Читать книгу Emily's Daughter - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 8

THE AFTERNOON WAS JUST as rushed as the morning, and at six o’clock Emily said goodbye to her last patient and headed into her office. Jean followed.

“That’s it, thank God,” she sighed. “I’ll file the charts and finish up for the day.”

“Okay,” Emily said absently, leafing through some notes on her desk.

Jean made to leave, then turned back. “Did you meet the computer guy?”

Emily blinked. “What?”

“The computer guy,” Jean repeated. “All the women are talking about how fine-looking he is.”

Emily glanced back at her notes, trying to remain detached, trying not to react. “I didn’t notice.”

“What?” Jean shrieked. “You’re hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. If it’s not an old man, you’re not interested.” Realizing how the words sounded, Jean quickly back-pedaled. “That came out wrong. I meant—”

Emily stopped her. “Don’t worry about it. I know what you meant.”

“Thank God.” Jean rolled her eyes. “I’d better go before I get my foot completely stuck in my mouth.” At the door, she couldn’t resist adding, “I just think you need to get out more, have some fun.”

“I appreciate your concern, but most likely the computer guy’s married.”

“Oh, no.” She walked back. “He’s divorced.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “Really? How would you know that?”

Emily was sure Jackson was married and had a family by now. He probably had another daughter…a daughter who—

“I talked to Dr. Benson’s secretary who talked to Dr. Benson’s nurse, who had all the juicy details.”

“The grapevine,” Emily groaned.

“Yeah, it comes in handy sometimes.”

“And sometimes it’s totally inaccurate,” Emily pointed out.

There was a pause, then Jean asked, “Are you interested in him?”

“Heavens, no,” Emily was quick to deny. “I’m just curious.”

“That’s how it starts,” Jean said with a laugh.

Emily ignored that remark. “I’m not on call this weekend, am I?”

“No,” Jean answered. “Why?”

“I’m thinking about visiting my family.”

“Okay.” Jean nodded, and left, returning to the filing area.

Emily went back to her notes, blocking out Jackson Talbert’s face, blocking out the past and everything else—everything but her work. She had to get over to the hospital, to check on Mrs. Williams. She flexed her shoulders and stood up. It had been a long, exhausting day, not to mention humiliating, and now she needed a hot bath and some sleep. She removed her white coat and hung it on a peg.

She massaged the back of her neck, trying to ease the ache starting at the base of her skull.

“Had a hard day?” a familiar voice asked.

She swung around, her eyes huge in her pale face. “Jackson,” she whispered.

He was leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved in the pockets of his gray slacks. He had lost his tie and several buttons on his lighter gray shirt were open, revealing the beginning of dark blond chest hair. Her stomach tightened uncontrollably as she relived the sensation of running her fingers through…

“You remember my name,” he said, and pushed away from the door.

She stared at his face—the lean lines, defined cheekbones, straight nose and green, green eyes. Everything was the same…except for the tiny lines around his eyes and mouth and the gray in his blond hair. Jean was right; he was fine-looking, even more so than she’d recalled. And he was now a man instead of the boy she had given herself to.

Seeing that he was waiting for an answer, she collected herself. “Of course I remember you.”

I’ll never forget you.

“Earlier you acted as if we’d never met, never…”

He let the unfinished sentence hang between them, and to stop the nervousness in her stomach she slowly took the stethoscope from around her neck and placed it on her desk. She chose her next words carefully. “I didn’t think my colleagues would be interested in my girlish infatuation.”

“Infatuation?” He raised a dark blond eyebrow. “Wasn’t it more than that?”

To me, it was.

But the words that came out of her mouth were “No, I don’t think so. You left and never came back and I got on with my life.” She hated that she couldn’t disguise the bitterness in her voice.

He knew she was lying and trying to hide it. He remembered that about her. She had a hard time lying, especially to her mother. He used to tease her about it. But through the nervousness, he could hear the hurt in her voice. He should’ve gone back. He’d never wanted to hurt her, but he’d gotten so caught up in his own turmoil that he could only think about himself. Looking at her, he regretted that.

