"Fraulein Maria, will you please read us a story?" asked Brigitta as she unbraided her long dark hair.
Maria gave a little laugh as she brushed out Louisa's hair. Her golden hair always managed to get tangled from all of her activity, and she only trusted Maria to do it rightly while being gentle. "I usually get that question from Marta and Gretl, and to my knowledge, you usually like to read the stories yourselves!"
"Can we listen while you read the little ones their story, then?" asked Louisa, turning around to face her governess.
Maria raised her eyebrows, looking at the three oldest girls. "All right, I don't see why not. Are you all suddenly eager to be so little again?"
Liesl shrugged. "Sometimes we do, I suppose."
Maria nodded in silent understanding. "Should we invite the boys, as well?"
"Nah," said Louisa unconcernedly. "I bet they're already asleep – that dessert was so rich and we ran a lot today. They'd be crabby to wake up."
Maria laughed, and she revelled in it. Alone with the children like this was the only time she felt at ease, safe, and relatively content. Left on her own is when her thoughts would start to stray down dangerous roads. So if the children wanted a story, she would give them a story!
"What story would you all like to hear?" asked Maria, when she was settled between Mart and Gretl in her own bed – with six people they all voted for a big bed to sit on together.
Brigitta pulled a storybook out from behind her back and handed it to Maria, who looked at the cover. "Beauty and the Beast? All right then, it's been a long time since I've heard this story . . ."
She barely saw Liesl, Brigitta and Louisa exchange a private smile, but didn't choose to wonder about it. Opening the lovely storybook, she commenced. This really is a beautiful love story Maria thought, as she read them the fairy tale. Beautiful girl, misunderstood by her neighborhood, must come to an enchanted castle to save her father's life, owned by a horrible Beast. At first, they just argue and couldn't be more different, but a little change makes them realize how similar they are, and they become friends, then something more . . . Maria felt a strange tugging and singing in her heart as she read this story, but she didn't know why. All she knew was that by the end she had tears in her eyes, and thought it was the most beautiful story she'd ever read.
"What did you think, Fraulein Maria?" asked Brigitta, who was smiling again.
Maria was surprised: usually, it was she who asked the children that question. "Um . . . it's a lovely story, Brigitta. Why this one?"
Brigitta shrugged, and the other girls looked just as innocent. Giving up, Maria looked at the two nearly sleeping little ones on either side of her. Nodding her head for Liesl to help her, Maria took Marta in her arms, and Liesl complied by picking up Gretl.
Maria walked back to her own room with a sigh of resignation. She was not looking forward to falling asleep and dreaming of who-knows-what. Lately, her dreams all consistd of her wandering through the gardens and extensive grounds of the Von Trapp villa. There was mist, swirling silver and gold mist, and every appearing and disappearing was the figure and face of the Captain. But what Maria couldn't figure out was whether she was running from him or, even worse, running to him.
But why in the world would she want to run to him? Each time she asked that question, her heart would cry out something to her, shake her core. But her mind either could not or would not interpret what it said. Maria had never been more confused in all her life.
Deciding that a nice cup of tea might be soothing, Maria quietly made her way down the stairs. Of course, her route to the kitchen required her to pass the Captain's study, but no lights spilled out from under the door that night. She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing as she slowed her pace. Maria approached the kitchen, preparing to make the sharp turn into the room.
What happened next was completely unexpected and unwelcome.
Georg poured the scalding hot water, fresh from the stove, into his tea cup, the tea bag already resting inside. It would cool off enough for him to drink by the time he reached his study – he preferred his tea very warm. Perhaps this tea would help him to settle his mind enough to fall asleep before midnight, for once.
Newly determined, he walked for the door with a sure step. But just as he turned the corner, he collided with a small, warm body: her scent was enough to tell him who it was. Both let out exclamations of shock, and then pain. Some of the hot liquid from his cup sloshed and spilled out, a little landing on the front of his night-shirt. He could feel the uncomfortable heat seeping through to his chest, but thankfully the fabric saved him from being burned by the very hot liquid.
"Fraulein!" he exclaimed – he couldn't help but be a little annoyed as well as surprised. "What in the world are you do – " But he stopped as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could clearly see her now. She stood hunched over, her left hand clutching her right wrist. The back of her right hand glistened with the newly fallen, extremely hot liquid. Maria was breathing very hard, trying to control a cry or sob that wanted to break free from her throat.
Any annoyed feelings he had towards her were gone in an instant, replaced immediately with concern and guilt. "Oh, Fraulein! I'm so sorry! Come inside, I'll help you."
