Cries of the Children(21)

“Ten-year-old boys don’t get exhausted. Rachel,” Eric pointed out. “Do you want to play baseball, like my daughter suggested?”

“I don’t really like baseball,” Steven admitted.

“But I’ll bet you’d like a nice cold drink,” Rachel said. “We have a cook, Helga, who makes wonderful lemonade.”

“Okay,” Steven said.

Steven’s eyes wandered in a hundred different directions as they passed through the house. His mouth hung open in amazement to see the beautiful antique furniture and stone fireplace. There was a huge harp in one corner of the living room, and a grand piano set to the other side. Noticing it had caught his attention, Rachel said:

“I understand you play, Steven.”

“I like music,” Steven said.

“You can use any instrument in the house,” Eric said, “as long as you respect it.”

“You never let me touch the harp!” Tatiana protested.

“That’s because you just yank on the strings,” Olivia said.

Eric put a hand on each girl’s shoulder and steered them toward the kitchen.

“We can talk about this later,” he said. “Right now, a cold drink sounds good to me too.”

In the kitchen Helga was listening to a country/western station. The sight of this blond braided woman singing a Judd’s tune in a German accent was amusing. Steven watched her in fascination as he drank his glass of lemonade.

“Helga enjoys singing,” Rachel said with a slight air of apology in her voice.

“And what is wrong with that?” Helga asked. “It is good music.”

A new song came on. Steven turned to the radio, then said, “That’s Tammy Wynette.”

“Do you like country music?” Eric asked.

“I like all kinds of music,” Steven said. “I play classical most of all, though.”

“Maybe you could play for us,” Rachel suggested.

Steven pushed his chair back from the kitchen table. Without a word, he turned and hurried from the room.

“Now you’ve scared him,” Eric said. “Kids don’t like being put on the spot like that.”

Rachel glared at her husband.

“I did not put him on the spot,” she said. “And don’t tell me what kids like, as if I don’t know anything about them. The girls are my—”

Her words were cut off by the sounds of the Moonlight Sonata being played so flawlessly that all of them were rendered speechless. When the music stopped, Eric and Rachel sat staring at each other.

“My God,” Eric whispered, “how can a child play like that?”

Rachel nodded. “Nina wasn’t joking when she said he was musically gifted.”

Helga, who had stopped in the middle of washing dishes to listen, said, “It will be a pleasure to hear such music. I’m glad that the boy is staying.”

Tatiana jumped from her chair, racing from the room.

“I want to hear something else!” she cried.

When she reached the living room, she found Steven standing behind the open piano bench going through the music. He pulled out a book of opera favorites and chose to play the “Habañera” from Carmen. It was as beautiful and perfect as the first piece he’d played. As he went through it, Eric stared at his wife. In turn, she was watching Steven carefully. There was such admiration in her eyes that Eric might have guessed Steven was her own flesh and blood, not a child who was staying with them only temporarily.

The admiration in her eyes scared him, although he really wasn’t sure why.





10


COMPLETELY SHAKEN by what had happened, Lorraine did not speak again until she and Bettina were safely locked inside the apartment. Bettina helped her wash away the dirt from the subway platform, and the warm water had a calming effect. Bits of memory had come back to her during the subway ride home, and now she told Bettina about them.

“Bettina,” she said as the woman brushed her hair, “one of those boys knew me. I remember something now. I was with a man last night. A man who had a gun. He said he was on . . .”

She paused to remember his words.

“On ‘official business,’ “ she said.

Bettina turned her around and looked at her with concern.

“He had a gun?”

“I . . . I think so,” Lorraine said. “I can sort of see him pointing something black. I think he shot someone, but I’m not sure.”

Bettina sighed. “No wonder that gang went after you.”

She wondered if the man had been the child’s father, some Mafia hoodlum who didn’t care that he put his child’s life in danger.

“Was he your father?” she asked.