Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 09

by Prayers for the Dead

  He walked away. Hannah threw a pea at him. Rina said, “Hannah, enough.”

  Decker stood. “How about we set you up with a video, sweetheart?”

  “Silly Songs.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll do it.” Rina relieved Decker of the baby. As soon as Rina turned her back, Sammy gave Decker a questioning look. Decker put his finger to his lips. A few minutes later, Rina returned, sat down, and started eating.

  Sammy asked, “Are you all right, Eema?”

  Rina looked up. “I just wish you kids would act more respectful. What would your—” She shoveled mashed potatoes into her mouth, then abruptly got up and went into the kitchen.

  Decker said, “She’s had a hard day.”

  “Obviously.” Sammy looked at his dirty plate. “Why is she thinking about Abba? It’s not his yahrzeit.”

  Decker blew out air. Why did he get all the fun jobs? “She went to a funeral of a friend of his.”

  “A friend of Abba’s died?”

  “No, no.” Decker shook his head. Talk about Freudian slips. “His father died. The friend’s name is Abram Sparks.”

  Sammy thought a moment, shook his head. “Don’t remember him.”

  “He’s a priest.”

  “Oh…” Sammy sat up. “You must mean Bram. I remember Bram. He was a real nice guy.”

  “Who was?” Rina said.

  “Abba’s friend Bram.”

  Rina glared at Decker. He said, “You want to be mad, be mad. I think he’s entitled to know what’s going on, okay.”

  Rina barked, “Why don’t you just—…have some more pot roast.”

  Decker stifled a smile. “Thank you, I think I will.”

  Rina smiled and sat down. “Fine! So will I!”

  “You two are so strange sometimes,” Sammy said. “I know, I know. Honoring your parents. Kibud av v’aim. I’ll work on it. So Bram’s father died. That’s too bad. Should I send him a card or something?”

  Rina stared at her son as if he had uttered Greek. “That would be very nice, Shmueli. I think he’d like that very much.”

  To Decker, Sammy said, “He went with us to Disneyland for my…sixth birthday?”

  “What a memory you have,” Rina said.

  “Yeah, it was the high point of that year.” Sammy’s voice cracked. “You know, I always meant to ask you this, Eema. I remember having a fit because you wouldn’t let me have a hot dog.”

  “Yes, I remember that well.”

  “I mean, I really had a fit.”

  “Yes, you had a very big one.”

  “Then…like a couple hours later…after I forgot all about it…you got me and Yonkie…like a dozen hot dogs. Where’d they come from?”

  Rina’s eyes turned soft. “Bram went back into town and got them at the kosher deli.”

  Sammy said, “He went from Anaheim to L.A., then back again to Anaheim just for hot dogs? That’s like an hour-and-a-half trip.”

  “Closer to two and a half hours with traffic,” Rina said. “It was your birthday. He wanted you to be happy. If he had told me his plan, I would have said no. But he didn’t tell me. Just took the car and said he’d be back later.”

  She smiled.

  “I was furious with him for disappearing. I was left alone for over two hours with two very cranky boys. Demanding this and whining about that—”

  “We weren’t that bad,” Sammy said.

  “It wasn’t your fault. I was cranky, too. By that time, I was so exhausted, I just wanted to go home. Lunch had been long eaten and we were all starving. Bram was nowhere in sight. Then all of a sudden…”

  Rina let out a small laugh.

  “I see this guy walking toward us, wearing a cassock.”

  She laughed again.

  “You’re not allowed to bring food into Disneyland. Bram had changed into a cassock so he could conceal the hot dogs under his skirt. He figured no one would stop and frisk a priest. Even though he had grown an enormous stomach and was reeking of garlic.”

  “That’s right…” Sammy squinted, trying to recall the image. “That’s right. He was wearing normal clothes when we started out.”

  “I was ready to kill him,” Rina said. “But the sight of him walking toward us with this pregnant belly was so comical. He brought me into a corner, pulled out the hot dogs…like he was selling me drugs.” She paused. “I almost forgot to wash, that’s how hungry we all were. We ate and ate and ate and ate. Plus, we got real A-one treatment after that. The ride lines parted for us like the Red Sea. The boys were thrilled.”

