Listed: Volume V (8 page)

“The
bath is ready,” Stacie said, from the doorway of the bathroom. “Do you need
help—”

Paul
shook his head and gently pulled off Emily’s top. Her bare breasts were soft
and round, and they bounced slightly with the motion. Under normal
circumstances, Paul would have found her body highly distracting, but he was
always too wrapped up in care and anxiety to think about sex when she was sick.

Emily’s
discomfort seemed to grow quickly more intense. She started to arch up more
dramatically and babble out more loudly. Paul had to struggle to get off the
rest of her clothes.

“No!”
Emily screamed, her voice suddenly so loud that Paul jerked in surprise. “No!
Not there! Paul, no!” Her blue eyes were wild and focused intently on a blank
spot in the air. “The fire! The fire!”

“It’s
all right, baby,” Paul murmured hoarsely, trying to gather her writhing body in
his arms. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She
struggled in his grip, frantic and uncontrollable. He didn’t know what had
happened. She’d seemed delirious, but much calmer just a minute ago. One of her
fists landed on his cheek, hitting him with so much force his eyes watered.
“No! Paul, don’t! The fire! You’ll burn! No! Get out! Get out!”

She
was screaming at the top of her voice and fighting like a wildcat. He couldn’t
hold her still. She fisted one hand in his shirt and pulled it so hard it
ripped the seam.

Paul’s
eyes glazed over with rising panic, just as he always felt when she reached
this height of fever-hysteria. But it seemed worse this time. It ripped his
heart out. She used to fight him in her delirium. Now she seemed to be fighting
to save him.

“I’m
right here,” he rasped, trying to gather her again in his arms and hold her
still enough to carry her to the tub.  She was so incredibly hot he didn’t
think it was possible to survive it. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

She
was unnaturally strong, contorting herself out of his grip. When he’d released
her briefly to reposition himself, her spine arched up dramatically. Her eyes
were wide open in terror, a shocking blue against her pale skin, and her mouth
was wide open in a silent scream of anguish.

Paul
couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t
stand
it. She was suffering so much, and there
was nothing he could do to fix it. The pain was so sharp he just froze, staring
down at her.

“Oh
my God,” Stacie mumbled, coming over to the bed. There were a couple of tears
on her face. “It’s just awful. The poor thing.”

Her
words managed to distract Paul from his paralysis, and he bent down to gather
Emily up again. This time, he was able to grip her tightly enough that he could
drag her squirming form up from the bed and carry her to the bathroom.

She
started screaming again, begging him to stay away, not to come close, to get
out of the fire. At one point, when she kicked out against his grip, he almost
dropped her.

He
managed to reach the bathtub, however, and knelt down on the floor as he tried
to lower her into the tepid water. She was still struggling, so he had to lean
over until he was halfway in the tub himself in order to hold her still.

“Can
you make sure she doesn’t bang her head or get her face underwater?” he asked Stacie,
who was behind him. He was appalled to hear how weak and strained his voice
sounded.

Stacie
came over immediately and held Emily’s tossing head while Paul restrained her
flailing arms and legs.

She
was still screaming desperately—now it was mostly just, “Paul, no! Paul, no!
Paul,
no
!” Over and over again.

“Why
does she think you’re going to burn?” Stacie asked at one point, clearly deeply
upset by the violent delirium.

Paul
just shrugged. He knew. He was almost certain he knew, but it wasn’t something
he could tell a stranger. It wasn’t something he could tell
anyone
.

Emily
thought that his loving her would break him.

She
might be right.

*
* *

The bath lowered
Emily’s fever. After several long minutes, she grew quiet. Although she still
shifted restlessly in the water, she stopped her frantic screaming and
flailing.

Paul
let her soak for a long time, relieved when her body finally softened and her
eyes closed. She seemed almost unconscious now, but she was still breathing.
And she was finally not actively suffering.

When
the crisis had been averted, Stacie got up and said, “If you’re all right with
her for now, I’m going to send Chris home.”

Paul
nodded distractedly. He’d actually completely forgotten about Chris.

Paul
stayed kneeling on the floor of the bathroom, leaning on the edge of the tub
and wiping Emily’s warm face with a cool washcloth. She seemed almost peaceful
now, and he started to hope that maybe this round of fever had broken
completely.

If
it had, its span had been incredibly short. And maybe—maybe—that was a very
good sign.

He
tried not to hope too much, but he desperately needed some sort of encouragement.
Emily’s body was small and pale in the water. Her face looked delicate, almost
childish, with her hair pulled into the two ponytails.

She
wasn’t a child, though. She was an incredibly generous, strong, resilient,
sunny, smart, loving, extraordinary woman. And he wasn’t sure what he would do
without her.

“Paul,”
she breathed, her eyes still closed, her thick eyelashes fanned out against her
white skin. “Please don’t.”

“It’s
too late,” he murmured. He didn’t know if she could hear him, if she could
understand him. But he said it anyway, as he started to drain the water and
lifted her gently from the tub. “It’s too late, baby. I already do.”

He
dried her off as much as he could and carried her back to the bed. He searched
the dresser drawers until he found an oversized t-shirt and pulled it over her
head. Then he covered her up with the sheet and comforter.

Her
skin felt a lot cooler. Her fever seemed to have broken completely.
Maybe—maybe—it had.

Paul’s
long-sleeved shirt was soaked and ripped so he just pulled it off, keeping on
the white t-shirt he’d been wearing beneath it. It was damp too, but not
unwearably so. Then he took off his shoes and stretched out on the bed beside
Emily.

It
was just early afternoon, but he was utterly exhausted. Emily was here, though,
and she seemed, for the moment, to be all right.