He couldn’t help asking, “Did you wait for me?”

Every minute, every hour of every day.

“Of course not,” she denied emphatically.

She was lying again. He could tell by the way she ran her hand along the edge of the desk. He was making her nervous. Why? He just wanted to talk.

The terse chitchat was disconcerting her. She felt as if her emotions were in a blender and someone had pushed the high button and any minute she was going to explode all over the room.

“I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly, reaching for her purse. “I’m expected at the hospital.”

Jackson was taken aback by her sudden departure and he was thinking of ways to keep her talking a little longer. He saw a picture on her desk. He walked over and picked it up. It was a family portrait of her parents, herself and another young woman. Her mother had been pregnant all those years ago, and this had to be the baby. Emily had so many problems with her mother’s pregnancy, but judging by their smiling faces everything had obviously worked out.

“This must be your sister,” he said.

“Yes, that’s Rebecca. We call her Becca,” she replied, and swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

Why didn’t he leave? She didn’t want to talk to him.

“She looks like you when you were seventeen.”

“Yes, everyone says that,” she found herself saying. “But her hair is lighter and our personalities are completely different. Becca’s very outspoken and direct. She’s always talking and laughing and getting involved in things that my parents disapprove of. She’s constantly arguing with my mother and—”

She stopped, unable to believe she was telling him all this. For a moment, it seemed like old times when she used to pour her heart out to him.

“Sounds as if she’s a lot like you,” he said, and carefully placed the picture back on her desk.

“In ways I guess we are,” she admitted, knowing that Becca was stronger than she ever hoped to be. Her mother would never be able to force Becca to do anything against her will. Becca was strong-willed and stubborn, and she had her own views on everything. Emily had never been that opinionated or unyielding. She was weak…weak and…

Don’t think about the baby. Don’t think about her now.

“I’ve got to run,” she said in a detached voice. “Is there something you wanted to see me about?”

Again he was thrown by her coolness. She clearly had no interest in talking to him. Had his callous behavior almost two decades ago destroyed any chance of their having a normal conversation?

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I wanted to talk about old times. Maybe take you to dinner.”

A paralyzing fear gripped her, and she fought to maintain her composure, her control. Jackson Talbert wasn’t getting to her again. Talk? Dinner? Absolutely not! She had to escape from him as quickly as possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m too busy, but it was nice seeing you again,” she lied, moving resolutely toward the door.

“Emily?”

Against her will, she halted. It was the way he said her name—soft and persuasive with a deep, husky nuance. It was the same way he always used to say it on the beach, before his lips claimed hers…before he’d kiss her into oblivion…kiss her into forgetting everything but him. How could a voice, a sound, obliterate years of pain, years of hating Jackson Talbert? She didn’t know, but just like that, she felt herself being pulled toward him.

“Aren’t you curious about why I never came back?”

Those words held her spellbound and suddenly she desperately wanted an answer. She turned slowly around.

“Yes, I am,” she said, and she wondered if that low, aching voice was hers.

He smiled and her stomach tied into a painful knot of pure need—something she’d never experienced with any other man. What was she doing? she asked herself. Walk out that door and don’t look back.

Go. Go. Go.

But her feet didn’t move.

Something stronger than herself kept her rooted to the spot. All these years she’d believed that he’d simply used her for a good time, a vacation fling—but maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d had a reason for not returning to her, for not calling. She needed to find out—for her own sanity. She needed to justify what had happened back then. If she could do that, maybe the dreams would stop…. Maybe she could let the memory of her daughter go.

“Good. There’s this little Italian restaurant I go to when I’m in town,” he was saying. “It’s not far from the medical center.” He checked his watch. “We could be there in less than twenty minutes.”

She gripped her purse strap, knowing she was about to take a step that could change so many things. Was she ready? She swallowed. “I really have to go to the hospital first,” she told him. “I can meet you there in two hours.” To her surprise, she made the decision quickly and easily.

