Chapter 21:

A Part of Something Greater

Georg could hardly retain anything of what was being said by his fellow officers. He knew just outside the confines of the submarine, the beautiful scenery of his homeland was waiting for him. Not to mention, he was incredibly anxious to see his fiancée, although he would probably not get that chance until their actual wedding.

Georg had been slightly jealous when Heinrich was excused early with the rest of the crew, permitted to go home a day prior than Georg would be allowed to. His position as a Captain had its drawbacks, although it was well worth it.

He was now in a conference of sorts with other officers in the fleet, supposed to be paying attention to what they were telling him, but God help him, he couldn't follow one word. There was a constant flow of bliss through his mind as he thought of the days to come. Agathe was going to be his wife. It was almost more inconceivable now than it had been when he first asked her to marry him.

He surreptitiously gazed at the men around him - they were so much older than he was...many were past middle age, and the majority were over fifty. The admiral in particular was wholesomely intimidating, sitting at the head of the table in the cramp quarters, looking something like an Egyptian Pharaoh in the cool, gold light. Georg felt a moment of insecurity sitting before them, now, even as his youth often went unrecognized.

Georg glanced at his watch discreetly, and reached for his glass of water. His throat was still sore from yelling orders, he noticed absently with a smirk.

Georg was obviously not claustrophobic by nature, but after spending months in a confined space, six-hundred feet under the sea, he was getting a little more than a hint of the feeling.

The minutes dragged by until finally, he was released from the meeting. He tried not to look too eager in his escape as he fled from the ship, jumping gracelessly from the hatch and down the ladder onto the station dock.

He breathed in the fresh air from the sea, his eyes struggling to adjust to the sunlight in a painful, though not unpleasant process. Making his way through the crowd, he looked up the hillside at the grandiose silhouette of the cathedral that stood at the top - tomorrow the sacrament of holy matrimony would be his and Agathe's to claim at last, in that very church.

"Welcome home, Captain." The driver's polite voice came from the front seat of the car as he pulled into the driveway of his Aunt and Uncle's house. Georg didn't even wait for the driver to stop before climbing out of the car.

He was greeted by the unexpected shouts from a child rushing eagerly down the front steps towards him, "Georg, you're back!"

Agathe's young brother had grown at least five inches since Georg last saw him. "Hello, Michael! When did you get here?" For a fleeting second, he wondered if that meant Agathe was somewhere in the house as well...

"Mum sent me over yesterday morning - there's too many girls at my house." He explained distastefully.

Georg chuckled richly at the boy's expression. He bent down to playfully place his officer's hat on Michael's head, "What a nightmare that must be!" He said with humoring passion. It was not entirely untrue, as he thought briefly of how Agathe's house was no doubt swarming with her gaggling friends the entire week. But he would have gladly braved the chaos for a chance to see her beautiful face, if even for a moment...

"Did you sink lots of ships?" The child asked him excitedly. Georg's eyes turned down to watch Michael's vain attempts to adjust the hat upon his small head, as it insisted on covering his eyes at every angle.

He stifled a laugh and said proudly, "So many I lost count!"

"More than a hundred?" Michael guessed energetically as he jumped up the steps two at a time.

"Something like that." Georg settled as he nudged his admirer towards the door.

As Georg had expected, the arms of his aunt promptly flew around him upon his entry. "Oh, my darling. We were so worried about you..."

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "But Heinrich... he came back early - surely he told you I was fine." He struggled in her surprisingly firm grip to allow air to pass through his lungs.

Her voice hardened in anger as she explained aversely, "Yes, Heinrich had some good fun with us when he came back. Indeed." She wiped a wayward tear from her cheek.

The corner of Georg's mouth twitched upward in realization. "Oh, Aunt Moni, he didn't."

"Yes he did! He came stalking through that door, with one of your torn jackets..." She waved her hands in a flustered gesture and brought them back to frame her cheeks. "Oh darling, it was so cruel. I almost told him that he couldn't come to the wedding!" Some of the initial anger crept back into her voice.

That would have been good news to return home to, Georg thought amusedly.

"Well, as you can see now, I'm perfectly fine." He said reassuringly as he could without laughing.

"Yes." She stepped back to smile fondly at him, then patted his shoulder. "Agathe will be so pleased to hear from you - there hasn't been a day this week that she failed to call." She made her way into the kitchen, and he followed her with Michael trotting on his heels behind him. "She even settled for talking to Heinrich for a whole hour yesterday just to ask him about you."

