Prayers for the Dead

13

He was waiting when Rina swung the Volvo into the parking lot. She pulled alongside his ten-year-old Toyota, paused before she opened the door. Clad in a somber brown knit dress that fell below the knee, her hair pinned and covered with a chocolate tam, she thought she looked appropriate. Her face was clean, but without a drop of makeup. Let him see all the wrinkles and worry lines.

She got out, straighted up, and brushed imaginary lint from her skirt. She tried not to stare, but did anyway.

He had aged a bit, but wore it well. Overtones of white mixed into in his amber-colored hair, the silvering at his temples. He still kept it the same way-one length and long, the ends nipping his shoulders. His green eyes were as sharp as ever, lying calmly behind hexagonal frameless glasses. His face was a bit bonier, but his shoulders had widened, his build was more mature and mannish. Even with stress stamped across his face, Abram Matthew Sparks cut a handsome figure.

He leaned against the car, looked upward, stuck his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for coming.”

Her eyes went moist. “I’m sorry, Bram.”

“So am I.”

Such pain in his voice.

He looked at her face, then at the ground. “You look exquisite as always. Married life has been good for you. How long has it been since you’ve tied the knot? Five years?”

“Five years exactly.”

“So it’s been what…around six years since we’ve last seen each other? Where has the time gone? You haven’t aged a whit.”

“Tell me what I can do for you.”

“Nothing, unfortunately.” Bram walked over and opened the passenger door. “Nothing at all.”

Rina blinked back tears. “It’s agonizing to see you in such misery.”

His eyes went to hers, then he looked away. “Better me than you.”

She knew his words were heartfelt, which made the pathos that much stronger. Longing to hug him, to comfort him as he had done for her. But she quelled the thought. It wouldn’t suit either of them. Instead, she took his hand, his fingers tapered and smooth, his palm uncalloused. A scholar’s hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze. Abruptly, he pulled her to his chest, hugged her hard, burrowing his face in her tam. He was trying to control his tears, but she still felt warm droplets on the back of her neck. Embracing her as if she were his life raft as he sputtered to stay afloat.

Hastily, he broke it off and walked away. “Dear God, I’m losing it.”

“Stop being so hard on your-”

“I know, I know.”

Rina was quiet. He was red-faced, embarrassed. The car door was still open. She slipped inside the Toyota ’s front seat, burying her hands into the soft folds of dress fabric. Piled in the back were stacks of university library books written in ancient exotic languages. Among them, at the bottom of one of the heaps, was an oversized tome of Talmud. Tractate Sanhedrin, Volume One. Sanhedrin dealt with the laws of the Jewish court. Without thinking, Rina removed the book and set it on top. Holy works shouldn’t ever rest under secular ones.

Bram wiped his eyes, moved into the driver’s seat. “Sorry. I forgot who I’m dealing with…with whom I’m dealing.”

Rina blushed. “Force of habit.”

“It’s fine. Anything you do is fine. Anything at all. Anything, anything. I don’t know why I even mentioned it.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You’re perfectly coherent.”

“My, you’re kind.”

“You’re using Steinsaltz?”

“So much for purism.” He rolled his eyes. “What a firebrand I was back then.”

“Enthusiastic.”

“You mean obnoxious. Which I was. Yes, I’m using Steinsaltz. Besides being a remarkably clear thinker, he believes in readable print and punctuation. My eyes are going.”

Rina regarded his face. “Did you get any rest at all, Abram?”

“Actually, yes.” He pulled a crucifix out from under his shirt, kissed it gently. “I grabbed around four hours between six A.M. and noon Mass. I feel okay.”

With that, he started the car, jamming the gear into first. Speeded up as he drove through the winding mountainous road. Bram had always been a fast driver. Occasionally, the Toyota seemed to lose its grip on the asphalt. Rina clutched the door rest and hoped for the best.

She stole a quick glance his way. He was dressed in the requisite black suit and black clerical shirt. His nails had been bitten to the quick. She looked away, eyes peering out the window.

“Considerate of you,” she said. “Wearing your cross inside your shirt when you were with Rav Schulman. Especially considerate to be thinking of him at this time in your life.”

“Yes, I’ve grown up.” He was reflective. “I don’t know why Rav Schulman put up with me way back when. Such a cocky kid. Cocky, abrasive, argumentative, rude, irritating…a veritable thesaurus of unpleasantness.”

“You’re turning your grief inward,” Rina stated. “Don’t. It doesn’t help.”

Bram was silent. Then he said, “Thanks for calling last night.”

“I wouldn’t think of doing otherwise. After everything you did for…” Rina’s eyes started to water. She hid her face in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Bram gave her a packet of tissues. Rina dabbed away tears, tried to compose herself. “Was Rav Schulman helpful?”

