A Time to Connect
Georg stood frozen there for a span of about three seconds before he started after her. Guilt was seeping through his veins like a poison, as it should be. Fighting in the wars against physical equals and political enemies was one thing – this was another thing entirely. Something much worse.
Even as he headed back inside, intent on finding her again and begging for forgiveness, he still could not find any words to give her. It frustrated him, that he could not really name why he had done what he had done, why he had put so much on her and distorted the image of her so much in his mind. What had made him do this to her?
But once he entered the house, he paused. He was hearing something he couldn't name for a split second. Then he realized it was singing, along with the faint chords of a guitar. It wasn't only one person singing, but a group. The voices sounded very nice, a harmony and descant adding to the main melody. The song was very familiar to him too:
The hills are alive with the sound of music
With songs they have sung for a thousand years.
The hills fill my heart with the sound of music.
My heart wants to sing every song it hears.
He walked closer towards the sound of the singing. A possibility of who could be singing entered into his mind, but it sounded impossible. It couldn't be, could it?
Stopping at the open door into the drawing room and looking in, Georg saw that it was: His seven children, standing in a formation, were singing. He barely noticed Elsa listening, sitting on the couch, or Max, the only one who noticed his presence. All he could see and hear now was his children.
My heart wants to beat like the wings
Of the birds that rise
From the lake to the trees.
My heart wants to sigh
Like a chime that flies
From a church on a breeze.
Where had his children learned how to sing? And so beautifully, too? He noticed Liesl playing a guitar – briefly wondering where she had learned to play – and recalled where the guitar had come from…
She'd been right. About everything. He could see that now, with his heart open and thawing. For the first time, he was able to look at his children without feeling pain or loss. In a way, he was looking at Agathe, whose death had been so unexpected, so unfair, and so hurtful to him. He could see her now, as she had been when alive, alive in each one of his children now. She had not abandoned him, after all. His anger had been fruitless, and he had taken it out on his children in the coldest way.
It's nearly impossible to describe the healing process that began within Georg that day, but it was happening, powerfully. His heart was reborn, and reached out like a child for his children.
He listened for a moment to their song, a song that described all that his children had wanted to feel and do, and now all he felt and wanted to do:
To laugh like a brook
When it trips and falls
Over stones on its way.
To sing through the night
Like a lark who is learning to pray.
His heart took over his actions, and he made no move to stop it. He stepped slowly into the room and began to sing. How he knew the song, he did not know. It was vaguely familiar to him, and his heart seemed to have opened up every memory of his soul he had.
His children's voices faded in shock when they saw and heard him. He couldn't blame them – he could hardly believe it himself.
I go to the hills when my heart is lonely.
I know I will hear what I've heard before.
His children seemed to find their voices, and they chimed in as harmony while he finished the song, the words so prophetic and true.
My heart will be blessed with the sound of music,
And I'll sing once more.
The voices faded, and father and children stared at each other. Surprised, afraid to believe, hoping, and loving. Georg gave a hesitant, scared smile and tried to speak, but again found no words. He took a scared step towards his children, his arms moving but then drawing back.
Thankfully, his children seemed to understand his wish, and rushed to hug him. He hugged them right back, tightly. They cried and he cried.
No words can adequately capture the moments that followed between them, between a father and his children.
Max was not blind, and was more observant than people gave him credit for. He had, after all, been in the navy as well, and the fact that he was still alive today meant that he was both lucky and smart.
He could see Georg before Elsa and the children had noticed him. And he noticed how the front of his suit was soaked with water in places. He had seen how distressed Elsa had been when she had seen something out the window that had to do with Georg and the governess, who she had been watching. He also recalled how Elsa had told him that the governess had fallen into the lake…
Getting a foreboding feeling in his stomach – despite the beautiful scene happening before him – Max left the drawing room without anyone noticing once Georg was embracing his children. Of course he was happy for his friend and the family he had come to call his own, but he couldn't really partake in it until he had found out what exactly was going on.
