MOMENT OF TRUTH
A/N: As it happens in most chapters of this story, lots of flashbacks in this one. I hope that did not make it too confusing. My thanks to my friends at my fan fiction forum for their helpful comments, and for inspiring me to go on. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: See previous chapters.
Chapter II
Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
and the little churchyard there, with its sorrowing names,
and the frighteningly silent abyss into which the others
fall: again and again the two of us walk out together
under the ancient trees, lie down again and again
among the flowers, face to face with the sky.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us.
Oscar Wilde
An excerpt from Maria's diary…
"This can't be happening to me!"
Those were the first words I said to Georg after he kissed me for the first time in the gazebo. I shall never forget them. There are times when I still cannot believe what is happening to me. It is silly and embarrassing, I know. I am Baroness von Trapp, I am a mother of seven! I should not blush like the girl fresh from the convent I was when he married me whenever he looked at me intensely, or whispered something outrageous in my ear. Yet, I do! The trouble is that my husband had the unique talent of sweeping me off my feet in the most unexpected moments.
This afternoon, for instance, after… our unscheduled stop during our return from Salzburg.
One hour later, when we were finally able to continue our journey back home, Georg parked the car in the patio of the villa. The rain had stopped now and in the sky, towards the Untersberg, a beautiful rainbow could be seen. It had me mesmerized for a while, since I always believed, ever since I was a child, that rainbows carried good omens.
"Why did you stop here?" I asked him, when I finally noticed that we were not inside the garage. Georg glanced at me, and noting the quizzical look in my face, he smiled.
"This is closer to the door, darling, in case we have to make a… quick entrance!"
I nodded towards him, and hastily left the car. He really thought about everything, and it was sometimes annoying how he had that knack of being right all the time… No, not all the time, just most of the times… Well, sometimes. Considering our state, this time, at least, he was right. We really needed to run to privacy before anyone spotted us.
After a bout of intense lovemaking in the car, we did not look exactly – oh well, as distinguished as members of Austrian aristocracy should look at all times. I could almost picture generations of von Trapps rolling in their graves at the very sight of us. Although we had done the best we possibly could to rearrange ourselves before continuing their journey home, to anyone who had experienced just a little passion in life, it was entirely too obvious what we had been doing only moments before.
As my beloved husband would inform me later, I looked thoroughly and properly… ravished (although "ravished" wasn't exactly the term he applied). Naturally, he chose to ignore the fact that it had been I who had done most of the ravishing. My lips were reddened and swollen, and there was a very visible love mark in my neck. To add to all that, a very essential piece of my underwear was missing – I could not find it anywhere inside the car. Georg did not look more decently composed himself, although his own underwear was very much in place. Rather than that, he looked like a depraved sailor who just had his way with his woman under the docks… not that I knew how a depraved sailor – or even a dock - would look like, but after being married to Captain Georg von Trapp for nine months, I had a very good idea.
When he joined me, he leaned down for one last kiss. I felt my lips melt under his and that was the first clue I had that in spite of everything that had happened, we were both far from being sated. At least, I was. I could not help moaning in protest when he raised his head. To my relief, he seemed to understand the true nature of my current predicament – the hand that was resting in the small of my back slowly traveled up to my nape, and his fingers were…
"Georg!" I gasped, as my knees threatened to give way under me. He smiled wickedly at me, the rascal. Oh, the rest was all there too, at the same time – the goose bumps, the butterflies in my stomach… He knew what he did to me when he touched me in that particular manner! Trying to keep a straight face and my feet down to earth as they should be at that moment, I kept my eyes in the knot of its tie.
"It is still crooked," I observed, clearing my throat. My voice shook, and my fingers trembled as I tried to straighten it.
"That, darling, might be the least of our problems at the moment," he said. He sounded too much like his old self, and I raised my eyes to his face, a little puzzled.
He had indeed returned to his old Captain persona. His quick eyes narrowed scanned our surroundings – yes, he was back in control again. His worries seemed to dissolve visibly when he saw that, luckily, there was no one waiting for us. In fact, the patio looked unusually deserted.
"Where do you think everybody is?" I asked.
"They must be busy with dinner by now. Frau Schmidt must be helping the children and Franz…" He looked at me then, and found me torturing my lower lip, nervously. "Don't to that," he said, softly and playfully, touching my lip with the tip of a finger.
To be honest, I was just beginning to feel a little… guilty.
