Emily's Daughter (5 page)

Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet; he laid a credit card on the table. The waiter immediately took it and disappeared. Within minutes he was back, and Jackson and Emily got to their feet. They left the restaurant in silence, stepping out into a pleasant May evening. The night sky was clear and bright, and the traffic made a loud humming sound, but Emily was hardly aware of her surroundings as she walked to her car. Jackson followed.

She opened her car door and turned to face him. She didn’t know what to say. So many conflicting feelings surged through her.

“I enjoyed seeing you again,” he said.

“Me, too,” she replied, and meant it. Certain questions had been answered, certain issues resolved—and yet she recognized that the past would always be with her. There would be no absolution. After hearing Jackson talk about kids, that was clearer than ever.

“I’d like to see you again.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Why not?”

“Because we can’t recapture our youth…”

Her words trailed away as he stepped close to her—so close she could smell his aftershave and feel the heat from his body. He cupped her face in his hands, and her heart pounded in her chest in anticipation of what she knew was coming.

His lips gently touched hers, then covered them with a fierce possessiveness she remembered despite all the years that had passed. He didn’t touch her anywhere else. He didn’t need to. Her lips moved under his and she kissed him back. She couldn’t help it.

“I don’t think we have to recapture anything,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s there. It’s always been there. Ever since I first saw you in your mother’s kitchen.”

He was right. The feelings were still alive. Oh, God, they were. Her body was on fire and she hadn’t felt this way since…since those winter nights on the beach. But she couldn’t give in to this. She wouldn’t.

“Jackson—”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“No, I—”

“Yes,” he asserted, and she got into the car without another word. Just before he slammed her door, he said, “Tomorrow, Emily.”

E
MILY DIDN’T REMEMBER
much of the drive home. She kept hearing Jackson’s words. “Tomorrow, Emily.” Over and over they echoed through her head, her heart, and she realized she’d crossed a dangerous line between the past and the future.

Now she was older and much wiser, and the words shouldn’t affect her so intensely, but they did. Had she
learned nothing? Yes, Jackson’s explanation for not coming back was a good one, but still… If he’d loved her as much as she’d loved him, nothing would have kept him away. Instead he’d managed to resume his life without her and she had dealt with hers as best she could.

She’d made bad decisions, and nothing she did now would change that. She sensed that seeing Jackson again was another bad choice. It was probably best to leave the past where it was—in the past. She couldn’t handle anything else.

As she climbed into bed, she decided there would be no tomorrow for her and Jackson. She’d call him and make an excuse. Having settled that, she felt better. Surprisingly she fell asleep easily.

Except that she had a different dream.

And Jackson was in it.

She didn’t wake up crying or trembling. She was actually smiling, and that shook her. She tried to understand this new dream. She and Jackson were on the beach and they were holding a little girl. Their daughter. Emily kept saying “I’m so glad I told you,” and he kept saying “Thank you.”

She pulled her knees up to her chin, trying to still the joy inside her. She didn’t have to look far to grasp the meaning of her dream. She wanted to tell Jackson about their daughter.

She closed her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts. The dream was also about guilt—her guilt. It was consuming her, and it had become more voracious since yesterday. Since his return. Her subconscious had clarified what she had to do and why. She would tell him. He deserved that much; he believed their time together was innocent and beautiful, but it was marred with so many ugly things.

She would tell Jackson about their baby…and the adop
tion. She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but he had a right to know. Beyond that she didn’t want to think. But she had to.

Whatever the consequences, she’d pursue this unaccustomed urge, this need to tell him the truth. Maybe it was the love in his voice when he talked about having kids. Maybe that had triggered her dream. Or it could just be plain old selfishness. She wanted to tell him because she had a desire to share her precious baby with someone. She’d never done that. She’d never spoken of her daughter or the adoption and the grief she’d experienced, and she desperately needed to. She wanted to talk about all of this with her baby’s father…Jackson.

She curled up in bed. If she told him, there would be disbelief in his eyes, along with hatred and anger and disgust. She would see herself through his eyes. Could she endure that?