Perhaps the biggest reason for his foreboding feeling was the fact that, some nights over the past six weeks, Georg would indulge in more than just a nightcap with him and reveal some things he never would have said sober. When he'd had a few too many, he would go on and on about "that damn Fraulein" and how she had disobeyed every order he gave her that first day. What disturbed Max the most was how Georg was dreaming about her so often. He must have felt very strongly attracted to her. A postulant could do this to him?
Coming to the rooms that were the childrens', knowing the governess's room would be close, he suddenly became very fearful of what could have just happened. His fears were confirmed when he heard the sounds of frenzied packing and shaking breaths behind a door that was nearly shut.
Peaking in, he saw what could only be the governess. Like Elsa had said, she was young with rather short hair, which was still damp though she wore a grey sack of a dress that was not wet. She had obviously changed. And was breaking down before his eyes. She was packing in a frenzied way, and her hands were shaking. Her face was twisted in an effort not to sob.
Dear God, what has he done?
He tapped on the slightly open door. To say the young woman was surprised would have been an understatement. She gave a huge gasp, almost an exclamation, and shied from the door, eyes wide, crossing her arms. Like a frightened animal in a cage.
Max opened the door a bit more to show who he was and held his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "I didn't mean to startle you, Fraulein, I just wanted to be sure you were all right."
"Who are you?" asked the young woman, not letting her guard down.
"Oh, of course," said Max, shaking himself mentally. "I'm Max Dettweiler."
To his relief, she cocked her head and lowered her arms. "Uncle Max?"
He laughed. "Yes, that's what they call me. And your name?"
"Maria," she said, her distress creeping back into her after a brief moment of respite and she began to pack again. "Forgive me, Herr Dettweiler, for being in this state, but I'm in a hurry."
He watched her pack for a moment, growing more frightened by the second. "Where are you going?"
"Back to the abbey," she said, not stopping. "I can't stay here any longer."
"Why?" he asked.
She was trying very hard to control the tone of her voice. "I just can't, Herr Dettweiler."
"Did he touch you?"
His worst fears were confirmed as she, caught off-guard by his question, paused in her actions, trying to speak but couldn't.
Very scared now, Max took a step closer to her. "Fraulein…Maria, did he?"
Her eyes filled with tears, not looking at him, and gave a brief nod.
"More than that?" he asked. Max could keep his voice calm and controlled when he most needed to, which he was very grateful for, because he was terrified of what he would find out.
She nodded haltingly again.
"Did he . . . try to kiss you?"
Her mouth moved a bit before she said a few trembling words that sounded as if they could be shattered with the slightest waver. "He…grabbed me and k-kissed me, hard…I pushed him away and I fell…" Her hands and body were shaking violently now.
His worst fears and more confirmed, Max closed his eyes in horror, his fists clenched, and began pacing the room. I should have seen this coming, after all he's told me. I never should have left him alone with her for a second, I should have gone right out there when Elsa told me what was going on…
"I'm going to kill him," he muttered furiously to himself.
Maria must have heard it for she now turned to him with a pleading look in her burning eyes. "Herr Dettweiler, please," she said, her voice broken. "I do not know you well, but please just let me leave here, don't tell them until after I've gone. If I see the children, I'll never leave, and I . . . I just can't stay here anymore…" A tear streamed down her face.
Max thought for a moment about his course of action and nodded. "I'll sneak you out and drive you back myself."
"Oh, don't trouble yourself, please –"
"It's no trouble, Fraulein," said Max, firmly. "Quite frankly, I don't feel comfortable with you walking anywhere in your condition. I'll feel much better when you are home. Now come on," he concluded, picking up her carpetbag.
Thankfully, she did not argue but nodded, and she couldn't help but look grateful.
*Song is, of course, from Rodger's and Hammerstein's The Sound of Music - I own nothing.