Emily's Daughter (6 page)

They ate in silence, simply savoring the delicious food. Finally Jackson asked, “Is your father still a fishing guide?”

“Oh, yes. If he can’t be on the water several times a week, he goes a little crazy.”

“And your mother—how is she?”

“Having Rebecca weakened her heart, and she has a lot of bad days. Of course, at her age, having to deal with a
seventeen-year-old stresses her out and she loses her patience, which triggers other problems.”

“I don’t think age has anything to do with it,” he remarked. “She didn’t have much patience with you, either.”

“No, she didn’t.” Emily ran her finger along the rim of her wineglass. “But as I told you in my office, Becca’s very outspoken and that causes a lot of heated arguments.”

“Whereas the only time you rebelled was with me,” he said, and saw the conflicting emotions shift across her face.

“Yes.” Her eyes caught his with a fierceness he didn’t understand.

He reached over and took her hand, wanting to reassure her about their time together. “You didn’t do anything bad, Emily. What we shared was something rare and special. That doesn’t happen too often.”

She freed her hand slowly, his touch stirring emotions she couldn’t face at this moment. He was being so compassionate, so gentle…everything she remembered him to be. She couldn’t face that, either. She had to tell him, had to see this through. And when he knew, those recaptured emotions would crumble into nothingness. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. This was harder than she’d ever imagined.

Suddenly, she got to her feet. “I’d better clean up,” she said nervously, and began to carry dishes to the sink.

Jackson watched her with a puzzled expression, then stood to help her. They cleaned up the dishes without saying a word and carried their wineglasses into the living room. Jackson sat on the sofa; she sat beside him, twisting her glass with such force that he feared she was in danger of breaking it. Uneasiness darted along his spine.

“I need to talk to you,” she said quietly, still working the glass.

“I can see that.”

“This isn’t easy.”

“I can see that, too,” he answered. He placed his hand over hers to stop the agitated movement.

She drew back. “Don’t touch me, please.”

That uneasiness knotted into a hard ball in his stomach, and he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t prepared for this. They were getting along so well. He tried to think of what he’d said to upset her, but nothing came to mind that would cause this reaction.

She set her glass on the coffee table. “You think those days we spent together were special, and they were—until you left and never came back.”

Oh, God, that was it. She still hadn’t forgiven him. He should’ve known.

He turned to her but didn’t touch her. “Emily, I’m so sorry. I tried to explain. I thought you understood.”

She didn’t seem to hear him. “I waited and waited for you to come back, but you didn’t. I waited for a call, a letter, but I didn’t get one of those, either. It was like you’d disappeared off the face of the earth. I needed you terribly, but…”

His chest tightened at the ache in her voice. He never imagined he’d hurt her so deeply, but she had such a passionate nature. They’d confessed their love and made vows to be together—vows he’d broken. It was clear he’d also broken her heart. He cursed himself for his callow youth. Somehow, he had to rectify this.

“Emily, I—”

“No.” She held up a hand. “Let me talk. I have to tell you.”

“Okay.” He settled back on the sofa and everything in him strained to hear her next words.

She clenched her hands in her lap, gaining courage, gaining strength. “After you left, I discovered I was…”
The word stuck in her throat and she couldn’t finish the sentence.

After a moment, he asked, “Discovered what?”

She gulped in a deep breath and forced the words from a mouth that felt dry and bitter. “I discovered I was pregnant.” There…the words were out. Now they had to deal with them.

Absolute silence followed. Jackson shook his head. Had he heard her correctly? No, he couldn’t have.

“What did you say?” he asked warily.

Her eyes jerked to his. “I said I was pregnant.”

He shook his head again and tried to assimilate the words. But they didn’t make sense. “No, that can’t be true. We were so careful. We used a condom every time.”

“That last night we ran out and used the same one more than once. It must have weakened—must have torn—and we didn’t notice.”

“Oh, God.” The blood drained from his face. “It’s true. You were pregnant?”

“Yes,” she murmured in a low voice.

