An Uncommon Family Read Free

be able to enjoy their company.” 
    “Of course, Mrs. Schatz, don’t misunderstand me.” Jonas tried to calm his neighbor. “I have only met charming women at your tea gatherings. And I’m very grateful for your concern. It’s not the women who are the problem. It’s me.” He gently tapped Mrs. Schatz’s arm. “You know, I’m just not ready yet. I know, it’s stupid, but I can’t help it.”
    Mrs. Schatz seemed somewhat appeased. “Well, okay, I won’t push you. Just remember”—she shook a finger at him—“you’re not getting any younger either.” She looked him up and down and he instinctively pulled in his slight potbelly. “Well, I’ve got to go, have some baking to do.”
    She shuffled across the hallway toward the door. Mentioning the baking was another attempt to lure Jonas. She was an excellent baker and well-known among her neighbors and friends for her cakes and pies. Her heavy hips and the bulges around her waist were a testimony to her love of sweets.
    At the door to her apartment, she slightly raised her hand. “If you change your mind, you know where we are.”
    “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Schatz,” Jonas said. “I have quite a lot of work to do, but perhaps next time.”
    He closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. In the kitchen, he unpacked the groceries. He put the lettuce, zucchini squash, tomatoes, basil, and a piece of mountain cheese into the refrigerator. Picking up a ripe apricot, he inhaled its sweet smell and bit into it, then went into the living room.
    As usual, when he came back from an errand or a trip, he stood a while in front the photo of his wife, Eva. A beautiful face with wavy, shoulder-length blond hair, shiny blue eyes, and the touch of a cute snub-nose smiled at him. He smiled back and sighed. “Hi there,” he whispered.
    His neighbor wasn’t the only person who tried to nudge him toward female companionship. His son in Denmark and his daughter, who spent a year in the United States, brought the topic up occasionally. “Dad, remember what Mom said before she died? You shouldn’t pine for her; you should live and have another woman in your life.”
    He gently touched the frame of the photo. There is no other woman. Only you.
    At the bar, he poured himself a shot of whisky, went into the kitchen and dropped a few ice cubes from the freezer into the glass. He shook the glass and watched the golden liquid swoosh around. Coming back into the living room, he opened a couple of windows and the floor-length glass door, which led to a small patio on the rooftop.
    Jonas’s penthouse apartment was light and airy and tastefully furnished. His Danish background was visible in the uncluttered elegance and the light colors of the sofa, drapes, and the simple wood furniture. A few of Jonas’s paintings were hanging on the wall.
    To the south, he had a view of a small section of the river and part of the lake. Across the river stood the Fraumünster Cathedral with its five stained-glass windows designed by Marc Chagall. If the weather was good, Jonas could see the mountains in the distance.
    It was still warm on this hot summer day. The sun was setting behind the buildings, surrounding them with halos of gold. The strip of the lake Jonas could see from his apartment sparkled in the last light of the evening. Jonas was thinking of the little girl and her aunt. He sighed, remembering the look on the child’s face when he lifted her up. How well he could relate to that feeling of sadness and despair.
    Jonas loved children and now that his own kids were grown and his grandchildren lived in Denmark, he made do with the children he taught privately. He enjoyed teaching. It made him feel needed and the company of his students helped him push away the loneliness for a few hours.
    The thought of working with Karla, however, filled him with excitement for another reason. In the two pictures he had seen of hers, he detected an unusual talent. Her drawings were still rough and