by Noelle Adams
“It’s just what?”
Emily sighed resignedly and gave up, since Paul wasn't likely to let this go. “I was just talking to Laura, and it brought up some of my old issues. You know, I always saw her as the girl all the guys wanted, the girl I could never be.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed, and she felt his body stiffen slightly. “So you were feeling insecure?”
“Yeah. Everyone was into her. You were into her too, right?” She felt another hot flash and dropped her eyes.
Paul’s body stiffened even more. “You were feeling insecure about me?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze. “It wasn’t that I thought you would do anything. I know you wouldn’t. It was just…it was a lot like at that restaurant in New York. Only worse, because it was with Laura. I told you it wasn’t anything serious. It just got me going, for some reason.”
Paul tilted her chin up so she would have to look at him. “Emily, you can’t seriously think I’m interested in Laura.”
She sniffed. “I know you wouldn’t do anything.”
“I wouldn’t want to do anything.” Paul sounded indignant, almost angry. “How could you even think such a thing, especially after last night?”
Emily felt like squirming. “Well, I know under normal circumstances you never would be with me, so why shouldn’t I think you might prefer to be with someone else?”
“Emily!” he choked.
She was starting to feel a little guilty at her assumptions, since Paul seemed so absolutely outraged by the idea. It was also very comforting, that he was so offended at the thought that he might be yearning for someone else while he was married to her.
Feeling like she needed to explain herself a little more, she said, “I know we—our marriage—we’re temporary. It’s always been that way. So I know you’ll want to and need to move on with your life after I…after I’m gone. I know I have no right to be bothered by it, but it does bother me to think that you’d rather be with someone else when you’re with me.” She rubbed her face. “It’s such a strange situation to be in, knowing I’m going to die. So it messes up my normal emotions. I’m not usually this weepy. At least, I don’t think I am. I’m sorry if I wasn’t fair to you.”
“Emily, there’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
The ache in her heart suddenly burst into flutters. “Really?” she breathed, gazing up at him.
“That's the truth.” His eyes were intense, almost hungry, and she had no way of understanding what the expression meant.
“Oh. Good.” She swallowed hard. “Me either. I mean, there’s no one else I’d rather be with than you.”
Paul pulled her into a hug so tight he almost cracked her ribs. “Good,” he replied, the one word muffled by her hair.
When they pulled away, Emily felt relieved, happy, and kind of embarrassed by her overreaction. In an attempt to move on, she asked, “So has the evening been too bad for you?”
“No. It’s been fine.”
She peered up at his face. “Are you sure? Were the Masons’ nice enough to you?”
“Yes. They were fine.”
She wasn’t sure if he was speaking the truth, since he looked a little guarded at the question. He obviously didn’t want to talk about it, and it probably wasn’t the best time anyway.
They went back into the house, and the heat inside swallowed Emily up. She really wanted to go home. Now that the emotion was resolved, she felt shaky and totally drained. It would be rude to leave the party early, though, since the Masons’ had planned it just for her.
She told Paul she needed to go to the bathroom, and while she was there she splashed some water onto her face to cool down and revive herself. They only needed to stay another hour, and then they could go home.
When she returned to the living room, she saw first thing that Paul was talking to Mrs. Mason across the room. He was smiling, and it seemed to be sincerely, and Emily was glad to see it.
Laura came over to ask if she was all right. She thought maybe Emily had been upset by what she’d said earlier.
Emily had absolutely no energy for such a conversation. She tried to assure Laura she was fine, but she was having trouble putting together an articulate sentence of more than a few words.
She couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. Maybe the emotion had taken more out of her than she’d realized. Maybe she was just tired from a long day. Maybe it was just too hot in the room. She felt flushed, she was sweating a little, and she felt like she was swaying on her feet.
Laura was expecting her to respond to something she'd said, but Emily couldn’t even remember what had been said.
She took a few deep breaths and suddenly realized she needed to sit down. Her knees felt like they were going to buckle. Her vision blurred over and then darkened. She swayed forward. Would have fallen had strong arms not caught her around the waist.
Emily leaned against Paul, who must have pushed people out of the way to get to her so quickly. He put a hand on her forehead, then on her cheek, then back on her forehead. “Oh baby,” he murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She blinked up at him blankly, having no idea what he was talking about. “Is something wrong with me?” she asked, wondering why she couldn’t seem to stand up without Paul’s support.
“You’ll be all right.” Paul turned to Mrs. Mason, who must have followed him across the room. “We need to get home.”
Mrs. Mason nodded, her eyes full of sympathy and understanding. "She can lie down here if she needs to."
But Emily tried to pull away. “We can’t leave. The party’s not over yet.”
“You have a fever. I don't know how it spiked so quickly.” Paul stroked her hair back from her face. His other arm was still around her waist. “Thanks for offer," he said to Mrs. Mason. "But I need to get her home.”
“Oh, no,” Emily mumbled, realizing that feverish was exactly how she was feeling. A surge of dread and disappointment overwhelmed her.
She really didn’t want to have another fever. She’d been hoping to have sex with Paul again when they got home, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen now.
