperation and confusion on Edward’s face.

As she’d held the boy’s trembling body within the circle of her arms, she’d felt Jeff’s fright and confusion, felt the heat of his loathing, the burning of his tears on her arms. She’d witnessed weeks of Mark’s inconsolable fear and impotence, and her heart had contracted painfully in her chest, pulling away from the searing pain of Noelle’s tears, more than once.

Skye wasn’t deluding herself. This family was suffering tremendously—far more than was necessary because of Edward’s devotion to his morals and career. She’d promised Edward that her visits to the hospital and the family’s inner core would be as a friend, but she’d lied.

Skye simply couldn’t dissect and discard the reporter in her anymore than Edward could the politician in him. She needed to help her friends the best way she knew how. No matter the cost.

* * *

Depressed, Edward wandered back to Noelle’s room as dinner was being delivered. He ate and chatted to his wife while the nurse’s aid fed her and fiddled with her machines. Luckily, Noelle had slept through their son’s breakdown, so he didn’t have to deal with her worry over that. He tried to be upbeat, but it proved to be one of the toughest things he’d ever attempted.

After Jeff left, he and Ben had worked on damage control. Edward personally appealed to the hospital staff, security people, and anyone on the floor who might have witnessed the scene, to keep what they’d seen to themselves.

The press would pay handsomely for dramatic news like his and Jeff’s quarrel, but he tried to appeal to their compassionate natures. And he hoped to God no one had filmed it on their phones. The last thing Jeff needed to see was that popping up on the internet. It’d destroy the boy.

Most people seemed sympathetic—almost pitying. Their pity he could take, as long as they kept quiet.

Edward’s glance wandered the cards lining the windowsill, settling on the one from the Christopher Reeve Foundation. He and Noelle never had the opportunity to meet the actor or his wife before they died, but he’d had great respect for Reeve’s determination and achievements and for his wife’s dedication.

Edward, as the spouse of a spinal cord injury patient, appreciated Dana Reeve’s strength and composure. It seemed she’d made all the right moves and said all the right things. He wasn’t coping with half her grace. He was scared to death. Dana must have been scared, too. She must have had her weak moments.

And Reeve himself had been an amazing man. An inspiration. Christopher Reeve had been in the prime of his life, in great physical condition at the time of his accident, yet complications from the disability had killed him. Even with the best of care and resources, he’d only lived nine years past his accident. Nine very productive years, Edward allowed, but nine years wasn’t enough. Noelle would just be fifty—barely old enough to see her AARP card.

When Shelly arrived to put Noelle through her nightly routine, Edward took the opportunity to run home and talk to Jeff. On the way home he tried to decide how best to get through to the boy. What should he say? What
could
he say? It’s a parent’s job to protect his kid.

Children needed stability, safety, consistency, and love. They had to be able to trust that the adult in charge knew what they’re doing and would take care of them. Edward pursed his lips and shook his head. He didn’t know a damned thing anymore. He didn’t even know how to start. The twelve-minute trip home wasn’t nearly long enough.

Edward drove past his street and stopped at the light in front of the Henry Ford Cottage hospital. A couple of teenagers holding hands crossed in front of him. He did a double take and frowned. Decked out in boots, mittens, and gloves, the kids slowly strolled across the street licking ice cream cones. Jeff loved ice cream.

When the light changed, he pulled forward and slid into a parking spot in front of Rite Aid. Edward hurried to the back of the drugstore and stood before the glass doors. He reached in, grabbed a half-gallon of Dryers strawberry ice cream and headed toward the counter to pay, then stopped and frowned. Pivoting, he looked back at the freezer.

Or was that Noelle who loved strawberry? Maybe fudge brownie was Jeff’s favorite. He slowly returned to the ice cream. Mint chocolate chip? Edward frowned. Or did he like drumsticks better?

Oh for God’s sake!
He grabbed one of each and headed for the counter. Climbing in the car he executed a quick U-turn and headed home. Mark looked up from the newspaper he was reading, his eyes widening as Edward unpacked the ice cream.

