The closed bedroom door.
The white cloth.
His trembling hands.
And the words I had overheard.
Robert sat down beside me.
“Sarah, I know what you’ve been thinking about me.”
I lowered my head.
He continued.
“When I noticed the first bruise, I thought maybe it was an accident. But then I started checking Emma every day. I wrote down where new bruises appeared and took photographs so I could show them to a doctor.”
“And the white cloth?”
“It was a wet washcloth. Emma was crying that day, and I was simply wiping her face.”
“Then why did you keep hiding her from me?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Because every time you saw me holding her, you looked frightened. I knew you thought I was responsible. I was afraid you’d take Emma away before we could find out what was happening.”
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook.