He raked an unsteady hand through his hair as he tried to grasp the situation. His eyes delved into hers. “Did you have an abortion?” The words seemed to come from somewhere outside him.

“No,” she whispered.

He swallowed hard. “You had the baby?”

“Yes.”

“Where…where is it?”

She knotted her fingers together until they were bloodless. This was the difficult part. Now she had to tell him what she’d done. And she had to do it before she lost her nerve.

“I was so scared,” she began in a trembling voice. “I tried and tried to reach you to no avail. Then my mother
found out and she was furious at my stupidity. It was pure hell and I didn’t know what to do. In the end, I did what my parents wanted.”

“What was that?”

“I—I gave her up for adoption.”

The room spun crazily, then righted itself. So many emotions shot through him, each deep and cutting.
I gave her up for adoption.
He struggled to concentrate on Emily and her words. Her cruel words. But one thing was torturing his mind.

“We had a daughter?”

“Yes, but I never saw her. I only heard her crying. I asked to hold her, but they wouldn’t let me.” She spoke matter-of-factly, and that angered him.

He got to his feet, his body rigid. “You gave our daughter to
strangers?
”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “How could you do something like that? How could you? She was our flesh and blood. Didn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Do you think it was easy for me?” she snapped, her control slipping. “I was seventeen, alone and scared.”

“You weren’t alone. You had your parents.”

“My mother was having problems with her own pregnancy. They couldn’t help me.”

“That’s bull and you know it,” he shouted. “You just wanted to get rid of it as fast as possible so you could get on with your life, your big career.”

She rose to her feet, her eyes enormous with the emotions that consumed her. “How dare you! You weren’t here, so don’t tell me how it was. You didn’t have to live through the horror and pain of hurting your parents. And you have no idea what it was like to give birth all alone in a cold, sterile room and have that child taken from you
before you could even see her face. I live with that agonizing memory every minute of every hour of every day. I hear her crying and I ache to hold her. So don’t stand there and act holier than thou—because you are
not
blameless.”

He paled under the attack and sank onto the sofa with a shattered expression. Emily wanted to say something, but any words she could have spoken were trapped between her need to console and her own desire for some sort of comfort from him.

Jackson thought of all the years he’d wanted a child and all along he’d had a daughter. A daughter! He had a daughter. The words went around and around in his head until he was dizzy with a sensation of loss and despair. He wasn’t blameless, just as she’d said, and that intensified the feeling until he was afraid he might be ill.

“Jackson?” Emily found her voice.

Slowly he raised desolate eyes to her. “How could you give her away?”

She bit her lip, striving to explain, but the only thing that came out was “It’s something I bitterly regret.”

“Then why, Emily, why?”

She turned away, unable to answer. She had asked herself that same question so many times and never found a reason, an excuse, that gave her any peace.

“Why are you telling me now? Is this some sadistic way of getting back at me for what I did?”

She whirled around. “No! I never intended to tell you at all. But last night, when you talked about having kids, I, ah, I wanted to tell you that you had a daughter. I couldn’t do it. Then later the feeling grew—and I have to admit it was purely selfish.” She drew a shuddering breath. “I have this need to share her with you. I’ve never done that with anyone.”

Jackson raked both hands through his hair. “God, Emily, I’m having a hard time taking this in.”

She knew that, and there was nothing she could say to ease his pain.

“Why didn’t your parents help you?”

“Remember, my mother was pregnant, and it was a difficult pregnancy. When she found out I was pregnant, too, she went into a rage, and the doctor said if she didn’t calm down, she could lose her baby. I was devastated. I didn’t want her to lose Rebecca.” She paused. “Later, she said I’d shamed and disgraced the family, and adoption was the only answer.”

“Oh, my God.”

“I was torn between my child and my parents. When I couldn’t reach you, I—” She choked back tears. Right now, those emotions seemed as real as ever.

“So you agreed to give the baby away?”

“Yes.”

He stood and knew he had to go. This was something he didn’t know how to handle and he was struggling to keep his temper.