Now everyone at the party was looking at her like she was a freak, like she was an object of pity, like she was on death’s door.
All of which might be true.
She knew she said goodbye to people and thanked the Masons’ for their hospitality, but she couldn’t really remember any of the conversations.
Then they were walking to the waiting car—or Paul was walking and Emily was stumbling along, leaning on him.
They must have gotten home, but Emily had no memory of it.
***
Emily’s body ached, and she felt like she was trying to break through a thick fog of heat and pain as she fought to open her eyes.
Before she could do so, she felt something cool and wet stroke her face. “Paul,” she breathed weakly. She wasn’t anywhere close to thinking coherently, but she somehow associated the sensation of relief with that name.
She managed to force her eyes open, fuzzily expecting to see a handsome, familiar face and deep gray eyes.
Instead, she saw a woman with a plain, square face and brown hair pulled back in a single braid. “Sorry,” the woman said with a quick flicker of her lips. “Just me.”
Amy. Emily managed to connect a name with the face. “Hi, Amy,” she croaked, aware enough now to realize that it would be rude to express brutal disappointment over the fact that her nurse was tending her rather than her husband. “How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine—thanks for asking.” She wiped the damp cloth over Emily’s face again and added, “He’s sleeping, but he said he was to be woken up if you need him. Would you like me to get him?”
Emily shook her head, wishing it didn’t ache so much, wishing she wasn’t so feeble. Now that she was awake, she felt absolutely miserable. “He should sleep.”
She had no idea what day or time it was, but she was certain Paul needed res
t.
She shifted in the bed, which she discovered was the big four-poster bed in the master bedroom of Paul’s house in the neighborhood. The covers were pushed down to her knees, something she’d probably done in her sleep. Since Amy was cooling her off, Emily felt a little chilled, so she reached down to pull the covers up again.
She was wearing boxer shorts and a tank-top that she had no recollection of putting on. Her hair was pulled into two, low ponytails, but she didn’t know how it had gotten that way.
The clock on the bedside table said it was 6:05 in the morning. Then the memory of the previous evening—the Masons, Laura, getting struck by a sudden fever—came rushing back into her mind.
She groaned, as the full consciousness of what was going on made her body ache even more.
“It’s time for some pills,” Amy said briskly. “They should help you feel better.”
Willing to do anything that might make her feel better, even raise her pounding head, Emily let Amy help her up enough to swallow some pills with cool water.
“When did you get here?” she asked, after she was able to drop her head again.
“An hour or two ago. Your husband didn’t think you were fit to travel back downtown—which was absolutely right—so he called to see if I could come out here instead.”
Emily stirred restlessly under the covers, hoping the pills would take effect soon. She didn’t really want to make conversation, but it was only polite to try. “It was nice of you to come all this way.”
“It wasn’t so far. Your husband even offered to send a car. I guess you all had a bad experience with that other nurse the agency sent, and he didn’t want to risk a stranger.”
Swallowing back another groan at that memory, Emily managed to say, “I’m glad you came.” A wave of heat washed over her, and she pushed down the covers again impatiently. Then she realized that she was in Paul’s bed, in Paul’s room. “Where’s he sleeping?” she asked, without any segue.
“In one of the guest rooms. He’d stayed up with you until I arrived, and he looked totally beat.”
Emily’s eyes strayed over to the door of the bedroom, vaguely hoping to see Paul there. She felt strange and disconnected—in the house that didn’t feel like home the way the apartment did—and she wanted to make sure he was all right.
She just wanted to see him.
“I can wake him up,” Amy said mildly, evidently catching her gaze and interpreting it correctly. She’d picked up the thermometer from the bedside table and reached over to take Emily’s temperature. “He said I could wake him up for any reason.”
Emily shook her head. She wasn’t needy enough to allow Paul to be woken up just because she missed him.
“Your fever is starting to go up,” Amy said. “Do you feel up to taking a bath? I’d like to keep your temperature down as much as we can.”
Emily didn’t want to get out of bed. She didn’t want to take her clothes off. But she was also feeling so sickeningly hot that she couldn’t stop wriggling. So she said, “Okay.”
* * *
Emily was so hot it felt like she was smothering, like she couldn't suck any air down her lungs.
With a surge of panic, she arched up and cried out instinctively for help. “Paul! Paul!” It felt like she was screaming it, but her mouth and throat were too parched to generate more than a broken gasp.
Then wet coolness was being wiped over her face, and she took a shuddering breath of relief. Then there was water at her lips, and she gulped it down desperately. More coolness. More water.
Then she was finally able to relax back onto her pillow. “Paul,” she breathed hoarsely.
When she opened her eyes, she fully expected to see her husband leaning over the bed, cooling her down. She saw Amy instead.
In spite of all the other aches in her body, she still felt a sharp pang of pain in her chest as she wondered why Paul wasn’t here when she needed him.
Amy pulled back the wet cloth she’d been wiping Emily’s face and neck with. “If you’re all right for the moment, I’ll run get him for you.”
Emily was aware enough now to think coherently, and she managed to shake her head, despite how much she wanted Amy to do exactly what she’d offered. “No. Don’t. I’m fine.”
