Faye Kellerman - Day of Atonement

“Yonasan …”

“He doesn’t have a heart condition.” To Decker, Jonathan said, “Everyone at today’s table has a big mouth. Feel free to make a jerk out of yourself like we all do.”

“Speak for yourself.” Shimon turned serious. “I’m worried about Mama. She still looks a little shaky.”

“She must have caught my bug,” Decker said straight-faced.

“You felt shaky last night?” Shimon said.

“Very,” Decker answered.

“You look okay now,” Shimon said.

“I feel a little better,” Decker said.

“How are you enjoying New York?” Jonathan asked.

“I’m not used to such close quarters,” Decker said.

“It can be oppressive,” Jonathan said. “Especially if you’re used to a lot of space. Rina says you have a ranch with horses.”

“A small ranch,” Decker said. “A few acres.”

“Do you police your area on horseback?” Shimon asked.

Decker stared at him. Shimon had asked the question sincerely. He cleared his throat and said, “We don’t live on the wild frontier. We have regular houses, regular streets—”

“But no sidewalks,” Jonathan said. “Rina said there are no sidewalks.”

“The major streets have sidewalks,” Decker said. “How well do you know Rina, Jonathan?”

“You have streets without sidewalks?” Shimon said.

“Some of the streets don’t have sidewalks,” Decker said. To Jonathan, he said, “You and Rina do a lot of talking?”

Shimon said, “Where do you walk if you don’t have sidewalks? On people’s lawns?”

“There are these dirt curbs—”

“How quaint,” Jonathan said.

“Quaint is cobblestone streets,” Decker said. “Our area isn’t at all quaint.”

Jonathan said, “Rina says you have a lot of Hell’s Angels living near you.”

“Not right near us—”

“Hell’s Angels, gang shootings, highway shootings, and all those crazies on drugs …” Shimon shook his head, adjusted his hat. “And they say New York is bad? I bet I’m safer here than where you live. Because here I have neighbors that know me.”

Jonathan said, “Rina says in Los Angeles no one knows their neighbors.”

“That’s not really true,” Decker said. He realized he was sounding defensive. “Well, it’s sort of true. What else has Rina told you, Jonathan?”

Jonathan didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “Did Rina tell you I was her late husband’s best friend? Yitz and I grew up together.”

“Yitz and Yonasan used to learn together,” Shimon explained. “Every single night until Yitz and Rina moved to Israel. The two of them were amazing. Whenever they learned in the Bais Midrash, people gathered around them just to hear their fertile minds click—”

“A real dog and pony show,” Jonathan said.

“You loved to learn back then, Yonie,” Shimon said. “I remember the fire in your eye whenever you proved a point.”

“That was a glazed look from lack of sleep.”

“You loved it.” Shimmy became grave. “Yitz was a good influence on you. Now he’s gone and you’ve become an apikoros. We lost both of you in one year.”

Jonathan looked pained. “Not quite the same thing.”

Shimon put his arm around his brother and said, “You’re right. It’s not the same thing at all. I’m just saying you lost your love for learning when Yitz—”

“I pay an analyst for this, Shim,” Jonathan said.

“Ach,” Shimon said. “Analyst, shmanalyst. I have faith. I haven’t given up on you.”

Jonathan started to say something but changed his mind. They walked the next few steps without talking. Turning to Decker, Jonathan said, “I used to razz Yitz the same way I’m razzing you.” He rolled his tongue inside his cheeks. “He was a good guy.”

There was another moment of silence. Jonathan managed to put on a cheerful smile, then punched Decker lightly on the shoulder. “As far as Rina goes, I tried. God knows I tried … and tried … and tried and tried.”

Decker let out a small laugh.

Jonathan shrugged and said, “The better man won out—both times.”

Decker didn’t know if that was true. But he certainly wasn’t going to argue the point.

The house that Rabbi Levine built was nearly identical to the Lazarus abode. Crystal, Decker decided, must be symbolic of something. Frieda Levine, like Rina’s ex-mother-in-law, Sora Lazarus, seemed to be inordinately fond of the glistening glass. The dining area was lit with a mammoth-sized chandelier—a four-tiered job with scores of icy stalactites dangling from the frame. It completely overpowered the room.

And as had been the case at Sora Lazarus’s, the adjoining living room–dining room had taken on the appearance of a mess hall. One long rectangular table and four folding card tables crammed every available inch of floor space. There were enough chairs to fill an auditorium.

Rina took Decker’s hand and explained that Frieda had invited a few families—ones that hadn’t lived in the community for so long.

“Nice that the woman is hospitable,” Decker said.

“Peter …”

“Okay, okay.”

“How was your walk over here?” Rina asked.

“You know, you might have walked with me,” Decker said. “Especially after all that happened.”

“You’re not going to like this, Peter, but I felt Frieda Levine needed me more than you did.”

Decker stared at her. “Feel the need to mother her, do you?”

“I think that’s a rhetorical question,” Rina said. “I’m not going to answer it.”

Decker jammed his hands in his pockets. “Did you happen to notice who I was walking with?”

“Yes, I did,” Rina said. “So did Mrs. Levine.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“No, but she did have this real … wistful look in her eyes.”

“Wistful?”

“Maybe that’s not the right word.”

Decker bounced on his feet, unable to pace because they were in public and there was no room to pace even if he wanted to. He said, “Is there assigned seating at this shindig?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do I have to sit separate from you?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

“Can I put my elbows on the table?”

“Peter—”

“Forget it.” Decker dug into his hip pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Anywhere I can get a light?”

“You need to smoke?”

“Very badly.”

Rina sighed. “Give it to me. There’s probably a fire under one of the kitchen burners.”

Decker handed her a cigarette. A moment later, she came back with his lighted smoke and suggested they take it outside. Decker said that was a wonderful idea. On the front lawn, they met Jonathan puffing away.

He said, “Great minds think alike.”

Rina took Decker’s arm and said, “Would you two like a formal introduction?”

“Not necessary,” Jonathan said.

“Jonathan grew up with Yitzchak,” Rina said.

“He’s had his history lesson for the day,” Jonathan said.

“Excuse me,” Rina said.

Jonathan laughed. “Sorry. I’m in a bad mood. I hate these things. Every year I swear I’m going to beg off coming, and every year my mother pleads and I give in. Mama can be very persistent. It’s religion to her. The family’s got to be together on holidays!”

Rina felt Decker’s arm tense.

Jonathan said, “I’ve got to marry a woman who doesn’t get along with my family and use her as an excuse.” He said to Decker, “How ’bout yourself, pal? You look really excited.”

“I’m thrilled.”

“Can read it all over your face.”

Decker laughed.

Rina said, “I think her hospitality is nice.”

“You’re nice.” Jonathan said to Decker, “Rina says I’m too sarcastic. Do you think I’m sarcastic?”