The beautiful day had turned into a beautiful evening. The sky had remained cloudless, offering no obstruction to the full moon, which cast a beautiful glow on the house and grounds. The slight breeze in the air, still retaining some of the sun's warmth from the day, was exactly what a summer wind should be. The atmosphere was so peaceful, but Maria felt no real peace in her heart, not since the incident in the market.
Dinner with the family had been nothing short of joyous, especially when the children surprised her by carrying in a chocolate cake with lit candles, singing the birthday song for her. She remembered Gretl saying earnestly, "Make a wish, Fraulein!" Maria had looked at each of the children with all of the love and gratitude she could, then her gaze fell upon Georg at the opposite end of the table. Was it just her, or was there something different in his gaze, something more direct than subtle? Whatever it was, she blushed and closed her eyes, and the only thing she remembered about her wish was that his face had remained in her mind's eye.
Now, she waited on the back terrace for him. He had asked her to wait for him, while he took over her duties of putting the children to bed. Maria had no idea what, or if he had something planned. But left alone, her thoughts were churning and offered no respite.
The incident outside of the café kept replaying over and over in her mind, both what the ladies had said and her less-than-ladylike reaction.
It had not been for herself that she had retaliated so strongly – she'd been on the bad end of plenty of gossip as a child and teenager, and was more-or-less used to it – but for Georg. The fact that once, over a month ago, she had confronted him for speaking about her in nearly the same way those women had, made the situation even more of a paradox. She knew she had forgiven him, but this . . .
More immediate on her mind was the very fact that her going to the opera with Georg had been seen, to some in the upper-class, as a sort of scandal. Looking at this situation with outside eyes, Maria began to see why people might gossip. After all, she was both his children's governess and a former postulant, not to mention from the lower class. Of course there would be gossip and speculation. The idea that she could be the reason of a possible smear on Georg's reputation was . . . heart-breaking.
Becoming a little sad with these thoughts, Maria rested her elbows on her knees and opened her palms to her face, looking at them. In the moonlight, she could vaguely see the scar on her left middle finger left from a broken glass. Her fingers were tough from years of sewing experience. Certainly no upper-class lady would have hands like this, allowed to be touched by any sharp or dangerous object . . .
Somehow, so lost in her thoughts, Maria had not heard Georg come out onto the terrace. He found her sitting in that slouched position on a chair, staring at her palms with a sad look in her eyes. Wordlessly, he came in front of her, and only when he took her hands in his did she realize she was not alone. Maria gasped and looked up, and had never seen a more kind expression in his face. He pulled her up easily and looked at her for a moment before saying, "I want to show you something."
Georg let go of one of her hands and led her down the terrace steps to the lake. He opened the iron gate and led her down to the dock, where a little rowboat was tied and waiting. Smaller than the larger boat that could hold the entire family, but lovely nonetheless. As Georg began untying the sailor knot of the rope, he noticed Maria standing on the steps, looking at the boat apprehensively.
"Perhaps this slipped your mind," said Maria, "but my luck on the water is not exactly promising."
Georg smiled. "It's rather hard to forget a sight like that, I admit. But this time, you will not be in a boat with seven excitable children. You may recall I have some experience and knowledge in this particular field."
Now Maria smiled and slowly came down the remaining two steps and towards the rowboat. She took a steadying hand from Georg, and carefully climbed into the boat, taking the seat at the stern. Georg followed and pushed off the boat from the dock. He took up an oar in each hand and began to row, quickly reaching a steady pace.
Though she was in a boat, she felt none of her previous apprehensive feelings. She knew that he would never let her fall in or put her in a less-than-safe situation. She found the movement of his arms as he worked fascinating. And strong, too. Maria remembered the evenings when one of those arms had held her close to his side, while they had relaxed and read aloud on the study couch. How safe she felt . . . Maria wondered what it would be like to have both of those arms wrapped around her, to be held flush against his body . . . surely she would feel safe there.
Breaking away from these potentially dangerous thoughts, Maria noticed that Georg kept looking over his shoulder as he rowed, as if he were looking for a specific destination.
"Where are you taking me?" asked Maria.
Georg gave her that half smile she loved so much. "Patience is a virtue, have you not heard?"
