Grave Endings

by Rochelle Krich

  I talked to Connors this morning. He’s having a hard time proving what is spite and what is truth, though we both believe that Horton killed Randy. Jason says he told his father Randy was to blame for his drug addiction, and maybe that’s what drove Horton that night, though he won’t admit to anything. He has his own high-profile attorney, one whose face you’ve also seen on Larry King. But Connors is smart. He has a lead on Doreen, and Jason does have an alibi for the night Randy was killed, although he wasn’t keen on his wife’s finding out her name.

  Jason says he never intended to kill Aggie. He followed her to reason with her after she turned down an offer from Horton, much like the one he made me. I’ll pay these women, I’ll write a check to any institution you want. Jason was stoned that night, and when Aggie wouldn’t talk to him, he became enraged and before he knew it, she was in his car, the knife was in his hands, and she was dead.

  Horton’s Mercedes, by the way, is a black SUV. Horton claims he was working late in his office the night I was on Arroyo Seco, and that Jason had borrowed his car all day.

  Bubbie G says no one has a monopoly on regret.

  I haven’t talked to Bramer and probably won’t. My guess is that he has had many sleepless nights over the past six years about Iris and Aggie and the things he didn’t want to think about when Aggie was killed.

  I imagine that Sue Ann, despite what she told me, wonders how much she is to blame for the way Randy turned out. And Alice may have a twinge or two about the advice she gave, though I suspect she wishes there were thousands of miles, not fifteen, between San Marino and Culver City. I don’t plan to tell Roland Creeley about his ex-wife, and Connors doesn’t see why it would come up. I doubt that Sue Ann will suddenly develop an interest in meeting her grown-up daughter, or that Trina will decide that she’d like to meet her mother, though you never know. Trina’s back in her apartment, with a new lock on her door.

  I wish everything could be fixed that easily.

  Jason’s arraignment is tomorrow morning. Connors asked if I was going to be there, but I told him I’d pass.

  I’m getting married.

  forty-eight

  Wednesday, March 3. 7:15 P.M. 100 block of South La Peer Drive. A woman reported that unknown suspects threw several glasses over her bushes, nearly hitting her. (Wilshire)

  I HAD TO SEND MY DAD BACK TO MY APARTMENT TO PICK up the gold cuff links I would give Zack after the ceremony, in the private room where we would break our fast and share our first kiss, not necessarily in that order. Mindy thinks Zack is giving me pearl earrings because he asked her if I had a pair.

  And the plate my mother had picked up at the 99 Cents Store wouldn’t break. My mother and Sandy, Zack’s mother, had slammed it repeatedly, with growing frustration, against the corner of a table in the room where our fathers and two witnesses had just signed the betrothal agreement.

  “Raul brought a hammer, tied with a bow,” my mother said when she resumed her seat next to me on the elevated platform in the reception hall.

  The breaking of the plate, like the breaking of the glass under the chuppa, is a reminder of our grief over the destruction of both Holy Temples, a reminder that even the happiest occasions have echoes of sadness. Early Tuesday morning, my parents and I visited the graves of Zeidie Irving and my father’s parents and invited their souls to the wedding. I placed a pebble on Aggie’s headstone, just a few rows away from Zeidie’s, and invited her soul, too. And inside the white leather-bound book of psalms I now held on my lap was a small sheet of paper with the handwritten names of individuals who needed prayers. People who were ill, others who yearned for children or mates. A bride’s prayers, I have been told, have a unique potency.

  I was surrounded by family. My mother, my sisters and sister-in-law, Bubbie G. My mother-in-law, Zack’s aunts and mine. My nieces sat cross-legged at our feet, their tulle gowns mushrooming around them. The room was crowded with guests, most of whom had come up to wish us mazel tov before helping themselves to hors d’oeuvres. Ron was there, too, with a statuesque blonde. I saw Isaac, proud in his new suede yarmulke. And the Lashers.

  I have come to accept that I will never know why Aggie didn’t confide in me. Maybe, as Connors said, I had put her on a pedestal. Maybe six years ago she didn’t want to complicate my fragile return to Orthodox observance. Maybe she knew I would have tried to talk her out of doing what she felt was right.