I think they call it Catholic guilt nowadays – so I've been told. Well, it was not my fault, I had brought up to be a nun, not a wife, and, least of all, a seductress. I was born to be guided and commanded, not to command and take charge of anything. "Maria, don't touch that, do this, don't climb that, go there, don't go there…" My first exercise in authority had been with my husband's seven children and it had worked beautifully. I was getting quite good at it, but other than that… I still needed a little coaxing from Georg when it came to letting go of a lifetime of inhibitions.
Georg never had, and never would have a similar problem. I was reminded of a line I had heard from one of his Navy friends before we were even married:
"Captain von Trapp? He is a typical submarine commander – a daredevil. Thinks he can walk on water!"
Georg no longer had his Navy, so he had to be a daredevil somewhere: the bedroom, or, this afternoon, in the unlikely environment of his own luxury car. Although… no coaxing was needed that afternoon – none at all…
The truth is I don't know what came over me!
Maybe it was Peggy's words… No, I don't want to even think about that now. I already wasted too many pages of this poor journal grieving about that same subject. After what my dearest friend had said, I do not even want to think about the possibility that it might not be true, because honestly I don't know how to be able to bear another disappointment.
No, not Peggy's words – Paris!
Maybe it was that, the rain and the isolation, bringing me back memories from our honeymoon. Memories of the night, after we went to that Rachmaninoff's concert… The night Georg showed me exactly what his perfect mouth and wicked tongue could do to me and where… Things that a former future nun would never have imagined a man would do to a woman…(1)
Oh, but I'm digressing again. I'll just say that for as long as I live, the first notes of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto n.o 2 will always have the power to literally set me on fire. It is not the kind of experience a woman ever forgets.
Back to the car now.
The point is I lost control and I was overcome with a huge wave of love. I just wanted him, needed him – and acted upon it. I was only still insecure about what he would think of me for acting like that.
"I never knew I could be quite so… adventurous. I'm sorry," I said, apologetically. His finger still caressed my lower lip.
"Really?" he whispered softly. "Well, don´t be because I am not! Trust me, all this –" he looked down at both of us, meaningfully, "- this was worth it."
"Oh Captain, do be serious!" I exclaimed laughingly.
This is how it worked – one look, one word from him and my momentarily shattered confidence was fully recovered. I also found myself glowing with something that could only be described as… pure, undiluted, feminine pride!
Well, I had to be the first in something with him, hadn't I?
I had always been a firm believer in divine justice, and now, thanks to my wonderfully rational husband, logic. Georg had been the first in everything to me, and there had to be something that he had not done with any other before. I think I succeeded that afternoon, because, as hard as I tried, I could not picture him doing what we did - in the car, in public -, with any of the thirteen women he slept before me.
(Just for the record: no matter what Georg says, I still think thirteen is a very scandalous number, although my beloved can be very scandalous when he has his mind set upon it! Probably because I find the thought of doing the things we do together with thirteen men other than my husband absolutely repellent…)
I tried to bring us back to safer ground.
"I know better by now, I am sure this is not how you like you appear in public. In fact I think this is something unheard of for you… isn't it?"
"At least in the past two decades! Fortunately, there is no one around to witness it. We can just take the back entrance, sneak up to the bedroom clean up and change, and made ourselves presentable again in time for dinner. No one will ever know."
However, my husband, master and commander of the seven seas, would soon discover that there was a flaw in his seemingly perfect plan. Our luck was about to change.
We were hastily making their way to the house, half way through the safety represented by one of the side doors, when the main door opened. Immediately, we stopped and gazed at each other uncertainly. Franz, looking as regal and irascible as ever, walked outside.
Oh dear, dear!
"The word you are looking for is busted, darling!" Georg whispered close to my ear. His grip on her hand tightened, so much that I flinched slightly. "Don't worry," he kept whispering to me, his lips hardly moving. "The key is to pretend that nothing is amiss. We'll be just fine."
That settled it. My husband was telling me not to worry, then I would not. In fact, I refused to worry at all.
Oh, but I hated to look down at people, like sometimes Georg did, if necessary. It was something that was almost second nature to him, but for me, something I had to learn, because sadly it was sometimes necessary in the running of a household as complex as the Trapp villa. Franz, however, practically begged me to do it, so soon enough he became my target practice. As he scanned our appearance, from head to toe, I fired him my best imitation of the ominous von Trapp scowl. My conscience did not hurt the slightest when I had act like the lady of the manor looking down at a lowly vassal. Georg noticed my look, of course (in fact I had stolen it from him), and let out one of his sexy little chuckles.
