The Lives Between Us (23 page)

Skye hid a big grin behind her mug. That was the same smartass reply she’d have given to such an obvious question ten years ago. Never mind the fact that the adult was obviously trying to strike up a conversation.

Edward gave him a “no kidding” kind of look. “What’re they about?”

“Fantasy. Dragons, magic, and stuff.
Eragon
was made into a movie.”

“Cool. Who got it for you?”

“You and Mom.”

“Oh, right.” Edward nodded.

Skye looked away and threaded her fingers through Mark’s hand while trying to think of a comment to dispel the awkward moment. Mark’s thumb caressed the back of her hand.

When Jeff reached for his last gift, Edward stilled and watched the boy from beneath hooded eyes. Jeff slowly unwrapped it, breaking out into a huge grin when saw it was a game, then his smile slowly faded. He turned it over and he shot his mom a “help me” look before turning to Edward. “Thanks, Dad, it’s great.”

“You already have it.” Edward covered his disappointment with a sip of coffee, but the nonchalant tone gave him away. He sent his son a reassuring smile. “You can exchange it.”

“I...” Jeff looked guilty. “I can always use two. In case I lose one.” He brightened. “Or I can leave one here, and I won’t have to carry it back and forth.”

Yeah, cause it’s so big and bulky
.
Good try, kid
.

“It’s okay; you can exchange it for one you don’t have,” his father reassured him.

Mark leaned close to Noelle, whispering so Skye had to strain to hear. “Let me guess; he doesn’t like pickles or Shirley Temples either.”

She tipped her head till it touched Mark’s. “Only dills, and he moved on to Dr Pepper last year.”

Skye stifled the twinge of sympathy. Apparently you couldn’t be a famous senator and a great dad, too. She peeked at Edward, who was reading the back of the Stratego game. For a man who served his friends and family drinks Christmas morning, who welcomed his best friend’s girlfriend into his home, sharing precious vacation time with a woman who hadn’t treated him too nicely in the past, his mistake had to hurt.

“He only has three games, Edward. If you’d called, I’d have told which he didn’t have.” Noelle murmured, then louder to Jeff, “You can get
Madden
now.”

Skye didn’t miss the told-you-so look Mark shot Edward. She poked him and raised her eyebrows.

He leaned into her shoulder whispering, “Later.”

Edward stretched. “So after brunch, who dares to challenge me to Stratego?” At least at that he had a chance of winning. He should have called Noelle to see if Jeff had the game but he hated having to check with his wife on everything that related to their son.

Edward felt guilty that he didn’t know these things, and Noelle’s annoyance at mishaps like this made him feel worse. Hell, he was a busy man. He had a demanding career. Just because he didn’t memorize
all
their personal preferences and current likes and dislikes didn’t mean he didn’t care.

Joseph would have known
, his conscience whispered. Well, his father-in-law was the perfect father and grandfather; bully for him.

After they ate Noelle’s huge brunch of sausage, eggs, pancakes, and juice, the five of them spent the following two hours playing Stratego. Not surprising, Jeff and Noelle were driven out within the first hour. Skye lasted thirty minutes longer, but then was defeated, leaving the men to battle for control of the world. Always competitive in college, Mark hadn’t mellowed any more than Edward had. They both loved to win.

Later, he and Mark cleaned the small kitchen together after Christmas dinner. Mark rested his hips against the cabinets, with a wistful expression on his face. Hands resting on the countertop, Mark stared into the living room or beyond out into the softness of the black night.

Edward handed him a Heineken. “What’s up?”

Mark shook his head as if to clear it and took the proffered beer. “Nothin’.”

He stood next to his friend and looked in the same direction, wondering what Mark had been thinking.

“It’s just...” Mark paused and took a swig of beer. His gaze returned to the same spot, to where Noelle, Jeff, and Skye relaxed, watching a movie on the couch under a large chenille blanket. He sighed and nodded at the trio. “That looks good.”

Edward looked at his family. Though their life wasn’t always easy—it was ridiculous to expect it to be with three forceful personalities and a demanding career that worked to splinter the strongest of families, but he was blessed.

And though he and Skye had started out at professional loggerheads, on vacation, she’d put aside her personal feelings and melded into their family seamlessly. She proved to be quick-witted and kind. And she was a morning person. Mark needed that. Skye hit it off with both Noelle and Jeff—seemingly effortless.