“Ice cream orgy. Yessss.” Mark smiled.

“Had trouble making up my mind,” he mumbled as he shrugged out of his coat and threw it over a nearby chair. “Where’s Jeff?”

“In his room with Joseph.”

Great. With his grandfather, undoubtedly doing Edward’s job. “Did he eat?”

Mark stood and put on his coat. “Had some spaghetti. I tried to talk to him on the way home, but he pretty much shut me down.” Mark held his gloves in his hand, paused and looked at him. “I don’t know exactly what went down, but he’s just a confused kid. He didn’t mean what he said. He feels bad about it.”

Edward looked at his best friend. Yes, he did. It’d been loud and ugly, but honest. They’d both meant what they’d said. “Thanks for staying.”

“Yeah, of course.” Mark pushed his hands in his gloves. He shifted awkwardly. “If you want to talk, we could go out for a beer sometime…”

Mark was not the person he needed to talk to, but he appreciated the offer. He nodded and inclined his head toward the ice cream. “Want some dessert?”

“Naw, I’m gonna take off.” Mark headed out the back door, waving off Edward’s thanks.

Edward got out two big bowls. After a brief hesitation, he loaded both bowls with small scoops of each flavor and topped Jeff’s off with the drumstick. Ice cream and spoons in hand, he headed for the stairs.

Joseph reached the bottom of the stairs. He looked at the dessert, then at Edward. “I hope one of those is for me.”

“Sure.” Edward handed his over to his father-in-law. “Jeff okay?”

“He’s pretty done in, but he’s fine.” He motioned to the kitchen. “Let’s eat in here.”

“I’m just going to take this up to him and have a little talk.”

“Now’s probably not a good time. Why don’t you wait ’til morning?”

Because I'm here now and I want to talk to my son.
Edward shifted his weight. He hated explaining himself to his father-in-law. “Look, we had a fight at the hospital, and I—”

“I know. Jeff told me.”

Of course he did
. “Well great, but now I’m going to speak with my son.”

Joseph put a hand on his arm. “Now’s not the time—”

Edward spun around and scowled at Joseph. “Look, just so were on the same page, Joseph, I know I’m not handling this well—but I
am
trying. I’ve not been around to raise my son as much as you were with Noelle, and I’m aware that my career is stressing us all, but Jeff is still
my
son, and I’ll decide what’s best for him.”

Edward plunged on, needing to get this off his chest. “I know he feels guilty about the accident, but he cannot help Noelle recover. He needs to go to school and get on with his life. Noelle will probably never be able to do the things she did for him—with him—before, and he’ll have to adjust to that. The sooner he accepts this, the better off he’ll be.”

“I agree.”

“You do?” Edward narrowed his eyes. Joseph never agreed with him.

“I explained this to him.”

“You did?”

“These circumstances are very difficult for everybody—especially you. Jeff needs to accept that you have a demanding career and even though he might resent the amount of time you spend at work instead of with him, you’re still his father, and he needs to listen to and respect you.”

Edward stood there, stunned.

“Edward, you might not be the perfect father, but I know you’re doing your best.” Joseph paused. “Now that Noelle’s hurt, Jeff needs to grow up. He needs to step up to the plate and help the family by doing what’s asked of him. That’s the best way to help his mother.”

Joseph frowned.

“I think he was a bit stunned at the comin’-to-Jesus talk we had. I don’t think anything you say tonight will sink in. He’ll hear it better in the morning.”

On the contrary, Joseph had unwittingly given Edward the opportunity to be the good cop for once. This was the perfect time for Edward to mend fences with his son.

“I… Thank you.” Edward swallowed a lump and then cleared his throat. “I won’t keep him long, I just wanted to be sure he’s all right and say goodnight. And Joseph? Thanks for all your help. I know this isn’t easy for you, either, seeing your daughter so badly hurt. And even though you’re retired, I realize you have a life, and we really appreciate your help with Jeff.”