He found himself grinning like a poor lovesick teenager at the mention of Agathe's name. "Is that so?" He hoped Heinrich hadn't tried to pull the same trick on Agathe as he had on Monica.

"Odelle says she's as high-strung as a hummingbird, poor dear." Monica said airily as she carefully removed a tray from the oven.

"He he - Aggie's a hummingbird!" Michael giggled tauntingly to himself as he waltzed giddily around the dining table.

"Oh, we're all a bit over-excited, I suppose." She said helplessly as her eyes followed Michael's dizzying circle.

Georg sat himself down by the edge of the counter and watched as she trimmed the crust of the pie she was baking with a knife.

"Where is Heinrich?" He asked curiously as he watched her bend over to slip the tray back into the oven.

The metallic echo of her voice responded from beside the oven, "He's out with your uncle - they're getting their suits fitted for tomorrow. I told Albrecht to go sooner but he always waits until the last minute, the old fool."

Georg sniffed with silent laughter.

She straightened herself up and brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen from her Dutch braided crown. Although his family was rich enough to afford a cook or even two for their household, his aunt had always been insistent on doing all of the cooking herself. He never stopped to find it endearing before, but the sight of her in the kitchen again brought him an odd sort of comfort. He wondered if Agathe would cook when they were married... He couldn't see her wanting to get her hands sticky with molasses, or her clothes dusted with flour. It was an entertaining thought, even if it was never to happen.

"I had the rings ordered last week as well." Monica added casually as she washed her hands in the sink.

Something stung Georg slightly as he remembered the regret he initially felt at not being able to purchase an engagement ring for Agathe before he left her again. She had told him over and over again that she didn't care if he never gave her another piece of jewelry for as long as they lived, but he still insisted on feeling guilty about it. After they were married, he would tell her to take along an empty suitcase on their honeymoon which he planned to fill completely with diamond rings - perhaps one for every day they had been apart.
He had regretably had much of the work cut out for him when it came to the organization of their wedding, the purchase of their own home, the plans for their honeymoon... They had all been taken care of by Agathe, her mother, his aunt and uncle. That was what happened when he was not present during these busy times. It was not something he liked, but it was inevitable because of what he was. He himself had made a sacrifice by serving in the war, not only for his country, but for his family as well. And that was what Agathe was now - his family.

He looked up briefly and caught his aunt staring at him. She turned the faucet off and said softly to him, as though reading his thoughts, "She's happy enough just to be marrying you, Georg."

He gave her a weak, but appreciative smile. Still it wouldn't hurt to make it up to his new wife, would it? Of course, Agathe being the kind woman she was, would most likely refuse his offers. Their honeymoon would not be all about jewelry though, nor did he want it to be...

"Now!" He snapped back to life as Monica clapped her hands and called for Michael. "Where is my ring bearer?"

The boy promptly ran up to her with outstretched hands.

She reached for a lacy white pillow on a high shelf and dusted it off before setting it in his tiny palms. She then placed two small coins on top of the pillow in place of rings, and ordered him to walk the length of the room and back without letting the coins slip from the pillow.

"He's been practicing all afternoon!" She exclaimed proudly as Michael balanced himself in a wavering pace.

"You're doing quite well, Michael." Georg said encouragingly, putting forth considerable effort to mask his wince at the boy's tendency to stumble.

"I'm still not perfect." He responded with a pout.

"Well, there's always room for improvement," Monica said brightly as she ruffled his hair. "We'll just have to keep on practicing, won't we?"

Michael shrugged and turned tentatively to Georg, a look of fright in his young eyes. "Heinrich said if I dropped the rings, you'd make me a permanent resident of..of...Davy Jones' locker."

"Why, of all the preposterous -!" Monica burst incredulously, her hands flying up to her heart in a most comical display that would have been more appropriate on a theater stage. "Georg would never dream of doing such a thing to you, dear. Don't you listen to my son - he's got the worst tongue on him, that one!" She slapped the counter animatedly with a dishcloth. "Hoo, I'll prepare a nasty punishment for him if he dares to speak another word of such nonsense to you again!"

Georg's laughter subsided as he imagined just what sort of 'nasty punishment' she had in mind. A transient string of memories surfaced in his mind as he remembered how his own father used to scrub his tongue with soap whenever he caught Georg lying to him. If he thought hard enough, he could still recall the brutally bitter taste in the back of his mouth...

