Читать книгу Cowboy at the Crossroads - Linda Warren - Страница 8

One year later

“I WANT BABIES AND A HUSBAND, and preferably not in that order,” Rebecca said as she took a swallow of champagne.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” her friend Ginger replied, studying the bubbles in her own glass. “Or maybe not enough,” she added reaching for the bottle on the coffee table. They were in Becca’s apartment after a big night of celebrating.

“Why aren’t I happy, Gin?” Becca asked woefully. “I just finished my residency in pediatrics. I should be happy, ecstatic. All the hard work’s behind me and now I can treat children like I’ve always planned. I don’t understand why I’m not happier.”

“Maybe you didn’t do it for yourself,” Ginger muttered. “Go to medical school, I mean.”

Becca’s head jerked up. “What are you talking about?”

“Maybe you did it for Emily and Jackson. Ever since you found out they’re your real parents, you’ve been trying to be the perfect daughter—doing everything to be the daughter they wanted. But hell, Bec, no one’s perfect. Not even you.”

“You’re drunk,” Becca said, refusing to believe a word Gin was saying. At seventeen, she’d found out that Emily, the sister she adored, was really her mother and that Rose, her grandmother and the woman she’d believed to be her mother, was not. It had been a traumatic time, but she’d adjusted.

“Maybe.” Gin hiccuped. “But the truth is a hard pill to swallow.”

“I’ve wanted to be a doctor ever since I can remember,” Becca said defiantly. “Finding out about my birth had nothing to do with it.”

“Yeah, you started saying that in first grade. I want to be a doctor like my sister. Then bam, you find out your sister’s really your mother and you have to be a doctor. There wasn’t any other choice for you.”

Becca stared at Gin with a mutinous expression. They’d been best friends since kindergarten and they knew each other better than anyone. Gin always spoke her mind, and that sometimes got on Becca’s nerves—as it did now. She hadn’t gone to medical school to please her parents. Or had she? God, she needed more champagne. She grabbed the bottle and refilled her glass.

“You’re wrong, Gin,” she murmured under her breath.

“Let me ask you a question,” Gin said as she twisted her glass. “You have a month off before you join Dr. Arnold’s practice in July. What do you plan to do with that time?”

Becca’s eyes darkened, but Ginger didn’t give her a chance to speak. She answered her own question. “I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do. You’ll spend that month with your parents and Scotty, like you always do. You want babies? Well, doctor or not, you don’t seem to realize you need a man to accomplish that. And you haven’t had much of a social life in the past ten years, except for Colton who’s always hanging around—like a little puppy waiting for your attention.”

“Colton and I are friends,” Becca said in a cool tone.

“I bet you haven’t even slept with him.”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“The man is forty years old, Becca. If he doesn’t want that kind of relationship, there’s something wrong with him.”

“Shut up! You’re making me angry.”

Ginger took a long swig of champagne and set the glass on the table. “Damn, that was good. Your dad doesn’t spare the bucks when he buys the bubbly.”

Becca knew what Gin was doing—changing the subject—but Becca wasn’t letting her get away with that. They had started this and they were going to finish it.

“My relationship with Colton is my business,” she snapped.

Ginger lifted an eyebrow. “Did I say it wasn’t?”

“You’re making snide remarks and I don’t like it.”

“Okay, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Becca sighed. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Me, neither,” Ginger agreed, and stretched out on the sofa. “All I’m saying is if you want those babies, you have to do something about it. You have to have a life of your own.”

Becca settled back in her chair and didn’t say anything. She hoped she wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, but she couldn’t shake the discontent inside her. She should be so happy. She’d finally graduated from medical school with a specialty in pediatrics, and her parents had thrown a big party to celebrate her achievement. They were proud of her and had invited all her friends and family—including Colton. When she’d first met him, she had disliked him on sight. He was intelligent, good-looking and far too sure of himself. But as she got to know him, her opinion changed, and she found that he had a softer, more vulnerable side. It was an appealing quality in such a driven businessman.