“He’s just down the hall in the library. It won’t take a minute.”
Emily just shook her head again.
Amy soaked the wash cloth in the bowl of ice water on the table beside the bed and wrung it out with professional efficiency. “Are you sure? He said I was to get him immediately if you needed him.”
“I don’t need him.” Emily desperately wanted to see him but also desperately didn’t want to be any more of a burden on him than she already was. “He needs to catch up on work.”
Amy’s brown eyes were uncharacteristically gentle. “I don’t know how much work he’s actually getting done today. He’s really worried about you.”
Emily’s face twisted with emotion, and she writhed on the bed.
“He was in to check on you a little while ago,” Amy added.
It seemed unfair that she kept missing his visits. It felt like she hadn’t seen him in ages. “I didn’t know he was here.”
“You were asleep. It’s the medication—makes you druggy. But that’s got to be better than being wide awake and miserable.”
Emily nodded, tossing her head on the pillow. It was much better this time, with consistent doses of the good medicine Dr. Franklin had prescribed to her during her last fever, but she hated feeling so out of it. And she hated not being aware of Paul at the few times he was with her.
“Are you up for another bath?” Amy asked, putting down the wash cloth and straightening up. “Your fever spikes in the afternoon, and I don’t want it to get any higher.”
Emily didn’t feel up for anything, but she let Amy help her sit up on the side of the bed. She breathed deeply to fight the waves of dizziness.
When Amy returned from the bathroom, where she must have been drawing the bath, Emily said, “At least I haven’t been delirious yet.” She tried to be grateful for whatever she could so she wouldn’t feel sorry for herself.
When Amy just helped her to her feet and didn’t answer, Emily asked, “I haven’t, have I?”
“No. You’ve talked in your sleep some, but that’s normal. You haven’t been truly delirious.”
Emily limped through the large bedroom, leaning heavily on Amy. When she got into the bathroom, she was greeted to the soothing scent of lemon and eucalyptus. That bath was still running, and the large tub was half filled. “I talked in my sleep?” she asked, feeling a stab of anxiety. “What did I talk about?”
Amy tsked her tongue and helped Emily pull off her tank-top and shorts. “Now don’t be worrying about that. I’ve learned to not even pay attention in such cases, since it’s just a lot of disconnected words and thoughts.”
“Was I talking when Paul was in here before?” Emily asked, realizing she sounded almost childish but absolutely incapable of doing otherwise. The idea of babbling out her private thoughts in Paul’s presence was mortifying. Waves of heat slammed into her, and she wasn’t sure if it was the fever or embarrassment. “What was I saying?”
Assisting Emily as she lowered herself into the tepid bath, Amy started to say something, which Emily guessed was another attempt to brush off the subject. But maybe the nurse could tell that it was going to fester in Emily’s mind if she didn’t answer the question, because she paused, restarted, and said, “You were talking about camping and Anne of Green Gables.”
That didn’t sound too terrible, and Emily was able to relax as she stretched out in the tub, the water blissfully cool against her hot skin. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes.
When she’d determined that Emily was all right, Amy left the bathroom and went into the bedroom, probably to straighten up the room and remake the bed, which she usually did while Emily was in the bath.
As Emily’s body cooled down, it also started
to ache more. She tried not to think about feeling this way for three more months.
Feeling even worse.
Until she finally died.
She didn’t want to do it.
She just didn’t want to do it.
She wanted Paul, and he wasn’t here.
A few tears slipped out of her eyes, and she brushed them away impatiently. Being sick was definitely making her emotionally unstable. She’d cried more in the last month than she had her entire life. She took a shaky breath and tried to control herself.
Emily gasped in surprise when Amy’s voice broke into the silence. The nurse must have come back in to check on her, since she was standing in the bathroom doorway now. She must have seen Emily crying.
“Let me get your husband for you.”
Fighting the impulse to accept the offer, since it was exactly what she wanted, Emily shook her head. “I’m really fine. This has been hard on him. He shouldn’t have to help me all the time.”
Amy was silent for several moments. Then she said in a voice that was matter-of-fact, almost bland. “I’ve been doing this a long time. And, in my experience, it’s easier for someone who loves you to be able to help—in any way they can—than to sit around and do nothing.”
Emily didn’t correct the other woman’s assumption. She didn’t have the energy to explain that Paul didn’t really love her. She kind of liked the way it sounded anyway.
She shook her head again, shifting her position and making the bathwater ripple. “Please don’t get him,” she mumbled.
“Okay. It’s your choice.”
* * *
Emily spent the afternoon in a groggy, uncomfortable haze—sometimes dozing off and sometimes just tossing restlessly on the bed. Her fever didn’t spike so high she became delirious, though.
She hadn’t seen Paul all day, not since the previous evening at the Masons’ party. If he occasionally came to look in on her, it was when she was asleep. Somehow his absence made everything worse.
Slowly waking up again, out of a restless, feverish sleep, she felt a cool cloth on her face. “Paul,” she gasped instinctively, although she was becoming lucid enough to realize her caretaker was almost certainly Amy.
