[For the 2016 Proboards Advent Calendar]
This is not a Christmassy story like the brilliant contributions so far (in fact, it is most decidedly several seasons behind), but hopefully this silly, lighthearted piece, with all its fluff (and kissing), will do the trick.
Wishing everyone a very happy holidays! xoxo
The Trouble With Our Trellis
Georg laughed, a light breath of mint and spice at her temple.
"Very funny, darling." His thoughts were admittedly still on how soft and lithe his fiancé's waist felt nestled in the crook of his arm, and whether he might be able to get away with pulling her just a little bit closer, and – … he assumed at first she had been joking.
Glancing at her, he saw she was in earnest. He stopped short. "You can't be serious."
Georg looked up, staring at the second story window in disbelief for a long moment. Slowly, he turned back to his fiancé, completely distracted now by this new piece of knowledge.
Maria looked steadily back at him, biting her lower lip to keep from breaking into a wide grin at the flummoxed expression on his face. Any doubt she'd had about whether to let him in on the children's little secret vanished at his bewildered and helpless look of outrage, which she found strangely endearing and attractive.
To be fair, there wasn't much about him she didn't find attractive these days. It was getting harder and harder to content herself with their daily afternoon walks about the garden. It had been one of the few Max-approved activities that gave them some semblance of alone time. Georg had reluctantly agreed to the arrangement, muttering all the while under his breath that they would be in plain sight of the entire household. Max himself popped onto the veranda with unnecessary frequency during these walks, an annoyingly over-diligent chaperone that kept their conversation in firmly sensible territory and Georg's hand firmly above her waist.
And Maria had had enough breathless kisses and stolen caresses in the few weeks since their engagement to know that while sensibly above the waist had its merits, it was not nearly enough for her.
Grudgingly, they meandered along the edge of the extensive gardens. A row of trellises lined the wall along the villa, and vines full of late summer roses were in full bloom. Maria, inhaling its scent, found herself revisiting the evening when Georg had whispered in her ear how much he loved the way she smelled, and how it had led to a few moments of uninterrupted bliss. The memories made Maria's breath catch in her throat. As on cue, Georg arm slipped just a bit lower along her back.
By the time they passed the spot under her room, Maria was desperate for distraction. She slowed her pace, telling him in deliberately animated tones the story of the children's escapades scaling the governess's window.
"No, they told me so," she insisted now at his skepticism. "I've even seen Liesl at it. It's how they used to play so many tricks on the governesses."
"All the way up there?" Georg shook his head, bemused and angry. "They could have broken their necks!"
Maria laid a comforting hand on his arm. "But they didn't – and thank goodness they won't need to use such antics ever again."
"Why didn't anyone tell me? This should have been stopped immediately." He paused at his own words. Reluctantly, he chucked. Maria smiled. The thought of a governess telling Captain Von Trapp that her charges had been scaling the villa with a variety of varmints in their possession was appalling.
"You know why they did it, darling," she said gently.
Georg shook his head again, helplessly. "But this is ridiculous," he protested, although the venom had quite disappeared. "And here I was thinking they were starting to grow into responsible young men and women."
"They're your children, Captain," Maria said in mock severity.
Georg looked at her, his face taking on an expression that made her breath quicken. "Soon to be yours, Baroness Von Trapp." His voice was low. He looked around quickly, and seeing no one, drew his bride-to-be close, kissing her deeply and thoroughly.
Maria wrapped her arms around his neck without hesitation. He started kissing a trail toward the pulsating spot at the nape of her neck, delighted by the low sound of desire that escaped her. She was pressing back against him, unconsciously showing him where she yearned most, when they heard the sound of leather shoes tapping across the marble veranda. Max's unmistakably cheerful whistle cut through the air. Reluctantly, they pulled apart.
Maria had barely smoothed over her mussed hair when Max came into view at the edge of the veranda. He saw them staring at him with very little pleasure – at least on Georg's part, and gave them a wide grin and a very pointed salute. He wandered away from the balustrade, but they had no doubt he was just around the corner.
"Damn him to hell," Georg swore under his breath.
"He's just doing his job…" Maria said, although the way she was still staring at his lips made the defense very unconvincing.
Reluctantly, he loosened his grip on her, and turned back up to the window. "How did they even get up there?"
Maria shook her head. "They wouldn't tell me. It's a bit of a mystery, but Liesl said it was easy."
He ran a hand over the trellis underneath, which extended several feet over his head. Above it, a cluster of fragile-looking vines clung to an expanse of stone.
