The Lives Between Us (11 page)

Mark batted her hands away. “Look.” With a hand to the top of her head, he palmed her head and none-too-gently turned her toward the ice.

Through her watery gaze, Skye saw Jeff glide across the rink to the box. Slowly, the cheering and clapping penetrated her panicked mind. She shuddered and relaxed.

Mark pulled her down next to him, holding her to his side until the quaking stopped. He tilted her chin up and brushed the hair from her face. Concern and confusion showed in his expression.

Skye sniffled and pushed her lips into a fleeting smile. She tore her gaze away and cleared her throat. “I guess he just had the breath knocked out of him.”

She expected a pithy comeback—hoped for one. Anything to gloss over this awkward moment. Mark’s gentle silence nearly undid her again. He squeezed a shoulder and wrapped her into his chest. When she felt his lips on the top of her head delivering a tender kiss, she pressed her eyes tightly closed to keep from crying. Despite the layers between them, Skye felt safe and protected.

“My niece died,” Skye whispered into his neck.

Mark pulled back and ducked his head to look at her. “What?”

“Last month.” She gulped. “My niece died last month.”

Compassion replaced the worry in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I acted like an idiot, I just... He was hurt, and he’s just a kid.”
And we’re adults
.
Adults are supposed to help kids
.
Supposed to protect them and make it all better
.
But I didn’t make it better
.
I didn’t make it better for Niki
.

“How’d she die?”

“She had a massive heart attack.”

Mark turned away and looked toward the ice, swearing under his breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and cleared his throat. “Not at a school sporting event. Please.”

What? Why would he think tha—oh. Mark worried that Niki had dropped dead at school. “Niki got a virus that destroyed a huge chunk of her heart muscle. She needed a heart transplant but died before they could find one.”

“How old was she?”

“Nine. She was only nine years old.”

Mark hugged Skye close. Her head fit comfortably under his chin.

“She was too weak to endure the procedure to collect her own stem cells, so the plan was to seed her heart with placental cord blood stem cells, but we couldn’t find a match in time. And embryonic stem cells weren’t even an option. Research companies said that they didn’t have the resources to expand their stem cell programs as much as they’d like because politicians like Hastings put so many regulations on the federal assistance.”

“Hence the hatred of Hastings.”

Skye inclined her head. Of course that’s why she hated Hastings. “If he’d fought to fund stem cell research as hard as he fought against it, Niki’d be alive today.”

“Breakthroughs like that take years. It doesn’t sound like Niki had years.”

“She didn’t even have that chance.” Skye pulled away and scowled at Mark. “Why are you sticking up for him?”

“I’m not.” Mark raised his hands in a defensive position. “Hey, I’m all for research; that’s half of what we do at Aviva. But it’s not reasonable to blame one guy for your niece’s death.”

“Are you saying I’m unreasonable?” Skye’s eyes narrowed. Her recent meltdown had been unreasonable, but her attitude toward Hastings wasn’t.

Mark watched Skye as if expecting her to hit him. “No, ma’am.”

“You implied it.”

“Have you ever met Senator Hastings? Ever talked to him face-to-face?”

“No.” Not face to face—just across a crowded airport lobby.

“Maybe you should. Maybe you’d find he’s not the enemy. Or maybe you could change
his
mind—after all, he’s not callous or stupid. Besides, you’re the first person I’ve met that doesn’t think he’s great.”

He’s my enemy
.

Mark took Skye’s hand. Turning it over, palm side up, he took off her mitten and traced her lifeline. “Will hating Hastings bring your niece back?”

Mark’s light touch across her bare palm felt intimate, as if he’d stripped her defenses along with her glove.

“No.” The whispered admission hurt.

“Do you enjoy hating him?”

Interesting question. Not did she hate him—that was a given—but did hating Hastings give her pleasure? Hmm. Skye shrugged. “Maybe. Sometimes.”

“Hating takes a lot of energy.” Mark continued to caress her palm lightly with his thumb. “Energy you could be directing my way. Why don’t you honor your niece by finding a way to make something good come of her death?”

Make something good come of Niki’s death? How?

A loud, long buzzer signaled the end of the game. Deafening cheering and whistles erupted from the girls. Mark released Skye’s hand and jostled her shoulder. “Okay?”

