Emily's Daughter

by Linda Warren

  The words at the top of the page were definite and shocking. Death certificate, it read. Rebecca Ann Cooper. Date of death—July 19. As Emily stared at the words, a lump grew in her throat and things started to spin out of control. No, she had to hold on. She had to figure this out. There had to be a logical explanation.

  “No, no, no,” she cried, shaking her head wildly. “Becca’s not dead. She’s not dead. Jackson…” She buried her face in her hands as sobs started to rack her body.

  Jackson’s heart tightened in such pain that he couldn’t breathe for a moment. He moved to her side and folded an arm around her, knowing she wasn’t allowing herself to focus on the reality behind the death certificate. “Think about this rationally,” he coaxed in a soothing voice. “Our daughter has the same name as your sister and—”

  “No!” She jumped up and held her hands over her ears. “Don’t say it! I don’t want to hear it.”

  She was shaking visibly and couldn’t seem to stop. Jackson had opened a wound deep in her soul and the trauma was so great that nothing registered but the pain. Nothing…and she wouldn’t let anything penetrate because what he suggested was too horrible to face.

  Jackson took her in his arms and rocked her gently. She held on tight, needing the security of his embrace, the security of something real—something she could feel and understand.

  “We have to talk to your parents,” he whispered against her hair. “They’re the only ones who know what really happened.”

  The words seeped into her tired mind. Yes, her parents. They would explain the birth certificates. There had to be an explanation.

  She whirled out of his arms and started for the door, then suddenly stopped and grabbed the phone. Jackson didn’t try to stop her. She was on the verge of hysteria; she had to do something and he had to let her. She punched out a number and within seconds she was talking to her father.

  “Dad, meet me at the hospital.”

  Pause.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk to you.”

  Her eyes swung to Jackson. “He’ll meet us there, and then they’ll tell us what these weird documents are all about.”

  He stepped close to her and cupped her face in his hands. “Emily, love, please try to—”

  “No.” She pulled away. “Don’t say the words. They’re not true and I don’t believe them. My parents will explain. Let’s go.” She wheeled toward the door before he had a chance to take a breath, and he knew how this day would go—hard and debilitating—but he intended to be there for her every step of the way…no matter what.

  On the ride to the hospital, they didn’t speak. There was nothing to say until she’d talked to Rose and Owen. She clutched the certificates in her lap, glancing at them repeatedly, but she refused to think about them. She couldn’t. If she did, her whole life would explode into a million scattered bits.

  The wind grew stronger as they walked from the parking area to the hospital, but Emily hardly noticed. When they emerged from the elevators, her father was waiting for them. Without a word, she handed him the certificates. His shoulders slumped and a desolate look came over his face.

  “You have to talk to your mother,” he said brokenly.

  No denials. No explanations. Just a sentence that told her so much, and suddenly the lock on her mind lifted and pieces started to filter through and she had a desperate need to see her mother.

  She took the papers and ran down the hall to her room. Jackson and Owen were right behind her.

  Before she opened the door, Owen said, “Remember she’s not well. Try not to upset her.”

  Emily sucked air into a chest that felt sore; she knew what she had to do. She gave the papers to her father again. “Let’s make this as easy as we can. I just want to hear the truth. I have to know the truth.”

  Owen nodded and they entered the room. The lights were on and Rose was awake, sitting up in bed. She frowned at them. “Emily Ann, why are you all dressed up?” Her frown deepened as she stared at Jackson. “What’s he doing here?”

  “It’s time, Rose,” Owen said quietly.

  “Time? For what?” she asked, clasping her hands, twisting them together.

  Owen laid the papers in front of her. “They know, but they want to hear it from you.”

  Rose glanced at the papers, and with one hand she shoved them and they fluttered onto the floor. “No,” she muttered, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  Emily picked up the papers and walked close to her mother’s bedside. She exhaled a trembling breath. “Why is Becca’s name on my daughter’s birth certificate?”

  A strangled cry left Rose’s lips and she stared down at her clenched hands. “I told you not to do this, Emily Ann, but you wouldn’t listen. You never listen to me.”

