Peter Decker 3-Book Thriller Collection. Faye Kellerman
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“A little.”
She stood with her arms folded across her chest with that look in her eyes. Decker had seen it umpteen times in Jan. What was it? Hostility? Contempt? Injury? Probably a little of all three.
“Do you have any coffee handy?” he asked.
“I’ll make some.”
“Don’t bother.”
Defiance suddenly vanished from her face. Replacing it was sadness. His heart sank. He could deal with her anger, but not with her melancholy. He felt like a total ass.
“It’s no bother,” she said softly. “Would you like something to eat?”
The muscles in his throat tightened. He answered her with a shake of the head. As she started to the kitchen, he called out her name. His voice cracked.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Forget about the coffee,” he said. “Come sit down.”
She did as he requested.
“I brought you a peace offering.” He held out a flat, square package wrapped in gold embossed paper, but she didn’t take it.
“Go on,” he urged. “It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
Slowly she extended her hand.
“Open it.”
Methodically picking apart the paper, she exposed a sterling silver picture frame.
“Thank you,” she said, barely audible.
He took the frame from her.
“Should be the right size. Where’s the picture, Rina?”
Walking over to her kitchen, she pulled out a drawer and handed him the wedding photo. Decker slid it between the backing and the glass, clamped the closure pins shut, and hung it on its old spot on the wall.
“Much better,” he said. “Actually, I think the picture looks nicer in this frame. You notice it more.”
She said nothing.
“I’ll go now.”
Tears spilled over her lower lashes and down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry for this morning, Rina,” he said softly. “I acted like a madman.”
“I never knew the picture bothered you, Peter.” She pulled out a tissue and wiped her eyes. “Of course, I don’t know too much about you, do I?”
The anger was back.
“What do you want to know?” he asked calmly.
“Come back next week. I’ll have a questionnaire made up.”
“I don’t blame you for sniping at me, Rina, but it really isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“Why did you come here tonight?”
“To apologize.”
“Well, you’ve done that.”
“You say you want me to talk to you. Now I’m trying, but it doesn’t appear to do any good.”
“Maybe I’m too angry.” She lowered her head. “Maybe I’m too hurt.”
“I should have told you about my adoption. But believe me, Rina, it wasn’t stubbornness that held me back. I didn’t want to misrepresent myself to you. Call myself Jewish when I really didn’t know what it meant.”
“I’m not stupid, Peter. I know how hard it is to live this kind of life. I mean it’s not hard for me—I love it. But for someone not brought up like this, there are restrictions—”
“A lot of restrictions.”
“You don’t believe in any of it, do you?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I think some of the laws are nonsense.”
“Such as?”
“The separation of sexes. Women are considered chattels—”
“That’s not true.”
“Honey, your ketubah is nothing more than a sales receipt. Your husband bought you.”
“It’s not that simple.”
He waited for clarification.
“I don’t want to get into a religious discourse right now, Peter. Why don’t you talk to Rav Schulman about it? He could explain it better than I could.”
“Yes, the good rav does seem to have an answer for everything. And when there’s no answer, he tells me to take it on blind faith. That’s not the answer I’m looking for.”
“What are you looking for? A neat little solution? You won’t find it.”
“Then why bother concocting religion, Rina? Why not say things are just random? Sometimes they work out well, sometimes they don’t.”
“Because that’s a very bleak outlook on life. I don’t believe we are just some random Darwinian mutation … mutation in a million years we’ll be giant brains resting on vestigial bodies. I don’t believe that at all. Judaism is more than just a series of blind beliefs, Peter—or a concoction. It’s history. The chumash isn’t cute little fables; it’s a family chronicle of my ancestors—your ancestors. When I immerse myself in the mikvah, I think: this is what Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah did thousands of years ago. Torah is timeless.
“I don’t understand why my husband died at twenty-eight of a brain tumor. I don’t understand why I miscarried three times. I could curse the world and reject God, but then what is my alternative? To believe in a world that is ruled by laws solely conceived by human beings? Laws that can be altered at the whim of a crazy man? That’s what happened in Nazi Germany, Peter. The country had a constitution. It had laws. You saw how seriously the people took them.”
He had no answer.
“Torah law is irrevocable, Peter, because it is divine. That’s not to say Judaism is a static religion; it isn’t at all. But the Ten Commandments are the Ten Commandments. They aren’t going to change just because some guru goes on a talk show and says it’s okay to commit adultery. I believe in Torah because its truths are absolute.”
“I’ve always envied the faith you have in your religion,” Decker said.
“It’s your religion, too.”
He shook his head. “Maybe it will be, but it isn’t now. Look at it through my eyes, Rina. My Jewish parents dumped me. My Baptist parents raised me, loved me.”
She faced him, took his hand. “Are you resentful?”
“Not really. My mother was a kid—fifteen. I couldn’t—can’t—blame her for what she did. It isn’t resentment that holds me back from Judaism, Rina. It’s belief. I’m not even sure I believe in God; I certainly don’t believe in structured religion. I’d like to feel the same way you do about Judaism, but I can’t. At least I can’t right now.”
“That’s going to cause problems for us.”
“I know,” he said wearily. “So where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Swell.”
“I know what I should do,” she said quietly. “I should tell you to leave me.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Not leave forever, but maybe for a year or longer if you need it. Study Torah. Learn what it is to be a Torah Jew. See if you don’t change your mind. I love you. I’ll wait for you.”
“A year?”
“It’s not that