AN: Hello! Here we are again... with another chapter! Thank you again and again for reading and reviewing the last one. That last one in particular took a lot of rewriting and I hope I did them justice. Let's get to this chapter shall we, before I start babbling again? lol
On Friday, Georg found himself driving a little uneasily from Alstadt to Aigen, Liesl sitting in the front seat and Maria in the back. He was hyperaware of her presence, of what they were about to do. Maria would return to the villa for the first time since leaving for the abbey, except she wouldn't know that. It may as well be her first time at all.
As they turned into the road lined with the distinct yellow Von Trapp wall, Maria slid closer to the window to marvel at the view. This time of year, the trees that lined the road were in full bloom, green and lush. She had missed it, almost forgotten how beautiful it was this side of Salzburg.
She had reminded herself multiple times over the week to be still. To relax. She had rehearsed her script, made sure her story was straight, and reminded herself constantly that she was to know absolutely nothing about the villa and its inhabitants. She knew it would be a difficult task, pretending not to know that Marta's favorite color was pink, that Brigitta read voraciously wherever she went, that Kurt hated math but was very much interested in learning how to cook, or how Gretl liked her greens cut up the size of her thumb for her to eat them. She'd known so many big and small facets about her charges, and she had forgotten none of them. It would be next to impossible to pretend she didn't know and love them already, and Brigitta in particular might pick up on it sooner than she'd like- she was astute as ever. But despite the worry, she was excited for the prospect of reuniting with them after two long years.
They reached the gates and Maria didn't even have to pretend to be surprised. The path to the entryway that once seemed so severe, so drab, was now lined heavily with lush foliage and flowers. It was so much more colorful, cheerfully complementing the yellow stone of the house's façade. She smiled wider as they drove to the front door, newly installed rose bushes just beneath the ground floor windows blooming beautifully. She had never seen such a sight, didn't think it would even be possible to transform the space once all stone save for the circular patch of green in the center.
"Oh, I can't believe this is where you live!" she exclaimed in awe, alighting from the vehicle, eyes sparkling with amazement at the transformation.
"It didn't always look like this," Liesl said as she sidled up next to her. "It used to just be concrete. But Louisa has been interested in plants and flowers over the past year or so. She planted a lot of these on her own."
Maria didn't know what to say. Perhaps she didn't know everything about the children, after all. Louisa's enthusiasm for the outdoors, for climbing trees (much like herself) had led to this.
"It's breathtaking," Maria admitted, finally catching Liesl's eyes and smiling. "I feel like I've walked straight into a storybook."
Liesl grinned up at her and then took her hand led her inside, Georg following them.
Georg had seen her reaction, the absolute enchantment written all over her face. Over the past year, seeing the flowers had been exciting, and then, routine, almost ordinary. It was always such a pleasure to experience things with someone who'd only seen it for the first time. But with Maria, it was an even grander experience. Her face registered nothing but pure and sincere enthusiasm, a sight Georg wanted to see over and over again.
As they stepped into the foyer, the rest of the children were already waiting for them. Georg could tell they were holding back their excitement, careful not to overwhelm Maria. They had been sternly warned not to catapult themselves into her arms, for fear of what it may evoke in Maria, and they obediently followed.
"Hello," Maria greeted warmly, eyes scanning each of the children and noticing the difference two years had made. Friedrich had grown so much taller, almost Georg's height. Louisa was slimmer, like she was growing less awkward about her femininity, growing into a woman. Kurt still had that boyish charm to him, but his cheeks were less full. And Brigitta, beautiful Brigitta, still had those inquisitive eyes now neatly hidden behind a pair of spectacles! She shouldn't have been surprised though—with her reading habits, she was bound to strain her eyes. And Marta, now surely 9 years old, looked shy and reserved but smiled back at her sweetly as their eyes met. And Gretl, dear Gretl, still a mass of cheeks and golden hair, suddenly bolting forward to hug her.
"Fraulein Maria! You've returned!" She clung on to Maria's waist tightly, finally unable to contain her excitement.
Maria smiled and kneeled so she could meet Gretl's eyes. "You must be Gretl."