Because of Colton’s connection to her father, he spent a lot of time with her family. Did Colton think their relationship was more than friendship? Surely not. But after talking with Gin, she realized it was time to clear things up with Colton. She’d been saying that for over a year now and still hadn’t done anything about it. They’d both been so busy and…

Damn, what was wrong with her? Why was she finding fault with everything in her life? She glanced at Gin, who was now snoring into a cushion. Becca smiled. She treasured her bond with Gin and was glad they hadn’t lost touch after high school. Becca had come to Houston to live with Emily and Jackson after she’d found out they were her real parents, while Ginger had gone to secretarial school and had become a secretary to the CEO of an insurance company in Houston. They talked often, and Becca valued her opinion. That was why Gin’s words weighed so heavily.

Maybe Gin was right. She’d spent the past ten years being Emily and Jackson’s little girl. Even though she now had a medical degree, she still felt like that little girl. She had to find the woman inside, and maybe that meant leaving Houston…and her family.

How did she do that? She loved her family. As she yawned and stretched, she knew it would be one of the hardest things she’d ever have to do. But she also knew it was the only way to release this restlessness inside her—to find true happiness and all that crap. God, she’d had too much champagne. There was nothing wrong with her life. Oh, yes, there was. She wanted babies—babies with big brown eyes and…

IT TOOK BECCA TWO DAYS to recover from the hangover. She’d never drunk that much in her life, but she and Gin had really tied one on that night. It was a kind of release, she supposed. She’d worked so hard for so many years; she was exhausted, physically and mentally. A long rest and she’d be as good as new.

Gin was right about one thing, though. For a twenty-eight-year-old woman, soon to be twenty-nine, she spent too much time with her family. But she’d needed those years with Emily and Jackson and Scotty. They had connected as a family, and that was important to her. Leaving seventeen years behind hadn’t been easy, and in retrospect she realized she hadn’t. She had merged the two parts of her life, and she was happy with her relationship with Rose and Owen, her grandparents, the people who had raised her, as well as her relationship with Emily and Jackson. Then why…?

No, she wouldn’t do this. It was Monday morning and she didn’t have to go to work. It was her time off and she could do anything she wanted. Anything at all. Analyzing her life wasn’t on that list. Carrying her coffee cup, she went into the living room and sat down in her favorite chair. She started to call Gin, but realized she’d be getting ready for work. Becca would call her later.

Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting to her mother and the twists and turns in their lives. At seventeen, Emily Cooper had fallen in love with Jackson Talbert. Jackson and his father had come to Rockport, Texas, for a fishing trip. Rose and Owen, Emily’s parents, rented cottages to tourists. Since it was November, the cottages were closed for the winter months, so Owen rented them the spare room. At the time, Rose, who was forty, had just found out she was pregnant. Emily was very upset by the news. She was in high school and embarrassed by the whole situation. That was why she’d done things with Jackson she wouldn’t normally do. She’d wanted to get back at her parents. Well, that wasn’t the whole situation, of course. She’d fallen for Jackson, and fallen hard.

Soon after the Talberts left, Emily found out she was pregnant. It was devastating news, and Rose had berated Emily for her stupidity. After several attempts to reach the Talbert family without success, Rose insisted Emily give up the baby for adoption. Emily fought it, resisted, to no avail. Rose and Owen had their own child on the way and couldn’t help her. Besides, all her life Emily had planned to be a doctor, and Rose wasn’t letting anything interfere with that. In the end, Emily did what her parents wanted. After graduation, Owen took Emily to San Antonio, where the adoption had been arranged.

At the same time, Rose gave birth to a baby girl, who died after a few weeks. In a depressed and disturbed state of mind, Rose cancelled Emily’s adoption, and when Emily’s baby was born, Rose took her home and raised Rebecca as her own. Emily never knew. She went to college, then to medical school, never knowing the truth. Everyone thought Becca was Rose’s—even Emily.

For years, Emily had nightmares about giving her baby away, and when Jackson came back into her life, she told him about the pregnancy. He was angry at first, and then they set out to find their daughter—neither of them dreaming that she was so close.

Becca took a sip of coffee as she relived the heartache of that time. She’d felt so angry when she found out what Rose had done. She’d been furious with everyone, including Emily. Especially Emily. The mother who’d let her go. But eventually they had gotten through all the pain, and Emily and Jackson were more deeply in love than ever. Now they had Scotty, too. Rose and Owen still lived in Rockport, and Becca saw them as often as she could.

