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.
Конец
