"How bad?"

"Just a nightmare."

He knew about the nightmares and the almost catatonic withdrawal that followed. "I'll go to her right away, Teresa. Will you have some coffee made for my driver and the Secret Service men in the other car?"

"It's already made. Shall I bring some up to you?"

"Thank you." He was climbing the oak steps to the second floor. The house breathed of ages past and the same genteel warmth his own house in Charleston possessed. If Cassie came back, this place might remind her of all the weekends she had spent there.

If? She would come back. He couldn't tolerate anything else.

He threw open the door to Cassie's room without knocking. "How is she?"

Jessica Riley looked up. "She's fine. She had a bad time, but it's over now and she's resting. Isn't that right, Cassie?"

He strode over to the bed. "God, she looks-"

"She's resting," Jessica interrupted, standing up. "And I think we'll leave her to rest while we get a cup of coffee." She turned to the little girl. "We'll be right back, Cassie."

"I don't want to-"

"We're going to get a cup of coffee." Jessica's voice was steely with determination. "Now."

He met her gaze, then turned on his heel and followed her from the room. "Well?"

"I've gone over this before. She's not deaf and she's not in a coma, so you will not act as if she is."

"She lies there like a dead person. She won't speak or respond and you say she's-"

" If you accept her the way she is, it will only encourage her. I won't let you make my job harder by-"

"Won't let me? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Your daughter's doctor. Who the hell do you think you are?" She paused and then her lips curved in a faint smile. "The President of the United States?"

His anger suddenly left him. "So I'm told, but evidently that doesn't impress you."