Emily's Daughter
Authors: Linda Warren
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]
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.
P
LEASE
. S
TOP
. P
LEASE
.
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.
T
HE 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 explaining.
She’d overslept because she’d had a restless night. Why did she have the dream? She hadn’t had it in so long. Why
now?
she wondered again. There was nothing different in her life—hospital rounds, seeing patients, consultations with other doctors. And of course her personal life was nonexistent since she’d broken up with Glen. Was that it? she asked herself as she stepped onto the elevator. Was she subconsciously mourning the fact that she’d never have another child? At thirty-five her conscience should have gotten use to that.
Glen was also a doctor and they’d dated for more than a year. Everything was fine until he started pressuring her to get married. The more he pressured, the more she resisted. Glen was divorced and had two children. At first, she told herself that was the reason—she wasn’t prepared for a ready-made family. But she’d finally had to admit
that she didn’t love Glen. If she did, she would have told him her secret, but she’d never even come close to sharing that with him.
She enjoyed being with Glen, but she didn’t have those blinding, passionate feelings she’d had for— No. She refused to think about him. Not today…not ever.
Before she could make it to her office, Harold, the office manager, stopped her. “Dr. Cooper, do you have a minute?”
Emily took a quick breath and turned to face him. She shifted the folders she’d taken home to her other arm. “I really don’t. I’m running late,” she told him.
Harold checked at his watch. “By God, you
are
late,” his said, his blue eyes enormous behind his thick glasses. “You’re never late. Is something wrong?”
“No.” She looked down at the bundle of case files she held. “Just too much reading and not enough sleep.”
And too many painful memories.
Harold shook his head. “You’re the most dedicated doctor I’ve ever met. Your patients are lucky to have you. Your forgotten ones—that’s what you call them.”
Yes, she did. Children, no matter what age, had a hard time dealing with their parents when illness struck. They had lives and usually the old people were relegated to a nursing home where they were completely forgotten. It was a sad reality, but one she saw all the time.
“When I get old, you’re going to be my doctor,” Harold smiled.
Harold was in his mid forties and she could have told him she had patients his age with Alzheimer’s, but she didn’t want to frighten him.
“Thanks, Harold. Now I’ve got to go,” she said, and started to leave.
“Oh, Dr. Cooper,” Harold called after her. “I just wanted to remind you about the eleven o’clock meeting.”
She stopped. “Meeting?”
“Yeah, about the new computer system we’re installing. Didn’t you get the memo?”
Frowning, she said, “Maybe. I’m not sure—I’ve had so many memos this week. I’m sure Jean or Sharon will take care of whatever needs taking care of.”
“No, no” was Harold’s quick answer. “The staff and nurses have already had their instructions. This is for the doctors. The head of the computer company is flying in as a favor to Dr. Benson. He’s speaking with the doctors personally. It’s an amazing system and it’ll make life so much easier.”
“My schedule’s already backed up and—”
“You have to be there,” he interrupted. “Dr. Benson expects
everyone
to be there. Half an hour or so—that’s all it’ll take.”
Dr. Benson was head of the group and he’d been talking for a while about a new system. She didn’t have time, but she should probably learn something about it. She hated the business part of her job. She only wanted to treat patients, but she had to admit that improved computer skills would benefit her
and
them.
“Okay, Harold,” she said in a resigned voice. “I’ll be there.”
She went in through her private entrance and laid her papers on her desk, then shrugged on her white coat and walked into her bathroom to check her appearance. She hadn’t had time to do anything about her hair so she’d pulled it back and clipped it behind her head. It made her look older, more mature, and that was fine. Her face was blotchy, though, from lack of sleep and too many tears. Her patients wouldn’t notice, she was sure.
“Dr. Cooper?” her nurse called from the doorway.
“Yes, Jean,” Emily answered, coming out of the bathroom.
“Thank God.” Jean let out a sigh of relief. “I was getting worried.”
“I’m here now, so let’s get started,” Emily said. “I suppose we have a full morning.”
“Sure do. All the exam rooms are occupied.” She smiled brightly. Jean was a lovely young woman in her late twenties with a calm, sunny disposition that was invaluable to Emily’s patients.
Emily took the folder Jean was handing her. “Do you know anything about this new computer system?”
“Yes, we’ve had classes for two days now.” At Emily’s puzzled expression, she asked, “You didn’t read your memo, did you?”
“No.” Emily glanced at her desk. “I remember Sharon giving it to me, but I must have put it somewhere.”
Jean raised her eyes toward the ceiling. “You’re hopeless when it comes to interoffice communication. The memo was all about the system, the computer company—all sorts of information.”
“Well, I’ll learn about it later. Right now I have patients to see.” She walked to the first exam room. “Remind me that I have a meeting at eleven.”
Emily was busy for the rest of the morning, and even though she tried to make up time, it was a lost cause. Her patients didn’t like to be rushed and they liked lots of attention. When she finished with her last appointment for the morning, she realized that it was almost noon. Oh, no!
“Jean, you were supposed to remind me about the meeting,” she said, hurrying into the corridor. She might be able to catch the end, the question-and-answer part.