Forgiving was easy, but forgetting was sometimes hard.

Someone had once asked her what you do when you discover you’re not really who you thought you were. The answer was that you fall apart, then you pick yourself up and get on with your life. Now Becca was wondering if she should be making bigger changes in that orderly life of hers and—

The ringing of the phone stopped her thoughts. She put her cup down and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Dr. Becca Talbert?”

Becca recognized that voice. For the past year and at the oddest times she’d seen his face and the sadness in his eyes.

“Yes,” she answered readily.

“This is Cord Prescott.”

Becca already knew that. But why was he calling her after a whole year without a word? Why was he calling when they were practically strangers?

“You may not remember me,” he said, “but I’m Colton’s brother.”

“Yes, I remember you, Cord, and your little girl. How are you?” Over the past year, she’d often asked Colton about Cord and his daughter. He always said they were “trying to adjust.”

“Not good,” he answered. “Colton said you’re a pediatrician and I thought you might be able to help me.”

“With Nicki, you mean?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I know you’re busy, but I’m not sure what to do anymore.”

Becca curled her feet beneath her, settling more comfortably into the chair. “Tell me about Nicki.”

“I’ve taken her to several doctors, even a child psychologist, but she won’t talk to them. She just clings to me, and if I leave the room she screams and cries.”

“Then she hasn’t adjusted to her mother’s death?”

“Not at all,” he said. “She insists on staying in her room and she’s hardly eating. She’s lost so much weight I can hardly stand it. She used to love the outdoors, but she won’t even ride her horse. She won’t talk about her mother, and I’m at my wits’ end. I think she’s making herself physically ill with grief. I’d really like to get your professional opinion.”

“Of course. I’d be glad to help any way I can,” Becca said instantly, her heart heavy at the thought of what Cord was going through.

“Thanks, Becca. I’d appreciate it.”

“But I’m not seeing patients until July.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause. “Nicki doesn’t do well in an office environment. I was hoping I could persuade you to come out to the ranch and see her.”

This time Becca was the one who was startled, but it didn’t take her long to decide. “I can do that. As a matter of fact, I have the afternoon free. Why don’t I drive out there today.”

“Thank you so much,” he said earnestly. “Do you remember where we are?”

“Yes. But Cord…you have to understand that I treat the body. Nicki may need a psychologist. I’ve had courses, but it’s not my specialty.”

“Just see her, that’s all I ask. Colton says you’re a very good doctor—and I trust his judgment.”

“Fine. I’ll be there around four o’clock.”

As Becca hung up the phone, she wondered what else Colton had told him about her. She shook her head. What did that matter? Nicki Prescott needed help, and she had to do everything she could.

CORD REPLACED THE RECEIVER with a long sigh. He remembered how comforting Becca had been the day of the funeral. He’d been so overwhelmed by anger, disillusionment and pain that he didn’t remember much, but he remembered Becca. And she would help his baby. She had to.

He hurried down the hall to the kitchen. Della, the housekeeper, was sitting on a stool, peeling potatoes. At sixty-five, Della was a high-strung woman who never seemed to tire or lose energy. She’d been with the Prescott family since Cord was a young boy. Her hair was now gray and her blue eyes not as sharp, but in other ways she was unchanged.

“What are we having for supper?” he asked.

“Roast. Why?” She didn’t look up, just kept on peeling potatoes.

“Because Dr. Talbert’s coming to see Nicki, and I’m going to invite her to eat with us.”

“Dr. Talbert?” Della raised her head, frowning. “Isn’t that Colton’s…friend? Becca, right?”

“Yes.”

“Does Colton know she’s coming?”

“No, and what difference does it make?” There was a note of exasperation in his voice that he couldn’t hide. He hadn’t called Colton because he didn’t want a lot of people around. He wanted to keep this as private as possible, for Nicki’s sake.

“None whatsoever,” Della replied, returning to her potatoes.

“Becca will be here to see Nicki, that’s all.”

“It’s time someone helped that child. She can’t go on like this much longer.”

