Life eased up a bit this week - so this chapter is posted a little in advance of schedule. :)
Lots of repurposed dialogue in this A/U story.
As always, thank you for all the feedback and support - it really inspires me to keep trucking along. xx
Chapter Two
The First Time
Maria Rainer.
The front desk staff gaped when Georg showed up at the school's office the day after receiving Fraulein Maria's letter. None of them had seen Captain Von Trapp before. The only person they had ever glimpsed connected to the Von Trapp children was their dour-faced driver who sometimes came to pick them up from school. There had long been speculation on just who exactly was raising those poor motherless children. When Captain Von Trapp strolled in, tall, stern, and imperial, briskly announcing his name like a waving banner, it intimidated everyone in the room.
But when Georg gave the name of the teacher he wished to see, the atmosphere eased considerably.
"Ah, Maria!" The stout secretary grinned. She glanced at her colleague, who responded with an odd expression, which Georg could only describe as half amusement and half eye roll.
"Did anyone warn you about Fraulein Maria?" A third chuckled.
"No." Georg fixed her with a severe look, and she faltered. "What do they say?"
"Oh! Well, she's a wonderful teacher… some of the time."
Georg raised his eyebrows, prompting the second staff to add, "you'll find it very easy to like Maria… except when it's difficult."
The staff looked at one another ominously, before breaking out into giggles.
"My daughter is very fond of her," he said stiffly, unsure why he was coming to the defense of a woman he'd never met. But he recalled the fiery letter now stowed in his jacket pocket, and it sparked something in him akin to how he felt when he fought tooth and nail for his country.
"Oh but of course – the children love her!" The second agreed. "And why wouldn't they? Half the time they take their lessons out of doors, and the other half the classroom sounds like one of those awful newfangled American parties."
"Of course," the third added, "it's also easy to see why the more… involved parents would be concerned. Very conscientious, you know." The way she glanced at Georg made it clear that she thought he was neither. "They would prefer someone more… by the book, shall we say."
"Oh hush," the first said, seeing the Captain's eyes narrow. "She's a darling, really," she told him, a fond look on her round, matronly face.
"Rather flighty, if you ask me…" the other two staff looked at each other, shaking their heads gravely.
"It's true – when I'm with her I'm confused…"
"Out of focus, a bit bemused…"
The way they were talking over one another was giving him a headache. Georg inhaled, and firmly repeated his request for directions.
Meekly, they pointed the way to Fraulein Maria's classroom. He thought he could still hear them stifle giggles behind his retreating back.
What foolishness. He must remember to ask Max if there was anything he could do about the front desk. Georg knew and firmly believed from his long years in the military that any organization was only as good as its support staff.
As he reached the open doorway of the designated room, Georg caught a glimpse inside. He stopped short, all thoughts of incompetent front desk staff banished at the strange scene before him.
Was this the room? Was it even a classroom? The walls were plastered with posters and cheap prints of lakes, fields, and, he saw with a stab of familiarity, their very own Alps. A few semi-wilted potted plants were clustered near the windows. The desks were arranged in a peculiar semi-circle, leaving a wide expanse of space in the center of the room. Georg could see a small collection of musical instruments in one corner, and a large rack filled with fabric and something vaguely glittery sitting in another. In fact, as far as he was concerned, the only thing remotely reminiscent of a classroom was the large chalkboard along the front wall.
Seated at one of the student desks was a slim, blond-haired girl, head bent together with a younger boy, poring over pages of a workbook.
Georg knocked sharply against the open door.
"Just a moment, please." The girl's voice had a clear, melodious quality. She didn't raise her head, and gave no other indication that she noticed his presence.
Georg stared at the top of her strawberry blond bob – the only part of her head visible to him – stunned to realize the girl he had mistakenly assumed was a student was in fact, the very Fraulein Maria he had come to see.
He'd told himself he was here to see the teacher who had so thoroughly bewitched his children and request she rescind the forward contents of her letter. After all, the woman was out of line. Lecturing him how to handle his own children! He didn't admit it, but Georg had also spent last night and the better part of the morning filled with a need to justify himself, a need which vanished the moment he'd decided to pay the school – and the teacher – a visit.
Georg didn't know what kind of woman he had expected to see, but the writer of the fierce challenge he'd received was vastly different from the slip of a girl that now confronted him. She couldn't be much older than Liesl! This fragile little thing could hardly be qualified to be a teacher. How on earth does she manage a classroom of students? Not that this could really be called a classroom. It was much too wild… and cluttery. And her attire! She was wearing an ill-fitted, dull-colored dress that was several inches too short, and he could see her heavy black boots peering out from under the hemline. No persons of authority should ever dress so insensibly.