He took a deep breath and swept the memories away - now was not the time to be thinking of such things. He was in the midst of the most joyous time of his life, and with people who loved him dearly.

"I don't take well to you boys and all of your silly seafaring talk...All this about making each other walk the plank and Davy Jones and...and..." His aunt said as she distractedly began wiping the counter clean. "How would it be if the next time one of you gets on my last nerve, I threaten to...feed you to an octopus!"

Georg brought his hand to his chin to quickly cover his laughter. "I don't think it works for you, Moni." He said politely.

"Such inappropriate...rubbish.." She muttered under her breath as she ran her hands under the sink again.

After innocently surveying the scene, Michael proclaimed in a lordly tone, "When I'm old enough, I'm going to join the Navy, too!"

"Oh, don't you get caught up in this nautical nonsense as well!" Her warning chides went unnoticed by Michael, who continued dancing around the table again, eagerly listing the feats he expected to accomplish.

"I'm going to sink submarines and shoot pirates and collect shark teeth and -"

"How glamorous he makes it sound." Georg remarked softly to his aunt, who merely gave him a look of disapproval.

She sighed and turned back to seek refuge by her oven.

Taking it as his cue to leave, he stood from his seat. "I suppose I should telephone Agathe, now." He murmured to her back as he retreated from Michael's noisy display.

The evening before his wedding day, Georg did more thinking than he had ever done in his life in just a few hours. When he thought of it on unspecific terms, the act of entering a marriage willingly seemed utterly nerve-wracking and even careless on his part. But when he reminded himself of that breathtaking young woman with whom he was entering the sacred union, it suddenly became a most bearable idea.

He was, admittedly, slightly afraid when he allowed himself to recognize the foreign feeling. Someone depended on him. Someone would rely on him almost completely for the rest of his life. And it would not even be only one person, with a bit of time. This was not a commitment one could enter by enlisting, or escape by resigning. There was no training to prepare oneself for a marriage; no ranking system he could use to measure his success. But there would be conflicts, battles he would have to fight to keep up with his partner. He knew he was not a coward enough to abandon her, but he did not deny himself that it would be a challenging experience, no matter how easy it seemed now.

His mind churned with the same redundant arguments all through the night. It was as if he had Socrates and Glaucon in his own head, their repetitive persiflage resound in his ears as they fruitlessly analyzed his ability to commit in this marriage.

'So suppose this marriage were to occur as planned, and the groom were to carelessly abandon his wife to be at the altar. Do we agree that he would be making quite a fool of himself if he were to act in this way?'

'Most certainly, Socrates.'

'And what of his bride? Would she not react with devastation at her groom's behavior?'

'I can see no reason to think otherwise.'

'And what of his family and those in attendance? Shall we say that they, too, would display disapproval toward his actions?'

'Undoubtedly, they would indeed.'

'And this man would most certainly live in shame for the rest of his life if he were to engage in said behavior?'

'That is very true.'

'We have, then, established a fair case by which to claim that this man should avoid, by every means possible, questioning his commitment to this marriage.'

'Naturally, Socrates.'

Georg sighed and preceded to cover his face with the largest pillow within reach. It wasn't so much that he believed he would back out at the last minute, but he feared for Agathe's sentiments on the matter as well. Did she have her own uncertainties about this marriage? Did she doubt his ability to commit?

She had sounded content enough when he spoke to her on the telephone earlier.

He recalled the irresistible breathiness of her voice over the fuzzy speaker.

"I wish that we could be together tonight."

"It's only one more day."

"Well, I wish it would come faster. I miss you so deeply, Georg. Hearing your voice is not enough..."

What would be enough? Just how deeply had she missed him?

These were the thoughts that plagued his regretfully one-dimensional brain at the moment.

He had been curious about these things not long after they had been reintroduced. But being ninety-nine percent sure that she now shared his curiosity, he was disturbed by the only uncertainty left - his own capabilities as a husband.

This was not something that concrete calculations or a well-crafted conditional argument could help him through. He could make all the predictions he wanted, but the only way to test them would be to run the experiment. In the ideal world of mathematics and science, he would conduct as many trials as he needed to illicit proper justification. In life, he had only one. One trial, one chance, one time to make it work.

He turned onto his side, and pressed the pillow underneath his head. The darkness slowly grew thicker around him, and he welcomed it heartily as he felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier...

