Amor vincit omnia
Disclaimer: see chapter 1
AN: Sorry for the delay, but both my beta and I've been very busy.
Oh - by talking about my beta: Thank you, Heidi! You're a darling.
Chapter6: Number Ten
Autumn 1939
Driving the old Ford he'd just bought a few days before around the corner of the quiet little street, Georg smiled fondly at Number Ten Oak Street. It was an old but stable house, painted in a cheerful, sunny yellow. It certainly didn't look as impressive as the von Trapp villa in Aigen, but Georg didn't mind. The house was his – and it was his family's home – and he couldn't have been prouder of it even if it were as big and beautiful as the Hellbrunn castle in Salzburg.
Only six weeks before the family – after having spent every free minute during the summer renovating the house – had moved in. Ever since then Georg loved coming home. He hadn't thought it possible that they would be able to get a house of their own after barely one and a half years in America. It definitely helped to have rich friends.
It had been a beautiful day in May when Tipper Burrows had married her Timothy and became Mrs. Timothy Tarlton. And much to Georg's surprise the entire von Trapp family had received an invitation to the wedding and to the great and glorious party afterwards which had been celebrated in the gardens of the famous Burrows mansion.
In the middle of the reception Tipper's father James Burrow, a sturdy man with a bald head and sharp, brown eyes, had approached Georg and invited him into his study "for a whisky and a word." There he'd scrutinized Georg and then grumbled: "So you're the guy my girl was crying about so much. I must admit you don't look at all like I'd imagined you."
Georg, feeling rather amused by the outspoken American, had only raised an eyebrow and sipped at his bourbon – "the real stuff, not one of those watery cocktails they serve out there".
"I thought you were an airy-fairy gigolo. But I was told even your title's real – and you're the former son-in-law of the Whitehead shipyard. How come you're penniless?"
Georg had leaned back and stretched his long legs. If the rich James Burrows thought he could intimidate him, he would soon learn otherwise. "My money is still in Austria – the Nazis have frozen all my bank accounts", he'd answered casually.
"You should have transferred it to Switzerland like any sensible man!" Burrows had looked at him almost accusingly.
"I was insensible enough to love my country," Georg had answered lightly. "The Nazis tried drying up Austria financially as a first course of attack. I didn't want to help them by removing my money from Austria along with so many others. And when I learned that the Nazis couldn't be stopped I became more interested in saving my family than my fortune."
"Speaking of your family," Burrows lit a big cigar and puffed the smoke in the air, "I've met your wife a few times in the stables. She's a fine girl."
Georg sipped at his whisky. He still liked malts better, but for a bourbon this wasn't bad. "I happen to agree, Mr Burrows," he said with a little smile.
"A woman like her shouldn't live in a lousy, cramped flat over a cheese shop, you know? She deserves better."
"I entirely agree with you, Mr Burrows," Georg nodded. "Only I can't help it at the moment."
"You must help it, Captain von Trapp!"
For a moment Georg was amazed. The man in front of him, who now sat down at his desk, had obviously done thorough research.
"There's a house in Sunnyside, not too far away from Central Park. I own it. The current tenants are moving out in the summer. It's old, it will need some work, but it's spacious and has a nice backyard that children can play in. You should buy it, Captain."
"I'd very much like to, Mr Burrows, but I'm afraid I can't afford it," Georg answered. He'd gotten used to being poor and didn't feel any shame about it.
"You're a hard-working man and your business is doing well. You can afford a mortgage," the man behind the desk said.
"Do you know a bank that would lend me money?" Georg shook his head. "I'm a refugee with a big family and just around 300 dollars – for the exact number I would need to ask my wife – in my bank account. We'll need that money for our oldest daughter's college tuition. "
"I like your honesty, Captain." James Burrows reached for a sheet of paper, wrote something down and folded the paper. "Fortunately I own a bank as well. Here's the address and phone number of the manager. I'll talk with him tomorrow and then you'll call him for an appointment. He'll make you a deal for the house that you can afford."
Georg certainly wasn't happy about being ordered around like that, but he'd learned to swallow his pride. Taking the paper, he put it in his breast pocket and stood up. "Thank you, Mr Burrows. You're very kind."
"You know, Captain von Trapp," James Burrows looked up at him, once more puffing big smoke clouds in the air, "there are a lot of chaps out there who'd have jumped on my daughter quicker than I could have said 'off'. She's my only child and my heiress and certainly a big catch."
"I don't think your money is the main reason that a man would like Tipper," Georg smiled. "Except for her rather silly infatuation with me she's a clever and nice young woman. She's certainly loveable for her self – her beautiful self – and not only because she's your heiress."
"Well, with my now son-in-law I believe that's the case. Timothy's got enough money himself," James Burrow had nodded. "However, without your decency my girl probably wouldn't have come to her senses about him. Therefore I owe you, Captain – and I'm a man who always pays his debts."