At once, Georg felt a stab of sympathy and understanding for the ladies at the front desk. He was beginning to feel a little bit bemused himself.
His sudden confusion kept Georg from interrupting as she left him unceremoniously waiting at the door. It gave him a few long moments to absorb the scene in front of him, gathering himself from his shock.
He watched as she picked up a pencil, making several markings in the workbook, turning to the boy as she did so. He caught a brief glimpse of a long nose and delicate cheekbones. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he guessed from the student's increasingly bewildered expression she was trying to explain something without much success. Georg frowned.
Suddenly, Fraulein Maria sprang up, moving to an old keyboard at the back of the room like a whirlwind. The student hurried to follow.
Georg watched, increasingly puzzled, as she played a quick series of chords and arpeggios, gesturing animatedly with her free hand all the while. The boy paused, then moved up beside her to play another series of chords. He saw her nod, saw him run to the desk, scribble something into the workbook, and race back to show her. Fraulein Maria clapped her hands together in an oddly childish gesture of excitement. "That's right!" She pronounced happily. A wide smile lit up her face, and for a moment, her radiant expression caught him off guard.
Before Georg had figured out what was going on, the tutoring session – if that was indeed what it was – had ended, and the boy had charged right past him.
Fraulein Maria followed toward the door with light, springy steps, her gaze lingering on the departed student
"What on earth was that?" Georg managed. Something about the scene he'd just witnessed had left him short of breath.
She looked at him for the first time, the gay smile she wore faltering at the imposing, immaculately dressed apparition before her. Her clear blue eyes widened, and she halted mid-skip. It seemed to Georg that even her limbs had become more subdued.
"Algebra, sir." Her voice was quiet and formal. Absurdly, Georg found himself wishing she wasn't suddenly quite so… normal.
"And that display over there?" Georg raised his eyebrows toward the piano.
"That was an illustration." She said with a slight smile.
"… of?"
"… An algebra concept." Was she mocking him? Something in her earnest eyes suggested otherwise.
"You were using a heptatonic scale to illustrate a base 10 system?" Georg's eyebrows traveled up his forehead. Her lips made an 'o' of surprise. His quirked in amusement.
"There is geometry in the humming of the string, there is music in the spacing of the spheres." Her voice was solemn, but he didn't miss the wicked gleam in her eye.
Geometry, not algebra. But still, she recovers quickly. Impressively quickly. The thought gave him an unexpected jolt of pleasure. It was as though he were a fencer who had found an equal sparring partner.
"Pythagoras," he nodded, voice equally solemn. "Fraulein, I don't know what you did with that boy… it was unlike anything I'd ever seen."
The wide grin he'd already come to think of as her trademark flashed across her face, but she shrugged modestly. "Evan's a very talented young man – one of my most naturally inclined music students. Algebra is his stumbling block. It's my stumbling block too, actually. I'd never thought to use music by way of explanation – it was a lucky try."
"The method's got potential," he smiled.
Fraulein Maria laughed. "It's people who have potential. Children, especially – you just need to find the way."
"Hmm. And you consider yourself an authority on the matter, Fraulein?"
She looked taken aback by the sudden chill in his voice. "Of course not, sir." A faint blush stained her cheeks. "Every day is a challenge and a discovery. The students teach me as much as I teach them."
"But you do think you're able to help them find their way?"
"What I only meant is that every student is different, you just have to get to know them. I have a family of seven siblings right now, and despite what everyone else seems to think, I never would have gotten through to them if I believed I ought to treat them all the same."
Georg realized she didn't even know who he was. They had been so caught up in easy banter that they had forgotten the niceties of introduction. The room suddenly felt very small, even though he was still standing in the doorway. He felt himself visibly tense, but Fraulein Maria seemed to have forgotten he was there.
"Nobody has taken the time to know them, you see…"
A different voice echoed her words in his mind, and a memory he hadn't thought about in years bubbled to the surface.
It had been months since he'd retired, and it was the first day she'd left him alone with the children. She'd come home in time to see Frau Schmidt whisk away the three younger children. Liesl and Friedrich were shouting at each other from across the room, and Louisa was throwing a tantrum on the ground.
"Georg darling, don't panic." She'd seen the look on his face the moment she walked in on the mayhem. Her arm slid reassuringly around his waist, and she laid her head against his shoulder.
"It takes time. You'll see."
"They are each so starved of attention," he came out of the memory in time to hear the Fraulein say. "Their father – "
Georg coughed involuntarily.
