Listed: Volume IV (5 page)

He
held her just as tightly as she wanted, and he was still holding her a few
minutes later when she fell into an exhausted sleep.

*
* *

Things had changed when
she woke up. She could see from the edges of the window coverings that it was
nighttime. The sheets on the bed seemed to have been changed again, since they
were clean, crisp, and cool. Her body felt weak and drained but blissfully
without heat or pain. And Paul had changed clothes—he was now wearing a t-shirt
and pajama pants.

He
was also sound asleep.

But
he was still holding her against him, her body pressed up against his side and
her cheek pressing against his chest.

She
felt absolutely wonderful, exulting in the relief from fever, achiness, and
delirium. Something was deliciously satisfying about the way Paul was asleep
beside her—that he’d lowered his guard, relaxed, let go.

But
she was curious enough to make the effort to raise her head and look at the
clock.

It
was just after three-thirty in the morning. She had no idea what day it was.

Her
slight stirring must have woken Paul. He shifted beside her and, when she
looked down, his eyes were opened.

“Are
you all right?” he asked thickly, his eyes still groggy from sleep.

“Yeah,”
she murmured with a tender smile, emotion rising up without restraint in her
chest. “I’m better.”

He
returned her smile and pulled her into a soft hug, and she adjusted until she
was comfortable in his arms.

“How
long was I sick?” she mumbled.

“Two
days.”

“Oh.
It felt like longer.”

“Tell
me about it.”

Something
about the dryness in his voice touched her, and she squeezed him hard with a
sudden overflow of feeling.

“So
we can still go camping?”

“Of
course. You can take it easy today and, if you’re recovered, we’ll leave
tomorrow.”

She
let out a sigh. “Sounds good. Didn’t want to waste all my wonderful birthday
presents.”

Paul
gave a huff of soft laughter.

She
settled against him happily, looking forward to going to sleep again.

It
wasn't long before she did.

*
* *

Paul was in a really
bad mood.

Emily
had never seen him in this kind of mood before. He’d been angry with her. He’d
been withdrawn. He’d been frustrated and impatient. But she’d never seen him
just generally grumpy for no apparent reason.

The
closest she’d seen him like this was that day in Egypt when he’d been annoyed
by their guide, Akil, and then she’d gotten into a fight with him over leaving
the sights early. His mood then, however, had clearly been prompted by a
specific situation—no matter how irrational his response to it was.

But
there was no explaining what was wrong with him today.

He
was just in a bad mood.

They
were flying to Prince Edward Island for their camping trip, and Emily had woken
up cheerful and excited. Paul had been quiet over breakfast, but she hadn’t let
it worry her. He’d been as considerate with her as normal as they'd gotten
ready to leave for the airport.

But
things had started to go wrong when they’d been about to take off in the
private jet he’d chartered—a ridiculous expense, but he said all the commercial
flights were too long and roundabout. Their takeoff was delayed because of
severe weather in the area. While Emily was anxious to get to PEI, and delays
at airports were always frustrating, she wasn't too worried about it. It wasn’t
like she was squeezed into a coach seat on a hot, crowded airplane for hours. She
could stretch out and read Shakespeare. Waiting an extra hour or two just
wasn't that big a deal.

Paul
had not been pleased, though, and his displeasure had been evident to everyone
around him, including the airport manager who ended up apologizing to Paul more
than once for a weather situation he had no control over.

Emily
had tried to get Paul to drink his mimosa, telling him he needed more vitamin C
but mostly just hoping a little champagne would take the edge off his mood.
He’d eyed her with cool impatience and obediently drunk the flute of mimosa in
four gulps.

His
mood hadn’t improved.

Emily
quickly grew annoyed, but she didn’t reproach him. Not until he snapped at the
young woman serving them on the plane. Emily asked for no zucchini in her
vegetable and cheese omelet, but it arrived with zucchini in it. She didn’t
think it was a problem, and she just started to pull out some of the unwanted
zucchini and eat the rest of the very tasty omelet in perfect contentment.

But
Paul called the server over and made Emily give the woman the plate back until
they could get the order right. Emily had never seen him be anything but perfectly
polite to service workers, and even now he didn't say anything directly rude or
offensive. But his manner was brusque, and his tone was very, very curt.

The
young woman serving them was clearly upset by Paul’s terseness. Emily could see
it in the woman's face as she returned the omelet to the back of the plane. So
Emily made a perfectly reasonable comment to him about how he didn’t have to
take out his bad mood on the people around him.

They
got into a long, heated argument. Over absolutely nothing. Finally Emily was so
frustrated and indignant that she’d just given up. The jet was able to take off
at last, so she read Shakespeare for most of the trip while Paul made calls and
worked on email.

She
listened to him get in arguments with four different people on the phone, over
various issues connected to his work that weren’t going the way he wanted them
to go. From what she could tell from overhearing only one side of the
conversations, none of the issues seemed all that important, but Paul
definitely acted like they were.

By
the time they landed at the Charlottetown Airport on PEI, Emily had absolutely no
patience left with her husband. Because of the way the day had gone so far, she
wasn’t at all surprised that there was a hold-up as they tried to get through
customs. It wasn’t long, but it was enough for Paul to speak sharply to several
more people.

She
was actually a little embarrassed. He never raised his voice, and the words he
said were always basically civil, but his tone and his expression made it clear
he was displeased with everyone he encountered. Because they’d arrived on a
private jet, airport employees were going out of their way to accommodate him
and so were flustered when he was so obviously unhappy with them. Emily tried
to smile sympathetically and speak kindly to whomever he was terse with,
thanking them for everything they did to help.

