Norbie stretched his arms, and then turned off the gramophone. “That was fun. But I’m getting tired.”
Anna stood and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll take Nia outside before I go to bed.”
“Okay,” Norbie said. “Sleep well, Max.”
“You too,” Max said, standing from the sofa.
Norbie patted Nia, and then climbed the stairs. His footsteps faded and a door clacked shut.
“You have a wonderfulvater,” Max said.
“Danke.”
“I think he enjoyed singing that children’s song the most.”
“Ja. Mymuttersang ‘Hänschen klein’ to me when I was a small child. He plays that phonograph when he misses her.”
Max clasped his hands. “Do you mind if I ask how she died?”
“Cancer.” She sat on the sofa and patted the space next to her.
He sat.
“Mutter died when I was five. She’d been sick for over a year.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She was far too young.” She glanced to the piano. “Her illness didn’t stop her from doing what she loved. Some of my fondest memories include sitting on her lap as she sang and played the piano. She had a beautiful voice.”
“So do you.”
She smiled. “Maybe, if you’re comparing me to Vater’s singing.”
He chuckled.
Nia stood and placed her chin on the sofa between them.
Anna rubbed her snout. “He sings off key, but he doesn’t care. And I enjoy listening to him.”
“With the proper tools, I could tune your piano for you. Of course, I’d need your help with tuning the upper octave keys.”
“Ja,” she said. “That would be lovely.”
Nia nudged Max with her nose, and he ran a hand over her ears.
“I’m really sorry about Wilhelmina’s letter.” Anna took a deep breath. “How are you?”
A dull ache grew in his abdomen. “I’ll be all right.”
“I’m glad that today was better for you.”
A flash of Waldemar’s voice and sour breath filled his head. He nodded.
“How are the trainers treating you?” she asked, as if she could read Max’s thoughts.
“Okay,” he said, not wanting to burden her with his problem.
“Do you have a favorite shepherd?”
