Posted: Oct 8, 08 7:01pm

Molly dipped her hand into the water of the fish pond as the evening settled around her. She had been dreading this moment for three months, knowing it would come after Dale died, full of pain and morphine. Martin stood with brown wingtips planted in the grass, dew just beginning to wet the cuffs of his slacks. Molly looked up at his eyes, watching the evening sky ripple in the reflection of the pool. She said, “It would seem disloyal now that he is gone.”

Molly knew that puzzled shake of the head, as he said, “disloyal,” and walked away.