Frau Helga Schmidt had worked at with the Von Trapp family since the Captain had married his first wife. She had watched each of the seven children come into the world and watched them grow. And in her more than a score of years working for this family, she had seen everything but the greatest joys to the most painful sorrows.
And this day in late August would be counted among the greatest joys. She knew this even before the day came, the evening before when the telephone call from Vienna had come. She had watched from a distance as each of the seven children had a chance to speak to their father on the phone. Some faces were wet with happy tears, but all had broad smiles on their faces.
The next day, it was all that she and Herr Detweiler could do to keep the children distracted. Even though the Captain, Maria and her brother were not due until the afternoon, the children were nothing but restless all morning. Gretl asked three times at breakfast whether her father and governess might come home earlier.
Finally, Herr Detweiler had succeeded in taking the children outside, venting their impatience through singing. They really did sound absolutely wonderful, but she knew that her employer would never consent to them singing in the festival. Oh, well. Perhaps some things were too precious to share.
This worked so well that the children and Max did not hear the sound of a car driving up to the house, but she did. Joy and relief filling her, Frau Schmidt rushed to the front door, Franz following behind her at a more regular pace. Obviously he heard the car approaching as well.
She opened the door to see the Captain getting out of the driver's seat, a happy smile on his face and looking as well as he did the last time she had seen him. Out of the back seats emerged Fraulein Maria and a young man she had never seen before. It must be Dominik; the Captain had told her on the phone last night that he had come for a week long stay.
"Oh, Captain, welcome home!" said Frau Schmidt, clapping her hands together.
Her employer smiled. "I think it goes without saying that it is very good to be back home."
"I would agree, sir," said Franz, displaying a small but rare smile. "Shall I take your luggage up to your room?"
"Yes, thank you," said Georg. "Now, Frau Schmidt, where are the seven urchins you've had to look after?" He spoke in a casual tone, but no one could deny the anticipation and need in his eyes for his children.
"Out back with Herr Detweiler, singing away their excitement."
The five adults immediately proceeded into the house. Franz, carrying the luggage, headed up the stairs to do his task. The four remaining adults paused in the hall when they heard the sound of the children singing. Frau Schmidt looked at her employer's face and her breath caught in her throat, tears coming unexpectedly to her eyes at the sight of his bright eyes and small smile.
He turned to young Maria, who's reflection mirrored his own, and she said, "Go, love." Frau Schmidt smiled when she heard this; so the two had come to terms with their feelings after all. How many nights had she looked out the window before bed and seen those two walking the grounds, hand in hand? Personally, she thought that this young woman – whom she had quite underestimated on first meeting – was the answer to all of this family's prayers.
The Captain squeezed her hand in reply then headed towards the direction of his children's voices. He opened the doors and there was an immediate hush. Frau Schmidt watched through the open doorway as the Captain and his children rushed towards each other. Inexplicably, Frau Schmidt turned away from the sight; even from this distance, she felt like she was intruding on a moment too precious to share. She had been right about that, she realized.
Frau Schmidt turned her gaze towards the other two adults with her. Dominik had a look of content happiness on his face as he watched the beautiful reunion outside. Then she turned her gaze to Fraulein Maria and was startled. There were tears in her eyes, which didn't surprise her, but the expression in them did. Mingled with the happiness of seeing the family together were emotions that Frau Schmidt couldn't name, whether they were good or bad even she didn't know.
When little Marta was heard to say, "You came back, Papa, you came back!" Maria seemed to break inside. She muttered something about going upstairs to unpack and practically ran up the stairs carrying her luggage and her face set. Dominik watched after her with a look of understanding until she disappeared, then turned to Frau Schmidt.
"Excuse me, I haven't introduced myself, I'm Dominik," he said in a pleasant voice, holding out his hand.
"Yes, I've heard so much about you," she replied, shaking his hand, her mind still on the distraught Maria. "I'm Frau Schmidt, the housekeeper."
He nodded his head in the direction Maria had run. "Could you keep her company?" he asked, the concern of a brother evident in his voice.
"Of course," said Frau Schmidt, and immediately set out after her. As she ascended to the second floor, she heard the sounds of the family coming back in, and the Captain introducing the children to Dominik. He was a kind and gentle soul, she could see that right away.
Coming to Maria's room she found the door slightly open. She knocked softly as she opened it all the way, revealing Maria hunched over her suitcase, which was lying open on the bed, her shoulders shaking. The young woman seemed to sense who it was and gave a slight smile without looking at Frau Schmidt or moving her position.
"Forgive me," she murmured. "I think the past few days have caught up with me . . . And now they're over . . . and everyone I love is safe, under the same roof . . . I haven't had that since . . ."
Frau Schmidt could somehow sense there was something bothering her along with this, but decided not to ask. Instead, she smiled kindly when the younger woman turned her gaze to her, and nodded in understanding. "Let me help you unpack," said Frau Schmidt kindly, approaching the bed and picking up one of Maria's dresses.
Maria gave a smile of gratitude, and the two women completed their tasks in silence. All the while, Frau Schmidt thought, If he doesn't make her a permanent member of this family, there is no good left in this world.
A little while later, Georg and Dominik were taking a walk outside on the grounds.
The older man had noticed something in the younger man's eyes when he'd explained how Maria was upstairs packing and would come out when she was ready. Something was not quite right. Hearing now that she had rushed up crying had him worried.
"What's wrong?"
Dominik sighed. "You know her parent's died when we were eight . . . did she ever tell you how?"