“Two hours?” He frowned. “That long?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t rush my patients. I try to be attentive to their needs.”

“The dedicated doctor.” He smiled again.

She didn’t respond.

He reached for a pen and pad from her desk. He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to her. “That’s the address and my cell phone. Just in case you get tied up.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you at the restaurant,” he said, and walked through the door.

She stared at the paper and began to question her decision. She didn’t need two hours at the hospital. Seeing Mrs. Williams wouldn’t take that long. She wanted to go home and shower and change into something more feminine, more… She was having dinner with Jackson Talbert, Emily reminded herself with a sense of panic. The father of her child. She couldn’t help wondering how he’d say her name if she told him that. She shuddered. It was her secret, and after tonight she’d never see Jackson again.

She’d only accepted his invitation because she had to hear his version of the past, his explanation for disappearing from her life. Then she could put Jackson out of her heart forever. As long as she remembered that, she’d be fine.

SHE SPENT LONGER at the hospital than she’d planned, and barely had enough time to shower and change. She went through her closet repeatedly before she decided what to wear. For someone who was seeing Jackson only once and only to hear about the past, she was a little too excited, too eager. She tried to curb those feelings, without success. She felt seventeen again and she knew that tonight was a bad decision, but it was too late to do anything about it. Or was it? She could just not show up and let him get a taste of what it was like to wait for someone who was never coming. Oh, yeah, that would be sweet revenge. She chewed on her lip and had to admit she wasn’t out for revenge. She’d gotten beyond that, thank God. Now she just needed answers…about the past.

She gazed at herself in the mirror. She had on a pale pink vest with turned-up collar and a long maroon skirt that whispered around her ankles. Her dark hair hung loose to her shoulders and her makeup was simple—some mascara and liner, a slick of lip gloss. With her olive complexion she didn’t wear much, but in the evenings a little helped. At least it eased the tiredness in her eyes.

Noticing the clock, she realized she had to hurry. She slipped on a pair of sling-back heels and headed for the door. Traffic was a nightmare, as always, but she made it on time. Jackson was already there and she was shown to his table. The restaurant, which was unfamiliar to her, was small, but had a warm, pleasant atmosphere with its linen tablecloths, candlelight and soft music. Wine bottles and glasses seemed to be everywhere, and green plants adorned the nooks and crannies.

Jackson stood as she reached the table. She saw that he too, had changed. He now had on a dark blue suit and a crisp white shirt that emphasized his lean good looks.

He smiled, taking in her new appearance. For a moment he was speechless. He had known the young, enticing Emily, and today he’d met the professional Emily, but now he was staring at Emily, the woman. Wow was all he could think. She was dressed to perfection; even her makeup was flawless. He remembered she’d rarely worn it back then. With her coloring she didn’t need adornment, but tonight it was perfect, setting off her beautiful face and dark eyes.

Those glorious eyes—he never tired of gazing into them. They used to be tantalizing and bright, but now they held shadows, shadows he knew nothing about. Maybe her life hadn’t been all that rosy. His certainly hadn’t. A lot of things had happened in the intervening years…. But none of them would be discussed tonight. They—

He pulled himself up short. He was reacting as if he and Emily had a future. After tonight they’d probably never see each other again. Somehow he didn’t feel good about that.

He wanted to tell her why he hadn’t come back and she wanted to listen. He was aware that she had ambivalent feelings about him and, if nothing else, he had to set the record straight. She still might not understand, but at least she’d know the truth.

“I ordered wine,” he said. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure,” she answered as the waiter handed her a menu.

She inhaled deeply, trying to gather enough strength to get through this.

Jackson approved the wine, and the waiter poured it into glasses that sparkled in the candlelight. “Are you ready to order, Mr. Talbert?”

Jackson put down his menu. “House salad and linguine for me, Carlo, as always, but the lady might need a moment.”

