"Did Grandma hurt you today?"
His son’s eyes went immediately to Danielle, and then away from her, to the floor, to the window over the sink where the dark backyard was. Marcus watched him do it and understood. He was not deciding whether to tell the truth. He was deciding whose side he was on, and he was eight years old, and he did not want to have to choose, and somebody had already made him promise.
"I was bad," Caleb said.
"Okay."
"I was really bad. I did a bad thing. She said so."
"Okay. We’ll talk about what you did. I promise we’ll talk about it. But that’s not what I asked you."
Danielle came around the island then. She did not crouch this time. She stood behind Caleb and put both hands lightly on his shoulders, and Marcus saw the effort it cost her to keep her hands light.
"It’s all right, baby," she said. "You can show Daddy. Daddy needs to see."
For a long moment nothing happened. Then Caleb turned around, slowly, so that his back was to Marcus, and bent down, and pulled up the left leg of his pajama pants to above the knee.