Listed: Volume III (3 page)

There
was water in her mouth then, which was good, which she needed, but she was so
scared and upset she almost choked on it.

Then
the coolness wiped over her face again, but she was still too, too hot. She
still couldn’t move her arms.

She
struggled helplessly, finally aware enough to open her eyes. The new nurse was
leaning over her, cooling down her face with calm efficiency.

Emily
didn’t want to see her. Everything in the world was clawing at her, and the new
nurse just made it worse.

She
tried to change positions so she could cool down a little and think more clearly,
but she was trapped. She was literally trapped. She tossed her head around
until she was able to see that her arms were bound with Velcro straps, the kind
that were used to restrain patients who were out of control and a danger to
themselves or others.

Emily
panicked at the realization, frantically fighting the restraints, begging for
the nurse to let her go. She didn’t think she was a danger to anyone, and she
desperately needed her arms free. Her voice wasn’t working, though, and the
words just choked in her throat.

She
tried to calm down, somehow knowing, even in her heated confusion, that if the
nurse realized she was lucid again, that she was no longer delirious, then
Emily would be released from the straps.

But
she couldn’t calm down. It felt like she was still in a nightmare. She writhed
on the hot bed and cried out pitifully, drenched in sweat and still subjected
to the woman wiping her face to bring down her fever.

Emily
choked and whimpered and thrashed helplessly.

“What
the
fuck
is going on?” a familiar voice demanded in almost a roar from
the doorway. “Get away from her!”

The
voice was very loud, and it grated on her ears and head, but nothing in the
world had ever sounded so good.

Emily
started to sob in relief as Paul strode over in his suit and tie. He shouldered
the new nurse out of the way and started to release the straps.

“Mr.
Marino,” the nurse said, “She was out of control from her fever. She struck me
more than once. It’s standard procedure to restrain a patient if—”

“Be
quiet,” Paul cut into the explanation, his voice harder than Emily had ever
heard it. His eyes, though, were haunted as he gazed down at Emily and finished
releasing the straps.

Her
arms finally free, Emily strangled on helpless sobs, each one wracking her body
with pain. She reached out for Paul, and he pulled her into his arms.

“Mr.
Marino,” the nurse said, “You need to know that—”

“I
didn’t say you could talk yet.”

Emily
was bawling and couldn’t stop—all of the pain, fear, and trauma shoving her
into a total emotional collapse. She clung to Paul, and he pulled her even
closer. His arms around her were so tight she could barely breathe. But she
wanted it, needed it. His expensive suit was cool and soft against her skin,
and she buried her face in it.

“I’m
here,” he murmured against her hair, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

After
a minute, when Emily’s sobs had lessened, Paul loosened his embrace. “Can you
talk to me for a minute?”

She
felt for a moment like she was going to pass out—from heat and pain and the
release of too much emotion—but she breathed deeply and wiped at her face with
her hands. Then nodded up at Paul.

“Did
she do anything else to you?”

“She
tied me down.” While, in a different moment, her rational mind might have
understood how and why such a thing had happened, right now it felt like an
unbearable violation. She couldn’t remember ever feeling more scared in her
life, not even when Vincent Marino had burned down her house.

“I
know,” Paul said, his features twisting briefly. “Did she do anything else? Did
she…hurt you?”

The
nurse made a sound of outrage, but something stopped her from speaking.

Emily
shook her head and buried her face against Paul’s suit again. The fabric was
messy and damp now, but it still felt cool against her hot skin.

She
wasn't looking, but Paul must have turned back to the new nurse. “Get out.”

“Mr.
Marino,” the woman said, with impressive composure, given the situation, “I
realize this has upset you. But medical ethics have always considered it
appropriate to restrain patients who pose a danger to—”

“Get
out!”

She
must have left, but Emily didn’t see her. She could barely move now, on the
verge of blacking out completely.

She
felt Paul’s hand on her forehead and then her wet cheek. “You’re burning up,
baby. I’m going to get a bath ready for you, if that’s okay.”

“Thank
you,” she whispered.

When
Paul got up to draw the bath, Emily curled up into the fetal position, using
all the energy she had left to breathe.

She
couldn’t speak, and thankfully Paul didn’t try to make her. In silence, he
pulled off her clothes and carried her into the bathroom. It smelled like lemon
and eucalyptus so he must have used the oils Amy had brought over yesterday.

Emily
sighed hoarsely in utter relief when he lowered her into the bath. Then she
sighed again when he wet a washcloth and stroked it over her hot, messy face.

“Thank
you,” she managed to mumble, as her body started to cool down.  “Feels good.”
She closed her eyes as she let the pleasant sensations ease her pain and
tension.

Paul
kept wiping her face with the cool cloth, and it felt so good. The scent from
the oils seemed to cool her from the inside out, and the water embraced her
hot, aching body.

She
either fell asleep or passed out before the bath was over because she had no
memory of getting out.

*
* *

Emily’s fever finally
broke that evening.

She
was utterly exhausted when it was over but blissfully not hot or in pain, and
she was able to have a lucid conversation at last.

Evidently,
Ruth had overheard Emily crying out in her delirium and had come to the bedroom
to see if she could help. The nurse had told her that she had it under control.
Although Emily hadn’t been strapped down at that point, Ruth had been worried
and had called Paul to tell him.

Paul
had left the courthouse to come check on Emily. He told her the prosecution was
just presenting the evidence from the forensic accountants, and there was no reason
he’d needed to be present. He’d arrived before two-thirty that afternoon, which
meant Emily had been delirious for less than an hour.

