Chapter 77

“I’m the one who named him. After Wagner, the composer.” Al was fiddling with the bottle opener. “Wagner, you know—he’s still a controversial figure. Some folks say he was anti-Semite. Others say that he had many Jewish friends and they can prove that he wasn’t. But you know, when you look at the body of his work, you’ll find a lot of…shadows there. Ideas of grandeur, maybe. Some kind of obsession with the heroic virtues of nobility and chivalry. But, dig a little and you’ll hear it—the darkness.” He looked up at me. “I think, in some ways, I might have cursed Wilhelm with his name.”

“No, Al, no.” I instantly covered his big hand with mine. “There’s a lot of truth in what you just said, and there’s a lot of that in Lei. Not the racism, but the darkness.”

Al was quiet, staring at me.

“It’s not your fault,” I whispered, leaning in closer, finally understanding what hid behind Al’s sorrowful eyes sometimes. Guilt. A father’s guilt. “And Lei loves you.”