When Mark had told them he’d invited Skye along, Edward’s first thought had been to protect his family from a reporter, but from the minute Skye walked into their condo, not a hint of the reporter remained. She honored their unspoken agreement and had simply been Mark’s girlfriend.

He hadn’t talked to Mark about not wanting to read an article detailing their vacation under her byline for fear of offending his buddy. But after having spent a few days with Skye, he doubted he’d ever regret that decision.

Two days after Christmas, Skye swept through the hospital’s front door, barely noticing the ornate Christmas tree in the lobby and Hanukah menorah decorating the information desk. She’d spent so much time in the hospital these past months that the hustling staff and smells that used to bother her now seemed commonplace.

Escaping to Colorado for Christmas might have been cowardly, but it’d saved Skye’s sanity. Spending the holiday in Snowmass with Mark and the Hastingses allowed Christmas to slide by without painful reminders of Niki’s death.

Skye hadn’t had to endure the holes left behind by their family’s tragedy. Poor Peter had had to wake in that house—alone, with no wife at his side to whisper Merry Christmas, with no Christmas tree and festive decorations, no prancing, squealing daughter waking at the crack of dawn begging her parents to open presents Santa had left. No big breakfast or traditional church service shared with his loved ones had awaited Peter this year.

Peter hadn’t gotten to escape, to breathe lightly without heartbreaking truth and loss weighing him down. But Skye would make it up to him. She’d find a way to lighten his burden. She’d find a way to help him find joy again—as Mark had helped her get through what would have been a depressing holiday.

Skye’d had four wonderful days where Mark had coaxed her into the fantastic Colorado sunshine and brought light and joy back into her life. They’d skied, taken long walks, and spent hours talking. The Hastingses had generously opened their home to her. She’d made meals, done dishes, watched DVDs, played endless rounds of Hearts and eaten hundreds of M&Ms—which always accompanied any card game they played—an unspoken, but definite, prerequisite to game playing in the Hastings family.

She and Mark slipped away from the family for a romantic night at a wonderful dinner theater in Aspen. He’d spent that night with her at the Inn making love well into the early morning, then snuck into the condo before anyone awoke.

Skye had been back just one day, and already the gray Michigan winter pressed down on her. Skye tried to shake off the depressing funk, telling herself that she had every right to be down and to miss Niki—and Mark—but that didn’t cheer her any. She’d visited Niki’s grave, and though she talked to Mark several times a day, she missed him. She sighed. Three more days before he’d be home.

Skye juggled her purse and the bag that held Faith’s favorite treat from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, freeing a hand to push the elevator button. She was still puzzling over her bad mood when she entered Faith’s room and came to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway. Faith sat up in bed, brightly chatting to Mark, who turned around when her sister’s glance met Skye’s.

Mark smiled, his warm gaze bringing a guilty flush to her cheeks—as if her mind had conjured him up. Skye blinked several times, but he was still there sitting in that ugly turquoise chair near Faith’s bed. She’d left him in Colorado. She’d just spoken to him a little while ago, and he’d been in Colorado.

“What’re you doing here?” The white paper bag crinkled to protest her stranglehold. “You’re supposed to be in Colorado.”

“Surprise.” Mark jumped to his feet and offered his chair to her.

She ignored him and remained standing. “What’re you doing here?”

His grin melted into uncertainty. “You weren’t home, so I thought I’d catch you here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course she doesn’t mind. Ignore her.” Faith smiled as if she was happy to see the two of them together. “Skye’s not good with surprises—never has been.”

Skye blinked several times. “You’re supposed to be skiing.”

“I came back early. I missed you.” Mark closed the distance between them and enfolded Skye in his arms.

She relaxed and hugged him back. The feeling of taut, warm muscles under her fingers eased her from the shock. Skye snuggled close, enjoying the familiar smell of him. He was back.

“That’s so sweet,” Faith cooed.

Embarrassed for her sister to catch her clinging to Mark, Skye inched away from him and turned to Faith. “Guess what I got you?”

Faith’s eyes were drawn to the white bag with a brown logo and lettering that Skye dangled before her. “I
know
what you got me. Did you get it already cut?”

“Of course.” Skye raised her eyebrows. “How else could you share it with me?”

