Emily's Daughter

She lifted a dark eyebrow.

This was the hard part. “My father took me on that fishing trip as a way to prepare me for what was to come,” he said. “The day after we got back to Dallas, my parents said they wanted to talk to me. I assumed it was about the business, but…” He stopped and swallowed before continuing, “My mother told me she was dying of pancreatic cancer. My father was supposed to tell me on the trip, but he couldn’t. They gave her three months to live. I couldn’t believe it. I was stunned—in shock. My mom was always so active, so full of energy. It wasn’t fair, and I hit back at everything and everyone in sight. But not at her. I didn’t want her to see my pain. I intended to be there for her. She was very brave right up until the end. She died January 30.”

“I’m so sorry,” she immediately offered, feeling the pain that was obviously still with him. Then something clicked in her mind. January 30? That was the day she’d found out she was pregnant. She remembered it vividly. She’d borrowed her mother’s car and driven into Corpus Christi to buy a pregnancy test. She went to Corpus Christi because she didn’t want anyone she knew to see her buying such a personal item. It would’ve been all over Rockport in minutes. She hurried home to take the test. Even though she’d suspected what the result would be, she was in shock. At the same time, Jackson was dealing with another kind of trauma.

“After that, I was restless. I couldn’t concentrate on anything,” Jackson was saying. “My aunt was spending a lot of time with my father, and I told him I had to go. There were too many reminders in the house, at the store. He said he understood, and I hit the road trying to outrun the pain.”

That was why he wasn’t at the hardware store when she’d called. He was trying to deal with his mother’s death. It wasn’t what she’d believed at all.

Why didn’t you come to Rockport?

As if reading her mind, he went on. “I thought about coming to Rockport, but I knew your mother would eat me alive. She didn’t like me much.” He paused for a second. “That wasn’t the real reason, though. I was a mess. All I could think about was my life, my grief, and I couldn’t drag you down with me. You were young, finishing high school, getting ready for college. You didn’t need an albatross around your neck.”

Oh, God, if he only knew.

“I traveled around for a while, then headed to San Antonio to see my friend.” His words froze her thoughts.

Had he been in San Antonio when their daughter was born? Had he been there when she’d given their daughter away?

She licked dry lips. “When did you go to San Antonio?” she asked in a tight voice.

He frowned. “I went that spring and I stayed for about a year and a half and— Emily, are you all right? You look pale.”

“I…ah…” She couldn’t answer as she tried to grapple with this twist of fate. He’d been there when their daughter was born. So close, yet so out of reach. “It’s just hot in here,” she lied. It was the only excuse she could invent for her strange behavior.

“Would you like some water?”

“Please.”

He called the waiter and a glass of ice water was placed in front of her. She held it with both hands, letting the coolness soothe her shaky nerves.

“Better?” he asked as she took several swallows.

“Yes, thanks,” she said. “You were saying?”

“Oh.” He tried to remember what he was talking about. “My friend, Clay, and I started the computer company in San Antonio. It was slow that first year, then it took off like a rocket. Later, we moved the business to Dallas and it’s still doing very well, although Clay’s not with me anymore. He fell in love with a school teacher from Alaska, sold his share to his brother and moved up there.”

After a strained silence, he said, “I promised to call and come back, but do you understand why I didn’t?”

No, I never will, she immediately thought. But he’d had his reasons. He’d loved his mother and he’d coped with her death in the only way he could. He didn’t know about Emily and the baby. He’d no cause to think that she might be pregnant; after all, they’d been so careful. Sadly, his love for her hadn’t been enough to bring him back, and she was the one who’d had to suffer.

Her fingers played with the linen napkin. “I used to rush home from school to wait for your phone call,” she admitted in a near whisper.

“Emily, I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” he said, his voice deep with emotion. “That first night I was home, I couldn’t sleep because I kept remembering our nights on the beach. Later, after the pain and fog had cleared from my mind, I wondered if you were seeing someone else. If you’d forgotten me.”

No, Jackson, I never forgot you. You left a reminder that stayed with me and will stay with me forever.

Her eyes challenged his. “But you forgot me rather easily, didn’t you?”

He looked embarrassed, and she was glad he wasn’t going to lie about it. “Yes, I guess I did. With my mom’s illness and the computer company, I didn’t have time for much else. I’m not proud of that. We made a lot of promises under the stars and I should’ve called and let you know what was happening. I regret my lack of concern for your feelings, but I couldn’t talk about my mom’s death to anyone—not for a long while.” He stopped for a second. “I’m sorry sounds too contrived for my actions, and my only excuse is that I was totally unprepared to deal with the death of someone I loved.” He stopped again. “When I saw you today, I realized I hadn’t forgotten a thing about you. I remember all the little details and—”

She broke in. “Please, Jackson, let’s not dredge it all up.”

He swallowed some wine, his eyes never leaving her face. “Okay, but I want you to know that time meant a lot to me.”

But not enough to bring you back.

She clasped her hands in her lap, thinking maybe that was all she needed to hear…now. Back then, she’d needed a whole lot more. But it really didn’t matter any longer. “What happened to your father?” she asked, trying to get out of dangerous waters.

Her shift in conversation didn’t escape him, but he let it go. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to talk about the past. “My father sold the business and retired. He bought a cabin on a lake and spends his days fishing and playing dominoes with his buddies. He still misses my mom, but he’s a survivor.”

“He never remarried?”

“Nope, he’s more interested in catching that big fish than catching a woman.”

“I’m sorry about your mother,” she said again.

“Me, too, Emily,” he responded readily. “And I’m sorry I let my grief overshadow everything in my life—even my word to you.”

She bit her lip; they were moving onto dangerous ground again. “Did you get married?” she asked abruptly, then wished she could take the words back.

“Yeah, a few years later I decided to settle down. My wife, Janine, was a…”

His voice trailed off as he saw the look on her face, and he quickly added, “I’m not married anymore. I’m divorced.”

“Oh,” she murmured weakly. It wasn’t the fact that he’d been married that startled her. She already knew that. But when he’d said my wife, an odd feeling came over her. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized she’d always seen herself in that position. Which was crazy, completely crazy.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” he told her. “It was one of those marriages that should never have happened, and it didn’t take us long to figure out we were wrong for each other. I wanted kids and a family. She didn’t.”

“Why not?” slipped out before she could stop it.

“She’s a lawyer and works for a big law firm in Dallas. Her total focus was on advancing her career. I understood that. My career was important, too, and we both put in staggering hours. After about two years, I asked her to take some time off and have a baby. She refused, saying she wasn’t ready.” He paused for a sip of wine. “She has two sisters who’d given up careers to raise their children. She said she wasn’t doing that. After four years, I realized she wasn’t going to change her mind, and by that time we’d grown so far apart that the marriage was basically nonexistent. We both wanted different things from life and we mutually decided to call it quits.”

“You wanted children?” she asked quietly.

“Sure” was his quick response. “I was an only child and I planned to have at least two kids, the big house, a dog—the whole nine yards. I just forgot to mention those things to Janine.”

He wanted kids. She didn’t know why she was having a hard time grasping that. Maybe her guilt was spiraling out of control.

“I guess I was looking for what my parents had—a home filled with love and laughter.” He drank more wine. “But I don’t see that in my future now. I’ll soon be forty and I’ve resigned myself to being a fatherless bachelor.”

You’re not. You have a daughter.

The words burned in her throat and she ached to tell him. But what good would it do? Their daughter would be eighteen in August—a grown woman with a life of her own, which didn’t include them.

He interrupted her disturbing thoughts. “How come you never married, Emily?”