He'd certainly done so, selling Georg the house for a very reasonable price.
Now, having almost arrived at it, Georg noticed a rather shabby looking red sports car in the drive way. Parking his Ford on the street in front of the house, he climbed out, suppressing a groan. His back was hurting once again – the stable was entirely full at the moment and he had taught seven pupils and ridden eight horses as well. Now he was starving – once again he'd only had time to eat a sandwich between two lessons – and exhausted, wishing only for a long, comfortable soak in a hot bath tub and dinner with his family.
The strange car in the drive way probably meant that Liesl had another new admirer. Georg scowled. As proud as he was of his lovely daughter and as much as he could understand a young man falling for her, he couldn't help but feel irritated by the lot of boys who infested his house, hung around Liesl, watched her with puppy eyes and became twitchy every time he addressed one of them. Heavens, what did they think? That he would let one of them go out with his daughter without telling him before that he didn't only expect to get Liesl back at ten o'clock straight, but he also expected her to be treated like she deserved? And if one of those whelps believed he couldn't hear a car approaching in the night, he was wrong! Georg von Trapp certainly didn't intend to give one of these boys the chance to neck with his daughter in front of the house! At ten o'clock sharp he'd stand on the porch, waiting and watching. And no, charming Maria wouldn't help the whelp in question either. Georg had become pretty good at ignoring her usual sigh and the "Georg, shouldn't you trust your daughter a bit more?" He also always ignored Liesl's reminders that her mother had been only one year older than her when she'd married. Actually, the memory how he'd used every chance to kiss Agathe, even before they were officially engaged, were one of the reasons why he watched Liesl's boys so closely.
Straightening his tie, Georg walked up the four stairs leading to the front door of the house. He would have a look at Liesl's newest admirer before his bath – and he only hoped that this one was already man enough not to start stammering as soon as Georg came through the door!
Pulling his boats off on the porch, Georg listened to the voices in the house. His family obviously were in the living room – and they were talking in German. Maria was laughing now and then he heard a deep voice – a very familiar voice! Without getting his slippers, Georg stormed into the house, almost stumbling in the living room.
"Max? What the heck are you doing here?"
Max Detweiler sat on the sofa as if he'd been born there, grinning broadly. "Nice way to greet your best friend, Georg!"
"Best friend? Are you talking about yourself, Max? What's the world come to?" Georg felt almost like crying – he'd missed Max more then he'd have admitted, even to himself.
Max stood up and approached him. For a moment the both men stood in front of each other, not sure how to express their feelings. But then Georg opened his arms and pulled Max in an embrace.
"You didn't really think you'd gotten rid of me for good, did you?" Max laughed.
"Well, I would have hoped so, but I'm not that much of an optimist!" Georg gave Max a playful push. "It seems I've developed a masochistic tendency. I really missed you, Max."
"I knew you'd be unhappy without me." Max stepped back, still holding on to Georg's shoulders. Scrutinizing him, he said: "Actually I'm not sure if this redistribution of weight Maria and you have obviously done is a good idea. Your figure has turned into a dog's kennel –a bone in every corner!"
Maria who'd been sitting in her favourite chair had also gotten up to and was now wrapping her arm around Georg's waist. "I'm really trying to fatten him up, but he isn't cooperating as much as he should." She kissed Georg's cheek. "Did you eat a proper lunch today? You know, lunch – actually sitting down and eating something more than a soaked sandwich?"
"Well …" Georg looked awkward and tried the old diversion tactic. Stroking Maria's very round belly, he asked: "How are the both of you today?"
Maria laid her hand over his. "Number Ten was practising summersaults again while its mother worried about its father not eating a proper lunch."
"Number Ten?" Max shook his head. "What have you done, Georg? Produced triplets now? Or are there any new family members you haven't told me about yet, Maria?"
Maria laughed out loud. "Don't worry, Max – according to my doctor it's only one baby."
"And as far as I know, Liesl's admirers don't count as family members yet," Georg grinned. "Nevertheless: Barbara is number ten – the eight child in the family and the tenth member."
"Barbara?" Max asked.
"Maria believes that the little one is a girl," Georg explained.
"And Georg would like to have a Barbara – you know, Saint Barbara is the patron saint of sailors," Maria proceeded. "Actually," she said then, looking thoughtfully at Max and squeezing Georg's hand, "I believe Barbara just has become number eleven."
Georg felt like hugging and kissing her – but he didn't like to display affection in front of other people, even if they were his best friends. So he restrained himself to stroking the inside of Maria's wrist with his thumb – this woman who understood his feelings about his friend so well would understand this gesture too. "You're right, Maria," he said then with a smile. "Barbara's going to become number eleven."
"Uhm – could someone please explain to me what you're talking about?" Max demanded.