“No, no,” she said promptly. “I’ll have the green salad—vinaigrette on the side. Roasted garlic chicken breast with pasta—no sauce.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the waiter responded, then took their menus and walked away.

Jackson stared at her. “You eat healthy, don’t you?”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I try.”

He leaned back in his chair. “A doctor, Emily. You made that dream come true. I bet your parents are proud.”

She took a sip of wine. “Yes, my mother loves telling people about her daughter, the doctor.”

“Having met your mother, I can imagine that.”

She tilted the glass to her lips once again. She’d talked endlessly about her mother to Jackson. She’d confided her innermost secrets, her struggle with her mother’s pregnancy, her strict morals and unreasonable discipline. Jackson knew all about her problems with Rose, but he didn’t know the worst part.

“Evidently you didn’t go into your father’s hardware business,” she said, deftly changing the subject.

“No,” he murmured, “I didn’t. That’s what I—”

Before he could tell her anything, their salads arrived and conversation was interrupted.

Sprinkling vinaigrette over hers, Emily asked, “Do you come to Houston often?”

“Maybe once a month. We have a lot of customers here. Our new program cuts down on work, and on the expenditure of time and money. It’s been very successful and it keeps me traveling.”

“Everyone at the office is raving about the program you installed for us.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You haven’t tried it?”

She glanced up. “No, but I will. I just hate taking time away from my patients to learn technical things.”

He leaned toward her, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It’ll make your life so much easier. Simply by hitting a key, you can pull up a patient’s history, his drug chart, his last visit, your recommendations and diagnoses. Then you speak into a headphone to update any chart. The computer will recognize your voice. This will save tremendously on paperwork. The hardest part is getting all the information into the computer and keeping it current, but I’m sure you have people to do that.”

She was mesmerized by the glow in his eyes, which clearly revealed how much he loved his work.

The waiter removed their salads and their food was brought out.

They ate in silence for a while, then Jackson asked, “How’s your chicken?”

“Fine,” she replied, swallowing a bite. The food was delicious and she was hungry. Having skipped lunch, she was very conscious of that.

“Next time you should try the linguine. It’s the best I’ve ever eaten,” he said.

Next time. There would be no next time. At least not with Jackson.

He asked if she wanted dessert and she refused, but asked for another glass of wine. She felt she needed it.

Jackson twisted his wineglass, watching her, and his thoughts drifted. He was seeing Emily on the beach with nothing but the moonlight on her soft, smooth skin. So many things about her surfaced—things he’d thought he’d forgotten. Her uninhibited smile, her sharp intelligence and the incredible beauty she was so unaware of.

His gaze heated her senses and she rushed into speech. “You were going to tell me why you didn’t come back.”

Engrossed in his memories, he was startled for a second. He took a deep breath and tried to find the words. “When I left Rockport that winter, I was unsure about my life,” he began slowly. “My parents were pressuring me to come into the hardware business, while I wanted to go out on my own and start a computer company. I had a friend who was interested in the same thing.”

“You told me that years ago,” she reminded him.

His eyes caught hers. “Yes, I told you a lot of things about myself.”

She looked away and carefully placed her napkin on the table. “We both did that.”

“Two kids eager to become adults,” he sighed.

“You were an adult,” she said. “I was the kid.”

“I guess you were,” he admitted, feeling guilty because he’d taken advantage of her young spirit. “But you were so delightful, so—”

She cut in. “Why didn’t you go into your father’s hardware business?”

He studied her for a moment, then answered, “The decision was made for me.”

Her eyes didn’t waver. “By whom?”

“My parents.”

She lifted a dark eyebrow.

This was the hard part. “My father took me on that fishing trip as a way to prepare me for what was to come,” he said. “The day after we got back to Dallas, my parents said they wanted to talk to me. I assumed it was about the business, but…” He stopped and swallowed before continuing, “My mother told me she was dying of pancreatic cancer. My father was supposed to tell me on the trip, but he couldn’t. They gave her three months to live. I couldn’t believe it. I was stunned—in shock. My mom was always so active, so full of energy. It wasn’t fair, and I hit back at everything and everyone in sight. But not at her. I didn’t want her to see my pain. I intended to be there for her. She was very brave right up until the end. She died January 30.”

