“Yes, your Peter. Trust me, Rina, I know these things. If he were any more overt about his love for you, he’d be wearing his heart on a sandwich board instead of his sleeve. I’m very happy for you. For the boys as well. Your family is a gift from God.”

“So we both have things to be thankful about.”

“True.” But his face was pale, sketched with worry lines. Rina wanted to hold him, comfort him as he had done with her. But that was impossible. Different places, different times.

“Are you going to be all right, Bram?”

“Who knows?” He shrugged. “God gave Abraham ten trials. Let’s see how Abram does with one.”

29

If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, Rina had a monopoly on cardiac tissue. By five o’clock Sunday evening, the entire house had become aromatic with the scents of savory herbs, onions, and garlic. Evocative smells. Of Decker’s bimonthly childhood Sunday dinners. A rotating affair with the relatives. His mother toiling in the kitchen, wet with heat, a starched apron covering her best black dress, a small strand of pearls around her upright neck. The men in her life—Decker’s father, his brother Randy, and him, sitting at the table, stiff in ill-fitting suits. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. As soon as the food was served, things began to loosen up. The adults conversing, kids acting like kids, good times…

He entered the kitchen. Rina’s face was damp, her hair falling down her back in a neat, compact braid. She wore a free-flowing cotton maroon dress that ended midcalf, with midelbow sleeves. Her feet were housed in flats. Though simply dressed, she was still a stunner.

He said, “Looks like you only made enough for the U.S. Army. What do I tell the Navy when it shows up?”

“Funny.” Rina stirred a pot of soup. “I know I cooked too much for five adults. But it’ll freeze.”

“You need a taste tester?”

“You’re volunteering for the assignment? What a jewel you are, Peter.”

“It’s a nasty job, but someone’s got to do it.”

Rina gave him a spoonful of soup. Split pea with beef marrow bones. Decker’s taste buds were in heaven. “Good.”

“Thank you.”

“This looks like enough for me. What are the others going to eat?”

Rina hit him, returned her attention to the rack of lamb in the oven, basted the riblets with a mustard seed-honey sauce. She stood, wiped her hands on a towel. “Why did you invite Marge over?”

“Just to be friendly. Why?”

“You weren’t planning to discuss your cases?”

Decker paused. “Maybe something’ll come up in passing. But that wasn’t the purpose of the invitation. Are you worried we’ll say things in front of the boys?”

“No, of course not.” She checked on the pilaf and turned down the fire.