Georg couldn't deny that the fresh air sweeping over his head as he drove felt very good. Max had been right: he'd needed to get out of the house. He found himself almost wishing he had gone with Max the previous night to the Bristol Hotel, especially since someone had been playing piano. That was all Max had told him before he'd left, and he hadn't seen him since then. Well, he could certainly look forward to Max telling wonderful stories of a night out, all the while not-so-subtly implying that Georg should have been with him.

He rolled his eyes at the thought; there was nothing that Max could tell Georg that would convince him he should have been in a crowded hotel common area as opposed to the sanctuary of his study.

The sight of his destination made the smallest of smiles cross his face, even though he'd never been to this music shop before. It was small, just in the center of town, but it had been in Salzburg for as long as music was put on paper, it seemed, so Georg was sure he would find what he was looking for. Though he'd been playing the piano since his childhood, the four years away from the instrument had made their mark in his memory. It not only appalled him that he had forgotten so much Mendellshon, but what he had done with the music. On a particularly horrible night of remembrance nearly four years ago, in a drunken stupor, he'd thrown some of his sheet music into the fireplace and sent up the blazes. Like he'd vowed nearly a week ago, never again would he turn to alcohol to deal: it just made him do and say stupid things.

Walking into the music shop, a small bell above tinkled and the smell of aging parchment met his nose. It was lovely and refreshing. After inquiring from the shopkeeper where the piano sheet music was located, he proceeded to walk straight there. It was located right next to the guitars.

Another man was already browsing through the folios. He looked young, in his early twenties at most; his long pale fingers gracefully flipped each page back as he searched. Georg, too, commenced his search, but had no luck. There wasn't much of an organizational system, which was a little frustrating. Seeing that the shopkeeper was engaged with another customer at the moment, he turned to the young man beside him.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen anything by Mendellsohn, would you?" asked Georg politely.

The young man looked towards him in surprise, but immediately a pleasant polite expression came to his face. "Yes, you'd want to look further up this column. Werner, who owns the shop, prefers to sort the music by era as opposed to name."

"Oh," said Georg, and immediately looked where the young man was pointing. Sure enough, there was all of the Mendellsohn he could want. "That's a . . . new way to sort music, I suppose."

The young man shook his head. "I've always told Werner he should sort by name, so many customers get confused. But he's set in his ways, so I'm sorry about that."

"You have no need to apologize for him, you've been very helpful," said Georg. He liked this young man. Georg held out a hand for him to shake, "I'm Georg." Generally, when actually wanting to introduce himself to someone (which was a rarity), he hated to immediately introduce his status as a Captain; it could very well be intimidating. Today, he just wanted to be an ordinary man and music lover.

The young man shook the hand Georg offered with a smile. "Dominik. Nice to meet you."

He'd never seen this older, more refined looking man. Dominik could tell just from the way he carried himself that he came from the upper class. But knowing to ask would be making assumptions and quite rude, he resumed his own search for the nocturne he was looking for. He found Mendellsohn just a little too stuffy for his taste, so his new acquaintance

"You like Chopin?" asked Georg, as he pulled out what he'd been looking for.

Dominik looked up again and leafed through the music, making sure no pages were missing. "Yes, very much. The piano has always been the one instrument that I understand and know completely, and I think in terms of composition, Chopin comes to the forefrunt for me."

Georg nodded. "His music is very lovely."

"Yes," said Dominik. "My sister's favorite, as well. Whenever I come to Salzburg and see her, Chopin is the first thing she wants to hear me play, especially a nocturne she's particularly fond of. Unfortunately, I had forgotten my own copy in Innsbruck so I must find a replacement before I leave tomorrow."

"Oh, does your sister play as well?"

"Not the piano, no. Her instrument is the guitar," replied Dominik, motioning with his head to the nearby section.

"Ah," was all Georg said as his eyes turned to the guitars. They got a faraway look, as if he were recalling a fond memory, so Dominik decided to tactfully return to the task at hand. But soon, Georg was speaking again, whether to himself or Dominik he wasn't sure.

"I ought to buy some Mozart pieces while I'm here. I've been playing too many minor pieces and scaring my children away."