“I’m so sorry,” she immediately offered, feeling the pain that was obviously still with him. Then something clicked in her mind. January 30? That was the day she’d found out she was pregnant. She remembered it vividly. She’d borrowed her mother’s car and driven into Corpus Christi to buy a pregnancy test. She went to Corpus Christi because she didn’t want anyone she knew to see her buying such a personal item. It would’ve been all over Rockport in minutes. She hurried home to take the test. Even though she’d suspected what the result would be, she was in shock. At the same time, Jackson was dealing with another kind of trauma.

“After that, I was restless. I couldn’t concentrate on anything,” Jackson was saying. “My aunt was spending a lot of time with my father, and I told him I had to go. There were too many reminders in the house, at the store. He said he understood, and I hit the road trying to outrun the pain.”

That was why he wasn’t at the hardware store when she’d called. He was trying to deal with his mother’s death. It wasn’t what she’d believed at all.

Why didn’t you come to Rockport?

As if reading her mind, he went on. “I thought about coming to Rockport, but I knew your mother would eat me alive. She didn’t like me much.” He paused for a second. “That wasn’t the real reason, though. I was a mess. All I could think about was my life, my grief, and I couldn’t drag you down with me. You were young, finishing high school, getting ready for college. You didn’t need an albatross around your neck.”

Oh, God, if he only knew.

“I traveled around for a while, then headed to San Antonio to see my friend.” His words froze her thoughts.

Had he been in San Antonio when their daughter was born? Had he been there when she’d given their daughter away?

She licked dry lips. “When did you go to San Antonio?” she asked in a tight voice.

He frowned. “I went that spring and I stayed for about a year and a half and— Emily, are you all right? You look pale.”

“I…ah…” She couldn’t answer as she tried to grapple with this twist of fate. He’d been there when their daughter was born. So close, yet so out of reach. “It’s just hot in here,” she lied. It was the only excuse she could invent for her strange behavior.

“Would you like some water?”

“Please.”

He called the waiter and a glass of ice water was placed in front of her. She held it with both hands, letting the coolness soothe her shaky nerves.

“Better?” he asked as she took several swallows.

“Yes, thanks,” she said. “You were saying?”

“Oh.” He tried to remember what he was talking about. “My friend, Clay, and I started the computer company in San Antonio. It was slow that first year, then it took off like a rocket. Later, we moved the business to Dallas and it’s still doing very well, although Clay’s not with me anymore. He fell in love with a school teacher from Alaska, sold his share to his brother and moved up there.”

After a strained silence, he said, “I promised to call and come back, but do you understand why I didn’t?”

No, I never will, she immediately thought. But he’d had his reasons. He’d loved his mother and he’d coped with her death in the only way he could. He didn’t know about Emily and the baby. He’d no cause to think that she might be pregnant; after all, they’d been so careful. Sadly, his love for her hadn’t been enough to bring him back, and she was the one who’d had to suffer.

Her fingers played with the linen napkin. “I used to rush home from school to wait for your phone call,” she admitted in a near whisper.

“Emily, I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” he said, his voice deep with emotion. “That first night I was home, I couldn’t sleep because I kept remembering our nights on the beach. Later, after the pain and fog had cleared from my mind, I wondered if you were seeing someone else. If you’d forgotten me.”

No, Jackson, I never forgot you. You left a reminder that stayed with me and will stay with me forever.

Her eyes challenged his. “But you forgot me rather easily, didn’t you?”