The young girl nodded enthusiastically. "Look Fraulein, I lost a tooth!" she exclaimed, grinning brightly to show the she had, indeed, lost her front tooth.
"My, you're growing up!" Maria complimented, hugging Gretl to her.
Marta came shyly behind Gretl. "Hello, Fraulein Maria. I'm Marta."
Maria reached a hand and cupped the little girl's cheek. "Hello Marta. How do you do?"
"I've missed you," she admitted solemnly before taking Maria's hand in hers. "Will you be staying forever this time?"
Maria conjured a confused expression, half surprised by Marta's forwardness, half pretending to know nothing about what she meant by this time.
"Now, Marta, what did I tell you?" Georg interjected, looking squarely at her. It had been quite an orchestration to make sure the children betrayed nothing, and he hoped it didn't confuse Maria too much to be asked about before. If there was anything that could be said about all his efforts, it was that he was sincere. In fact, too sincere that it almost physically hurt.
"Sorry," Marta muttered, eyes avoiding Maria. Maria felt something tug at her heart, so she squeezed her hand in reassurance. Marta smiled in return.
"Do you remember me Fraulein Maria?" Brigitta asked she stepped forward. "I'm Brigitta."
"Brigitta," Maria repeated. "I'm pleased to meet you… again, I'm told." Eyeing the book in Brigitta's hand, Maria raised a brow. "What are you reading?"
"Little Women," Brigitta replied, unaware that Maria knew she'd read it at least three times in the summer she had spent with them.
"I'll have to read it myself then," Maria answered jovially.
"Oh, I can lend it to you, Fraulein. I'm sure you would love it."
"I'm certain I will."
"And this is Louisa," Brigitta said, pulling her sister closer.
"Ah, Louisa. The horticulturist," Maria teased, making Louisa blush. "I hear the flowers are your work."
Louisa shrugged shyly. "The gardener helped me with it."
"It looks magical," Maria admitted, earning herself an appreciative look from Louisa.
"I'm Kurt, and I'm still incorrigible," Kurt said as he moved towards Maria, offering a small kiss on her cheek.
Maria turned to him in amusement. "Still incorrigible?" she questioned.
Kurt nodded. "Fraulein Teresa called me that once. I think it's true."
"Well, what does incorrigible mean exactly?" Maria asked, eyes narrowing as if to tease him.
Kurt shrugged. "That I want to be treated like a boy." Beside him, Brigitta rolled her eyes. Maria stifled a laugh.
"And I'm still impossible," Friedrich grinned. "Not all the time, I'd like to think so," he amended. "I'm Friedrich, Fraulein. I put a frog in your pocket the first day we met. I promise I won't do that now."
Maria gave him a worried look and swallowed. "A frog?"
The boy nodded. "No frogs this time though," he said, raising his hands as if to prove he was hiding nothing.
Maria nodded warily. "It's nice to meet you, Friedrich."
Georg cleared his throat and then ushered them all to the dining room, the children's chatter filling his ears as they clamored over Maria's attention. It was heartwarming, seeing the children warm up to her so quickly, and how she welcomed them despite all she did not know about them. There was a warmth and brightness that emanated from her, one that very quickly filled the house without her even being aware of it.
They reached the dining hall and Kurt pulled Maria's seat out for her, putting her in her usual place at the end of the table.
"And here I thought I would always have a place at the end of the table," came a light, teasing remark from the entryway.
Maria recognized him immediately, but schooled her face to one of confusion. "Oh, I beg your pardon!"
"Nonsense," he said as he walked over to her. "I only kid. I'm Max Detweiler," he introduced himself, taking Maria's hand and kissing it lightly. "I'm Georg's 8th child, and it's lovely to meet you."
The children giggled at Max's introduction, and Maria grinned despite herself. "It's nice to meet you, Herr Detweiler."
Max winked and then took his usual seat beside Louisa. "We've met before," he said. "I wanted to get you to sing at the Salzburg Folk Festival. I'm always looking for new talent, you see."
Maria furrowed her brow, feigning ignorance. "The Salzburg Folk Festival?"
"Yes indeed! You have a beautiful voice, my dear. And I've seen you play the guitar once or twice. You would be a sensation."
