'There
is a comfort in the strength of love;
'Twill make a thing
endurable, which else
Would overset the brain, or break the
heart'.
Michael, Wordsworth
Prelude:'Get the children all together,' directed Georg with a calmness that belied his internal anguish. 'Don't say anything that's going to make them worry, just get them ready….,' he gently guided Maria towards the staircase. 'We've got to get out of Austria, and this house…tonight.'
Drawing her to him, he wondered how he could ever have dealt with the telegram had she not become part of his life. Harsh, distant, angry man that he was, the 'request' from Berlin would have been the last straw. Now, albeit a bitter blow, he suddenly felt an inner equilibrium, an ability to deal the future, which would have been quite impossible without Maria's soothing presence. Breathing in the scent of her hair – lily of the valley or rosewater, he wasn't sure which – he tightened his arms around her shoulders, wishing they could continue standing together, their mingled silhouettes at the foot of the staircase.
'Georg…,' Maria slowly lifted her head, yearning to somehow absorb his distress, that by some form of osmosis the pain could leave him and enter her own body. 'Darling, we will get through this, we'll leave Austria and build a new life in…where exactly were you thinking?'
A flicker of a smile passed over his face. 'Switzerland would be the obvious choice,' he said, cupping her cheek. 'The Swiss are renowned for their neutrality, after all.'
The desolation in his tone struck a deep chord within her. 'Anywhere, anywhere at all so long as you don't have to accept that commission,' she murmured, covering his hand with her own.
Georg looked at the piece of paper in his other hand with distain. 'Maria, I am only doing this out of sheer necessity…I hate the thought that I've only just brought you home only to leave again.'
'My home is with you,' she replied, reaching up to kiss his cheek. 'Although we're leaving, we will always be Austrian, Georg.' And, gently uncurling his fingers, she withdrew the telgram from his clenched fist.
'The Anschluss may have happened,' she whispered, tearing the telegram in half, 'but that does not mean we have to co-operate.' She tore the paper again into quarters.
His hand moved down the back of her lemon-coloured jacket, pressing her firmly to him. 'Maria, my love, you…' His throat constricted. 'You understand everything,' he finished, his voice condensed with love.
'Shh.' Maria kissed his neck. 'I know. Georg, I'm yours. Nothing can change that. And certainly not the Nazis.' Lightly brushing his lips with hers, she unwillingly extracated herself from his arms. 'And now I'm going to get the children ready.'
He grabbed her wrist as she began to climb the stairs. 'Maria...' She turned back and stared down at him, her eyes filled with devotion. 'You do know that…
'I love you,' they chorused in unison, grinning once more at their united response.