those.” Edie had to be in her seventies, but she was still agile, her posture as straight as that of a younger woman.
“Thank you,” Becca said, pretending she couldn’t lift the other case. “I think I need help with this one.”
“I’ll help,” Nicki piped up and ran over to Becca. It was the response Becca had wanted. Together, the trio clambered up the stairs.
On the landing, Becca looked around. There was a long hall with half a dozen doors. She remembered Della’s saying that Cord had locked up Anette’s room. She wondered which room it was. She shook her head; it didn’t matter. Still, Anette had died over a year ago, and Becca felt that Cord should have disposed of her things, kept some for his daughter, perhaps given the rest away. Maybe the task was still too painful for him.
“Which room is mine?” she asked to divert her thoughts.
Nicki shrugged.
“The one at the end of the hall,” Edie said. “Mine’s at the other end, and—” she pointed to a door on the right “—that’s Cord’s. Blanche has the big suite downstairs.”
“Thanks,” Becca replied, entering the room. It was elegant with dark furniture and a four-poster bed. The decor was in peach and pale green, and very soothing. She was going to like it here.
“If you don’t need anything else, I’ve got a function at the church I need to attend.”
“No, and thanks for helping, Edie.”
“Sure.” Edie glanced at Nicki, who had crawled onto the bed. “Good luck. Bye, Nicki.”
“Bye, Edie.”
That was all very polite, but Becca knew it wouldn’t last. Nicki had been allowed to do whatever she wanted for too long. When she couldn’t get her way, she became angry and defiant. Becca would try to change all that because she knew it stemmed from Anette’s death. Inside Nicki was still hurting…and so was Cord.
Becca opened her suitcase and began to put her clothes away in an old-fashioned wardrobe that looked priceless. She loved the antique furniture in this house.
Nicki sat, still on the bed, watching her. When Becca opened her makeup bag and set out the contents on the dresser, Nicki’s eyes grew big.
“My mommy had thin…” Her voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying.
Becca sat beside her. “It’s all right to talk about your mother.”
“No, I don’t want to.” Nicki hung her head.
“Are you mad at your mother?”
Nicki didn’t answer.
“I used to be mad at my mother.”
Nicki glanced at her. “Why?”
Becca wasn’t sure how much to say, but she went with her gut instincts. “Because she gave me away when I was a baby and I didn’t know she was my mother until I was seventeen years old. I did mean and bad things because I thought she didn’t love me.”
“Did she?”
“Oh yeah.”
“How you know?”
Becca placed a hand over her heart. “I know in here. Just like you know in there—” she put her hand on Nicki’s chest “—that your mother loved you.”
Nicki’s eyes widened as she tried to understand what Becca was saying. Becca waited a minute, then said, “It’s almost lunchtime. Why don’t we go and see what Della’s fixing?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well, I am. I only had coffee this morning.”
“I wanna go to my room.”
Becca took a deep breath. “Nicki, sweetie, we’re not going to your room. Please try to understand that. We’ll do anything else that you want—swim, play dolls, swing…anything.”
“No, I’m going to my room.”
Before Becca could stop her, she jumped off the bed and ran for the door. Becca caught her halfway down the hall and swung her up. Nicki kicked and screamed, and Becca joined in as before.
CORD CAME THROUGH the back door, wiped his boots on the mat and stopped in his tracks. Screams. Oh God, how did he deal with this? He walked into the kitchen and asked Della, “Has this been going on since I left?”
Della looked up from the stove. “No, it just started.”
Suddenly the screams stopped, and Cord wondered if he should interfere. He’d wait, he decided; he had to give Becca a chance. He felt sure she knew what she was doing. But it wasn’t easy to hear his child in torment.
BECCA AND NICKI EYED each other. Nicki rubbed her eyes with one hand, still clutching Dolly with the other. “Why you do that?”
“Because I don’t like it when you scream.”
“I don’t like it when you scream, either,” Nicki muttered crossly.
“Well, then, let’s not scream.”
Nicki gave her an assessing look. “’Kay.”
Becca smiled. It was a very tiny step, and there were so many more. “Ready to go downstairs and have lunch?”
Nicki shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
Another step to take, Becca thought. “That’s okay. You can watch me eat.” She set Nicki on her feet and they walked downstairs.
When they entered the kitchen and Nicki saw Cord, she ran to him, crying, “Daddy, Daddy, I wanna go to my room!”
It seemed to be a statement Nicki routinely used to get her way. Her room was where she could grieve in peace—but that wasn’t happening anymore. Becca would insist on it.
They ate at the kitchen table. Della had prepared hamburgers, homemade French fries and cut-up fruit. Just like last night, Becca didn’t force Nicki to eat; she filled Nicki’s plate and cut the hamburger into four pieces so she could eat it easily. She poured lots of ketchup on her plate, then left Nicki alone and started on her own food.
“This burger is absolutely delicious,” she said as she took a bite.
“Triple Creek beef. It’s the best,” Della told her.
“It certainly is,” Becca agreed. “So you eat the beef raised here on the ranch?”
“Sure do,” Cord said. “I won’t sell something to a consumer that I won’t eat myself.”
Beef was something Becca got at the supermarket, not something in her yard. Or was that pasture? She didn’t think she could possibly eat a cow she was personally acquainted with. But if she said that, Cord would laugh. She was a city girl, not
