Yuri confessed that he had thought about something like that, but he felt that they wouldn't have wanted that.
I assured Yuri, that it would have been a tragedy if he had done that. I explained that this inscription would have been the final period of the last sentence in the story of their life, and they would have died with it. "But this tragedy didn't happen," I said to Yuri. "Their life is not over. The last chapter has not yet been written."
I said to Ushi, "If the love that we have shared, and still share, can uplift all love in the world to a higher level, even as we had uplifted our love to one another, than it may yet be possible to create a basis for ending the cycles of war in the world and to eradicate our countless nuclear weapons. For this reason," I said to Ushi, "Anton and Nicolai must never be allowed to die in our hearts, for with the love that we shared and still have, may rest the future of humanity."
Here, Yuri addressed Ushi. "Some of that love will be reflected through you too, very soon. It will be reflected throughout Russia, because of your tour, and later, perhaps in China, after your return."
"So you see," I said to Ushi, "it is still true what I said to you on our first day together in Leipzig, in the little cafe, that two or three people with a right idea can change the world. Now I must add that they don't even need to be physically present, as long as they are fully alive."
The next day, Ushi and I were off on our way to Novosibirsk, and from there, the next day, to Yatusk where we boarded the same plane again that I had traveled in with Antonovna. The plane was still manned by the same crew. Nothing had changed in that part of the world. The same taiga appeared beneath us that I had seen before, that I had cherished with Antonovna. It was as brilliantly white as I remembered it. I could still sense the excitement we had felt when we saw this land for the first time, flying as low as we did. Now, as the same excitement was up welling again, I felt free to share it with Ushi, who quickly became caught up in the flow of it.
The plane followed the same river, just as it had then. Our view of the landscape, as it passed beneath us, inspired a feeling in me that made everything appear like a familiar dream, only it wasn't a dream. I was determined not to let it be a dream, but to make it into something new, something that would move both of us further ahead. It appeared that Ushi had sensed my determination and was helping me to turn it into an event that was marked by a new dancing and the power of it.
After an occasional period of silence Ushi started a conversation that brought a whole New World into view, one that was tightly connected to our being on this airplane together.
"When you stood at the grave, did you think of Brahms' Symphony Number One?" she asked right out of the blue.
"Yes, but how did you know?" I grinned, and punched her gently. "You seem to know every secret of the heart there ever was."
"That was a secret?" she said, grinning back at me. "Anton was bubbling over with joy when she told me about the concert you had been to, together. She told me all about it while we were waiting at the airport in Caracas. She said it was so sweet of you to invite her to hear this symphony and to explain its music to her and how it correlated so perfectly with the unfolding of the love you had for each other. That must have been quite an evening," said Ushi and grinned.
"It was a beautiful concert," I agreed, "and I am glad I was able to share it with Anton, but it was really Heather who had bought the tickets, and it was someone else again who had arranged the entire concert for us."
"That must have been Olive," said Ushi, still grinning. "Nicolai told me about her great love for you. I can believe that Olive would do a wonderful thing like that."
I nodded. "But let me tell you about 'our' music, the music that reflects the unfolding of my love for you from the first moment that I saw you," I said to Ushi.
Ushi's grin became a smile that made the brilliant landscape below us seem dull in comparison.
"Did you ever have a chance to hear the great organ symphony of Camille Saint Saens?" I asked. "It begins easy going, happily, with a lighthearted orchestral music in the style of Mozart and of about the same wonderful quality. The flow of this part of the music reflects our first day together. Do you remember our time at the beach in Leipzig, and the time we had together in the cafe afterwards, and that beautiful evening when we had dinner at your home? These events had a Mozart type of feeling to it, don't you agree? There was a tremendous movement going on and everything blended together. One never knew what would pop up next, but it all blended into a single fabric with total consistency in the way we had supported each other's thoughts and feelings.
"Now in the second part of the Saint Seans Organ Symphony, the organ itself comes powerfully into play in one of the most beautiful melodic and majestic passages that may have ever been written for the organ. These powerful, majestic melodies reflect the way our night had turned out to be, a night of heavenly melodies interwoven with powerful feelings that opened my heart to a newfound sunshine. When Steve suggested that we should spend that night together, a whole new world unfolded, a world of superlatives that sparkled, that moved with a powerful joy which totally changed my life. The organ symphony expresses this daring, the exiting atmosphere, the intricate unfolding of our love. It expresses these more clearly, and more magically, than any other music that I know."
"Pete, that sounds wonderful," Ushi replied while I was still speaking. She even hugged me for it.
"Did you ever have a chance to hear the Saint Seans Organ Symphony?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"I know, it's a rarely performed work," I replied. "Perhaps people do not experience the unfolding of such a powerful love anymore, and therefore they cannot relate to the music. Relationships have become too superficial. You should really hear this symphony at the very next time you get a chance to do so.
"Perhaps Nina has a recording of it," she commented.
I nodded. "There is quite a large music library at the base," I said to her.
"Except, the music that you spoke of may not be appropriate anymore," Ushi replied.
"Why do you say this, Ushi? I can't think of anything that describes better the way our love has been."
"Whatever has been, is history, Pete," she replied. "Think about what our love is now, today, what it is like this very minute, and what it may yet be. What were you thinking about, for instance, at Nicolai's grave? Were you thinking of the past? Or were you thinking about what might have been? Don't look back Peter, not in this fashion. Forget missed opportunities. Life is now. Life is here. Your love for Anton is still alive and will ever be so, and so is ours and it will be forever unfolding."
"I told you at the grave that we were about to become married, Anton, I, and Nicolai; all three of us to each other; and that Anton and I had a private little marriage ceremony already, just for the two of us, in Novosibirsk and later in Siberia."
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