"I really must do something about this man's insolence," he whispered. "Is there anything amiss, Franz?" he asked, raising his voice in an imposing tone designed to match Franz's impertinent gaze. Franz responded to just as Georg thought he would – he stuttered slightly when he answered the question, although his face remained inscrutable.
"Erhm – certainly not."
"Then can you please tell us what you have in mind so that we can all move on with our lives?" Georg fired with the usual quick speech that used to scare me out of my wits in the old days – even though I would never ever admit that to anyone.
"You have visitors, Captain… Baroness," Franz announced perfunctorily.
Visitors!
Georg uttered one of his old sailor's curses under his breath. Something rare for him, who had been brought with the idea that gentlemen did not curse – ever! I knew what he was thinking, I could almost guess the workings of his mind in moments like these. Mentally, he was scanning the list of all friends and relatives who would dare to commit the ultimate sin of arriving unannounced in his private domains.
He pulled my hand, and brought me closer to him, placing the other one around my waist. The goal of the maneuver was obvious - there would still be time to walk around and use another entrance, but before we could even think of doing that, Max appeared at the door.
"Max Detweiler! What the devil are you doing here?"
Georg was not pleased with the situation, but he was relieved. The grip around my waist relaxed. It was Max, after all. That meant we would probably have to go through the usual friendly banter. In the end, things could have been so much worse! Still, my husband stepped sideways slightly, trying to hide as much of me as he could from the meddlesome impresario´s view, but it was already too late.
"Well, well, well! Look at who managed to find their way back home in this ungodly weather," Max exclaimed, scratching his thin moustache. His small eyes narrowed as he slowly took in every detail of our dishevelment. "How have you been, Maria, darling?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, as if he were trying to see me behind Georges back.
"Max," Georg gritted, threateningly, taking a step forward. "Don't you…"
"Marvelous!" I answered truthfully before my beloved could finish his warning, although nothing I could have said and done would remove the black scowl from his handsome face.
Considering what had happened in the car, undoubtedly I did felt just like that.
Marvelous.
Wonderful.
Splendid.
My body tingled in places only Georg had ever reached. My husband had reduced me to that state which he frequently described to me as a "quivering mass of post orgasmic nerves" – or something like that.. My legs felt wobbly, I could hardly walk straight. I was uncomfortably sticky, wonderfully sore. But marvelous and splendid nonetheless. As much as I was sure he felt himself, deep inside, in spite of the awkward situation we found ourselves at the moment. That he could reduce me to such a state I already knew for some time. That I could do the same to that magnificent, beautiful man was still overwhelming to me.
Georg broke into a genuinely satisfied smile, noting – not without a great deal of amusement – that Max was now rolling his eyes, and that Franz looked like he was about to have a fit.
"It serves them well," I thought, with a smug smile of my own.
The smiles froze in our faces when a veritable reception committee walked unexpectedly out of the door, to see what the little commotion was all about: all of our seven children, followed by Frau Schmidt.
"Father, mother! What happened?" asked Friedrich. Following his cue, his six brothers and sisters started firing questions, simultaneously.
"We were so worried!"
"We called Herr Schneider but you had already left hours ago!"
Georg had to resort to one of his infallible cautionary glances to silence them.
"We are just fine, children. As you can see, we were hopelessly caught by the rain. We had to… uh… find shelter until the worst of it passed." Next he addressed the housekeeper, who was staring at us dumbfounded, her eyebrows raised. "That being the case, Frau Schmidt, we cannot risk ruining the floor or the carpets. We'll take the back entrance this time. Franz, please make sure that the door is unlocked for us, will you?"
"Certainly, Captain." The butler bowed and left, not without reluctance. I could not help but to let out a little sigh of relief. Naturally Georg knew that the other door was unlocked, but he wanted Franz's prying eyes away from them as soon as possible.
"Max, do be charming and keep my children company while we change into… ehrm… dry clothes. We –" he glanced down at me. "As you can see, the rain was not kind to us at all."
Having said that, we started walking again, towards the side of the house. Slowly, elegantly, coolly and as aristocratically as we possibly could, although both of us wished we could just run. And again, we would have been saved by any further embarrassment if not for our extremely observant daughter Brigitta:
"But father… mother?"
