Unreasonable Doubts

by Reyna Marder Gentin

Liana was thirty, and Deb was dying, and Jakob’s rejected proposal was nearly an afterthought.

  Two days later, early on Tuesday morning, Steven called to tell Liana that Deb had passed away during the night. She felt terribly empty, but the tears wouldn’t come. Before she did anything else, Liana called Jakob. She called him at home and on his cell and in the office, but she didn’t reach him. She left him messages all over. Each time, she said, simply, “Jakob, Deb is gone.”

  Liana called the rabbi and called Riverside for a second time, setting the funeral for noon on Wednesday at Sharon Gardens in Valhalla. After several more calls—to Steven, to Deb’s parents, to her own mother—Liana called Tony and dictated an email to send around to the office, notifying her colleagues of Deb’s death. “Before you send it out, please put me through to Gerry,” Liana said. It seemed the least she could do, and she knew that Deb wouldn’t want Gerry finding out through an email.

  The funeral was simple and dignified. The casket was brought out of the hearse to the open grave, carried by Deb’s three brothers plus Steven, Gerry, and his partner, Lars—an odd conglomeration, but Deb had some pretty wide-ranging friendships. Rabbi Nacht directed the pallbearers to stop seven times on the way to the grave. “We don’t rush the journey to the final resting place,” he said.

  Liana looked around the cemetery, the open grave seeming to wait patiently for Deb’s coffin to be lowered. She knew a few of the handful of people there. Deb’s parents had respected her wishes, and only her closest family and friends had been asked to come to the burial—the other people who loved her, maybe hundreds, would show up at her parents’ apartment to pay a shiva call over the next week. Deb’s parents sat stiffly on two chairs that had been placed close to the grave, where soon the rabbi would say words meant to comfort.

  Conspicuously absent were the attorneys from the office; only Liana and Gerry, now standing on opposite sides of the small clearing, represented that part of Deb’s life. All the frustration Liana had felt over the past year threatened to bubble over. She swallowed, trying to get rid of the bile, as Gerry approached her.

  “Liana,” he said quietly. “I know this isn’t the place to hash out our differences,” he began.

  “No, it isn’t,” she replied.

  “I just want you to know that I loved Deb deeply as a friend. I wouldn’t presume to compare our grief—I know how very close the two of you were. But this is a hard day for me too.”

  Liana looked at Gerry and saw the weariness and sadness in his eyes. She had known him to be arrogant and sometimes downright nasty—but his despair was raw.

  She reached out and touched his arm, the crisp cotton cool on her fingertips. “I know, Gerry,” Liana said. “I know.” He turned away from her and walked slowly back to where Lars was standing on the opposite side of the grave.

  When she looked up, she saw the rabbi looking at her, his kind question written in his slightly raised eyebrows. She nodded once.

  Yes, I’m okay.

  The rabbi said several prayers, and then Deb’s brothers spoke about their little sister. Deb’s parents held hands and cried while everyone else stood, grateful for the cool breeze on a warm May morning. When the rabbi asked if anyone else wished to speak, Liana stepped forward. She hadn’t prepared anything because she wasn’t sure she could get through it, but she was feeling surprisingly calm.

  “Deb wasn’t my closest friend, and she wasn’t my easiest friend. But she taught me a lot about many different things. She taught me that it’s good to have strong convictions but better to have enough discretion to know when they should be shared and when they should be kept to oneself. She taught me that to really live and really love, you have to let down your guard and let people in, even if it means that sometimes you get hurt or sometimes you lose the people you love. She taught me that friendship involves not the theoretical ‘being there’ that everyone talks about but the down and dirty—being there when it isn’t pleasant or when it goes against every fiber in your body. She taught me that it isn’t the length of your days that matters, although I so wish she’d had more time, but what you do with your days and whom you touch. And she taught me how to tie a scarf—well, at least she taught me how to tie this scarf,” she said, touching the beautiful silk around her neck, “and she taught me that the only appropriate place to wear sensible mom shoes is to a graveside funeral.”