“I’m sorry.” Jean’s apologetic voice followed her.
She quickly made her way to the conference room. Opening the door, she stepped inside, but it was too late. The meeting was over. Doctors were standing around talking.
Harold immediately approached her, and he didn’t hide his grin. “Forgot, huh?”
“I’m sorry, Harold, the morning got away from me.”
“Well, at least you can still meet the head of the company. He can answer any questions you might have.”
Questions? How could she have questions about something she’d never even seen?
He took her arm and led her to a group of men. “Mr. Talbert, I’d like you to meet our geriatrics specialist, Dr. Emily Cooper.”
A tall man in a dark business suit turned around—and Emily’s world came to a complete stop. Jackson Scott Talbert. She’d know him anywhere. He hadn’t changed all that much from…God, how long had it been? Eighteen years and five months. Funny how she remembered that exactly. And he looked the same, just older. Same lean build and honed masculine features. Same dark blond hair that curled slightly, although now there were streaks of gray. Same deep green eyes that haunted her dreams. All these things registered as Emily shook his hand.
His clasp was warm and strong, another thing she remembered about him. Her pulse quickened and she had trouble breathing, but she heard herself talking. She had no idea what she was saying. All she knew was that she had to get out of the room and fast.
Within seconds she was in the hallway, almost running to her office. Why hadn’t she read the memo? she chastised herself. Then she would’ve known. She would have been prepared. She rushed into her bathroom, closed the door and leaned heavily against it. Pushing away from the door,
she sat on the toilet and buried her face in her hands. Why now? Why did Jackson have to come back into her life now? Especially after last night. The dream was still vivid in her mind. Did her daughter—no, she corrected herself,
their
daughter—have those deep green eyes? She’d never know and neither would Jackson because she would never tell him about their daughter.
She stood up and glanced in the mirror. She looked like hell. She smoothed a hand over her dark hair and tightened the clip at the back of her head. Opening a drawer, she took out some makeup. She powdered her face and applied lipstick, but it didn’t help; she still looked hollow-eyed and tired. Jackson probably hadn’t even recognized her, she thought grimly. Very little of the happy, laughing teenager he had known was left.
She hadn’t lost her composure like this in years. Seeing him, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, was a shock, and it had blown her professional persona completely to shreds. Jackson must think she was some babbling idiot, and Dr. Benson would demand an explanation of her rude behavior.
What if her colleagues knew the truth? What if they knew her secret? Would they look at her differently? Of course not, she told herself. They were professionals like herself and they would understand. During their years in the medical profession, they’d frequently seen teenage pregnancies. Everyone made mistakes; adoption was a legitimate way out. It gave the mother a second chance and it gave the baby a loving family. But things weren’t always that simple, especially for the birth mother. No matter what age, giving away a child wasn’t easy. She knew that first-hand. After all these years, she still couldn’t justify her actions. Guilt was always with her. Looking back, she knew adoption had been the wrong choice for her. Right for many other girls, but wrong for her. So many times
she wished she’d stood up to her mother because now she knew that her parents would have eventually come around. Even though they abhorred the idea of her having a baby out of wedlock, they would’ve supported her. She could have managed to get her education and still keep her baby. If only… Hindsight was twenty-twenty, as people always said, and it didn’t help the way she felt about herself. She had given away the most precious part of herself—her child—and nothing would ever make that right.
She’d blamed her mother for years and their relationship was still strained. But in her heart she knew it was her own fault. She’d gone along with everything her mother had planned for her future—and that future did not include a baby.
It was so long ago, yet it seemed like yesterday. She grew up as an only child in Rockport, Texas. She was pampered and protected, and she was happy. In school, she was at the head of her class. The kids called her brainy, but it didn’t bother her because she recognized that their teasing was affectionate. She was friends with everyone. Then, in her senior year, Emily’s life started to fall apart.
At forty, her mother discovered she was pregnant. It was a shock to everyone—especially Emily. She was so naive that she’d never thought about her parents having sex; she couldn’t even imagine them doing such a thing. They were too old, she kept telling herself. Inevitably, the kids started to tease her about her sexy parents and it became an embarrassment. For seventeen years, she’d been a model daughter, but the new baby changed her whole attitude. She grew rebellious, staying out late and arguing with her parents.
Then Jackson Talbert came into her life. Her father was a fishing guide in Rockport, a small town on the Gulf coast. Jackson and his father had come down for two
weeks of fishing after Thanksgiving. Her parents had cottages they rented to tourists during the peak months. During the winter season, if a person wanted a fishing trip and also asked for accommodations, her father always rented the back room. The cottages were closed until March, so it was easier for her mother to have everyone in the house.
When Emily had first seen Jackson, she thought he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen, with his blond hair, green eyes and charming smile. He was tall, with a trim, athletic body. She was sure he’d played football, and later he told her that he had in high school. Football players usually ignored Emily. She wasn’t the cheerleading, pompom-shaking type, so she couldn’t help feeling excited when Jackson took an interest in her. He was older and much more mature than the boys she dated. He seemed a balm to the misery she was experiencing over the new baby.