She held the door and walked me into their living room. Mr. Fowler was a bulldog of a man, about five foot ten, heavily muscled and no discernible ne...k. He looked like the kind of guy a professional fighter would choose for a body guard. He was standing by the fireplace, waiting, softly pounding a clenched fist on the mantle. His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. I decided to put the best face on the situation I could.“Good morning, sir,” I said stepping toward him with a hand. He knew that sometimes a boy needed space, especially when his dad was dying. He took his time.Harley had charged into the field next to the hospital. He was on his knees tearing up clumps of weeds and dirt and hurling them in all directions. He was angry. He finally had a dad, but his dad was going to die, and he was angry.Lonnie watched Harley from a distance and when the boy finally collapsed from exhaustion, Lonnie slowly walked over picked Harley up. Harley hugged Lonnie with all of his. More

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