He didn’t bend down to pick it up.

“We don’t need to dig up the past today, Ona,” he said.

His voice was thin and dry, like hot air blowing out of an old floor furnace.

“It was just a question about our old neighbors from 1971,” I said.

“Some things were settled decades ago with proper counsel,” he said, his face going pale around the mouth.

“I found a bank draft from Tyler in Mother’s purse last night, I suppose,” I said.

Pastor Higgins took one step back onto the gravel.