Cat Melvin

Henry sighed and tugged at the ring on his left hand. Holding his gloves awkwardly between thumb and forefinger he worked the gold band over his swollen knuckle, hands cold and clumsy from standing in the predawn chill.

"Well, Emma, it’s time."

"I know, love."

"Doesn’t seem right, doin’ this. Always thought I’d be buried wearin’ this ring."

"You know we discussed this, Henry. It’ll be best for you and for me. It’s time for both of us to move on."

"Emma . . ."

"You have that exhibit in the City next week. Your portraits, that Then and Now series, will be a smash hit, just you wait and see."

"Em . . ."

"Have I ever been wrong about these things?"

"Emma, love, just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you’re always right."

"I was always right, Henry, even when I was alive."

"Hmm. You sure you know what you’re doin’—what we’re doin’—this time?"

"Henry James, you just take that ring and pitch it!"

Henry held the ring up to the just-visible arch of the sun and squinted at the gold glinting faintly between his fingers. Walking to the middle of the small curved bridge over the stream where it entered the partly frozen pond, he lifted his arm. With a free underhand swoop he slung the small metallic treasure—releasing it at the last possible moment—toward the sunbeams tearing his eyes.

Without waiting to see where it fell, Henry James, husband to Emma for 32 years and widower for 3, turned and walked through the snow toward the park entrance.

Unseen, Emma moved out from the sunlight, ring caught tightly in her hand. Smiling lovingly at her husband’s back, she thought of Dorothy, the widow he’d meet next week at the uptown gallery displaying his photos. Dorothy would recognize a picture of her mother and herself as a young girl. The conversation she started with Henry would lead to dinner after the exhibition and to…

Well, who knew exactly what it might lead to. Smiling roguishly, Emma tossed the ring up and caught it, whistling. Turning back toward the pond, she walked over the ice and still-open water into the sunrise.