Maria made a face at him but couldn't stop the giggle in her throat. She settled for lowering one of her hands to the water and idly feeling it between her fingers. Gently playing and splashing, Maria looked out at the water. The moonlight on the water created beautiful flashes of white on the dark water, dancing and blinking. A jewel mine sparkling couldn't be as lovely as this, surely.
When the boat seemed to bump smoothly against something solid, Maria snapped out of her thoughts and saw that Georg had reached his destination: a very tiny island in the middle of the lake that Maria had only glimpsed on her boat ride with the children. At the time, she'd questioned whether or not she'd seen a mirage. The island itself looked smaller than the villa, with only two or three trees. "So this is a real place, then."
Georg got out of the boat and pulled in more securely onto the sand. "You've seen it before, surely."
"Yes, but at quite a distance, and the size didn't help in the light of the bright sun on the water."
"Well, it is real," said Georg as he lowered a small weight onto the sand, attached to the boat to keep it from floating away. "I discovered it one morning when I was swimming, and have made it part of my route; it's a good distance."
"You swin in the lake?"
"Every morning at sunrise," said Georg. "Years in the navy made me an early riser and a lifetime lover of the water."
Maria smiled. "Yes, I can see that." Georg offered her both hands and helped her out of the rowboat. "Have you named the island, Captain? I hear that's what sea captains do when they claim a piece of land."
Georg chuckled. "I never thought about that, to be honest. That's something we'll have to think about."
Maria liked that he'd said we instead of I. That meant he planned to bring her here more often, and she would like that. Maria watched as he took out a folded blanket from underneath his seat and spread it out on the grass near the sand. He took a seat and motioned to the free space beside him. Maria, feeling no fear, sat down at his side. Their hands found each other's and their fingers entwined between them.
"Marta once told me," said Georg, "that one of your favorite things was a sky full of stars."
"Mm-hm," said Maria, almost getting lost in his warm gaze and not really registering where this was going.
"Then I suggest you look up."
Maria did, and gasped. With the absence of trees and lights from the house, as well as no cloud cover, for the second time in her life Maria was able to see the full majesty of the night sky. Stars too innumerable to count, with the full moon as their queen, filled the midnight blue sky. "Oh, Georg, this is . . . the most beautiful sight I've ever seen!"
"I couldn't agree more," said Georg, his gaze lingering on her, but when she looked back at him, his gaze was on the night sky. "These stars are a sailor's best friends when out at sea. They can always tell you how to get home, provided the sky is clear enough. One can only see this many stars away from bright lights."
"Yes. I've only seen this many stars once before."
"When was that?"
Maria sighed, letting her mind go back. "Did you know my maternal grandmother was French?"
"No," said Georg, surprised.
"She met my grandfather, an Austrian, and they moved to his homeland to be married. I never knew him; he died when my mother was a teenager. When my father and mother got married, she moved back to her home. When I was about Gretl's age . . . maybe four or five . . . my mother and father took me on a short visit to see her."
"So you have been to France?" asked Georg, who had been there many times and knew the language well from years abroad.
Maria chuckled. "It was a short stay, and it was a long time ago. My memories are a bit hazy . . ." Maria closed her eyes, willing the memories to come back. "It was fall but still warm . . . I remember the colors were radiant, autumn colors. So many trees. Crisp sky and gentle clouds . . . My grandmother's cottage in a clearing by a forest."
"Do you know where in France she lived?" asked Georg softly, once again entranced by the sight of her. "Perhaps I've been there."
Maria opened her eyes and bit her lip, trying to remember. "It was in the east . . . a rural area outside of . . . Lyon, I think."
Georg nodded, having never been there but knowing the name. "Tell me about your grandmother."
Maria smiled. "She had so much life, even with her silver hair and wrinkles. She seemed to dance rather than walk, and she sang when she did anything."
"Sounds like someone I know," said Georg, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Maria blushed. "I only ever saw her during those few days, but I remember one night she took me to the top of a hill on a clear night, and showed me a sky like this." She waved her hand above her. "I remember her saying to herself as she looked up . . . Che Dieu . . . do you know what that means?"
Georg smiled. "God's house."
