by Linda Warren
Silence reigned again.
“If that’s all, I’ve got to go. Tommy’s waiting.” She got to her feet.
Jackson stood also. “The boy with the earring.”
Her eyes challenged him. “Yeah, you got something to say about it?”
“Enjoy yourself and enjoy life, but don’t be too eager to experience it too fast. It comes quick enough.”
“What kind of crap is that?” she asked rudely.
“Just a father’s—”
She interrupted. “Don’t say it.” She put her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear it.”
He removed her hands. “I’m sorry this has caused you so much pain. You’ve had two parents who’ve loved and cared for you for seventeen years. It’s selfish of me to try and snatch that away from you, and I won’t.” He swallowed. “But if you find there might be a place in your heart for me, all you have to do is call.”
He walked to his car, got in and drove away. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. His nerves were tied in such knots that one glimpse would cause him to break down. He had to resist the urge to find Emily, to see her one more time before he left. He didn’t know what good that would do. They were both struggling to stay afloat in a sea of emotions that were threatening to pull them under. But, God, he needed her. Now he’d have to wait…wait to see if Emily needed him, too.
THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were the worst Emily had ever spent, except for the day they’d taken her baby. Becca tried her patience to the limit, but she didn’t falter or give up. Rose came home from the hospital and things got worse, if that was possible. Becca was even more sullen, rude and belligerent. Nothing anyone said made a difference, and Emily began to despair of ever reaching her.
Finally she knew they needed counseling. She arranged for her parents, Becca and her to see a psychologist in Corpus Christi. Becca threw a fit and didn’t show up for the appointment. Emily tried to talk to her, but she adamantly refused to have anything to do with a psychologist.
Emily talked to a friend in Houston who was also a psychologist, and she told Emily that Becca was going through a trauma; it would take her time to adjust. She told Emily not to force her, just to be patient and supportive, constantly showing Becca that she loved her. Emily went along with her advice, and she and her parents continued to see the therapist once a week in Corpus Christi. She was surprised they didn’t object.
Every day she thought of Jackson and wished for his presence, but she’d made the decision to do this alone. In the turmoil of things she’d forgotten to give him the photos of Becca. She put them in an album and mailed them, hoping they’d bring him some comfort.
Emily drove the three-hour commute to and from work daily. She had talked with Dr. Bensen and explained the situation. She cut back her hours so she could get home by six, but Becca didn’t care. She wasn’t home most days when Emily got there. Emily then had to search Rockport to find her. An argument would ensue, although Becca always came home.
Becca wanted her room back and asked Emily to move out. That hurt. They’d always shared a room. Emily didn’t say anything. She moved into the bedroom off the kitchen, the one her parents saved for tourists.
Rose and Owen were there for support, and it helped at times, but she really needed Jackson. She couldn’t handle Becca. Their special bond had been irrevocably broken, and there didn’t seem to be a way back.
JACKSON THREW HIMSELF into his work. He tried not to think. His only goal was to get through each day. He knew he was bad-tempered, and his staff, even Colton, left him to his own misery.
Nancy, his secretary, walked into his office one afternoon, two weeks after his return. “You have a package,” she said.
“Fine,” he growled, not taking his eyes off the computer screen. “Put it anywhere.”
“It’s from Rockport.”
He raised his head and grabbed the package from his desk. “Thanks,” he mumbled, ripping the paper away.
Nancy departed quickly.
There was a note attached to the front of an album. “Thought you might like these. Emily.” He slowly opened the cover and his heart raced as he stared at pictures of his daughter from the day she was born to the previous Christmas. There she was in a crib, sitting on a bicycle, holding a fishing rod and standing by the red Mustang, and so many more that he lost himself in her life. His heart completely stopped when he saw what was beneath the album—a framed eight-by-ten of Becca as she was today.
Dark eyes, just like Emily’s, stared back at him. He reached out and touched her precious face and felt an intense need to call Emily. He picked up the phone, then immediately replaced it. If he heard her voice, he’d be back in Rockport in a flash and he couldn’t do that. He had to give them time—as he’d promised. He wouldn’t break that promise.
Colton entered the office and Jackson smiled at him. Colton seemed taken aback. Jackson hadn’t smiled in days.
“Want to see the most beautiful girl in the whole world?” Jackson asked, still smiling.
“Sure,” Colton answered guardedly.
Jackson handed him the eight-by-ten of Becca. “That’s my daughter.”
“Wow,” Colton said, studying the face.
Jackson flipped through the album and found the picture he wanted—one of Emily and Becca with their arms around each other. He turned it around so Colton could see and pointed to the photo. “That’s her mother.”
“Wow,” Colton said again. “I see where she gets her looks.”
“Yeah.” Jackson sighed. He kept gazing at the photo. Emily and Becca appeared to be close to the same age, but they were mother and daughter. God, how he missed them.
“Jackson?”
Shocked by hearing his name, he raised his head. He’d forgotten Colton was in the room.
“I hate to bother you, but I just came by the front office and Janine is out there, asking to see you.”
“Damn, I’d forgotten all about Janine wanting to talk to me. I left my cell number and she never called. Must be important, though, if she came over here on a work-day.”
