Listed: Volume VI (3 page)

“Who
has this?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Everyone.
I’m sorry, sir.” It was Marks’s second apology in less than two minutes—a
record for the competent man.

Paul
cleared his throat. Marks and the team had done an excellent job over the last
months in keeping the press at bay. Paul knew better than to think it was
possible to close them out completely—not when the trial and his marriage had
made him such a tempting target.

Besides,
he had more important things to be concerned about right now than having his
privacy invaded.

“Don’t
worry about it,” he said. “It happens.”

Marks
blinked. “Thank you, sir. We’re working on—”

“Don’t
worry about it,” Paul interrupted.

Marks's
face grew still for a moment. Then he said again, “Thank you, sir. May I ask
about how Mrs. Marino is doing?”

Paul’s
jaw tightened reflexively. “Not well.”

“Please
tell her that we’re all thinking about her.”

Paul
swallowed again as the other man left his study. He had never realized that people
cared about him—at all—until Emily came along.

He
let out a long breath and gave up on his email. He needed to get Emily up
anyway if they were going to be at Dr. Franklin’s office by ten. So he forced
himself to his feet and went to wake up his sick, exhausted wife.

*
* *

Paul leaned his head
back against the cushy leather sofa in Dr. Franklin’s office and closed his
eyes for a moment. He couldn’t remember ever being so tired in his life. In a
way, it was a relief. He was so tired even the pain was somehow muffled.

Emily
was sprawled out on the sofa with her head in his lap. He stroked her hair
gently, but he thought from her breathing that she’d already fallen back to sleep.

He’d
had a hard time getting her up. She’d been so listless and lethargic that he
and Lola had practically had to dress her. He’d called and asked Dr. Franklin
if the doctor could come to the apartment instead. Dr. Franklin had been
willing, but he’d suggested they come to the hospital as originally planned
since he wanted to do some tests to see how the virus was progressing, and
they’d be able to get results more quickly that way.

So
Paul had carried Emily to the car, and she’d fallen asleep on the ride over.
She’d been barely conscious as Dr. Franklin examined her, took blood, and asked
them questions, and she’d fallen asleep as soon as he’d left the office. He had
returned again after a while and had taken more blood and performed a few new
tests.

Under
normal circumstances, Paul would have demanded to know what was going on, but
Dr. Franklin and the nurse had both looked sober and concerned, and Paul just
couldn’t bring himself to hurry along any more bad news.

So
he and Emily were waiting alone in the office, while the medical team examined
the test results and determined the best course of action.

If
Dr. Franklin returned in a few minutes and told Paul there was nothing else
they could do—that they would just have to wait for the end—Paul would have no
choice but to punch him in the face.

He
was getting more and more concerned about Emily. She didn’t have a fever. Her
head was warm in his lap, but her skin wasn’t unusually hot. He didn’t
understand why she couldn’t stay awake.

As
he was stroking her loose hair, his fingers accidentally got caught in a
tangle, and he pulled on it before he realized what he was doing.

Emily
jerked and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Sorry,”
he murmured, gently untangling his fingers.

“S’okay,”
Emily mumbled, evidently trying to pry her eyes open. “What’s going on?”

“We’re
still waiting for Dr. Franklin to come back and tell us what treatment we’re
going to try next.”

“Oh.”
Emily groaned as she made herself sit up. She sat very still for a moment and
breathed, as if she felt dizzy, but then she twined her arms around his neck.
“I’m not sure I’m up to any sort of major treatment. I don’t seem to have any
strength left at all.”

“You
won’t have to do the work on whatever treatment he tries. You’ll do fine.” Paul
wrapped his arms around her and pulled her gently into his lap so he could hold
her. He tried to sound encouraging, but his stomach dropped like a rock. It
sounded so much like she was giving up.

He
tightened his arms instinctively and tightened them even harder when he felt
her begin to shake.

“I
can’t stand to leave you alone, Paul.” Her face was pressed against his
shoulder. "But I'm so, so tired."

“You
haven’t left me,” he said thickly. “You haven’t let me yet.”

“I
know, but it won’t be long. I’m trying to hold on for you, and I’ll try new
treatments for you, but I’m just so tired.”

She
sounded more than tired. She sounded battered. He wanted to beg her to stay
with him, the way he had in Hawaii. There were limits, after all, to how far he
could go, how much he could give.

Even
if it might mean prolonging her pain, he just didn’t want her to die.

Since
he knew that wasn’t what he was supposed to say, he forced out, “I want you to
do what’s best for you. Don’t do anything for me. Think about you. Not me.”

She
lifted her head and pressed a little kiss on the side of his mouth. “Silly. You
know better than that. That’s not how love works. I’ll always think about you.”

He
didn’t answer immediately. Just thought about what she said. Then his arms
tightened around her again as he suddenly realized there were no limits after
all to how much he could love, how much he could give, how much he would suffer
to keep her from suffering.

“Don’t
do the treatments for me,” he said hoarsely, this time meaning it. “I don’t
want you to keep going just for me.”

Her
face twisted and she would have responded, but Paul would never know what she
was going to say. Dr. Franklin came back into the office.

The
man looked a little uncomfortable at having interrupted what appeared to be an
intimate moment, but Paul released his desperate grip on Emily and rearranged
her beside him on the couch.

The
doctor took the chair facing them.

When
he didn’t speak immediately, Paul got impatient. “Tell us.”

“The
results are not at all what we expected. That’s why we came to do the other
tests. But the results were the same both times.”

Paul
frowned. “What’s so surprising about them?”

