Decker laughed. “Go on. Bram was writing a book on the Bible.”

Rina organized her thoughts. “Bram was young and very brash. Apparently, he waltzed into Rav Schulman’s office one day and started asking him questions about the Talmud. Bram was lucky that he had picked Rav Schulman who treats everyone with kindness.”

Decker nodded. “More than they deserve.”

“Probably much more than Bram deserved. The Rav was patient. Rather than brushing him off-which almost anyone else would have done-the Rav struck a deal with him. There’s an eesur-a prohibition-against teaching Talmud to gentiles. The Rav got out of it by telling Bram that he’d be happy to answer his questions just as soon as Bram had mastered Chumash. Of course, Bram wasn’t anywhere near that level.”

“A good dodge.”

“A very good dodge.” Rina smiled. “But Bram was clever, too. He told Rav Schulman that he couldn’t possibly master Chumash to the Rav’s specifications because he didn’t know how we taught Chumash. So he needed a Chumash teacher. Rav Schulman couldn’t teach him personally, but he knew Bram wouldn’t give up. Bram was very persuasive, back then.”

“I could tell.”

“He was more than persuasive, he had the ability to manipulate words. The Rav recognized this right away. He decided to send Bram to one of his students, someone whose emmunah-whose faith-was ironclad and indisputable. So he sent him to Yitzchak.”

“They hit it off right away?”

“Not quite. Yitzy’s knowledge of Chumash was photographic-commentaries and all. Yitzy had a photographic memory about everything. But he had also been a ba’al koreh-a reader of the Torah. So he knew Torah-Chumash-comma by comma or rather, trupp by trupp. So along came Bram. At first, they just learned a little, went over a few basics. Yitzy was feeling him out, trying to ascertain Bram’s level…which he thought was pretty high for someone trained outside the system. Then slowly, slowly…I could almost see the wheels turning inside his brain…Bram started trying to put things over on Yitz. You know, showing off what he had learned, coming up with an obscure Jewish source, positive that Yitzy had never heard about it.”

“Wrong approach?”

“Very misguided. Yitzy would listen politely. Then he would quote the source letter perfect, and come back with more than a few of his own sources, gently showing Bram why he was misinformed, flooding him with information the poor guy wasn’t equipped to process. By the end of a month, Yitzy had unwittingly demolished him. Then they got along great. Because then, Bram was ready to learn.”

Decker said, “One couldn’t have expected a Catholic seminary student to know as much Chumash as a yeshiva bocher. It wasn’t Bram’s main text.”

“You’re right. I knew that. Yitzy knew that. Rav Schulman knew that. It just took Bram a little while to catch on. Anyway, they became very good friends. Even Yitzy didn’t realize how good a friend Bram was until he really needed him.”

Indifferently, Decker said, “What happened with Bram’s book?”

“Oh that!” Rina rolled her eyes. “He had a contract for it. Something like Messianic Teachings in the Old Testament, as they call it. Pretty offensive to a person of strong Jewish beliefs.”

“Like Yitzchak?”

“Like me. I read part of it. For me, it was as if he was playing exegesis games with our holy book and using it for his own purposes.”

“But isn’t that what he believes?”

“Absolutely. From Bram’s point of view, he was simply interpreting the Bible the way he had been taught. One thing I should make clear. Even with Yitzchak as his friend, Bram never wavered in his faith. Last time I saw Bram, he was just as strong a Catholic as he is today. But after learning with Yitzy, knowing him personally, knowing how the Catholic Church had persecuted Jews over the centuries, Bram had some misgivings about publishing his work.”

Rina sighed, poured herself a glass of iced tea.

“Somehow the powers in Rome got hold of the unfinished manuscript.”

“Somehow they got hold of it?”

Rina smiled. “You’re right. He probably sent it to them. Anyway, they thought it was a very scholarly work. About three, four months after Yitzy died, Bram was invited to the Vatican to complete two different versions of the book-one for the clergy, another more simplified version for the Catholic schools. He was also promised ordination by the Pope at St. Peter’s Basilica through some hotshot seminary in Rome…in those gorgeous gardens overlooking the city. Pontifical something. He called it ‘New Men’ for short.”

“Ah, the power of power. Bram published the book.”

“To Bram’s credit, he asked me what he should do.”

“You told him to go ahead. He knew you would.”

“Probably.” Rina paused a moment. “Yes, I told him to go ahead. I didn’t want the responsibility of stifling someone’s golden opportunity. Besides, as strange as this may sound, I knew the priesthood was his calling.”

“Did you ever see him after he left for Rome?”

“Yes. Apparently, he came back right after I took the family to New York for the summer. I almost stayed there permanently. Come to think of it, I never could figure out why I returned to L.A. All the men were in New York.”

“Not all the men.”

Rina grinned. “Obviously not all the men, darling.”

Decker grinned back. “So you saw Bram after he came back from Rome.”

“I did.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Nothing to tell. By then, he was an ordained priest. I took him to a kosher restaurant in the city. Boy, did we get stares.”

“And that was that?”

Rina squinted at her husband. “Yes, Peter. That was that.”

“Sorry.” Decker held up his palms as if he were fending her off. “Sorry. Polite conversation between you two?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask what you talked about?”

“Mostly, he talked about Rome, about the Vatican and the churches and the sculpture and the artwork and the gardens…the Ville D’este. He just went on and on about Italy. Like a travelogue. Stilted conversation. We were uncomfortable with each other.”

Inwardly, Decker breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, you two didn’t have much in common, I guess.”

“At that point, no.” Her smile was forced. “Anything else, dear?”

“No.” Decker held back a grin. “Better quit while I’m ahead.”

“Good advice for gamblers.” She kissed his lips this time. “Even better advice for curious spouses.”

Wiping the dish, Rina thought about the Jewish concept of shalom bais, the keeping of marital peace. So important a tenet, a person was allowed to do everything in his or her power to keep home and hearth tranquil, even if it meant slight variations on the truth.

Because “that” wasn’t exactly “that.”

She had seen Bram one time after their stilted lunch. About a year later. Nothing had transpired between them, so why bother relating the incident to Peter. On some level, she knew it would have angered him. Needless to do such a thing…

She stowed the dish in the cupboard, guilt gnawing at her gut as she thought back to their awkward meeting.

Running into Bram at the local supermarket. Watching him from afar. He had been with a group of men-three or four of them, all wearing collars. They had been joking around, having a good time being young and free.

Remembering Bram clearly, his hip cocked, his head thrown back with laughter, Rina hadn’t ever recalled him looking so happy. She didn’t approach him, almost walked away unnoticed. At the last minute, he spied her, excused himself, followed her one aisle over.

They exchanged pleasantries. He spoke of his successes with Rome, of the recent publication of his book, of his new assignment as a residential priest over at the local church. A big church, he had told her. Prestigious. She was thrilled that he was doing so well and told him so. Holding back her own joy and rapidly beating heart until the time was right.