"It will be very interesting one day to follow the pattern of our life as it is spread out like a beautiful tapestry. As long as we live here we see only the reverse side of the weaving, and very often the pattern, with its threads running wildly, doesn't seem to make sense. Some day, however, we shall understand. In looking back over the years we can discover how a red thread goes through the pattern of our life: the Will of God." ~ Maria Von Trapp, Story of the Trapp Family Singers

EPILOGUE

"Maria," he finally managed to utter. "It's not too late. Please tell me it's not too late."

"Oh, darling, no," she cried as she flew into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her tear soaked cheek to his. "It's not too late. It's not too late at all."

She felt his arms move to hold her and the last of her reserve disappeared. It was real. She could feel Smitty in the way he held her. She pulled away from him just enough to look into his eyes. She reached up and held his face, wiping a tear with her thumb.

"I… remember everything."

"I know, I know," she laughed over her tears. "I see it in your eyes. I can feel it, too. Oh, how I've longed for this day! Not just so you'd remember me, but… I couldn't bear to see you so unhappy. And now you are happy, aren't you? You're not disappointed that it's me?"

"Disappointed? Maria, my love," he said, brushing the hair from her face, dragging his fingers gently down her cheek until they crossed her chin. "I mean, I remember everything. Not just my life here with you, but… how, after everything, you found me and you stayed."

"Don't make it sound so noble, darling. I've always told you that I'm very fond of you," she smiled, still trying to catch her breath. "I needed to be with you, Georg. I love you."

"And I love you, my Maria… my Maria," he said, the words as sweet to hear as they were to say. He paused only briefly to decide that he could dare to kiss her. He brought her face closer and covered her lips with his own, thrilled to feel her kiss him in return. It was wonderfully familiar and breathtakingly new. When they parted, she dropped her head against his shoulder.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked. Maria didn't hear any contempt in his question, rather there was amazement, almost admiration in his tone. Her blue eyes looked up at him, fresh tears spilling down her face.

"I couldn't… I was afraid," she finally answered. "But I was never sure about it… even now, I think maybe you would have been spared so much if I told you." He shook his head and pulled her back into his arms.

"Don't. The regret is all mine," he said with a touch of self-loathing. "When I think about everything you had to go through, all alone because of me…" His voice faded into emotion.

"You had to go back! The children needed you," she cried into his chest. "Don't be sorry, you couldn't stop it. I don't know why everything happened the way it did and I won't deny that there were times I almost gave up believing I would ever have you back. But there was always hope. There is always hope."

Late Spring 1938

The decision to leave Austria was made. Georg knew he could refuse Hitler only so many times before there would be consequences. Maria agreed and the children understood. But they wanted to bide a little longer, until the winter snows melted. There was still one more place to go and one more memory to visit before they left it all behind.

When that day came, they returned to Frau Engel's inn and woke the next morning early enough to catch the sunrise. Maria took her place on Georg's arm as they headed up the trail to their spot on the mountain. They reminisced about the other sunrise, about all the moments together spent there. Maria told him gently how she would come there after he disappeared and empty herself of all her sorrow and then pray for his return.

It seemed only fitting that she would lay their son to rest there. She led him to the place, near the tree overlooking the meadow where the wildflowers grew. They stood side by side for the unspoken introduction of father to son.

Barely a minute passed before Georg dropped to his knees in front of the humble marker. It was difficult and surreal to mourn a child he never knew, but as he gently placed his hand on the grass that covered his son the grief became real and raw. Maria finally joined him, and together their tears fell silently to the ground.

"He looked so much like you," she said softly. "He had your eyes. And I think he would have looked a lot like Kurt when he grew up. I thought that the first time I saw the children, and how they were so beautiful… and he was beautiful, too. I named him after you. I know it really wasn't your name, but you understand that, don't you? Even now it still seems appropriate." Georg nodded as he took her hand in his to comfort her. She had already told him these things many times, but he never tired of hearing them and he knew that it helped her to say them.

"You were a good mother to him, Maria. I'm not sure how to express my gratitude that you loved him."

"He wasn't so small, really, but so helpless… especially when he got sick," she continued, choking back a sob. "I'm so sorry, Georg. I didn't do enough… I'm sorry I failed."

