Emily's Daughter

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.

CHAPTER FOUR

EMILY 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.

JACKSON 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…”