by Linda Warren
“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.
THE 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.
EMILY 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.
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 s
ome 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.