Grabbing a pillow, she held it tight. “Yes,” she said into the darkness. Right or wrong, she would tell Jackson about their daughter.

W
HEN
J
ACKSON REACHED
the hotel, the first thing he did was call his friend and partner, Colton Prescott.

“Hey, Jackson, I’m glad you’re home,” Colton said before Jackson could speak. “I’m dealing with the Conley contract, but they want to talk to you.”

“I’m not home. I’m still in Houston.”

There was a pause, then, “Problems with the system?”

“No, everything’s running fine.”

“Then why aren’t you back?”

“Because I’ve met someone and I’m staying for a few more days.”

This time there was a very long pause. “Met someone? You mean a woman?”

Jackson laughed at Colton’s disbelieving tone. After his divorce, he’d tried to date, but it became more trouble than it was worth. Every woman he got involved with wanted to rush him to the altar, and he wasn’t ready to tackle marriage again. These days he spent time with his dad and at the company. When he went out, it was strictly for pleasure and he made that clear up front.

“Yeah, a real live woman.”

“Damn, those women in Houston must be a helluva lot better-looking than the ones in Dallas.”

Jackson laughed again. “It doesn’t have anything to do with looks. She’s someone I knew a long time ago.”

“O-o-oh.”

From that drawn-out exclamation, Jackson knew what Colton was thinking. “It wasn’t some one-night stand. This woman means a lot to me.” As he said the words, he realized that he cared a lot about Emily—probably always had.

“Really. Well, that sounds interesting.”

“I’ll let you know when I plan to return.”

“Wait a minute.” Colton stopped him before he could hang up. “What am I supposed to do about Bill Conley?”

“Use some of that Prescott charm on him.”

“But he wants the system in by the first of the month. That’s pushing it and I refuse to do that. Fast work creates glitches that take much more time to fix.”

“I’ll talk to Bill in the morning. Will that help?”

“It sure will. He treats me like a twelve-year-old.”

Jackson smiled. At thirty-two, Colton had a youthful exuberance, but there wasn’t a thing he didn’t know about computers. Once their customers recognized that, everything went smoothly. “See you next week,” he said, ending the conversation.

“Oh, Jackson, your dad called.”

A knot formed in his stomach. “Did he say if something was wrong?”

“No, he just wanted to talk to you.”

“I see,” Jackson said slowly. He’d spoken with his dad last night and everything was fine. So why had he called again? Eager to get off the phone, he added, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

As soon as he’d hung up, he dialed his father’s number. Six rings. Seven… Finally the phone was picked up. “Hello,” a sleepy voice said.

“Dad, it’s Jackson.”

“Jack, my boy, why are you calling so late? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine, but Colton said you called the office. Thought it might be something important.”

“No, not like you mean. I was just mad and upset, and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why were you upset?”

“Because of that damn aunt of yours. You’ll never believe what she did. She came to visit and brought a woman friend with her. A friend she assumed I’d be interested in. How many times have I told her to stop matchmaking? But does she listen? No. She doesn’t hear a word I say. She wanted me to go dancing with them. Can you imagine?
Dancing!
I told her in no uncertain terms what she could do with that idea and she got angry. I figured she’d be calling you and complaining about her mean old brother.”

Jackson took a patient breath. It was the same ongoing argument between his father and aunt. Aunt Maude was lively and sociable, and his dad was happy being by himself, fishing or doing whatever he pleased. Aunt Maude didn’t understand his attitude and Jackson had a hard time with it at first. But he’d finally realized his father had spent years in the work force and after his mom’s death, just wanted some peace and quiet.

“She worries about you,” Jackson told him.

“Well, if she worries so damn much, she can come over here and cook me a meal every once in a while.”

“As a peace offering, why don’t you take her out to dinner? Someplace nice.”

“You know Maudie. She’ll want to go someplace where there’s drinking and dancing.”

“Dad,” Jackson sighed. “Aunt Maude’s always been there for you and it won’t hurt to humor her.”

A pause followed. “All right, all right,” he said irrita
bly. I’ll take her out to eat. But if she brings another floozy over here, I’ll—”

Jackson cut in. “Just tell her how you feel—politely.”