It
had felt like an endless nightmare at the time, but it hadn't lasted long at
all. Now that it was over, she could rationally assess and conclude it hadn’t
been the end of the world. The whole incident seemed to have faded into a fuzzy
blur of heat and fear.

She
tried to explain that to Paul, who was still treating her like she was made of
crystal and sometimes looking agonizingly guilty.

“The
nurses you found for me are both wonderful,” Emily told him. They’d eaten a
late dinner in her room, and now he was sitting in a chair next to her bed.
“This didn’t happen because you did anything wrong. You've taken care of me
perfectly. Even that…even
that
probably wasn't as bad as it looked. It
probably just felt so horrible because I was sick. If I actually struck her
when I was delirious, maybe she really did need to—”

“I
saw you, Emily,” Paul interrupted thickly. “I saw how much she’d scared and
upset you. No one gets to do that to you.”

Even
though she was sure he was somehow being unreasonable, she was touched by his
words. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was too far away, so she
just gave him a hazy smile.

He
smiled back faintly.

“Are
you
all right? What’s going on with the trial? Why weren’t you able to
come home at lunch?” She remembered how strange he’d sounded on the phone and
was starting to worry about it again, now that she was physically recovering.

He
tightened his mouth and glanced away from her. “It’s nothing for you to worry
about.”

“Paul,”
she prompted, a warning in her voice.

“They’re
a little worried about the defense's strategy, and they needed some background
information from me.” When she started to question him more, he continued,
“It’s complicated, Emily, and you’re exhausted. I’ll go into it all tomorrow. I
promise.”

She
just nodded. She was tired, and she could see Paul was too. He looked battered.
“Why don’t you go lie down? I'm okay now, and you need to rest."

He
shook his head. “I’m fine.”

She
started to argue, but she could tell he wasn’t going to budge, so she thought
of another way to handle it. “Then why don’t you lie down with me?” she
suggested, patting the bed beside her. It was fresh and neat now, since Ruth
had changed the sheets again before she'd left. “I’m not hot and sick anymore,
and there’s no reason for you to sit in that uncomfortable chair all evening.
If you won’t go to bed, at least lie down with me.”

Paul
hesitated but eventually relented. He still wore his suit and tie, although
he’d taken off the jacket. He toed off his shoes and climbed into the bed with
her.

Too
tired to be self-conscious or worried about rejection, Emily scooted over and
nestled against him, relieved when he wrapped an arm around her. He smelled
like Paul, like he'd had a really long day.

She
rested her cheek on the side of his chest, draped an arm over his flat belly,
and listened to him breathe. Gradually his breathing slowed down. Gradually his
body softened, relaxed.

So
did Emily's.

She
hated being sick. She
hated
it. Paul had needed her, and she hadn’t been
there for him.

He’d
always been there for her.

***

Emily woke up feeling
really good.

She
was immediately aware that she wasn’t achy and feverish, which alone would be
cause for celebration. Even before her eyes opened, she realized she must have
slept well. She felt fresh, like she'd had a long night of unbroken slumber.

She
also felt warm and toasty. Not hot like a fever—just nicely cozy. It was partly
from the pleasant weight resting on her belly.

When
she opened her eyes, she realized the weight was Paul’s arm. He was still sound
asleep beside her, still wearing the white dress shirt, red tie, and black
trousers from yesterday’s suit. Sometime during the night, she must have rolled
over from where she’d been cuddled up at his side, and he must have rolled with
her, since he was now on his stomach with one arm slung over her middle.

She
liked how it felt.

In
Egypt, he’d always woken up before her, so she never knew how they had ended up
in bed. She liked the fact that Paul was still asleep now, that he’d been able
to relax so much with her last night, that he’d instinctively moved with her
when she rolled over in her sleep.

She
liked being close to him, in any way she could get.

Emily
looked at him as he slept, the rumpled dark hair, softened features, and thick
eyelashes incredibly appealing. She felt a slow rising of an emotion that was
tender, protective, almost maternal. She wanted to stroke him, cradle him,
somehow ease the wounds of his so sensitive soul. Most people in the world had
no idea who Paul Marino really was. But she did. She did now.

She
shifted her arm slightly so she could see her left hand, and the sight of his
rings there still gave her a silly little thrill.

Paul
was her husband. She’d chosen him mostly because he was convenient, but she'd
made the right choice. She never could have found a better one.

He
would never let her be his wife for real.

She
was his special duty, his responsibility, and she knew he genuinely cared about
her, but he just didn’t want her as a woman. She could understand that. She’d
never been his type. They only had a couple more months of marriage anyway. Just
because she thought about having sex with him almost every night didn’t mean he’d
want her the same way.

That
was okay. She could still be a wife to him in any way he’d let her, for as long
as she was alive to do it.

He
needed her, whether he realized it or not.

That
thought made her remember that the trial continued today. She turned her head
to look at the bedside clock and saw it was almost six-thirty in the morning.

She
couldn’t believe Paul had slept so long. The poor thing hadn’t even gotten out
of his clothes. He must have been so tired last night.

An
itch on her thigh started to bother her, so she shifted very slightly to try to
scratch it, not wanting to wake Paul up yet. Her motion must have woken him
anyway. His eyelids fluttered slightly before they lifted.

She
was looking in his direction, and her face was only several inches away, so the
first thing he saw was her.