Cowboy at the Crossroads. Linda Warren

why she stayed.” Della put the meringue bowl in the sink. “I never knew she was drinking so much and neither did Cord. She hid it well. Such a tragedy.” Della shook her head again. “Cord locked up her room and nothing in there’s been touched since.”

      It was a tragedy, Becca thought, and now it was time to heal—for the whole Prescott family. “Colton mentioned that she’d been on antidepressants, too.”

      “That’s right. After Nicki was born, she just seemed to hit rock bottom. On the days she felt really bad, Edie or I would watch the baby. Cord wanted to hire a nurse, but Anette wouldn’t have it. She wanted to care for her child. She really did.”

      “Then, Anette was a good mother.”

      “Yes, even I will admit that. Nicki was never out of her sight for long. I guess that’s why the little one’s taking this so hard.”

      Becca brought her concentration back to the present and Nicki. She’d been gossiping too long with Della. Something she didn’t normally do, but she was very curious about Anette. And Della had definitely filled in some of the background facts.

      “Would you please set a place for Nicki at dinner?” Becca asked.

      Della turned from the sink with a startled expression. “She’s coming down to eat?”

      “Yes,” Becca said with more confidence than she was feeling. “I’m going up to see her now, and Della, if you hear her crying or complaining, please don’t interfere.”

      “Does Cord know about this?” Della inquired, wiping her hands on her apron.

      “Yes,” Becca answered, heading for the stairs. As she walked up, she silently prayed that she could get through to Nicki. She opened the door and found Nicki sitting exactly as they’d left her—and Becca knew she had to use drastic measures to shock Nicki back into the real world. To do that, she had to be strong and keep her emotions in check.

      She knelt in front of the rocker. “Hi, Nicki,” she said cheerfully. “My name is Becca. I told you that before, remember?”

      No response, as she had expected.

      “I’m a doctor and I take care of girls and boys. If they don’t feel well, I try to make them feel better. Do you feel bad?”

      No response.

      In Becca’s experience, it was sometimes easier for a child to talk through an object like a toy. She focused on the doll in Nicki’s arms. “What’s your doll’s name?”

      Again no response.

      She sat on the floor in a comfortable position. “I had a doll similar to that when I was your age. My sis—” She stopped as she realized she was about to say sister—a minor slip of the tongue. It was so hard to think of Emily as her mother when she remembered herself at that age. Lord, she was getting sidetracked and it was a weird feeling, but one she could handle. “Actually, my mother bought me the doll. She bought me lots of dolls, but I liked that one best. I named her Chocolate because I love chocolate, and I called her Coco for short. Does your doll have a name?” Becca held her breath as she waited.

      Nothing.

      “It’s important for a doll to have a name, don’t you think?”

      Still nothing.

      “She has blond hair like you, so is her name Nicki?”

      Nicki rubbed her head against the doll’s. “Dolly,” she murmured.

      “That’s nice,” Becca said, grateful for a response. She knew that if she kept talking, kept pushing, Nicki would respond in some way. She was hoping for a positive reaction, but she’d take anything at this point. “Does Dolly like to eat?”

      Nicki shook her head.

      “That’s a shame, because Della’s prepared this wonderful meal. I was just down in the kitchen and the smell alone was a real treat. She’s made this chocolate pie that has a fluffy meringue about three inches thick. Do you like chocolate pie?”

      “No. Go ’way. I don’t like you,” Nicki said in a defiant tone.

      Good, Becca thought. Now they were getting somewhere. She had to keep pushing.

      “You don’t have to like me, but I’ve come all this way to see you and I expect you to eat dinner with me.”

      “I’m not hungry. Go ’way.”

      Becca reached up, and caught Nicki’s face with both hands and forced the child to look at her. “I’m not going away and you’re coming downstairs to eat.”

      “No.” Nicki spat the word. “Daddy says I don’t have to and you can’t make me.”

      Becca still held her face and looked into those angry eyes. “I’m going to pick you up and we’re going downstairs.” As she said the words, she got to her feet and gathered Nicki in her arms. This action was met with resistance. Nicki began to cry “No, no, no” and hit at Becca with her free hand and her feet. Becca kept walking; the blows to her face, neck and legs didn’t stop her. Halfway down the stairs, Nicki began to scream, blood-curdling screams. Becca still didn’t stop.

      CORD JUMPED TO HIS FEET when he heard the screams. He ran for the patio door, then halted abruptly when he heard Becca’s words. “Please don’t come inside.” He turned and went back to his chair, but the screams continued. What was she doing to his baby? He marched back to the door and stopped again. God, how was he supposed to handle this? He wanted his child to get better, but he couldn’t take this. Each scream was tearing his heart out. He grasped the doorknob.

      WHEN BECCA REACHED the bottom step she sat down, with Nicki still fighting and screaming in her arms. Suddenly Becca screamed as loudly as Nicki. Nicki stopped and stared at her with tear-filled eyes.

      “I can scream as loudly as you,” Becca informed her in a calm voice. “So are we going to scream or eat dinner?”

      “I don’t like you,” Nicki muttered, rubbing her eyes.

      “I don’t like you too much right now, either,” Becca replied.

      “You’re mean,” Nicki said crossly.

      “I don’t want to be mean,” Becca told her.

      Nicki didn’t answer. She still had a death grip on Dolly, who was looking a little worn and tattered. Now was the time for a softer approach.

      “Dolly seems so sad,” Becca said.

      “She is,” Nicki told her.

      “Oh, that’s too bad. What do you think will make her feel better?”

      Nicki shrugged.

      “Chocolate always makes me feel better.”

      “Candy?” Nicki’s eyes opened wide. She was talking, asking questions. That was good—very good.

      “Yes, when I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, a chocolate bar perks me right up.”

      “It does?”

      “Sure does, but even though I love chocolate, chocolate doesn’t love me.”

      “Why?”

      “Because when you get to be a woman my age, you have to watch your weight and if I eat a lot of chocolate, my butt gets bigger and bigger.”

      “You got a big butt?”

      Becca laughed out loud. She couldn’t help it. Why in the world had she said that? She just wanted to keep Nicki talking, and the words seemed to come of their own volition. How could she correct this?

      Before she could gather her wits, Cord came charging in, Della right behind him. Nicki immediately crawled off Becca’s lap and ran to her father. He picked her up and held her tight.

      “How’s my baby?” he whispered.