“No. We tried to teach Ian, but it didn’t take.”
She looked at them.
“May I?”
Ian looked surprised.
“You play the piano too?”
“A little.”
She gently lifted the lid, sat on the bench Ian pulled out for her, paused for a moment, and began to play.
Andrew went pale. He couldn’t breathe; sweat beaded on his forehead. It was only when the melody ended that Nina noticed his condition. She rushed to his side.
“Andrew, what’s wrong with you?”
Vera ran over too.
“Ian, open a window, quickly! Do you have any aspirin?”
Nina dashed to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of pills. Andrew pushed her hand away and, in a weak voice, asked Vera:
“Vera… was your mother’s name Carina?”
Nina’s face lost all color. Vera looked at Andrew, then at Ian, bewildered.
“Yes.”
“And is your great-grandmother… Eleanor Vance?”
“Yes. She’s very old now, but still a fighter. How do you know my family?”
Nina turned and walked to the window. She was silent for a moment, then asked without turning around:
“Vera, when is your birthday? What year were you born?”
Andrew shot a look at his wife and buried his face in his hands. He did the quick math in his head and dropped his hands.
“Nina, what are we going to do?”
“So Vera is your daughter?”
Ian jumped to his feet, horrified. He looked from Vera to his father. Vera had gone white as a sheet.
“No, it can’t be…”
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