The Miles Between Us Page 2

  I think you should prepare yourself for any eventuality.

  No. No way in hell. Not after it had taken them this long to come home to each other. They’d gotten a late start on their happy ending. It couldn’t be stolen away from them now. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Frustrated by unmoving traffic, exhaust fumes, and the whims of fate, he popped out the Henley CD and replaced it with Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. Your Precious Love, with its bluesy, sensual rhythm, was one of the songs they liked to dance to, in their bedroom, in the dark. Just the two of them, holding each other close, wrapped in a rich tapestry of emotion as they experienced the music with all their senses.

  The wrecking ball settled more heavily on his chest. He closed his eyes and let out a hard breath. When he opened them again, the car ahead of him had moved forward several inches. Resisting the urge to call the hospital again, he revved the engine and watched the tach climb, before easing up on the pedal and seeing it drop again.

  It was too soon. He’d told her it was too soon. They’d argued about it. When she’d had the last miscarriage, they’d been warned by two different doctors that they should wait at least a year before trying again. She’d lost a lot of blood, her body needed time to recover from the trauma, and she wasn’t twenty years old any longer.

  But her biological clock was ticking, and she was hyper-aware of that approaching midnight hour. When Casey Fiore MacKenzie made up her mind about something, she stood as solid as Gibraltar. He could argue until his breath was spent, but nothing, and nobody, could make his wife back down.

  So in spite of the yellow caution lights flashing inside his head, he had let her get pregnant again. He couldn’t blame this on her, because he was as guilty as she was. It took two to make a baby, and when they lay together in the dark, skin to skin, with nothing between them but the magic they created together, birth control was the last thing on his mind. He’d failed her, horribly, and if she didn’t make it through this, he would blame himself until his dying day.

  The sun was high overhead by the time he was finally out of Manhattan and on the open road headed north. He opened the moon roof and, with the wind in his hair, the stereo cranked, and one eye scanning his mirrors for blue lights, he stepped down hard on the accelerator and wove aggressively in and out of traffic. He’d learned to drive on the streets of Boston, had honed his skills on the congested freeways of Los Angeles. He was a Masshole, and proud of it. And right now, the only thing that mattered was getting home to her as quickly as possible.

  In southern Connecticut, he approached the place where Danny had died. Shortly after his death, obsessed fans had set up a makeshift memorial on the grassy embankment at the scene of the accident. Every so often, the state DOT would clean it up, remove the flowers and the love letters and the record albums. But it was pointless. Within a week, it would start piling up again. Death had rendered Danny Fiore larger than he’d ever been in life.

  And damned if he wouldn’t love the attention.

  Since the last time Rob was here, somebody had spray painted in neon green letters on the huge boulder that had stopped Danny’s car the words: FIORE LIVES!

  Driving past this place always stirred up all the old angst. The guilt, the pain, the anger, the uncertainty. The question he’d tortured himself with for six years. If you had the chance to bring your best friend back from the dead, what would you do? If it meant you had to give up the woman you loved, would you bring him back? Or would you let him rot?

  There was, of course, no right answer. Rob loosened the muscles of his hand, picked up the phone, and called Trish again. “She’s out of surgery,” Trish said. “We just talked to the doctor.”

  He wiped a sticky palm on his thigh. “What’d he say?”

  “She’s not out of the woods yet. She lost too much blood. They almost lost her.”

  His insides, already in crisis mode, knotted so hard he feared he might pass out. “If I hadn’t found her when I did,” Trish went on, “she wouldn’t have made it.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice failed him. Rob cleared his throat and managed to say, “Prognosis?”

  “The doctor said he’s guardedly optimistic.”

  Anger was easier than terror to elucidate. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I’d say it means she’s one lucky woman. They’re keeping an eagle eye on her to make sure she doesn’t start hemorrhaging again, but the doctor seemed to believe her chances are good for a full recovery. But it’ll take time. She’ll be weak and tired for a while. She won’t bounce back too quickly from this.”

  Spying a tiny opening between a Volkswagen Jetta and a fuel truck, he darted into it. “Thank you,” he said. “For finding her in time. For everything. That woman’s my life.”

  “I know that, honey. And you don’t have to thank me. I’ve loved her since she was a little girl. It would kill me to lose her.”

  “What about future pregnancies?”

  “He didn’t say. I imagine that’s something he’ll want to talk over with the two of you.”

  “I can’t go through this again. Last time, I thought it was a fluke. A coincidence. She’d had two healthy pregnancies since the first miscarriage all those years ago. But there’s obviously some kind of issue. This is the second time in less than six months. It’s not worth the risk. Somehow, I have to make her understand that this is it. That we’re not trying again.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “She’s stubborn, but so am I.”

  “Oh, I hear you. I just know how much of a jackass she can be.”

  “Not half the jackass I can be.”

  “Good. My money’s on you. I have a new phone number for you. Once she’s out of Recovery, they’re putting her in Room 219. You can call us there.”

  “Hang on.” Steering with his left hand, he opened the briefcase with his right, took out a pencil and a piece of scrap paper. He propped the paper against the steering wheel. “Go ahead.” He scribbled the number. Said, “I’m making good time. I should be there by suppertime.”