"Oh, you have children?" Dominik inquired with a smile.

"Yes, seven."

Dominik's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He couldn't help but say, "Seven children?" Did this mean that . . .

Georg laughed to himself. "Yes, I get that a lot," he said, taking Dominik's shocked reaction as only for the number.

But that was not the only reason. Maria's story rushed back into his mind, including the fact that there were seven Von Trapp children. How many families had seven children these days? He looked closely at Georg as the older man browsed through the Mozart section. He fit Maria's description to a T . . . Could this be . . . oh my goodness . . . But something stopped him from inquiring outright. No, he needed to find out in a more . . . subtle fashion.

"So, I'm glad that no pages are missing from this nocturne. I promised my sister I would play it in full before she has to return to the Abbey."

Dominik saw Georg's searching fingers stop right away, and then resume (shaking a little) as he inquired, feigning nonchalance. "Abbey?"

"Yes, Nonberg Abbey, she's a postulant there," said Dominik, looking at him carefully for a reaction again. Unfortunately, this Georg had a good poker face, but his eyes got some kind of spark of recognition in them.

"A postulant, you say?"

Dominik decided to give a final clue, needing to know if this was the man who haunted his sister. "Oh, yes. I remember us climbing a tree that stood next to the Abbey and listening to the sisters sing. Whenever they would sing "Ave Maria," my sister would get very excited and say, 'That's my name, that's my song!' Always adorable."

Georg gave himself away by having a little coughing fit, turning his head away and covering his mouth. No doubt about it thought Dominik; this was Captain Von Trapp.

Now that he knew who he was, Dominik was not sure what to think or how to view this man. He seemed friendly and genuine enough to him, but this was also the same man who had caused Maria so much pain and confusion. But since this Captain didn't know he knew just who he was and what he had done to his sister, Dominik kept quiet.

"Well," said Georg, once he'd recovered and looked at Dominik again. "I hope she will be very happy."

Dominik had expected many things for him to say, but certainly not that. His tone was completely sincere and so was the look in his eyes. Dominik suddenly recalled Maria's description of when the Captain had said good-bye . . . something about all he wanted for her was to be happy . . . was it possible that this man felt more for his sister than he thought?

"Thank you, I will," replied Dominik, his voice slightly awestruck. "If there is one thing my sister has always wanted, it is to be all that God created her to be."

A fond smile spread across Georg's face. Then he nodded and hurriedly began browsing through the sheet music again, not looking for anything in particular. "Sounds like a young woman I once knew. She was the most . . . faithful, loving, spirited and lovely person I've ever known." He spoke more to himself than to Dominik as he gave the description.

Dominik's ears perked up, knowing full well that this man was talking about his sister, whether or not he knew it. Dominik was pretty sure he did. Doing the only safe thing he could do, Dominik merely nodded. He needed to tell all of this to Maria, and quickly.

So, he managed a small smile for the man and said, "Well, Georg, I must be going now. But it's very nice to have met you."

They shook hands again, and Georg smiled back. "Likewise, Dominik."

After a final nod and smile, Dominik made his way to Werner, behind the counter, made his purchase and quickly left the store without looking back.

He had to talk to his sister, and now.

Maria spent the previous night on her mountain. Though Max wasn't sure it was a good idea, Dominik gave him reassurance as Maria walked out of the Bristol Hotel. The weather was warm, and Maria had spent many nights in the hills around the Untersberg, both with and without Dominik.

She'd kissed Dominik good-bye with the promise that they would see each other again tomorrow. To Max she gave a friendly hug and a sincere wish for him to give the children all of her love.

The hills around her mountain were peaceful, and the Untersberg stood tall and strong like her guard of honor. She barely slept that night by choice; she had a lot to think about. The sky had fewer clouds than usual, and the moon – a few days after it had been full – gave Maria plenty of light to see. Sometimes she sat in a tree, but most of the time she walked, restless as she was. Maria talked to God in her heart that night, and slowly but surely, she began to understand.

