“Crying.”
Her voice dropped.
“He is two months old.”
“I know how old he is.”
“Then what did you do?”
Thomas looked toward the hallway.
“I was trying to get him dressed.”
I felt my pulse in my throat.
Ellie said, “Thomas.”
He shut his eyes.
“He kept screaming and twisting.”
The sentence seemed to take all the air out of the room.
Then he finally said it.
“I held him down.”
Ellie’s lips parted.
Thomas rushed on.
“Just for a second. I had my hand across him because he kept moving.”
“Across his stomach?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
That silence answered for him.
Ellie backed away.
Thomas reached toward her.
She recoiled before he touched her.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
There it was.
Not the bathtub.
Not an unexplained mark.
Not some mystery hidden beneath a onesie.
Thomas had pressed Mason down while the baby was crying, hard enough to leave the marks I had seen.