"Yes, Brigitta?" Georg asked, stopping without turning back.
"If you were caught by the rain, how is it that your clothes are not even wet?"
I do not remember what the answer he gave Brigitta, I just remember him taking my hand and dragging me behind him as fast as he possibly could. The next thing I remember was both of us laughing, feeling like partners in crime, when we closed the bedroom door behind them moments later.
"Well, at least we solved one of our problems," he said buoyantly, leaning against the door. I looked at him, not sure what he meant, and he explained. "I am sure that by this time Franz is quite busy spreading the news. No one in Salzburg will ever believe you are still a virgin after this!"
I threw a pillow at him – he most certainly deserved it!
I closed my eyes, while he laughed.
He knew!
Of course it had everything to do with me almost being a nun before we married. To my utter horror, I began to realize, as the months passed, that some people did not believe Georg and I ever shared a bed. Whenever I found myself in a gathering of women, and they would eventually start discussing more intimate subjects, I would often hear things like "Maria, cover your years," or "Oh, we should wait until Maria left to talk about this". It was infuriating. If they only knew how multiply and satisfyingly consummated my marriage was...
The wolfish grin in my sea captain's face was simply irresistible. The pillow hitting him squarely in the face was immediately avenged, when, slowly, he pulled out something from the breast pocked of his jacket – my missing knickers. He had them all the time.
"Oh you fiend!"
He slowly walked towards me. Oh, I knew what he had in mind. My reign of feminine power was over – but only for a while.
We were inexcusably late for dinner that night.
Georg von Trapp still smiled at the memory of the pleasant idyll with his wife while he was driving through in a very narrow country path, somewhere high in the Tyrolean Alps, in the remotest part of Austria. Undoubtedly the road was more appropriate for horses and other farm animals than to his automobile, but he was hardly concerned with the damage it could cause to the sophisticated, state-of-the-art vehicle.
He tried to return his attention to the task at hand – driving.
They had left the main highway hours ago, and ever since, he had been driving through smaller and smaller secondary roads, each one narrower and in worst condition than the one before. At times, he had to resort to the help of his inseparable compass, as he tried to read the map with the directions to Maria's farm, given to him by one of his solicitors. The problem as that the man, who was outstanding when it came to helping him with his business deals, did not have the slightest clue about how to draw a proper map. Once or twice, he almost believed himself to be lost, something that he found extremely irritating. After all, Captain von Trapp was never lost, he could find his way anywhere, land or sea, most especially in his own country. He used to take pride in the fact that he knew his beloved homeland upside down and now he had to acknowledge that he was sailing uncharted waters. Lovely as it was at first glance, that particular part of Austria was unknown to him.
He gazed at Maria, letting out a low chuckle. If his wife was awake, she would surely be bickering with him about almost getting lost, in spite of all his notorious expertise in navigation. He would retort that he was never actually lost, merely… disoriented. As much as he enjoyed the silence and the opportunity to be alone with his thoughts that came with it, he missed the sound of her voice, he missed the challenge that every little conversation represented, for she had a sharp wit and an unusual sense of humor that matched his own. It had been like that during the first half of their journey, which had began that morning, before the sun had even risen.
Maria was, however, fast asleep - she had been since they had stopped for a quick lunch. Now she was curled up against the passenger door, her face cushioned against her inseparable carpet bag – one item she brought with her from the convent she always refused to part with. Her lips were slightly parted, and her left hand rested comfortably in her stomach. In spite of the occasionally rough ride, she still did not wake up.
No wonder some people had started to think that their marriage had ever been consummated – looking at Maria in moments like these, he could hardly blame them for believing that. She looked more like a sleeping angel now than the siren who had seduced him in that same car, only two days before. He wondered how many times he would have to make love to her in so many different ways until she would finally loose that basic innocent look in her face…
"Probably never," he concluded immediately. That was one of the things he always found irresistibly alluring about Maria, that exquisite mixture of innocence and womanliness. He felt an absurd wave of male pride when he thought that her passion was reserved for him, and only him, so much that others would hardly even glimpse that side of her.
There was a sudden jolt as the car hit a particularly nasty bump, more than enough to cause him to utter a sailor's curse and for Maria to finally wake up.
"Whaaaat? Where are we?" She blinked several times, looking adorably drowsy.