“I came here tonight hoping we could salvage something from the past. But there’s nothing left except a deep, ugly void that keeps growing by the minute. I’m trying to understand, but I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

He swung toward the door, then stopped. “Do you know where our daughter is?”

“No. The adoption was confidential.”

His expression tightened. “I’m sorry, Emily, but I have to get away from you. I just…I can’t accept this.” With that, he disappeared out the door. And out of her life.

E
MILY WALKED CALMLY
upstairs to her bedroom. She lay across the bed and stared at the ceiling. Slowly the tears started, running unchecked from her eyes.
I have to get away from you.
Over and over the words kept torturing her. It was what she’d expected—the hatred, the disgust and anger. All the things she felt about herself, she recognized in his eyes. But the impact of actually seeing and hearing those emotions was much worse than she’d ever imagined. It was horrible and incapacitating.

Sobs racked her body and she turned over and curled into a ball. She shouldn’t have told him. She shouldn’t have. Now Jackson was hurting like she was. That had accomplished nothing; it had only made matters worse.

She had wanted to share her daughter with him, but she couldn’t share something she’d never had. She saw that now. Telling Jackson had been a big mistake and opened doors she couldn’t close. She had to find the strength to go on. She had before, and she would now. She kept telling herself that, but all she could hear was
I have to get away from you.

In the early hours of the morning she fell into an exhausted sleep.

J
ACKSON DROVE STRAIGHT
to his hotel and packed his bags. He’d flown to Houston, but he couldn’t wait for a flight. He had to leave
now,
so he rented a car and headed
home to Dallas. He took I45 North, and as he drove through the night all he could hear was
I was pregnant. I gave her up for adoption.
Sweet, caring Emily had destroyed everything he’d held dear about life. She was pure, innocent, good—that was what he’d foolishly believed. She had shattered that illusion into so many parts he’d never be able to piece it together again.

Had he ever really known her? Was what they’d shared merely sexual? Had he confused sex with other emotions? He shook his head; he didn’t know anymore. His hand hit the steering wheel in anger. He
wanted
to understand, but other, deeper feelings kept getting in the way.

No wonder Emily was nervous when he’d first seen her in the boardroom. She had good reason to be. “How could she do it? How could she give our daughter away?” The words echoed in the car, but there was no answer and he felt there never would be.

Rain splattered the windshield and he flipped on the wipers. The steady to and fro movements seemed to calm some of his anger. To and fro, back and forth—the effect was almost hypnotic. He turned northeast off the freeway just before Dallas, and by four o’clock he was sitting on his dad’s deck, gazing across the peaceful lake. George lived on a privately owned lake, away from the noise and pollution of the big city. The water glistened silver with moonlight, but Jackson didn’t even notice.

I have a daughter.
He would never know who she looked like, her personality, her likes or dislikes. He would know nothing about her—just that she’d been born. Being a man was lousy, he decided. A man should have more rights. He had a right to know his own child. The thought swept through his mind and certain ideas began to take shape. Before he could respond, a light came on in his father’s bedroom; George was an early riser. When a light
shone through from the kitchen, Jackson stood and tapped on the back door.

“Dad, it’s Jackson. Let me in.”

The blind opened a crack and his father stared at him with a puzzled frown, then the door swung in.

“Jack, what are you doing here?” George Talbert wore navy-blue pajamas. His gray hair was tousled and he had a worried look in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Just let me in and I’ll explain.”

George moved aside, still frowning.

Jackson could smell coffee perking. “Coffee,” he sighed. “I need coffee.” He walked to the pine cabinets, grabbed two cups and filled them. Bringing the coffee to the oak table, he handed his dad a cup and sat down.

George scratched his head and took a seat.

Jackson sipped the strong, black coffee and wondered how to tell his father. That was the reason he was here. He had to tell someone.

The kitchen, dining area and living room all looked out onto the lake and Jackson sat for a moment, enjoying the tranquillity.

Finally George said, “You came all the way out here for a cup of coffee?”

“No,” Jackson answered, but said nothing else. He’d always been able to tell his dad anything, and he valued that bond. Now he had a hard time finding the right words.

