Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

“Then let’s take a walk.”

She faced him, trying to control her hostility. “I don’t want to take a walk. I have work to do.”

Bram went over to the back door and opened it. “Okay?”

Rina bit back her waspish tongue, angry that he was snowing her with his knowledge of the Jewish laws. A man and a woman couldn’t be alone in a closed room for modesty reasons unless, of course, they were married. Opening an outside door, turning private quarters into a public domain, made it technically allowable for them to be together. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “What?”

“Can I sit down?”

“Do whatever you want.” She returned her attention to her groceries. Then stopped, counted to five. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” Bram sat at the kitchen table, pulled out an envelope of photographs from his pocket. “Before I forget, I was going through my closets at the rectory. Thought you might like to have these.”

Rina took the pictures, scanned through them.

Old snapshots. Ancient history. Shmueli must have been around four. He was sitting on Yitzy’s lap. In front of them was a simple Hebrew storybook-a child’s version of Lech Le’cha, the third chapter of Genesis, the story of Abraham’s calling. Shmueli was pointing to a passuk, a line of text, his face bunched in concentration.

Yitzy’s narrow face appeared serene, a spiritual glow in his eyes, his complexion pale but not pasty. His generous mouth held a small approving smile, his hand wrapped tightly around his son’s waist. Amazing how sketchy he had become in her mind. How she had once been married to such a healthy, handsome man. There were three pictures of that same scene.

Then two more of another pose. A tiny Yaakov riding Yitzy’s shoulders, his little hands holding on to Yitzy’s sandy-colored beard. In the background was a young woman wearing a long skirt and a tichel.

Had she ever been that young? Had that ever been her life? She found her throat had tightened, couldn’t look at the remaining snapshots. She stuffed them all back into the envelope.

“Thank you, I’ll put them in the boys’ photo albums. They’ll appreciate them very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bram fixed his eyes upon her. Once upon a time, the sight of Rina with her hair cascading down her shoulders, would have made him sick with desire, would have sent a raging fire throughout his body. Now, as he gazed upon her, his passions calm and controlled, he was grateful that all he felt was the fear of God in his breast and the love of Jesus in his heart. He knew it wasn’t due to any physical change in Rina. If anything, she had become more beautiful. What a difference a wedding band made.

He said, “Your hair’s uncovered.”

Rina’s hand reached for her head. She dashed out of the room and retrieved her scarf. Though her head was pounding, she wrapped it tightly around her hair, hiding all of it from view. She found a bottle of Peter’s Advil and helped herself. Then she went back into the kitchen. Went back to unpacking groceries. “Why’d you come here?”

“To apologize. At least, can you look at me?”

Rina turned around. Though his face was drawn, his complexion looked healthier today than yesterday. She realized it was because he had shaved and his hair had been washed.

Softly, she said, “I could never stay mad at you. It never happened, okay?”

“But it did happen.” He locked eyes with her. “My behavior yesterday was wretched by anyone’s standards. For someone who dares to call himself a man of God, it was abhorrent. I took my frustrations out on you. I’m very sorry.”

Rina turned away. “No need to apologize. I know what it’s like to experience rotten times.”

“It’s no excuse.” Bram stood, walked over to the open door, stared into the backyard. “Rina, I have spent the entire night thinking about what you asked me-”

“Bram-”

“You asked me a question. It deserves an answer. Bear with me, all right?”

Rina was silent.

“I have tried to relive every moment I was with Yitzy…from the time I first met him until the last time I saw him. My own mental video of the times we spent together alone…which was very substantial.”

He ran his hand through his hair.

“I can honestly say to you that there was never, ever, even a wee hint of impropriety on my part. In all the time I knew him, Yitzchak was what he was. A righteous Tzaddik and a loving father and husband. And my behavior toward him had always been above reproach. But…”

He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed upon the corral.

“But there were…as you put it…feelings.”

Rina said nothing.

“There were feelings,” Bram faced her. “Vague sexual feelings.”

Rina leaned against the counter, studied her hands. “Toward Yitzchak.”

“At the time, I had assumed so, since they came on shortly after I met him and disappeared shortly after he died.”

He shrugged.

“I didn’t know quite what to make of them, since they were a new experience for me. Discounting that aberrant time in both of our lives, I’ve always been a man of large spiritual needs and small physical appetites. I don’t eat much, I’m rarely thirsty, don’t drink alcohol beyond an occasional beer. I’ve never taken drugs, never even smoked a cigarette.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Not at all.” He paused. “And…also…I’ve never had much in the way of a sex drive. Something that’s apparently not genetic, judging from the way my brother chased girls in high school.”

Rina looked at him, said nothing.

“So when I got these feelings,” Bram said, “I really didn’t know what to make of them. I just…attributed them to Yitzchak…then went ahead and ignored them. They certainly didn’t get in the way of our friendship.”

“Did he…” Rina took a breath. “Did Yitzchak ever display…” She turned away. “Never mind.”

“The answer to your unasked question is an emphatic no.”

Rina covered her mouth. “Good gracious, how could I even think…” She started ripping through her grocery bags, placing items on the counter.

“Can you stop?”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

She spun around. “What!”

“Why are you killing the messenger? I’m not even giving you bad news. There was never anything between us except fraternal love. Yitzchak was not gay. So calm down.”

She flopped into a kitchen chair. “I’m not handling this right.” She looked at him. “You know, Bram. I don’t think I ever really thanked you-”

“You thanked me.”

“No, I didn’t-”

“We’re getting sidetracked. I spent an entire night in tortured self-reflection on this. Can you please let me finish?”

“I’m sorry. Go on.”

“Mazel tov. Where was I?”

“Your vague feelings didn’t get in the way of your friendship with my late husband.”

“Right.” He continued his narrative. “It wasn’t until later…after Yitzy died…during that too brief time we saw each other…that I was able to interpret my sexual feelings for what they were.”

He sat back down at the table, avoided her eyes. “With all my heart, I believe in Jesus’ words as holy. I wouldn’t be much of a priest if I didn’t. Both of our religions forbid adultery. It is the sixth commandment of my law, the seventh of yours. The Savior, Jesus Christ…”

He hesitated.

“My savior, Jesus Christ, has also amended the commandment to condemn desire. He teaches us that lusting for another man’s wife is equivalent to adultery of the heart. And back then, as a newly graduated seminarian, His words were something I took very seriously.”