My 6-year-old granddaughter phoned me in panic just after midnight. “Mommy says the baby is coming! Help!” I asked, “Where’s daddy?” She answered, “He k!cked mommy’s tummy and left.”…..

“You won’t have to ask me twice,” Harry said. Something passed between them in that moment, an understanding that went beyond words. Harry had spent his adult life in places where problems got solved with direct action rather than paperwork and committees. He’d pulled men out of collapse mine shafts, fought fires on oil rigs, and once talked a suicidal rough neck down from a Derek platform.

He understood how to handle crisis. This was just another kind of crisis that a nurse appeared in the doorway. Visiting hours are almost over. The patient needs rest. Harry stood and leaned down to kiss Cassid’s forehead. Get some sleep. I’ll take care of Lydia and I’ll take care of everything else. Dad.

Cassidy caught his hand. Be careful. He’s not just some angry drunk. He’s got friends, connections, people who help him. I know, Harry said. So do I. He picked up Lydia and walked out of the hospital room with a measured pace of a man who’d made a decision. In the elevator, Lydia looked up at him with serious brown eyes that reminded him of Cassidy at that age.