Seven Checks Left Untouched in a Cedar Desk Drawer

Editoron

“Are you coming in for dinner?” I asked, looking up at his quiet profile against the graying sky.

“Not tonight,” he said, adjusting the collar of his coat. “Your father and I finished our business for the day.”

He walked down the porch steps without looking back, his boots crunching on the gravel until he reached his truck.

Ezoic

I stayed on the swing, the wood cold beneath me, watching the dust from his tires settle back into the dirt.

My father did not look up from the financial section when I walked into the living room an hour later. The smell of his pipe tobacco hung heavy in the air, a sweet, cherry-flavored smoke that always made my throat feel dry.

“Ben was here again,” I said, standing by the mahogany sideboard.

Arthur looked over the top of his gold-rimmed reading glasses, his brow furrowing into three deep lines. He folded the newspaper twice, placing it precisely on his knees.

“Ben is a sensible young man,” he said, his voice carrying the dry weight of a courtroom. “He has been assisting me with some personal matters.”

“He won’t show me his ledger, and Mother is hiding the mail,” I said. “What is going on in this house?”

He took off his glasses, letting them dangle from the black cord around his neck.

“Some decisions are made to keep this house quiet, Cathy,” he said, his eyes drilling into mine. “You would do well to respect that.”

I turned toward the hallway, the silver ring on my finger digging into my palm as I clenched my fist.

Ezoic

My mother was in the hallway, carrying a stack of folded linen towels toward the closet. She didn’t look at me as she passed, her eyes fixed on the blank wall ahead of her.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes,” she said.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, but she had already closed the closet door, the latch clicking shut with a finality that made me shiver.

The air outside had turned sharp with the coming frost, carrying the damp scent of autumn leaves rotting in the shadows.

Rosie was standing near the withered stalks of the summer garden, her yellow sweater a bright spot against the graying fence. She pointed a stubby finger toward the hedge where a brown rabbit sat frozen under the brambles.