Three: A Letter Received

To get the mail every day was a task that Brigitta assigned to herself. A naturally bright and curious girl, she loved both learning new things and imparting that new information to others. Every afternoon, Brigitta would run to the gates of the villa and wait for the mail truck. By now, she was on first-name terms with the mailman.

"Hello, Hans! Is there a lot today?" she greeted with a wave.

"The usual, Miss Brigitta," replied Hans the mailman, knowing she liked to be greeted as a lady. "And how is school so far this month?"

"I am happy it is started again," said Brigitta, taking the bundle of letters he offered her. "All of us need the distraction after this summer."

Her voice had a hint of melancholy to it, and Hans knew better than to pry in business not his. So he offered a kind smile to Brigitta and said, "Well, have a lovely day and see you tomorrow."

"So long, Hans," she murmured, absentmindedly. She walked back to the villa deep in thought. Yes, it was a very good thing school had begun several weeks ago, providing an ample distraction for her and her siblings. After this most life-changing summer, it was sorely needed. The sudden departure of Fraulein Maria had been like an awful tearing in the cloth of their lives. For days the little ones were inconsolable, and their father's seemingly careless attitude about it did not help at all. And when he had told her and her siblings of his new engagement the day after they found her gone, well…That was something that had hurt more than they thought it would. The rest of the summer had passed even more gloomily than the start of it had, just before Fraulein Maria had come. School had been a savior to their minds, and all of the children fell to their studies with a great vigor, eager to find order and resolution in that part of their lives.

Coming into the house, Brigitta idly leafed through the letters, as was her habit. All were addressed to her father, as usual. Some were bills, some looked like invitations...Except one. This last one was addressed to "the Von Trapp children." She stopped in her tracks, looking closely at this letter. The handwriting was familiar…She looked at the return address and gave a gasp, nearly dropping the other letters. In the next moment she was running to the family room, where her other siblings were, doing schoolwork and other quiet tasks, as they always did in the afternoon before dinner.

The white door burst open and the six remaining Von Trapp children all looked up in surprise and then worry, to see Brigitta's face so surprised and white. "What is it?" asked Liesl, looking up from her textbook.

"We have a letter," said Brigitta, "from Fraulein Maria."

"What?" A general outcry of excitement arose, and more than one child raced to Brigitta, eager to see proof of her declaration. Brigitta, in turned, rushed to sit by Liesl on the floor and gave her oldest sister the letter to open and read aloud. Marta and Gretl gathered close to Liesl, eager to hear words of their beloved Fraulein after two whole months of silent separation. Frederich, Louisa and Kurt knelt down behind Liesl, reading over her shoulder.

Liesl unfolded the letter with trembling fingers, and began to read aloud.


A knock on his study caused Georg to look up from his half-empty glass of red wine and at the door. "Come in," he called, setting the elegant glass down on the coffee table before him. Marking the hour, he knew who it would be.

The door opened and Brigitta entered, holding a bundle of letters in her hands. "Here is the mail, Father," she said, holding them out for him.

"Thank you," he said, taking them from his daughter. As he rifled through them with little interest, he noticed his daughter was still standing beside him. "Anything else, my bookworm?"

The expression on his middle daughter's face was curious. It was the look she often wore when she had a desperate need to know something but was afraid to ask outright. "Father, today we received a letter from Vienna."

Georg looked at his daughter in mild surprise. "Just addressed to you children? Who from? Uncle Max?"

"No," said Brigitta, shaking her head and pausing before answering. She looked closely at her father's face for a reaction. "It was from Fraulein Maria."

Her father resolutely set his face in a neutral expression, but Brigitta saw in his eyes a flash of something very powerful. "Oh?"

"She wrote that she now lives there, working in a couture dress shop, making ball gowns for rich ladies. She asked after us and asked about school."

She paused, coming to the crux of the conversation: a request. "Father, we know that you'll be going to Vienna next weekend. We were wondering if…while you were there…you could find her and see how she is? We miss her very much, and want to know if she's all right."

Georg looked closely at his daughter, and could see that this was not a casual request. But he made a casual answer. "Well, did she say she was all right in her letter? If she did, why should we not believe her?"

Brigitta's eyes widened and now she looked angry. "Father! Do you not care at all?"

For the first time Georg looked taken aback; for a moment he looked positively insulted. "Brigitta, what's brought on this tone of voice?" he asked, a bit sternly.

"When she left us so suddenly during the party, she said it was because she missed her life at the Abbey too much. But then, two days later, we all went to visit her-"

"So you weren't picking blue strawberries, then?" he asked with a knowledgeable grin.

She shook her head, continuing on. "No. When we arrived, the nuns said that she was no longer a postulant and had left. They couldn't tell us where she had gone. For two months, nothing, no word from her. And now we've heard from her again. You can't imagine how happy we are to hear from her again, and just like when she left, you act like you couldn't care less." She paused, gathering all her courage. "Father, did you do something to make her go away?"

