For the rest of dinner, Anna spoke about Emmi, Dr. Stalling, Rolf Fleck, the trainers, and the shepherds at the guide dog school. And while she was telling Max about Paul Feyen, the first graduate of the school, her eyes gravitated to Nia, who was under the table with her chin on top of Max’s boot.She likes him.
“Anna’s a talented trainer,” Norbie bragged.
She lowered her spoon. “I’m a nurse turned canine caregiver.”But someday I’ll find a way to be a trainer.
“You’re far more than that,” Norbie said. “You’ve taught Nia to follow commands, and she can guide you through town with your eyes closed.” He patted Max on the shoulder. “My daughter underestimates herself, Max. She’s a remarkable nurse and trainer, and someday Nia will make a faithful companion for a veteran.”
Nia raised her head from Max’s shoe.
“Thank you for dinner,” Max said. “I’d like to wash the dishes.”
“I usually wash and Anna dries,” Norbie said.
“Please, I insist.” Max stood and placed his napkin on the table.
“Very well.” Norbie stood and pushed his chair to the table. “If you should need me, I’ll be in the workshop trying to fix a grandfather clock that refuses to strike on time.” He placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “The hourly chimes might keep you awake. But after a few nights, I’m quite certain you’ll grow fond of them.”
“I’m sure I will,” Max said.
Anna cleared the table. She filled the sink and provided Max with a dishcloth. Working in tandem, Max washed and Anna dried.
“Norbie is quite supportive of you,” Max said, handing her a bowl.
“Ja,” Anna said.
“You’re lucky to have him.”
Anna smiled. She wiped the bowl and placed it inside a cupboard.
He washed spoons and rinsed them in water.
Anna’s mind raced. There was much that she wanted to know about Max.What happened to your parents? How were you injured at the front?Instead, she settled on a question that she believed would be less intrusive. “What were you doing before the war?”
Max removed his hands from the water. “I was a pianist.”
“Oh,” Anna said.
“I graduated from the Royal Conservatory of Music of Leipzig. I was starting a career as a classical pianist with plans to become a composer when the war erupted.”
“But you don’t play anymore,” Anna said, recalling his comments while tapping the keys of hermutter’s piano.
“True.” He handed her a bowl.
“Why?” she asked. “Were your hands injured?”
“Ears.”
Anna’s eyes widened.
“A shell explosion damaged my eardrums.”
Her skin turned cold.
“I’m no longer able to hear high-pitched sounds,” he said, his voice doleful. “It’s impossible for me to detect the upper octaves of a keyboard.”
Oh, God.“I am so sorry.”
He nodded and scrubbed a pot.
