Hearing Presley speak to my father that way took me by surprise, but hearing him snarl at her angered me. Whether I had agreed to her wanting to call him or not, she was simply trying to help me. She did not need his temper taking out on her. So, before he was even able to say anything in response to her, I came to her defense. “Do not snarl at her.” I snapped. “She is here trying to help, and does not deserve your anger.”
My attitude earned a raised brow glance from Presley, but my focus was more on my Dad who no doubt was currently fuming at the other end of the telephone. He did not like being disagreed with. And even less so, did he like being stood up to. There was a slight grunt of derision from him before he begun to talk. “Help?” My father’s tone was that same demeaning tone he s