Skye nodded.

Mark drew her mitten back on and they lined up behind the rambunctious high school girls. Hmmm. She very much doubted that anyone—let alone Skye, herself—could convince Hastings to reverse his position, but the old adage to keep your enemies close came to mind.

She moved through the open door and looked at Mark. “Maybe you’re right about the Senator, but I’m probably not his favorite person.” She told him about her months of articles that hardly put the Senator in the best light. In fact, they’d earned her a reprimand from Karen.

Mark held the heavy steel and glass door open for her. “Look on the bright side; he didn’t take out a restraining order against you.”

“Yeah, but he can’t possibly like me, either.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I bet you could be quite charming if you put your mind to it.” They moved to the side to allow streaming parents and students to pass.

“Ya think so?” Pulling off a mitten, Skye took his hand and threaded her fingers through his. She held his gaze and stepped closer. Skye tilted her head and lowered her voice to a seductive purr. “You think I can be charming?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mark nodded, slow and deliberate, as he closed the inches between them and wrapped an arm around her back. Suddenly, his head jerked up and he took a step back as boys burst through the rink side door.

Jeff strode out, a bulky duffle bag half his size slung over one shoulder. His dark hair was slicked back, wet from a shower. Jeff was average height—still shorter than Mark—but already he showed a muscular chest and shoulders, and a lean waist. An athlete’s body and natural talent that a pending growth spurt would only enhance. Most importantly Jeff moved with smooth grace, looking none the worse for wear after the hard game.

“Great game.” Mark released her and clasped his godson on the shoulder.

Several passing girls called out congratulations to Jeff. He nodded and waved to them.

Mark turned toward Skye. “Hey, this is my friend Ms. Kendall.”

Skye smiled warmly and offered her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jeff. Good game.”

“Thanks.” Jeff’s lips parted in a slight smile that gave the impression of shyness, but his beautiful dark-blue eyes held hers while he shook her hand with a firm grasp. Not shy, polite. And confident. Skye would have guessed he was older. No doubt this handsome kid had all the girls chasing him.

“Let’s go,” Mark said.

They walked to the Audi with Mark making small talk. He took the duffle from his godson and threw it in the trunk, while Jeff climbed in the backseat. Mark turned the radio down just as an Imagine Dragons song came on, and out of the corner of her eye Skye saw Jeff’s head bob to the music.

“You like Imagine Dragons?”

He shrugged. “They’re all right.”

All right. High praise in teen language. “I love ‘It’s Time.’ ‘Demons’ is pretty good, too.”

Skye heard a muffled ringing. Reaching under the seat, she pulled out her purse, then grabbed her cell. Peter’s number. Uneasiness settled over her. “’Lo.”

“Hey, Skye. Everything’s fine—” Peter said, “but we just wanted to let you know that Faith’s in the hospital.”

Skye froze and held her breath. ‘Fine’ people were not hospitalized. “What happened?”

“Her blood pressure spiked, and she’s spilling protein in her urine, so the doctor hospitalized her as a precaution. But don’t worry; she looks good.”

“Blood pressure spiking” and “spilling protein” were not terms Skye was used to hearing from her police officer brother-in-law, yet Peter delivered it with such ease, he’d clearly become familiar with the medical jargon associated with Faith’s condition over the past months. Stranger yet, he didn’t sound overly concerned.

“Can I see her?” her voice sounded small and far away.

“Sure. She’s in room 236. They’re keeping her quiet, but you can visit.”

Peter had a cop’s instinct to protect. His daughter recently died in the hospital, and he understood the risk this pregnancy presented to his wife. If he wasn’t worried, Faith was probably fine. She had to be fine. Peter was calm, so Faith was fine. Still, Skye couldn’t help asking, “You’re sure she’s okay?”

“She’s fine. We’re on top of it this time.”

Skye cocked her head and frowned at subtle notes of stress in Peter’s voice. He seemed a tad too emphatic when reassuring her “this time.”

“Right. Be there in thirty minutes.” Skye tapped her phone off and gave Mark an apologetic look. “I’m going to have to cut our night short. My sister’s in the hospital.”

Mark made a left and then pulled into a brick driveway leading up to a Tudor-style house. Opening his door, he paused and turned to Skye. “Let me just drop Jeff off, and we’ll get going.”

