Rhapsody by Judith Gould Page B

looking from
her son to her husband and back again. Then she quietly sat down in
shocked stupefaction, listening to her son as he switched from Bach
to Mozart. When at last her initial shock had worn off, she and
Dmitri quietly discussed the spectacle before them, then sat at the
piano with Misha, testing him, trying to determine what he knew and
what he was capable of.
    After they had worked with him at the piano
for an hour or more, she kissed Misha, and he tottered off to his
building blocks. She and Dmitri debated the best way to deal with
the prodigy in their midst, although any discussion was an
unnecessary formality for Sonia, because she knew deep down inside
exactly what they must do. She wiped her eyes with a finger and
cleared her throat, then turned to her husband. "Dmitri?"
    He looked at her. "Yes, Sonia?" He could tell
from the bright intensity of her eyes that a plan was feverishly
developing in her mind and that she could hardly contain her
excitement.
    Sonia took one of his hands in her own and
looked into his eyes. "Dmitri, you know and I know that Misha is
very special."
    "Yes, Sonia," Dmitri answered, his voice
almost quavering. He sighed. "You are right, as always, Sonia. You
are right. But we'll simply have to do the best we can. What else
can we do?"
    Soma's eyes gleamed with fiery determination
as she gripped his hand hard and said in a low, intense voice, "We
will emigrate, Dmitri! We will leave Russia so that Misha can get
the training he has to have. We both know that the only place he
can get what he needs is New York."
    Dmitri jerked at her words and remained
speechless for a long while. Finally he said: "You are tempting
fate, Sonia. It's very difficult to emigrate."
    "But—" Sonia interjected heatedly.
    "But," Dmitri said quickly, squeezing her
hand with his, "I think you are right, as usual."
    Sonia felt relief flood through her, and
tears of joy came into her eyes. She was reminded now of why she
first fell in love with Dmitri Levin. He had never been afraid of
taking chances, not with her. When they went into something
together, no matter how hare-brained the scheme might seem, she
felt indomitable and fearless, for Dmitri was at her side. And now,
once again, Dmitri would back up her—and Misha—all the way.
    She wrapped her arms around her husband, and
Dmitri hugged her to him tightly.
    She drew back at last and said to him: "Then
it is settled. We will start the proceedings to get exit visas at
once. Perhaps in a year to two, maybe even sooner, we will be able
to leave."
    "Yes, Sonia. Yes, yes," Dmitri said, hugging
her again.
    Sonia leaned back. "We may have to go to
Israel first," she said. "But no matter. He can get very good
training there, to start. Then who knows? It's only a short hop
from there to New York City."
    She threw her arms about her husband's neck
again and kissed him on the lips. "It will work, Dmitri. I know it
will. It will work out perfectly."
    Dmitri nodded enthusiastically, but thought:
Maybe in another world it would work out perfectly. But he said:
"You are right, Sonia. Yes, as usual, my Sonia is right."
     
     

Chapter Eight
     
    It was on March 16, 1972, when the world of
Sonia and Dmitri Levin and their son fell apart. The snow and ice
had just started to thaw in Moscow after nearly five months. It had
begun as a perfect day, the first hint of spring in the air
exciting them with the prospect of being able to take Misha to one
of the nearby parks, or perhaps for an all-day outing in Leninskiye
Gory—the Lenin Hills.
    It was not to be.
    Early that morning, before they had finished
their breakfast, they heard the sounds of thundering boots on the
stairs leading up to their attic. Then there was a pounding on the
parlor door.
    Sonia looked with wide, wary eyes at Dmitri.
"What... ?"
    Dmitri shrugged, as if to say, Who knows?
    But he did know. Oh, yes, he knew without any
doubts whatsoever. He quietly set down his cup of black coffee,
dabbed his lips with a