Colton shrugged. “Must be. Just thought I’d warn you.”
Almost on cue, his intercom buzzed. He glanced at Colton. “I’ll handle it. Thanks.”
As Jackson pressed the button, Colton walked out. “Yes, Nancy?” he said into the intercom.
“Ms. Taylor’s here to see you.”
“Send her in, please.” He didn’t know what Janine wanted, and he’d really rather not talk to her, but an encounter of some sort was obviously unavoidable.
Janine swept into his office wearing a cream suit with a short skirt and matching heels. Her blond hair was shoulder-length and her blue eyes were frowning at him. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. I thought you lived in this office. At least you did when we were together.”
Jackson got to his feet and wondered how he’d ever thought he loved this woman. She was nothing like Emily and— He stopped his thoughts. “You had my cell number, Janine. You could’ve called me back,” he remarked in a mild tone.
“I’m sorry,” she immediately apologized. “I’m just feeling tense these days and I wanted to talk to you in person.”
“Have a seat,” Jackson invited.
Janine took the leather chair across from his desk. She crossed her legs and the sight did absolutely nothing for Jackson. Whatever he’d felt for her had died a long time ago.
“How’s your father?” she asked.
“Fine,” he replied. “What’s on your mind, Janine?” He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.
She smoothed her stocking-clad knee with a nervous hand. “My life’s a mess and I need help.”
Jackson was thrown by the personal statement. It wasn’t as though he and Janine were the best of friends or shared confidences anymore. They’d divorced and gone their separate ways.
He rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure how that concerns me.”
“Oh, Jackson, jus
t let me explain, okay? This is important.”
“What is?”
“You know how hard I’ve worked to make partner in the law firm.”
“It’s been your goal ever since I met you.”
“A month ago Mike Garrett made partner. I was shocked. He’s been with the firm ten years and I’ve been there twelve. I put in a helluva lot more hours than he does and I bring in more clients, but he made partner because he has connections and he’s a man. I can see now that a woman will never succeed in this firm and I’ve made my position very clear. I’m leaving.”
Jackson shook his head. “Janine, I sympathize with you. I know how hard you’ve worked and how badly you wanted to become a partner, but shouldn’t you be talking to your husband? This doesn’t really have anything to do with me.”
“I need your help.”
“But I’m not the one who—”
“I need money.”
“Janine.” He sighed.
“I need twenty thousand to open my own firm. I’ll pay you back. You know I will.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “How does Les feel about you asking me for money?”
Janine looked down at her hands, folded in her lap.
“You haven’t told him, have you?” he guessed.
“Not yet,” she admitted. “We spent our savings on the new house. We wanted a big place for when his kids come to visit and we wanted a pool and a tennis court for entertaining. It was extravagant, but I didn’t know my career was going to fall apart.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he was. Her ambitions had dictated the course of Janine’s life; this failure must be harrowing for her.
She raised her eyes to his. “Please help me. You’re the only person I know who’s got that kind of money.”
Jackson didn’t want any ties to Janine, but he couldn’t say no. “I can’t lend you money unless you tell Les,” he warned.
“We’ve talked about the idea of me opening my own firm, but we couldn’t afford to borrow any more money. Besides, this is my decision and no man tells me what I can and can’t do. You know me well enough to know that.”
Yes, he did. All through their marriage, she’d never wavered on any decision, especially about having children. Secretly he suspected she’d married Les because he already had kids and it wouldn’t be an issue. Janine’s life was her career. He’d learned that the hard way. Looking back, he could see they’d been so wrong for each other. He’d wanted a home and family and she’d wanted security. Ironically she was still fighting for security, as he was for a family. Their lives might not intersect anymore, but he genuinely wished her well.
He opened a drawer, pulled out his checkbook and began to write. “I don’t keep that much money in my checking account, but I’ll make sure the money’s there tomorrow.” He held out the check.
“Thank you, Jackson,” she said as she stood to take it from him. “You won’t regret this.”
“Tell Les. That’s my only condition,” he told her.
“I will,” she agreed. Putting the check in her purse, she noticed the picture of Becca.
“Who’s the pretty young girl?”
Jackson took a breath and couldn’t keep the words from slipping out. “My daughter.”
“What?” Janine drew back in shock.
“She’s my daughter,” he repeated.
“A daughter? When did this happen?”
“She’ll be eighteen in August. I just found out about her.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure she’s yours? I mean…”
“She’s mine, Janine. There’s no question about it.”
“I see,” she said, and lightly touched the picture. “The mother never told you about her?”
“No” was all he said. He didn’t want to discuss Emily or Becca with Janine.
“All the time we were married, you wanted a child. Maybe if we’d known about her our marriage might have worked out differently.”
It wouldn’t have, simply because he didn’t love Janine the way he loved Emily. But he couldn’t hurt her feelings by saying that. He stood. “Maybe, but we’ll never know,” he murmured. “I hope everything goes well with the new practice.”
“Thanks, Jackson,” she said as she made her way to the door. She turned back. “I’m glad you have a daughter.”