  “Why, Mom?” Emily persisted. Not until she heard her mother speak the truth would it be real to her.

  “Owen,” Rose appealed to him.

  “You have to tell her,” he said in his quiet voice. “She has to hear it from you.”

  But Rose remained quiet, and tears started to roll down her cheeks onto her hands. Emily’s heart constricted, but she immediately hardened herself. She couldn’t give in to these emotions. She had to insist on the truth. Clearly Rose was struggling for words and Emily decided to help her.

  “My sister was born June 5 and died July 19.”

  “She was so tiny,” Rose choked out. “I gained all that weight, but she barely weighted four pounds. Her lungs weren’t fully developed and her heart had a murmur. Every breath she took was agonizing, but she kept holding on, and as each day passed, we prayed she’d make it, but…” Her voice wavered on the last word and she had to stop.

  Emily reached for Jackson’s hand. She needed his support or she wouldn’t be able to get through this.

  “She was born with dark eyes and hair.” Rose started talking again. “Just like you and Rebecca. My three girls, all alike… Your baby pictures all look the same.”

  Rose was rambling and Emily didn’t know how to stop her. She didn’t even know if she wanted to—or if she could endure the truth.

  “But Rebecca was different, wasn’t she, Mrs. Cooper?” Jackson asked, unable to keep quiet.

  Rose’s eyes narrowed on him. “Rebecca’s always been different.”

  “And you hated that, because you couldn’t control or manipulate her like Emily.”

  “Yes, I had a hard time raising Rebecca.”

  “Because she was very different from you and Owen,” Jackson kept on, knowing that eventually she would tell them what she’d done.

  Rose’s eyes didn’t leave Jackson’s face. “My Emily Ann was perfect, never gave me a minute’s trouble until you came along. You ruined her life then, and now you’re doing it again. To satisfy your male ego, you’re willing to sacrifice my daughter’s happiness. If you have any feelings at all for Emily Ann, you’ll walk out that door and leave my family in peace.”

  Jackson recognized what she was doing. She was struggling desperately to keep the secret from coming out, but it was too late. “I can’t do that,” he said sternly. “I’m fighting to find my daughter.”

  “Ha!” Rose laughed cruelly. “I think you’ve left it a little late. Where were you when Emily Ann was pregnant? You weren’t too interested in your daughter then.”

  “I was by my mother’s bedside waiting for her to die.”

  Rose’s face fell and she looked pleadingly at Owen. “Make him leave. He’ll destroy our family.”

  “It’s over, Rose,” Owen said. “And our family’s been torn apart for years. Talk to Emily Ann. She’s entitled to that.”

  “Owen,” Rose cried, but this time it didn’t work. Owen was standing his ground.

  Emily’s hand tightened in Jackson’s and she dredged up the courage to say, “Tell me the truth.”

  Rose looked down at her own trembling hands. “Truth is a funny thing. Sometimes it hurts and…”

  “Tell me!” Emily shouted, losing
control of what sanity she had left.

  Rose clamped her lips together, and Jackson hated the woman for what she was doing. Surely she had compassion in that heart of hers…somewhere.

  “You’re hurting me, Mom,” Emily said quietly. “By remaining silent, you’re making it worse. Why can’t you just tell me?”

  A sob escaped Rose, and she clutched Owen’s arm. “I…I…”

  Emily knew she had to say the words because her mother wouldn’t or couldn’t. She exhaled a shuddering breath. “Is Becca my daughter?” she asked in a voice that sounded as if it belonged to someone else.

  Jackson held his breath. He needed to hear the answer as badly as Emily did. For the past two days he had grappled with the truth, always telling himself that it was too bizarre to be real and that Emily’s mother wouldn’t do such a thing. But now he and Emily had to deal with whatever Rose said. They had to find a way to absorb the truth and adjust their lives accordingly.

  “Y-yes…yes, Becca is your daughter.” The words came out low and gruff, and Rose began to sob openly.

