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afternoon.
                When she realized she
was pregnant, she knew at once it was probably not Michael’s.  He, however, was
not that astute.  They had had sex only twice in the last few months, and
Michael just assumed it was then that she had conceived.  She was about five
months pregnant when she told Misha.  He never asked if it could be his, but he
stopped coming.  She didn’t see him again until Samuel was fourteen months old.
                One afternoon she
answered the knocking on the door and opened it to find Misha standing there
with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hand.
                “For you,” he said
smiling. “I have missed you so.”
                “Misha! What a
surprise.  I was just putting the baby in for his nap,” she responded, her mind
was racing.
                “I would love to see
the baby, Rebekah. May I come in?”
                She knew that the
minute he saw Samuel he would know he was his child, but she could not refuse
to let him in.  Regardless of their feelings for one another, he was a soldier
in the czar’s army.  He could do whatever he wanted.
                “Of course, Misha. Come
in.”
                She motioned for Misha
to sit down in the tiny living room and went to get Samuel.  He could hear the
music box playing Brahms in the baby’s room.  Misha rose and took Samuel from
her arms as she walked into the room. “My, what a nice big boy you are,” he
said, holding him out in front of him as he sat back down on the tattered
couch. “Your mama must be feeding you well!”  Then he fell silent, staring
intensely at Samuel.
                “Yes, he’s a wonderful
eater, Misha, and a very good baby,” Rebekah said to break the silence. “He is
walking now and doesn’t want you to hold his hand.  He is fourteen months old.
His name is Samuel, after my Papa.”
                “He has my eyes,” Misha
said softly.  “And my blond hair.  But he has your mouth, Rebekah, and your
high cheekbones.”
                Rebekah sat frozen. 
There was nothing to say.  If anyone were to walk in now and see the two of
them together, they would know they were father and son.
                “Does Michael know?”
    “It doesn’t
matter, Misha.  We mustn’t discuss it.  You can’t come here anymore.  Why did
you come back?”
    “Because I knew
when you told me about the baby that it could be mine.  All you said about
Michael and you, how you hated sex with him. I just had this feeling.  I had to
know if I had a son or daughter.”
    “It doesn’t
matter.  His life has to be here with me, his mother.  You mustn’t come back
anymore, Misha.  You have to forget about him.”
    She saw the pain
in his eyes.
    “Forget about
him?” he said raising his voice. “How do I forget about my only son?  How do I
not wonder what his life is like? I want him, Rebekah.  Catherine and I can
give him a good home, an education.  He can be whatever he wants to be with the
influence of my father-in-law.  We’ll have him baptized in the church.  What
can you give him—a cobbler shop? He’ll have the opportunity for a much better
life as a Christian.  You know that.”
    “But he’s a Jew,
Misha.  Because I had him, that makes him a Jew.  Do you think your
father-in-law wants a Jew for a grandson?  What will you tell Catherine—I found
this child that looks like me on the side of the road in Yelizavetgrad?  And
how will you explain that he has been circumcised?”
    “No. I’ll tell her
it was a Russian girl in the country.  That like many soldiers away from home
for a long time, I had been tempted by her beauty. I’ll tell her that she
wanted me to take him so he could grow up in a good family and have an
education.  I’ll deal with the circumcision. His father is Christian, and that
will be enough.  You’re making this more