The Lives Between Us (27 page)

“They did.” He nodded. “And Ben tried to get Mark to quit his job. When that didn’t work, he tried to forbid Noelle and me from associating with him. Finally he had to settle for ignoring the accusations.

“I run a clean campaign. I don’t believe in mudslinging. We educate people on the difference between embryo, cord blood, and adult stem cells, and trust that they’re smarter than our opponents give them credit for.”

“Well, it must have worked ’cause here you are.” She smiled. “Though he must be good for something, wasn’t it Mark who introduced you to Noelle?”

Edward nodded. “Noelle was on his recreation soccer team.”

Skye scanned her notes. Locating her place, she marked it with her pen. “So tell me. What’d you like most about Noelle?”

“You know what?” Edward raised an eyebrow, looked sideways at her, and gave her a slow sexy grin that had her eyes widening in appreciation. He sure could turn on the sex appeal. “I’ve managed to dodge personal questions like that all these years.”

“Which is why I’m asking. Come on, Senator. I’m not asking to read your love letters. Just tell me what first attracted you to her or—” she gave him a mischievous smile, “—we could debate the potential therapeutic uses of embryonic stem cells.”

Edward held up a hand to ward her off. “Oh, no. Not that.” He took a sip of beer and looked across the room. “Hmm... What first attracted me to Noelle?” He raised one eyebrow. “Besides her great breasts? Just teasing, strike that.” He leaned forward and brought her phone close. “Strike that last comment. For the record, Skylar Kendall is a friend, so I felt at liberty to tease her.”

Edward considered her a friend? Not today. Not while they’re both at work. But she laughed politely at his clowning anyway. “What’s wrong, worried the world will find out you’re a softie?”

“I’m a hard ass, haven’t you heard?” Edward took another sip and exhaled loudly. “Okay. What first attracted me to Noelle?”

He stared at his bent knee, so deep in thought Skye wished she could read his mind.

“Besides her looks?” Edward shrugged. “‘Cause let’s be honest, I was a shallow young stud like every other twenty-something guy, and my wife
is
a knockout. But besides that, I loved that she’s smart…” He paused thinking.

“Patient—’cause she’d need to be to put up with me. And I liked that she loved kids and always protected the little ones. And her best trait,” he paused dramatically and smiled brightly, “is that she had the good taste to fall madly in love with me.”

Edward shrugged and glanced away while picking up his beer and fiddling with the label. “I don’t know what to say. That’s why I don’t answer questions like those,” he muttered.

“You? Not know what to say?” Mark snorted.

So this is what Mark saw in Edward. His self-deprecation and sense of humor were incredibly compelling, Skye had to admit. Who didn’t like a man able to laugh at himself, who didn’t take himself too seriously? And his sincerity and embarrassment were sweet. Her readers would eat it up—especially the women. But she wanted more—something deeper.

“What were those early years like?”

“The same as other young couples. We worked hard to pay the bills and establish ourselves in our careers.”

“Not most young couples have trust funds.” She wasn’t about to let Edward pretend that his privileged life was anything near average. He wasn’t going to trick her into believing he’d been one of the middle class, so he was relatable.

“True, my grandparents set up a trust fund for me, but I couldn’t access it until I was thirty-five, so I took out a student loan—like everybody else. My first car was a used Ford Escort with seventy thousand miles on it and I worked several nights a week as a waiter. My mother believed it’d be a disservice to just give me what I wanted—and I agree.”

“Still, knowing you have the future support of a trust fund to fall back on gives a person a great deal of security the majority of young couples don’t have.”

“I won’t argue that.”

Because you can’t
.

“Okay. Then five years later Jeff came along?”

“Yup.”

She cocked her head to the side, curious. “Jeff’s fourteen. Did you want to have more children?”

“We both wanted a large family but were never blessed.”

Nice pat, rote answer, but Skye knew there was more. Noelle had told her about their lost baby. “Because?”

“Because we were never blessed.” Teasing, easy Edward transformed into the professional senator before her eyes.

Testing, Skye ignored his hint to let it go. “Were you too blessed in your career to give more children the attention you’d want to give them?”