Georg searched his memory, and shook his head.
"Well," said Dominik heavily, as he remembered a sad time, "Her father caught the scarlet fever from a carpenter he worked with. The case turned out to be much more severe than anyone expected, him being a strong and healthy man. Maria stayed with me at my home, since my parents were abroad traveling and my governess always liked her. But Maria's mother never left her husband's side.
"Except once. She came to take Maria home one last time, to say good-bye to her father, who had taken a turn for the worse he couldn't go back from. Both hugged her goodbye and her mother brought her back to my house."
The two men sat down on a bench, Dominik's face reflecting past pain. "All day, every day, she would sit at my bedroom window and watch for her mother. But she never came. She caught the fever from being with her husband so long. They died within a few days of each other, first the father than the mother . . . When the doctor came to the house and broke the news to Maria . . . and the fact that she had to move in with that . . . monster . . ."
There was a tense moment of silence as Dominik regained his normally peaceful temper and Georg processed this new information. How horrible . . . at least he was able to stay by Agathe's side while she was sick . . . Maria had to be kept away . . .
Dominik sighed. "Well, anyway, I imagine that seeing you coming home to your children reminded Maria of what she was denied . . . As happy and relieved as she is that the worst is over, I know this crossed her mind. Only that would make her shut herself away from you and the children."
Georg contemplated all of this new information, and only further resolved in the resolution he and his children had come to just a short time ago. "Thank you, Dominik. Not only for telling me this . . . but I now understand what Maria meant when she said you were the reason she made it through. What she suffered . . ."
Dominik shook his head. "I can't take all of the credit. God blessed her with a strength and heart I continued to be awed by all our lives. He and those things got her through more than me. After all, I was her age, a child myself. All I could really do was be there for her."
"And that made all the difference," said Georg with conviction. He stood up, and so did Dominik. "There is something else I must speak to you about. I realize that one normally goes to the parents, but given the circumstances . . ." Georg pulled out something from his pocket and showed it to Dominik.
When he saw it, he smiled. "Good. Very good. Not too big or vulgar, she wouldn't want fuss. And yes, you have my full blessing. All I want is for my sister to be happy and taken care of. I know with you and the children, she will be."
The two men embraced like brothers, and Dominik pointed Georg in the direction he had seen his sister going.
Maria walked idly around a tree near the glass gazebo in the late afternoon sun. It must be nearly dinner time, and soon she would have to go inside and change. But she didn't have the courage yet. She felt too ashamed. Ashamed that she could not face any of the family, feeling if she did she would start crying again. But no matter what she did – stayed away or saw them and cried – she was dampening the joyous feeling around the villa. What was wrong with her?
Oh, well, I know what's wrong with me, but I still hate it.
As she sat down on the nearby stone bench, a thought came to her: there was less than a week left of summer. Then the children would begin school, and would no longer be in need of a governess. What would people say about her staying when, to outside eyes, there was no need of her? The fact that she and Georg were in love would translate to the upper-class as one thing: she was his plaything. She was sure of it.
Maria hung her head. She would have to tell Georg that she would have to move out when the month ended. Perhaps the Reverend Mother would give her temporary shelter . . .
"Hello."
Her head shot up and she saw Georg standing under the nearby tree she had just been circling. So busy with her thoughts she hadn't noticed him coming. Even with everything, seeing him caused her heart to lift with joy.
"I thought I – just might find you here," he said. His tone was forcibly casual and playful, but his movements were restless. As if he were trying to hide some kind of . . . nervous feeling.
Maria stood up. "Georg, what is it?"
How can she read me so well? And I used to be a master of hiding my emotions . . . I need to calm my heart. Quickly, he stepped up to Maria and took her hands, squeezing them, hoping some of that strength Dominik had described would transfer temporarily to him. "I just . . . I wanted to . . . I need to talk to you."
He hadn't meant to sound so serious; by the look on her face, she immediately assumed bad news.
"All right," Maria said, keeping the tremor from her voice.
Georg kept one of his hands in hers as he walked into the gazebo, more for the sake of giving him a few extra moments to gather himself and find the proper words. Yet as they entered the glass structure, he found himself thinking what had made him choose this particular architecture . . . Focus!
Maria knew the man she loved quite well, and by now had deduced that he was uneasy or nervous about something. Stepping in front of him and caressing his cheek with her free hand, she said, "Georg, talk to me. I can see something is on your mind."
In that moment, looking at her, Georg realized why he was so nervous: if she refused, he and his children would be plunged into a sadness they probably could not survive. They could not lose their angel. He could not lose his love.
This revelation brought him the courage he had been looking for. Taking both her hands in his, he began. "Maria, I've just been thinking, and I've realized that next week marks the end of the month, when the children will start school again."
So he had been thinking what she had been thinking. She hung her head and nodded.
"Which means that there would be no reason for them to continue to have a governess."
Again, she nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I have been thinking that too. I suppose, then, that I will leave when Dominik does, perhaps stay at the Abbey for a few days until I can find a place for myself –"
"Absolutely not."
The finality of his tone made her look up. His blue eyes had nothing but conviction. "Georg, what would people say if I stayed? A governess that is no longer needed but still stays? Just because she's in love with her employer?"
Georg could not help the smile that appeared as he heard the last part, but stayed on track. "Well, you would no longer be the governess, obviously."
Maria's eyes narrowed. She might not like where this conversation was leading to.
What Georg did next removed any such thoughts from her mind.
"Well, then, allow me to clarify." And with that, he got down on one knee.
