Listed: Volume III (8 page)

But
she wasn’t someone he really wanted that way.

Paul
stood up with a strange, low groan and started to leave the room, but he looked
back at her one more time. “I’m really sorry. Are you…”

“I’m
okay,” she finished for him, giving him the best smile she could. He’d done so
much for her. She wasn’t going to let him feel guilty about this. “I
understand. I’m okay.”

Paul
left.

Emily
collapsed onto the couch and lay in a hot, frustrated heap. She was brutally
disappointed, and she felt utterly rejected. She breathed deeply, though, and
talked herself down from the feelings.

It
wasn’t fair to Paul for her to place such expectations on him. He’d given her
absolutely everything he could, and she just couldn’t expect him to want her
the way she wanted him. She couldn’t—she just
wouldn’t
—let this get in
the way of their relationship.

She
only had two months left, and she wasn't going to spend them feeling sorry for
herself.

When
she felt emotionally level again, she got up and went back to her bedroom. Her
body was still overly heated, still pulsing with arousal. She’d never in her
life felt this way. She’d been aroused before, of course, although usually by
something she read or by her own sexual fantasies. More and more, when she was
around Paul, she found herself responding viscerally to his physical presence.

But
she’d
never
felt like this—like she might actually erupt.

She
closed her bedroom door and lay down on her bed, rolling over onto her stomach.
Then she slipped one hand under the waistband of her pajamas. She rubbed
herself in tight circles over the fabric of her panties, feeling the tension
clench in her body almost immediately.

She
kept her eye on the door, although she was sure Paul wouldn’t walk in tonight
the way he had while she’d been doing this in Egypt. She still remembered her
shock and embarrassment, although fortunately he'd just thought she had a
fever.

Her
breathing quickened as her fingers worked and she thought about Paul, about how
he’d been kissing her, holding her, touching her.

She
came with a muffled groan, panting hotly against the pillow and still rubbing
herself urgently, trying to feel all of the pleasure she could.

When
her body finally relaxed, she stayed sprawled out on her stomach for a long
time.

Eventually,
though, she felt basically normal again, and she managed to get up, wash her
hands and face, brush her teeth, and go to the bathroom. It was time for bed,
and she was really tired. But she wasn’t really sleepy.

She
tried to read some Shakespeare in bed. Then she put Shakespeare away and tried
to watch TV. She just couldn’t focus on anything.

She
pulled out her list. It was half done now but, once the trial was over, she
would need to start working on the remainder of the items on her list. She
tried to decide what she should do next. Finally, she put the list away too and
just lay on her bed, thinking about Paul.

Nothing
really had changed. He’d still had an agonizing day. He still needed her, and
he was lying in the dark by himself.

Emily’s
heart ached for him. Finally, at about midnight, she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Maybe
she would be rejected again, but she’d passed the point of caring. She only had
two more months. She was going to do what she thought was right while she
could.

So
she walked barefoot through the hall of the apartment and stood in front of the
door to the master bedroom. Her heart racing wildly, she tapped on it lightly.

“Yes?”
Paul called out immediately. He obviously hadn’t been asleep.

She
opened the door and stepped in. The lights were off, and the room was lit only
by the flickering light of the television.

Paul
had been stretched out on his bed, staring at the television screen. When he
saw her, he sat up with a jerk. “Are you all right?”

“I’m
fine.” She walked over to stand next to his bed. Swallowed hard. “I just…I
didn’t want to be alone. Is it all right if I stay in here with you tonight?”

Paul
stared at her. He wore what he always wore to bed—just a pair of soft pajama
pants.

“Just
to sleep,” she added, in case he’d misunderstood. She wasn't trying to jump
him. She just wanted to share his bed.

She
shook with anxiety and felt like this person couldn’t really be her. She
couldn’t believe she’d just asked Paul Marino if she could sleep with him
tonight.

“Of
course,” he said, a little hoarsely. “Of course you can.”

With
a thick exhale, Emily crawled into the king-sized bed beside him, feeling like
she might collapse with relief. “Thank you,” she murmured, pulling the covers
up over her and rolling onto her side to face him. She really wanted to snuggle
up next to him, but she thought that might be pushing it, after what had
happened between them earlier.

Paul
rolled onto his side to face her too. He reached out to stroke a few strands of
hair off her face. His touch wasn’t intense and hungry now. Just gentle. “Are
you all right, Emily?”

She
nodded and smiled at him. “I’m fine. I really am. I just felt kind of…lonely.”
She didn’t say it, but she was pretty sure he’d been feeling lonely too. “Are
you all right?”

“I
am. I’m fine. It’s just been a really long day.” He smiled at her, almost
poignantly, and then rolled over onto his back. He closed his eyes, as if he
were relaxing at last.

Then
he murmured one more thing, low words she barely heard, words that caused the
tightness in her chest to release at last. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“You understand that we
have no direct means of measuring the progress of the virus, since we don’t
even know what it is,” Dr. Franklin said, looking at Emily gravely from across
his large desk. “So all I can do is measure secondary effects and compare them
to your previous tests.”

Paul
felt tense and like his stomach was twisting, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. 
He and Emily were in Dr. Franklin’s office for an update on her prognosis, but
it wasn’t likely anything said today could surprise them.

Emily
shifted slightly in her chair. She was dressed more casually today than she’d
been for most of the week, during which she’d been attending the trial
hearings. Today, she wore a pair of well-worn jeans and a brown velvet jacket,
and her hair was hanging down around her shoulders. Paul thought she looked beautiful
but a little pale, and he knew she was as tense as he was about this visit.