Edward’s eyes narrowed in quiet anger. “No, Skye.” He picked up her phone, turned it off, and tossed it on the wooden coffee table where it clattered and skid across to her glass.

“Ed, she doesn’t know,” Mark cut in quietly.

Edward spoke in clipped precise words. “Noelle suffered several miscarriages—five to be exact. Some things deserve to remain private. Being a politician does
not
mean that the public has a right to full access to every significant event in my life.”

Five
? That she did not know. Noelle had only told her about the one. Five miscarriages spoke of optimism, determination, hope, heartbreak, desperation, and perseverance. Unyielding belief in love and family. Struggle, heartbreak and strength gave Edward a commonality that made him sympathetic and relatable.

Skye inclined her head. “Fair enough. Five miscarriages are a lot. I’m sorry for your losses.” She reclaimed her phone and pushed the red record button. “Did you see that Carl Levinson’s wife filed for a divorce?”

Edward peeled the label on his beer. “I did.”

“What do you think?”

“That it’s none of my business.”

“The unfaithful politician is so cliché, but surely you don’t condone his behavior.”

“I’m not certain that marital infidelity is more common among politicians than any other profession. It’s probably just sensationalized more, but of course I don’t
condone
it.”

“Maybe, but a politician has more power, money, and opportunity than the average man. So not only are they in situations that facilitate marital indiscretions, but their positions also attract less moral people willing to encourage and profit from this type of behavior.”

“No more so than celebrities and wealthy, powerful businessmen.”

“True. Have you ever had an affair?”

Edward drained his beer and placed it carefully on the wood coffee table. He slowly moved his head from side to side. “No. I have never had an affair.”

“Would you tell me the truth if you had?”

“Nope.” A smile tugged at the sides of his mouth. He picked up her phone, backed the tape up and turned it back on after her question, effectively erasing proof that he admitted that he would not tell her the truth. “If I agree to answer a question, I always strive to answer it honestly.”

Suddenly Skye was glad that he wouldn’t have confessed the truth; she didn’t really want to know. She studied Edward, curious.

“So it’s not a facade.” Skye had first-hand knowledge that Edward’s happy marriage wasn’t a pretense, but her readers hadn’t spent that week with them—they didn’t know. “You and Noelle seem to have a solid, genuinely healthy marriage. What’s your secret?”

Edward sighed and looked at her from beneath bushy eyebrows as if wondering if he could trust her. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I can’t speak for Noelle. As for me, it’s pretty simple. She’s my best friend, and I love her.”

Skye had expected the ‘I love her’ answer, but there had to be more. She didn’t believe that love was always the answer. Though he might have something with the best friend thing. Still, there had to be more. Now she wanted to know almost more for herself than for the article. “And?”

“And what?” Edward shrugged and frowned. “Why does there have to be more? Why can’t it be that simple?” He paused several seconds then sighed. “Okay, here it is: I’m too lazy to get involved with another woman. It’d take tremendous energy and stamina to hide an affair and to satisfy two women.” He shrugged, “I’m just not that young anymore.”

Skye sat still, watching and waiting for the truth. She wasn’t going to let him joke his way out of this answer.

Edward looked away and shifted in his seat. Head tilted, he turned back to her and pushed out a breath. “Look, I admire my wife too much to hurt her that way. We’re both extremely loyal people who respect the vows we made.”

Skye nodded as she pawed through her attaché case. She looked at Mark. “I’ve got a nasty headache. I have some aspirin in my purse, but I left it in the car. Would you mind getting it for me?”

“Sure.”

As soon as Mark left the room, Skye looked at Edward and tilted her head. “You know I’ve been trying to figure you out. You don’t always vote the party line—you’re a thorough person who takes his job seriously—you do your homework before you vote and make up your own mind. I doubt you make too many decisions based on political pressure, either. Yet your pro-life stance is so absolute.” She frowned. “It doesn’t make sense.

“Your respect for life goes deeper than teachings of the Catholic church. You’re not one to blindly follow any edict from the Pope. And now that I know about Noelle’s miscarriages, it makes a
little
more sense.”

