Linda Warren - Cowboy at the Crossroads

“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.

Nicki pointed a finger at Becca. “She’s mean. I wanna go to my room.”

Just like that, Nicki had reverted to her old self. Becca got to her feet. Her eyes locked with Cord’s. Don’t you dare was flashing in their depths, and she hoped he got the message.

Cord received the message loud and clear. Thirty minutes ago he would’ve taken Nicki back upstairs. When he heard her scream, it was a certainty. Then he’d gone into the den and heard Nicki talking to Becca in a normal tone of voice. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she was interacting with Becca—something she hadn’t done with anyone in a long time. Now he had to look at himself. Was he an enabler, as Becca had said? Was he enabling Nicki to be the way she was because he didn’t have the strength or the courage to do anything else? Yes, he was. He could see that. Now he had to try some of that tough love Becca had talked about. Nicki’s future depended on it.

“No, baby,” Cord said with every bit of strength he possessed. “We’re eating dinner in the dining room. Della has the table all set.” Without another word, he moved toward the door.

“’Kay, Daddy,” Nicki said meekly, and laid her head on his shoulder.

Cord let out a long breath. If she’d started crying, he still would have made her, but this was so much easier. Becca was right; he had to be firm.

Becca followed them into the large dining room. As Cord settled Nicki in her chair, Becca glanced around. The furniture was exquisite and definitely antique. She guessed the late 1800s. The table could easily seat twenty people. There was also a hutch and a china cabinet. The entire set was made of dark wood and decorated with an ornate design that was unlike anything she’d ever seen. The carving had to have been done by hand. She also noticed the china in the cabinet, which was old and very beautiful. She’d bet it wasn’t used anymore because of its fragility, but it was a pleasure just to look at.