“There’s
been dramatic improvement.”

“What?’
Paul demanded, every muscle in his body freezing in a clench.

Dr.
Franklin held out his hands and smiled vaguely. “This latest treatment we tried
must be working. The improvement is…dramatic.”

Paul
stared, breathless and disoriented. His mind couldn’t even process the
significance of what was said.

“I’m
going to call in for consultation from a couple of other doctors. I don’t want
to draw conclusions too soon. We’ll continue this latest treatment, of course,
and wait to see what happens, but these are better results than anyone
anticipated.”

Paul
just kept staring. Couldn’t seem to breathe.

“I
don’t understand,” Emily mumbled, leaning against his side. When he looked
down, her face was groggy and confused. She still barely looked awake.

Clearing
his throat, Paul said, “He says the virus is getting better. That maybe you’re on
your way to being cured.” Even saying the words didn’t make them feel real. It
was too much—too much to even begin to wrap his mind around.

And
he just couldn’t let himself believe it was true.

Emily
blinked up at him, looking as dazed and doubtful as he was. “But I still feel
like hell.”

Dr.
Franklin said, “It could simply be the aftermath of having such a high fever
for so long. Give it a few days, and we’ll see what happens. You may get
another fever, but I wouldn’t expect it to be as bad—given what seems to be
happening with the virus. If the improvement continues, then you should be
feeling a lot better soon. There are no guarantees, of course, since this virus
is such a mystery to us, but I would definitely say that there’s now more than
a thin sliver of hope. We can think positively.”

They
talked for a few more minutes and arranged for another appointment. Paul’s mind
was fuzzy and disoriented, and Emily appeared completely out of it.

They
were silent as they left the building and got into the back of the chauffeured car.
They stared at each other for a few long minutes.

Finally,
Emily said, “I’m too afraid to hope.”

“Me
too,” Paul said, trying futilely to make his mind work with its normal quick,
sharp efficiency. “Let’s just wait and see what happens in the next few days.”

 “I’m
not dreaming or delirious, am I?

“Not
unless I am too.”

“Oh.
Good.”

*
* *

When they returned to
the apartment, Paul intended to work for the rest of the day until he’d caught
up, but, as he helped Emily into bed, she pulled him into bed with her.

He
intended to just hold her for a few minutes until she fell asleep, but he ended
up falling asleep too.

As
he woke up, he immediately realized something was different.

He
was incredibly uncomfortable, one of his arms asleep, his neck stiff from its awkward
position, and his eyes throbbing from too much emotion and fatigue. And he was
hard, his erection pressed against Emily’s soft, sleeping body—another kind of
discomfort and one that wasn’t likely to be satisfied any time soon.

Something
had changed, though. It took a few minutes for his fuzzy mind to process what
the change was.

For
the first time in weeks, he’d woken up without the weight of impending doom in
his gut.

For
the first time in so long, he woke up feeling genuine hope.

***

Paul’s gut clenched
when he glanced at the caller ID of his ringing phone. He snatched it up.
“Marino,” he said curtly, his heart starting to race in his chest.

“Good
afternoon, Mr. Marino,” Dr. Franklin said on the other end of the call. “How is
Mrs. Marino feeling today?”

“She’s
fine. Still tired.  Is everything all right with her tests?”

“It’s
still good. There’s almost no sign of the virus now at all.”

Paul
let out the breath he’d been holding. Dr. Franklin had called him every
afternoon for three weeks to report on the blood sent over by the nurse in the
mornings, but Paul got anxious every time, still unable to fully believe that
Emily’s virus was gone for good. “Excellent,” he said, since Dr. Franklin was
waiting for him to say something.

“We’re
going to keep close watch on her,” Dr. Franklin said, sounding relaxed and
pleased. “But at this point I think we can be optimistic. Although the virus is
so new we’ll never have any guarantees, all signs are pointing toward the idea
that it is gone for good. I think you and Mrs. Marino can start acting as
though she's not going to die from it.”

Paul
swallowed. “She’s still not feeling up to par.”

“That’s
to be expected. The fevers took a lot out of her physically, particularly the
final ones that were so high for so long. But there’s no permanent damage, and
she’s slowly regaining her strength. In another couple of weeks, she’ll be
feeling like herself again.”

They
talked for a couple more minutes before Paul hung up. Then he sat and stared at
his computer screen, trying to make himself feel happy.

He
was
happy. Of course he was. He’d wanted nothing more in the world than
for Emily to live, but his relief was so deep and the miracle so unexpected
that he was having more trouble processing it than he’d expected.

He
still expected it to be snatched away at any minute.

And
he still wasn’t sure what the future held for him and Emily.

He
cleared his throat and made himself stand up. He’d been working in his office
since early morning, and his stiff muscles protested the move as he walked down
the hall toward Emily’s bedroom.

According
to Ruth, who’d brought in Paul’s lunch an hour or so ago, Emily had gotten
tired and gone to take a nap.

She
was gradually gaining strength, but she still tired easily. However, that
didn’t worry him as much as the way she’d been so quiet for the last couple of
weeks. Paul kept telling himself it was natural. She’d been sure she was going
to die, and the transition would take a while to sink in. She had her whole
life to live now when she hadn’t expected it.

But,
despite his attempts at rational thinking, he couldn’t help but wonder if she
was pulling back from
him
.

She
loved him. He believed that. But she’d fallen in love with him when they’d been
living in a fragile, intense bubble of crisis. Now that the bubble had burst,
he might not be what she wanted or needed for the long, normal years of her
life.