“I need to go,” she said.
“Please.”
“All right,” she said, slipping away from him. She picked up the water basin and left.
He sat on the bed and dabbed his marred hands with the towel.Everything is going to work out.A moment later, a piano folk song reverberated through the house and, after a few bars, Anna and Norbie began to sing. Rejuvenated by Anna’s promise to meet him at the boardinghouse, he stood, brushed the wrinkles from his uniform, and went downstairs to join them.
Bruno, despite an invitation by Norbie to join them at the piano to sing, chose to sit on the sofa. It surprised him that Norbie, who’d lost a great deal of weight from his last visit, had the stamina to sing. But it soon became evident, to Bruno, that Norbie was attempting to lift his daughter’s spirits.The more horribly he sings, the more she smiles—and he knows it.He could not imagine either of his parents behaving in such a selfless, kindhearted manner for him, even when he was a child.
After a few songs, Norbie patted Max on the back. “Splendid job, my boy. Your music makes me want to sing for hours. However, it’s my turn to cook dinner.”
“It’s always a pleasure.” Max stood from his bench. “I’ll help you in the kitchen.”
“Rest,” Norbie said. “You’ve trained all day, and I’m starting to feel quite lazy with you preparing much of our food.” He turned to Bruno. “Want to help me prepare dinner?”
“I’m not much of a cook,” Bruno said, regretting that his upbringing did not include learning to make meals.
“You’ll only need to dice turnips and leeks,” Norbie said.
“Okay,” Bruno said.
“But your hands are scraped,” Anna said.
“Oh, I nearly forgot.” Bruno glanced at the cuts and dried blood on his knuckles, and then looked at Norbie. “Would it be okay to take a pass tonight?”
“Of course.” Norbie peeked at Bruno’s hands. “Ouch. Next time, use my gardening gloves; they’re on a shelf near the back door.”
“I will,” Bruno said.
“I’ll help you,” Anna said. She followed Norbie into the kitchen, leaving Bruno with Max and Nia.
Max, sitting on the piano bench, lowered his hand and patted Nia.
“How long have you been playing the piano?” Bruno asked.
Max turned toward him. “Since I was a child.”
“You play well,” Bruno said.
“Danke,” Max said. “Myvatertaught me to play. He used to work at a piano manufacturer.”
“What does he do now?”
Max stroked Nia’s ears. “He’s dead. My parents died at the onset of the war.”
“My condolences.”
Max nodded. “Are your parents in Frankfurt?”
“Ja,” Bruno said.
“They must be anxious to meet Anna.”
Bruno shifted in his seat. “They are.”
“Tell me about them,” Max said.
“There’s not much to tell,” Bruno said.We barely write each other.“Myvater’s life is committed to his business, and mymuttertravels a lot, or at least she did before the war. They’re not, how shall I say, as affectionate as Norbie.”