  The words whirled around in Emily’s head. Round and round, faster and faster, until the world, her very breath, hung on those words. Becca is your daughter. Emily’s knees buckled under the force and Jackson grabbed her to prevent her from crumpling to the floor. The room kept spinning, as did the feeling in her head. Her mother’s tearful face, her father’s sad eyes and Jackson’s concerned look all blended together in a whirlwind of emotion that threatened to cripple her. For years she had ached to hold her daughter, to see her face, and all the time her baby had been with her…. Her sister was her daughter. The wound deep in her soul tore further, and Emily cried out from the searing pain.

  “No, no, no,” she moaned in denial, but just as quickly she fought back, determined not to let her mother destroy her again. “Becca is my daughter,” she said, and let the words soothe and comfort in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible. “Becca is my daughter. The baby I gave away is Becca.”

  A gasp came from the doorway and Emily saw Becca standing there. She still wore her pink prom dress and her eyes were huge and bewildered.

  At that moment, the little girl in her dreams turned and Emily saw her face for the first time. She had big brown eyes and long brown hair and her face was Becca’s. Becca was her daughter.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed as the reality crashed into her. Emily’s heart lay heavy in her chest, and a suffocating feeling came over her and she thought she was going to faint. Then Becca wheeled and ran from the room. “Becca,” Emily cried, and immediately went after her, Jackson on her heels.

  “Leave her alone, Emily Ann,” her mother called. “Just leave her.”

  The words followed Emily, but she knew she would never leave Becca again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EMILY RAN INTO THE HALL, but Becca was nowhere to be found. She turned to Jackson. “Where is she? Where did she go?”

  Jackson glanced at the elevators. “She didn’t use the elevators, so she must’ve taken the stairs.” He pushed a button. “We can probably catch her on the ground floor.”

  The elevator whizzed down, but when they reached the main floor, Becca wasn’t there. They ran toward the parking area and Emily saw Becca’s red Mustang speed away. Emily had given her the car for her sixteenth birthday, which had led, predictably, to a huge argument with Rose.

  “That’s her,” Emily shouted, and they dashed to his rental car. She refused to think about Rose as they followed it out of Corpus Christi to Rockport. “She’s headed home,” Emily said lamely.

  In Aransas Pass, Becca ran a red light. Cars honked and swerved to miss her. Jackson was forced to stop. “She’s going to kill herself,” Emily cried, fighting to maintain a grip on reality.

  Jackson was also struggling with his emotions. He was cursing himself for not handling things better. Now his daughter was hell-bent on a collision course.

  His daughter.

  It was the first time he’d allowed himself to even think the words. He’d had the information for days, but he’d been afraid to believe it…afraid it wasn’t true. It was, though. Becca was his and Emily’s daughter.

  The light turned green. “Where do you think she’d go?” Jackson asked.

  “Maybe to her friend Ginger’s. Or to Joni’s or Tommy’s.”

  They went by all those houses, but the Mustang was nowhere in sight. They drove around Rockport and every place Emily could think of and they still didn’t find her.

  “Let’s check my parents’ house again,” Emily suggested. “We might’ve missed her.”

  She realized the clouds had darkened and the wind was growing steadily stronger. A storm was definitely on the way. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding Becca.

  When they reached the house, Emily jumped out and ran inside. In a minute she was back. Jackson had remained standing by the car.

  “She’s not there.” She sighed dejectedly. “Where could she…” Her voice trailed off as she looked toward the water and the boat docks. She saw a flash of red on the other side of the pier and knew it was Becca’s car. She kicked off her high heels and ran toward the docks.

  Her breath was coming in gulps when she got to the car. Becca’s purse and corsage were on the seat and the keys in the ignition, but Becca wasn’t anywhere.

  Jackson reached her side, his breathing labored. “She’s not here, is she?”

  “No,” Emily muttered forlornly, and then she noticed the boats. Her father had two—a twenty-one footer and a twenty-three footer. The smaller boat was gone. “Oh, my God.”