“Why aren’t you still in Houston with that girl, Emily?”

The question whirled around in his mind, and he had to admit he’d hoped they’d be wrapped in each other’s arms this morning, discovering new and— What a fool he’d been.

“Are you going to tell me or just sit there with that
gloomy expression? You know I’m not getting any younger.”

Jackson glanced at his dad. At sixty-four, he was active and in good health, and Jackson was grateful for that. He couldn’t stand to lose another person he loved—although there were no guarantees in life. That was a reality he’d learned a long time ago, but now he’d lost a daughter he hadn’t even known about, someone he’d never even had a chance to love.

“Jackson, talk to me, son,” George begged.

He took a sip of coffee. “I’m not sure where to start,” he said frankly.

“Does it have to do with Emily?”

“Yes, she told me something and I…I…”

“What?”

He swallowed painfully. “This isn’t easy.”

“Just say it.”

“She said that after I left Rockport, she found out she was…pregnant.”

George’s eyes opened wide. “Pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“My God. A baby? She had your baby?”

“Yes.” His hand gripped the cup; he could crush it if he just applied pressure and he wanted to. He wanted to break something badly.

“Where is this child? Where’s my grandchild?”

Jackson looked up at that word—
grandchild.
His father had always wanted grandchildren, but after his divorce from Janine, George had finally accepted that wasn’t going to happen. But all along, there’d been a girl out there who belonged to them. His daughter. His dad’s grandchild. A child they would never see.

“Jack.” His father waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention. “Where’s our child?”

He released a tight breath and said the words that felt like acid in his throat. “Emily gave her up for adoption.”

“My God, no!” George cried out.

“Yes, Emily gave her away. I don’t know where she is, and neither does Emily. Strangers have my daughter.”

“A girl, you have a daughter.” A softness came over George’s face. “Sarah would have loved a granddaughter.”

At the mention of his mother, Jackson had to stifle tears. He ran both hands down his face in a weary gesture. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so hurt and angry inside, I can’t think. All I can do is feel and I don’t like what I’m feeling.”

George stood. “I’ll get you another cup of coffee.”

Jackson started to protest, but he realized his father was giving him time.

Placing the cup in front of him, George said, “From what I remember about Emily, she was a pretty, sweet and caring girl. Owen and Rose were very protective of her. They kept a tight rein on her—especially Rose.”

“Rose hated my guts,” Jackson spit out.

“Well, she probably knew what you were doing with her daughter.” George sat down and looked directly at his son.

Jackson met that look squarely. “Did you?”

George shrugged. “I knew something was happening. You couldn’t take your eyes off her, and I saw all those secret glances at the dinner table. One night I woke up and you weren’t in the room or in the bathroom. It was a couple of hours before you came back. I figured you were with Emily, but I didn’t do anything about it. Hell, you were twenty-one and a man. There was nothing I
could
do.”

“We were so careful…. Neither one of us was ready for a pregnancy.”

“Did you love her?”

“What?” he asked, but he’d heard the question. He just didn’t want to answer it.

“Did you love Emily?” George repeated.

“Yes,” he admitted slowly.

“Did you promise to go back and see her?”

He wanted to block out the truth, but he couldn’t. “Yes, but then you and Mom told me about her illness and I couldn’t think about anything else. Later, I just had to get away.”

George patted his arm. “It was a difficult time for all of us.”

He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “I just can’t understand how she could do that—give up our baby.”

“I’m sure she didn’t do it without a lot of pain and suffering. It couldn’t have been an easy decision. Why didn’t her parents help her?”

“When Rose found out, she flew into a rage and there was some danger of her losing her own baby.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about Rose’s pregnancy.”

“Emily said she did what her parents wanted.”

“What did she mean by that?”

“Her parents were hurt and embarrassed by the situation and they insisted that the only thing to do was give the baby away so no one would ever find out. They had their own child to worry about and I suppose they weren’t interested in raising Emily’s bastard.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

George shook his head. “Emily was alone, scared and probably didn’t know what to do. Why in God’s name didn’t she call you? She knew where you lived.”

