Russian Spring Page 75
You can walk on water, Sonya, but first you have to find something worth walking on water for.
He had always had a dream like that and she never had. She had envied him that, and loved him for it.
But now he had finally succeeded in giving it to her. She could accept his most precious gift at last. She could believe it. She could feel it.
She could see them sitting there with a foaming bottle of champagne, toasting each other in a sidewalk café in another City of Light on a planet circling a far-distant sun, and looking back on this moment with a warm nostalgic glow as their true betrothal of the spirit.
“Let it be right,” she whispered. “Let it be so.”
And she reached out a loving hand and tenderly pulled the plug.