  Decker said, “Respect for the clergy.”

  “Now I know why people impersonate police officers or priests. One woman there…” Rina laughed again. “She pulled Bram aside, told him she needed to make an on-the-spot confession. Nothing could dissuade her. Since Bram hadn’t taken his orders, he wasn’t allowed to hear confession. He didn’t know what to do.”

  “What’d he do?” Sammy asked.

  “I told him to hear her confession,” Rina said. “Then he should confess the sin later on at his own confession. He thought that was a good solution. Ah well…” Rina began clearing the table.

  Sammy said, “It was a fun day…you bought us Mickey Mouse pajamas.”

  “I’m impressed, Shmueli! Yes, I bought you Mickey Mouse pajamas. We stayed until the park closed. I hadn’t anticipated being there that late. Had to get you into something you could fall asleep in.”

  “Yeah, it was fun.” Sammy got up from the table. Kissed his parents. “Thank you, Eema, for dinner. I’ve got homework. Can I be excused?”

  Rina nodded, kissed him back. “You’re a good boy, Shmuel. I’m sorry I jumped on you.”

  “S’right.” Sammy kissed her cheek, then left the table.

  Decker took Rina’s arm. “Sit, honey. I’ll clear later.”

  “You want any more food?”

  “Goyishe food?”

  “Peter, I’m sorry.”

  He smiled, spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Next thing I know you’ll be making creamed chicken on toast points and lime Jell-O.”

  Rina scrunched her nose. “You really didn’t eat things like that, did you?”

  “Every church social had creamed chicken and lime Jell-O. I half-expected to see that kind of food at the Sparkses’ house. Being there, even under those circumstances, reminded me of home.”

  Rina paused. “Do you ever miss it?”

  “Miss creamed chicken and lime Jell-O?”

  “No, Decker. Miss what you left behind.”

  “I was very alienated from my church by the time you met me. Don’t forget, you weren’t my first Jewish wife.”

  “Why were you so alienated?”

  “I don’t know…independent spirit. Maybe I just didn’t like the attitude: that man was born a sinner. I could never accept the dogma that newborn babies were sinners. Then, after I found out about my Jewish roots, I became even more estranged. I find the Jewish concept much more livable despite the restrictions. That man was put here, not just to worship God in order to be saved but to do good deeds. It subscribes to the philosophy that man is basically good. Which is what I believe.”

  “After everything you’ve seen, that’s quite an endorsement of mankind.”

  “I’ve seen the worst. But I’ve also seen the best.” Decker smiled at his wife. “It was nice that you talked to Sammy about Disneyland. His memories are very important.”

  Rina nodded.

  “Sounds like you had a good time.”

  “Relatively speaking,” Rina said. “We stayed until the park closed, watching the electric light parade at midnight. I remember thinking how wonderful it was…how normal I felt.”

  She hesitated, her eyes watching a distant videotape. She returned her focus to the present.

  “Normal in a relative sense. Because there I was, a frum woman with two little boys wearing kipot and tzitzit, standing next to a priest in full religious regalia. Meanwhile, I had a husban
d dying at home. Rav Schulman had agreed to care for Yitzchak so I could take Sammy to Disneyland for his birthday. He actually asked Bram to go with me because he didn’t think I should be alone. You can imagine how bad off I was if Rav Schulman sent a goy to be my shomer—my guard.”

  Decker said, “Can I ask you how he and Yitzchak became friends?”

  Rina stared at her half-eaten dinner. “Bram was writing a book—interpreting the Chumash in a very Catholic way—which is what they do.”

  “The gentiles. Or should I say goyim?”

  “Goy is not a bad word, Peter. It means nation. It’s used with Jews as well.”

  “It’s just the way the Jews say it when they refer to gentiles. He’s such a goy—”

  “You’re teasing me. You’re only hurting yourself,” Rina chided. “You shouldn’t be interrupting me if you want to pump me.”

  Decker laughed. “Go on. Bram was writing a book on the Bible.”