He pulled Agathe up the ladder to the submarine and watched her descend into the craft below him. He jumped in after her and followed her through the cramp doors, her melodious laughter echoing eerily through the narrow passageway. She climbed through the last door and happily sat herself on the end of his bed. She opened the croissant she held in her hands and out poured hundreds of sparkling diamond rings. "Oh, Georg! You shouldn't have!" She cried hysterically as she stood, waist-deep in the jewels.

He began to frantically dig her out of the growing pile of rings, but no matter how many he pushed out of his way, he couldn't reach her. The physical laws of displacement seemed to be non-existent. She appeared to be falling asleep, now...

No. He couldn't let her close her eyes...

Then a man appeared at his side, and began tossing small white flowers onto her body - It was Admiral Espart... and he was burying her with edelweiss. Georg tried to tell him to stop or else she would suffocate, but he only ignored him.

Georg shouted as he felt something hard and sharp hit him from behind. He turned around in startlement to see Reinhart's wide, white smile, holding a broken champagne bottle in his hand. "Hah ha! I have christened you, Captain!"

Georg fell to his knees, unable to bear the pain in his back. He opened his eyes and found himself in an open field of green grass. The sun was illuminating the small figure of a young girl running towards him with outstretched arms. "Papa! You're home!"

He reached urgently out for the little girl, but as he touched her, she disintegrated into a pile of pink dust at his feet. A strong gust of wind blew the dust in his face, and he coughed heavily, waiting for the air to clear.

Then, the form of a young woman with short blonde hair, dressed in a simple apron covered dress was visible before him in the field. She was singing. He was mildly hypnotized by her sweet voice, and his feet walked toward her of their own accord. She turned to smile brightly at him, her face a frustratingly faint but pleasant flash of washed out primary colors - and in that moment, everything vanished.

His eyes snapped open as he lay still in his bed, staring at the clock on his nightstand. The rays of sunlight streaming through his window warmed him as he pulled himself upright to sit on the edge of the mattress. What an odd dream that had been...

He remembered, for a split second, what it had consisted of - then suddenly, it slipped from his grasp. What had it been about, again?

Nothing. He could remember nothing from it at all. It was gone.

He had not even had a dream, he supposed.

It did not matter, anyway- something was important about today. What was it, what was it...?

Of course. Today was the day he was to be married to Agathe Whitehead.

His conscious self came rushing back to him at once. He had to get ready.

Georg struggled to keep still as his aunt buttoned up the front of his jacket in a painfully slow pace.

She had insisted on helping him get ready that morning, and although he had assured her that he was perfectly capable of dressing himself in his own uniform as he had countless times before, she would not take no for an answer.

"This may be the very last time I will put a jacket on you, darling. At least be a gentleman enough to humor me." She had said.

It was useless to fight her.

He stood as still as possible, listening to the singing of starlings outside the open window, their song for the first time sounding sweet to his ears.

"I still can't believe you're getting married." She murmured half to herself as she lingered on the last button near his collar. "It all happened so quickly."

He fidgeted, fighting back the urge to slip the damned button through himself.

"Aren't you finding it hard to believe yourself?" She asked almost pleadingly.

He answered her honestly as she finally finished with the last button. "I suppose I am..." The birds' song softened.

He could no longer feign blindness to the intense affection in her gaze. "You grow more handsome every day." She said with a sad smile, cocking her head as she looked up at him.

It was something he was used to hearing, especially from his own aunt. But for some mysterious reason, it felt so significant to him in that moment. He felt himself blushing marginally.

She resumed her predictable habit of straightening his collar. "You don't know how bittersweet it is for me to watch you, and Heinrich, growing up...becoming men. I still think of you as children sometimes." She let her hands slip down his shoulders and raised her eyes to his face again. "You are still so young." Her voice was hardly a whisper.

He shifted uncomfortably, and she moved to the mirror, speaking in hushed tones. "You don't realize it. I know that you think of yourself as fully matured at this moment, but... you will reach a certain age when you look back on this time of your life and see that you had so much still ahead of you. Your life is only just beginning now."

The impact of what she was saying hit him with the force of a cannonball. He had a taste of that notion before, with the realization that until he met Agathe, he never truly cared for anything, or put his full trust in anyone. Now that she had freed him from his own prison, he was able to live his life in a way he had previously feared. And it was a more difficult way to live...it had been easier when nothing affected him. But the sacrifice of being sensitive to those emotions had made it worth the hardships he had faced to get to this point.