So
he allowed himself to indulge in the luxury of relaxing.

*
* *

Emily woke up four
hours later.

She’d
slept peacefully for the most part, and her fever hadn’t come back. Her
temperature was normal, which meant this round of fever had lasted for less
than twelve hours, rather than the forty-eight plus hours that her most recent
fevers had lasted.

“Paul,”
Emily gasped, as she started out of her sleep.

Stacie
had gone to buy some groceries so Paul was alone with Emily in the apartment.

“I’m
here,” Paul murmured, his voice still hoarse from the strain of the day. He was
beside her on the bed, so all he had to do was reach out for her.

She
came into his arms willingly, her eyes still blurry from sleep. “Paul,” she
murmured, this time in obvious contentment as she nestled against him.

His
body was much warmer than hers was now, which was an immense relief. She was
small and soft and clingy against him, and Paul held her as tightly as he could
without hurting her.

She
buried her face in his t-shirt and seemed to doze off again for a few minutes.

Then
she woke up for real.

She
stiffened in his arms and sucked in a surprised breath. “No,” she gasped.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I
am
supposed to be here,” he objected mildly, determined not to get
impatient with her, no matter how stubborn and unreasonable she was going to
be.

“I
told them not to call you.”

“I
know. That was very stupid of you.” He didn’t let her pull out of his arms like
she was trying. “But you were feverish so I’ll forgive you this time. They
didn’t call me. I found you on my own.”

“But—”
Emily’s voice cracked with emotion. Her body was tightening. Then it was shaking.
“But I didn’t want…I was trying…”

His
heart twisted when she started to cry. She was struggling to get away from him,
but he held her close. “I know what you were trying to do, but it wouldn’t do
any good. I have to be with you.”

She
choked on her sobs, and her body shook desperately against his. “I’m sorry. I
didn’t want to hurt you. I never meant…I thought it would be better for you if…”

“I
know what you thought.” Despite the raw ache in his chest, he couldn’t help but
feel a warm wave of awed gratitude that someone—that Emily—cared about him so
much she’d make such an outrageous, ridiculous gesture. For
him
. “But
it’s just too late to pull back now.”

“No,”
she sobbed, clutching at the fabric in the back of his shirt. “I never meant to
hurt you. I can’t stand that I did this to you. I can’t stand that you’ll be
hurt when I…when I…”

“Stop
it,” he demanded, unable to listen to any more. He pulled back slightly and
lifted her chin so he could see her wet face, twisting with deep emotion.
“Listen to me! You didn’t do this to me. I went into this marriage fully
understanding the situation. And why have you decided there’s no hope for a
cure?”

“But
the treatment didn’t work. And I got another fever.” She looked dazed,
confused, but unexpectedly hopeful—as if things weren’t as desperate as she’d
assumed.

“I
know it didn’t work like we hoped, but how do you know they’re not close to a
cure? This fever didn’t last nearly as long as they normally do. That seems to
me to be a very good sign. Maybe the treatment had some effect. Maybe they’re
getting close. You’re just going to give up?”

She
blinked at him, tears poised on her eyelashes. “I never believed in miracles.”

“Me
either. If it was a miracle, you’d already be cured after one try. It’s not a
miracle. They’ve got a lot of information, and maybe they can do something with
it. I’m not going to give up on a good possibility after just one try.”

“Oh.”

“Emily?”
he prompted after a minute, not sure what her expression meant and a little
afraid of the lengths he might go if she still decided she didn’t want to fight
for her life or be married to him anymore.

She
released a long sigh that he understood as acquiescence. Her expression relaxed,
and her eyes were suddenly very warm and fond as she gazed at him across the
few inches of distance. But her mouth twisted briefly before she said, “I never
wanted you to…to…”

“Love
you?” he finished for her, when her words trailed off in self-consciousness. “I
do.”

She
squeezed her eyes shut, and her body shook a few times in response.

Paul
reached into the pocket of his trousers. “Do you think you can put your rings
back on?” He showed her the engagement ring and wedding band in his left hand,
where his own wedding band was still in place on his ring finger. “Please?”

She
stared at the rings for a long moment. Then she nodded. “I’m sorry. I should
never have taken them off.”

He
reached under the covers until he found her left hand. He slipped on the
wedding band and then the engagement ring, and he released a long breath when
they were in place again there. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I’m
sorry,” Emily choked, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly.
“I’m so sorry, Paul. I thought it would be better for you. I couldn’t seem to
think…I don’t know what happened.”

“You
had a fever,” he said, his chest unclenching as he realized this was actually
true. She hadn’t wanted to leave him. She hadn’t done so consciously or
willfully. She’d been sick and desperate—and she’d been so afraid of hurting
him. “You were scared. But please don’t do it again.”

“I
won’t,” she promised. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you.”

When
he felt her relaxing against him, he began to relax too. They held each other
for a long time in silence, on the cusp between grief and hope.

“Paul?”
Emily breathed, finally breaking the silence.

“What,
baby?”

“Maybe
you already know. But I love you too.”

***

Paul was carrying
Emily’s bag so, as they arrived at the apartment, he walked with her to her
bedroom.

For
some reason, it irrationally bothered him that she had her own bedroom in their
home. It had been necessary at the beginning, when they weren’t sleeping
together. Even now it made sense because she was so often ill, and it was
convenient for her to have her own bed.

But
it still bothered him. As ridiculous as it was to get hung up on such a thing
at this moment, the idea nagged at him intensely. As Emily kicked off her shoes
and sat down with a sigh on the edge of the bed, he was sorely tempted to
suggest they move all of her stuff into the master bedroom.