Georg raised his eyebrows. Experimentally, he tugged at the trellis. "I suppose…" he said doubtfully as the entire contraption shook.
"Louisa could do it with a jar of spiders in her hand."
"Spiders?" Georg made a face. "What on earth for?"
Maria laughed. "They used to sneak all sorts of creatures into the governess's bed. One of their more popular pranks, I hear, though thankfully I was never a recipient."
"Into the bed?" He whistled under his breath. "By God, they're even worse than the men I used to sail with!" His thunderous expression boded ill for the mischievous Von Trapp children. Maria was about to gently redirect him when suddenly, his face changed. "Into the bed?" He repeated again, and this time, his voice was less irate and more playful. He looked at her.
She gaped back at him, swiftly catching his drift. "Georg," she protested.
Carefully, he rested a foot on the bottom rung, and pulled himself above the ground. The trellis shook, and held. He stepped down.
"Georg," Maria tried again, "You can't. It's too…"
Too what? She thought. Too juvenile? But she loved this youthful side of her fiancé, finally on display after being repressed for so long. Too dangerous? That seemed a silly thing to say to a decorated war hero. Too improper? That was probably what she should say, and yet…
He came toward her. "What do you think?" He asked nonchalantly, as if commenting on the weather. "Will it hold me?"
Maria raised an eyebrow. "The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree." Her voice was solemn, but the twinkle in her eye gave her away.
Georg placed his hands on her shoulders, the firm gesture causing her to look at him. "Think about it," he murmured, voice equally solemn, eyes equally mischievous. "We could do anything you want. Read books…" his fingers traced the curves of her arms, "tell stories…" his thumb tickled her elbows, "… anything you'd like." His arms encircled her waist, and she was against him.
His voice. His touch. Maria craved more. "I'm not sure that's the part I'm objecting to…" she whispered, conscious of his fingers making small patterns on her lower back.
Georg smiled, but before he could say anything, Max's too-bright voice rang across the lawn. "Time for tea, lovebirds!"
Maria swallowed. Georg looked murderous. He acknowledged and dismissed Max with one wave. Slowly, they started across the garden toward the veranda, Georg keeping an arm firmly around his fiancé.
As Max disappeared inside, Georg leaned in to her, maintaining an impeccably chaste distance between man and fiancé. He dropped a light kiss against her temple. "Look for me tonight, Maria." He gave her a wink.
Maria nodded, looking around warily. They moved toward the door, but she stopped him just before they stepped inside. She stood on tiptoe to murmur in his ear, "I see you every night."
The evening didn't follow as planned.
Although it might be said Maria herself didn't know after she had retired for the evening what that plan would be. She wondered if she should change her linens, forgetting that the maid had only changed them earlier in the day. Or perhaps she should freshen up? She paced the length of her room like a crazy person, before finally settling on knitting a sock to calm her nerves. She thought she was making good progress – only to find a few days later when she picked up the sock that she had knitted a whole three inches above where the heel should be.
Of course, in the bed was a euphemism. It couldn't be – they wouldn't actually…
The thought sent a shiver down her spine and she felt her thighs clench involuntarily. Oh, but a part of her wanted it to be.
Maria told herself he had been teasing. She knew Georg had a very strict sense of propriety. Of course he was only teasing.
But he was also determined and passionate, and Maria had realized since their engagement that something about her, specifically, could push him over the edge.
That thought made her breath catch in her throat.
The sudden sharp, irregular 'pings' against her bedroom window had Maria flying across the room.
And there, down in the gardens below, stood her fiancé. He had left behind his jacket and tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows. He held a handful of pebbles in one hand, and wore a mischievous grin. He saluted her when he saw her at the window.
And perhaps this was yet another side of him she was seeing – a captivating mix of confidence and roguish schoolboy.
She couldn't get the window open fast enough.
Georg said something up to her in a stage whisper. Maria recognized it as a quote from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.
She laughed, and called down that he was doing himself a disservice comparing himself to the amateurish Romeo.
He chuckled, delighted by her wit, and if it must be admitted – her subtle endorsement. "Let's hope I have equal his luck in climbing, anyway."
Maria watched as he gripped the trellis with both hand, hoisting himself up onto the lower rungs. She watched, fascinated, at how easily he moved, his forearms taunt with the effort of balancing against the precarious structure. She watched with unabashed eagerness. Maria had rarely seen him without his jacket, and she took in now how sculpted his body appeared. His muscles tensed under his shirt, and suddenly, she wanted to know how they felt beneath her hands.