  After Liana finished speaking, Rabbi Nacht began to sing the twenty-third Psalm, his voice so ethereal and soothing that even Deb’s parents stopped crying to listen. He sang in Hebrew and then translated: “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

  Afterward, the rabbi explained that in the Jewish tradition, the mourners, and not the cemetery workers, fill in the grave. He began himself, lifting several shovelfuls of the earth, which came crashing down on the wooden casket with a deafening thud. After Deb’s brothers took turns, Liana shoveled, Marta flashing through her mind as she lifted the heavy earth. She passed the shovel to Gerry, who began to scoop from the opposite side of the grave, standing precariously on the mound of dirt and quickly, forcefully, digging and lifting and depositing the earth into the hole.

  “Rabbi,” Liana said, “he’s going to fall in!”

  “No one’s falling in, Liana,” the rabbi said.

  And then Gerry fell into the grave. At first there was silence. And then everyone laughed.

  They laughed in a rush of released tension, and they laughed in horror. They laughed as they watched the rabbi pull Gerry out of the hole, and they laughed as they pondered whether Deb would have been mortified or amused. They laughed because it was funny. And they laughed because there could not be enough tears.

  CHAPTER 23

  It was late afternoon on the day of the funeral by the time Liana paid a shiva call at Deb’s parents’ apartment on the East Side. It was very crowded—Deb’s friends from Barnard and Fordham Law School and work, people she knew from the neighborhood, and relatives and friends of her parents and brothers were crammed into a smallish two-bedroom apartment. Liana could barely breathe. She looked around, unsuccessfully, for Max; among all the adults, he was hard to spot. She hoped he’d been whisked away by someone loving to somewhere quieter. She wondered how his three-year-old mind would begin to process his unfathomable loss and how much he would remember about Deb. A numbing exhaustion crept over her, and she stole away, taking the cross-town bus at Eighty-Sixth Street and then walking down to her apartment. The evening air revived her slightly.

  Liana was grateful to be home. She felt depleted, physically and emotionally. It had been too warm at the funeral for her black wool court suit, but it was the only one she had, and she’d wanted to look respectable. She hadn’t eaten much all day, afraid she would have trouble holding something down before going to the cemetery and repulsed by the platters of cold cuts and bowls of potato and macaroni salad that had covered the dining room table at the Levines’ apartment.

  Jakob still hadn’t called. She marveled that he’d managed to turn off his feelings for her so completely over the last few days that he could ignore an SOS from her like this. He hadn’t known Deb very well, so it wasn’t that Liana expected Jakob to be sad. But she did expect him to be sad for her—he knew how close she and Deb had become during the course of her illness. It was the first time in nearly five years that she hadn’t been able to rely on Jakob to support her, and the loneliness of that reality was piercing.

  Liana had just kicked off her shoes and opened the fridge to look for leftovers when there was a knock on the door. No one had buzzed from outside, so she figured it was either one of her neighbors complaining about the Carly Simon song she’d been blasting over and over again since she came home or a Chinese food delivery guy who couldn’t find the right apartment. She opened the door as far as
the chain would allow and looked out. When she saw his blue eyes through the opening, she gasped.

  “How did you find me?” she asked. She felt her throat constrict as her face flushed with heat.

  “You wrote to me from this address, Liana. Are you going to let me in, or am I going to stand out here all night?” Danny teased.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “My intentions are honorable, Counselor.”

  “Honorable, my ass,” she said, giggling despite herself.

  “Hey, you’re the one who brought your ass into this,” he answered. “Seriously, Liana, I need to talk to you. Just give me ten minutes.” His voice was calm and reassuring. Liana knew from an appeal she had worked on a couple of years before that it took only eight minutes to strangle someone to death. But Jakob was gone and Deb was gone and Danny was here.

  “Let me in, Liana, please,” he said, his tone firm and encouraging. She unlatched the chain and opened the door.