“Would you like a slice of chocolate covered apple?” Faith asked Mark.

“Sure—if there’s enough to share.” Mark accepted the candy apple Skye handed him and turned to Faith. “How’re the twins? I saw their pictures posted outside the NICU on the way up. They’re pretty cute.”

NICU was hardly on the way up. He’d have to pass Faith’s floor to go to the NICU. Popping an apple slice in her mouth, Skye settled on the end of Faith’s bed and prepared for Faith to smile and launch into a doting dissertation on her babies, but instead a frown lined her forehead, and her face drooped.

“They’re fine. They’ve gained a little weight, so they’re almost back to their birth weight.”

“That’s good isn’t it?” Skye asked. “Why the sad face?”

“It’s good. I just wish I could spend more time with them.” Faith flashed them an embarrassed look and then stared at her hands clasped in her lap. “They only let me visit once a day for a half an hour.” Lips trembling, she looked at Skye. Tears bathed her eyes. “They won’t even let me hold them.”

Wow, Faith hardly ever cried. Mark forgotten, Skye crawled up the bed and wrapped her arms protectively around her sister like Faith had often done to Niki. “Of course they will. Don’t be silly.”

Faith shook her head and hot tears wet Skye’s favorite silk blouse. “They won’t. They say I’m not strong enough yet. They’re afraid I’ll drop them.” A shuddering sob shook her. “I want my babies.”

“Well that’s crazy. Maybe you’re a little weak, but why can’t Pete help you hold them?”

“There are too many wires and things.” Faith sniffled and looked at Mark. “I understand—I really do, but babies need to be held and loved—especially the tiny ones. I wanna kangaroo, too,” she wailed, then broke down sobbing.

Skye looked at Mark. Kangaroo? Faith wanted a kangaroo? What the heck was she talking about? Was she experiencing some sort of postpartum craziness?

Mark raised his eyebrows and shrugged. He glanced at the door as if ready to bolt. He was just waiting for her nod, and then he’d split.
No way, buster.
He’d pushed his way in, now he could stay for the messy part.

Skye brushed the hair from Faith’s face like their mother used to, then awkwardly patted her shoulder. This consoling, mothering thing was Faith’s job—Skye was no good at it. She wasn’t big on the touchy feely stuff. Faith was the soft squishy marshmallow. Skye stifled the urge to squirm out of Faith’s tight grasp and run from the sudden role reversal.

“Faith? Stop crying,” Skye commanded in a firm, Faith-like voice. “Tell me about the kangaroos. How can kangaroos help?”

Faith sniffled and allowed Skye to pull away long enough to pluck a rough tissue from the hospital box sitting on the nightstand. She handed it to Faith, then retrieved several more. Skye turned away and winced at the phlegmy, wet sound of Faith blowing her nose. She glanced at the navy damp spots bleeding across her blouse; ruined for sure. She didn’t mind—too much—if Faith would just stop scaring her this way.

“Kangaroo care is where the mom cuddles with the baby against her bare chest and talks to it, or sings it songs, or just sits there rocking. The baby’s heart rate slows, and it eats better and needs less oxygen, and it’s happy and knows it’s loved.” Tears swam in her eyes again. “My”—
gasp
, “babies,”—
gasp
—“need kangaroo,”—
gasp
—“and they won’t leeet me,” Faith wailed.

Skye met Mark’s helpless look. Never have guessed
that
in a million years, but she was highly relieved that the explanation hadn’t involved a live kangaroo. “Well, I...” Well, shoot. What was she supposed to do with that? “What about Peter?”

Faith sniffled. “Peter does it, but there are two babies” —
gasp
—“and he has to care for me, and he’s got to work, and this all costs so much money”—
gasp
—“even with insurance, and we’re already so deep in debt because of the in vitro...” Faith broke off, her shoulders bumped roughly against Skye’s with her jerky sobs.

Faith was right; Peter had his plate full. The man was a freaking saint.

“Why doesn’t Skye do it?” Mark said.

“Me?” Skye squeaked, and whipped her head around to stare at him. Was he
crazy
?

Mark moved to stand at the foot of the bed. “I’m sure Skye could make a little time to sit with them. And your voices are similar; I bet they’d really respond to her. She’d make a perfect substitute until you’re strong enough—and even after, seeing how there’s two of them.”