Jeff opened the car door. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Kendall.”

Skye swung around in her seat and flashed him a smile. “You, too, Jeff.”

“I hope your sister gets better.”

“Thank you.” Faith wouldn’t be better until those babies were born. Skye had researched eclampsia thoroughly and knew that Faith’s condition was only likely to worsen from here. It was just a matter of how severely and how quickly.

Mark popped the trunk, pulled Jeff’s bag out, and handed it to him. “Great game, kid. Tell your dad I’ll be in touch.” Jeff nodded and hefted the bulky bag over his shoulder. They bumped knuckles, and Jeff headed to the house as Mark climbed back in the car.

Skye looked a little pale, but was otherwise holding it together pretty well. He put the car in reverse and patted her arm. “Which hospital?”

“St. Francis—but you don’t have to drive me. I’ll take my car.”

Mark left the driveway and headed for Moross Road. “It’s on the way. What happened?”

“Faith’s pregnant. Last time she was pregnant, her blood pressure skyrocketed, she had seizures and had to deliver Niki three weeks early.” Skye stared out the window. “The doctor told her another pregnancy could kill her.”

“So...this pregnancy was an accident, I’m guessing.”

“Nope.” She looked him in the eye. “They did it on purpose. Twins.”

Mark searched Skye’s face for signs that she was joking, but found none. Twins? Under those circumstances, what could possibly motivate a man to get his wife pregnant? “Why?”

“To make compatible stem cells for Niki.”

Holy shit. Skye’s sister risked her life to make stem cells for the daughter who died? And Skye wasn’t flipping out? She sat calmly twirling her curls around her index finger. He parked the car in the parking garage next to the red brick hospital.

“You don’t have to come in with me.” Skye’s brave words would have been more convincing if her tone hadn’t been that of a determined child trying to persuade herself that she wasn’t frightened.

“I’ll wait. It’s no problem—unless you don’t want me to?”

Skye flashed him a grateful, uncertain look. “That’s fine—if you don’t mind.”

They got out of the car and Mark held out his hand to her. Together they hurried through the hospital revolving glass doors and into the elevator. As the doors closed, Skye clutched Mark’s hand more tightly until they stood outside room 236.

She stared at the door and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Mark raised their entwined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of hers. He peeled her fingers away and nudged her forward. “I’ll be over there.”

Skye nodded and walked toward the door.

Inside Faith’s room, the shades were drawn and the lights were out, giving the dark, quiet room a spooky feeling. Skye had forgotten how much the unnatural darkness bugged her last time. From the minute she walked in the room, her lungs tightened and the walls hemmed in on her as if she were trapped in a coffin or buried alive.

Faith lay on her side in the bed with her back facing the door, a big hump under white blankets and sheets, sleeping. Skye tiptoed around the bed to face Faith, who had a stark white washcloth draped across her forehead and eyes. A quick scan revealed a little fullness in her cheeks and slight puffiness in her hands that hadn’t seemed present earlier, but nothing drastic. Faith removed the cloth, opened her eyes, and frowned.

Skye unwound the scarf from her neck and shrugged out of the heavy winter coat. She tossed the coat down and perched on the edge of the vinyl chair next to the bed. “Hey. How do you feel?”

“Okay.” The fact that Faith didn’t even try to reassure her with a smile spoke volumes.

“Looks like you’re putting on a little weight, tubby,” she joked.

“A little.”

“So what happened? You’re supposed to be taking it easy.” Skye consciously kept her tone light.

“Nothing to worry about. The doctor’s just being extra cautious. Tomorrow she’s going to do an amniocentesis to check out the twins’ lung maturity.”

Skye nodded in approval, trying to be optimistic. “I like that she’s being super vigilant. How far along are you?”

“Twenty-eight weeks.” Faith reached for the controls to raise the head of her bed slightly. “We’d like to go thirty-two. Thirty-four would be really good.”

Another month? Judging by how quickly the disease escalated last time that sounded ridiculously optimistic. Hopefully there had been leagues of medical advances in the ten years since Faith’s last pregnancy.

Ten years was a long time. Heck, technology advanced so quickly that ten calendar years was more like eighty technology years. Whole new technologies, medical advancements, and wondrous new discoveries evolved in eighty years. That thought made Skye feel better.