“Always. The man’s a stone genius.” The priest pushed the Toyota into fourth gear. “I wish he had known my dad well enough to eulogize him. I wish he were speaking instead of me.”

“I’m sure your father wouldn’t have wanted anyone else but you.”

“Flaws and all.” Bram’s voice held a bitter tinge. “I suppose you’re right. At least it will be from the heart. You’ve been okay, Rina?”

“Very well. I had a baby about three years ago-a daughter.”

Bram’s happiness seemed genuine. “That’s wonderful! You got your little girl. And what a lucky little girl she is to have a mother like you. I hope she looks like you.” He let out a gentle laugh. “No offense to your husband.”

“None taken. And you’ve been well?”

“Chugging along. I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long as a parish priest. But it’s a good place. We’ve grown tremendously. At the moment, we’re just about five hundred families.”

“Big congregation.”

“Very. Goes in cycles. Right now, church is in.”

“As if you’ve had nothing to do with it.”

“Not much. We’re practically the only Catholic show in town.” Bram turned onto Foothill Boulevard and headed toward the freeway. “I know several guys from Loyola-went to seminary with them in the States. They’re great about picking up slack during my absences.”

“Then you’re still traveling to Rome.”

“Yes, the Pontiff and I are very tight.”

“It’s a simple statement. You’re allowed to impress me without doing penance.”

Bram smiled. “The Vatican needs people fluent in ancient languages. It’s for their twenty-first-century synod.”

“What are you doing?”

“Comparing the simultaneous writings of various ancient accounts and events-holy or otherwise. I’m attempting to date some recently discovered texts that have shown up over the last ten-plus years. Most of the works are in Aramaic, Hebrew or Latin. Some are in Greek…Phoenician.”

He paused.

“I think several were in Ugaritic.”

“What?”

“Ugaritic. A Canaanite cousin to biblical Hebrew. As opposed to Ugric…which is related to Hungarian. Something you’d know more about than I would. Anyway, by using syntax and colloquial phrases, I can put a century on most of the ancient manuscripts. Then I analyze them to see if the writings fall within the prescribed dogma of the church. If they do, I determine how the See can best use them to its benefit.”

“Very interesting.”

“Pretty esoteric, huh?”

“I feel like I’m back with Yitzy. No wonder you two got along so well. You both spoke the same intellectual language. Left us mere mortals in the dust.”

“Hardly. Whenever you chose to grace us with your presence during one of our many long-winded diatribes, I recall you holding your own quite nicely. That is whenever we piggish males allowed you to get a word in edgewise.”

“You’re pushing seventy-five on the speedometer, Father. Can you please slow down?”

The priest hit the brakes, became somber. “Yitzy was a great teacher, Rina. Better for me than Rabbi Schulman because I wasn’t inhibited with him. I could make mistakes without feeling dumb. And, I did make mistakes. Here I was, a classic language major with a minor in biblical languages, and I couldn’t hold a candle to a high school yeshiva boy.”

“There’s nothing like learning a language as a child.”

“I found that out. Yitzy and I were about a year apart in age. His fluency in the Hebraic texts astounded me. I was humbled rather quickly. It was a pleasure to learn with him.”

“You know, Bram, I’ve always wondered why you became a parish priest as opposed to an academic. I’d always figured you’d wind up teaching at Notre Dame or some other university. You’ve got a professor’s mentality.”

The priest was quiet. Then he said, “I think Yitzy’s death knocked the intellectual fire out of me. Afterward, I wanted to do some actual good in the world, make a difference on a human level. Be a real priest.”

He smiled, but his eyes had misted.

“This sudden, terrible loss…meeting your new husband…seeing you…it evoked all sorts of old feelings. I miss Yitzchak, Rina.” He paused. “I miss you.”

A long pause. Silence except for the car’s elderly straining gears.

Rina said, “I’m not dead.”

Bram smiled. “Thank God.”

“You could call. I do have a phone.”

“It would be awkward.”

Rina knew that was true enough. She didn’t answer. He tapped the wheel. “What am I doing…running off at the mouth about Yitzchak because I can’t deal with my own father’s death. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. Would talking about it help?”

“I don’t know. Right now, I’m so confused, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

A strand of hair was tickling his cheek. Rina would have liked to tuck it behind his ear, but didn’t dare do it. The gesture would have been way too intimate. “You’re pale, Bram. Would you like me to drive?”

“No, I’m…” He sighed. “Why would anyone want to hurt my dad? He didn’t have an enemy in the world.” He tried to bite his nails. Nothing left to gnaw on. “My mom’s acting stoic. I’m worried.”

“Maybe it’s her way of grieving?”

