Maria walked away from the childrens room tired but smiling. She had nothing short of revelled in the small joys and dramas of putting seven excited children to bed, from brushing Gretl's hair to catching the boys not brushing their teeth. The evening had been so joyful, the children happy to have her back and Max making everybody laugh.

The Captain had been the most quiet, but certainly not the least happy. He had seemed content to just sit back and enjoy the returned joy in the household. His gaze, when not on his children, was on her. Even when she didn't see it, she could feel it. But she didn't feel uncomfortable by it, because she knew that in his gaze was nothing hurtful. Since their shy greeting, they had not been able to talk to each other beyond shy glances and small smiles and blushes. Maria knew that, sooner or later, they would have to talk alone. There were burning questions in his eyes he wanted her to answer; Maria had seen that.

Coming to her bedroom door, Maria was caught by surprise. Sticking out between the door and the frame was some paper. Curiously, she pulled it out before going into her room and shutting the door. Sitting at the chair by her window, Maria looked more closely at what she had found.

One was a sealed envelope with a letter inside; it was addressed to her at the Abbey. Confused, Maria looked at the second piece of paper, with no envelope. Unfolding that, Maria immediately recognized the handwriting of her employer. Only one line was written:

I was going to mail this to you, but obviously you've saved me the trouble.

Now even more curious, Maria opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. There was his handwriting again, and Maria began to read:

Dear Maria,

If you have no wish to hear my name again, I apologize. The last thing I want to do is hurt you again; I have made too many mistakes. But after meeting your brother and talking to Max this morning, I cannot help a small feeling of hope that you may want to hear what I want to say.

I only propose this: that you come back to finish your term as governess to my children. They miss you very much, and I'm sure you must miss them.

But there is something else you must know. I can no longer deny that my feelings for you run deep, Maria. Please believe I would never, ever do what I said in a drunken frustration; I care too much about you to hurt you again intentionally. If you are still uncomfortable around me and cannot forgive me, I completely understand.

If, however, you can find it in your heart to care for me as well, I would like your permission to court you. There is so much I want to make up to you, to tell you, to show you, to treat you the way you deserve to be treated, but that must be up to you. One word from you is all I need. Whatever you wish, I will do.

Think about it. Please, Maria.

Georg Ritter Von Trapp

Maria's head was spinning. He wanted to court her. Court her. She barely knew what that meant. What came to mind when she read that word was a young man calling on a young woman's house with a flower, preparing to meet her parents. What did the Captain have in mind when he wrote that word? And would Maria want that as well? She looked down at the letter again, reading how there was so much he wanted to make up to her, tell her, show her, treat her . . . She was not afraid of him, she was pretty sure he would never do anything to make her uncomfortable, especially after all that had happened.

One part of her mind said, "Are you ready for this? Do you truly want to have a new relationship with the Captain?" After all, she'd never had this kind of relationship with a man before; for the longest time, she never expected to have one. But things were different now, and the other, bigger part of her mind said in reply, "Isn't that why you came back? To explore these new feelings?"

Sighing, she knew that now was the time to talk to him alone. Perhaps she could wait until tomorrow, even a few days, but she remembered that he still needed to know of her decisions. The thought of leaving him in the dark for longer, when he'd already been through so much, didn't sit well with her.

So, tightening her stomach, Maria put the paper into her bedside table-draw and headed out of her bedroom to look for him.

The first place Maria went was his study. The light was off and the door was shut. If he had already retired to his room for bed, she would not bother him. But he might be outside . . . It was a beautiful evening, after all, why should she not take advantage of it, as she normally would.

A warm breeze, uncharacteristic after sundown, touched her when she stepped outside and she closed her eyes. It seemed to reassure her that she had nothing to fear. God was telling her He was still with her, through thick and thin. When she opened her eyes, Maria saw the Captain. He stood at the gate to the lake, gazing out over the calmly rippling waters, with his hands clasped behind him.

As Maria softly came closer, she wondered what he was thinking. Did he want to be alone right now? Should she perhaps wait until tomorrow? But somehow she knew she couldn't; it was now or never. So she took a deep breath, as if she were about to dive into the lake, and said softly, timidly, "Excuse me, sir?"

