“Every morning after I wake up, I take out my siddur and daven shemoneh esreih. And afterwards, every single morning, I pray to Hashem for understanding and forgiveness of my transgressions…Sometimes, I pray for the strength to do what I should have done a long time ago—send you away until you’ve become a Jew.”

She turned to him.

“But I must not have the proper kavanah—intent—when I pray, because I never have the fortitude to say goodbye.” She brushed a tear off her cheek. “Do you hate me for feeling that way?”

“No.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “We both have misgivings.”

“Do you not want to convert?” she asked.

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. But it isn’t easy to throw away nearly forty years of conditioning, especially when your own parents are very vocal about their disapproval.” He smiled sadly. “We’re getting it from both ends.”

“You told your parents you’re converting?”

“Sure. It’s no secret. I wrote them a letter.” He grimaced. “I wrote to my mother and told her I fell in love with an Orthodox Jew and I was converting to her faith. You know what she wrote back?”

“What?”

“She wrote, ‘You got singed in the fire the first time around, Peter. This time you’ll burn.’ She wasn’t nuts about Jan being Jewish, and Jan wasn’t all that Jewish. But at least I didn’t convert. This was too much for her.”

He shrugged and Rina took his hand.

“That was an awful thing to say,” she said indignantly.

“Aah, I couldn’t even blame her. How do you tell your parents that you reject their values but you don’t reject them? I hurt them, Rina. I spat in their faces.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Decker said nothing. She threw her arms around his waist, leaned her head on his chest, and gave him a bear hug.

“I love you, Kiddo,” he said softly.

“I love you, too,” she answered. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own guilt, I’ve never considered the other side.”

He smiled and kissed her forehead.

“Have you spoken to your parents since the letter?” she asked.

“Yeah. I called them about a week ago. They were civil. Said if we were ever down their way to stop by—as if they were talking to a casual acquaintance.”

He tightened his embrace.

“Rina, we have a lot going against us: meeting under such lousy circumstances, the difference in our ages and backgrounds. We can try and say screw it all—we’re our own people and love is all that matters—but you know as well as I that the baggage our parents loaded on our backs is with us forever. Let’s both try to be tolerant of them—and tolerant with each other.”

She nodded.

“I love you,” he said. “Kiss me.”