Free Child of the Light by Janet Berliner, George Guthridge

Walther Rathenau, our esteemed Foreign Minister, of his esteemed mother, Mathilde, and his lovely and talented niece, Miriam." Jacob bowed slightly to each in turn. "In our house we like to listen to our two children perform together." He watched Sol take the cello bow from its case and snap the lid shut. "Recha sings and dances, and Solomon accompanies her. Our little Recha has become the darling, if I may say so, of the Berlin Singakademia."
    Jacob waited for the brief round of applause to end. "Both of our children were to perform tonight in small repayment to you, Frau Rathenau," he bowed in Oma's direction, "for the wonderful companionship and dinner we have so enjoyed. Unfortunately, Recha has a cold. Therefore, Solomon will do a solo."
    He looked at Sol, who bowed slightly and managed a weak smile.
    "Solomon has not had quite the musical training Recha has enjoyed, but we should all remember that, in the world of music, unlike in business," Jacob nodded toward Friedrich Weisser, "or even in politics," a nod toward Rathenau, "the very act of performing is often at least as important as the product." Gesturing toward Sol, Jacob stepped aside. "So now, it is with great pride that I give you my son...."
    Walking as if his knees had turned to liquid, Solomon clutched the neck of the cello and moved into the spotlight. He bowed to the audience.
    Feeling a mixture of empathy and amusement, Miriam waited for the first note. When it came, she was relieved to find herself not entirely unimpressed. His playing was tenuous, but the emotion was there, the caring which, for her, shifted technique to secondary importance. She closed her eyes and let the sweet strains of Haydn flow around her. When it was over, she opened her eyes and applauded loudly. She would introduce herself to Solomon and tell him that he was not nearly as poor a performer as he seemed to think.
    She rose and walked toward him, but was not quick enough. Apparently terrified that he might be required to give an encore, he bowed and fled the room. Disappointed, Miriam headed back to her table.
    "I really enjoyed that," she said to Erich, who had once again jumped up to pull out her chair. "Please ask him to come back."
    "He won't."
    Erich sat down. He had a strange expression on his face, like a swimmer on the verge of diving into icy water.
    "He'd come back if...if...you asked him," the boy said.   "We could go for a walk...maybe...until he calms down...and then look for him together--"
    "I'm starving. I have to eat something first or I'll faint right into your arms in the street," Miriam said, teasing. She wondered if Erich always stammered like that when he felt embarrassed. Or perhaps it was only when he did not feel in control of a situation, she thought. She had met men like that--grown men who had wanted her and were embarrassed by feeling that way about a fifteen-year-old.
    "L-later? All right."
    Seeing his crestfallen expression, Miriam relented. She took a slice of dark pumpernickel from a silver basket and bit into it hungrily. "Don't they feed the entertainers in Germany, Uncle Walther?" She motioned at the bare tablecloth in front of her.
    "My profound apologies, Fraülein Rathenau," Erich's mother said. "I will rectify the situation immediately. You were--"
    "Don't take me seriously, Frau...Weisser."   At the last moment, she remembered the woman's name. "This will do just fine, thank you--as long as you save me some of those nonpareils they're serving with dessert. I crave them."
    She took a second slice of bread and stood up.
    "Let's take that walk, Erich."
    Her uncle looked at Erich. "How old are you, son?"
    "Fif--"   Erich looked at his parents. "Thirteen, sir." He blushed.
    "Just once around the block." The Foreign Minister barely suppressed a smile.
    Miriam smiled openly at him. "Just once around the block.   Promise!"
    Erich led the way up the metal stairs, which gave Miriam a chance to see his outfit from the rear and to hope that he had