her in a matching leather chair. A saying he’d heard many times from Gus, his ranch foreman and Della’s husband, came to mind. That gal’s been spit and polished until she shines. Cord never paid much attention to Gus’s sayings, but looking at Becca, he knew what it meant. Becca with her bright smile and sophisticated manner caught his eye like a shining star. No wonder Colton was so enamored of her.
“Thank you for coming. I’m really grateful,” he said before he got completely sidetracked.
“You’re welcome,” Becca answered, glancing around. “Where’s Nicki?”
“Upstairs in her room. As always.”
“She’s been in her room all day?”
“Yes. The only time she comes out is when I force her, and it’s getting increasingly hard to do that since she cries most of the time.”
“That’s not good, Cord,” she said in a solemn voice.
“I know—and I’m hoping you can figure out what to do,” he replied.
She saw a familiar sadness in his brown eyes, but it was much more intense than the last time, and something in her reacted strongly to that—just as before.
“Can I see her?” she asked with a catch in her voice. “I’d like to examine her.”
“Sure.” He got up and led the way toward the stairs. At the bottom, he stepped aside to let her go first. She wore medium heels and felt dwarfed by his height. But it wasn’t only that. She was very aware of Cord Prescott—as a man. Maybe it was the cowboy thing. That persona intrigued her, as it did most women. Or maybe she just empathized with him because of what he was suffering, because of his grief and his fear for his daughter.
“Second door on the left,” Cord said as they reached the landing. There were hardwood floors throughout the house and beautiful area rugs. A lot of the furniture was antique, probably dating from when the house was first built. Portraits of Prescott men were displayed on the wall of the staircase. Becca remembered Colton telling her that all the Prescott men’s names began with the letter C; it was a tradition kept alive from generation to generation. She wondered why there were no pictures of Prescott women or wives. They could be in another area of the house, she supposed, and she would definitely ask Colton about it.
Cord opened the door and they went inside. Nicki sat in a children’s rocker clutching the same doll she had a year ago. Becca was dismayed by what she saw. The child’s blond curly hair was neatly combed and in pigtails, and she wore pink shorts, a matching top and sandals—but her cheeks were hollow and her little arms and legs were so thin. She reminded Becca of anorexic teenagers she’d seen. What had happened to this child?
Cord squatted beside her. “Baby, we have company. Do you remember Becca?”
Nicki hid her face in the doll’s hair. Just as she had a year ago.
Becca knelt on the floor. “It was a long time ago, but I told you the story about Cinderella and the prince. The prince who rode a horse like your daddy. Do you remember?”
Nicki shook her head and didn’t look at her.
“Would you like me to tell you another story?”
Nicki shook her head again, but Becca wasn’t giving up.
“I know lots of stories,” Becca said. “Of course, most of them are about monsters or scary stuff that my brother, Scotty, likes. But we’re girls and we don’t care for that kind of nonsense, do we.”
Nicki still didn’t answer and seemed to burrow into the chair.
“Baby, Becca asked you a question,” Cord said softly. Nicki still didn’t respond. “Look at me, baby,” Cord added in that same soft tone.
Nicki slowly raised her head and stared at Cord. “I’m tired, Daddy. Make her go ’way.”
Becca’s heart sank, although she didn’t know why, since she hadn’t expected any miracles. It was just so painful seeing the child in this condition.
“I’m a doctor, Nicki,” she told her. “I’m going to check your vital signs. Is that okay?”
Nicki didn’t answer, but Cord nodded. Becca opened her bag and took out her stethoscope. Nicki’s signs were weak, and Becca knew she was in a danger zone. Her first reaction was to get her to a hospital immediately, but something held her back. The hospital would only frighten Nicki, and she wanted to try a different approach first.
“Daddy, make her go ’way,” Nicki whimpered, when Becca had finished her exam.
“Okay, baby,” Cord said, smoothing Nicki’s hair. Becca noticed that his hand shook slightly. “Della made some chocolate chip cookies. Why don’t I get you one.”
“Not hungry.”
“Please eat something, baby.” The ache in Cord’s voice squeezed Becca’s heart until she had trouble breathing.
“I’m not hungry, Daddy.”
“Okay, baby,” Cord said, and kissed her cheek. He got up, and they walked back down the stairs and into the den.
Cord started to pace; she could see he was terribly upset. “I can’t take much more of this. I can’t stand to see her in this state.”
“Yes, she has deteriorated. Her body’s starved for nourishment, she’s dehydrated and her heart is weak.”
“I don’t know what else to do!”
Becca knew it was time for some hard truths, and Cord wasn’t going to like what she had to say. But in the few minutes she’d been with them, she could see what part of the problem was.
“Are you familiar with the term enabler?”
He stopped pacing and stared at her. “What?”
“An enabler, Cord. That’s what you are. You’re enabling Nicki to stay in that room. You’re enabling her not to eat. You’re enabling her to do whatever she wants.”
His eyes darkened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“If Nicki doesn’t want to eat, you don’t make her. If she wants to stay in her room, you let her. You’re giving in to her every whim—and it has to stop.”
His eyes became blacker, if that was possible. “My God, you want me to force her to eat and to drag her out of her room?”
“I’m afraid so,” Becca admitted.
“After what my daughter’s been through, I would never do that to her.”
Becca swallowed the constriction in her throat. “It’s called tough love, and you have to do something, or Nicki will not survive this. Can’t you see that?”
Cord swung away in anger, then swung back. “I think you should leave,” he said in the coldest voice she’d ever heard. “You’re not the doctor or the woman I thought you were.”
CHAPTER