  Rina organized her thoughts. “Bram was young and very brash. Apparently, he waltzed into Rav Schulman’s office one day and started asking him questions about the Talmud. Bram was lucky that he had picked Rav Schulman who treats everyone with kindness.”

  Decker nodded. “More than they deserve.”

  “Probably much more than Bram deserved. The Rav was patient. Rather than brushing him off—which almost anyone else would have done—the Rav struck a deal with him. There’s an eesur—a prohibition—against teaching Talmud to gentiles. The Rav got out of it by telling Bram that he’d be happy to answer his questions just as soon as Bram had mastered Chumash. Of course, Bram wasn’t anywhere near that level.”

  “A good dodge.”

  “A very good dodge.” Rina smiled. “But Bram was clever, too. He told Rav Schulman that he couldn’t possibly master Chumash to the Rav’s specifications because he didn’t know how we taught Chumash. So he needed a Chumash teacher. Rav Schulman couldn’t teach him personally, but he knew Bram wouldn’t give up. Bram was very persuasive, back then.”

  “I could tell.”

  “He was more than persuasive, he had the ability to manipulate words. The Rav recognized this right away. He decided to send Bram to one of his students, someone whose emmunah—whose faith—was ironclad and indisputable. So he sent him to Yitzchak.”

  “They hit it off right away?”

  “Not quite. Yitzy’s knowledge of Chumash was photographic—commentaries and all. Yitzy had a photographic memory about everything. But he had also been a ba’al koreh—a reader of the Torah. So he knew Torah—Chumash—comma by comma or rather, trupp by trupp. So along came Bram. At first, they just learned a little, went over a few basics. Yitzy was feeling him out, trying to ascertain Bram’s level…which he thought was pretty high for someone trained outside the system. Then slowly, slowly…I could almost see the wheels turning inside his brain…Bram started trying to put things over on Yitz. You know, showing off what he had learned, coming up with an obscure Jewish source, positive that Yitzy had never heard about it.”

  “Wrong approach?”

  “Very misguided. Yitzy would listen politely. Then he would quote the source letter perfect, and come back with more than a few of his own sources, gently showing Bram why he was misinformed, flooding him with information the poor guy wasn’t equipped to process. By the end of a month, Yitzy had unwittingly demolished him. Then they got along great. Because then, Bram was ready to learn.”

  Decker said, “One couldn’t have expected a Catholic seminary student to know as much Chumash as a yeshiva bocher. It wasn’t Bram’s main text.”

  “You’re right. I knew that. Yitzy knew that. Rav Schulman knew that. It just took Bram a little while to catch on. Anyway, they became very good friends. Even Yitzy didn’t realize how good a friend Bram was until he really needed him.”

  Indifferently, Decker said, “What happened with Bram’s book?”

  “Oh that!” Rina rolled her eyes. “He had a contract for it. Something like Messianic Teachings in the Old Testament, as they call it. Pretty offensive to a person of strong Jewish beliefs.”

  “Like Yitzchak?”

  “Like me. I read part of it. For me, it was as if he was playing exegesis games with our holy book and using it for his own purposes.”

  “But isn’t that what he believes?”

  “Absolutely. From Bram’s point of view, he was simply interpreting the Bible the way he had been taught. One thing I should make clear. Even with Yitzchak as his friend, Bram never wavered in his faith. Last time I saw Bram, he was just as strong a Catholic as he is today. But after learning with Yitzy, knowing him personally, knowing how the Catholic Church had persecuted Jews over the centuries, Bram had some misgivings about publishing his work.”

  Rina sighed, poured herself a glass of iced tea.

  “Somehow the powers in Rome got hold of the unfinished manuscript.”

  “Somehow they got hold of it?”

  Rina smiled. “You’re right. He probably sent it to them. Anyway, they thought it was a very scholarly work. About three, four months after Yitzy died, Bram was invited to the Vatican to complete two different versions of the book—one for the clergy, another more simplified version for the Catholic schools. He was also promised ordination by the Pope at St. Peter’s Basilica through some hotshot seminary in Rome…in those gorgeous gardens overlooking the city. Pontifical something. He called it ‘New Men’ for short.”

