Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

“He wouldn’t agree to artificial insemination…against his Catholic religion to mix seed or something like that.” Luke swiped at his eyes. “But apparently, nonvital organ transplants…or in our case, organ exchanges…were permissible. Which didn’t make a lot of sense to me…or maybe he got permission from the Pope. I never knew much about Bram’s affairs or his religion.”

Rina waited for him to continue.

“He donated one of his…you know.”

Rina couldn’t hide her surprise.

Luke said, “He would have given me both. Said they weren’t doing him any good. But my father put his foot down…wouldn’t allow it.”

“Your father did the surgery?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, Mister Cutting-Edge Surgeon. Excuse me…Doctor Cutting-Edge Surgeon. He didn’t want Bram to do it. But my brother…once he got a bug in his head…”

Rina was silent.

“Dad did it after hours, in secret, off the record. No one knows. No one. Not even my wife. She thought I went in for a hernia. Anyway, with my dad holding the knife and Bram and me being identical, the exchange took. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, et cetera, et cetera.”

Rina remained quiet.

Luke said, “I bunked in at Bram’s apartment for about…four, five days. Dad did a good job. We healed up, both of us. Lo and behold, we still had beards and talked like men. Three months later, my wife became pregnant. Lucky all the way around. God only knows what my own DNA looked like after ten years of using.”

“That’s a beautiful story.” Rina stared at him. “Is it really true?”

Luke blushed. “Honest injun. Some endings are happy, Mrs. Decker.”

“More like bittersweet.”

“Yeah, more like bittersweet.” Luke’s eyes watered. “But we take what we can get. I don’t know why I told you. I guess I wanted you to know that he didn’t die empty.”

“Thank you, Luke.” Rina smiled sadly. “Thank you very much for telling me. It does make me feel better…for whatever that’s worth.”

“Thanks for your time.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Nah, don’t bother.”

Rina watched him go. As soon as his car motor faded to nothing, Peter and Hannah reappeared from the orchard. Peter was carrying a handful of oranges.

“Your daughter has an arm,” he said.

“How many did you let her throw?”

“Let’s change the subject. What did Luke want?”

Rina showed her husband the package, but not the card. “This was apparently meant for me…a belated birthday present that never arrived.”

“From Bram?”

She nodded, tore open the wrapping. Inside a box was a pair of tortoiseshell hair combs. She showed them to Peter. “He bought these a long time ago. It’s good he chose combs instead of a mood ring.”

“Very good. They’re beautiful.”

“Yes, they are. Bram always loved my hair.” She smiled at Hannah, lifted her into her arms. “Come on, pumpkin. Let’s go make some juice.”

“Can I throw the oranges, Mommy?”

“No, but you can squeeze them.” She kissed Peter. “Go back to sleep.”

“Good idea.” Decker lay back on the couch, stared at the ceiling, thinking about Rina’s words, that Bram had loved her hair.

Which gave Decker significant insight into their relationship. Which had to have been very personal. Because how else would Bram have known about Rina’s long, luxurious hair, which she usually kept covered for public consumption.

From the very beginning, Decker knew intuitively that Rina had loved Bram, knew that her love had been returned in spades. Maybe they had physically consummated the relationship, maybe not. What did it matter anyway? He had once heard a Jewish proverb stating that jealousy rots the flesh off the bones-the reason why man disintegrates after death. He could believe that. It was a petty, trivial emotion-a waste of time and precious breath.

Decker thought about his wife’s closeness to Bram, examined the feelings in his heart. They felt warm, very good indeed.

FAYE KELLERMAN introduced L.A. cop Peter Decker and his wife, Rina Lazarus, to the mystery world eleven years ago. Since that time she has written nine Peter Decker/Rina Lazarus novels as well as a historical novel, The Quality of Mercy. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, author Jonathan Kellerman. There are close to three million copies of her books in print.