He watched his aunt's eyes glisten in the reflection of the mirror, their color that of dewy shamrocks. "I often regret your having been in this war." She confessed quietly.

"That's no secret, Moni." He said with soft amusement, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Well, if it had been up to me, I wouldn't have let any of you go to that blasted academy!" She retaliated with vehement, albeit strangely weak passion, discreetly stroking the bed of her left eye with her knuckle.

"You never wanted us in the Navy, did you?" Georg gently stated more than asked.

"I never wanted it, heavens, no! But that doesn't mean that I didn't appreciate it." She told him with striking sincerity. She closed her eyes briefly as though suppressing an unknown pain. "It's so hard for a woman, Georg. Especially a mother, to watch her sons risk their lives. A wife to watch her husband leave..."

That was what he would be inflicting upon Agathe - she would be a wife, watching her husband leave. The message hit hard when he thought of it from a new perspective. It was difficult enough for him to leave her, but at least he had some control over whether he returned or not. He imagined the pain Agathe must have felt not knowing from day to day if he was even alive...

"But I don't regret it now, seeing what you have accomplished; what you have made yourself into." Monica said fondly, hesitantly touching the third gold band stitched across the cuff of his sleeve.

What he had made himself into...He had made himself into something. That was what he had done - in a crude way of putting it. He was still the same man beneath it all, no matter how many times his title changed.

"Your father would have been so painfully proud of you, Georg. God rest his soul. And your dear mother, too. She may very well have swooned at the sight of her own son in that uniform."

He laughed genuinely, relieved to veer from the serious direction the conversation was taking. His mother was nowhere near as formidable a memory to revive as his father. He remembered his mother much more vividly - her fair golden hair, her bright cheerful smile in her rosy face, the way she could relieve his every pain with the slightest touch of her slender hand, the way her voice could always comfort him no matter how hopeless he was feeling. She had been the perfect foil of his father.

"They would have been equally proud of you on your wedding day." She said driftingly.

He again shifted under her scrutinizing gaze.

Her eyes steadied at once, as she straightened herself up. She cleared her throat effectively; her voice filled with its characteristic robustness when she spoke. "You aren't going to get cold feet, now, are you?"

His eyes widened ever so slightly at her implication. "I love Agathe." His voice was exquisitely steadfast.

His aunt smiled as she brought the ring bearer's pillow out onto the vanity table.

"She is a perfect match for you. I knew it from the very beginning." Her green eyes twinkled purposedly, "And I know that you will treat her like the treasure she is. She's truly an angel."

"She is." He agreed wistfully. He thoughtfully stroked the cool, golden ring on the pillow. "And now she will belong to me..." He added, just beneath his breath. He hadn't meant for it to be audible at all, but his aunt's sharp ears had caught the slip.

"Yes, yes, she is yours...But you must remember now that you are also hers." Her voice was kind, but there was a hint of subtle admonishment implied.

He smirked lightly at her reminder. As much as he disliked the idea of being someone's possession, belonging to Agathe was something he didn't mind in the slightest. By the look on his aunt's face, he guessed she was well aware of that fact.

"A fortunate one, to have earned your tightly fastened affections." She said to him, not without a small dose of disfavor, as she dusted the front of his jacket using more force than was necessary. Stepping back to take in his finished appearance, she sighed heavily, "Oh, sweet Lord in heaven... you'll give her plenty of beautiful children. Dear, dear...God bless her." She discreetly fanned herself with the folded bulletin and turned to regard her reflection in the mirror again.

Georg found it mildly hilarious when she went off using her decorative religious exclamations. But her reaction just then had surprisingly made him slightly hot under the collar himself.

People were eyeing their marriage to produce a family quite...expectantly. And his aunt had implied that he would have not only some children, but plenty of them - whatever in God's name that meant.

He had never been so keen on having a large family before, but after all, they would be his children, wouldn't they? They had only to be either like him or Agathe...or both, which was not a bad combination if he said so.

He turned once more to catch his aunt's eyes severely trained on him. He could already tell she was going to go hysterical during this service - he would be immensely surprised if she made it past the "I do's" without shedding a tear.

But for the first time that morning, he was not hindered by any degree of compunction - no nerves to put a waver in his stride. He realized now that he would be a part of something greater than he had ever imagined he deserved. His marriage to Agathe, their unconditional love for each other, the family they would create together in the name of that love - that was infinitely greater than any victory he could claim in the war. No matter how much he loved his country, he would forever love her more.