The Lives Between Us (47 page)

For the first time in days, he permitted his mind to shut down, and he gave himself over to the solace of the darkness and silence, savoring the rare treat. Since her accident, he was rarely alone with Noelle and never in such complete peace.

Then she coughed.

Edward’s eyelids sprang open. His gaze sharpened on his wife’s face. The sound cut the sleepy fog from his mind, bringing him to instant alertness. Noelle hadn’t coughed in months. She
couldn’t
cough while on the ventilator, yet he’d clearly heard the noisy release of air from her lips. He carefully focused on the faint, yet steady, rise and fall of her chest.

Edward sat stone still, straining to hear the cough again, needing proof that he hadn’t imagined it. At the same time, his eyes swiveled to the left to locate the silent ventilator waiting near her nightstand. The plastic tube lay neatly coiled around the machine like an anemic, sleeping snake.

He blinked twice, unable to believe what his senses were telling him. Noelle was breathing on her own. Edward pulled himself to the edge of his seat and leaned forward to study her. She breathed quite easily, rhythmically, without the help of that hated damned machine.

Tears of relief flooded Edward’s eyes, and he lifted his face to the ceiling.

Thank you, God.
Please make this permanent and not a temporary trick of fate.

He stared at Noelle. Could this really be the result of using the stem cells? So soon? It’d only been... Edward did a quick mental calculation, three weeks since she’d had the stem cells injected. He wiped the moisture puddling in the corners of his stinging eyes with his sleeves. He couldn’t force his gaze from his sleeping wife, for fear it’d have been a cruel trick of his exhausted mind.

He registered a hand on his shoulder. “Senator?”

Edward glanced over his shoulder at Noelle’s private nurse. He brought an index finger to his lips as he rose and followed her from the room.

“You don't need to worry about waking her. Noelle’s so exhausted from therapy that she sleeps soundly at night.”

“How long she’s been off the vent? How?”

A broad grin split the nurse’s face. “This is her second night without it. We began really working at weaning her five days ago, and she’s doing fantastic.”

“Why didn’t anybody contact me?”

“She wanted it to be a surprise.” The nurse arched her eyebrows. “Surprise.”

“So she’s off it for good?”

“It looks that way.”

“Really?”

“She improves a little every day.”

“What do you mean?”

She put a hand on his arm and moved closer. “Well, I’m probably not supposed to tell you, so act surprised.”

Edward nodded, impatient to know the details.

“She’s experienced a little tingling and itchiness in her upper arms and shoulders.”

“It worked,” Edward breathed. “It really worked.”

She nodded. “It looks like it. It’s still very early, but the team is cautiously optimistic.”

Damn, those magical little stem cells were doing it. They were pulling off a miracle. “Yesss.”

“You won’t be needing me or any other night nurse much longer.”

Edward barely heard her comment, nor noticed when she urged him down upon the sitting room couch. He grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it close. Noelle was getting better. It’s true, not a dream.

He stretched out on the couch. Lost in the wonder of her recovery, Edward didn’t even feel the nurse cover him with the soft flannel blanket from the foot of Noelle’s bed. Closing his eyes, he clutched the pillow to his chest and eased into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Those miraculous little stem cells had worked.

* * *

Early the next day, before the nurse woke Noelle for her morning routine, Edward snuck out and drove home. After a quick shower and cup of coffee, he headed to his father-in-law’s house to pick up Jeff and plan their celebration. Jeff and Joseph were co-conspirators in keeping Noelle’s secret, but enthusiastically threw themselves into party preparations.

Edward stopped by a florist and bought a dozen of Noelle’s favorite pink tea roses on his way back to Fisher, while Joseph and Jeff picked up chili dogs and Caesar salad from the Grosse Pointe Café, and a cherry pie for dessert.

It still felt weird eating in front of Noelle when she got all her sustenance through a tube. But getting off the vent would likely change that, too. Soon, she’d be able to taste food for the first time in months.