"Maria will while I shower and change!" Georg clasped his friend's shoulder once more and went to the door.
As he started up the stairs, he heard Maria's voice: "Think of our concert in Salzburg. There were ten people on the stage – and all of them were members of the Trapp family."
"I counted only nine!" Max still didn't understand.
Georg couldn't help it. Laughing he bent over the banister and exclaimed: "Since when have you become so modest you don't count yourself anymore, 'Uncle Max'?" Still chuckling, he ran up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with Maria where he undressed, got himself fresh underwear, a clean shirt and flannel trousers before he walked over to the bathroom. It was Maria's and his own bathroom, directly connected to their bedroom and therefore mostly safe from the children. Putting his clothes on a stool, he looked in the mirror and for once was rather pleased with the face he saw there. It had become thinner since they'd left Austria, but he'd also acquired a deep tan which added to his appeal. Just the other day he'd heard one of his female pupils say that the tan would make his eyes look even more blue and bright, but Georg knew better. The light in his eyes came from bliss and pure, unadulterated happiness. He had the most wonderful, lovely wife in the world and she was bearing their child!
Lathering his face with lavender scented razor soap he remembered a night back in February. Maria and Liesl had once again had voice lessons and therefore he'd already been in bed when they came back home. Admittedly he hadn't been asleep yet but was reading a book which he'd immediately put down as Maria had entered the bedroom. Normally after a voice lesson she was full of enthusiasm and excitement, telling him all about it and often even singing a little.
Not so on this night. Sitting down on the side of the bed, she took his hand in both of hers and studied it as if she was seeing it for the first time. Pulling it up to her mouth, she kissed the tip of very finger and then his palm before she bent down over him, her lips searching for his.
What started as a sweet, gentle kiss soon became heated and passionate and then her voice was in his ear: "Make love to me, Georg. I need you. I couldn't think of anything else other than your hands on my breasts and your mouth on my skin. All evening I only dreamed of coming home and feeling you close to me."
He knew then. For days he'd suspected it and had watched her closely, but now he was sure and his heart was filled with joy and love for the extraordinary woman in his arms.
He made love to her, with all the tenderness he could muster and although he'd been prepared for her to react even more passionately than she normally did, he was surprised at how quickly she almost exploded and how he needed to silence her with a kiss because she'd obviously forgotten about the children sleeping in the next room.
Afterwards she wrapped herself around him as she always loved to do, her head on his shoulder, one hand on his chest and one leg over his. Sighing contently she said: "Now everything is fine. You know, Georg, I really needed you tonight."
"And last night and the night before," he reminded her with a chuckle and a kiss on her forehead.
She raised her head, looking a bit insecure. "Am I demanding too much, Georg? I know you're working very hard …"
Stroking her back he assured her: "You certainly don't demand too much. Show me the man who wouldn't enjoy being desired by such a lovely and passionate woman as you – he's certainly not me."
With another sigh Maria snuggled her head back on her favourite place on his shoulder. "I think it's you, Georg, who makes me become so … needy," she whispered and blushed. "You know, even in the parish women sometimes talk about their men. There's this one who's very noisy and loud. She once pitied me for needing to deal with a man who – and I quote her – 'obviously can't get enough'."
"Oho – and how does she know that?" Georg asked.
"You're a father of seven," Maria replied. "And the noisy one, as well as her friends, is convinced that the 'marital duty' is something men enjoy and women have to bear. I actually believe it's their husbands' fault that they feel so. They obviously neither know nor bother about how they could make their wives enjoy it. Yet you do. You always care about my pleasure."
Georg smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "It's pure, sheer selfishness, my darling," he told her. "For one it makes you approach me now and then rather than me always needing to seduce you. Second," he wrinkled his forehead, "I don't think I could sleep with a woman who doesn't really want to. It would feel like rape."
"Georg?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you!" Maria kissed him once again and then laid her head back on his shoulder.
For a few blissful seconds Georg simply held her, inhaling the fine smell of her hair and the warmth of her body. Trying to sound casual, he then asked: "Shall I get you some pickles or ice cream?"
"Why would I want pickles or ice cream in the middle of a night?" For a moment Maria looked at him as if she doubted his sanity. Then it dawned on her. "You think I'm …?" She didn't finish the sentence, but clapped her hand over her mouth.
Georg smiled at her. "Yes, Maria, I believe you're with child."
"But how would you know?" She was sitting in the bed now, staring at him as if she'd never seen him before.
"Darling, when did you have your last period?"
"Oh …" She wrinkled her forehead. "Two weeks before Christmas, I believe – but you know, it's never very regular."
Georg pulled her back in his arms, with one hand tenderly cupping her breast. "Think about this, my love: Just this morning you complained about gaining weight as you were buttoning your blouse." Turning her around on her back, he kissed the tip of her left breast which made her promptly moan quietly. Georg smiled. "You haven't gained weight. Your breasts are growing and," he kissed the right one, "becoming very sensitive."