  Danny strode into the apartment. He surveyed the scene—Carly was belting out “Haven’t Got Time for the Pain,” one of Deb’s favorite songs, on a continuous loop, and Liana looked tired and slightly disheveled in the black suit he had seen her in once before. Without any preamble, he put his arm around her waist, drawing her close, and kissed her long and hard, possessively, on the mouth. It was a very different kiss from the one at the baseball game. She didn’t exactly kiss him back, but she didn’t exactly resist either. Then he stepped away, as if to slow everything down and savor this moment of unexpected success. Danny looked around the room for a moment until he located Liana’s phone, and he turned down the music.

  He held out the bottle of wine he had brought, showing her the label, a pricey Australian Shiraz.

  “Nice,” she said. Then Danny walked into Liana’s tiny kitchen and opened a couple of cabinets until he found her wineglasses. He took two down and set them on the counter.

  “Corkscrew?”

  “In the drawer to your left,” she said.

  Liana could feel Danny’s eyes on her as she took off her suit jacket and threw it over the back of a chair, revealing the off-white camisole underneath. She carefully untied Deb’s scarf and laid it on top of the jacket, drawing her fingers slowly over the silk. Danny handed her a glass of wine.

  “Why are you all dressed up? Were you in court today?” he asked.

  “Funeral,” she said. And then the tears that had refused to come all day began to flow.

  “Tell me,” Danny said, steering Liana to the big white couch in the living room and sitting down with her, his arm around her shoulders, refilling her wineglass when she emptied it and passing her Kleenex from a box he found on the floor.

  And she did. She told him about Deb and about their sometimes demanding friendship and her illness and how she couldn’t face work without her and about Steven and Max and the rabbi, and then she told him about work and Gerry.

  “You know, it was your case that helped me realize I still had the passion to do my job.”

  “I don’t want to talk about my case.”

  When they’d finished off the Shiraz, Danny disappeared into Liana’s kitchen again and found the bottle of merlot she had planned to drink with Jakob on Valentine’s Day before that evening had gone awry. He returned to the couch with her glass refilled and the rest of the bottle at the ready. And then Liana told him about Jakob. She talked for half an hour, coming up for air only to drink her wine and not noticing that Danny had stopped keeping pace. As she spoke, Danny drew her closer and closer, incrementally, until she was lying in his arms as they reclined together against the soft cushions, her head on his chest as he stroked her hair.

  “It’s okay now, Liana. I’m here,” he murmured. And then he lifted her chin toward him and kissed her lips, softly and languidly now, as though they had time to spare. The element of danger was more intoxicating than Liana would have predicted, and she felt her control slipping. Danny was strong and determined but gentle, and he smelled good, sweet and complex—something Liana couldn’t quite place, but she thought it might be roasted almonds. He kissed her forehead and her eyelids and her throat, and his hands wandered the length of her body. She gave in to the pleasure, shutting out the notes of protest her clouded mind tried to send. She felt so out of it that she had the fleeting thought that maybe he had spiked her drink.

  Danny deftly moved Liana onto her back, his hands underneath her cami. “Wearing a bra today, Counselor? What a shame,” he said as he expertly removed it with one hand without taking off her top—a trick Liana remembered learning in sleep-away camp when she was thirteen—and tossed it on the floor. He pulled off his own T-shirt, revealing a tiny, delicate lady-bug tattoo right above his heart. Liana absentmindedly traced its outline, marveling at the intricacy of the work. When she touched his skin, Danny moaned, his voice hoarse with desire.

  “The ladybug is for luck in love. And now I have you.”

  She knew she should say something to make him understand this wasn’t really happening, but she felt far away, and the words wouldn’t come. Carly was still crooning quietly in the background, and she could feel Danny’s weight on top of her as he caressed her breasts.

  The shock of his cool hands on her warm thighs as he reached under her skirt and pressed himself against her propelled Liana into a moment of lucidity.

  Liana whispered, “Stop.”