“No. Being a priest, I’ve dealt with grief umpteen times. But this doesn’t seem normal. She’s too…detached.” He paused. “In truth, she’s acting stoned. Could be the sedatives we gave her last night. She had been hooked on them in our early years. You knew that.”

“Actually, no, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Never.”

“Must have slipped past me. Maybe it didn’t come up because she was off of them when we knew each other.” Bram rubbed his eyes. “When we were growing up, my dad was never home. And I mean never except for Sunday morning church. Then we’d go to the afternoon picnics, and he’d go back to the hospit-Now I know you’ve heard all this before.”

“It’s been a while. Refresh my memory.”

“Nothing to say except basically, she raised six kids by herself-three boys at one sitting. It was too much for her. She needed help. With her Fundamentalist beliefs, secular therapy was out. And back then, they didn’t have Christian counselors.”

“What about her church pastor?”

“No, she would never embarrass Dad like that. How could the wife of Doctor Azor Moses Sparks possibly have any problems. To the outside world, she was the model mother. Strong, solid, a firm churchgoing woman. And most of the time, while I was growing up, I viewed her that way, too. Like most mothers, she was our family anchor.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Rina nodded.

“But she had another side,” Bram continued. “Scared, frightened. Left alone in an empty bed most of the night. She had a hard time falling asleep. She turned to pills. Barbiturates. You know how they work. At first, they knock you out so you do sleep. Then, your body acclimates. You either take them or you bounce off walls. And with six of us, she did her fair share of bouncing. On the outside, she could maintain. But there were times…her mood swings…they were sometimes very hard to deal with.”

“Why didn’t her doctor wean her off the medication?”

“What doctor? She got the pills from my father.”

Rina held back surprise.

“Actually, Dad gave them to me, told his golden boy to keep a watch on her, especially after Magdeleine was born. He was worried about postpartum depression, which she had with Michael. At the grown-up age of fifteen, I was in charge of dispensing Class Two narcotics to my mother.”

Rina remained silent.

“Anyway, she did wean herself off by the time we finished high school. I hope and pray she can handle my father’s death without a major relapse.”

“You still have siblings at home, don’t you?”

“My youngest brother and sister. But they never knew her as an addict, thank God. None of my siblings knew. Later on, Luke figured it out. Could interpret her odd behavior for what it was. Probably because of his own illicit drug use.”

“Is he still an addict?”

“Thank God, no. He’s been clean for three years. But I’m concerned about him, too. He’s fragile. His marriage is unstable. My sister-in-law is a very difficult person.”

“Dana.”

“You’ve got a good memory.”

“The girl who broke your heart.”

“A very good memory.” He kissed his cross again. “Te amo, Jesu Cristo. There are things worse than celibacy.”

Rina smiled and so did he. Then he turned grave. “I know we’re all our brothers’ keepers. We are responsible for each other’s welfare. But sometimes I wonder if I’m strong enough.” He rolled his eyes again. “Now I’m whining.”

“You’re talking.”

“I’m rambling actually.”

Rina looked down. “It’s good for you to talk. Bram, I really do have a phone number.”

“I appreciate it, Rina Miriam, but it wouldn’t work, with your being married…I’d feel…He’d feel…” He waited a beat. “Did you tell your husband about us?”

“I haven’t been able to get hold of him, Bram. He slept at the station house last night. I’ve left him messages to call me. But we keep missing each other.”

The car was silent.

Rina said, “I’ll tell him. I know it could be a problem with your father’s investigation. Not that you’re a suspect-”

“He’s going to be looking into me…into all of us as soon as my father’s will is read. Because I just found out, we all inherited a lot of money.”

Rina was silent.

Bram said, “You’re not involved in his professional life, correct?”

“Generally, no.”

“That’s good. Because things could get dicey. Some of my sibs are in deep debt. Deeper than he’s aware of at the moment. But I’m sure he’ll find out. He’s going to start doing background checks, asking us lots of personal questions. The past could come up. That’s why you’ve got to tell him you know me.”

“If I see him at the service, I’ll tell him on the spot.” Rina tried to rein in her sick stomach. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“Me?” Bram let out a soft laugh. “No, my life is an open book. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be friction.” Traffic started to slow. “We’re getting close.”

A thunderous roar from a motorcycle brigade came zooming past. A deafening noise. Rina held her ears and looked quizzically at Bram.

“My father loved motorcycles,” he said. “Rode with a club on weekends. I’m assuming that caravan was his riding buddies.”

“Your father rode motorcycles?”

“Faithfully for about the last two years.” Bram downshifted. “Saturdays. Not Sundays, of course. This hobby of his came on really quickly and soon became a passion. He got hooked up with kind of a hard-core bunch. I met them a few times. Like everyone else, they were in awe of him, of course. But it was a strange association.”

“I’ll say.”