"Oh, I'm afraid I don't do much of that anymore," she replied. It wasn't a lie, really. She'd found herself less inclined to sing after what had happened with Georg, somehow feeling too hollow to find words to put into music. She sang here and there, even played on the guitar, but not as much as she used to, and certainly not with the same gusto she once possessed. It was a tragedy, really. Music was in her soul. But there were times that the mere act of singing reminded her so much of this family, it was difficult to bring herself to sing any more than a few lines.
"What a pity," Max commented, oblivious to her thoughts. "We could make a fortune."
"Max, you could perhaps wait until dessert before harassing Fraulein Maria with talk of the festival," Georg reprimanded, forking a green leaf from his plate.
"Fine then," Max said convivially. "Perhaps you and the children would be interested in knowing what Fraulein Maria has been up to the past two years."
"Fraulein Maria lost her memory," Gretl interjected innocently.
"She fell from an apple tree," Marta continued. "Does that mean you don't remember anything, Fraulein Maria?" she asked, turning to her former governess.
"I'm afraid not, Marta," Maria replied contritely, casting the girl a woeful look.
"You don't remember that you were our governess?"
"Well, Liesl had told me as much," Maria attempted to explain. "And I'm very sorry to have forgotten you all—you all seem like exceptional children." It was guilt upon guilt settling in Maria's stomach now, bricks building a wall, and she was unable to fathom exactly how she was able to deny them when they had brought her nothing but joy.
Marta beamed at Maria's compliment. "You were wonderful too! Oh Fraulein Maria, you were even going to be our— ow!"
Maria's eyes whipped up to see Marta glaring at Friedrich.
"What was that for!"
"I'm sorry!" Friedrich answered hastily. "I thought I felt something move under the table—I was afraid it might be a rat."
"That was my foot!" Marta whined indignantly. "And you're not afraid of rats!"
"We don't have any rats, right father?" Gretl asked, her voice squeaky and betraying her worry.
"No darling, there are no rodents in this house," Georg reassured her, trying not to sound exasperated. He shot a quick grateful look to Friedrich before patting Marta on the back. "It's alright dear, Friedrich didn't mean to."
As Marta sulked, Maria had to hold back a chuckle. Oh, it was typical for the children to always get into petty fights at the table. But what made it more hilarious was knowing exactly what Marta was about to say. Friedrich, turning into a fine young man so quickly, had stepped on Marta's toe under the table to stop her from saying it.
Mother. She was going to be their mother. Suddenly sobering at the thought, Maria exhaled, taking a long sip of her water and stuffing her mouth with a salad green.
Max shot Georg an amused look before he turned his attention back on Maria. "Any young lads waiting in the wings, Fraulein?"
"Excuse me?"
Max shrugged. "You're young, attractive. Surely there's a lucky man at your beck and call. Perhaps you can bring him over for dinner some time."
The children exchanged worried glances while Max ignored the subtle glare Georg was throwing his way. If looks could kill, Max would definitely be on the cusp of death at this very moment.
Maria blushed scarlet, feeling her cheeks heat up at the question thrown for everyone to play witness to. "Oh no, no, not like that," she answered, flustered.
"No men, Fraulein?" Max pressed innocently.
"I only really spend my time at the dress shop," she admitted, proud of the way she kept her voice steady.
"And climbing apple trees!" Gretl chirped with a grin.
"Yes," Maria agreed, brushing the back of her hand gently against Gretl's cheek with a smile. "Not a lot of time for silly men," she said, making the young girl giggle.
"And why is that?"
Oh, Max was impossible! If this were any other time, Maria would have walked over and smacked him in the back of his head. Max was a tease—fiercely loyal to Georg, no doubt, but he liked to have his bit of fun. Tonight, it was Maria at the receiving end. Or maybe this was to tease Georg? Either way, it did not bode well for any of them.
Exhaling slowly, Maria shrugged. "I've not really been looking," she said. The children looked at her expectantly, as if asking her to elaborate on why.
Was that hope on their faces? Hope that perhaps, after all this time, she was kept available for their father?
Well, whatever it was, Maria could not read any further into it as she was being expected to answer an unasked question, 9 pairs of eyes staring straight at her.
