Listed: Volume V (5 page)

It
was a Sunday morning, and she’d learned something last night that had changed
everything.

Still
too hot and kind of blurry, Emily suddenly realized what she needed to do. A
plan came into her mind fully formed. “Actually, I kind of feel like waffles
for breakfast.”

“Sure.
I can ask Ruth to—”

“No,
I really wanted those big Belgium waffles from The Cracked Egg. But, if you’re
too busy with work, I can have your driver take me—”

“Of
course I’m not too busy,” he said, glancing at his watch.  He looked a little
surprised—since she wasn’t in the habit of asking for special outings first
thing in the morning—but not unduly so. “Get dressed, and we’ll go as soon as
you’re ready.”

She
smiled at him, as brightly as she could. She'd somehow known he would agree.
“Thanks!”

She
got coffee, took some ibuprofen, and then went to get dressed. She took a cool
shower, which seemed to help ease some of the heat from her skin. Her fever
couldn’t be too high yet, since she was still able to function. It was so
important that she hide this from Paul. If he knew she was feverish, then her
plan would never work.

Her
whole world had narrowed down to one bleak reality. There was only one thing
left for her to do.

She
got dressed quickly and carefully applied makeup, making sure to use blush so
she wouldn’t look so sickeningly pale. She grabbed her biggest purse—more of a
tote than a purse—and put in it her toiletry case, her phone, her wallet, and a
change of clothes. Since she had room, she put the lovely music box Paul had
gotten her for her birthday in the bag too. She looked longingly at her laptop,
but she knew Paul would notice and wonder why she was carrying it with her.

She
had to leave everything. Almost everything. Or he would know.

Her
chest ached ruthlessly as she slipped off her rings. She kissed the engagement
ring. Then the wedding band. Then she laid them delicately on the counter next
to the sink in her bathroom. She couldn’t take the necklace either—since Paul
had given it to her on their wedding day—but she couldn’t seem to leave the
bracelet.

It
had been a birthday present. It wasn't a symbol of their marriage like the
rings or necklace. Surely she didn’t have to leave it too.

She
zipped the bracelet into an inner pocket of her bag, her eyes blurring over
with emotion and rising fever.

She
couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she couldn’t think of anything else to
do.

The
world was hot and aching and confusing and so, so hard.

With
a gasp, she went to the bathroom to put on her rings again, belatedly realizing
that Paul would notice she wasn’t wearing them.

She
sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep breath. She could do this. She
would
do this.

She
couldn’t do anything else.

She
took her folded, well-worn list and put it in the zipper pocket next to Paul’s
bracelet.

As
she was leaving, her eyes fell on Paul’s old edition of Riverside Shakespeare
on her dresser. It would fit in her bag, but it would look bulky and call
attention to the size of her bag.

But
she couldn’t bear to leave it behind. All of Paul’s notes in the margins made
her feel like he was reading it with her.

She
grabbed the book and hugged it to her chest, deciding she could come up with a
suitable explanation for bringing it with her.

She
found Paul in the entry hall, talking on the phone. He was talking to Jack
Martin.

He
smiled at her absently and gestured her toward the door. She was actually
relieved that he continued the phone conversation all the way down the elevator
and out to the car. That would mean less time for her to hide from his
searching eyes.

He
didn’t seem to be talking about anything new—mostly just rehearsing what they
already knew. Emily realized suddenly that Paul had been talking to Jack Martin
when she overheard him on the phone at the inn on PEI.

When
he’d said it was the most important thing, Paul had been talking about her.

It
hurt. So badly.

After
settling into the backseat of the car, Emily opened up her Shakespeare and
pretended to read as Paul finished his conversation.

She
glanced up with a smile when she heard him disconnect the call. “Everything all
right?”

“Yes.
Nothing new.” He looked tired, but he smiled at her anyway. “Getting into
Measure
For Measure
?”

“It’s
really pretty good,” she told him, forcing her voice to sound perky, even
though she felt anything but. “But I’m mostly getting excited about getting to
the end. I only have six more plays to read.”

“That’s
impressive,” he murmured. “Almost done.”

Paul’s
eyes were soft on her face. She couldn’t help but smile at him, even though it
felt achingly bittersweet. The emotion in his expression seemed so obvious to
her now. He wasn’t even trying to hide how he felt.

She
couldn’t believe she hadn’t known yesterday that he loved her.

She
couldn’t believe she was leaving him today.

She
almost strangled on the swell of painful emotion but masked it by pretending to
cough.

Paul
eyed her with his characteristic observation but didn’t appear unduly worried.

When
they got to the restaurant, Emily stumbled as she got out of the car, feeling
way too hot and dizzy. She managed to smile and even laugh a little, as if she
were amused by her clumsiness.

She
just had to make it a few minutes longer.

“Are
you sure you feel all right?” Paul asked, peering at her as they walked in. His
hand even reached out to feel her forehead.

She
swatted his hand away before he touched her. He would know in an instant if he
felt her face. “I’m fine. Don’t fuss. It’s just a little headache. Maybe this
is what a hangover feels like.”

He
chuckled. “But you still feel like waffles? Why aren’t I surprised?”

She
liked his fond, teasing tone, even as it threatened to rip her heart out.

The
restaurant was packed, but the hostess still managed to secure them an
immediate table, much to Emily’s relief. She stuffed Shakespeare into her bag
before she dropped the bag on the floor next to her chair.

