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The curtain recedes to reveal a piano. A man stands beside it, mic in hand, and clears his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins. “I am pleased and privileged to welcome you to this exclusive showcase event. Some of the most famous pianists in the world have played at this venue, and it is an honor to have so distinguished an audience as we host a new generation of talented musicians.”
“Distinguished audience?” Lilyana whispers.
“It’s a concert for industry professionals,” I reply. “Maestros, agents, critics, the classical music scene alumni.”
“So why were we invited?”
I take her hand, holding it in my lap. “Shh.”
One by one, bright young things take their place at the piano, playing well-known pieces from operas and musicals. Lilyana knows every song, and I marvel at her rapt attention. She feels the pianist’s struggles and hears every bum note, but she applauds louder and more enthusiastically than anyone.
She’s so kind. It’s underappreciated in those who display it as a virtue, but her basic human decency brings so much light into the world. I never knew how dark my life was until she shone her beautiful soul over it.
The compère takes the stage once more. “Now we come to the headline star of the evening,” he says. “You are here because you can appreciate a rare and special gift when you see it, and our final performer is the kind of talent that is usually seen only once in a generation.”
Lilyana squeezes my hand. “It can’t be Martha Argerich?”
“No, but she’s in the audience.”
Lilyana stares at me. “How do you know? What’s going on?”
A spotlight illuminates us, and the compère holds out his hand. “For her first-ever concert, Carnegie Hall is pleased to bring you—Lilyana Kisleva!”
The auditorium erupts into applause, and Lilyana snatches her hand, bringing it to her mouth. For a moment, I have no idea what she’ll do. Vomit, run, scream, punch me in the balls; anything seems possible.
“You’ve got this,” I murmur.
“I know.”
She draws a deep breath and walks to the stairs, accepting the compère’s help to climb onto the stage.
The people here tonight can make things happen for her. They are the dream makers, and my wife does not need to do anything special to dazzle them. She need only be her mesmerizing self.
Morgana reaches into her purse, retrieving her camera. “The PR guys gave me permission,” she whispers. “I gotta capture this.”
Lilyana sits on the piano stool and flexes her fingers. The compère arranges the microphone at the right height and departs the stage, leaving her alone except for the instrument she loves, a pool of golden light, and the silent attention of over three thousand people.
It took so much effort, money, and good old-fashioned hustle to make this concert happen, but we have as many friends in this city as enemies. Vlad set the ball rolling, I played my recording of Lilyana to a few discerning ears, and the rest was history.
None of that matters now. If she screams, panics, anything, I’ll spirit her from this place and spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
I catch her eye, and she smiles, resting her hands on the keys. I close my eyes, waiting for whatever comes
Lilyana begins to play, and I sigh with rapture. She knows the perfect song just as well as I do, and the audience sighs as her melodic voice compliments the aria.
O Mio Babbino Caro. A song sung by a girl who asks for her father’s blessing to marry the man she adores. Lilyana’s own father did his best to ruin love for her, but he failed; her mother’s love transcended death and time, shielding her. Her family protected her heart, and so did I. Her happiness, dreams, and safety are all my business.
The song ends with a tinkling of keys, and the room explodes into a frenzy of appreciation. Everyone is on their feet, and as we join in, Sasha grabs a bouquet from under his seat, handing it to me.
“You give these to her,” he says, slapping my shoulder. “You deserve it.”
I jump onto the stage and hand my wife the bunch of lilies. She hurls her arms around my neck and kisses me, to a whoop of approval from the crowd.
“You’re amazing,” Lilyana sobs. “No one ever believed in me like you did. You always knew I had it in me, and you wouldn’t let me get in my own way anymore.”
“Damn right.” I hold her close. “You’re mine, but I’ll never try and dull your shine. I’ll just stand at your side, forever in awe at my good fortune.”