  “Hmm?” Danny said, his mouth on her neck.

  “I said stop,” Liana managed, her voice improbably gaining strength, some reservoir of self-preservation taking hold. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “You’re doing just fine, Liana.” His breath warm, his tongue in her ear.

  The whole room was beginning to spin. Liana knew instinctively that she had to appeal to the romantic, the gentleman in Danny while there was still a possibility of saving herself.

  “I’m begging you, Danny. You know I’ve always believed in you. Prove to me you are the man you say you are. Stop right now and walk out that door.” The extra heavy feeling that had come over her was getting worse, but Liana put every ounce of her energy into her words.

  Danny lifted himself onto his forearms and looked at Liana steadily. And then he slowly rolled off her and sat up on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands.

  “Oh, Liana.” After a moment, he picked up his shirt, put on his shoes, and stood up. He walked to the door and opened it to let himself out.

  “Come put the chain on, Liana,” he said softly. She made her way painstakingly to the door and locked it behind him. She got back to the couch before she collapsed.

  Liana was essentially unconscious for twelve hours. When she woke up the next day, it was after ten in the morning. She thought about showering and going in to the office, but she just didn’t have the strength. And while she had a vague recollection that the couch she was lying on had been the scene of something scandalous involving Danny Shea, she couldn’t remember any of the specifics. She was glad to find she was still mostly dressed, although more than a little alarmed to see her purple bra lying on the floor next to two wineglasses and two empty wine bottles.

  She had been so out of it that she hadn’t heard her telephone ring, and she was surprised to see the message light flashing. She pressed the playback button.

  “Hi, Liana. It’s Tony. Just checking on you to see if you’re okay and if you’re coming in today. Give a call when you have a chance.” Beep.

  “Good morning, Liana. It’s Gerry. I see you’re not here today, and I totally understand. It was a very difficult day yesterday, even though we all knew it was coming. I thought your rabbi did a lovely job with the service. I hope he wasn’t too disturbed by what happened. I guess my balance isn’t as good as it used to be. But I did provide some comic relief! Anyway, just wondering when you might have a draft of Gillian Black done. I’m hoping to take a few extra days of vacation around Memorial Day, and I think it would be good for you if you can get this filed soon—
I know you’re kind of behind on quota. So think about it, and maybe we can talk tomorrow.” Beep.

  “Liana, it’s Jakob. I’m really sorry that I couldn’t get back to you yesterday. I was out of town with Frank on the case, and I managed to leave my cell phone in the taxi we took from the airport—I guess I’m a little out of sorts. I didn’t check my other voicemails until I got home this afternoon. I’m terribly sorry to hear about Deb. If you need me, please don’t hesitate to call.” Beep.

  The formality of Jakob’s message made Liana impossibly sad, and she saw no point in calling him. She wasn’t sure when the last time was that she had eaten, and she was still feeling pretty woozy. Finding the leftover quesadilla from her birthday in the fridge, beans and cheese congealed in an unappealing mess, she ate it on the couch, cold. Then she got back into bed and collapsed again.

  CHAPTER 24

  When Liana came into the office on Friday morning, she was overcome with a sense of doom. The finality of Deb’s absence was overwhelming, even though her friend hadn’t physically been in the office for months. She was relieved to see that Bobby had taken the day off—at least she wouldn’t have him to contend with while she tried to get her head together. Her draft on the Gillian Black case awaited her, but the thought of dealing with Gerry almost sent her home again.

  She was distractedly flipping through her emails from the days she had been out of the office when a new one popped up on her screen.

  Liana—call me ASAP. Randy.

  She dialed his number as she thumbed through the client mail on her desk.

  “Napoli,” he answered on the third ring.

  “Hi, Randy. It’s Liana Cohen. What’s up?”

  “Liana. Thanks for getting back to me. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Your guy got arrested again on Wednesday night. I’m doing a story for Monday’s paper.”

  “Which one of my guys?” she asked. But this time, she already knew the answer.