"And that's a sign?" Maria asked, her hand on her belly.
"It's one, but not the only one," Georg explained. "Another one is your appetite."
Maria shook her head. "But I really don't want pickles or ice cream! And the banana I had for breakfast – it looked so tempting! You know, I've always been fond of bananas."
"But not for breakfast!" Georg, bracing his head on his right hand, covered her hand on her belly with his left. "Besides I wasn't talking about your appetite in matters of food …"
"Oh!" She was blushing. "I wouldn't have thought of that as a symptom of pregnancy."
"Why not?" Georg stroked her abdomen. "The thought of you carrying our child makes me want to be as close to you as possible. In your case you have to add certain changes in your body: More blood is going to your pelvic region, your breasts growing and becoming more sensitive, your entire body is changing …"
"Actually I like this symptom!" Maria giggled. "It's better than morning sickness, isn't it?"
"Unfortunately, as far as morning sickness is concerned, you are not out of the woods yet," Georg told her. "It's possible that you will develop all the usual symptoms from morning sickness to odd cravings to sudden mood swings in the next few weeks."
For a moment Maria scrutinized his face very seriously. Then she started to smile again. "It's useful to have such an experienced father at one's side," she said.
"You are still going to need to see a doctor, darling. I'm afraid I can't save you from that." Georg knew how much Maria disliked doctors but in this case he would insist.
The protest came quickly: "But why, Georg? Being pregnant isn't a kind of sickness!"
"It's nevertheless a condition where a doctor's advice is necessary!" Georg immediately replied. "I want you and the baby in the best of health. Therefore we'll make an appointment with the doctor tomorrow."
"Oh, dear!" Maria sighed. "Will you at least come with me?"
"Of course. It's my baby too, isn't it?" Georg bent down and kissed her. "And now, Baroness von Trapp, you should try to get some sleep. Pregnant women need a lot of rest."
"Yes, Captain, sir!" Maria wrapped her arms around his neck. "But I'll still get a goodnight kiss, won't I?"
"Of course." Georg hugged and kissed her tenderly. "I love you, Maria," he said.
"And I love you, Georg!"
Georg couldn't remember ever having felt so loved and happy in his life. He'd always been delighted to become a father again, but in this case the baby meant even more to him than ever before. It was new hope, the proof that Maria and he'd made it through their difficult journey, that they'd really and finally arrived in their new life and that their love had become stronger as a result of fighting side by side.
He obviously wasn't the only one who felt that way. After their visit to the doctor's office – who'd of course confirmed the pregnancy and had been pleased that mother and child were very healthy – Georg had invited Maria to a little tea shop where she asked him when they would tell the children.
Georg had grinned. "I'm afraid they won't be pleased."
"Really?" Maria looked anxious. "Don't you think they'd like having another sibling?"
"Oh, I think they will like that. It's only that we didn't ask for their permission for it," Georg had chuckled. "We once asked them for permission to marry, so they probably would have expected us to ask about an addition to the family as well."
However, the children had forgiven them for their arbitrary act. The reactions had gone from "It's high time to have another boy in this family" (Kurt) to "I'm so happy!" (Liesl) and "It will be fun to play with a baby" (Louisa) to Marta's generous offer to share her bed (and her pink parasol) with the new family member while Brigitta had immediately suggested that she buy a book about babies and study it. Only Gretl had been a bit worried about their parents not having time to play with her anymore when the baby was there. Yet they'd easily managed to comfort her and Georg had even promised her that she would still always get to sit on her favourite place – his or Maria's lap – in the evening. "You know, Gretl," he'd said, "even you can only sit on one lap at a time. And the same goes for the baby. Besides, babies sleep a lot. While it's asleep you will have us all to yourself!"
But the best comfort for Gretl had come from Liesl: "Just think about it: When the baby is here, you won't be the youngest one anymore, but a big sister too!"
"Georg? May I come in?" Maria had knocked at the bathroom door.
Georg, still busy with shaving, opened it. "Of course – if you don't mind talking to a naked man."
Maria entered and playfully slapped his backside. "Considered this naked man is my husband and is so nice to look at – no, I certainly don't mind." She took his clothes off the stool and sat down at it. "Admittedly – as cute your butt is, I've actually come to talk to the head of the family."
"Oh, that sounds serious." Georg turned around. "I probably shouldn't have a razor on my throat then?"
"I don't think it's that bad." Maria smiled at him. "I only wanted to talk about getting some work done over the weekend."
"Such as?" Georg asked.