  “Take your time. Bill and I will hold down the fort.”

  * * *

  The next time he called, a raspy but intimately familiar voice said, “Hello?”

  At the sound of her voice, all the knotted areas in his body loosened. Until now, he hadn’t realized how tightly wound, how utterly terrified, he was. His wife sounded like roadkill, but she was alive, awake, and answering her own phone. Softly, he said, “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Even in her weakened state, Casey managed to infuse that one syllable with pure warmth.

  “How you doing, sweetheart?”

  “I’ve had better days.”

  “I’m on my way, babe. I couldn’t get a flight. I had to drive.”

  “I know. I also know that you’re driving way too fast.”

  He glanced at the speedometer, tapped the brake pedal, decelerated down to 94 mph. Said, “I’m not driving that fast.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, MacKenzie.”

  She knew him too well. “Look,” he said, “I need to get home to you.”

  “And I need you to be here. But I don’t need you to kill yourself on the highway because you’re too stubborn to slow down. I already lost one husband because he wasn’t smart enough to drive at a reasonable speed. If anything happens to you—”

  “Nothing’ll happen to me. I’m an excellent driver.”

  “You’re a terrible driver. You’re only excellent when you think I’m watching. Where are you?”

  “On 495. Somewhere around Haverhill.”

  “And you left New York at what time?”

  Somehow, even through the phone line, she managed to convey the image of dark eyebrows raised in disapproval. Busted.

  “I plead the Fifth.”

  “That’s what I thought. I’m so sorry, Flash. Another baby gone.”

  While she’d been facing imminent death, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about the baby they�
�d lost. Now, disappointment and grief rose in his chest. He’d wanted that baby, too.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” he said gruffly. “You’re all that matters.”

  “That is so not true. You matter very much to me. And I’m tough. I’ve been here before. I lived through it. I’ll live through it this time, too.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Just come home to me in one piece. I need to hold you. Promise me.”

  He slowed down to a sedate 79 mph, a speed which, on 495 circling around Boston, was likely to get him mowed over by some psychotic trucker. “I promise.”

  “Good. Now hang up the phone. You shouldn’t be talking and driving at the same time. And I need to sleep for a while. I’ll see you in a few hours. Drive safely. That’s an order.”

  And she was gone.

  Casey

  The sun pooled like a warm puddle of honey on the polished floor tiles of the hospital room, dust motes dancing in midair. She’d sent Trish and Bill home. As expected, Trish had objected, quite vehemently. But she’d stood her ground, and Bill, understanding his sister’s need to be alone, had ushered his wife out of the room. When they disappeared down the corridor, Trish was still squawking like a peahen left out alone in the rain.

  In a couple of hours, Rob would be here. He was somewhere north of Boston, undoubtedly traveling at the speed of light. She would hold on until he got here. It wasn’t as though she had a choice. Somehow, she would survive until he walked through that door. Then, if she needed to disintegrate, she could do it in the safety of his arms.

  But for now, she was alone. Groggy from the anesthesia and distracted by a dull, nagging ache in her lower abdomen, Casey turned onto her side and adjusted the scratchy hospital bed sheet. She closed her eyes, felt the warm sunlight on her face, saw its red haze behind her closed eyelids. She slept, and dreamed of Katie, squealing with laughter as she ran in slow motion through a field of poppies, a human dynamo with flowing blond hair and Danny’s blue eyes. She woke to the ringing of the telephone, and lay there, disoriented, for a moment before she remembered where she was and reached out to answer it.

  “Hey,” her sister said. “Are you okay?”

  Okay was a relative term, one that could be debated endlessly. Not sure how to answer, she said instead, “How did you find out I was here?”

  “Trish called me. You were in surgery, and she didn’t know how to get in touch with Rob.”

  “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  “Rob would have strangled us all if she didn’t. You almost died. And you sound like you’ve been swallowing gravel. Why is your voice so hoarse?”

  “It’s from the surgery. Breathing tube. It’ll wear off in a day or two.”

  “I think we should come home.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The last thing I need is for Harley to stop speaking to me because I destroyed his honeymoon.”

  “Harley thinks you walk on water. The only reason he married me was so he could have you for a sister-in-law.”

  “Right.”

  “You think I’m kidding, don’t you?”

  “I’m clearly alive and functioning. I have competent doctors. Nurses who watch over me obsessively. And Trish hovering over me, the quintessential mother hen.”

  A movement at the doorway caught her eye. Rob stood there, his lanky body propped against the frame, his face ashen, eyes sunken, hair poking in forty different directions, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Mirrored sunglasses dangled from the neck of a faded blue tee shirt that had seen better days. Her sister continued talking, but Casey didn’t hear a word she said. The pain and grief in those green eyes slammed into her with brute force. The last time he’d looked this gutted was the day they buried Danny.