Brigitta watched her father's face flash in anger for a moment before calming himself. "Brigitta, what makes you think that?"

"Well," Brigitta hastily explained, in fear of her father's possible anger. "You didn't like her at all when she first came. You yelled at her and even fired her the day we all fell in the lake. And when you two danced the Landler, she pulled away from you looking scared and with a red face. I'm sorry, Father, but we can't think of anything else that would make her run away like that."

She truly was apologetic for saying these things, and Georg could see that. As he listened, his eyes became almost pained, and Brigitta nearly gasped at the sight. Sitting on the couch, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and hands folded, looking at his daughter. "Brigitta, I would never deliberately do something like that. I don't know what made her leave like that the night of the party. If I scared her away, it certainly was not intentional. I promise you that. And you're wrong: I do care, sweetheart. She did so much for this family and you children I will forever be grateful for. But moping around about it never does any good, does it?"

Brigitta didn't doubt her father, but she also knew he was not telling her everything in this conversation. From the moment she saw them dance, she knew: they were in love. And after what had happened to the family after the party, Brigitta had no doubt that her father knew of his feelings. Now, with the letter she and her siblings had just received, she had no doubt Maria knew too. So all of her brothers and sisters agreed: they had to see each other again, and this trip their father was making to Vienna seemed the only way.

"Will you at least try and find her while you're there, Father?" pleaded Brigitta. "Please?"

Georg gave her a gentle smile and nodded. "I'll try, but I can't make any promises I'll find her. Did she leave a return address in her letter?"

Brigitta gave a full smile and nodded. "I'll go get it now." With that, she hurried out of the room.

Alone again, Georg heaved a great sigh and leaned back into the couch, covering his face with his hands for a moment. He hated to give off a carefree attitude to the children when it came to their beloved Fraulein. But what else could he do? He had to stay strong for them, but perhaps this was not the best way. He had thought that, by showing it was not a big deal, it would be easier for them to move on. But he was only hurting them more.

He finished his wine in one gulp. Why was it that, whenever they lost the most important woman in their lives, he could never handle it properly? At least this time he would resolve this mistake after two months and not four years.

Georg heard the footsteps of his daughter and quickly sat up, putting a normal expression back on his face.

Brigitta hurried in and handed him an envelope with the letter still inside. "There, Father."

"Thank you," said Georg. "Dinner is coming up. Go and tell your siblings to get ready, you too."

"Yes, Father," said Brigitta, and she headed out of his study with a smile on her face, closing the door behind her.

Alone again, Georg leaned back into the couch and looked at the full envelope. Yes, that was her handwriting. By now he knew it well, with all of the times he had looked over her brief note that she had left two months ago. Looking at the return address in the top left corner, Georg recognized the street name. He did not know the area too well but he had been on that street before. If he needed help finding the exact block, Elsa would surely help him.

When pulling out the pages of the letter, he suddenly stopped. After all, this was addressed to the children and not him. But his curiosity overpowered him. Looking at the door he whispered, "Forgive me," and then unfolded the letter and read.

Dearest beloved children,

I hope you are all well and have had a good start in school. I don't know if you even want to hear from me at all, after the way I left you two months ago. Please know that it was not your fault, nothing was. I can't say how sorry I am for the way I left.

Gretl, I remember you once told me that you believed grown-ups never were afraid. I'm sorry to say that is not true. Grown-ups get scared just like children. I was afraid to say goodbye to you so I didn't at all, and I truly regret it.

I know you want to know why I left, if it was not your fault. And by this letter, you will know it is not for the reason I gave in the note I left. When I wrote that note, I believed it too be true. I did miss the abbey and the life I led there. But I found that, when I returned, it was no longer my home. I found that I had made my home with all of you, and I shouldn't have. After all, I was only meant to stay until September, only your governess. I could never ask for more from you. I had to find my life, to find my home, and a fresh start.

Know that I think about you all the time, and am always praying for you. My love for you will never fade; you are extraordinary children whom I know will grow into extraordinary adults. If ever you are in Vienna, I would love to see you, and don't hesitate to write back. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

One thing more, my dear children: mind your father. He loves you more than anything, and though he's made mistakes, you could not ask for a better father.

All my love, Maria

Georg did not expect the lump to rise in his throat as he read, and his eyes to fill. Gently, he traced the letters of the last line, for a wild moment imagining it was addressed to him.

Yes, he had to find her, to at least talk to her. She wasn't telling the whole truth in this letter, he could tell, and he knew he could never rest until he saw her again.

Though he'd originally been apathetic about the upcoming ball in Vienna, his trip to Vienna suddenly could not come fast enough.