He looked embarrassed, and she was glad he wasn’t going to lie about it. “Yes, I guess I did. With my mom’s illness and the computer company, I didn’t have time for much else. I’m not proud of that. We made a lot of promises under the stars and I should’ve called and let you know what was happening. I regret my lack of concern for your feelings, but I couldn’t talk about my mom’s death to anyone—not for a long while.” He stopped for a second. “I’m sorry sounds too contrived for my actions, and my only excuse is that I was totally unprepared to deal with the death of someone I loved.” He stopped again. “When I saw you today, I realized I hadn’t forgotten a thing about you. I remember all the little details and—”

She broke in. “Please, Jackson, let’s not dredge it all up.”

He swallowed some wine, his eyes never leaving her face. “Okay, but I want you to know that time meant a lot to me.”

But not enough to bring you back.

She clasped her hands in her lap, thinking maybe that was all she needed to hear…now. Back then, she’d needed a whole lot more. But it really didn’t matter any longer. “What happened to your father?” she asked, trying to get out of dangerous waters.

Her shift in conversation didn’t escape him, but he let it go. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to talk about the past. “My father sold the business and retired. He bought a cabin on a lake and spends his days fishing and playing dominoes with his buddies. He still misses my mom, but he’s a survivor.”

“He never remarried?”

“Nope, he’s more interested in catching that big fish than catching a woman.”

“I’m sorry about your mother,” she said again.

“Me, too, Emily,” he responded readily. “And I’m sorry I let my grief overshadow everything in my life—even my word to you.”

She bit her lip; they were moving onto dangerous ground again. “Did you get married?” she asked abruptly, then wished she could take the words back.

“Yeah, a few years later I decided to settle down. My wife, Janine, was a…”

His voice trailed off as he saw the look on her face, and he quickly added, “I’m not married anymore. I’m divorced.”

“Oh,” she murmured weakly. It wasn’t the fact that he’d been married that startled her. She already knew that. But when he’d said my wife, an odd feeling came over her. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized she’d always seen herself in that position. Which was crazy, completely crazy.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” he told her. “It was one of those marriages that should never have happened, and it didn’t take us long to figure out we were wrong for each other. I wanted kids and a family. She didn’t.”

“Why not?” slipped out before she could stop it.

“She’s a lawyer and works for a big law firm in Dallas. Her total focus was on advancing her career. I understood that. My career was important, too, and we both put in staggering hours. After about two years, I asked her to take some time off and have a baby. She refused, saying she wasn’t ready.” He paused for a sip of wine. “She has two sisters who’d given up careers to raise their children. She said she wasn’t doing that. After four years, I realized she wasn’t going to change her mind, and by that time we’d grown so far apart that the marriage was basically nonexistent. We both wanted different things from life and we mutually decided to call it quits.”

“You wanted children?” she asked quietly.

“Sure” was his quick response. “I was an only child and I planned to have at least two kids, the big house, a dog—the whole nine yards. I just forgot to mention those things to Janine.”

He wanted kids. She didn’t know why she was having a hard time grasping that. Maybe her guilt was spiraling out of control.

“I guess I was looking for what my parents had—a home filled with love and laughter.” He drank more wine. “But I don’t see that in my future now. I’ll soon be forty and I’ve resigned myself to being a fatherless bachelor.”

You’re not. You have a daughter.

The words burned in her throat and she ached to tell him. But what good would it do? Their daughter would be eighteen in August—a grown woman with a life of her own, which didn’t include them.

He interrupted her disturbing thoughts. “How come you never married, Emily?”

“How do you know I’m not?”

He grinned. “I asked someone.”

So did I. So did I.

“Well?” he persisted.

She shrugged. “I was busy with medical school, then establishing a practice. I guess I never had time to develop a lasting relationship.”

“But there were men?” He couldn’t prevent the question.

Her eyes met his. “Yes, but no one ever overshadowed my career.”

Or you.

He raised an eyebrow. “So that’s what a man has to compete with?”

Emily suddenly noticed that the restaurant was almost empty and it was getting late. She could feel herself yearning to tell him about their daughter—but she couldn’t. She had to get away from him. “I really have to go. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet; he laid a credit card on the table. The waiter immediately took it and disappeared. Within minutes he was back, and Jackson and Emily got to their feet. They left the restaurant in silence, stepping out into a pleasant May evening. The night sky was clear and bright, and the traffic made a loud humming sound, but Emily was hardly aware of her surroundings as she walked to her car. Jackson followed.