  She glanced at the clock, silently counted the hours, and eyed him with brows raised. He shrugged, but not with his customary insouciance. This clearly wasn’t the time to critique his driving habits. He’d made it home in one piece; that was what mattered. “I have to go,” she said into the phone. “Rob just got here. I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

  And she hung up without waiting for a response.

  He stepped away from the doorway and crossed the room. Pulled a chair up to the bed and sat. She opened her arms and he dropped his sunglasses on the bedside table, leaned over the bed, and they melted into each other. His warmth, his scent, the tickle of his breath on her skin, filled the emptiness inside her. This was what she’d needed, what she’d waited for. Casey combed fingers through his messy hair, reveled in the scrape of beard against her face. A little sloppy, a little unkempt, he needed a haircut. A shave. And still, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  With his head cradled against her breast and her fingertips tracing his features, he studied her through soft green eyes. “You okay?” he said.

  “I will be. You?”

  “I am now.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” A single hot, salty tear, forming beneath her left eyelid, threatened to spill and betray her.

  “You gave me one hell of a scare,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “If I ever lost you—”

  “I know.”

  She knew because the road ran both ways. The connection between them couldn’t be explained by any conventional means. He was friend, lover, husband, soul mate. All of those things, yet none of them came close to describing their bond. It was so much more than any of those concepts. So inexplicable that she’d long since stopped trying to explain it, even to herself. They were Rob-and-Casey. Casey-and-Rob. He was hers, and she was his. They belonged together. It was that simple, and that complex.

  “What happened to Trish and Bill?” he said. “She promised to stay here.”

  “They left an hour ago. I threw them out. You know how Trish hovers. She was sending my blood pressure skyrocketing.”

  He lifted his head to study the numbers displayed on the softly beeping machine beside her bed. Settling back against her breast, he said, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but—”

  “Then don’t say it.” She closed her eyes against a sudden sharp pain beneath her breastbone.

  “I have to say it, babe. I think it’s time we quit trying for another baby.”

  Raggedly, she said, “And admit defeat?”

  “What this is doing to your body…Jesus, Casey, you could’ve died. You came so damn close that I’m still shaking. And what about the heartbreak—for both of us—every time we lose another baby?”

  “What about the heartbreak if we give up? We agreed we wouldn’t put a limit on how many kids we had. Why are you changing your mind now?”

  “I’m not changing my mind. I’m scared. Damn it, you have me, and Emma, and Paige. Aren’t we enough? Don’t we have a good life? Aren’t we happy, the four of us?”

  “Of course we have a good life.” With a fingertip, she traced the line of his eyebrow. “Of course we’re happy. But I’m not willing to stop at one. I thought you wanted more kids.”

  He sat up abruptly, leaving her empty-armed and bereft. Picking up her hand, he brought it to his mouth and placed a kiss in her palm, then folded her fingers around it. “You know better than that. You know I wouldn’t bat an eye if you said you wanted to adopt a dozen Russian orphans. But we’re talking about your life here, babe. I’m not ready to be widowed.”

  “I don’t want a dozen Russian orphans. I just want your baby. Our baby.”

  “So do I, sweetheart, but it doesn’t seem to be working out for us.”

  She turned away from him. Outside the window, the sky was a brilliant blue. “I can’t do this right now,” she said. And that damning tear dribbled from beneath her eyelid and rolled down her cheek.

  He sighed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  “You had something to say, and you said it. I’m just not ready to hear it.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it today. I’m not trying t
o be thoughtless. We can talk about it another time. There’s no rush.”

  Turning back to him, she said, “My answer won’t change.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” He lifted the corner of the bed sheet and used it to wipe the trail of dampness from her cheek. “Together. Okay?”

  She nodded. “Have you seen Emma yet?”

  “I came directly here. I needed to see you first.”

  “Will you please go pick her up? She was there. She saw what happened to me. Trish said she was wailing like her little heart was broken. She must be terrified. She needs her dad.”

  “And her mom. Do you want me to bring her in to see you?”

  “They don’t allow kids under twelve on the ward.”

  “I know. Do you want me to bring her in to see you?”

  Of course. How could she have forgotten? Rob MacKenzie, with his zillion-megawatt smile and boyish charm, could talk his way past the archangels and walk directly into heaven. “Yes,” she said. “Please bring her in. I need to hold my little girl.”

  Rob

  Emma’s wailing, at a heretofore-undiscovered decibel level, carried through the open windows and across the yard to the driveway. He heard her as soon as he got out of the car. There were two other babies in the house—Ali had recently given birth to twin girls—but his daughter’s cry was unmistakable. “Mum mum mum,” she wailed. “Mum mum mum mum mum.”

  Rob closed the car door and approached the old farmhouse where he and Casey had lived for the first two years of their marriage. She and Danny had bought the place a few months before he died, and living there had been difficult for Rob. He’d felt Danny’s presence everywhere, had seen him around every corner, opening up old wounds and allowing them to fester. It wasn’t healthy for him, or for his relationship with his wife, and he’d finally realized that if they wanted their marriage to work, they needed to move away from the memories and focus on the future instead of the past. So they’d built a new house, one without any ghosts, and sold this one to Casey’s nephew Billy and his wife, Alison.