Emily's Daughter. Linda Warren
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 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