1938, en route to America

The mood was mutinous in the small ship cabin all eight of them were cramped into. Marta, bored and restless, whined and pouted and carried on in such a manner that caused Brigitta, trying to finish the one novel she had with her, to uncharacteristically lose her temper in the worst way. Marta quickly burst into dramatic, attention-seeking tears, which set Gretl off. Ever since their harrowing escape from Austria, their behavior had taken a downward spiral into late toddlerhood. In their unsucessful, conflicting attempts to quieten their younger siblings, Kurt and Louisa started to go at each other, culminating in Friedrich screaming at both of them.

"That's it-- I've had it!" Friedrich jumped off his bunk and made his way to the door. Georg, trying distract Gretl with alternating bribes and threats, called after him. " Stop right there. Where do you think you're going? It's not safe to be wandering around the ship at this time of the night--"

"Dammit, I'm not a baby anymore, so if you please, kindly stop treating me like one!"

"You watch your langua--" the cabin door slammed shut. Gretl howled.

Liesl, who had been sitting passively in a corner the entire time, got up with a short sigh and started towards the door.

"Liesl?" her father looked at her helplessly. Liesl paused in the doorway.

"I want Fraulein Maria!" Gretl whined.

"Come on now, don't cry... Tell you what, I'll tell you a story, how about--"

"No, I don't want to hear a story from you! I want Fraulein Maria!"

" Stop that, Gretl! " Louisa snapped. "you're hurting Father's feelings."

This time Marta, whose histrionics had subsided for the moment, began to sob in earnest. " I want Fraulein Maria back!"

Georg looked pleadingly at Liesl again. Liesl simply stepped into the doorway and closed the door, shutting out her family behind her. So did she.

The corridor was cold, dark and dank, but anything was better than that cabin. She found a little stairwell where she could sit. She knew her father needed her, but she was tired. Tired of having to be a sixteen going on seventeen mother to all of them. Tired of having to attend to everyone's needs but her own. Tired that no one, including her father, bothered to see her as anything other than the oldest sister, the one to come to for help, rather than a person. She was sixteen. She had a life, or at least she once did. She once had a boyfriend with whom she could indulge in silly poetry and quaintly adolescent fantasies. A boyfriend who began slipping away when he started to see his future in Hitler rather than her, she thought darkly. And there was no one in her family whom she could share any of this with. Only Maria. In Maria she found a friend, the older sister she never had. This vivacious young woman, only a few years older than herself, so alive and brash, warm, funny, the kind of person you always wanted to be around. Who could both climb trees and run around Salzburg with the energy and unaffectedness of a child, and at the same time sit down and listen to Liesl and talk with her. And completely understand, with the empathy and understanding only another sixteen year old could have-- and yet the sort of care and concern only a mother would have. Liesl remembered how she stood in the doorway watching as Maria helped her siblings pack that last day, trying to cheer them up. She had managed to turn the frightening and unbearably sad prospect of leaving Austria into a bright new adventure. One that they would all share together.

And now, so unexpectedly, she was gone from their lives. Back in Switzerland they had all wept for hours when they realised she had been left behind. They tried to believe their father when he told them that she would be perfectly safe and in good hands, that the Nazis would not be looking for her-- there wasn't anything else they could do. Thankfully the next three weeks were at least made bearable by the presence of their beloved Uncle Max, who kept their spirits up with his acerbic wit and sense of fun, almost like the sense of fun Maria had. But now even Uncle Max was gone. Instead of America, he made his way to Holland. And the full realisation of Maria's absence hit them. Liesl felt very much alone again, almost the way she had felt when her mother died. She stared into space for a while longer, then, steeling herself, got up and headed back to her cabin, where she would resume her responsibility as her family's caretaker.

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Liesl would later remember on that tedious journey to America it seemed nobody could stop thinking or talking about Maria, except for her father, who fell silent whenever her name was mentioned. But, it seemed, as soon as they got off the ship and stepped into their new lives as American citizens, all of that abruptly ceased, as though they'd forgotten she'd existed. Only Gretl and Marta made passng references to her, but that soon faded. Children forget quickly.

The first two years in America were difficult. The first few months were spent in a small apartment in New York, and then thankfully they managed to move to Vermont. With its mountains and open spaces it was so much more like home. Friedrich and Kurt both took up a paper route. With no servants as of old, all of them learnt to pitch in with the housework. Gone were their strictly observed bedtimes and their formal mealtimes. They had breakfast in their pyjamas, with Kurt serving them slightly burnt and very misshapen pancakes. Even their father seemed to adapt to the more casual American lifestyle; gone was the autocratic disciplinarian-- although he could be stern when he needed to be-- in his place was a slightly absentminded, shambolic father who would on occasion mistakenly pour orange juice into his cereal and whose gruff demeanor belied a wicked sense of humour. They adapted and thrived. They made new memories. Georg found work with a local inn, and over the years he rose through the ranks, eventually being given the position of manager. Friedrich shot up to a strapping six feet two and was very much a ladies' man. Brigitta consistently made the honor roll and had her eyes firmly set on Wellesley. She and Louisa shared a fierce passion for MGM movies and showtunes. Marta at thirteen was showing signs of becoming a promising artist. They had grown into the family they had never thought they could become all those years ago.But for Liesl-- indeed all of them, although they never knew since they never once talked about it-- with every holiday, every boating trip, every Christmas, she couldn't help secretly thinking to herself how perfect this was all was, but only one little thing was missing. One small but very vital piece was missing from all those boating trips, those recitals, those Christmases. Only Maria.