  “Ah, the power of power. Bram published the book.”

  “To Bram’s credit, he asked me what he should do.”

  “You told him to go ahead. He knew you would.”

  “Probably.” Rina paused a moment. “Yes, I told him to go ahead. I didn’t want the responsibility of stifling someone’s golden opportunity. Besides, as strange as this may sound, I knew the priesthood was his calling.”

  “Did you ever see him after he left for Rome?”

  “Yes. Apparently, he came back right after I took the family to New York for the summer. I almost stayed there permanently. Come to think of it, I never could figure out why I returned to L.A. All the men were in New York.”

  “Not all the men.”

  Rina grinned. “Obviously not all the men, darling.”

  Decker grinned back. “So you saw Bram after he came back from Rome.”

  “I did.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  “Nothing to tell. By then, he was an ordained priest. I took him to a kosher restaurant in the city. Boy, did we get stares.”

  “And that was that?”

  Rina squinted at her husband. “Yes, Peter. That was that.”

  “Sorry.” Decker held up his palms as if he were fending her off. “Sorry. Polite conversation between you two?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Can I ask what you talked about?”

  “Mostly, he talked about Rome, about the Vatican and the churches and the sculpture and the artwork and the gardens…the Ville D’este. He just went on and on about Italy. Like a travelogue. Stilted conversation. We were uncomfortable with each other.”

  Inwardly, Decker breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, you two didn’t have much in common, I guess.”

  “At that point, no.” Her smile was forced. “Anything else, dear?”

  “No.” Decker held back a grin. “Better quit while I’m ahead.”

  “Good advice for gamblers.” She kissed his lips this time. “Even better advice for curious spouses.”

  Wiping the dish, Rina thought about the Jewish concept of shalom bais, the keeping of marital peace. So important a tenet, a person was allowed to do everything in his or her power to keep home and hearth tranquil, even if it meant slight variations on the truth.

  Because “that” wasn’t exactly “that.”

  She had seen Bram one time after their stilted lunch. About a year later. Nothing had transpired between them, so why bother relating the incident to Peter. On some level, she knew it would have angered him. Needless to do such a thing…


  She stowed the dish in the cupboard, guilt gnawing at her gut as she thought back to their awkward meeting.

  Running into Bram at the local supermarket. Watching him from afar. He had been with a group of men—three or four of them, all wearing collars. They had been joking around, having a good time being young and free.

  Remembering Bram clearly, his hip cocked, his head thrown back with laughter, Rina hadn’t ever recalled him looking so happy. She didn’t approach him, almost walked away unnoticed. At the last minute, he spied her, excused himself, followed her one aisle over.

  They exchanged pleasantries. He spoke of his successes with Rome, of the recent publication of his book, of his new assignment as a residential priest over at the local church. A big church, he had told her. Prestigious. She was thrilled that he was doing so well and told him so. Holding back her own joy and rapidly beating heart until the time was right.

  Looking at him, breaking into a smile. She remembered herself speaking softly.

  “Bram, I think I met someone.” She looked down at her feet. “A policeman of all things.”

  When he didn’t respond right away, Rina felt her stomach drop. Finally, he said, “A cop…” He smiled with closed lips. “Doing your bit for public service?”

  Red-faced, she walked away, stung by his nastiness. Of course, he followed.

  Instead of lashing out, she rebuked him with guilt. “Of all the people I know, I would have thought you would have been the most happy for me.”

  “I’m elated,” he said flatly.

  Again she walked away. But he dogged her heels, held her by the arm. “This isn’t the right place to talk.” He blushed, dropped her arm. “Can you come by my place around eight tonight?”

  She stared at his face. “No, I can’t!”

  “When can you come by?”

  “Never—”

  “Rina—”

  “For goodness’ sake, Bram, you’re a priest. You know how people talk!”

  “I don’t care—”

  “But I do. I care for myself, I care for my friend. The cop. My bit for public service—”

  “Rina, I’m sorry. I loved Yitzy. It just seems so soon—”