  “What?” Jackson asked, his eyes following hers to the boats.

  “My dad’s other boat is missing. Becca must have taken it. There’s a storm coming and she’s out on the water. We have to do something. She doesn’t stand a chance in this high wind.”

  Jackson held Emily’s trembling body against his for a second, just needing her contact. “I’ll go call the Coast Guard. They’ll bring her back. Everything will be all right.”

  For that moment Emily submerged herself in Jackson, but suddenly the events of the past hour crowded in on her and she beat her fists against his chest. “No, no, it won’t!” she screamed. “I should never have said I loved you. I knew something bad would happen like before, and it did. We were selfish, selfish. Now we’re going to lose her. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”

  Her words shocked him, but he recognized that she was on the edge and didn’t know what she was saying or doing. He grabbed her hands and held them. “Emily, love, listen to me,” he said, wanting to ease that intense pain inside her. “Our love is not selfish and the bad things didn’t happen because of it. Pull yourself together.” He took a breath. “Becca needs us. I have to go call the Coast Guard. Will you be okay?”

  The wind howled with an eerie sound, echoing the turmoil in Emily, but through the fog of despair she heard Jackson’s voice and she nodded her head.

  Becca needed them.

  “Yes,” she mumbled, and Jackson ran toward the house.

  As Emily stared out at the misty, turbulent water, thunder rolled across the black sky. The wind whipped her hair into her face and she wrapped her arms around her waist to still her fears.

  It didn’t work. Fear, stark and paralyzing, claimed her, and she sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Sobs shook her body as she let the tears flow unheeded. She cried for all the wasted years, for the baby she’d never nurtured, and most of all for the young woman whose heart she had just broken. “Becca,” she cried. “I’m sorry.” The sound was muffled against her hands. Then she cried for herself and Jackson and all the pain they’d been through and the pain that was yet to come.

  Fear was a palpable thing, controlling her, but she had to fight back…for Becca’s sake. She got to her feet, mesmerized by the rocking of the boat as the wind banged it against the pier. To and fro. Bang, bang. Insistently the wind kept pounding. Bang, bang. The noise galvanized her into ac
tion. Becca’s life was in danger and she couldn’t wait for the Coast Guard. She had to help her daughter.

  Without another thought, she ran to the pier, hitched up her dress and jumped into the boat. She untied it and pulled up the anchor. Taking the seat at the center console, she turned the key. The boat fired on the first try and she guided it toward open water. She hadn’t driven a boat in a while, but it came back to her quickly and easily. The high waves lapped at her and at times she thought the boat would capsize, but she didn’t turn back. There was a small island not far away, where she and Becca used to go to swim and escape from Rose for an hour or two. Emily hoped that was where Becca had gone and she headed directly for it.

  JACKSON RAN BACK to the boat docks and his heart stopped as he realized Emily was gone—and so was the other boat. “No, Emily, no!” he cried, but he knew it was true—Emily was out in that churning water somewhere, looking for Becca.

  He didn’t have time to think as he saw the big Coast Guard boat glide up to the pier. A young man leapt out and ran toward him. Jackson met him halfway, not giving him time to speak. “My daughter’s out in this weather,” he shouted against the wind. “Her mother went after her. You have to find them. Please.”

  “Slow down, sir,” the man said. “Haven’t you heard? There’s a major storm coming. We’re advising everyone to get off the water and head for shelter. It’s going to hit any minute.”

  Jackson threw back his head. “Why the hell do you think I called you? You have to save my daughter and Emily.”

  Another man walked up. “We can’t go out until the weather clears. It’s too dangerous.”

  Jackson frowned at him. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

  “Yes, sir, within reason, but we’re required to take precautions. As soon as we’re able, we’ll go after your daughter.”

  “That’ll be too late! They’ll both be…dead.” The words came from deep in his soul and the two men glanced at each other.

  The wind wailed and shrieked, and they had difficulty remaining on their feet. “We have to find shelter,” the first man shouted. “The storm’s breaking. Is there somewhere we can wait this out?”