"Clearing out the room in the attic and cleaning it up. Painting its walls and getting some furniture for it. You know, there's another auction at Sarrybucks tomorrow– I'm sure I can get a bed, a desk, a chair and a wardrobe there for a reasonable price. Mr. Greyson from number five would probably lend us his truck once again …"
Georg had an idea of what Maria had in mind – he'd already thought about it himself but had discarded it because it would mean even more work for Maria. So, smiling at her, he interrupted: "Darling, I'd like to have Max here as well, but don't you think it would be too much for you?"
"No, on the contrary!" Maria immediately replied. "Max loves to cook – and he's better at it than me, though that doesn't mean much. Besides he's wonderful with the children. It would really be a relief to have him here when we have little Barbara."
"Then it's settled." Georg started to shave again.
"I'm going to tell him." Maria stood up. "He's living in a little hotel in the moment and I don't think he likes it there very much. Oh and by the way: He's already gotten work. He's a talent scout of a record company."
"As long as he doesn't want my children to make records," Georg washed the soap from his face, "it's fine with me. I'm glad he's with us again."
"Georg?" Maria hugged him from behind, kissing him between his shoulder blades. "One would almost think you're fond of Max!" she teased him.
"Huh – next thing you'll believe I like you, Fräulein!" he grinned at her through the mirror.
"Oh, Captain, where would I get such an idea? I know that you're only putting up with me because you're an even worse cook than me!"
"Oho – you've seen right through me!" He turned around and kissed her. "Considering how well you know me, I can only beg you not to tell Max that I'm fond of him. He's already vain enough, isn't he?"
It was good to have Max back with the family, Maria thought – and not only because he once again proved himself to be a master of organization. He'd already told them, at their first dinner together, that he'd – at least for the time being –given up being a sponge. "I'm still very charming, but during such dire times being a sponge isn't much fun anymore. Therefore, I've decided to earn some money myself." The next day he'd approached Maria, telling her that he intended to pay rent, but "not in the form of money and certainly not to Georg. He would never take it. Instead I'll pay for a maid."
On the third day of his stay, just as Maria had started the laundry – a task which had become rather hard for her with her big belly – a big, tall, black woman had knocked at the door, introduced herself as "Susan, your new maid", explained that Mr. Detweiler had sent her, and had immediately taken over the basket of dirty clothes. "You shouldn't work so hard in your condition," she told Maria. "Just sit down and rest while I do that."
Since then Susan had taken over the laundry and cleaning, the shopping and cooking. Her first meal of "Southern fried chicken" had been a big success with Georg and the children and her chocolate cake had Georg take a third helping. Afterwards, he hung in his chair like a wet sock.
And there was something else about Susan that Maria enjoyed a lot: The older woman sang all the time. She had a deep, smoky alto and Maria learned to sing gospel music with her while she taught Susan to sing her songs. The two of them sang so well together that Max had already said he'd like them to give a concert together – an idea which had Georg protesting immediately. But even then his eyes had smiled – and that was why Maria was so happy about Max Detweiler's arrival in America. It was so good to see Georg with his friend. For her and the children it hadn't been a problem to find friends in their new home. For Georg it had been a lot more challenging.
The children had found friends at school and in some ways it had been even easier for them than in former times. In Aigen they'd always been the von Trapp children who lived in the big villa and the other children had often felt intimidated by the wealth and the fame of the von Trapps.
In America no one knew anything about the heroics of a certain Georg von Trapp. His children were simply children among others. During the first days in their new schools their schoolmates had perhaps been slightly put off by their posh English, their odd clothes and their funny names. By now, however, the children had learned American English and were wearing American clothes. Maria had insisted on it though Georg had cringed seeing his children like that – and their names had, at least in school and among their friends, become Americanized as well. Liesl was "Liz" around her friends, Friedrich had become "Fred", Marta had acquired a "h" and was called "Martha" fand Gretl had lost her "l" at the end and was simply "Gret". Only Louisa was still "Louisa" – her name was common in America too.
As far as Maria was concerned, friends hadn't been trouble for her either. Quite the opposite! During her engagement and her time in Paris she'd worried about her ability to play the role of the Baroness Trapp among the elegant people of her husband's acquaintance.
Now she didn't need to be anxious about that anymore. The women she met in church or through doing her work as a seamstress were just like her: Hard-working housewives, who looked after their men and children, enjoyed the little things life offered them and didn't worry about society and fashion. To them she wasn't Baroness von Trapp, but Maria – and when they noticed that some things in the von Trapp household were different from how they did things – such as the family changing for dinner and that Georg wore a tie even at home –they found it "funny" or even "cute". Over all they thought that Maria's husband was perhaps a bit stuffy, but he neither drank nor cursed, worked hard and always brought all his money home. And his manners – they certainly wouldn't have minded their own husbands having some of them.
