Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

“Very interesting.”

“Pretty esoteric, huh?”

“I feel like I’m back with Yitzy. No wonder you two got along so well. You both spoke the same intellectual language. Left us mere mortals in the dust.”

“Hardly. Whenever you chose to grace us with your presence during one of our many long-winded diatribes, I recall you holding your own quite nicely. That is whenever we piggish males allowed you to get a word in edgewise.”

“You’re pushing seventy-five on the speedometer, Father. Can you please slow down?”

The priest hit the brakes, became somber. “Yitzy was a great teacher, Rina. Better for me than Rabbi Schulman because I wasn’t inhibited with him. I could make mistakes without feeling dumb. And, I did make mistakes. Here I was, a classic language major with a minor in biblical languages, and I couldn’t hold a candle to a high school yeshiva boy.”

“There’s nothing like learning a language as a child.”

“I found that out. Yitzy and I were about a year apart in age. His fluency in the Hebraic texts astounded me. I was humbled rather quickly. It was a pleasure to learn with him.”

“You know, Bram, I’ve always wondered why you became a parish priest as opposed to an academic. I’d always figured you’d wind up teaching at Notre Dame or some other university. You’ve got a professor’s mentality.”

The priest was quiet. Then he said, “I think Yitzy’s death knocked the intellectual fire out of me. Afterward, I wanted to do some actual good in the world, make a difference on a human level. Be a real priest.”

He smiled, but his eyes had misted.

“This sudden, terrible loss…meeting your new husband…seeing you…it evoked all sorts of old feelings. I miss Yitzchak, Rina.” He paused. “I miss you.”

A long pause. Silence except for the car’s elderly straining gears.

Rina said, “I’m not dead.”

Bram smiled. “Thank God.”

“You could call. I do have a phone.”

“It would be awkward.”

Rina knew that was true enough. She didn’t answer. He tapped the wheel. “What am I doing…running off at the mouth about Yitzchak because I can’t deal with my own father’s death. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. Would talking about it help?”

“I don’t know. Right now, I’m so confused, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

A strand of hair was tickling his cheek. Rina would have liked to tuck it behind his ear, but didn’t dare do it. The gesture would have been way too intimate. “You’re pale, Bram. Would you like me to drive?”

“No, I’m…” He sighed. “Why would anyone want to hurt my dad? He didn’t have an enemy in the world.” He tried to bite his nails. Nothing left to gnaw on. “My mom’s acting stoic. I’m worried.”

“Maybe it’s her way of grieving?”

“No. Being a priest, I’ve dealt with grief umpteen times. But this doesn’t seem normal. She’s too…detached.” He paused. “In truth, she’s acting stoned. Could be the sedatives we gave her last night. She had been hooked on them in our early years. You knew that.”

“Actually, no, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Never.”

“Must have slipped past me. Maybe it didn’t come up because she was off of them when we knew each other.” Bram rubbed his eyes. “When we were growing up, my dad was never home. And I mean never except for Sunday morning church. Then we’d go to the afternoon picnics, and he’d go back to the hospit-Now I know you’ve heard all this before.”

“It’s been a while. Refresh my memory.”

“Nothing to say except basically, she raised six kids by herself-three boys at one sitting. It was too much for her. She needed help. With her Fundamentalist beliefs, secular therapy was out. And back then, they didn’t have Christian counselors.”

“What about her church pastor?”

“No, she would never embarrass Dad like that. How could the wife of Doctor Azor Moses Sparks possibly have any problems. To the outside world, she was the model mother. Strong, solid, a firm churchgoing woman. And most of the time, while I was growing up, I viewed her that way, too. Like most mothers, she was our family anchor.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Rina nodded.

“But she had another side,” Bram continued. “Scared, frightened. Left alone in an empty bed most of the night. She had a hard time falling asleep. She turned to pills. Barbiturates. You know how they work. At first, they knock you out so you do sleep. Then, your body acclimates. You either take them or you bounce off walls. And with six of us, she did her fair share of bouncing. On the outside, she could maintain. But there were times…her mood swings…they were sometimes very hard to deal with.”

“Why didn’t her doctor wean her off the medication?”

“What doctor? She got the pills from my father.”

Rina held back surprise.

“Actually, Dad gave them to me, told his golden boy to keep a watch on her, especially after Magdeleine was born. He was worried about postpartum depression, which she had with Michael. At the grown-up age of fifteen, I was in charge of dispensing Class Two narcotics to my mother.”

Rina remained silent.

“Anyway, she did wean herself off by the time we finished high school. I hope and pray she can handle my father’s death without a major relapse.”

“You still have siblings at home, don’t you?”

“My youngest brother and sister. But they never knew her as an addict, thank God. None of my siblings knew. Later on, Luke figured it out. Could interpret her odd behavior for what it was. Probably because of his own illicit drug use.”

“Is he still an addict?”

“Thank God, no. He’s been clean for three years. But I’m concerned about him, too. He’s fragile. His marriage is unstable. My sister-in-law is a very difficult person.”

“Dana.”

“You’ve got a good memory.”

“The girl who broke your heart.”

“A very good memory.” He kissed his cross again. “Te amo, Jesu Cristo. There are things worse than celibacy.”

Rina smiled and so did he. Then he turned grave. “I know we’re all our brothers’ keepers. We are responsible for each other’s welfare. But sometimes I wonder if I’m strong enough.” He rolled his eyes again. “Now I’m whining.”

“You’re talking.”

“I’m rambling actually.”

Rina looked down. “It’s good for you to talk. Bram, I really do have a phone number.”

“I appreciate it, Rina Miriam, but it wouldn’t work, with your being married…I’d feel…He’d feel…” He waited a beat. “Did you tell your husband about us?”

“I haven’t been able to get hold of him, Bram. He slept at the station house last night. I’ve left him messages to call me. But we keep missing each other.”

The car was silent.

Rina said, “I’ll tell him. I know it could be a problem with your father’s investigation. Not that you’re a suspect-”

“He’s going to be looking into me…into all of us as soon as my father’s will is read. Because I just found out, we all inherited a lot of money.”

Rina was silent.

Bram said, “You’re not involved in his professional life, correct?”

“Generally, no.”

“That’s good. Because things could get dicey. Some of my sibs are in deep debt. Deeper than he’s aware of at the moment. But I’m sure he’ll find out. He’s going to start doing background checks, asking us lots of personal questions. The past could come up. That’s why you’ve got to tell him you know me.”

“If I see him at the service, I’ll tell him on the spot.” Rina tried to rein in her sick stomach. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”