“But—”
“Just
She started to hang up the phone, then just dropped the receiver on the floor and trotted into the bathroom. This time, she was careful not to step on Neal’s hand.
He eased himself across the floor, to the bed, and propped his back up against it. As he did this, he did not take his eyes off the crib. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and the baby as possible.
Annie came back into the room carrying a frayed navy blue bath towel that his mother had given him for his dorm room at college. Neal started to take it from her but she pushed his hand away. She wiped up the blood on the floor, then carefully took hold of Neal’s ankle. After patting the sole of his foot dry, she began to wrap the towel around and around the wound.
Neal stared past her, at the bloody tennis trophy. “How did it get on the floor?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t
“No, I don’t.
“I know you didn’t do it,” Neal said. His eyes focused on the crib. “That goddam baby did it.”
Annie gasped. “
“You heard me.”
Annie stared at him. “You’re crazy.” She finished wrapping the towel around his foot and tucked the end in neatly.
Neal felt himself becoming more and more angry. “I just saw that baby—
Annie looked at Neal as if she couldn’t decide whether to feel sorry for him or to be afraid. She stood up and went over to the crib. Neal sat up straighter as Annie leaned over the wooden contraption. His heart started to pound. Neal wasn’t sure he
“How’s my wittle baby?” Annie cooed softly, picking Natasha up. The child’s eyes were shut (thank God) and she was asleep, or at least pretending to be asleep. But Neal noticed something else that made him lean forward even more.
“Look!” he said, pointing at Natasha. “There’s blood on her forehead.”
Annie inspected the baby’s face, then wet one finger and wiped the red droplets away.
“See! I told you. That proves it, Annie.”
She put Natasha over her shoulder again and turned towards Neal. “It proves what?”
“That she...put...the trophy over there.” Neal pointed towards a spot on the floor where he thought the trophy had been when he stepped on it. He had hesitated over the word “put” because he couldn’t envision how Natasha could have actually done it.
Annie sadly shook her head. “You’re in shock, Neal.” She kissed Natasha’s sleeping face and set the baby gently back in her crib.
“I am not in shock,” Neal said, glaring at his wife. “I know exactly what happened.”
“I do, too,” Annie said.
“What do you mean?” Neal said, though he thought he knew what she was going to say. He grimaced as another wave of pain welled up in his foot.
“You left your stupid trophy on the floor and stepped on it.”
“I did not!”
“Yes you did. And now you’re trying to blame it on a little baby, the same way you did when