“I know. That’s why I want this evening to be special—calm and quiet—so Becca can interact with Nicki.”

“Does the queen of the house know you’re having a guest for supper?”

“I don’t give a damn what Blanche thinks.”

“Your mother doesn’t like it when things are done without her knowledge.”

“You can tell Blanche—” He stopped and took a breath. “Never mind, I’ll handle Blanche. Just prepare an extra-special meal.”

Della glanced at him. “You’re very excited about this.”

“I am. My daughter’s life depends on it.”

AS BECCA WAS TRYING TO DECIDE what to wear, she thought about Nicki. The child should have adjusted to her mother’s death by now, but it was hard to judge with children. Trauma affected them differently. Becca could still hear her saying in that pitiful little voice, “I can’t find my mommy.” Death was so hard to explain to children, and Becca wasn’t convinced she could help Nicki. However, she’d certainly try.

She dressed in a tan pantsuit and brown blouse, then brushed her long brown hair and let it hang loose down her back. Working or at school, she always wore it pinned up or clipped at the nape of her neck. As a teenager, her hair was much longer, an unruly mane that used to drive Emily crazy. But these days Emily never complained about Becca’s hair. Considering everything that had happened in their lives, they got along exceptionally well.

Becca stared at her brown eyes and olive complexion in the mirror. Everyone said she was looking more and more like her mother. Becca had always thought Emily was beautiful, but she didn’t feel she was. Emily had a grace and sophistication that Becca felt she lacked. Becca was more down-to-earth in both temperament and appearance. She had far less patience than Emily and often lost her temper. Emily never did, and Becca envied that about her. Becca envied everything about her wonderful mother; maybe that was her problem.

She applied lipstick and forced herself to stop thinking. All this free time, all this soul-searching, was making her feel confused. And she wasn’t confused—she just needed to get her life and goals in perspective and then everything else would fall into place. Like her social life. Gin said she didn’t have one, but Gin was wrong. She’d dated several interns, and each occasion had proved to be an exercise in restraint. They thought sex was the normal conclusion to a date. She didn’t. She wanted love and passion—not just sex. Emily had told her when she was a teenager that sex without love was just an act and she would know when the time was right. So far, that time hadn’t happened for her. In high school, her boyfriend Tommy had pressed her continually for sex, but she’d never taken that step. Not with him or with any other man.

When she’d found out about her birth, her world had been turned upside down and she rebelled, dating guys Rose and Emily disapproved of. Still, she couldn’t degrade herself by sleeping with boys she didn’t care about merely to punish her family. Later she was so busy with her studies that love eluded her, and she refused to have sex without it. Her feelings on the matter had to do with her upbringing and with Emily’s influence. Now she was older and knew more about sex and life, but her standards hadn’t changed. She was waiting for the right man…and love. Any nice guys left out there? One came to mind and she quickly grabbed her purse. She didn’t want to keep a nice guy waiting.

BECCA HEADED FOR INTERSTATE 10 and drove out of Houston toward Beaumont. The city gave way to farmland and ranchland. Soon she saw the stone and wrought-iron entrance. The sign—Triple Creek. Prescott Ranch—appeared on a high arc above the cattle guard. She drove through, between wood rail fences, watching the grass sway gently in the breeze and the cows and horses grazing. The land was mostly flat with creeks and valleys; here and there she noticed some beautiful old oak trees.

The white stone ranch house came into view. Sprawling and roomy, it had a long front veranda with stone pillars and a wrought-iron fence that enclosed the backyard. She parked in front, grabbed her medical bag and walked to the door. She rang the bell, which she heard resounding throughout the house.

Cord opened the door, and for a moment Becca was speechless. He had on worn boots and jeans with a blue cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled up. His dark blond hair was combed neatly and curled onto his collar. His mustache and honed masculine features told Becca that here was a true Texas cowboy. That wasn’t an idle impression. She knew from what Colton had said that Cord’s appearance was a true reflection of his personality and his calling.

His mustache moved slightly as he said, “Come in, please. Sit down.”

Becca walked past him through the large foyer and into the den. She took a seat on a leather sofa.

Cord watched her for a second, then sat opposite 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.”