  The photographer and videographer were busy capturing memories that Zack and I would enjoy long after the evening was over. I was compiling my own. The swelling of my heart as I saw Zack, escorted by our fathers and a jubilant entourage of men and boys. His whispered “I love you” and the tender look in his eyes before he lowered my veil. My father’s tears, and mine, as he placed his hands on my head and blessed me. The sweet strains of “Adon Olam” as Zack’s parents walked him down the aisle to the outdoor chuppa and helped him slip on his white kittel.

  It was a day of joy and solemnity, a day of atonement for both of us. New beginnings. Earlier today I had recited the Yom Kippur confession. Last night I submerged myself in the rainwaters of the mikvah, the ritual bath. Now I was under the chuppa, a symbol of the home Zack and I would build. His family’s heirloom white satin tallit, luminous against the darkening sky, billowed above us. Guided by my mother and Sandy, I walked around Zack seven times, forming the walls that would complete our home, the same number of circuits, I realized, that I had made as I wound my red thread around Rachel’s Tomb.

  We stood side by side, suddenly shy, sobered by the import of the moment as the rabbi, Zack’s mentor, who had flown in from Israel, recited two blessings over a silver goblet filled with wine. Zack took a sip of the wine, and my mother lifted my veil so that I could take a sip, too. Then Zack placed a simple gold ring on the index finger of my right hand and recited the blessing in Hebrew.

  We were married.

  We gazed at each other while the rabbi of my parents’ shul read the ketubah in its original Aramaic and handed it to me. Seven more blessings, more wine. Now my mother-in-law raised my veil. Then Noah and Judah sang, “If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem.” Zack stomped on the glass someone had placed under his foot, and everyone yelled, “Mazel tov!” as the band burst into song.

  Zack took my hand. He held it tight as we walked down from the chuppa and made our way through a throng of family and friends who showered us with kisses and beamed their joy.

  I wished Aggie were here.

  Edie asked me yesterday if I feel better knowing why. I told her I do. I will never get over Aggie’s death, but I take some comfort knowing she wasn’t mugged for a locket and the contents of her wallet.

  But if I could, I would rewind the video of her life and make some edits. I would cut the scenes where she meets Randy and Horton, and probably the scenes with Iris, too. I would stop her from walking up the stairs to Jason’s room.

  The truth is, I’m not sure Aggie would want those edits. The rabbi at her funeral said she was like Rachel, and maybe he was right. Rachel, who stole Laban’s idols to wean him from his idolatry, and hid them in her tent before moving them to her camel’s saddlebags when he came searching. Rachel, who didn’t tell her husband what she’d done, and died in childbirth because Jacob had sworn to a furious Laban that whoever had stolen his idols would die.

  If Rachel hadn’t stolen the idols, if she had told Jacob. If Aggie hadn’t urged Iris to go to the police, if she hadn’t stolen the tapes . . .

  If Jason Horton hadn’t been the man he was . . .

  Not God’s plan, my father had said. Man’s plan.

  I think now that God watched Aggie as she walked from her car on that July night.

  I think He turned His head away, because He couldn’t bear to see what He knew would happen.

  I think He cried.

  Glossary of Hebrew and Yiddish Words and Phrases

  Adar (noun, a’-dar, or a-dar’). The Jewish month in which Purim falls, known for celebration.

  “Ad
on Olam” (noun, a-don’ o-lam’). A daily prayer, often sung. Literally, “Master of the Universe.”

  Amidah (noun, a-mi’-dah). A daily prayer composed of eighteen blessings. aufruf (noun, auf’-ruf). The calling up of the groom to the Torah, usually on the Sabbath before the wedding.

  ayin harah (noun, a’-yin ha’-rah). Evil eye.

  Az me laigt arein kadoches, nemt men arois a krenk (Yiddish proverb, az me laigt a’-rein ka-do’-ches, nemt men a-rois’ a krenk). If you invest in a fever, you’ll realize a disease.

  Baruch Dayan ha’emet (phrase, ba-ruch’ da-yan’ ha-e-met’). Blessed be God, the Righteous Judge. Recited when one hears that a person has died.

  bashert (noun or adjective, ba-shert’). Destiny, or destined.

  Bedeken (noun, ba-deck’-en). Ritual before the wedding ceremony during which the groom lowers the bride’s veil.

  bentch gomel (verb, bentsch go’-mel). To recite a prayer of gratitude in synagogue after surviving a dangerous journey, illness, or accident.

  bima (noun, bi’-ma). Elevated platform on which the Torah scroll is placed for the reading.

  bli ayin hara (bli a’-yin ha’-ra). A phrase to ward off the evil eye.

  bubbie (noun, bub’-bee). Grandmother. Also, bubbeh, babi, babbi.

  challa (noun, chal’-la or chal-la’). Braided loaf of bread. Plural is challot (chal-lot’) or challas (chal’-las).

  chesed (noun, che’-sed). [Acts of] loving-kindness.