Their
server brought over two big glasses of fresh-squeezed orange juice before
they’d even asked for it. Emily gulped hers down gratefully, her mouth feeling
hot and dry. They put in their orders, and then Emily figured she’d waited long
enough.

“I’m
going to run to the restroom,” she said casually. “Too much coffee.”

Paul
raised his eyebrows but didn’t question her statement. Emily managed to keep
her legs steady as she made it across the large room and then down the hallway
to the ladies room.

She’d
chosen this restaurant for a very particular reason. There was a window to the
outside in the women’s restroom.

It
wasn’t very large, but it was large enough for her to crawl through.

There
was someone else in the restroom, but she just hid in a stall until the other
woman left. Then she came out and stared at her pale face and overly bright
eyes in the mirror. She pulled off her engagement ring and wedding band and
placed them on the counter next to the sink.

It
was a risk, but Paul was likely to come look for her after not too long. At
least, when he saw the rings, he would know she hadn’t been kidnapped. He
wouldn’t be scared. He would know what happened right away.

That
would be better.

She
desperately wanted to leave a note, to try to explain
something
. She
hated for him to be hurt. But that would soften it. It would be better if he
was angry, if he hated her.

Hurting
him now would hurt him less than he would have hurt later, when she died.

Then,
not taking time to think or indulge second-thoughts, she climbed up on the
sink—feeling suddenly dizzy as she did so. She held on desperately until she
got her balance back, and then she unlocked the window.

It
pushed open easily and she crawled out, dragging her heavy bag with her.

She
was clumsy and uncoordinated—probably from the fever—and she scraped up her
hands and banged her head pretty bad on the window frame. She ignored the pain,
though, and jogged quickly down the alley as soon as she’d gained her feet.

It
was these first minutes that were most critical.

She
ducked into the closest subway station, just a block and a half away. Then she
stumbled her way to the underground level and got on the first available train.

She
just needed to get far enough away that Paul and his security wouldn’t find
her, wouldn’t catch her, when they realized she was gone.

She
experienced a blinding panic as she huddled into a seat of the mostly empty
train. This was surreal,
crazy
. What the hell was she doing? The fever
must have addled her brain to make her think that running away was the best
option.

But
she kept coming back to one aching truth. It would hurt Paul less if she left
now.

And
he
was the one she had to think about.

So
she hugged her bag to her chest and tried not to cry. Her fever, for some
reason, wasn’t rising as quickly as it had last time. She could still walk,
although her head was pounding now and she was aching all over.

But
she had a plan, and she was going to go through with it.

Ten
minutes after she’d crawled through the window, her phone started to ring. She
knew it was Paul, so she ignored it.

When
it kept ringing, she just turned the phone off.

She
couldn’t help but imagine what Paul was doing, what Paul was thinking, what
Paul was feeling right now.

And
she started to cry.

As
she struggled to stifle her tears, an elderly woman sitting across from her
asked, “Are you all right, honey?”

Emily
nodded wetly and managed to answer, “Yeah. Thanks, though.”

Recognizing
one of the approaching stops, she got up to exit the train. When she stepped
off, she was stumbling, her knees buckling on every step, but she managed to
make it to a pay phone.

She
couldn’t use her cell phone or Paul would know who she’d called.

When
a female voice picked up on the other end, Emily rasped, “Hi, Stacie. It’s me.
Emily.”

There
was a long pause. Then. “Emily? Are you all right?”

“Yeah.”
Then she shook her head. She could barely see through the blur of her vision.
“No. Not really. Can you come get me? I know it’s a lot to ask after…after
everything. But I need help.”

There
was another pause, but not as long as the first one. “Sure. Sure, I’ll help. Where
are you?”

Emily
told her and then hung up the phone. She found an empty bench and huddled in a corner
of it, praying Stacie would get here soon.

She
hadn’t seen her former step-sister in over six years.

When
her father had married Stacie’s mother, the girls had been best friends, but
that friendship had broken when the marriage fell apart.

It
had been a grief—a real grief—to lose Stacie as a friend, but loyalty to her
father was more important.

Emily
lost track of time, falling into a feverish stupor, barely able to hold herself
upright. Her hair was bothering her, but there was nothing she could do about
it. She didn't have the coordination to find an elastic band in her toiletry
case.

Stacie
found her like that on the bench, and her normally sharp, clever features
softened when she saw her. “Oh, hon, what happened?”

“I’m
sick,” Emily said, hoping she was speaking lucidly. “Can I stay with you?”

“Of
course.” Stacie reached down to help her up. “Come on. Let me get you out of
here.”

Emily
leaned on Stacie until they’d reached her car. Then she slumped into the
passenger seat, still hugging her bag to her chest.

“What
happened, Emily?” Stacie asked, as she pulled her car away from the curb. She’d
been parked quite illegally in a loading zone. “I thought you were married.”

“I
was. I am. I was.” Emily rubbed her face and tried to think. Of course, Stacie
deserved an explanation. “It’s not working. I just need somewhere to stay.”

“You
can stay with me.” Stacie glanced over at her. “I feel bad about never getting
in touch with you, after I heard…after I heard about everything. But I thought
you’d still be mad at me, and I didn’t want it to seem like I was…”

“I
understand,” Emily mumbled, brushing away a few stray tears. She didn't even
know where they had come from. “It’s all right. I was going to call you anyway.
I was going to do it before I die.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her
folded list.