The By-Blow
Proboards prompts are the gift that keep on giving. A while back, we had a prompt where one character reveals a secret to another. I posted a fluffy little honeymoon piece in reply, and also a list of outrageous "I'm never going to write about this one" ideas. But I couldn't stop thinking about one of the "never" ideas. It became the topic of PM discussion with a friend…and the next thing I knew, out popped this story. If you don't like AU stories with a flawed Georg, this story might not be for you. For the rest of you, enjoy.
Chapter One
Most days, time flowed like a lazy river, the seconds slipping by from morning until night, each barely indistinguishable from the ones that came just before and after. But every so often, there was a moment when the world suddenly, shockingly, turned upside down, and you seemed to hang, suspended in time, waiting to see what turn your life might take next.
Your life's journey could change course in less than a minute. That's what Maria had learned the day after her eighth birthday, when the priest came to school to tell her that, in the course of just a few hours, her mother had been killed in an accident, leaving her an orphan. Then there was her first glimpse of Nonnberg Abbey five years ago, when she'd peered over the wall and felt something shift within her as she watched the sun set on the courtyard as the sisters sang their way to Vespers. And of course, there was that unbearable moment last August, when she'd learned that the man she loved was marrying someone else, only to set the world right hours later when he asked her to become his wife. Maria didn't think she could survive another day like that.
And she wouldn't have to. As summer turned to fall, and fall to winter, the days slid by, each a bright bead of love and happiness on an unbroken string. There had been the wedding, six magical weeks in Paris, and now the quiet joy of settling into married life in the villa, punctuated by a warm family Christmas she could never even have dreamed of for herself a year before.
And then, one raw March morning, everything changed again, in just a matter of moments. To someone else, it might have sounded ordinary enough, the way he called out to her as she crossed the foyer: "Maria, can you come in here for a minute?" But she knew from the strain in his voice that something had changed, that their lives would never be the same again.
He was sitting behind his desk when she entered the study, staring at some papers that lay in front of him. A battered leather diary lay open nearby.
"What is it, Georg?" she asked. "It's the Nazis, isn't it?"
He shook his head. "No, not yet, anyway. Close the door, would you?" He looked up at her briefly, and his eyes were flat and dark. He looked like a stranger, she thought.
"Well, then, what has happened?" she asked uneasily.
He looked back down at the desk. After a long silence, he said, "This isn't going to be easy for me to tell you, Maria. I wish I could avoid it. Please try to remember that I do love you." He'd told her so many times before, of course, but this time, his manner was oddly distant.
"Y-yes, of course, Georg. What is it? You're frightening me! Are you ill?"
He shook his head. "No. I'm fine. What I have to tell you about is something that happened in Paris."
"Paris?" she puzzled. There were nothing but blissful memories there for Maria.
He rose, and began to pace the room, something she knew he did when he was uncomfortable and anxious. All she could do was wait it out, sit and watch him, and twist her hands nervously in her lap.
"Yes." he said. "You remember I told you that I'd had business there in the last few years."
"Yes, of course."
"In fact, the first time I left the children after Agathe died, it was to conduct some business in Paris. The French Navy. It had been only a few months, and looking back, it was probably too soon. I was in terrible shape, I've told you that before. I was…"
"Drinking, yes, I know," she said. "And you mustn't blame yourself, Georg, you showed great character turning things around the way you did."
He went on as if he hadn't heard her. "One evening, I went to the opera with some associates. We were invited backstage afterward to meet the cast. The star – she had a beautiful voice, I remember. Enormous dark eyes and a cloud of curly black hair. There was champagne in her dressing room, and then a group of us went to dinner with her, and a smaller group went on to a café, and those who were left after that went on to a bar or two, and by the end of the evening, it was just the two of us."
He fell silent. Maria's insides twisted into a knot. She knew what was coming next, and while she couldn't say she was surprised, she wondered why he had chosen to torture her with this story now.
He had stopped his pacing, and stood near the window to look out at the lake, where a stiff breeze ruffled the water, leaving the surface looking dangerous and forbidding. The mountains on the other side were shrouded in mist. At last, he picked up his story, the words as matter-of-fact as though he were reciting the train schedule.
"She spent the night with me. I don't remember any of the details, but when I woke the next morning, she was gone. She'd left a note – something about respecting my wishes, which I did not quite understand at the time, and thank you for a lovely evening, and so on. I did the right thing, of course, sent flowers, and tried to call her, but she avoided me. And honestly, I was relieved. I felt emptier than ever. It was nothing but a reminder that I would never find another woman like the one I'd lost."
For only a moment, a small, tender smile ghosted across his face, a welcome reminder that he loved Maria twice as much because he'd never dreamed of loving anyone again. "Anyway. It was shortly after that when I met Elsa. She made me stop drinking, and gradually drew me out of the worst of it."
"Georg." Her own voice sounded odd to her, high-pitched and childish. "Is it really necessary for you to tell me all about this now? I mean, what is the point…"
"The point. Yes." He couldn't even look her in the face. Instead, he continued to stare out at the lake.
"I am sorry to have to tell you this, Maria. There was a child."
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More soon, I promise. If you didn't know what the title of this story meant before you started reading, you do now (or you can look it up!). I don't own anything about TSOM, I just love it.