Emily's Daughter (17 page)

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.

E
MILY 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 action. 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.

J
ACKSON 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?”

Jackson pointed to the Cooper house. The two men started toward it, then the second one turned back. “Come on, man, you can’t stay out here.”

Jackson wasn’t listening. His eyes were focused on the tumultuous horizon. The wind rocked his body as he made his way to the shore. The two men tried to get him to the house, but eventually they gave up and ran for cover.

Jackson watched the water as the waves crashed against
shore. A small boat was perilous in this type of wind; even he knew that. He wondered who the storm would take first—Emily or Becca. A suffocating sensation burned his throat and he brushed away a tear, then another. The wind tugged and shook him, but he kept his eyes on the water. Finally the wind made him stagger and knocked him down. He struggled to stand, refusing to move from this spot where he had last seen Emily. But the wind was stronger than his will and it roared into him, blowing him to the sand. Again he stood. It was him against the wind—something he could fight, something he could vent all his rage on. The third time the wind took him down, he stayed on the cold, wet ground. Without them, without Emily and Becca, he didn’t have a reason to fight. The wind ripped and tore at him, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

T
HE WAVES SLAMMED
into the boat and Emily feared it would capsize at any moment. The farther she went, the stronger the waves became. She was soaking wet and her body trembled, but she kept going. Relief filled her as she saw the shape of the island, then just as quickly that relief spiraled into agony. She could see an overturned boat being tossed on the water—her father’s boat. Where was Becca? Oh, God, where was Becca?

She gassed the motor and jetted through a wave toward the shore with a whooshing, deafening sound. The impact jarred her from the seat to the bottom of the boat with a painful thud. Quickly collecting herself, she crawled from the boat. The high wind forced her backward and she had trouble standing. Through sheer willpower, she managed to stumble down the island shoreline. “Becca, Becca, Becca!” she screamed, but the wind took the name and threw it back in her face.

The wind grabbed her body, too, and she felt herself going down, but she scrambled to her feet, mud coating her arms, legs and face. She tried to control her breathing and the fear exploding through her. “Becca, Becca, Becca!” she screamed again. Her voice caught as she saw a figure huddled farther down the beach.

It was Becca. She was alive.

Emily tried to regain her balance, but the wind was too strong. On her hands and knees she crawled until she reached her. With a muffled cry, like a wounded animal, Becca clutched at her and they held on tight. Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked as the storm broke in all its fury. Wind tore at their bodies and rain pelted their heads, but they remained locked in each other’s arms. Even when high waves threatened to engulf them, they didn’t move as a force stronger than nature bound them together.

J
ACKSON SAT ON THE MUDDY BEACH
, his knees drawn to his chin. The heavy rain flattened his hair against his scalp and mud caked his slacks and shirt. He had removed his jacket, but he couldn’t remember where or when and he didn’t care. His total attention was on the horizon as he mentally willed them to appear through the mist. He had finally found what he’d been searching for all his life—love, real love, and it had vanished before he’d had a chance to fully acknowledge it. Now he was an empty shell and he hated the storm, the circumstances and everything that had taken them from him. He thought he’d suffered when his mother died, but this…this was a pain he wouldn’t survive.

“Sir? Sir?”

Jackson heard the voice, but he didn’t respond. Then he felt someone touch his shoulder and he glanced up into
the face of one of the Coast Guard officers. “The storm’s let up enough so we can go out now,” the man said.

It took a moment for the words to sink in, then Jackson asked in a desolate voice, “Do you think it’ll do any good?”

“I don’t know, but there’s always a chance.”

A chance. A chance. A chance.

The word propelled Jackson to his feet. If there was the tiniest possibility that they were alive, he would hang on to that. He had to. It was all he had left.

“Let’s go, sir,” the man said as he saw the life come back into Jackson’s eyes.

They walked down the pier and boarded the big white boat. Within minutes they were sailing over the waves, looking for a sign of life.

W
HEN THE RAIN STOPPED
and the wind released its hold, Becca asked, “Is it true, Em? Is it true?”

From the tone of her voice, Emily knew that Becca didn’t hate her. That was more than she’d hoped for…more than she had a right to expect. She smoothed the wet hair away from Becca’s face. “Yes,” she said, with tears in her voice.

“But…how?”

Emily swallowed the lump in her throat. “My sister, Rebecca, died July 19 and evidently Mom decided to raise you as her own.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I haven’t heard the whole story, yet, but we will…together.”

Becca pulled back and wiped a tear from her mud stained face. “You’re my mother…my real mother,” she said. Her eyes grew enormous. “When we were talking in my room about your daughter and you were sad because
you’d never seen her face, I said you could always look at me. And it was me. It was
me.
”

Emily nodded, unable to speak at the pain in Becca’s voice.

“How could she do that to us? I hate her.”

Emily realized that hatred could consume her, but she knew she had to reject that destructive emotion. They’d been hurt enough, and now they had to find a common ground between hatred and love. For Becca’s sake, Emily had no other choice.

“We have to talk to her—try to understand why she did it.”

“I’ll never understand and I’m not going back. You can’t make me,” Becca said defiantly.

Emily held Becca’s chin in one hand. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to see your precious face? An eternity—and I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want.”

Before Becca could answer, a Coast Guard boat emerged through the mist. As it reached land, Emily saw Jackson jump out and run along the beach toward them and her heart filled with so much love.

Jackson fell down beside them and his arms encircled their two bodies. “You’re alive! Thank God, you’re alive,” he cried.

“Yes,” Emily whispered, one arm around Jackson, the other around Becca. After that, no one spoke. All they needed now was to touch and be with each other. The men from the Coast Guard stood a distance away, hesitant to intrude on this moment.

Finally the older man asked, “Does anyone need medical attention?”