Seven Checks Left Untouched in a Cedar Desk Drawer
Her fingers seemed thicker than they had last week, her movements slower as she pressed the paring knife through the skin.
She stopped, reached into the pocket of her oversized cardigan, and pulled out a small blue cardboard book with gold lettering on the cover.
“My book,” Rosie said, her voice rising at the end of the sentence. “My very own book.”
“Is that a savings account, Rosie?” I asked, leaning closer across the oilcloth table.
She flipped it open for a brief second, just long enough for me to see rows of neat blue ink, before she slapped it shut against her palm.
“For the babies,” she said, nodding quickly. “Safety money. My safety money.”
“Who gave it to you, Rosie?” I asked, reaching out to touch her hand.
She slid the blue book back deep into her pocket and clapped her hands against her cheeks, her face flushing pink.
“Ben says it is ours,” she said. “Only ours.”
“Does Father know about that book?” I asked.
She did not answer, her attention drifting back to the apple on the cutting board.
She rubbed her right ankle with her left foot, her brow furrowing slightly as she sighed.
“My socks are too tight today,” she whispered. “Too tight.”
I looked down and noticed the deep red impression the elastic had left in her pale skin, her ankles looking swollen and heavy.
At the corner market on Elm Street, the scent of bruised pears and wet sawdust always lingered near the checkout.
I was holding a carton of milk near the dairy case when Helen Vance stopped her metal cart next to mine.
She adjusted her green wool scarf, her eyes moving over my face with a look that made me immediately pull my shoulders back.
“Cathy, dear, I saw your father at the county courthouse yesterday morning,” Helen said, leaning in close enough for me to smell her lavender soap.
“Oh?” I said, keeping my voice light.
“He was in the probate clerk’s office, signing those final guardianship papers for Rosie,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I suppose it is best to have it all official now that she is expecting.”
I felt a cold sensation in my chest, but I kept my fingers steady on the milk carton.
“Yes,” I said, forcing a small smile. “We wanted to get the paperwork settled before the winter.”
“It is a heavy thing, legal guardianship,” Helen said, patting my arm with her gloved hand. “But Arthur always did know how to handle the administrative side of family.”