Just before sunrise, Maria arrived back at the Abbey. Knowing full well that the gates to the Abbey would be closed, Maria came to the tree that she and Dominik would often sit in to look out into the Abbey garden. Fortunately, the branches were large and strong enough to help her get onto the the top of the wall, and she was able to climb down into the garden with the help of the ivy crawling up the wall. Quietly and without anybody seeing her, Maria managed to come back to her tiny little room.

Breathing deeply, Maria changed from her ordinary postulants dress and apron into her more formal, black woolen one. Also, she clasped her wimple back on her head again. She stood still for a moment, and took in the sensations she felt. For the first time, the entire outfit felt confining and stifling to Maria; of course it was always a little uncomfortable, but now she really felt it: She didn't belong in it.

Sighing, Maria picked up her pearl rosary – the last heirloom left of her mother – from the bedside table and made her way to the door. Morning prayer started at sunrise, and she could be on time for once. But as she opened the door, Maria noticed that there was something on her bed that hadn't been there when she'd left the previous day: a brown-paper package tied with strings. Her heart reflexively inflated with joy at the sight of one of her favorite things, but then she heard the sounds of the other sisters singing on their way to the church for prayer. Deciding to see what the package contained later, Maria left her room and made her way towards the singing.

But she soon found herself not at the doors to the church but the chapel, a room not used for morning prayers. A room that was small and intimate, full of lit candles and a stained-glass window facing east. Also, the beautiful statue of the Blessed Mother holding her infant Son. Feeling her heart being drawn into the room, Maria forgot about the morning prayers and went into the chapel, shutting the door securely behind her.

Looking at the beautiful statue with the stained glass window behind it, Maria knelt down before it almost involuntarily. Tears seemed to come from her eyes from nowhere. Also from nowhere, a song came into her heart and out of her mouth, to the Mother and her Son:

I thought I did what's right

I thought I had the answers

I thought I chose the surest road

But that road brought me here.

Maria thought of the girl she'd been when she'd first come to the convent; this was nowhere near where she thought she would be, in this state of mind. That girl she'd been and the girl she felt she was now felt worlds apart. One had been so sure, and another wasn't sure of anything. She'd tried to get that certainty back in every way she could.

So I put up a fight

And told you how to help me

Now just when I have given up,

The truth is coming clear.

The first morning light began to come through the stain-glass window as Maria acknowledged the truth out loud for the first time, staring at the face of her beautiful Mother and Savior.

You know better than I

You know the way

I've let go the need to know why

For You know better than I.

Maria thought back to her time at the Von Trapp villa, and all of the new things she had been introduced to, both wonderful and frightening.

If this has been a test

I cannot see the reason

But maybe knowing I don't know

Is part of getting through.

A test – that's what she'd first thought when she'd first started to feel unfamiliar feelings for her employer, and first started to have doubts about being a nun. But then Maria realized something: even through all of that, her faith had never wavered. Never once had she doubted that God loved her, and was always with her.

I try to do what's best

And faith has made it easy

To see the best thing I can do

Is put my trust in You

For You know better than I

You know the way

I've let go the need to know why

For You know better than I

This revelation led to another: ever since making the decision to become a nun, she'd narrowed her perspective, completely disregarding any other possibility of a happy life outside the convent. God did not want eyes half-closed but wide open! She'd believed so much that being a nun was the will of God, when it wasn't: she'd put her own desires before God's. She'd been so blind, but now she'd make it right. And to do that, she would need His help now more than ever before.

I saw one cloud and thought it was the sky

I saw a bird and thought that I could follow

But it was You who taught that bird to fly

If I let You reach me, will You teach me?

For You know better than I

You know the way

I've let go the need to know why

I'll take what answers you supply

You know better than I.

The song ended, and Maria had tears on her cheeks. Tears of relief, tears of a new beginning, as the full light of the sunrise came in through the lovely window, filling the room with color and light. A new dawn and a new beginning. Smiling slightly, finally accepting her fate, Maria raised her right hand and took off her wimple.

She was a postulant no more.

A/N: The song I used is called "Better Than I" from the animated movie "Joseph, King of Dreams," a truly lovely song that I thought fit Maria's situation perfectly.

I love reviews!