She was off that damned machine. She could breathe on her own again. Just think how far she could go after the neuron implants. No one dared put to words the thoughts of full recovery, but Edward refused to rule it out. He couldn’t wait to move forward with phase three next month.

Edward looked at Noelle and grinned. He might never get this silly grin off his face again.

“What?” she asked.

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “You don’t know how
good
it is to hear your voice again.” He cleared his throat, thick with gratitude, as he trailed his hand down her cheek. “It’s just so amazing to hear you, sounding like you.”

Noelle smiled. “It’s pretty great for me, too. It feels like a giant step forward.”

“Just the beginning, baby. It’s just the beginning.”

“While you’re in such a good mood, I want you to read something Skye brought me.” She nodded at the papers on top of her silent ventilator.

Edward retrieved the sheets and narrowed his eyes at the title. His jaw clenched tight.

“Edward, don’t look like that. Just read it.”

He looked up. “Have you read it?”

“I have. We worked on it together.”

Worked on it together?
That conniving bitch
. He’d really underestimated Skye’s powers of persuasion. She might not have told anyone about Jeff, but he still didn’t trust her—apparently, with good reason.

“Just open you mind and heart, and sit down and read it.”

He didn’t like Noelle’s soft, cajoling tone but did as she asked. Resting his ankle on his knee, Edward gave the article his full attention. When he finished, he closed his eyes and sat still. Finally, he took a deep breath, blew it out, and looked at Noelle. “God, I wish she hadn’t done that.”

“Well, I’m glad. It’s well-written and compelling.”

He frowned. “And private. She had no right saying those things about the miscarriages. And your tattoo is private. It’s ours.”

Our secret. Our special memorial to the little ones. Until her accident, nobody knew about it but him and her. Now Noelle had so many caregivers, they undoubtedly knew her body better than either of them. Edward ducked his head. Now everybody knew. Knew about the miscarriages, the tattoo, his personal struggles to make the right decisions for his family. How humiliating. He felt so exposed.

“I asked her to include it.”

His head whipped up. “You wha—? Why? Why would you do that?”

“It’s time, Edward.”

“It’s
personal
.” He shook the sheet. “All this stuff, it’s
our
life. It’s nobody else’s business.”

“Sweetheart, you’re overreacting. We’ve a lot more special memories than that. And maybe sharing our struggles will help others.” She paused. “Edward, you’re not built the way I am. I need to talk about stuff. Years of bottled up grief ate at me. Not being able to talk about it with even my friends for fear it’d get out, was…really difficult.”

“I didn’t know. You never said—” Noelle was always so strong and composed. The perfect politician’s wife. He hadn’t realized it’d come with a cost. He felt sick to his stomach.

“I know, and I’m not blaming you. I want you to understand. And there’s something else.”

God, how else had he failed her?

“Edward, without exception, you are the best man I know.”

Hardly
. He frowned and looked down. Never more than now did he feel so unworthy.

“Look at me.”

He looked into her smiling face. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not true. You are. My dad’s a pretty great guy, but honey, you’ve got him beat. You have a heart of gold—twenty-four carat. And you love us so well. Not that you’re perfect—” She raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing look.

“But I’m hardly perfect, either—especially now. Perfect’s highly overrated.” Her voice grew throaty. “But you’re my hero. I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me, so please be happy that I did this for you. For us.

“It’s been hard sitting back being the bigger person while people tried to tear you down year after year. Finally, in this small way I got the chance to share the man I know and love with the world. And I took it. So, please don’t be angry.”

Edward looked into her brave eyes, shinning with so much love and pride… How could he possibly deny her anything? This woman was his life. If his pride took a little hit, so be it. Noelle was pleased with herself. This article was just another small way she got to regain a little control of her life, and there’s no way he’d refuse her that.

He nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

She grinned. “That doesn’t mean I’m gonna show you any mercy when we play cards.”

Edward chuckled, so delighted by her spunk he couldn’t stop smiling. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Later, Noelle had proudly shown off her independence by playing Euchre. With her nurse holding her cards and with Jeff as her partner, they effectively beat him and Joseph. To Edward, this was the most perfect day of his life, eclipsing Jeff’s birth and their wedding by leaps and bounds. His love was getting better.