“I do, but I think she has a hearing problem” was the wry answer. “Why didn’t you come home today?”

Jackson didn’t miss the quick change of subject, but he was glad. He’d rather not talk about Aunt Maude and how she got on his dad’s nerves. He preferred to discuss Emily.

“I was going to, but I met someone.”

“Really? Of the female persuasion?”

“Yes, Emily Cooper. Remember her?”

A pause. “Don’t think so.”

“Sure you do. Owen Cooper’s her father—a fishing guide on the coast. We stayed at their home that November before Mom died.”

“Yeah, I remember now. A pretty thing with big brown eyes. You were crazy about her, weren’t you?”

Jackson didn’t answer that. His father knew he’d been a lot more interested in Emily than in fishing. Instead, he said, “She’s a doctor now and works at the clinic where we installed the computers.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yes, and I had dinner with her tonight and I’m planning on seeing her tomorrow.”

“Life is strange,” his dad remarked.

“Sure is. I’ve got to go. Be nice to Aunt Maude.”

“I will, and you have a good time. Lord knows you deserve it.”

As Jackson hung up the phone, he planned on doing just that—enjoy his time with Emily.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Emily waited for Jackson to call or show up at her office, but by noon she began to get a déjà vu feeling. When she finished with her last patient for the
morning, she asked Sharon if she’d had any private calls. Sharon said no, and a discomfort settled around her heart. She didn’t think she’d misjudged his sincerity, but then, she didn’t really know Jackson Talbert at all. Of one thing she was certain, she wasn’t waiting for him. She wouldn’t put herself through that again. But now that she’d screwed up her courage to tell him about the baby, she desperately wanted to…needed to. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

She ordered a take-out salad for lunch and was busily writing notes in patients’ charts when Sharon buzzed her.

She pushed a button on the intercom. “Yes?”

“There’s a Mr. Talbert on line two. Says it’s personal.”

Emily let out a deep breath. “Thanks, Sharon.”

She stared at the phone for a second, gathering her thoughts, then picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Hi, it’s Jackson.”

Her heart fluttered involuntarily at the sound of his voice.

“Yes, I know,” she said simply.

“What do you want to do tonight? You name it and we’ll do it.”

She bit her lip, remembering all the promises he’d made and remembering that he’d kept none of them. That didn’t matter. She had to talk to him; that was the important thing.

“I’ll probably get away from here about five-thirty and then I have to stop by the hospital. I won’t get home until around seven.”

“You work long hours.”

Yes, it’s what I need to keep the memories at bay.

“It’s part of my job,” she said lightly.

“You’ll be tired. Why don’t I pick something up and we’ll eat at your place and talk?”

She felt a moment of joy at his concern, but it vanished
when she realized Jackson was probably hoping for a lot more than food and pleasant conversation. And he’d get it, but not the way he was expecting. Instead, he was going to get the biggest shock of his life.

“That’ll be fine,” she agreed, thinking it would be best if they met somewhere private instead of a public place. At least she’d be in her own surroundings.

“What would you like to eat?”

“Surprise me.”

There was a noticeable pause. “Okay, but remember you said that.” She could hear him smiling.

She gave him her address and they hung up, but Emily was still with him, still hearing his voice. Still experiencing the way he’d always made her feel… Oh, God, she had woven so many dreams around Jackson Talbert, and to her dismay, she found she could easily do it again. So many years, yet she could remember his touch, his smile, his energy, as if he’d never hurt her…never broken her heart. But he had. The past stood between them like a brick wall they couldn’t scale or tear down. Tonight, though, she’d make an attempt to dismantle the barrier brick by brick, and when she was through there’d be nothing left but the truth. A truth that would be stronger than any wall ever built, separating her and Jackson forever. She was preparing herself for the worst.

The rest of the day, between patients and rounds, she kept rehearsing what she had to say, but nothing seemed right. How did you tell a man he had a daughter he’d never see? She didn’t know, and finally decided there
were
no right words. She just had to do it.