So for Maria and the children adapting to their new lives hadn't been too difficult. Maria only worried sometimes about Georg. Making friends had never been easy for him - even in Salzburg he'd had a lot of acquaintances but very few true friends. In America Alois had been the only one, and though Georg had always assured Maria that he didn't need anyone other for her and the children, she'd could still tell that he'd felt rather lonely. He missed his homeland dreadfully, he didn't like living in a big city and for months he'd bottled up those feelings because he hadn't wanted to burden Maria with them. But now that Max was there, Georg's oldest and best friend, Georg had started to relax.
Of course, what Max had to say about Austria had been bad. During their second night, after the children had gone in bed, Georg had finally asked why Max had left Europe too.
"I thought you're the one who gave up all political convictions after the war to end all wars?" Georg had sounded almost bitter. Max's "keep your head down and your mouth shut and all will be well" attitude had always been the one point where hadn't agreed with his friend.
For a moment Max had looked almost awkward. Then he'd sighed. "I'm afraid I must have spent too much time with you, Georg. I can't stand riffraff anymore – not the kind who's ruling in Austria now."
"Did they bother you after our escape?" Maria had asked.
Max shook his head. "No, but soon I started to wish they would bother me. Yet Zeller obviously came to the conclusion that I hadn't gone with you because I didn't agree with you and therefore I'd be a candidate for joining his little club of the brainless. He wanted me there because I was representing a few musicians his Führer is very interested in – like Lotte Liesman, the singer and Arthur Derweg, the conductor. Hitler wanted them for Bayreuth and so I was invited there to have dinner with Winifred Wagner and her friend Wolf."
"Wolf?" Georg had asked.
"Hitler – Winifred Wagner, the daughter-in-law of Richard Wagner, and Germany's oh-so-brilliant leader are pretty familiar," Max had explained, his face showing disgust. "It was bizarre, I can tell you. Bayreuth covered with their ugly flags, Hitler surrounded by his cronies – each one of them more vulgar than the other. And he, the big man himself, looks as though he hasn't washed his hair in a month. He sounds like an old door in need of oil and talks about music although he has no clue about it. And among this crowd, clothed like a dandy, was the 'master's son', Siegfried Wagner, flamboyant and reminding me of a spoiled child. He complained all through dinner about his work not being appreciated enough because of a Jewish conspiracy. The idea that his operas are not nearly as good as his father's obviously never crossed his little mind. To think that this man isn't only the son of Richard Wagner who was – despite his rather difficult personality – a real genius, but the grandson of Franz Liszt too!" He'd sipped at his wine and shuddered.
"Sounds like a really delightful dinner!" Georg had commented dryly.
"Compared to what came later, the dinner was a delight!" Max had replied. "I was honoured with an invitation to stay. The fireplace was lit – though it was summer and boiling hot. And for the next four hours – and you don't know how long four hours can be when you must listen to stupidity – Herr Hitler was talking about his ideas for Bayreuth with Siegfried and Winifred Wagner, praising his genius while poor Madam Liesman and I didn't know if we should laugh or cry. One thing I'm sure of: If Maria and the children had done 'Meistersinger' as a puppet show, the performance would have been artistically more interesting and tenfold as original than every idea Germany's great Führer uttered during that night." (1)
To an outsider Max' complaints probably would have sounded bizarre, but Maria had understood him. Georg had once told her that Max hadn't started his career as an impresario. As a young man he'd been a piano player – and even a very talented one who was expected to make a great career.
But at that time Max Detweiler had been an idealistic and enthusiastic Austrian patriot as well and so, as the war had started, he'd said "farewell" to his piano and had become a naval officer. That was how Georg and Max had met and, being both musicians, they'd become close friends.
Then a few days before the end of the war Max had gotten injured. He'd broken his right hand a few times and since then two of his fingers didn't work properly anymore. His career as a piano player had ended before it had really started. Besides he'd lost his belief and hope in his homeland. Like so many men of his generation – Georg was another one among them – he'd felt betrayed by what he'd fought and suffered for. Yet in contrast to Georg, who'd become even more protective of his country, Max had, from then on, only fought for himself.
However, in his heart he was still a musician – and as such he couldn't stand how Hitler and his men tried to use everything - even music - to achieve their goals.
Yet even that night in Bayreuth hadn't been reason Max had left Austria. Later the same evening he'd told a shocked Maria and a furious Georg about how the Nazis treaded the Jews. "They made old Abraham Rosenstock – you remember him, don't you Georg? The green grocer at Salzburg? – sweep the street in his bare feet. I couldn't help it, I simply couldn't! I told one of the Nazis how disgusted I was and promptly found myself 'invited' to see Zeller for a little talk. He told me that it was only because of our 'old friendship' that he'd let me get away with that – and that was it. I went home, packed a few things and drove to the border. There I left the car and a letter to our friend Zeller, and following your trail, I went over the mountains to Genoa and from there I took a ship here. Luckily I've got a few connections here, so the visa and the money wasn't much of a problem."
"You wrote a letter to Zeller?" Maria had asked.