"Please don't say that, Maria. I could never blame you and I won't let you blame yourself either. It was enough. You couldn't have done any more than you did and it does no good to wonder about it. He was born and he was loved. You gave him everything he needed until he didn't need it anymore. Please, darling… from now on, let's remember him with thankfulness and smiles, not sorrow and tears."

She nodded, wrapped herself around his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His words were a comfort and before she could stop herself she began to smile.

"Thank you, Georg. I needed to hear that."

He thought he should be thanking her. There was a time when he didn't know how to mourn except to let the grief devour him. She changed that. He would never go back to the way he was, shutting out everything good to keep from feeling the pain. It tore him up that he wasn't there for her when their son died. But they were together now and the sorrow was easier to bear for it.

"Did I tell you that I used to sing to him all the time? He never cried when I sang to him. He was such a good boy. I will always be proud of him." Georg was glad to finally hear more confidence and peace in her voice. He took her hands from around his arm and helped her stand so they could hold each other.

"The sun is almost up," he said, turning her in his arms so she could take it in. She leaned against him with a contented sigh. He lower his arms around her waist and rested his hands on her stomach. She placed hers lovingly on his. They watched the colors of the sky brighten over the mountains, waking the village below.

"It's beautiful. I'm glad we came," she replied. "From here the world looks to be at peace." Georg gave a sound of agreement, but there was a tinge of sorrow.

The world was not at peace. Even the small town, which always seemed so removed from everything, blazed red. The Nazi flag met them as soon as they arrived, hanging all around the square. Even the inn displayed one, large and grotesque. It was all Georg could do not to pull the thing down and tear it into pieces. But he didn't because their reasons for coming were too important.

"Do you think we'll ever see Austria again?" Maria asked after a few moments, knowing where his mind had drifted.

"I don't know. I hope so," he sighed sadly, but added with resolve. "Austria is not dead. It is alive in our hearts. This is only a sleep." Maria turned in his arms once again to embrace him. When they decided to leave their beloved homeland, she reminded Georg that the burden didn't have to be his alone.

And after everything they went through to be together, he knew he would never doubt it. He could more than trust her with his biggest fears. In fact, holding her made him realize his fears weren't so big after all. He lifted her chin so he could gaze into her eyes. He still thought she had the softest blue eyes he had ever seen. And she still smiled with her whole face, a face he couldn't resist kissing again and again.

They turned toward the grave one last time. They would carry him to America in their hearts and for always. He was a child born of a love that dared to stand in the face of his uncertain memory. They took the chance and promised each other no regrets. They would only remember it all with gratitude and delight.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, putting his hand on her stomach again. She was hardly showing, but he could feel the swell of life growing beneath his hand. Heaven's blessings kept coming. The future was no more certain, but this child represented a love and hope restored. A new life for a new life.

"Mercifully, not too bad. I might even attempt a little tea and toast this morning," she answered, beaming as she took the arm he offered before starting the descent down the trail. Oh, how he hoped he never got used to the feeling of her holding him. Always when he needed it. And he needed it always.

"Tea with jam and bread," he mused with a chuckle.

Blessings, indeed.

A/N: Georg was hopeless when he boarded that train, lost before it ever left the station. Maria was on her own journey, searching for open windows and a place to belong. Yes, there was an accident, but out of the wreckage came a mountain sunrise, a rented cottage, two hearts, one love, all set to music. But when they recall that time, as wonderful as it was, they know it couldn't end there. A family needed to be restored. And a Captain needed to discover that what he had was more important that what he lost. And a grieving mother needed children to fill her empty arms.

Sometimes when we come through flood waters and fiery trials, there is a gift; the ability to look back and see how the events unfolded toward a grand resolution, like that moment of a symphony when the different instruments play against one another in a crescendo of tension that never seems to end. But it does end, and there is so much beauty born of it, not the least of which is faith and hope renewed.

It is a gift because hope is not our natural reaction when bad things happen. And sometimes bad things happen that are too difficult for our finite minds to comprehend. A mother of seven children falls to scarlet fever. Another mother holds her baby long enough to fall in love with him, but not long enough to watch him grow. The machinations of an evil man is permitted to flourish for so long, ravaging a continent and devastating a people. At those times, hope is the only thing that can comfort us.

We also need hope for the future, for if we can look back and see how we not only survived but were gently carried at the hardest times, we can climb every mountain.