Maybe it's just me, but it always bothered me that the movie skipped over so much of Maria's time with the von Trapp children while Georg was away in Vienna. Of course, I can understand why it had to be done that way for plot purposes, but in this story, I try to take a really longer, closer look at Maria and the kids getting to know each other and spending time together. There are outings, games, meals, misadventures, lazy summer days, and more.

This is also probably just me, but I think that this fandom sees a lot of Georg/Maria stories. I'm not complaining because most of them are very good, but I've always felt that the kids get overlooked. So as a disclaimer, this story starts when Maria first arrives at the villa, and about 40,000 words later, it ends when Georg returns home from Vienna. So for the majority of it, Georg is away, and Maria is annoyed with him for being such an absent father and assumes that he and the Baroness will be getting married in the near future. After reading so many Georg/Maria stories, I kinda enjoyed writing something that does not move into their romance. This story is currently the longest thing I've ever written, and since it took me five years, it's unlikely to ever be surpassed. :)

Prologue

"I shall tell Captain von Trapp to expect you tomorrow."

That night, in her little room in the Nonnberg Abbey, Maria lay awake for a long time. Her narrow bed and thin mattress weren't very comfortable – luxuries of any kind were forbidden in the convent – but that wasn't the reason why she couldn't sleep. Her mind was much too busy to feel tired, busy wondering and worrying what the von Trapp family might be like. That evening, she had packed her few worldly possessions into her old carpet bag and secured her guitar safely into its case. They were waiting by the door of her room now, with her straw hat sitting on top, all ready to leave tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning! It felt much too soon and an eternity away, all at the same time. Maria tossed and turned, and stared at the moonlit shadows on the ceiling, and fretted. What she'd told the Reverend Mother was true: she was very fond of children. As a teenager, she earned a little pocket money for herself looking after younger children in her neighborhood, and she'd always enjoyed it... but that was so long ago, and she had serious doubts about her ability to manage seven children at once. Oh, what she would've given to know more about the children who would be her charges — How many were boys, and how many girls? How old were they? What were they like? — but the Reverend Mother could tell her only the barest details.

She had said that the children's mother had died several years ago, so that meant that the littlest child had to be at least several years old – five or six, perhaps, which would mean that the oldest one was likely an early teenager, at least. Oh, teenagers could be such moody, surly things. Maria cringed at the thought of being a governess to even one, and depending on how spaced out the children were, she could very well have two or more on her hands. Why, she barely felt older than a teenager herself! How would she ever be able to enforce any discipline?

Maria sighed, kicked her covers off restlessly, and got up out of bed. She crossed her room to the tiny window in the wall and peered sternly at her reflection. She could only see her reflection in the window pane anymore, for no mirrors were allowed in the abbey. They lead to vanity, and vanity is a sin, Sister Berthe had explained.

"Tomorrow's an important day," Maria said firmly to her reflection. "You must have a proper night's sleep."

She supposed that if she were a proper postulante, she would soothe her worried mind by opening up her Bible and reading some pretty verses. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to act like a proper postulante at all, and so instead of reaching for her Bible, Maria opened up her guitar case.

She didn't play a full song; she only strummed some simple chords and hummed along. It was so reassuring to Maria to know that she'd at least have her guitar with her when she set out for the von Trapps' tomorrow morning. It felt just like bringing along an old friend, someone who would be on her side and help her win over those children. There had to be at least one among the seven who loved music and singing.

Playing the guitar relaxed her, as it always did, and as she played, Maria's mind wandered away from the children and settled on their father. A retired sea captain! It sounded so exciting. Maria had never known a sea captain before. She pictured him looking like a sailor, with a warm, laughing face. Of course, she'd never known any sailors, either — Salzburg was so very far from the sea — but sailors in books were always such jolly characters, tanned and brawny and full of jokes.

Maria played a while longer, and her mental image of the Captain grew sharper. She saw a cheerful little house crawling with children, all loudly playing and making messes. She imagined a handsome, hapless sailor in the middle of it, perhaps holding the littlest one on his hip, a loving father but overwhelmed with trying to manage so many children on his own.

The sound of music did the trick, as it always did, and when Maria tucked her guitar back into its case, she felt better about everything. She slipped back into her bed and fell asleep easily.

Her fantasies about life with the von Trapps had seemed so pleasant in her dark, moonlit room at the convent, but they came toppling down — one by one, like domino pieces — in the harsh sunlight of the next day. The first one to crumble was her image of the cheerful little house. She'd even pictured a garden in the front yard of it, with flowers and vegetables growing all untidly together.

Her first glimpse of the von Trapp mansion through the front gates stopped her dead in her tracks. Maria didn't know when she'd ever seen a house so huge, and she'd certainly never set foot in one. The Reverend Mother hadn't mentioned that this family was filthy rich. For several seconds, she could just stand there and gape, her mouth hanging open, fighting the urge to turn and run back straight to the abbey, as all her confidence drained out of her. She only collected herself when she realized that one of the children could be watching her right now, peeking out from the curtains and snickering at the new governess.

All of her fantasies went crashing down that day, but none of them crashed as hard as her image of Captain von Trapp as a jolly sailor. That one positively crashed and burned. She had imagined him smiling, tan and brawny, and when she first saw him in person, so stern and sharply-dressed, she had never felt more foolish or naive. Of course, it didn't help that the first time they saw each other, he found her pretending to dance in his off-limits ballroom, like some stupid, love-struck teenager. It also didn't help that she'd already made a ninny of herself for assuming that a man this wealthy would answer his own front door and greeting the butler as if he were the famed Captain. He'd looked offended with her just for shaking his hand. And it certainly didn't help that the dress she wore was apparently so hideous that the Captain had wanted her to change, and then one of the children had told Maria right to her face that it was the ugliest dress she'd ever seen.

The one part of her fantasies that had come true — the only thing that she'd gotten right — was that the Captain was handsome. No, he looked nothing like she'd imagined him, but still, in his own... severe sort of way, he was handsome. She realized that as she followed Frau Schmidt upstairs to her room, after she'd gotten over the shock of finding a toad in her pocket, an unwelcome present from the seven children who were now her charges. Until September.

The large, gold-framed mirror on the landing of the stairs was another shock. Maria had not seen herself in a mirror in a long time, and she startled a bit, caught off-guard by her own reflection. The shock of the frog was still obvious on her face, and she hated the overwhelmed look in her eyes. Had she looked like this in front of the Captain and his children? So obviously defeated? Maria paused in front of the mirror and took a deep breath. She wasn't beaten, not yet, and she refused to look it. She squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes until she was satisfied with her reflection again, and repeated the words that she'd sung to herself on her journey here from the abbey.

Besides what you see, I have confidence in me.