Georg looked up to gage his progress, and Maria swallowed as their gaze met. Something in his blue eyes darkened as he looked at her, and his face lost some of its playfulness.
He was navigating the stone wall with ease, and he was close. He pushed himself off the top of the trellis with his foot, and suddenly, the structure gave way. She heard a single 'snap'. The trellis toppled, folding in on itself as it fell. Georg slipped.
Maria muffled a cry, watching in horror as he pushed away from the wall with his hands, propelling himself backward to avoid crashing onto the tangled trellis. It couldn't have been more than seven or eight feet, but he landed hard on his back. For a minute he was still, the wind knocked right out of him.
She didn't wait to see more. She rushed from her room and through the villa, not giving a second thought to who might see or hear her. She ran into the gardens, toward the still form on the ground.
Maria stopped at his side, wavering uncertainly, half wanting to throw herself down beside him, half terrified to move him. What if –
Georg opened his eyes. "I'm okay, darling – "
She compromised by kneeling next to him. "Are you alright?" Her voice was panicked. "Can you move?"
Even as she spoke, she saw that he was flexing each of his joints ever so slightly, quickly and expertly checking himself over. It must have been a necessary skill acquired from his time in war, she realized. Another wave of fear washed over her.
Georg exhaled at last. "Nothing's broken," he reassured her. "Only my dignity is a bit bruised." He sat up, and winced. "And my tailbone, it seems."
Quick as a flash, Maria had her arms around him.
He let her help him up to standing, and winced again. Maria's eyes flew to his face. "Ankle sprain, I think," he explained, catching his breath.
"Shall I call for help? Frau Schmidt? Franz, perhaps – "
"No! No darling, I'm fine." He slipped his arm around her shoulder. "I just need you –"
"How could you say that?" She cried, interrupting him. "You – you're hurt. You just fell – " Maria was shaking.
Georg paused, balancing on his good leg to turn her toward him. He gathered her into his chest. "Shhh, I'm okay, really. I've had much worse. This is just a scrape."
"I was so foolish," she mumbled into his shirt. "It's not worth the risk. Sister Berthe always said I needed to strengthen my resolve … she was right. And if God isn't punishing me… I shouldn't even have been thinking… just a few more weeks." Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Maria was nearly incoherent with after shock and relief.
"No Maria," he whispered. "I wanted you, too. God, I wanted you." He sighed heavily. "He wouldn't punish two people so deeply in love."
"I keep thinking – what if you'd died, or – or broken your neck… we could have lost you. I could have lost you."
A ghost of a smile crossed Georg's face as he heard his own words from earlier parroted back at him, but he sobered quickly. It wrung his heart to see his brave and daring bride-to-be distraught over his fall, and over the reason for it.
"I'm sorry, darling." He smoothed her hair as she pressed her face against him. "I shouldn't have turned this into a game. It was unfair. And thoughtless." His arms tightened around her. "I should be doing everything I can to convince my fiancé she won't lose me – and here I am doing the opposite. I'm sorry."
Maria met his gaze timidly as she calmed. Gently, he brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead, and cupped her face. "I am yours, Maria. And I will make sure you know that, everyday, for the rest of our days."
She slipped both arms around his neck, holding him close. "When you fell, I felt like… like I was falling, too." She searched his face wonderingly. "And now I know," her voice was halting, "it's always going to be like this."
He touched his forehead to hers. "Yes."
"We're going to fall… and rise… and cry… and laugh… and comfort… together."
"Yes, my love."
She raised her face up to his. They kissed, and the kiss was gentle and full of promise.
When Georg's ankle started to protest, he leaned against her, and she wrapped her arm around his waist. She helped him into the villa, to his room. She led him to a chair, and flew to get the supplies he requested. She watched as he expertly bandaged his own ankle. Georg looked at it regretfully, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I'll be a bit of an invalid over the next few days."
Maria helped him into bed. "I'll take care of you," she whispered.
He chuckled lightly. "I know. I'll depend on you." He pulled her against him, and this time, the kiss was deep and full of yearning. Maria was breathless as she pulled away.
"Georg – your sprain."
He chuckled again. "It's my ankle that's sprained. Not my lips." Maria came willingly as he drew her back to him.
"Don't tell the children about tonight." He murmured into her neck.
"Which part?" She breathed.
He paused, lips hovering to claim her own. "Any of it."