by Linda Warren
“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…”
“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 s
quarely. “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.
His father was making him think, opening his eyes, and what he saw disturbed him. At the moment, he could only deal with the pain inside him, but he had to face the consequences of his actions—then and now.
He was not blameless.
“I didn’t say that to hurt you,” George said anxiously.
Jackson glanced up as the morning sun made its appearance. “I know, Dad,” he told him. “You said it to make me think—like you always do.”
George breathed a long sigh. “Then you’ll see Emily.”
“I don’t have much choice, but I’ve got some thinking to do first.”
George walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a frying pan. “How about a big breakfast?”
Jackson smiled as the muscles in his face relaxed. “I could use one of your artery-clogging meals.”
“Watch your mouth, my boy,” George said in a teasing voice, then in a more serious tone, he added, “I’m just saying one more thing and this is strictly an old man’s observation. You never cared for Janine the way you cared for Emily.”
“Dad,” Jackson said impatiently, but he suddenly realized that was probably true. He had loved Emily, like he’d told his dad, truly loved her with all the enthusiasm and honesty of youth.
“Something good will come of this. I feel it,” his father was saying. “Soon, I hope, I’ll be able to take my granddaughter out there—” he pointed to the lake “—fishing. I’ll teach her to bait a hook and show her how to use a rod and reel. I’ll tell her about her grandmother…” His voice cracked on the last word.
Jackson swallowed hard at the pain in his father’s voice, and they embraced. “Now, don’t go getting your hopes up. Remember she’ll be eighteen years old and I doubt she has much interest in fishing.”
“Doesn’t matter. Something good will come of this. Mark my words,” George mumbled.
Jackson didn’t agree, didn’t argue, didn’t speak. All he felt was a pain as intense as when his mother had passed away and he was struggling to stay afloat and keep everything in perspective—his emotions, his life…and Emily.
EMILY WOKE WITH a throbbing headache, but she hadn’t had any dreams. That was a relief. She managed to dress and get to work on time. If anyone noticed her hollow-eyed appearance, nothing was said. She went through the routine of her day, trying not to think, trying only to concentrate on her patients, but at the oddest times she’d hear Jackson’s voice and feel like bursting into tears. She didn’t—she was too professional for that—but it was a struggle all the same.
By the end of the day, she knew what she had to do. She was going home—as she’d promised Becca. She needed to get away, to see her parents, see Becca, and get a different slant on things. Her emotions were close to the breaking point.
She met with Dr. Freeman, who would oversee her patients while she was gone. She hadn’t had more than two days off in years and decided to take ten. She wanted to be home for Becca’s prom. That would cheer her up.
Stopping by the post office, she arranged for her mail to be collected. She also had the newspaper stopped. Then she drove to the condo and packed. Within an hour, she was headed for Rockport, Texas, where she was born and raised.