Edward watched TV in the lounge while they went through Noelle’s bedtime ritual, thinking about how they might be able to plan her discharge, when his cell phone bleeped.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Edward, its Skylar Kendall.”

“Skye. How’re you?”

“Fine. I know your weekends are precious, but I was wondering if you’d have time to meet me before you go back to Washington.”

“I can make time. Besides, I was going to call you. I have a long-overdue apology to deliver.”

“Not necessary.”

“About the feature—”

“I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” Edward paused. There was so much to say, so much he couldn’t put into words. “I read your article, and it was good. Embarrassing, but good. Thank you for including Noelle. Naturally, I’d have preferred keeping the miscarriages and the rationale behind our medical decisions to ourselves; however, my wife felt liberated and, well, her happiness and wellbeing mean everything to me. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“One question.”

“Yes?”

Edward heard a wealth of wariness in the one little word. “Why didn’t you include everything?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Someone requisitioned my father’s records at the Indiana State prison. That same someone has been talking to retired Indiana juvenile corrections case workers, after failing to access my sealed records.” He paused, letting that sink in. “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“Nope, sorry. I included everything pertinent in that article. It was comprehensive and had all the emotional content I needed.”

“Thank you.”

Skye was quiet for several long seconds. He’d probably shocked her with his approval and gratitude. “You’re very welcome. Can we meet tomorrow in the St. Paul’s church parking lot? One p.m.?”

Edward stifled a chuckle. Was her brusque attitude covering her discomfort with praise, or was she simply that focused? “I can make it, but we can meet now if you’re in some sort of trouble.”

“No, I’m fine. And, please, don’t mention our meeting to anyone.”

“Okay.” Edward said to a dial tone.

What the hell was she up to now?

As Edward rolled into the sprawling St. Paul’s church parking lot, he spotted Skye walking through the entrance to the columbarium. Turning away from the cars left over from the last Sunday mass, he swung to the right, parked, and walked over to her.

“Skye.”

“Hi, Edward. Thanks for coming.” The wind caught a lock of hair and blew it across her face. She pulled it back and tucked it behind one ear. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Skye led him to a navy Jeep Commander idling at the curb. Opening the back door, she indicated he should get in. “I hope you don’t mind, but you’re going to want a little more privacy for this conversation.”

Edward leaned over to see a pretty brunette in the driver’s seat. It was a little weird and cloak-and-daggerish, but he got in.

Skye got in the front and faced him. “This is my friend, Jenny Grant. Jenny, Edward Hastings.”

“Senator.” Ms. Grant nodded and held out her hand. Her expression was warm and open, her eyes serious. With just that one word, Edward detected a melodic tone to Ms. Grant’s voice he imagined could mesmerize a man. Her handshake was warm and firm. All business. Interesting combination.

“Nice to meet you.”

Jenny swung into the nearest parking spot. She turned off the car and swiveled in her seat, seemingly content to let Skye take the lead.

“I recognize the irony in what I’m about to say, but everything we say here is confidential, okay? It goes no further than this.”

Edward schooled his features to conceal his skepticism. Coming from Skye, that
was
ironic. “Okay.”

“Jenny’s a reporter at the
Detroit Chronicle
. The last few months she’s been working on pieces about designer babies, the embryo glut, and the embryo black market. She received a tip that led us to believe that someone in Mark’s company has purchased embryos for use in a high-profile client’s treatment.”

“Your source is mistaken. We’d never use ESCs in Noelle’s treatment—if that’s what you’re intimating—and Mark’s company only works with CBSCs.”

“Not completely true.” Skye told him about the ESC line Aviva purchased for diabetes research, and about the difficulties Mark’s had with it.

“Hence the need for new ESCs,” Edward followed her train of thought. Which would cause Mark some headaches, but just because Eileen got replacement ESCs didn’t mean she’d used them on Noelle.