"Hallo," he said, looking quickly at her from underneath the brim of his hat, his own eyes gleaming with mirth. "I'm glad you decided to rejoin the world of the living!"
"Ooohhhh," was all she said, still dazzled, while scratching the top of her head. Her dark blond hair was not nearly as short now as it had been when he first met her, but it still had a mind of its own. In her muddled state, Maria did not seem to mind it at all. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he used the other to brush her rebel strands in place, ending with a swift caress on her soft cheek.
"Where are we" she repeated the question, stifling a yawn.
"Judging by the disgraceful map I was given, I think we cannot be far away." He found her staring at him, with an odd look in her face. Reluctantly, he removed his hand from her face and placed it back on the wheel. "Why, do you want the exact coordinates? Latitude and longitude?" he jested.
"Do you mean to tell me that you are lost, Captain von Trapp?"
"Maria, I am never…" he started, but she was already laughing.
"It's all right, you don't have to sulk about it" she dismissed, thus saving him from having to admit that not long ago he had indeed found himself… misplaced in his own country. But he was not sulking, was he? He was going to correct her obvious misapprehension when she was already speaking again. "The countryside is already familiar to me. Yes, we are close. I would not worry."
"I am not worried, darling, I am just cursing this blasted map!" he grumbled. He hated to sound so disgruntled, but the fact was that he was becoming weary. Fortunately, by now Maria was used to his volatile moods, at least enough not to be overly affected by them all the time.
"What time is it?" she asked softly, her left hand now kneading the sore muscles in the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension after so many hours of driving.
"Almost three in the afternoon. You've been asleep for nearly four hours."
"That long! I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?"
"O-ho, I couldn't do that to you. Considering the past few days, you needed the rest."
"Yes, but I could have helped you to… know where you were," she teased. Her fingers in his nape stilled and he nearly groaned in frustration. She got his message instantly, and resumed her gentle rubbing. "You know, I used to be able to find my way around these mountains with my eyes closed."
"I was not lost," he repeated emphatically. "I had my compass and you…" he looked at her again, and his exasperated expression immediately softened. "You were sleeping much too peacefully. I didn't have the heart to disturb you."
"Really? It didn't feel so peaceful to me. I had the strangest dream…" she yawned again.
"It was the drive," he shook his head. "How on earth were you able to sleep at all?"
"I must have been more tired than I realized."
"Quite frankly, I was not expecting to find roads in such terrible conditions," he continued. "More than enough for a nightmare or two!"
"It wasn't a nightmare. Just an unusual was telling me to…" Her eyes widened, and it seemed that only at that moment she was finally – and literally - wide awake. She sat up, her spine straight. Her left hand flew from his neck and joined the other one, clutching her chest.
"Oh dear. I forgot something."
"What is it?"
"Something very, very important." He was about to start telling her than unfortunately it was too late to return to Aigen now, but kept talking to herself, the words coming out of her mouth before she could control them. At the same time, she fumbled furiously with the contents of her old carpetbag.
"How could I have been such a nitwit!" she exclaimed loudly, only that she was angry at herself, not him, this time.
"What are you fussing about, darling? And why are you belittling yourself like that?"
"Ahem… I am looking for my journal," she said, the sound of her voice slightly muffled because her head was practically inside the bag.
"Is that the very, very important thing you left behind?"
"Not left behind - forgot," was the blunt reply. "No, it is not that."
"Don't tell me you are able to write while I drive us through the coarsest road in all of Austria," he said humorously.
"I'm not going to write, I am going to read. Here it is," she cried triumphantly, pulling out a thick black book from her bag.
Georg had known for a long time that she had the habit of keeping a journal. They were certainly not like his own journals, the one he was obliged to keep when he was in the Navy, meant to be a precise recording of events. Maria's diaries, not unlike everything else about her, were one of a kind. Rather than a simple narration of daily facts, apparently, Maria wrote about everything and anything that was in her mind at the moment, in no particular order. The pages were full of cryptic notes, sketches, drawings, dried flowers and leaves, scraps she cut from newspapers and magazines. She also kept the little notes he occasionally left her, as well as notes and drawings from the children. As chaotic and disorganized they were, he firmly believed that if Maria's journeys survived a few centuries, he was sure they would be a colorful source of information for any scholar doing research about the life in an aristocratic home in Austria in the late 1930´s.
