Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

“I believe he’s in the dining room, Liz.”

“Thank you, Bram.” She clasped him tightly to her breast. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Decker saw Bram stiffen as she hugged him. Second time today he noticed how uncomfortable the priest became when touched by a woman.

Liz touched his cheek. “Take care of your family. They need you now more than ever.”

“Elizabeth, that is a cursed thing to say!” Decameron chided. “Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll do both. How’s that for a compromise?”

The two doctors waved, then walked off. Bram laughed softly when they were out of earshot. “What a pair.”

“You seem to get along with them.”

“In a very limited scope.”

“Both of them seem quite fond of you.”

Bram eyed Decker. “Everyone loves a priest. Rina took a cab back home. Would you like to meet Grease Pit?”

“Yes, I would.” Decker paused. “He wasn’t at all what I expected.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you said your father was a weekend warrior, I thought you meant a doctor/lawyer dress-up club.”

“No, these guys are the real thing.” Bram pushed hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know why my father hooked up with such a motley crew. Unless he was trying to reform them.”

“Did your father try to reform people?”

“My family is Fundamentalist, Lieutenant. Saving souls is an integral part of the doctrine. All we kids have done missionary work as teenagers. My mother chose to act out her life’s mission through her church, and my father saved souls through his work. But even with all the medical miracles he performed, he was still vocal about being a personal missionary as well as a professional one. He used to pray with his patients before the surgeries.”

Decker paused. “It didn’t create a conflict with non-Fundamentalist patients?”

“He showed sensitivity if the patient wasn’t Christian. Spoke exclusively of God instead of Jesus. Sometimes, he’d even use the common parlance of a Higher Being.”

“What if the patient was an atheist?”

The priest shrugged. “I would imagine everyone recognizes his or her own mortality before major transplant surgery. I don’t think Dad’s invocation caused a problem. If it did, I never heard about it.”

Decker looked around. Again, he spoke softly. “Obviously, his Fundamentalist beliefs didn’t influence his choice of colleagues.”

“You mean Dr. Decameron? Reggie’s a brilliant man. My father wouldn’t have kept him on if he wasn’t.”

“He didn’t find his overt homosexuality a slap in the face of his religion?”

The priest’s eyes darted about. “You don’t turn your back on sinners.”

“But you don’t have to hire them on. Nor do you have to keep them on once they’ve been convicted of morals charges.”

Bram said, “Take a walk with me.”

Decker followed the priest back into the kitchen. To his surprise, it was empty, leaving Decker to wonder where Bram had stowed his twin, Luke. The priest leaned against the kitchen counter, eyes on Decker’s face. “Did Dr. Decameron tell you about the arrest or did you dig that up?”

“Decameron told me.”

“It made the local throwaway papers here in a big way. You can picture the byline: RENOWNED HEART DOCTOR BUSTED CRUISING SANTA MONICA. It caused a mini-scandal not only in the hospital, but in Father’s church. Dad got a lot of flak. Not to his face of course, but there were whisperings that were painful for my mother. Even so, Dad was a man of integrity. He stood behind Decameron and eventually everything died down. I called you in here because I’m asking you to please refrain from mentioning the incident around my mother.”

“She doesn’t like Dr. Decameron.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Because of the scandal or because he’s gay?”

“Because of the scandal and because he’s overtly gay.” The priest fingered his cross. “She’s old-fashioned. Thinks that if gays really wanted to change, they could. To her, homosexuality isn’t an innate, hardwired sexual preference. To her, it’s being stubborn.”

“And it’s being a sinner.”

“That, too.” Bram waited a beat. “Actually, it’s the homosexual act that’s the sin, not the homosexual. Though the distinction makes little difference to a woman like my mother or to a man like Reginald, it would make a great difference to someone like my father who took the Bible literally.”

“Meaning?”

“He’d have nothing against homosexuals as long as they abstained from engaging in homosexuality.”

Decker paused. “So your father wouldn’t discriminate against gays as long as they remained celibate.”

“Exactly.”

“Hard to do.”

“It can be done.”

Decker said nothing. The priest’s face was neutral.

Bram said, “Either celibate or sublimated in a legitimate heterosexual union.”

“But neither is the case with Decameron.”

“No.”

“And yet your father kept him on.”

“Yes.”

“Ever get an indication that your father was trying to save Decameron’s soul?”

A small smile played upon Bram’s lips. As if the thought was too absurd for words. “No, I never did see any indication of that. But perhaps it was an agenda of my father’s.” He looked around. “I’ve got to get back to the crowd.”

“Of course,” Decker said. “Out of curiosity, is punishing the act but not the desire how the Catholic Church views gays?”

“Our philosophy is to deal compassionately with everyone. Anybody-and I do mean anybody-is welcome in my church. Theologically speaking, confession and penance are required for all immoral thoughts regardless toward whom they’re directed.”

“Although personally you think immoral thoughts could be construed as healthy outlets for tension.”

Bram stared at him. “Ah, our discussion last night. I should be more temperate in my speech. I didn’t quite mean that, Lieutenant. As an agent of the Roman Catholic faith, I feel it’s not only commendable but very wise to keep the mind as spiritually focused as possible. I had just been musing for my father’s benefit. He expected theological interchange whenever I was around. I tried not to disappoint.”

Decker nodded, wondering what kind of fantasies had ever danced in the priest’s mind.

Bram said, “By the way, Lieutenant, I want to apologize for my sister’s comments yesterday. Eva isn’t anti-Semitic. But she is having a hard time with her Jewish husband. She’s another one who has trouble making distinctions.”

“How’d your parents feel about Eva marrying a Jew?”

The priest’s voice leaked exhaustion. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t bring that up with my mother either.”

“I’m not bringing it up with her. I’m bringing it up with you.”

“We’ve all made peace with our differences.” He looked up, engaged Decker’s eyes. “We’ve run far afield.”

“I’ll take that introduction to Grease Pit, Father. Sorry to have monopolized your time.”

“Actually, you did a mitzvah…distracted me from these unreal circumstances for a short time. Isn’t that what shivah is all about?”

Decker said, “You know Hebrew.”

“Yes, I do.”

Guy was probably more fluent than he was. Seems the world was more fluent than he.

Decker pushed aside his jealousy and thought about what the priest was saying. There were some similarities between this gathering and shivah, the required seven days of Jewish mourning. The grieving family of course, the somber dress, visitors offering words of comfort to the bereaved, even the ample supply of finger food.

But there were also distinct differences. Namely the lack of religious rituals. Jewish law requires that the mourners wear torn clothing, sit on low stools or the floor instead of chairs, and refrain from greeting visitors. They were not permitted to leave the house-even to pray at synagogue. Which meant a minyan-ten adult men needed for public prayer-was usually brought to the mourners’ house. Bathing was prohibited during shivah. So was shaving. All mirrors were covered, usually with taped-to-the-wall sheets. And of course, the official mourning period was intense for seven days, followed by thirty lesser days, followed by eleven months of reciting the mourner’s Kaddish in a minyan.