Turns out he knows my mother and me,but I didn't remember him.Mr. Robertson was his name, and was a widower with grown k**s.He told me to put my bike...in the trunk and get in the car. Doing as I was told, I put the bike in the trunk and climbed in the car. He said he'd bring me to his house to get washed up and clean my clothes before I went home. When we pulled in the driveway Mr. Robertson said to go in the backyard so he could hose me down before going inside the house. He spraid me down,. When dinner was finished I started to gather up the plates but my father surprised me again by saying, "No, no, go rest."I did as I was told without a word but I couldn't stop wondering what was going through my father's head. Did he feel guilty? Was he trying to appease me, afraid I'd tell someone about what he'd done? Or was he being a legitimate, caring father who knew his daughter had gone through a lot and needed rest? I just didn't know.The next day was a Wednesday and I returned to. More

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