“Don’t make more out of it than it is. It’s our moral right to protect innocents who can’t protect themselves. You have to choose a point at which to define a life and it has to be an absolute. It’s that simple. For me, it’s at the time of conception.”

“Yet, somehow, I think it’s more than that.” She paused. “In fact, I’m certain that it’s more than that.”

Edward looked at her, curious.

“And then there’s gun control. You have the support of the NRA, yet you don’t always vote the party line. You’re not pro guns just because you’re fanatical about protecting second amendment rights, are you?

“Ten thousand children are injured or killed by guns each year. Firearms are one of the top three causes of death among children—killing twice as many as cancer does. I find it hard to believe that you’re willing to put a persons’ right to bear arms above the urgent need to protect our children. Yet you voted against a bill that would’ve expanded background checks—”

“What’re you getting at, Skye?”

“Mark told me you’re a good man and that I should get to know you better, so I did.”

Edward raised his eyebrows.

“I know you were born in Indianapolis, and your mother changed your name when she divorced your father and moved you to Grosse Pointe. I know about your father.”

“Changing names after a divorce isn’t unusual, and it’s hardly a secret that my father was an alcoholic.”

“And abusive.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I know about that night. When you were twelve and your life imploded.”

Edward quieted. “Whatever you think you know is totally irrelevant to my career and this interview.”

“I beg to differ. What happened that night molded the man you are today. Having a gun in the house that night probably saved your mother’s life.”

Edward opened his mouth.

Mark entered. “I couldn’t find your purse, but Ben gave me—” He lifted a bottle of Tylenol, then slowed his pace as he sensed the tension between them. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. We’re just wrapping up,” Edward said, traces of irritation gone.

Mark studied Skye carefully as he crossed the room and handed her the bottle. She smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

She concentrated on shaking out two pills and washing them down with her soda.

Ben poked his head in the study door. “Excuse me, Senator. You have a phone call you need to take.” His pale face made his wide-eyed glance look almost panicked, despite his calm delivery.

Edward looked over his shoulder. “In a minute. We’re just finishing up here.”

“It can’t wait.”

Edward got to his feet and left the room. “Excuse me.”

Mark turned to Skye as soon as the door closed behind Edward. “It’s going pretty well, don’t you think? You’ve got lots to put in your article.”

“I guess so.” Material that her female audience would go crazy over, but nothing to give her a legitimate reason to reveal his secret. Where should she go from here? What would Jenny do?

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before a frowning Edward rushed back in the room. Pivoting, he went to the open door, calling out, “Ben, on second thought, call Matheson and have him meet me at Young in a half an hour. I’ll need him to bring the jet home.”

With quick flicks of his wrist, Edward rolled his sleeves down and grabbed his jacket. He went to his desk and snatched up his keys.

“What’s up?” Mark stood.

Edward’s head swung toward them, as if surprised they were there.

“What happened?” Mark rose and took a few steps forward.

Edward’s hand covered his mouth, then dropped as if wiping away a bad taste. “Noelle was in an accident.”

“What kind of an accident? Is she okay? What about Jeff?”

“Skiing.” Raising stricken eyes, Edward whispered. “Jesus, Mark, she can’t move.”

Jeff stood at Detroit’s Coleman Young International Airport beside his father, watching the ambulance pull away with his mom. He looked around the vacant airstrip, relieved that, for once, there were no reporters stalking them. He peered at his dad, whose watchful gaze never left his mom, even after she entered the ambulance.

Dad had walked beside her gurney to the ambulance, smiling this fake smile, acting as if everything would be all right, but Jeff saw his hand shake as he stroked Mom’s cheek. It wasn’t going to be okay. Dad was pretending. He was scared, too.

As the ambulance turned the corner, Dad blew out a deep breath and turned to him. “Ready to go?”

Despite his resolve, Jeff hung his head, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut. He couldn’t make his feet move. Dad pulled him to his side, but he resisted the temptation to bury his face in the wool coat like he did when he was a little kid. He didn’t deserve that luxury.