Mrs. Horowitz marched off to the kitchen, leaving us alone at long last.
“Play for me, Natasha,” I said.
She turned her eyes to me, and the green light in them flickered into a smile.
“What kind of music d’you like?” she asked.
To which I said, “I’d like to know what you like.”
“My favorite is The Symphony No. 5 in C minor by Ludwig van Beethoven,” she said, “but this is not the right moment for it. I know! I’ll play a special song for you. Papa used to sing it to me, when I was little.”
The first notes came softly, tugging at my heart. They brought back long-forgotten Yiddish words, in the voice of my mother. “Bei mir bist du shein,” she sang to me. “Bei mir host du chein. Bei mir bist du alles oif di velt.”
Natasha closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the music. She started swaying slightly as she played and from time to time, tipped her head backwards, letting it wash over her face, her lips. Fascinated I found myself drawing nearer. By the rosy blush that spread up her cheeks I knew that she could sense my closeness.
In her soft, velvety voice, she started singing, “To me you are beautiful, to me you have grace, to me you are everything in the world.”
From the direction of the kitchen, her Ma chimed in, singing, “I've tried to explain, bei mir bist du schoen.”
And in a sudden elation I hummed under my breath, “So kiss me, and say that you will understand.”
With the last notes still hovering in midair, she swung her knees around the piano bench and lifted her face to me. I raised her to her feet and gathered her to my heart. Then, as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, I felt the heat awakening from within, rising recklessly in both of us.
Drawing me to her, Natasha leaned backwards over the piano. To the last vibrations dying in its belly I bent over her, over the reflection of the skyline of New York, which rippled in reverse across the polished, black surface around us, and I kissed her.
From USA Today Bestselling Author, Uvi Poznansky, comes a passionate wartime love story:
Lenny goes as far back as the moment he met Natasha during WWII, when he was a wounded warrior and she—a star, brilliant yet illusive. Natasha was a riddle to him then, and to this day, with all the changes she has gone through, she still is.