She
didn’t try to talk to Paul. Obviously, any attempt at friendly conversation
would be futile.

When
they’d gotten off the plane, Paul had tried to get her to put her leather
satchel on the baggage cart with the rest of their luggage for the porter to wheel
to the car. She’d refused, ostensibly because she’d wanted to have her laptop
and Shakespeare with her for the car ride to the north of the island but mostly
because he’d been so bossy about ordering her to give it up.

Now
she was regretting her stubbornness, though. Her bag was really heavy with the
laptop, Paul’s old hardback edition of Shakespeare, and several other
potentially useful items she’d tucked away in it. Although the airport wasn’t
large, they did have to walk a bit to get from their gate to where the car was
going to pick them up.

She
didn’t complain though, since she’d been the one who insisted on carrying the
satchel.

If
Paul was just walking at a normal speed, it wouldn’t matter. He was moving
through the airport with long, impatient strides, however, and Emily could
barely keep up.

Eventually,
she stopped trying. She was out of breath. Her satchel was too heavy. There was
no reason they needed to hurry. And Paul was infuriatingly grumpy.

She
wasn’t going to run to keep up with him.

When
he noticed she was no longer beside him, Paul turned around and walked back
toward her.

She
glared at him, but he just ignored it. Without speaking, he reached over and
lifted the strap of her satchel off her shoulder and moved it onto his.

Then
he just started walking again.

Emily
stared in outraged astonishment at his lean back and long legs in his expensive
clothes.

Why
the hell had she ever thought it was a good idea to get married to such a
presumptuous, bad-tempered man?

She
was tempted to just sit down on the floor of the airport in well-deserved
retaliation. She didn’t though, since it was a rather childish impulse. She
walked after him, not trying very hard to catch up. As it happened, she did
catch up because Paul had simply stopped in the middle of the hall, evidently
waiting for her.

She
hoped his waiting was a sign of remorse at his gruff mood, but he didn’t say
anything when she fell into step with him. She didn’t say anything either,
mostly because she didn’t trust herself to speak without biting his obnoxious
head off.

They
eventually made it to the hired car waiting for them, and Paul returned her
satchel after they’d both climbed into the plush back seat.

Paul’s
phone rang then, and Emily listened to him have a brief conversation with someone
who had evidently called to tell him that a project he was working on was put
on hold indefinitely.

When
Paul hung up the phone, Emily slanted him a look of annoyed impatience.

“What?”
he demanded, catching her expression.

She
rolled her eyes and looked away, determined not to get into another argument
with him, since nothing could be resolved until he was out of this mood.

“If
you have something to say,” Paul said in a clipped tone, “then just say it.”

“If
I have something to say!” she repeated in outrage, her patience snapping like a
twig. “What the hell is wrong with you today?”

“Nothing
is wrong with me. There have been a number of frustrations—”

“That’s
ridiculous!” she interrupted. “You’re acting like people have engineered all
these things on purpose to spite you. I don’t care if you’re in a bad mood. You
can’t take it out on everyone around you. You’re acting like the world is out
to get you today. I'm telling you it’s not!”

He
gave a long-suffering sigh. “I do not think the world is out to get me. I’ve
had a lot on my mind today, and things aren’t going smoothly, but there’s no
reason for you to overreact just because I expect a certain level of service
and—”

“A
certain level of service? People are running in circles trying to accommodate
you, and you’re treating them all like crap. I’m sorry if things have
frustrated you today. I’m sorry if thunderstorms and computer problems and
legal contracts signed years ago have all conspired to give you a very bad day.
But you can’t do anything about them! It’s all out of your control. It’s out of
your control! Why the hell are you getting so uptight about little things you
can’t do anything about?”

Paul
lips tightened ominously, but he just looked away from her, gazed out the
window of the now-moving car.

She
breathed raggedly and stared at his impassive profile. For no good reason, she
suddenly recognized that he didn’t just look tense and grumpy.

He
looked wounded somehow.

“Paul,”
she began again, her voice softer and broken by a surge of concern. “Paul, what’s
going on? Has something happened?” She wanted to scoot over and hug him, to
press herself against him in some sort of comfort. But he was too stiff and
standoffish, and she was sure her advances wouldn’t be welcome.

“Nothing
has happened,” he said coolly, looking back at her with eyes that now gave
nothing away.

“Then
why are you in this mood? It’s not like you at all.”

“Can
we just drop it?”

She
flinched slightly at his clipped tone and withdrew immediately. She pulled her
Shakespeare out of her satchel and opened it up to the
Merry Wives of
Windsor
. She pretended to read.

*
* *

Emily woke up in a
comfortable bed in a picturesque room at an inn near the Prince Edward Island
National Park on the north coast of PEI. Paul had gotten them a suite for the
three days they’d be camping, just in case Emily got sick or decided she’d
rather have a real bed and bathroom.

Emily
wasn’t planning to use it, since she was determined to go through with their
camping plans, but she hadn’t objected when Paul suggested they spend the
afternoon in the suite so they could comfortably shower after traveling, she
could rest, and he could get a little work done before they went to the
campsite.

She
had taken a long bath in a lovely, claw-foot tub and then had taken a two-hour
nap. She was tired from the frustrating morning and still kind of worn from her
latest bout of fever, and she’d slept harder than she usually did in the middle
of the day.