In the afternoons, Elfriede still plays the piano. She likes to think it keeps her fingers from getting stiff, but the truth is more sentimental than that. She follows the same chronology as always, all the way up through Chopin and no further, because really what comes after Chopin? Nothing anybody cares about. There was a young woman ten years ago who asked her if she knew any Gershwin. Elfriede said she’d never heard of him. The woman said she would find the music, she would order it from this shop in Paris she knew, but she never did. Just packed her suitcase and left one day. Oh, well. Never mind Gershwin, then.

Outside the window, the sun’s come out. They’ve had a warm spell over the past few days, and much of the snow has melted. Some of the infirmary patients were outside this afternoon, soaking up the sunshine, and one still remains, bundled in a woolen coat, reading a book. Elfriede smiles and turns back to her music. From the refectory comes the clink and clatter of tables being set. The children do this, it’s their job. Elfriede believes firmly in the importance of children having jobs, and so the children set the tables while the adults make dinner, and everybody’s mind is relieved of its troubles for a short time. Because she’s an early riser, Elfriede takes her turn at breakfast. Never ask your troops to do anything you wouldn’t do yourself, that’s what Wilfred used to say.

When she comes to the last note, she pauses for a moment, eyes closed, fingers resting on the keys. In that space of time, while the music still exists in her head but not in the air, she feels Wilfred’s spirit in an especially pungent way, as if she’s absorbed him inside her body, as if she’s become Wilfred. Then the notes fade, and so does Wilfred, but not entirely. He’s still there, only less immediate, which allows her to rise from the piano bench and take her cardigan sweater from the top of the piano, where she’s left it. She shrugs her arms into the sleeves, belts the waist together, and heads down the hallway to the garden door.