Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

Decker paused. “You do?”

“Yes.”

Decker was in awe. “You’re being so reasonable.”

“It happens. But don’t get too used to it.”

“Nah, don’t want to spoil myself.”

Rina smiled, hugged his arm again. Bram was trying to come their way, but kept getting waylaid by grim ladies in gray suits embracing him. If he was annoyed by the interruptions, his face didn’t reveal it. He had almost made it over when an attractive but anorexic blond woman with a severe haircut grabbed his arm, yanked him to her. Rina couldn’t tell what she was saying, but she was giving him an earful. His expression grew impatient…drained. The woman, dressed in black, seemed vaguely familiar.

Dana?

They looked funny together. Probably because his hair was so long and hers was so short. Within minutes, she broke down, wept on Bram’s shoulder. He held her, but wasn’t happy about it.

“Who’s that?” Decker asked.

“I thought you weren’t going to put me in the middle.”

“Simple identification question,” he scoffed.

“Peter, you’re being bad. But I’ll answer you anyway. I think she’s Luke’s wife, Dana. But I’m not positive.”

Bram was trying to direct the woman away from the crowd, but he was less successful with her than he had been with Luke. Feet rooted on the floor, she kept clinging to him, sobbing and talking at the same time.

Decker said, “He’s uncomfortable with her. Animosity, or is he like that with women?”

Rina stroked her husband’s cheek. “Do I look like Freud?”

Decker laughed. Rina hit his good shoulder and smiled.

But it was an astute observation.

Bram had always been reserved with women, including herself. He had only opened up after misfortune and grief had thrown them together. Rina had always chalked it off to his disastrous relationship with Dana. Her eyes moved away from Bram and landed on a well-dressed man talking expressively with his hands. Way too showy to be a member of the Sparks ’s Fundamentalist Church.

She said, “Do you know who that man is?”

“Which man?”

“All the way back and to the left. The one in the three-piece, pinstriped suit.”

Decker’s eyes skied across the room. “You know, I bet that’s…excuse me, darlin’.”

Decker walked away, leaving Rina alone. Her eyes went back to Bram and Dana. Amid the adult bodies, a little boy of around three pushed through everyone, ran up to Abram shouting, “Uncle Bram, Uncle Bram!”

The woman turned fierce, screamed loudly, “Can’t you see that I’m talking!”

People around them stopped conversing, stared at the woman. The boy’s face broke. Red-faced, Bram scooped the child into his arms, comforting him, patting his back as the boy snuggled into his uncle’s chest. The woman started crying again. This time, Bram was more forceful. Without grace, he grasped her arm and led her straight to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, the priest reemerged, still holding the child. He spotted Rina, came over. Rina smiled at the boy, brushed hair out of bright green eyes.

“Luke’s son?”

“Yep.”

“He looks exactly like you.” Rina laughed. “I mean your brother.”

“I’ve got a great setup. The kid looks like me. I get all the fun and none of the responsibilities.”

“Does Uncle Bram baby-sit a lot?”

“Uncle Bram does baby-sit on occasion. But Uncle Bram has his own life. Where’s your husband?”

“Talking to that man over there.” Rina pointed. “Who is he?”

Bram’s eyes followed her extended finger. “Reginald Decameron. One of my father’s colleagues.”

“Snappy dresser.”

“Indeed, especially in this conservative crowd.” He spoke to his nephew. “You okay, Pooch?”

The little boy nodded.

“This is Peter. Peter the Pooch. As opposed to Peter the Lieutenant. We call him Pooch because no one can bark like Peter. You want to show Mrs. Laza-…show Mrs. Decker your bark, Pooch?”

The boy shook his head, nestled deeper into the priest’s chest. Bram shifted the boy’s weight in his arms.

Rina mouthed, “How’s Luke?”

Bram’s face fell, shook his head. “How about getting Uncle Bram a cookie, Peter. A chocolate cookie. Think you can do that?”

He set the child down, kneeled to talk to him.

“Here’s a dime. You get me a big chocolate cookie, I’ll turn this dime into two dimes. You know I can do that, right?”

Pooch nodded somberly. Bram kissed his cheek. “Go.”

The boy didn’t move.

“Come on. I’ll time you.” Bram looked at his watch and said, “Ready, set…go.”

The boy scooted off. Bram stood up. “Works every time.”

Rina hugged herself. “I’m sorry about Luke.”

“If he’s that selfish, getting drunk at a time like this, I’m not going to waste my energies on him. I’ve got my mother to think about.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Thanks for asking. Actually, she seems better. At least, she’s crying. I find that healthy.”

No one spoke.

Bram said, “These things are good for her.”

“What things?”

“People…gatherings. Keeps her occupied. When we were growing up, she was very involved with the church. She held some sway being Doctor Sparks’s wife. But she used her position to get people motivated. Raised money by doing bakeoffs and yard sales. She spent a lot of time visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved. I’ve always admired her charitable nature. She’d cringe to hear me say this, because she’s not fond of Catholics, but I owe who I am to her.”

“Why doesn’t she like Catholics?”

Bram smiled. “She thinks we’re a bunch of foppish, overindulged idol-worshipers whose rituals border on paganism. And compared to the spare Fundamentalist service I grew up with, she has a point. I see Catholic tradition as beautiful, she sees it as theatrical. And of course, Protestants don’t recognize the Pope as the supreme head of the Christian Faith.”

Rina laughed softly.

“What?”

“I never thought about dissension among Christians.”

“No, to our shame, we are not a unified bunch. Just look at the Reformation, Martin Luther seducing nuns from the convent. He married one, as a matter of fact.”

“That lout.”

“Indeed. Even closer to home, Rina, look at your own religious denominations, look at your Orthodox Jewish sects. Didn’t you used to tell me how the Satmar Chassidim hated the Lubavitch Chassidim who fought with the Misnagdim-”

“You have a very good memory.”

“For some things.” He grew distant. “That was a long time ago. Yet, at this moment, the conversation is fresh in my mind. Funny how that works.”

Rina bit her nail. “Peter doesn’t want me talking to you until the case is resolved. You understand his position.”

Bram sighed. “Unfortunately, I do. And it’s a very good idea. Besides, we’ve both got our own lives now…separate lives…best to keep it that way.”

Rina nodded. “As sad as it was…as hard as it was, it was wonderful to see you again, Abram. May God be a source of solace for you and your family. May He shine His eternal light your way. I wish you and your family only the best.”

Bram regarded her eyes, his own warm and moist. “Thanks for coming down, Rina Miriam. You know you own a special place in my heart.”

“The sentiment runs both ways.” Rina rubbed her arms. “I’m going to leave now. Could you please tell Peter I took a taxi back to the yeshiva.”

“Of course.” Bram stuck his hands in his pants pockets, leaned against the wall. “Take care, Mrs. Decker. I’d hug you if I could. But as someone once told me, people talk.”

“Yes, they do.” Rina smiled at him. “Besides, Father, we have our proprieties.”