This information made Maria sigh and smile. "Somehow I knew it was something like that . . . the rosary I inherited from my mother had been hers, after all." She looked back up at the skies. "Che Dieu indeed. How can anybody not see something like this and not know there is a God?"
Her faith awed him, something so strong in her always had. Through everything she had endured she'd had the strength to hold on to the faith that God had not abandoned her. Something he couldn't quite say for himself; how many times had he cursed God after Agathe had died? Georg broke out of his reverie when he saw Maria was not done speaking of her grandmother.
"A month or so ago, Brigitta asked me to read the story of Beauty and the Beast to her and her older sisters, I don't know why. I'd forgotten until then that my grandmother had told me that story during my visit . . . She would sing to me, too. Songs she had passed on to my mother. Growing up I had heard my mother singing songs in French to herself . . ."
"Do you remember any of them?"
Maria closed her eyes again. "Some just barely, others fully . . . Looking around me, I think I can understand one of them now, a song my grandmother first sang to me when she showed me a sky full of stars. My mother and grandmother translated it for me when I asked, but the words mean so much more to me now."
"I would love to hear it," said Georg, softly inviting. He loved the sound of her voice, and needed it too.
She was a little nervous now, especially since she would, for the first time, sing this song to the person who had – unintentionally – helped her understand the full meaning of the beautiful words. But she couldn't resist his pleading look, so she sang softly to the sparkling lake and diamond sky:
Ce rêve bleu
C'est un nouveau monde en couleur
Où personne ne nous dit
C'est interdit
De croire encore au bonheur!
Ce rêve bleu
Je n'y crois pas, c'est merveilleux!
Pour moi, c'est fabuleux
Quand dans les cieux
Nous partageons ce rêve bleu à deux.
Sous le ciel de cristal
Je me sens si légère
Je vire, délire et chavire
Dans un océan d'étoiles.
Georg was spellbound, as always, by her beautiful, flute-like voice. He'd never heard this song before, and it truly was beautiful and very fitting for the surroundings. Georg felt so glad he could understand the lyrics. He did, indeed, feel like he was in a beautiful blue dream with her.
Ce rêve bleu
C'est un voyage fabuleux
Je suis montée trop haut
Allée trop loin
Je ne peux plus retourner d'où je viens
Sur les chevaux du monde
Dans la poussière d'étoile
La vie contre le temps
Infiniment
En vivons ce rêve merveilleux.
Her gaze turned to Georg as the song ended, and she hoped he would understand that she was including him in this. It was the only way – sharing this personal memory and beautiful song and declaration – to show her gratitude for him bringing her here, to a place that he had called his own, so isolated and beautiful and magical. Georg did recognize it, and his heart swelled with love for her. He leaned forward and kissed her between the eyes.
The action seemed to make Maria's emotions catch up with her. After all, the last time she had sung that song, her mother had been alive. She put her head on Georg's shoulder and snuggled against him.
"That was beautiful, Maria," said Georg, stroking her back in a comforting gesture. She calmed immediately, even as her heart began to flutter. Gently, he asked, "Did you ever see her again?"
Maria shook her head even against his shoulder. "After my mother and father died, my uncle would not let me keep contact with her. His own mother, too! He never forgave her for moving back to her homeland; took it as abandonment, I suppose." She heaved a deep sigh. "I'll never, ever understand him . . ."
Georg kissed the crown of her head, and a moment of silence passed as he allowed her to calm. Wanting to steer the conversation to a happpier topic, he asked, "Did your grandmother teach you any of the constellations?"
Maria lifted her head and looked at the sky. "Only Ursa Major . . . she's pretty easy to find," replied Maria, and immediately pointed out the four stars of the bowl and three stars of the handle. She pointed to the tip. "And that's the North Star, right?"
"Correct," said Georg. Then he proceeded to point out to Maria other constellations he could see. He enjoyed showing them to her and telling her the myths behind each, and Maria enjoyed hearing them. When he would show her one, Georg would slide his arm underneath and along her own, her hand on top of his, so she could better see the constellations. This brought their heads together, often touching cheek to cheek. While Maria had to fight the impulse to fall into his arms, Georg had to fight the impulse not to lower her onto the blanket and kiss her with all of his might. But both resisted, afraid of scaring the other.
