“Where…where is the baby?”
Emily knotted her fingers together until they were bloodless. This was the difficult part. Now she had to tell Jackson what she’d done.
“I was so scared,” she began in a trembling voice. “I tried and tried to reach you. Then my mother found out I was pregnant 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.”
“We had a daughter?” he said in a hoarse voice.
“Yes, but I never saw her. I only heard her crying. I asked to hold her but they wouldn’t let me.”
He got to his feet, his body rigid. “You gave our daughter to strangers? How could you do something like that?”
“I was seventeen, alone and scared!”
“You just wanted to get rid of it as fast as possible so you could get on with your life, your big career.”
Emily rose to her feet, her eyes huge 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 and have that child taken from you before you could even see her face. So don’t stand there and act holier than thou—because you are not blameless.”
Dear Reader,
I’m sure you noticed the wedding gown on the cover. Isn’t it spectacular? It’s the winning design in Harlequin’s 21st Century Wedding Gown Contest, which was open to young designers this past year. Over 400 entries were received and 28 finalists chosen. But it was this French-couture-influenced design by Sophie Sung of New York that won the judges over with its textured roses and fabulously feathered layered veil. I’m excited to have my heroine wear it in Emily’s Daughter. And by the way, the Harlequin wedding gown will be available for home sewers through The Simplicity Pattern Company Holiday catalogue.
Emily’s Daughter takes place on the Texas Gulf Coast. My husband and I go there at least a couple of times a year. He fishes and I write. We stay in Rockport, Texas. It’s a small commercial and sport fishing town separating Aransas and Copano Bays. We love the friendly people and tranquil landscape and the hometown atmosphere. On one of our visits I was trying to think of new story ideas. We met a mother and daughter who rented rooms to tourists. They looked like sisters. We only talked for a little while, but that conversation stayed with me and I knew what my next book was going to be about—a mother and a daughter. Then I had to come up with a situation that would make the story interesting. Eventually Emily’s Daughter took shape and now you’ll read all about Emily and her long-ago lover and their quest to find their daughter.
Hope you enjoy it.
Linda Warren
P.S. I love hearing from readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or e-mail me at [email protected]
Emily’s Daughter
Linda Warren
To Paula Eykelhof, my editor, for her faith in my writing and in me. Thanks, Paula. It means more than you’ll ever know.
A special thanks to the friendly people in Rockport who answered all my questions with such patience and enthusiasm. The characters in Emily’s Daughter are fictional and any errors you find are mine.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
PLEASE. STOP. PLEASE.
The little girl paid no attention to Emily Cooper’s plea. As she ran away, long dark hair blew behind her and a white cotton dress whipped around her legs. Her bare feet made imprints in the sand along the deserted beach.
Emily’s lungs were tight and she could barely breathe. She had to keep going, though. She had to catch her. Her sanity depended on it.
Please stop.
Just when Emily thought her lungs would burst, the little girl stopped and slowly turned toward her.
Yes, yes, yes, now I’ll see her face.
Emily caught her breath and waited, but before the little girl could make the complete turn, Emily woke up. She was bathed in sweat and breathing heavily.
“No, no, no,” she cried. “Not again.” Why couldn’t she see her face? Just once…that was all she wanted.
The darkness didn’t have an answer, and she slipped out of bed and walked into the bathroom. She switched on the light, then filled a glass with water. Taking a couple of gulps, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her dark brown hair hung in disarray around her shoulders and her eyes were groggy.
“You’ll never see her face,” she told the woman in the mirror. “You don’t deserve to. You gave her away the day she was born.”
She took another drink of water and went back to bed. Curling into a fetal position, she cried herself to sleep. Something she hadn’t done in a very long time.
THE NEXT MORNING Emily drove into the doctors’ parking area and glanced at her watch. Ten past nine. Damn. Her first appointment was at nine, which meant she was already late. As a geriatrics specialist, she was very conscious of her patients needs. Some of them were in a fragile mental state and could tolerate no disruption in routine, no unexpected upset.
She grabbed her purse and reading material and got out, slamming the door of her Lexus. She hurried into the building and toward the elevators. She’d worked with a group of doctors at this busy medical center in Houston for the past four years, and she prided herself on her punctuality—not only for herself, but for her patients. Now she’d have to do some juggling and