  Chevra Kadisha (noun, chev’-ra ka-di’-sha). A community organization that prepares a body for burial.

  chossen (noun, chos’-sen). Groom. Also, chattan (chattan’).

  chuppa (noun, chup’-pa). Wedding canopy.

  davened (verb, past tense, da’-vened). Prayed.

  gleyzele (noun, diminutive, gle’-ze-le). A small glass.

  greeneh (noun, green’-eh). Newcomer, immigrant. (Colloquial).

  Halevai (phrase, ha-le-vai’). I wish that it were so.

  hamantaschen (noun, ha’-man-ta’-schen). Traditional Purim three-cornered cookies filled with poppy seeds, prune butter, or apricots. Literally, Haman’s pockets.

  Hashem (noun, Ha-shem’). God.

  Hashem feirt der velt (Yiddish saying). God rules the world.

  kenehoreh (ke-ne-hor’-eh). A frequently used phrase that is an elision of keyn ayin horeh (kān a’-yin ho’reh). Let there be no evil eye. Also, kenayn-e-horeh (ke-nain’-e-hor’-eh).

  kiddush (noun, kid’-dush or kid-dush’). A prayer recited over wine at the beginning of a Sabbath or holiday meal. Also used to refer to refreshments served after synagogue services on the Sabbath or other Jewish holidays.

  kittel (noun, kit’-tel). A white ceremonial robe worn by married males on Yom Kippur and Passover. Males are also buried in it. YIVO spelling is kitl. Plural: kitlen, or colloquially, kittels.

  kugel (noun, ku’-gel). A puddinglike dish, usually made of vegetables (like potatoes or onions) or noodles.

  loshon horah (noun, lo’-shen ho’reh). Slander, gossip. Also, lashon harah (la-shon’ ha-rah’).

  maksim (adjective, mak-sim’). Enchanting.

  mazel (noun, ma’-zel). Luck; often used in a phrase, mazel tov, wishing one good luck or congratulations at a celebration or happy occasion. Alternate spelling: mazal (ma-zal’) tov.

  mechitza (noun, me-chi’-tza). Partition used in a synagogue or hall to separate men and women.

  Mishpatim (noun, mish-pat’-im; mish-pat-im’). Literally, laws. A portion of the Torah.

  mitzvah (noun, mitz’-vah or mitz-vah’). Positive commandment. Plural, mitzvot (mitz-vot’); colloquial plural, mitzvos (mitz’-vos).

  naches (noun, na’-ches). Proud pleasure, special joy, as in one’s child’s accomplishments.

  nachon (adjective, na-chon’). Correct.

  nehedar (adjective, ne-he-dar’). Gorgeous, marvelous, superb.

  onen (noun, o’-nen). Term used to describe someone who has just learned of a close relative’s death. He or she retains this status until the funeral, and during this period does not perform any religious commandments, e.g., praying, reciting blessings.

  Pesach (noun, pe’-sach). Passover.

  Rachel mevaka al baneha (phrase, ra-chel’ me-va-ka’ al ba-ne’-ha). Rachel is weeping over her children. From Jeremiah 3:15.

  seder (noun, se’-der). Feast held on the eve of the first day of Passover commemorating the Exodus from Egypt. Plural, sedorim, or colloquially, seders. Orthodox Jews living outside of Israel observe a second seder on the eve of the second day of Passover.

  Shabbat (noun, Shab-bat’). Sabbath.

  Shabbat Kallah (noun, shab-bat’ kal-lah’). The last Sabbath before a bride’s wedding; a festive day on which the bride’s friends and family come to her house to celebrate with her. Variation, Shabbos Kalleh (shab’bes kal’-leh).

