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offering his perspective. “For Muslim fundamentalists, even questioning Islam is severely punishable blasphemy. Without exposure to other ideas, their way seems the only way. You’re a believer or a non-believer, no in-between categories. And this isn’t even original. Remember the Salem witch hunts? Remember the Inquisition?”
    “But Jay, you said yourself, Islam isn’t all radicals. When radicals come to this country, aren’t they exposed at last to new ideas?  How can they miss other ways of thinking and acting?”
    “Don’t oversimplify, Jen. Even in the U.S., where citizens can read anything they like, attend any church they wish and question all religions, many stick with their original religious exposure from the cradle to the grave. Their parents’ religious values influence them even if they question them later. Imagine growing up where church and state are combined. To draw a group even closer together it’s handy to invent a scapegoat to hate, some guilty person or group who deserve loathing. You see that at work even in sports where the other team’s athletes are the ‘bad guys.’ Right now the Jews, Americans and British fill this need for radical Muslims. Even if we understand how radicals get that way, we can’t allow them to murder the opposition to further their cause.”
    “You’re right, Jay. I love how you always think these things through.” She changed the subject. “By the way, please tell Tony I’m bringing dinner tonight. I feel so sad for them. When his children go back to their own worlds after the funeral, he’ll live all alone in a big empty house. How will he do it? Jay, I can’t imagine life without you.”
    Jason walked over and pulled her into his arms. “Jen,” he soothed, “Kirsten would appreciate what a true friend of hers you are to help Tony. You got him through the emergency room ordeal, and you’ll watch out for him in the weeks ahead. Of course, you’re affected by what’s happened; you’ve been an integral part of it. We both have.” He kissed the top of her head. “We have lots of wonderful years ahead of us.” He sang a few bars of “Be happy, don’t worry,” accompanying the lyrics with uncoordinated, off-beat body sways.
    His antics made her smile. She hugged him close. “Thanks, Jay, for understanding.”
    “Hey, isn’t that what we do for each other?”
    “Do you want me to come along to help plan the church service?”
    “No, I think we can handle it. His kids arrive this afternoon, and they want to be together as a family tonight. Speaking of family, what did Hannah want at lunch today?”
    “She and Adam are moving into the old Yates house while they subdivide his property.” Jennifer explained her concerns and her home-inspection advice.
    “Well, they’re young and eager…” he said with a far-away look.
    “…and idealistic, imagining nothing could change their happiness.”
    “We can relate to that, can’t we?” he chuckled. “Well, maybe not the young part any more…”
    She nodded, thinking of Kirsten: warm and lively one minute, cold and dead the next.  “We better value each moment and people precious to us. Like you, dear Jay.”
    He chuckled. “I love you too, Jen. Nobody gets more out of the moments we’re on earth than you. You hit the floor running every day.”
    “Are you up for dinner at Kazan tonight?”
    “I’ll be more than ready for a pleasant evening by then. Turkish food sounds just right. I hope Zaynel is there with my favorite doner kebab tonight.” He looked at his watch. “Well, gotta go get Tony.” She waved as he closed the front door behind him.
    Jennifer sat still, thinking about their conversation. Her mind wandered back to the Donnegans. Was Tony’s decision to cremate Kirsten accidental, as Jason suggested, or deliberate? If deliberate, what could he possibly need to hide?
    12
    Thursday, 4:39 PM
    A few minutes later Jennifer stepped onto her front porch, waving as Jason and Tony