The sound was enough to bring her out of her thoughts. Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew huge as she looked him over. Liesl's eyes. Friedrich's jaw. Brigitta's nose. He saw her note each feature with an absentminded nod of her head. The next moment her cheeks were flushing and her hands flew to her mouth.
"Captain Von Trapp," she gasped through her fingers.
He nodded stiffly.
They stared at each other. Georg felt he ought to use this revelation to his advantage, exert his authority, but he couldn't look away from her face. Her eyes were deep blue, pupils wide with shock. They lightened as her expression worked its way from surprise to embarrassment and finally, to questioning. By God, was she ever transparent.
On cue, she blurted, "why sir, you don't look at all like a sea captain."
He bristled. "And I'm afraid you don't look very much like a teacher."
Max had once told him that his scorn could wither a plant. Fraulein Maria felt it sting, and flushed pink with indignation. She drew back her shoulders, chin jutting stubbornly in a challenge.
Well, I am one. And you're standing in the doorway to my classroom.
Georg blinked. Her body language was as obvious as if she'd spoken.
"Can I help you… Captain?" She asked pointedly.
He slid the letter from his inner jacket pocket, holding it up for her to see. Fraulein Maria met him gaze for gaze. Her eyebrows lifted in invitation, but her face was determined and unapologetic.
"In the future, you will kindly remember that my children do not need a teacher to speak on their behalf. Especially not to their father." He emphasized that last word.
She looked surprised. Whatever rebuff she had expected, that hadn't been it. "I – I was only trying to help..."
"Do not forget that you are merely a teacher, Fraulein."
She made a little exhale of outrage. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Do not assume you know how to help."
"I know a little."
He snorted. "Know? From what experience? From idealizing?"
"Idealizing! Pardon me, sir! From empathizing! Perhaps you could give it a try, Captain – "
"That's enough, Fraulein!" Georg looked at her, hard. "I don't want to hear anymore from you about how to raise my children – "
"I know you don't, but you've got to!" Her forceful voice lashed at him as her eyes flashed. He stared. It was very much a command.
She pressed her advantage. "Now, take Liesl – "
"You'll not say one word about Liesl." Furious, he stalked past her into the classroom.
"You're going to wake up one day and find she's a woman, you won't even know her! Friedrich – he wants to be a man like you, and there's no one to show him how."
He stopped. "Don't you dare tell me about my son."
"Brigitta could tell you about him, if you let her get close to you, she notices everything. And Kurt! He pretends he's tough not to show how hurt he is when you brush him aside – "
He turned sharply to face her. "That will do!"
"Louisa I don't know about, but someone has to find out – "
"I said, that will do!" Georg towered in front of her. His voice was low and dangerous. "You may think you've found 'a way' with my children, Fraulein, but that does not mean you have found a way into the family."
Her lips parted. She took a step back, not as though he intimated her, but as if he had hit her. They were close enough he could see something fold behind her angry facade. She swallowed valiantly, and somehow, her eyes stayed dry. She would not look away, giving him stare for stare. "I have never presumed to be a part of your family, Captain," she said steadily.
She looked young, vulnerable, and it was clear his words had done damage. He had come wanting to defend. It had not been his intention to attack. Georg exhaled slowly, trying to reign his temper. "What goes on between my children and I is not open for public debate," he said in a quieter voice. "My children are to come to me if they have any reservations."
"Oh, but they wouldn't dare!" Her exclamation was a half gasp.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" It was his turn to ask. He hadn't meant to ask it, to indulge her, but the words slipped out before he could swallow them.
She took a step toward him, and her voice trembled with intensity. "They love you too much. They fear you too much."
Georg inhaled sharply. Love. Fear. Their conversation, so explosive a moment ago as she assailed him about his children, had taken on an intimacy he had not anticipated. And he suddenly realized he was not prepared to have this sort of conversation, least of all with this obstinate young Fraulein, with her hopeful ways and starry-eyed ideals.
It shook him in a way he couldn't understand. He wanted to command her to stop discussing his children, but from the little he knew of her, he sensed the comment would provoke rather than silence her.
"Fraulein, my children do not sing in public." He said at last. His voice was tight.
"Captain…"
"They will not be participating in the play – "
"But it's the school's most significant holiday event!"
"Well, it's a significance they'll just have to live without. And they know better than to be – " he glanced down at the letter, grounding out the word with disdain, " – heartbroken over it." How could this young woman use such a word, when she must have known Liesl, Friedrich, and Louisa had known true heartbreak?
"But sir… they're children."
"Yes. And I am their father." Georg turned to leave. "Good day, Fraulein."