Thankfully, God intervened and a shooting star leaped brightly across the sky.
"Oh, I've never seen one of those before!" exclaimed Maria, trying to look for any others.
"Well, birthday girl, make a wish," said Georg, his gaze on her.
But Maria shook her head. "I've already had a wish today, you take it. I insist."
A smile spread across his face as he looked at her. "Very well, then." I wish for you to love me as much as I love you, that I may have the honor of marrying you, making love to you, spending life with you at my side for the rest of our lives.
He felt very glad that it was considered bad luck to tell a wish to someone else. Suddenly, he remembered the telegram that had come for him while she had been in town, and wondered what her reaction would be. Sighing, he said, "Maria, I need to tell you something."
The tone of his voice let Maria know that this would not be good news. Immediately fearing the worst, Maria steeled her heart and tried not to let her voice shake. "Yes?"
"Due to business matters that need to be done but I have no desire to do, I am leaving for Vienna early in the morning and will be there for a week."
She couldn't help but feel a little relieved as she said, "Oh!" Then the message sunk in: he would be gone for a week. "Oh," she said again, sounding sad. "Well . . . the children will miss you greatly."
He looked at her closely. "Only the children?"
As she met his strong gaze, Maria discovered that nothing bad would happen if she was honest, so she was honest. "No," she said in a small voice.
"Maria," said Georg, his voice gaining the quality of a low, rich bell. When his voice had that tone, Maria felt as if his voice were somehow giving her the most intimate caress. She felt utterly exposed, and yet unafraid at the same time. "Frau Schmidt told me what happened in town this afternoon."
She should have known Frau Schmidt would tell him everything. Coming to this topic, Maria suddenly felt as common as dirt and needed to put some distance between them. She got up and stepped onto the line that separated sand and grass. She stood with her back to him and crossed her arms. Georg saw how she tensed by the slight rising of her shoulders.
"I just . . . I . . . can't bear the thought of . . . I mean, I'm just a poor, clumsy, outspoken mountain girl and failed postulant . . . Of course people would talk like that, how can I blame them? I just hate to think I could be the reason for people thinking less of you . . . You deserve better than that, better than . . . me."
Maria's voice had become very soft now and she was fighting back tears, he could tell by the trembling of her shoulders. He sat there with his jaw dropping. How could she be so selfless? An ordinary woman would have still been stewing in anger about the gossip against her own name only. But Maria – as different as she was – found her self-esteem plummeting by the thought that she could be a discredit to his reputation.
Georg stood up and walked up behind her, letting his footsteps sound his approach. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and chest, his cheek pressing against her temple. He could feel she didn't quite know what to do with herself, so he whispered in her ear. "I can blame them, Maria, because what they speak of is none of their business. Words are only words; they come and go like changing wind. And what strangers think of me is of no importance next to what those close to me think of me. And what you said, Maria . . ."
Georg turned her around to face him, keeping his hands on her shoulders and their bodies close. "You are so much more than what they say. You brought my home back to life, with music and play and the little things in life I had pushed away. You gave my children the love and attention I had denied them for too long. And you made me feel something I never thought I could feel again." He paused for a moment before continuing. He had come to the main reason he'd brought her out here: no interruptions. "Please tell me some way I can repay you, Maria; I owe you so much."
Maria shook her head. "You've done so much for me already, more than you could ever know. How can I possibly ask for more?" She felt his breath just barely on her face; his eyes were captivating her and nothing could make her look away.
Georg lifted a hand to gently cup her chin, and said in the most intimate tone she'd ever heard him use, "Then will you let me at least thank you?" He gently stroked her bottom lip with his thumb; Maria could have sworn her heart stopped for a moment and closed her eyes. "May I, Maria?" His voice was a soft, pleading, intimate whisper.
Maria opened her eyes and saw the world in his blue eyes, and knew what she wanted. "Yes," she breathed.
Georg leaned forward and Maria closed her eyes. In the next moment, his lips were on hers and was kissing her, gently but firmly. For a moment, Maria stood in shock as everything else disappeared, and the only thing she was aware of was the feeling of his lips on hers and the warmth of his body. Then she felt her lips respond equally, and she slid her hands up his chest and stopped on his shoulders. Georg deepened the pressure and wrapped his arms around her back, holding her gently to him.