“She did,” Jackson said in a low voice. “She called
the hardware store and the house, but I was too upset about Mom to take any calls, so she never got through to me.”

“Oh, my God.” His father sounded horrified.

What?” Jackson asked urgently.

“I remember there were several calls from Owen after Sarah died. I wasn’t in a mood to talk to anyone. Besides, I assumed it was just about fishing. Maybe he was calling about Emily’s pregnancy.”

Jackson frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t understand why the man kept leaving messages for me.” George slapped the table with his hand. “Jack, we’ve done that family a terrible injustice.”

Jackson took that news the way he had all the rest—with a blow that was threatening to overwhelm him. “I can’t grasp any of this.”

George shook his head. “I know, son.”

Jackson didn’t say anything else and George asked, “What are you thinking?”

“I keep wavering between anger and compassion,” Jackson told him. “Emily had to deal with the pregnancy alone. As you said, that couldn’t have been easy. She’s a proud, intelligent woman.”

“Yes,” George agreed.

“Then, on the other hand, I feel she callously gave our child away. I don’t even know where my daughter was born or anything about her.”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“I was in a state of shock and…I had to get away from Emily before I said something I’d later regret.”

“I see,” George muttered. “What do you plan to do?”

“I’m not sure,” Jackson said, taking a swallow of coffee.

“You’re not planning on leaving things like this, are you?”

Jackson inhaled deeply. “I can’t answer all these questions, Dad. Give me some space.”

“I always try to do that,” George said in a reasonable voice.

He knew that and he was snapping at his father for no reason. There was silence for a moment, then Jackson said, “Sorry, Dad, but there’s something on my mind and I can’t shake it.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can always talk to me.”

He knew that, too. He took another deep breath. “I’m thinking of finding my daughter.” The words seemed to embrace the morning air and they sounded so right, so real.

“Hot damn! Now you’re talking.”

Jackson tried to smile at his dad’s exuberance, but his facial muscles couldn’t complete the task. “She has Talbert blood in her veins and she deserves to know that, and I deserve to know where she is and that she’s happy.” He wasn’t sure of much, but he was sure about that.

“Did you talk this over with Emily?” George asked.

Jackson fingered his cup. “No.”

Silence. Then George plunged on. “Do you plan to?”

“I’m having a hard time thinking about Emily.”

“Well, son, much as you want to deny it, you’re not blameless in this.”

Jackson sucked his breath in sharply. He’d never expected to hear those words from his father—the same words Emily had used. But it was the truth, and it burned through him like a wildfire, searing nerves that were already frayed and weak.

“Don’t you think I’m aware of that?” he shot back.

“I’m just saying there has to be a good reason for what she did. Find out what it is, then do something about it.”

“Dad, you make this—”

“Talk to Emily,” George broke in. “Then find my granddaughter, because I won’t settle for anything less.”

Jackson lifted an eyebrow. “Your granddaughter, huh? All of a sudden this is about your granddaughter.”

Without missing a beat, George replied, “You’re damn right it is.”

Jackson shrugged. “Well, whatever we call her, she’s probably happy and with a loving family. She may not even suspect she’s adopted.”

“And it could be just the opposite,” George said solemnly.

Jackson squeezed his eyes tight at the agonizing thought.

“You have to talk to Emily. The way to find your daughter is through Emily.”

“Dad.” Jackson sighed in irritation and sipped at his coffee.

“Last night you were glad enough to see her,” George reminded him.

“That was last night.”

“How did you leave things?”

“Not good.”

Silence ensued again.

George watched his son closely. “I raised you better than that.”

Jackson’s eyes slammed into his father’s, demanding an explanation.

“I raised you never to judge anyone unfairly,” George said quietly. “And you’re judging Emily.”

Jackson got to his feet and carried his cup to the sink. His father was correct, as always. He was judging Emily, something he had no business doing. He didn’t know what had happened back then and he’d never bothered to go and
find out. He didn’t have a right to anger or much of anything else. It took two to create a baby, and he had to take responsibility.