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.”…..

Her face was stre with tears and her small hands were stained with her mother’s blood. “Come here, baby girl!” Harry scooped her up. She buried her face in his neck and held on tight. “Is mommy going to die?” she whispered. “No,” Harry said and meant it. “Mommy’s tough. She’s going to be fine.” The EMTs loaded Cassidy into the ambulance.

Harry strapped Lydia into his truck and followed the flashing lights through the dark Montana countryside. His speedometer hovering near 80 the entire way. Boseman General’s emergency entrance was a chaos of fluorescent lights and urgent voices. Harry carried Lydia through the automatic doors just as they wheeled Cassidy towards surgery.

A nurse in scrubs intercepted them. Sir, you’ll need to wait here. We’ll update you as soon as we can. I want to see the doctor, Harry said. Dr. Martinez is prepping for surgery. She’ll speak with you after. Now, Harry’s voice carried the authority of a man who’d spent decades giving orders that kept people alive.

I want to know exactly what that bastard did to my daughter. The nurse glanced around, then nodded. Follow me. Dr. Martinez was a small woman with tired eyes and surgical gloves already on her hands. She looked hairy up and down, taking in his work boots, faded jeans, and the child in his arms. You’re the father. I am.

...continue reading…