“Peter?”

“What?”

“Once you conned Shlomo’s name out of me, I should have told you the rest. I’m sorry.”

His expression softened, and he plopped his baseball cap atop her head. “Take care of yourself.”

“Your daughter’s lovely.”

He gave her a wide smile.

“I’ll tell her you said that.”

Even though Rina showed up early for the Bible class, Ruthie Zipperstein and Chana Marcus were already there, deep in conversation. She liked the book they were studying-Samuel-for it described the excitement of the reign of King David. Not only was the book of Samuel interesting historically, but it provided magnificent insights into the frailties of human nature. David, the righteous Jew who did the unspeakable to obtain the woman he wanted. A leader, a learned man, a sinner, and humble servant of Hashem.

David was also a redhead.

She sat down and told the women where her boys were. She knew they’d find out anyway, so it might as well come from her mouth.

“Rina, I can’t believe you let the boys go with him.”

“It’s just a baseball game, Ruthie.”

“The high school boys were thinking about getting a group rate to a Dodgers game,” Chana said. “Why didn’t you wait and send the boys with them?”

“Chana, they’ve been talking about getting tickets for four months. The season is practically over. Plus, the seats Peter got-”

“Peter?” Chana asked.

“Detective Decker got box seats. Some commissioner gave them to him. I just couldn’t put Shmueli off any longer.”

“You’re getting awfully friendly with him, don’t you think?” Ruthie said.

“I don’t have to justify my actions to anyone. Hashem knows what’s in my heart.”

The women made no attempt to hide their disapproval.

“Rina, I’ve got a cousin coming out from Baltimore,” Chana said. “He’s twenty-eight and a very nice boy. He reminds me of Yitzchak, except he’s a little more fun-loving. He’s already asked me about Universal Studios and Disneyland-”

“When’s he coming out?” Rina asked.

“Chol Hamoed Sukkos.”

She shrugged. “If he’s nice, I’ll go out with him. Where does he learn? Ner Yisroel?”

“He actually just got smicha. He’s looking for a job. Maybe even here. We can always use a good Rav.”

“Did you mention me?” Rina asked.

“In passing,” Chana admitted.

“Did you tell him I had children?”

“Yes.”

“And what did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He said he’d like to meet you. I told him how pretty you are. Shimon has an eye for pretty women. So then I’ll tell him to call you?”

“All right,” Rina said unenthusiastically. She opened the navi and reread the passage in which David first saw Bathsheva. “…from the roof, he saw her bathing. And she was very beautiful to look upon.”

She wasn’t simply bathing, Rina knew. She was immersing herself in the mikvah.

Rina found him sitting underneath a sprawling elm. Directly behind the shade tree, filling the air with the pungent scent of menthol, was a grove of eucalyptus that tapered into the thick, woodland brush. The day sweltered under a blazing furnace of a sky. Briefly she thought about her boys at the game and sunstroke, but then dismissed worry from her mind. Peter had common sense.

Moshe had a prayer book on his lap, his eyes fixed on the page. He rocked back and forth on his haunches, muttering words that extolled the glory of the Lord. He was dressed as always: black coat, wrinkled white shirt, threadbare wool slacks and a tattered black hat. Beads of sweat had coalesced on his forehead, but he seemed unbothered by the fire of the sun.

Rina sat down on a mound of leaves a foot away from him. He was neither happy nor upset by her presence. He was oblivious to it.

“Moshele,” she said softly.

The man rocked back and forth.

“Moshele, I know you hear me. Please, answer me, Moishy.”

His eyes trailed a path to her own. He nodded.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Baruch Hashem, I’m fine, thank you. Yes, very fine, thank you very much. I’m fine, Baruch Hashem.”

“Moshe, did Zvi explain to you what went on that night?”

“Yes. Yes, he did. He explained everything. Yes he did.”

“Did he explain to you how you had to stay out of the hills at night?”

“Yes, he did. Thank you very much. He did. He did.”

“Moshe, it is very important that you listen to him. You can’t go in the hills at night until the police catch the attacker. Otherwise, they’re going to think you’re the attacker.”

“Yes, I understand. I understand what you are saying. Thank you very much. I understand.”

“I’ve seen you in the hills at night, Moshe. Flo and I saw you two times last week. And I saw you on Shabbos when Steve Gilbert walked me home. You have to stop wandering alone at night. You must stay put for your own sake, do you understand?”

“I understand. Thank you very much,” he murmured. “I understand. I understand what you are saying. I understand, thank you.”

“Moishy, it’s important. It’s important for you, it’s important for shem tov-for your good name. It would be a chillul Hashem if someone mistook you for the attacker. We cannot let the goyim think we’re a bunch of hoodlums.”

“That’s right. That’s correct. Shem tov is very important. It is very important to have a good name. Rav Hillel says it’s very important. He was a gadol, Rav Hillel. It’s very important.”

The conversation was breaking her heart. She remembered him and Yitzchak, the sparks in their eyes as they learned, the animation, the excitement. Now one was dead, the other a zombie. For a second she felt overwhelmingly angry at Hashem. Yitzchak was bad enough, but how could He abandon Moshe so cruelly? But her ire was quickly quelled by the immediate guilt that followed whenever she doubted her faith.

“Please, Moshele. Stay out of the brush at night. Please.”

“Yes I will. Thank you very much. I will. Thank you very much. I will.”

She got up and left, leaving him to flounder in his own world.

Rina greeted them at the threshold of her door.

“They won!” Sammy shouted excitedly.

“I know,” Rina said, smiling. “I tuned in the game on the radio.”

To Decker’s surprise, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

“Boys,” she said, “why don’t you take Detective Decker, Cindy, and Eric into the backyard and show them our orange tree?”

“Huh?” Sammy asked quizzically.

“Go on,” she said sweetly, prodding them in the right direction.

“Ma at osah, Eema?” asked Sammy.

“Shmuel Dov, lechu kulchem hachutza achshav!” she said forcefully, then quickly smiled at the others. “It’s a beautiful tree. Excuse me for a moment.” She went inside the house leaving them marooned on her doorstep.

Sammy frowned. “Wanna see a tree?” he asked.

“Sure, let’s see the tree,” replied Decker.

He wondered what the hell was going on and was resentful that Rina hadn’t pulled him aside to explain herself.

“C’mon,” said Jake.

Cindy giggled. “Is this a rare Orthodox custom, Dad? After baseball games, one pays homage to the holy orange tree?”

“That’s a snide and rude remark, Cynthia,” Decker snapped.

Cindy’s gaiety vanished, and she looked downward. Decker sighed and put his arm around his daughter.

“I don’t understand this place either, Cindy.”

“I was just making a joke.”

“I know. I’m feeling a little put upon now. Sorry.”

“Well, here’s the tree,” Jake announced. It was a fifteen-foot mandarin orange loaded with fruit.

“Bitchin,” said Eric flatly.

Sammy picked an orange, peeled it, mumbled a prayer, and popped a section into his mouth.

“They’re real sweet.” He handed the rest to Decker, who gave it to the teenagers.