In her early days in his house, he would frequently find her sitting by the lake with one of her notebooks in her lap. One particular occasion was memorable to him - during the short time he had been watching her that day, she broke the tips of two pencils. Both poor innocent victims were thrown in the lake. Since they'd had one of their notorious arguments only one hour earlier, he had an inkling that it was precisely what she was writing about.
"May I ask what you were writing with such passionate fury, Fräulein?" She had been so startled by his sudden appearance that she broke yet another pencil – she had looked at the small broken object so angrily that for a moment he believed it was going to catch fire in her hand. "I am sure your poor pencils do not deserve such terrible mistreatment. There just may not be enough trees in Austria to supply the demand," he finished with a chuckle.
Maria looked at him like she wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, or worse. Having heard that, she threw the third pencil on the water, then closed the journal angrily and noisily – but not before his quick eyes could see what she had written in huge, red, capital letters:
"CAPT. V. TRAPP = UNREASONABLE LOUT."
"I see," he purred, mockingly. "I couldn't help but being curious about what kind of words a postulant would use to describe our – uh - disagreement." To call their earlier argument a disagreement had been a gross understatement of his part, but he did so on purpose – the temptation to provoke her temper was practically impossible to resist in those days. "You called me an arrogant snob in our last argument, and that was much more insulting. Unreasonable lout – was that the worst you could do this time… Fräulein?"
With an outraged moan, she stood up to face him, balancing herself on her tiptoes to try to be in the same eye level with him. He knew that stance rather well by now – she was getting ready for battle, to kick him where it hurt.
And she did.
Her quick answer would take him aback for a few seconds, but he wouldn't know how strongly it would be imbedded in his brain until a few weeks later, when he would resort to a similar phrase to defend himself against one of Herr Zeller´s verbal attacks.
"I was under the impression, Captain von Trapp, that the contents of a lady's journal in Austria were private."
"Fräulein…" He meant to apologize for the inexcusable intrusion in her privacy, but she never let him.
"I write about everything," she informed him flatly, still holding her stubborn chin up. "But – and this may come as an enormous shock, Captain - not everything that happens in this house is about you!" Her eyes shot daggers at him.
Later, he tried in vain to convince himself that he had walked away from her that day because he did not wish to join the three pencils floating in the lake, for it looked like that was exactly what the little Fräulein wanted to do to him: to grab him by the neck and throw him in the icy cold water. What he had wanted to do, in fact – what he ached to do – was to grab her instead, and kiss some sense into her, not to mention to give her a lesson in passion, worthy of being in the lively, wonderfully chaotic pages of her journal.
With a little smug smile in his face, he wondered if nowadays she indeed wrote everything. He wondered if she wrote about what happened during their car ride back to Aigen, after they left the Schneider's the other day…
His pleasant reveries were distracting him for the road once more, and the car swayed slightly. He cursed under his breath, recovering control and stole a quick glance to his right. Maria was blessedly oblivious of his musings. She had one of her intriguing frowns in her face, and was turning the pages of her journal back and forward.
"Are you perchance following Oscar Wilde´s good advice?" he asked her jokingly. "I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train," he quoted (2).
"No, not exactly," Maria giggled. Her eyes twinkled – he sensed that it meant she was about to tease him back. "In case you haven't noticed, we are in a car, not a train, because if you had noticed you would be keeping your eyes and your thoughts on the road instead of…"
"… entertaining lustful thoughts about my wife?"
"That was most definitely not what I was going to say," she protested, her cheeks turning to a bright pink. "Although you do have that look in your face."
"What look?"
"You know very well! Your eyes are darker, and I know exactly what you are thinking about when that happens."
"Well, I admit, it is true! I just could not help remembering what I did to you the last time we were together alone in this same car… or should I say, what you did to me," he turned to her and winked.
Maria flushed hotly and uttered a little shocked moan. "Captain! When you put your mind into it, you certainly can be a shameless..."
"Is that what you were looking for in your diary?" he continued taunting her, his voice low and seductive. "Because it would undoubtedly qualify as "something sensational to read"…"
"Of course not! That is, it was not what I was looking for."
"Ah hah! So you did write about it!" he exclaimed triumphantly.
"Oowww, you do be quiet. As I told you countless times before, not everything I write in these pages is about extremely conceited sea captains. I am just looking for some old notes, but I don't remember when or where I made them. I really should be more organized about this… Of course it would help if I only added the date to my entries once in a while!"
