Read Online What Is Left the Daughter by Howard Norman - Free Book Online
Authors: Howard Norman
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house. My parents are good people, you see. And they had, with me, I think you say, a handful. They had a handful. At night, I was walking long distances in my sleep. Usually I was found out on the road. Once I was about to swim in a pond. A number of times I was found in a neighbor's garden."
"Ever ride your bicycle asleep?" my uncle asked. "I always wondered, could a person do that?"
"No, I never rode a bicycle, Mr. Hillyer," Hans said. "At least nobody reported that I had. Most often my mother or father would discover me simply sitting at our kitchen table, sometimes eating food I'd taken from the icebox while asleep. Eventually my father had to purchase inside locks, and he locked the doors and windows. Still, I walked all over the house. I might visit every room. By morning I'd be exhausted. I could hardly stay awake in school. A hypnotist in Munich was recommended. I went to him nine times, as I mentioned to Tilda. Yet hypnotism didn't work. I walked in my sleep for several years. In Denmark it stopped. I never walked in my sleep in Denmark."
"Denmark?" my uncle said.
"We had to leave Germany. My uncleâmy mother's brotherâpreviously was living in Denmark. He has funds. In fact, he is sponsoring me at Dalhousie University."
"Germany to Denmark to Canada," my aunt said. "My goodness. I've never been further than Newfoundland."
"We escaped to Denmark in 1935. Adolf Hitler is not the travel agent you'd wish on your worst enemyâthis was my father's joke," Hans said. "My father always tries to bring a little light to the darkness. My mother is quite different. She always thinks the darkness is about to get even darker. That is their different natures."
"Tilda mentioned you have a heart malady," my aunt said. "Forgive my prying."
"Yes, I was born with it," Hans said. "I'm used to it by now. It's simply part of life for me."
"Well, don't black out before you have another of those cookies," I said.
"I'll do my best to take that advice," Hans said, and picked up a cookie from the plate.
"Tilda," my aunt said, "why not get out the Criss Cross set and you three sit down and play it? Donald and I need to leave you young people to yourselves."
"Criss Cross?" Hans said.
"We're the only ones in Middle Economy owns a set," my uncle said.
"True for now," my aunt said, "but Reverend Witt's got one on order. He's going to try to incorporate it into his children's Bible class somehow."
"See, Hans," my uncle said, "back in 1931 a man named Alfred M. Butts invented this board game. He was an architect and he planned it out in detail and then pasted a model of it onto folding checkerboards. It's something like a cross word puzzleânot exactly, though. You connect words on the vertical and on the horizontal, and these words all have to reside in your head already. Because during play you're not allowed to consult a dictionary. We don't keep one in the house, anyway."
"I'll go over the rules with Hans, okay, Pop?" Tilda said.
"Anyway, Constance was visiting her childhood friend in St. John's, Newfoundland," my uncle said. "In fact, she's got another visit coming up. Isn't that right, Constance?"
"Happily," my aunt said.
"Her friend's Zoe Fielding," my uncle said. "Zoe received a Criss Cross set for Christmas, from an American. Zoe taught the game to Constance last visit, and Constance put one on order the minute she got home. And that's how Criss Cross arrived to our humble little part of Nova Scotia."
"Hans, believe me," Tilda said, "you'll take to this game like a fish to water."
"My goodness, that's true, isn't it," my aunt said. "Criss Cross is all but custom made for a philologist."
"Myself, I'm no good at it," I said.
"Maybe Hans'll make us both better," Tilda said.
"Remember, Hans, you can't use German words," my uncle said. "That's breaking the law." My uncle was pacing the room now. I hadn't seen him do that except when he heard terrible war bulletins on the radio.
"I see," Hans said.
"For
"Ever ride your bicycle asleep?" my uncle asked. "I always wondered, could a person do that?"
"No, I never rode a bicycle, Mr. Hillyer," Hans said. "At least nobody reported that I had. Most often my mother or father would discover me simply sitting at our kitchen table, sometimes eating food I'd taken from the icebox while asleep. Eventually my father had to purchase inside locks, and he locked the doors and windows. Still, I walked all over the house. I might visit every room. By morning I'd be exhausted. I could hardly stay awake in school. A hypnotist in Munich was recommended. I went to him nine times, as I mentioned to Tilda. Yet hypnotism didn't work. I walked in my sleep for several years. In Denmark it stopped. I never walked in my sleep in Denmark."
"Denmark?" my uncle said.
"We had to leave Germany. My uncleâmy mother's brotherâpreviously was living in Denmark. He has funds. In fact, he is sponsoring me at Dalhousie University."
"Germany to Denmark to Canada," my aunt said. "My goodness. I've never been further than Newfoundland."
"We escaped to Denmark in 1935. Adolf Hitler is not the travel agent you'd wish on your worst enemyâthis was my father's joke," Hans said. "My father always tries to bring a little light to the darkness. My mother is quite different. She always thinks the darkness is about to get even darker. That is their different natures."
"Tilda mentioned you have a heart malady," my aunt said. "Forgive my prying."
"Yes, I was born with it," Hans said. "I'm used to it by now. It's simply part of life for me."
"Well, don't black out before you have another of those cookies," I said.
"I'll do my best to take that advice," Hans said, and picked up a cookie from the plate.
"Tilda," my aunt said, "why not get out the Criss Cross set and you three sit down and play it? Donald and I need to leave you young people to yourselves."
"Criss Cross?" Hans said.
"We're the only ones in Middle Economy owns a set," my uncle said.
"True for now," my aunt said, "but Reverend Witt's got one on order. He's going to try to incorporate it into his children's Bible class somehow."
"See, Hans," my uncle said, "back in 1931 a man named Alfred M. Butts invented this board game. He was an architect and he planned it out in detail and then pasted a model of it onto folding checkerboards. It's something like a cross word puzzleânot exactly, though. You connect words on the vertical and on the horizontal, and these words all have to reside in your head already. Because during play you're not allowed to consult a dictionary. We don't keep one in the house, anyway."
"I'll go over the rules with Hans, okay, Pop?" Tilda said.
"Anyway, Constance was visiting her childhood friend in St. John's, Newfoundland," my uncle said. "In fact, she's got another visit coming up. Isn't that right, Constance?"
"Happily," my aunt said.
"Her friend's Zoe Fielding," my uncle said. "Zoe received a Criss Cross set for Christmas, from an American. Zoe taught the game to Constance last visit, and Constance put one on order the minute she got home. And that's how Criss Cross arrived to our humble little part of Nova Scotia."
"Hans, believe me," Tilda said, "you'll take to this game like a fish to water."
"My goodness, that's true, isn't it," my aunt said. "Criss Cross is all but custom made for a philologist."
"Myself, I'm no good at it," I said.
"Maybe Hans'll make us both better," Tilda said.
"Remember, Hans, you can't use German words," my uncle said. "That's breaking the law." My uncle was pacing the room now. I hadn't seen him do that except when he heard terrible war bulletins on the radio.
"I see," Hans said.
"For
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