To the couple, all that existed was a blue dream and each other.
Their lips parted for breath, and foreheads rested against each other. They stood like that for a long moment, their hearts pounding. Eventually, Maria pulled back slightly to look at him. She lifted a hand timidly to rest against his cheek. Her voice was awe-struck and husky when she spoke. "Can this truly be happening to me? You're unlike anyone I've ever met. Am I making believe I see in you a man to perfect to be really true? Who are you?"
Georg gently took that hand and rested it over his heart; the beating was strong. Looking into her eyes, his tone matched hers. "I am the man who loves you."
Maria's eyes widened; time seemed to stop all around them. Her voice was almost a breath. "You . . . what?"
Taking a deep breath, Georg gently cupped her face with his hands and never broke his gaze with her. Now his tone was soft, but left no doubt to his sincerity. "I am in love with you, Maria Rainer. I know now I've loved you since the day I met you, though it took me a long time to fully realize it. Whatever path you choose in life, Maria, I need you to know: nothing can stop me from loving you. With all my heart, I do."
Now Maria seemed to freeze, and her voice vanished from her throat for the first time in her life. She closed her eyes and tried to find it, but she couldn't. Completely speechless. She was overwhelmed by what she had just heard, what had just happened. This was too good to be true . . .
Georg seemed to understand the state she was in, and gently wrapped his arms around her, and she collapsed against his body, holding on to him. His warmth surrounded her, and she felt like she was in the warmest, safest cocoon. As he held her, Georg's word echoed in her mind and registered as the truth: Captain Georg von Trapp is in love with me. She smiled into his shoulder and held him tight, needing reassurance she was not dreaming, and his arms tightened as well.
How long they stood there, on their little island, just holding each other close as their hearts became one, they didn't know. It could have been forever. But when an owl hooting coincided with a strong breeze, Georg sighed. "It's getting late," he whispered, pulling back to look at her. "We should head back."
Maria sighed, too, and nodded. She still hadn't gotten her voice back, and she felt dazed.
Georg gently kissed the tip of her nose and led her back to the boat, again helping her in. After folding up the blanket, bringing the small anchor back in, and seating himself, Georg began the journey back. They were silent as he rowed them back to the dock, but content. No words needed to be spoken as they looked at each other.
They walked back into the villa, each with an arm around the other, Maria's head on Georg's shoulder.
Once inside, they stopped and faced each other. In the past, when they'd taken walks outside, they'd always parted there, because here their paths separated to opposite sides of the house toward their respective rooms. For the first time, Maria realized that Georg had done this on purpose in order to assure her he would never follow her to her room and give her the wrong impression.
The small revelation made Maria's eyes tear up, and Georg immediately held her to him again, one hand resting on her back and another stroking the back of her neck. "Unfortunately, I must say good-bye now. I'll be gone before you wake up."
Finally, she seemed to find her voice, but all she could say in a small voice was, "I don't want you to go."
Georg kissed her head, and murmured into her hair, "I don't want to go, either. But I promise, I will stay no longer than I need to. I will be thinking of you each day, and dreaming of you each night."
A shiver went up Maria's spine, knowing the same would be true for her. He pulled back, and gently kissed her closed eyes. Bringing his lips to hers, he murmured, "Sweet dreams, my love" and kissed her lips gently, lingering as long as he could before any self-control could escape him, before letting her go.
Their hands were the last to part, and both walked to their rooms without looking back, afraid if they did they would rush into each other's arms and never let go.
Once Maria was in her room and the door was closed, she changed out of her dress and into her nightgown, still in a daze or dream state. Only when in bed did her daze lift and she felt exhaustion catch up with her. She thought over this twenty-second birthday of hers, and concluded it to have been the best day of her life. And the day that had broken the last barrier between her mind and heart.
The last thought in Maria's head and heart before falling into sleep was this: He is in love with me . . . and I am in love with him.
A/N: One might be surprised to find where the song "Ce Rêve Bleu" comes from; I know I was familiar with the English version for a very long time. Just go to Youtube and you'll see what I mean. :)
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