"No," Ed said, backing away.
"Yes," she insisted, and handed it to him, poking at him with it until, reluctantly, he grabbed hold of the blade. "You've loved this thing for years, and you might as well have it. I've sold just about everything out of the house, and the realtor told me he may have a buyer for the place and the land." She stared blindly at the sunlight glinting off the hilt. "I don't want anything left, Ed. I don't want anything left at all."
She dropped it suddenly as though it had burned her. Ed grabbed for the hilt before it struck the ground, gripping the blade tighter, then cursing loudly as he dropped it. She bent, but he yawned her away, wiping his hand on his coat gingerly.
"Damn, woman," he said. "You want to call me lefty from now on?"
She grabbed at his wrist and turned the hand over. There was a deep crease across the palm.
"I'm fine," he said. "Stop fussing."
The ambulance pulled slowly away from the curb.
"Damnit, Cyd, what's the matter with you?"
The skin had been broken.
"Cyd?"
She watched, turning, the ambulance pick up speed. Her brother's face was in the back window.
"Cyd, listen, I just want you to know that I'll be waiting for you when you get back. I know it sounds like something Sandy would say, but damnit, I love you, and I'll be waiting when you get back."
On Ed's hand there was no blood . . .
"Cyd, I'll be waiting."
. . . and Rob was smiling.
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[Oxrun Station] The Last Call of Mourning Page 20