She
said, “Yes. I know that. Are things…progressing as you expected?”

Dr.
Franklin leaned back in his chair and gave her a little smile. “It’s actually
better than I originally expected. It’s definitely progressing, but not as
quickly as I’d anticipated.”

Paul
leaned forward. “So she has longer than thought?”

“If
it continues at the rate it has progressed for the last month, then, yes, I
would guess she may have as long as three more months.” Dr. Franklin looked
from Paul to Emily. “There are no guarantees, of course, but perhaps you have a
little more time than I’d originally predicted.”

Paul
turned his head and met Emily’s gaze. An extra month. An extra month she might
be alive. It was a lot. It gave his investigators more time to find out whether
the virus came from his father’s research facility. His heart accelerated with
something like hope.

“That’s
good,” Emily said, a little haltingly. She was looking at Paul, as if she were
waiting for his reaction. “I guess.”

“Of
course, it’s good.” He reached over and squeezed her arm. “It’s a month we
hadn’t expected to have.”

She
smiled at him, the expression growing slowly on her face and momentarily taking
his breath away. “Yeah.”

Dr.
Franklin cleared his throat, breaking into their shared gaze. “Now, would you still
prefer not to pursue any courses of treatment for the virus?”

Emily
shook her head. “I don’t want to spend my last days in the hospital, subjected
to a bunch of experiments that won’t work.”

“We
don’t want to pursue blind guesses—treatments that are basically shots in the
dark,” Paul added, cutting his eyes from Emily to Dr. Franklin. “But if you
come up with a treatment for which there is some evidence that it might be
effective, we would want to try that.” He gave Emily a questioning look.
“Wouldn’t we?”

Her
brow lowered, and she looked a little confused. “Maybe. I guess so. But there
isn’t any treatment like that, is there? No one’s had this virus before except
my aunt.”

Paul
looked back at Dr. Franklin, who shook his head. “All I have right now to offer
you are blind guesses, the most obvious of which we already tried on Mrs. Marino’s
aunt with no success. But I’m still doing research. It may be that this virus
or something similar has been diagnosed before but hasn’t been written about in
the literature.”

“You’ll
keep looking?” Paul prompted, trying to convey through his level gaze how
significant his expectations were for the doctor.

“Of
course, Mr. Marino. Your wife’s case is my top priority. I can offer you only a
very slim hope, but I suppose that is better than nothing.”

“It
is.” Paul glanced back over at Emily, whom he discovered was looking at him
strangely.

He
didn’t understand the puzzled expression on her face. Maybe she thought he was
being too presumptuous in this discussion with the doctor. Maybe she thought he
should sit back and let her handle the questions. She’d told him this morning
that he didn’t even need to come to the appointment with her.

But
he was her husband, and there were things he wanted to know that she might not
ask.

“Do
you think there will be any way we can predict when or how often she’ll come
down with the fevers?” he asked.

Dr.
Franklin shook his head slowly. “You both should try to pay attention and keep
track of symptoms, particularly from the day preceding her fevers. But, at
least in her aunt’s case, there seemed to be no regular cycle or timeline. I
have to admit to having no idea why the fevers come when they come.”

“But
they’ll get worse?” Emily asked softly.

“I’m
afraid so,” Dr. Franklin replied. “I’m afraid they will.”

Paul
hated the thought of it. The two fevers he’d been through with her so far had
been appalling enough. He couldn’t imagine how much she’d suffer with fevers
that went up higher and lasted longer.

When
he shifted his eyes over to Emily, he saw she still looked pale and was licking
her lips a little nervously.  Something twisted in his chest, in his stomach.

He
couldn’t let Emily suffer that way. There had to be something he could do.

He
would call his investigator when they got back to the apartment and get an
update on their progress.

It
wasn’t much, but it was all he had.

*
* *

Paul’s phone rang as
they were leaving the medical center. He glanced down at the caller ID, and
when he saw who was calling, he stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to pick
it up.

Emily
stopped too, her body stiffening and her eyes wide in expectation as he had the
brief phone conversation.

“Already?”
she asked when he hung up.

Paul
nodded, his heart pounding nervously again, but this time for an entirely
different reason. “The jury has a verdict.” The trial had wrapped up late
yesterday, so the jury had only been deliberating for a couple of hours this
morning.

Emily
took his arm as they walked toward the waiting car. He wasn’t even sure if she
was aware of the gesture or not, but he didn't try to pull away.

They
didn’t say much on the drive over to the courthouse. Paul couldn’t focus on
anything except managing his nerves and emotional turmoil. He hoped—he really
hoped—that the verdict would give him some sort of closure so he could start to
move on with his life.

He
wasn’t sure if Emily was going through similar psychological gymnastics, or if
she was just responsive to his mood, but she didn’t try to make idle
conversation or get him to bare his soul. Which was good. He didn’t want to
shut her out completely, but he just couldn’t talk to anyone right now.

They
didn’t talk as they walked into the courthouse and went through the normal
security routine. And they didn’t talk as they made their way into the
courtroom and took their seats just behind the prosecution table.

Paul
was so tense he was having trouble not conveying it in his stance and
expression. He tried to talk himself down—telling himself that, no matter what
happened with this verdict, he would still have options. His whole future
wouldn’t be decided in this moment.

It
was his father’s life. Not his.

But
he was still having trouble breathing evenly, and it felt like his skin had
broken out in a cold sweat.