Max had grinned. "I couldn't resist. I told that I would miss hiking with you too much and advised him to try it too. A good, long hike and some fresh air would probably make it easier for him overcome his disappointment over your house."
"What about our house?" Georg had wanted to know.
"Oh my," Max had sighed. "You knew that the Nazis would take it, didn't you? Actually Zeller wanted it for himself – he thought as the Gauleiter he'd deserve something that represented his status. But Herr Himmler didn't think so. He got your house for himself, for the times he's at the festival in Salzburg and for his holidays."
"No!" Maria had reached for Georg's hand, knowing how much the thought of Hitler's vilest henchman in his beloved home would bother him.
"Well," Georg's voice had dripped with sarcasm, "Himmler certainly won't play with Marta's famous pink parasol. Instead he'll probably use my books to light the fireplace when his Führer comes to visit. Considering how many Jewish authors I collected …"
"Franz is still there," Max had told. "Someone told me he had taken some of your personal things out of the house. Elsa and I even thought it was him who sent her the anonymous package."
"Anonymous package?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you already? Around two months after your escape Elsa got a little package with a stamp from Salzburg. It contained only two items: Your Maria-Theresien cross and the old Austrian flag from your submarine which used to hang in your study. Elsa has taken the flag and cross to Switzerland to her bank safe – they're waiting there until you come back. We thought it was Franz who sent them – who else could it have been? Frau Schmidt left the day after your departure, so he was the only one who could have gotten the flag and the cross."
"A sentimental Nazi!" Georg had shaken his head. "As if I'd bother about a piece of tin and an old flag when the world is falling apart."
"I'm actually happy that the cross isn't lost," Max had stated. "Your children will probably want it one day."
Georg had lifted an eyebrow. "What for? To put it on my coffin? Max, the cross and the flag belong to another world. We're living here and now – and I've learned something from my wife: To live forward and not backward."
Actually, Maria thought, Georg hadn't learned it from her. He'd learned it by waiting for their child to be born. The baby was his symbol for their new life and since it would become the first American von Trapp, Georg had finally accepted their new country too.
Oops – what was this? Just the day before Maria had felt an urgent need to go through the baby's belongings once again and now she was sitting on her bedside, folding diapers when she suddenly felt a cramp in her abdomen. Putting her hand over it, she breathed deeply. Could it be possible that Barbara had decided to make her appearance into the world one week early?
Another deep breath and Maria concentrated on her belly. There it was again – a sharp pain which made her moan and gasp. It was clear: Barbara was on her way.
Maria stood up and put the clothes she'd just folded back in the closet, lovingly stroking one of the rompers. They would be needed soon and she almost couldn't wait any longer. How long would it take to give birth to her little one? The women in the church hadn't been very helpful in this account when she'd asked them. One had whined about suffering for days while another one had almost boasted about having her three children in only a few hours each. And even Georg, as father of seven and therefore an authority in matters of child birth, had been rather vague: "One never knows with the first one. However, Agathe told me every time that she would immediately forget all about the pain when holding a healthy baby."
Another bolt of pain cut through Maria. She needed to sit down on the bed again and started to think about what to do now. The women in the church had been shocked when she'd told them she intended to heave her baby at home, surrounded by her family. "But one doesn't have a baby at home! It's not done! You must go into a hospital!" they'd said.
Maria had told them that in Austria all women had their babies at home and that she certainly wouldn't like to welcome her little one in a sterile hospital, surrounded by strangers.
However, no one had known a midwife who would be willing to come to her home and finding a doctor willing to help her through the birth in her own bedroom had been rather difficult too. In the end it had been Alois who'd helped out once again. A German friend of his knew an older, female doctor who'd fled from Germany because she was Jewish. She now had a small office not far away from the von Trapp's place.
Once again Maria stood up. Waddling to the door, she intended to go down, to call the doctor and then Georg. She wanted him to be home when the child was born.
As she was on the stairs she was hit by another bolt of pain. Bracing herself against the wall she moaned and finally called for Susan who ran out of the kitchen, her hands covered with dough. She immediately recognized what was happening. Cleaning her hands on her apron, she came up the stairs and took Maria's arm. "I think we'll get you in bed, Maria. Then I'll call the doctor and your husband."
"I don't think I need to go to bed yet. It's only just started," Maria stated. "I've heard that with the first child it can take a while."
"One never knows," Susan repeated Georg's words and helped Maria up the stairs. "It only took me three hours to deliver my son – and in any case you'll feel better when prepared properly." They were entering the bedroom now and Susan helped Maria to lie down. "First let's get you undressed – I'll get you a comfortable nighty and then you can put your dressing gown over it when you feel like walking around. Then we'll prepare your …" She didn't get to finish her line because the phone in the kitchen was ringing. "I'll get it!" She started down the stairs.