“He even gave money to some of their causes…much to my mother’s chagrin.”

“What kinds of causes could bikers possibly have? Save the local methedrine lab?”

“Yeah, declare it a landmark so no one can touch it.” Bram shrugged ignorance. “My father, with all his education and knowledge, wasn’t very worldly. Flatter him a little and he was an easy mark. If someone needed a handout, he was there with open pockets.”

“A handout is one thing. But giving money to outlaws?”

The priest shrugged. “‘For just as by the one man’s disobedience, the many were made sinners, so by one man’s obedience, the many will be made righteous.’”

Rina smiled. “I don’t know the text.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Romans five, nineteen. It refers to the redemption of mankind from original sin by Jesus’ grace. Maybe Dad thought himself on a mission. Because he was really into this club.”

Bram thought a moment.

“Or maybe the reason was much more plebeian. Maybe they made him feel young and irresponsible-a word that’s not normally in my father’s vocabulary. They had him all hepped up on some kind of environmental freedom petition. To my jaded eye, it looked like a scam. To Dad, it was his version of Save the Whales. How’re the boys, Rina?”

“Big.”

“They get along well with…him?”

“You may call him Peter.”

“I will call him Lieutenant.”

Rina smiled, looked away. “They were very young when Yitzchak died…especially Jacob. Peter is the only father he’s really ever known. He adores them both. And they love him as well.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Abram, one doesn’t replace the other.”

“But life goes on.”

“Yes, it does.”

Bram waited a beat, then said, “I’m really happy for you, Rina. Sincerely. It’s taken me a while to get to this place. But I’ve arrived nonetheless.”

“Thank you, I…are you happy, Abram?”

“Yes, I am-I mean I’m not happy at this moment. But I feel I made the right decision.”

“That’s wonderful.” Rina began wringing her hands. Softly, the priest put his palm over her tightened fists.

“What’s on your mind, Rina?”

She relaxed her hands. “Nothing.”

Bram pulled his hand away and waited.

Rina said, “What did you mean when you said there might be friction. Did you mean friction between you and Peter?”

“Maybe.”

“What kind of friction?”

The priest sighed.

Rina said, “Forget I said anything.”

“No, I’ll answer you.” He paused. “You know we’ve told each other private things. Not officially under the sacramental seal…but things in confidence. Have you thought about what you’ll do if he starts asking questions about me?”

“Why should he? Our past has no bearing on this case.”

“But what if he thinks it does?”

No one spoke. The car ground to a halt as they reached the grounds of the church. Rina looked out the window…mobbed with people.

“I’ve got to get out of this lane.” He jerked the car to the left, then made a sharp right until he was riding on the grass. An attendant flagged him down, then saw who it was.

“Father Sparks, I’m very sorry for your loss.” He looked down. “Everyone’s loss.”

“Thank you for your sympathy, Ralph.”

“You didn’t ride in the limo with the others?”

“No, I was tied up with other things. Where should I park?”

“Just go straight over the grass.” Ralph pointed out toward the field. “All the way in front of the line. I’ll radio Tim that you’re on your way.”

“Thank you.” Bram jammed the car into second gear, the tires stalling in the soft dirt. He downshifted back to first and tried again. The Toyota bucked forward.

“Another long day.” His eyes watered. “There’s going to be lots of them. What a nightmare! My heart’s coming out of my chest.”

“You’ll get through it.” Rina spoke assuredly. “Everything’s a blur now…time is endless…but the day will end, I promise you. And you’ll survive.”

“You should know.”

“Believe me, I do.” But Rina wasn’t as certain as her words. Trying to keep her stomach from coming through her throat. Seeing the black limos, seeing him dressed in black. Too many memories.

“Rina, about what I said-”

“He won’t interrogate me, Bram. He’s not like that.”

“I phrased it badly. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

Rina buried her head in her hands. “You didn’t imply anything. I’m acting defensive. I’m sorry.”

“Rina, just let me get this thought out, okay? Because I don’t know when-if ever-we’ll be alone again.”

“Go ahead.”

“Rina, without a doubt, your loyalties lie with your husband. But mine lie with my family. If push should come to shove, I bind with my kin, no matter what. Your husband may ask me questions that I may not answer. That could anger him, frustrate him. Maybe…just maybe, he’ll come to you for personal information about me.”

“I don’t think Peter would do that.”

“Then I’m worrying for nothing. I’m just mentioning it because I don’t want you to feel divided in your loyalties. If it should happen…you have my permission to tell him whatever you feel comfortable with. The last thing I want is to create conflict between the two of you.”

“It won’t happen.”

“Good.”

“Divided loyalties,” she whispered. “I detect a pattern.”

Bram raised his brow. “You said it, Rina Miriam, not I.”