Sorrow's Crown Read Free Page B

shouldn't be, Crummler ," Broghin said. "Isn't that right? You should be at home. It's much too cold to be walking around. I think we've talked about that some before, too, haven't we?"
    "Yes," Crummler admitted. "We have talked. It is cold.”
    â€œDid you walk here?"
    "I did. For my boots fit well. I did!"
    "Why?"
    We'd all asked that question.
    "To see my friends!"
    Broghin had actually proven to be good with Crummler in the past, and did just as well now. He had a genuine appreciation for him, just as I did, because we were people devoted as much to the past as the present. I called it being moribund; Anna deemed it sentiment. Broghin probably put no name to his feelings, and for a man like him it was just as well. He smiled and touched Crummler gently, and even managed to put a melodic sort of giggle in his voice, bouncing on his toes to match the gravekeeper's dancing. They twirled in a circle for a moment and, leading the waltz, Broghin spun Crummler toward the door, through it, and outside into the police car. He drove off in no hurry, and I saw him put an arm around the gravekeeper , the way my father had done for me, and Oscar had been doing all through dinner. I felt very old in one respect, and too young in another.
    A couple of the children stared forlornly through the window, watching the car recede, and started to cry. The guy who'd lost his veal piccata said, "Somebody ought to shoot that psycho son of a bitch before he goes into a second grade classroom and takes over the school."
    "Lighten up a little," I said. "He doesn't cause any trouble."
    "He ruined my dinner!"
    "I'll pay for it."
    "You gonna pay for my wine, too?"
    "No."
    A thousand-yard stare came over him at the thought of his paying for his own liquor bill. "Somebody still ought to shoot the bastard."
    Oscar grinned and said, " Kinion's Hunting & Tackle, right on Fredrickson in Felicity Grove, you know where that is? Come on down to my store, I've got a rifle I can show you. A Springfield M-6 Scout, improved and updated from the original U.S. Air Force M-6 Survival Rifle, stainless steel construction, an optional lockable marine flotation." The smile dropped off, like it had never existed at any point in the history of his face. "Of course, it'll be butt stock first up against your peckerwood nose, you horse-faced ass."
    The guy stood and Oscar rose to his feet and Anna went, "Oh dear," the way she usually did when I was about to get into trouble. I found it deeply gratifying that I didn't initiate anything this time, and relished that fact for a moment. The guy with big teeth reached for a bottle of wine on his table, to either throw, drink from, or shatter on the edge of the table so that he could hold the jagged end like a knife. I found myself wishing that the moose and quail actually would go rampaging through the restaurant, anything but something like this. Anna deserved a better night out than this. So did Katie.
    I slid out of my seat and quickly slipped in front of Oscar, gliding forward until the horsey-faced guy swung around to confront me, grabbing the bottle like a club. Without really meaning to, and not completely in self-defense either, I just sort of ... slapped him, the way a girl would. It was the kind of silly slap that somebody would give while saying, "Oh, pooh."
    I looked at my hand and the guy looked at me, and Oscar stopped short, and you could feel the entire situation defuse in a heartbeat. The horsey-face laughed and shoved me away, sat down, poured himself another glass of wine, and started to eat his wife's dinner.
    ~ * ~
    In the parking lot, as we said our goodbyes, I thought Oscar was shaking my hand, but he had actually palmed something to me: a gym membership card. "They got this guy," he said, "used to be golden gloves, he can teach anybody to box. You should go see him."
    I wondered if, after all the death and blood of the last several years, I'd suddenly become afraid of ever hurting anybody again, and if