If Maria had not been so concentrated on the pain of the minor burn on the back of her hand, she would have argued that she could easily take care of herself. But she could concentrate on nothing but not crying in front of him. So she let the Captain take her gently but firmly by the elbow and lead her into the kitchen and to the sink. Setting down his nearly empty tea cup, he turned on the faucet to its coldest setting. "Hold your hand under the water, Fraulein, while I go get some ointment and bandages."
Maria nodded, eagerly putting her scalding flesh under the icy flow. It provided relief little by little, and she managed to swallow the lump in her throat.
Once he saw that Maria's hand was under the water and she didn't plan on moving it, Georg practically ran to the medicine cabinets where Frau Schmidt kept the first aid supplies. He felt horrible, since this was all his fault: he had been walking too quickly, too lost in his own thoughts to hear her approaching. And why did he have to make his tea so damn hot?
He came back to her with a bottle of proper ointment in one hand and some gauze and medical tape in the other. Georg set them on the kitchen table and grabbed a towel from the counter. Looking at Maria, he could see that she was still breathing slowly and deeply, but the immediate and harsh pain was receding from her face.
"Is it feeling any better?" he asked, the gentle tone of his voice like a low rich bell to her ears. Her heart seemed to shiver in pleasure, but she barely noticed.
"A little," she said, her voice small and tight.
"When you're ready, come to the table and I'll help you dress your hand."
Maria turned her head sharply to look at him, and her breath caught in her throat. It was the first time since the party that she'd allowed herself to really look at him. The Captain was dressed for bed, an elegant dark blue robe covering his pajamas, his bare feet in slippers. At least his hair was still combed perfectly, but his face reflected nothing but concern for her. Was this the same man who wanted to just "take her to bed and be done with it"? Remembering those words made her shiver, and she said, "Oh, no, Captain, that's not necessary, I'm more than capable of –"
The Captain held up a hand to stop her protest. "Please, Fraulein, it's the least I can do for being so careless and having you suffer the consequences."
"It was only an accident," she murmured, even as she turned off the water and walked to the kitchen table and sat down.
Georg pulled up a chair to sit by her, their knees almost touching. "And that doesn't mean someone can't get hurt. So, please, allow me."
Slowly, Maria nodded, and held out her right hand, which was beginning to sting again without the cold water to ease the pain.
He saw her hand shaking a little, and his heart swelled for her – was she afraid of him? When had she ever been afraid of him? Resolving to be as gentle as he could, Georg gave her a small reassuring smile as he poured some ointment onto his fingers. He took her hand gently with his left, and both felt a subtle electric charge shoot down their spines: first skin-on-skin touch. "This might sting a little at first, but I promise it will pass," said Georg in that same gentle tone. Then Georg began to gently rub the ointment over her first-degree burn.
He was right: it did sting a little at first, and Maria drew in a sharp breath through her teeth. His own heart hurt for her, and he was as gentle as possible.
Soon her pain subsided, and he could feel her relax a little. He took his time as he spread and gently rubbed the ointment; at last, he could touch her, even if he hadn't imagined these exact circumstances. His fingers were gentle, almost caressing her skin. With his left hand that was touching palm-to-palm with hers, he could feel how smooth her skin was.
Maria felt the pain slowly going away thanks to the ointment and the Captain's gentle fingers. She couldn't help but watch as his fingers worked. His hands were bigger than her own, and were a little rougher too. But his touch was so warm and gentle, it was baffling. He was baffling.
Done with the ointment, Georg cut some gauze from it's roll and gently, slowly, wrapped it around her hand, with just enough pressure to be secure. He fastened it with a piece of medical tape. "There," he murmured. Now was the time he should have withdrawn his hands, but somehow he couldn't. He still felt horrible for hurting her, and as if he were asking for forgiveness, he ever so gently encased her hand with both of his own. Even with her bandage it was warm. As he held her hand, the revelation he'd made earlier that day rang back true and strong in every cell of his body. If he had his way, Georg would never have to let her go . . . Oh my God . . . He finally realized the truth. "Maria," he breathed in a soft voice full of awe and –
Suddenly, a warm drop came from above his hand and landed on his fingers. He looked up to see Maria's face hanging. When she spoke, the tone of her whisper reflected her expression: agony.
"Please . . . please don't."
A/N: Sigh . . . this next chapter is going to be tough to write, so be patient with me . . . I can't tell you how much I appreciate the reviews of the last chapter, hope to get just as many for every chapter I do!
