Her expression softened despite herself. “My grandmother used to sing it to me. And I sing it to her when the pain is bad.”

Arthur sat up slowly, the blanket sliding to his lap. “My wife sang that song to my daughter.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Maya said.

His eyes sharpened instantly. “Don’t ever say that.”

Maya held his gaze with unwavering strength. “Then I won’t.”

He seemed almost irritated that she obeyed so readily. “You saw the photograph.”