“Me, too,” he said. “Goodbye, Janine.” He was glad they could remain cordial.
As soon as she’d left, he picked up the album and photo. He knew someone who needed to see these. His dad.
GEORGE WASN’T IN THE HOUSE, which meant he was out fishing. He always kept iced tea in the refrigerator so Jackson poured two glasses and carried them onto the deck. He saw his father in a boat on the lake. He waved and George waved back. He heard the gunning of the outboard motor and knew he was headed for shore. Jackson went back into the house and brought out a box and set it on the patio table. He’d had Jeff, an employee, make copies of every picture in the album, knowing his dad would want them.
Jackson relaxed in a redwood chair and waited. It wasn’t long before George pulled the boat onto shore and strolled to the house.
“Jack, my boy, what brings you out in the middle of the afternoon?” George called.
“Catch anything?” he asked, avoiding the question.
“Not a damn thing,” George replied as he walked up the steps. He removed his wide-brimmed straw hat and sat down. “It’s May and it’s already hot. Guess the fish are lazy.” He reached for the tea and took several swallows. “Thanks, son.”
“No problem,” Jackson said.
George removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his brow. “If this heat keeps up, we’re gonna have one helluva hot summer.”
“Probably.”
George noticed the box. “What’s in there?”
“Something I thought you might like to have.”
“If it’s more of those books on how to use my computer, I—”
“It’s not about your computer.” He smiled and opened the box. First he pulled out the eight-by-ten he’d had framed. “Thought you might want to see your granddaughter,” he added, placing the picture in front of him.
“Oh, oh, oh.” A pleasurable moan escaped his throat. “Is that her?”
“That’s Becca,” Jackson assured him.
“She’s so pretty and grown-up—and oh, my God.”
“What?” Jackson asked at his startled voice.
“She has the Jackson nose and mouth. I wish Sarah could see this.” Jackson was his mother’s maiden name.
He stood and put an arm around his father’s shoulder. Not wanting this to be a sad time, he pulled the album forward.
“Here she is from the day she was born.”
As George studied each picture, he dabbed at his eyes several times. “Thanks, son. This is the best gift you’ve ever given me.”
“Better than that expensive computer you never use.”
George grinned. “Much better.”
Jackson felt the same way and he was glad Emily had made the kind gesture. It meant she was thinking about him. That gave him hope.
EMILY WAS AT HER WIT’S END with Becca’s rebellion, and she was getting a glimpse of what her mother had gone through. While she couldn’t talk to Becca, she could talk to Rose. The therapy sessions had helped tremendously. In the therapist’s opinion, Rose had actually had a nervous breakdown eighteen years ago, and her guilt over making Emily give her baby up for adoption, plus not wanting her own child had driven her to it. Emily found it so much easier to understand when another person explained it, but at times it was still difficult to accept.
Becca was slowly starting to talk to Rose, which Emily saw as a positive sign. The only person Becca had consistent difficulty with was Emily, but Emily kept waiting for things to change.
One day she was about to knock on Becca’s door, but stopped when she heard her talking, obviously on the phone. As she began to move away, she heard Becca say Jackson. She was tal
king to Jackson and she didn’t sound belligerent; she sounded almost happy. Silently, Emily went back to her room.
How long had they been calling each other? Becca hadn’t said a word, and Jackson—she hadn’t talked to him since he’d left. Every day she’d waited for him to call, to thank her for the photos, but he hadn’t, and she recognized that he was upset…and that he was giving her the time she’d asked for. Still, she wanted to hear his voice. She didn’t call him, though, and she knew that had something to do with his not coming back all those years ago. Was she trying to punish him? The thought shocked her and she fought a wave of panic.
She loved Jackson and even subconsciously she wouldn’t do such a thing. Would she? She needed him and so did Becca—that was very plain from the way she was talking to him. Emily knew she’d been so wrong when she’d insisted on this separation. Becca responded to Jackson much more than she did to her. Becca was angry with her, but she didn’t have that anger toward Jackson.
Oh, God, what had she done? Lying in bed, she could almost hear Jackson’s warm voice washing over her. It had been so long since he’d touched her and she ached for him, ached for everything she’d lost.
All she had to do was pick up the phone, but in truth she knew she wasn’t ready. She had to resolve things with Becca first.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JACKSON SPENT HIS DAYS waiting for evenings, when he could talk to Becca. She had her own phone line, a gift from Emily, and he called every night when he knew she’d be there. At first the conversations were stilted and short. She never told him she didn’t want to talk, though, and gradually their talks became longer.
Then one day the phone rang, and it was Becca. That was a shock, but it didn’t take him long to recover. Becca wanted to let him know that she was planning to move in with her friend Ginger. She was old enough to do what she wanted and she was tired of everyone being on her case, she said. Jackson knew it was a cry for help, and he prayed for the right response.
He told her she was indeed old enough, but with age came responsibility. Was she responsible enough to be out on her own? She was quiet for a long time, then admitted she wasn’t sure. Jackson let out a sigh of relief. What Becca was trying to do here was hurt Emily, and he wanted to make sure that didn’t happen. Yet he had to avoid actually saying those words.