“I nearly got blown up today, Rabbi. A bomb went off and I was saved by seconds. I thought it might be a good time to pause for reflection. I sat for two hours tonight and prayed, Rabbi. I prayed and meditated and contemplated and came up with this. Today notwithstanding, there are times when I feel God is omnipresent. I feel Him everywhere I go, in everything I do. And there are times I think there’s nothing in the skies but an ozone layer. I’m not an agnostic. I’m not waiting for God to come down and prove His existence to me, because sometimes I just know He’s out there. I can’t explain why I feel so strongly one minute and like a total atheist the next. In short, sometimes I have doubts.”

The old man looked at him impassively and extended his hand across the desktop.

“Join the club, Peter.”

20

“I know it’s late,” Decker said. “I won’t stay long.”

Rina stood at the threshold of the open door, then stepped aside and let him in.

“Did you learn with Rav Schulman tonight?”

“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.