Mary was well-trained in reading Hobart's mood. Like an Indian judging the weather from the small signs in the wind and sky. He was ill-at-ease, upset... And yes, definitely a little frightened.She stepped closer, carefully. He gave no sign he noticed her approach. Before long she stood next to the couch, staring down at him. Angry now, bold beyond reason, she reached down and tipped the beer into his lap.He howled and swore and stood up, wiping frantically at his pants. But he made no move to. Daddy grabbed his robe off the door hook and pulled it on before leaving the bathroom.Making his way to the bedroom, he stopped at the doorway, peering into the dimly illuminated room. He would swear his heart actually skipped a beat when he realized why she wasn't downstairs. There his little girl was, curled up on his side of the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts. Quietly he went to the bed and gently sat beside her. He enjoyed just having some time to watch her. Reaching out he brushed a few. More

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