A minute later, Maria was just slipping in her dressing gown, Susan was back again and grinned. "It seems your husband has developed a sixth sense. He wanted to know how you were doing and wasn't in the slightest surprised when I told him you're in labour. He's on his way home and knowing him, I'd say he'll break every speed limit."
"I hope he doesn't!" Maria shuddered by the thought of it. "Georg always drives too fast."
"As far as I know, his driving once saved your necks, didn't it?" Susan replied dryly while changing the sheets. Putting a thick towel on the bed, she smiled at Maria. "How do you feel?"
"Odd", Maria replied. "You know, between the pain I feel totally normal. It's hard to believe that I'm really going to give birth now." She laid her hand against her belly. "Barbara's so quiet. Do you think that's normal? Shouldn't she move more in this state?"
"How could she? She's a big girl and it's rather tight in there. Therefore," Susan chuckled, "she probably wants out as soon as possible."
"I only hope she's healthy," Maria said. "In the last weeks as we were renovating the house and moving in, my husband always scolded me for working too much. But I didn't listen to him. I wanted our home to be perfect when the baby arrives. I do hope I didn't hurt her. I would never forgive myself …"
"Maria!" Susan emphatically interrupted her. "What did the doctor say as she checked on you last time?"
"Yes, I know. She told us we were both okay." Maria walked to her nightstand and pulled her rosary out. "Nevertheless I'd like to pray."
"A prayer can never hurt." Susan had shaken the pillows in shape and was now looking at Maria "Do you think I can leave you for a few minutes? I'll only be down in the kitchen, getting the bread in the oven and the doctor on phone. If you need me, just call – I'll be up in a second!"
Half an hour later Georg had come and now, around midnight, he sat on the bed, braced against the headboard and holding Maria who felt as if she'd run a marathon. She was bathed in sweat, her hair clung to her forehead and her entire body ached. She didn't know if she could stand any more of the pain which seemed to throw her body in little pieces; she didn't know how late it was and how long she'd already suffered, but there was Georg, watching over her, encouraging and comforting her and there was music from the living room. Max had collected the children and Alois who'd come with Georg and they'd sung all night with Friedrich accompanying them at the piano. Now they were doing Bach – the cantata "Eine feste Burg ist unser Gott" (2). The ancient words and the beautiful music comforted Maria and even the grumpy old doctor who first hadn't been too happy about the entire family "hanging around" was now smiling and admitted that Bach was a great way to welcome a new member into a family of musicians.
Another wave of pain hit Maria and she couldn't help but moan.
"We're almost there!" The doctor sounded rather pleased. "With the next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can."
Maria tried to breathe deeply, the next labour pain had already hit and she felt lost and struggling and why was Georg yelling at her?
"Push, Maria, push!"
It was easy to say for him, wasn't it? He'd had seven children without needing to through so much pain!
"Push, Maria, push!"
"What do you think I'm doing here?" she cried. "It certainly doesn't feel like knitting!"
More struggling, more pushing, even more pain and then suddenly a tiny wail and the doctor's deep, pleased voice: "Now, now – who have we here?"
"Maria!" Georg bent down and kissed her and she felt something wet and salty on her mouth. "You've done it!"
The little wail became a loud cry and the music in the living room stopped, but only for a moment. Then Maria heard Liesl's clear soprano, sounding rich and full as a bell: "Nun danket alle Gott!" (3). Friedrich's tenor joined and now the entire family was singing while Maria looked at the tiny bundle in the doctor's arms.
"Is she healthy?" she asked.
"It's a big, beautiful, healthy baby," the doctor confirmed, wrapping a soft blanket around it and laying the infant carefully in Maria's arm. "Only I'm afraid it isn't a Barbara."
Maria hadn't heard the last line. She looked down at her baby. It had dark hairs and now it opened its eyes and they were as deep blue as Georg's. "She looks like you, Georg!" Maria said.
"Well, that's not too bad for a boy." He reached for a tiny finger which promptly closed around his. "Welcome to our family, son. Your brothers will be delighted to have another man in the house."
"A son!" Maria marvelled at the beauty of her newborn. "Only we don't have a name for a boy, do we, Georg?"
"I think we've got one." Looking her eyes, he proceeded: "What about 'Johannes Sebastian'? Johannes means 'God is full of mercy' – and he is, isn't he?"
To be continued
(1) Of course, Max Detweiler is a fictional character, so this dinner and the talk at the fire place never happened. But the facts – Hitler being a friend of Winifred and Siegfried Wagner, him becoming called "Wolf" in the Wagner family, Siegfried always whining about the Jewish conspiracy against his work and Hitler talking for hours about his ideas for Wagner operas – he really believed himself a great artist – at the fireplace in the home of the Wagners – are history.
(2) "Eine feste Burg ist unter Gott" A firm castle is our God, BWV 80
(3) "Nun danket alle Gott" Now let's say thank to God, BWV 192