  Shabbos (noun, shab’-bes). Sabbath; also, Shabbat.

  sheitel (noun, shei’-tel). Wig.

  sheitel macher (noun, shei’-tel ma’-cher). Wig maker, or stylist.

  shidduch (noun, shid’-duch). Arranged match between a man and a woman.

  shiva (noun, shiv’-a or shiv-a’). Literally, seven. The seven days of mourning for a deceased relative.

  shul (noun). Synagogue.

  siddur (noun, sid-dur’ or sid’-dur). Prayer book.

  simcha (noun, sim’-cha, sim-cha’). Joy, or happy occasion, e.g., a birth, bar mitzvah, wedding. Also, simcheh (sim’-cheh).

  tallit (noun, tal-lit’). Prayer shawl. Variation is tallis (tal’-lis).

  tefillin (noun, te-fil’-lin; te-fil-lin’). Phylacteries; black boxes containing verses from the Scriptures that males use in daily prayer.

  teshuvah (noun, te-shu’-vah or te-shu-vah’). Repentance.

  Torah (noun, to’-rah or to-rah’). The Bible; also, the parchment scroll itself.

  yarmulke (noun, yar’-mul-ke). Skullcap. The Hebrew is kippah (kee’-pah or kee-pah’).

  yeshiva (noun, ye-shi’-va or ye-shi-va’). A school of Jewish study.

  Yom Kippur (noun, yom kip’-pur or yom ki-pur’). Jewish Day of Atonement.

  Za nisht kayn k’nacker (phrase, za nisht kayn k’-nock’er). Don’t be a big shot (show-off, know-it-all).

  zeidie (noun, zā’-die). Grandfather; also, zeidi, zeide, zeideh, zaydie.

  zemirot (noun, ze-mi-rot’; plural of ze’-mer). Songs usually sung during Sabbath or holiday meals.

  A Reader’s Guide for GRAVE ENDINGS

  What do Madonna, Britney Spears, and I have in common? Not our singing careers, although as a teen I fantasized about being a Broadway star. And definitely not our wardrobes. I’m more PTA than MTV.

  What we do share is a fascination with the kabbalistic red thread that allegedly protects against envy. Snipped from a skein that has been blessed after being wrapped seven times around Rachel’s Tomb in Bethlehem, the thread is typically worn around the wrist, and has been made fashionable by Madonna and Britney and other celebrities.

  I’ve heard stories about the thread’s mystical powers. I tied one around the slats of the crib used by my six children. I tied segments around their wrists (and mine, and my husband’s) at our sons’ bar mitzvahs. Then, eight years ago, we had our own story. Minutes before our second son walked down the aisle, all of us in the wedding party tied red threads around our wrists. Somehow, my oldest son’s fiancée wasn’t aware that she’d lost hers. Immediately after the ceremony, she fell and sprained her ankle.

  Was that coincidence? Or, in losing the thread, had she lost its protection?

  I decided the red thread would make an interesting motif for a novel. And the more I read about the thread and its recent popularity—it’s available on websites and, apparently, at your local Target—I wondered whether people were buying spiritual protection . . . or spiritual snake oil.

  I also wanted to explore Molly’s excitement and uncertainty about her impending marriage to her rabbi fiancé; her guilt and anguish regarding her best friend Aggie’s mur
der six years ago; her seesawing emotions when, two weeks before the wedding, she’s confronted by evidence that the police believe finally leads to Aggie’s killer; her determination, despite her family’s concern, and her fiancé’s, to find Aggie’s killer.

  Ultimately, I wanted to write a story that examines shades of guilt and innocence, and the healing power of redemption.

  Discuss the title, Grave Endings, as it applies to the characters in the novel.

  Molly is Orthodox—she is strict about keeping kosher and keeping the Sabbath—but she has qualms about being a rabbi’s wife. She isn’t thrilled with the idea of covering her hair, which she will do for Zack, or lengthening her skirts and sleeves, which fall short of Orthodox rules of modesty. And she isn’t always “modest” in expressing her opinions.

  Do you see Molly as a rabbi’s wife—in terms of her temperament and her appearance? Do you feel that it is unrealistic for someone to take on a lifestyle that will be filled with daily challenges? Does “love conquer all”?

  Do you think Molly’s family and Zack have valid concerns about her preoccupation with the investigation into Aggie’s murder? Could Molly have handled things better? Should she have postponed investigating the murder?

  None of the major kabbalists wore red threads. Despite that fact, thousands of people today still wear the thread to ward off the malignant power of envy. Why do you think that’s so? What are your views about the red thread? Is there danger in believing in its power or in other amulets?

  One of the motifs of Grave Endings is our responsibility toward others. Are we our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers? And if so, to what extent? What happens when responsibility toward others conflicts with our own needs or desires? Our safety?