A Time of Gossip

Over the next few weeks, life had settled into somewhat of a routine for those living in the Von Trapp Villa. After spending a day with each of his children, Georg spent as much time with the children as he could each summer day as July changed to August. He especially took pride in helping with their studies, because there he felt a little more competent: Though he always joined in their games whenever they asked, he had to work to keep up with their energy level the longer they played; and when it came to music, he felt even less confident, especially when he compared himself to their teacher.

Each day, Georg grew closer to his children, and the household was relatively happy. But something was missing, something crucial, and everyone knew what it was. Each day, Georg would be asked by at least three of his children if Fraulein Maria was coming back or if he had apologized to her. It broke his heart to say 'no' each time, but he couldn't bear to give his children false hope.

Georg made an effort to see Maria so often it became part of the regular routine: At three o'clock each day, Georg would arrive at the abbey and ring the bell; Sister Margaretta would come to the gate and tell him that Maria did not want to see him yet; Georg would hand her a note he'd written for Maria, nod politely and leave. He latched onto the word 'yet' the sister would use; Maria would have to see him eventually, if only to tell him to stop coming. He just needed to see her with his own eyes, to make sure she was all right, and apologize even if she didn't want to hear it. He had to try, for his children's sake and for his own.

In the meantime, he heard about her indirectly by the correspondences that his children were keeping with her. Occasionally, he would allow one of them to come with him on one of his daily visits; he would wait in the car while his child would spend an hour with their Fraulein. He didn't dare insist he be there with them.

She also, it turns out, kept up a less frequent correspondence with Max, starting with a letter of gratitude she had sent him a few days after the day. Max, who was as eager for her forgiveness as Georg was, wrote in each letter how miserable and sorry Georg was about what he did – which was the truth. Georg greatly appreciated it: never once had Maria responded to any one of his daily notes. For all he knew she never read them.

And so life went on, satisfying on the surface but a gaping hole beneath the surface for everyone. All waited for a resolution they were beginning to fear would never come...

There is a sermon, perhaps the most famous in both Catholicism and other cultures – with a variation here and there – that deals with one of the ten commandments: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

A woman gossips with a friend about a man she barely knows. That night, she has a dream that a giant hand from above is pointing down at her, accusingly. Distressed by the dream and guilty about what she had said, she consulted the local priest. "Is gossiping a sin?" she asked. "Was that the hand of God pointing down at me? Did I sin?"

"Yes," replied the priest. "You ignorant woman! You bore false witness against your neighbor and should be ashamed of yourself."

So the woman confesses her sin and repented through the sacrament of reconciliation. Just as she was about to leave, the priest said, "Not so fast. You still have to do one more thing. Tomorrow morning, after you wake up, take your pillow and a knife and go to the roof. Cut open the pillow with that knife, then come back here to me to tell me what happened."

So the woman did as the priest asked, and returned to him the following morning.

"So, did you do all that I asked?" asked the priest.

"Yes, Father," replied the woman.

"And what happened?"

"Feathers…feathers everywhere, father, like so many snowflakes."

"Good…now, go out and collect every single feather that escaped the pillow when you cut it open."

"But," said the woman, shocked. "That can't possibly be done! The wind took them all over, I have no idea where they all went."

The priest gave a grave nod. "And that is gossip."*

Maria had heard this sermon within a year of coming to the abbey, and, like with all sermons she heard, took it to heart as best she could. She had never gossiped in her life, anyway.

But Elsa Schraeder had never heard that sermon, let alone been in church since her first husband's funeral. And gossiping was one of her main talents and joys. And before leaving Salzburg, she had used that gift to her full advantage when she made plenty of phone calls. They didn't last too long; she knew that all she had to do was give the dogs a small piece of meat – all would pounce. And when she returned from Vienna, she continued her gossip to her friends, where she received quite a bit of sympathy.

The man who had made intentions to her for marriage while fucking the governess behind her back…of course she would get sympathy, because they believed the story to be true.

*This sermon can be found in the play and movie "Doubt" by John Patrick Shanley. But, as a Catholic myself, I have heard this sermon in church - everyone uses it, so I can too.

A/N: I know in the past I've portrayed Elsa in a positive light. In this one she is human still but nastier, as you have gathered from above. Hopefully this didn't shock you too badly as I put in some hints in previous chapters she would do this.

Also, my faithful readers, I need you all to tell me your opinion: I've been completely torn about whether to bring in one of my original characters for this story - you all know him from my first story and my four-act story. I would love to bring him back, but if you don't want that, I won't. The story could work either way. Please review and let me know!