Emily's Daughter

“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 squarely. “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.

She tried to keep her mind a blank but couldn’t. She kept seeing Jackson’s face and hearing his cruel words. Would he ever understand? She doubted it, because she had a hard enough time understanding it. Until she found some sort of forgiveness in herself, she couldn’t expect Jackson to calmly accept her actions.

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