My Father Tossed a Blue Savings Passbook into the Mud at Cedar Ridge

He slid it onto a paper plate and pushed it toward me.

“Eat a piece of pie, Samantha.

You look too thin.”

I didn’t touch the plate.

The sweet smell of the cherries made my empty stomach cramp.

“Why are you really here?” I asked.

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket and laid it on the table next to the pie box.

It was a check from his personal First Horizon account.