The Captain almost started at the sound of her voice and turned around. The sight of her took his breath away, standing there in that blue dress she had worn to dinner. Perhaps he was reading too much into the situation, as he usually did, but her choice of wearing that dress definitely meant something, especially considering its origins. "Fraulein," he greeted, hating that he used that term, but he didn't know what her reaction would have been if he'd given her her proper name.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you –" began Maria hesitantly, trying not to get lost in his gaze again.

"No, no, it's no disturbance," replied the Captain hastily, not wanting her to go. "It's a beautiful evening."

"Yes."

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two. Maria stood, twisting her fingers, trying to find the words to begin.

"Would you like to sit down?" asked the Captain, motioning towards the nearest stone bench.

Maria cast a glance behind her at the house, and then nodded. They took a seat on one of the indicated bench, not too close but not too far; either way, they weren't touching. Both were adorably nervous, anxious to find out what the other would say, feel and do. Because Maria initiated this meeting, the Captain waited patiently for her to begin. As he did, he just revelled in being in her presence again. He'd missed her a lot.

Finally, Maria found the courage to begin. "I've read the letter you left for me, Captain. Before I can give an answer, there are things I need to tell you, things I need you to understand."

That didn't sound very promising to Georg, but he said, "I will listen to anything you tell me."

His gentle tone and gaze gave Maria courage. She sighed before she began. "It feels like I've been away for more than a week. More like a season or a year."

The Captain felt the same way. He knew his reasons but not hers. "Why do you feel that?"

"Because I came to question many things in my life that I'd always been sure of. It's been scary and hard, I won't deny that. But with the bad came worlds of good: The Reverend Mother helped me, I saw my brother again, and I even ran into Max. I'm sure he's told you all about that."

"Yes, he did," said Georg. "And I'm sure your brother told you how I met him."

"Ah, yes," said Maria, rubbing the back of her neck. "That was unexpected for all of us . . . though I am grateful it happened."

Georg looked at her, surprised at her last statement. He felt the same way.

Maria continued, not sure of the reaction he would show to her revelation. "Anyway . . . I can't find the right word to describe how this last week was for me. Significant, perhaps . . . well, one fact that I discovered about myself is this: I am not meant to be a nun. This morning, I told the Reverend Mother I am no longer a postulant."

Georg could not deny the elation he felt at that news. He had felt from the moment he'd met her that the life of the cloistered was definitely not for her. The feelings he had for her had nothing to do with that opinion; it was simply true, and she'd realized it. Neither could he deny the relief he felt. But he betrayed none of these emotions to her; just because she was no longer a postulant didn't mean she returned his feelings.

"So," Maria continued, "Knowing that, I knew I could no longer stay at the Abbey, at least not for long. I still felt horrible for leaving the way I did and missing the children, I could think of no place else I would rather go. So here I am."

"There is no way to properly express my gratitude for your coming back," said the Captain sincerely.

They looked at each other for a moment, and Maria gulped silently; the moment had come that he had been waiting for. "So . . . I've read your letter, sir, and I think I can give you an answer. It's why I came to speak to you."

"I see," said the Captain. Maria, who's nature was usually so open, was hard to read now. All he could see was struggle now, but what she was struggling with he couldn't tell. All he could do was wait for her now.

Maria got up from the bench and walked a few steps away from him, twisting her fingers again. When she had formed the words in her mind, she turned back to face him. She gave him a look he couldn't quite name; the best comparison he could think of was a person staring at a work of art that fascinated but confused them. "By all accounts, I should be furious with you. I should never want to see you or have anything to do with you again. Even for the sake of the children, I wouldn't have come back if I felt that way . . .

"But instead, I find myself wondering. Wondering why, when the Reverend Mother told me she had written to you inquiring after my return, I wished she hadn't to avoid causing you more pain and guilt. Wondering why, when my brother told me of his conversation with you, I at once got angry with him for possibly hurting you. Wondering why, it wasn't only the children, Max, and the house I missed . . . but you, too."

Georg couldn't move, barely breathe; he hung on her every word, words he had only dreamt of hearing on very good nights.