They’d agreed to meet at eight. She drove into her garage a little before that and hurried inside, hoping she had a chance to shower and change before—

The doorbell stopped her halfway up the stairs and with
a deep sigh she went to open the door. Jackson stood on the threshold with a large bag and a charming smile.

“Delivery, ma’am,” he joked.

He was dressed in khaki pants and a green plaid shirt that emphasized his beautiful eyes. That old familiar ache circulated through her stomach and she quickly curbed it. She couldn’t let sexual feelings sway her thinking.

She stepped aside and he entered her home. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m late getting in.”

“I know, I saw you drive up,” he said as he set the bag on the kitchen table. He turned to gaze at her. Her hair was clipped at the nape of her neck, and she wore a brown suit with a cream silk blouse. Her dark eyes were enormous and fatigued, but held a sultry welcome he remembered well. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He’d felt that about her years ago and that hadn’t changed.

She ran a hand nervously over her hair and he could tell she was tired—that was obvious. “If you’d like to freshen up, go ahead,” he offered. “I’m in no hurry.”

“Thanks, I will,” she said, and started up the stairs. She was grateful for this reprieve. She desperately needed some time to collect herself and to bolster her courage.

When she’d left, Jackson glanced around the condo. There were hardwood floors throughout and the living area was done in creams and greens with touches of mauve. Everything was orderly, elegant—
perfect.
Just like Emily.

He removed the food from the bag and arranged it on the table, then searched for plates, forks and knives, an easy task since Emily was so organized. He found wineglasses, too, and uncorked the Chardonnay he’d brought. As he poured it, he had no idea what the evening would bring but felt it could only be good. They’d both matured and could now enjoy the fruits of that process.

He only hoped she understood about the past and had forgiven him for his selfish behavior. He couldn’t believe he’d let someone as rare as Emily slip away, but then at twenty-one he hadn’t been thinking too clearly. If she let him, he planned to make it up to her. Oh, yes, he planned to do just that.

E
MILY RUSHED INTO HER ROOM
and stripped out of her business clothes. She grabbed a pair of ivory lounge pants and a tank top and put them on. She intended to be comfortable. After unfastening the clip, she brushed her hair vigorously and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were troubled. She could see that. Could Jackson? She carefully laid the brush on the vanity. It didn’t matter, she told herself. She had to tell him. She had to say the words she’d never said to another person. She had to say them out loud.

I was pregnant. I gave our daughter away.

A lump formed in her throat as the impact of those callous words tore and gnawed at her heart. She’d lived with that feeling for so long and now…

Turning toward the door, she forced herself to stop thinking about the revelation she had to make. She actually wanted to talk about their daughter with Jackson, but once she did, he might not want to see her again. That was a risk she had to take.

As she entered the kitchen, she stopped short. The table was set with candles and wine and she stared openmouthed at the poached salmon, angel hair pasta and spinach salad.

“Jackson! How did you manage this?”

Jackson was busy taking in her new appearance. Her breasts were pressed invitingly against her sleeveless top and her hips were slim and… Her figure hadn’t changed
in all these years, except that her breasts seemed fuller, and he ached for her with an intensity that astonished him.

“Jackson,” she said again to get his attention.

He shook his head to clear it of pleasant memories. “I’m very creative.” He said the first thing that came into his mind. “After your long day, you need more than fast food.”

If she knew all the trouble he’d gone to, she’d probably laugh. He wanted tonight to be special and he’d spent most of the afternoon making sure it would be just that. He’d found a restaurant and a chef who agreed to do everything he’d asked. He’d even bought serving dishes because he didn’t want the food in plastic or paper.

“That’s so thoughtful.” She couldn’t squelch the joy that rose inside her. This was something she hadn’t expected.

“I’m a thoughtful guy. Don’t you remember?” he asked teasingly as he held out a chair for her.

She did. He was kind and caring, too. When he’d learned she was a virgin, he hadn’t wanted to make love to her, but she had pressured him, convinced him otherwise. At seventeen, she’d enjoyed the power she had over him. Those feelings—the passion, the companionship, the excitement—had made her forget the bitter things about her life, but they’d created so many more problems.