She opened her car door and turned to face him. She didn’t know what to say. So many conflicting feelings surged through her.

“I enjoyed seeing you again,” he said.

“Me, too,” she replied, and meant it. Certain questions had been answered, certain issues resolved—and yet she recognized that the past would always be with her. There would be no absolution. After hearing Jackson talk about kids, that was clearer than ever.

“I’d like to see you again.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Why not?”

“Because we can’t recapture our youth…”

Her words trailed away as he stepped close to her—so close she could smell his aftershave and feel the heat from his body. He cupped her face in his hands, and her heart pounded in her chest in anticipation of what she knew was coming.

His lips gently touched hers, then covered them with a fierce possessiveness she remembered despite all the years that had passed. He didn’t touch her anywhere else. He didn’t need to. Her lips moved under his and she kissed him back. She couldn’t help it.

“I don’t think we have to recapture anything,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s there. It’s always been there. Ever since I first saw you in your mother’s kitchen.”

He was right. The feelings were still alive. Oh, God, they were. Her body was on fire and she hadn’t felt this way since…since those winter nights on the beach. But she couldn’t give in to this. She wouldn’t.

“Jackson—”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“No, I—”

“Yes,” he asserted, and she got into the car without another word. Just before he slammed her door, he said, “Tomorrow, Emily.”

EMILY DIDN’T REMEMBER much of the drive home. She kept hearing Jackson’s words. “Tomorrow, Emily.” Over and over they echoed through her head, her heart, and she realized she’d crossed a dangerous line between the past and the future.

Now she was older and much wiser, and the words shouldn’t affect her so intensely, but they did. Had she learned nothing? Yes, Jackson’s explanation for not coming back was a good one, but still… If he’d loved her as much as she’d loved him, nothing would have kept him away. Instead he’d managed to resume his life without her and she had dealt with hers as best she could.

She’d made bad decisions, and nothing she did now would change that. She sensed that seeing Jackson again was another bad choice. It was probably best to leave the past where it was—in the past. She couldn’t handle anything else.

As she climbed into bed, she decided there would be no tomorrow for her and Jackson. She’d call him and make an excuse. Having settled that, she felt better. Surprisingly she fell asleep easily.

Except that she had a different dream.

And Jackson was in it.

She didn’t wake up crying or trembling. She was actually smiling, and that shook her. She tried to understand this new dream. She and Jackson were on the beach and they were holding a little girl. Their daughter. Emily kept saying “I’m so glad I told you,” and he kept saying “Thank you.”

She pulled her knees up to her chin, trying to still the joy inside her. She didn’t have to look far to grasp the meaning of her dream. She wanted to tell Jackson about their daughter.

She closed her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts. The dream was also about guilt—her guilt. It was consuming her, and it had become more voracious since yesterday. Since his return. Her subconscious had clarified what she had to do and why. She would tell him. He deserved that much; he believed their time together was innocent and beautiful, but it was marred with so many ugly things.

She would tell Jackson about their baby…and the adoption. She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but he had a right to know. Beyond that she didn’t want to think. But she had to.

Whatever the consequences, she’d pursue this unaccustomed urge, this need to tell him the truth. Maybe it was the love in his voice when he talked about having kids. Maybe that had triggered her dream. Or it could just be plain old selfishness. She wanted to tell him because she had a desire to share her precious baby with someone. She’d never done that. She’d never spoken of her daughter or the adoption and the grief she’d experienced, and she desperately needed to. She wanted to talk about all of this with her baby’s father…Jackson.

She curled up in bed. If she told him, there would be disbelief in his eyes, along with hatred and anger and disgust. She would see herself through his eyes. Could she endure that?

Grabbing a pillow, she held it tight. “Yes,” she said into the darkness. Right or wrong, she would tell Jackson about their daughter.