"You don't date your entries?" Georg raised his eyebrows, surprised.
"I don't know why you sound so surprised. Unlike you in your Navy journals, I am not trying to record history for posterity." Maria shook her head. "I only write about little things that are meaningful to me and dates never had much importance... Well, except maybe for birthdays, anniversaries…" She stopped abruptly. "Liesl´s birthday was February 15th…"
It was a statement, not a question. His wife was doing a little math, whispering and using her fingers to help her. At the same time, she tried her best to add the missing dates in some of her old entries.
"Yes – the 15th."
Georg was fully conscious that he was sporting an absurdly boyish grin in his face – he had figured out exactly what she was doing. It was only too obvious. He knew now why she had called herself a nitwit moments ago, because, in spite of his glee, he wished to call himself even worse names. With a mind as sharp as his own, he did not doubt for a minute that in would only be another minute until she reached the same conclusion he had before the drive was over and if she was going to tell him about it.
"We went to Kitzbühel the week after that, so that would be…"
"February 23rd," he provided the answer as evenly as he could.
"Yes. Thank you!"
Maria had her full attention back to her journal after that, turning the pages back and forth more frantically than before. He could tell the exact instant when she found the answer. Her jaw simply dropped open. She was… dumbstruck.
It had been a memorable weekend: the first time Agathe´s parents had invited he, Maria and the children to spend a few days in their chalet in that charming ski resort. The children had the time of their lives, the eldest ones being reacquainted with skiing, something they had not done since their mother died. As for Maria, instead of frolicking in the snow, she spent the first day and a half inside their room, wrapped in blankets and in the company of bottles of warm water. Not because she was cold, not because she was shy, because she felt unwelcome or because she was sulking. What made her feel so miserable was, in her own words, the worst case of cramps she ever had in her life. To his recollection, that was the last time she'd had her monthly flow.
Exactly 35 days ago…
His smile broadened.
The possibility that she was pregnant slowly became an absolute certainty in his mind ever since Peggy had mentioned it, but until now he did not have an objective reason to believe it. He was a man of reason above all, he needed the scientific evidence. The question was – why on earth hadn't they thought about it before? Why hadn't he realized it? He had been too busy preparing the details of their trip, and making sure the children would be well looked after while they were gone. This was no excuse to him, however. He should have realized it before. Seven children – and he still had been oblivious to the first, the most obvious sign that a woman was pregnant!
Maria was looking at him, awe etched all over her face. He hit the brakes of the car, instinctively.
"Georg, I think…"
"I know," he said almost at the same time. "Yes, my love, I know."
"You do? Why didn't you tell me before?" she sounded a bit disgruntled – not entirely without reason.
"Simply because I realized it only seconds before you did. Maria…"
"Yes?"
"Why don't we wait until we get there, until we are comfortably settled, so that we both can think straight." He raked his fingers through his hair – a nervous gesture. "We'll… do the math and we can figure this out together."
"All right - it is probably a very good idea, but… Why did you stop?" she asked him, suspiciously. "And why are you smiling like the Cheshire cat again?"
"I need to check the directions given to me by my solicitor in this ridiculous scrap of paper he calls a map," he said, clearing his throat and trying to disguise what he was feeling, something he could only describe as pure, unadulterated bliss.
"Georg…" Maria's tone was censorious and her look to him was one of pure skepticism.
He kept a nonchalant look in his face and teased her further. "Why else would I stop now, darling? We are not running out of gas yet, and besides – it is not even raining!" He smirked. That earned him a playful slap in the shoulder.
"Seriously, darling," he continued. "There is a crossing right ahead of us and I am not sure which way we should turn."
It seemed to him that only then she was fully conscious of how close they were to her home. She stared at the road ahead.
"Dear Lord, I'm here!" she whispered. "I had not realized we were so close. I thought I would never return and… well, here I am."
"Never? You vowed never to return here?" he prodded.
"No, I did not vow I would not come back. I was supposed to be a cloistered nun by now, remember?" It was indeed one very logical reason, and her honest reply gave him a great deal of relief. "Turn right," she exclaimed abruptly, for they are about to reach the intersection. "Just… drive until you reach the village, then take the road that begins behind the church. We are not far away now."
No – not far away!
A/N: (1) "Variations on a theme". (2) Oscar Wilde, "The Importance of Being Earnest".