"It's obvious that I have feelings for you that extend beyond what a governess should feel for her employer, and that you have similar feelings in return. I know that now, from the way you said good-bye to what you said in your letter, which makes this easier, and makes me feel less afraid."

Georg stood up, but didn't come closer to her. "I don't want you to be afraid of me. Just the fact that you came back is more than I could ask or hope for."

Maria gave him a small smile, but her hands were still wringing nervously. "I only ask that you understand that all of these feelings I'm having, I've never felt before. I can't name them, and I don't think I'm ready to. The experience I have with men is so little, especially in this capacity. And up until very recently, I thought I knew my fate. Since I was a little girl I wanted the life of a nun. But that's all changed now. This past week or so has been a whirlwind for me, and I don't think I can handle any more big changes like that. Will you remember that, promis to remember that?"

"I promise," said the Captain, hardly being able to keep the hope that was flooding through his veins at bay.

She smiled again, shyly but sincerely, as she took a step towards him. "Then yes, I would like to be courted by you."

The Captain, in turn, took a step towards her. They were now a foot apart, and Maria could feel that warmth radiating from him again. It felt . . . wonderful. "Are you sure that's what you want, Maria?"

Maria met his gaze unflinchingly, not feeling at all afraid. She knew he understood, and would not hurt her or rush her now. "Yes, very sure, Captain."

He gave her that half-smile she had missed so much, even as he chuckled. "Well, if we are now courting, I certainly don't think you should call me Captain when we're alone like this, Maria, as if you were under my command. We are equals, no matter our feelings. Please give me my name."

Maria smiled, excited by that prospect. "As you wish . . . Georg." His name felt lovely and natural on her tongue, the last sign that said she was doing the right thing for herself.

Georg gave her such a warm look that her heart fluttered rapidly. Gently, he put his hands on her shoulders, brought her towards him, and kissed her forehead. Like the time a week ago he had, the kiss was warm, gentle, but powerful. And instead of tears and sadness, all she had now was peace and a new sense of security that she'd never had before.

Georg pulled away and offered her his arm. "It's getting late, we should head back inside. Safe to say we've all had an eventful day."

Maria laughed and gratefully placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. As he led her back to the house, Maria marvelled at how natural this felt, to walk with him like this. Had she stepped up to his level, or had he come down to hers? Perhaps they'd been on the same level from the start, but walls had separated them. Both were silent, occasionally exchanging a shy but happy glance. Georg couldn't have felt happier or luckier.

Coming inside the house, Georg glanced down at the hand wrapped around his arm, noticing her bandage again. "How is your hand, Maria?"

She looked down at her bandage. "Oh, for days I've forgotten the bandage was there anymore. I haven't even felt any pain. I suppose the burn wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been." She looked at him as she said the last sentence, and he understood and smiled.

"I think it's ready to come off now, if that's how you feel," said Georg. "May I help you remove it?"

"I would like that very much."

Wordlessly, the two made their way into the kitchen. Georg extracted a pair of medical scissors and a slightly moistened towel. Using the scissors, he carefully cut the gauze and tape, allowing it to fall away from her hand. He wiped and cleaned the newly exposed hand with the towel and inspected the burn. Indeed, it had healed, but her skin still bore traces of the boiling water. His fingers gently stroked her hand, paying attention to the healing skin, before realizing she was watching him. He looked up, not sure if she wanted him to keep touching her like that.

Maria only smiled. "It will heal fast."

He smiled back, gently holding that hand between both of his. "Maria, how can I ever thank you for coming back to us?"

She kept smiling and shrugged. "I'll think of something in time, I'm sure."

After another silent and content moment, in which she let him hold her hand in his, the chiming of the clock reminded them of the time. Maria gave a small sigh and said, "Well, I suppose I should go to bed. My exhaustion is starting to catch up with me." She met his gaze again, and her heart started pounding again. "Goodnight, Georg."

He brought up her hand to his lips and tenderly kissed the healing skin. "Goodnight, Maria." Georg let go of her hand, and she went up to her room alone, with a smile on her face and an unfamiliar, giddy feeling.

Georg stood in the kitchen for a long while, not able to wipe the huge grin off his face, as he silently said at least one hundred expressions of gratitude to God for his second chance, and a thousand promises to never take it for granted or ruin it.