"Before I fell from, erm, the apple tree, I was told I was engaged to be married," she replied solemnly. Perhaps she had to reconsider if "vindictive" or "provocative" were words that could possibly describe her where once she thought they would never.
Liesl and Brigitta exchanged meaningful looks. Georg almost choked on his wine, the room suddenly feeling hot and stifling at Maria's admission.
"I'm not sure about the details," Maria continued, ignoring Georg's reaction, "but Ingrid told me I was to be married and he left me the day before the wedding."
A beat.
An excruciating moment of sheer awkwardness and uncertainty.
Not enough room, not enough air, not enough space between him and her.
"That's horrendous, Fraulein," Max said after a second, eyeing Maria's lonely eyes and finding he was fully sincere. There was no mistaking the melancholy in it, even if she did try to speak lightly about the situation. "Who would ever do such a thing?"
Georg wanted nothing more than to throw his steak knife straight into Max's heart. If there was a heart.
Maria shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not sure, and I'm not sure I'd want to know. It's already painful not knowing who he is and just knowing what he'd done. I surmise it would only be worse if I knew who he was." She looked around the table, at the children's uncomfortable faces and the way they avoided her gaze, before her eyes landed right on the Captain.
He looked… wounded.
Maria would never wish him ill, but in that moment, reliving all that hurt to spin a tale for Max, she found she couldn't care less about how Georg felt. She couldn't fully explain what was coming over her. She didn't usually set out to provoke, at least not in this manner. And she certainly didn't wish to make anyone uncomfortable in their reunion. In fact, all of these lies she was spinning were making her ever more certain she would burn in purgatory for at least a hundred years.
"Would you like to know who he is, Fraulein?" Max asked, not flinching even as he felt a small kick from under the table. Could Georg's foot reach that far? Or perhaps that was Brigitta's?
Maria's eyes narrowed suspiciously, taking Max's apparent bait. "Do you know him?" she asked, for a quick moment actually believing her own lie that she knew absolutely nothing about her old lover. She looked around at the children. "When I was here… was I was with him? Did I ever introduce him to you all?"
Friedrich bit the inside of cheeks. Kurt looked at his plate as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Brigitta took a long sip of her water, and Louisa started fiddling with the napkin on her lap. None of them were ever trained to lie, and they wouldn't be starting now.
"I'm afraid you never introduced him to us, Fraulein," Max answered, noting the small panic in Georg's eyes and the children's growing discomfort and wanting to save them all. He only felt a little guilty for causing all of that. It wouldn't do well for the children to be dishonest to their governess. And well—it was technically true, wasn't it? There was no need for Maria introduce her beau at all when said beau was already known to the household.
Max shifted uneasily in his chair before he shot Georg a look. He had essentially saved him from denying the governess himself (depending on how one looked at it, of course)—and he could repay the favor with an 1890 Chardonnay sitting in the back of his wine cellar.
Maria's face fell but she recovered quickly.
Well, what did she expect? Of course no one would admit to that. She felt shameful putting the children in such a situation—she only wished to make their father feel anything.
"I suppose that's a good thing," she settled after she took a moment to recover and gather herself. "A man who would leave right before a wedding probably would not have been worth the introduction anyway. Not to you lot at least—you're all so very kind."
The guilt Maria felt over her little ruse and her deception of the family were swirling unpleasantly with the pain of having once again been denied. And at this point, who could she blame but herself? This would have been a perfect dinner if she didn't give in to the temptation of provoking Georg. She felt awful, for herself and for him, and for the children, and she made a mental note to pray the rosary… ten times… tonight before bed.
Liesl peered uneasily at her father, watching him swallow Maria's words with half his glass of wine. Before things could get any worse, Frau Lister mercifully came in to clear their plates and serve them their entrée. There was tense silence the first few moments, until Gretl asked Maria for help in cutting her vegetables.
Expertly, Maria took her knife and fork and cut the beans in the length she knew Gretl liked. Max watched the exchange happen. Was it muscle memory? Or perhaps Maria remembered just a little? He wasn't certain. But the way Gretl beamed at Maria after the task made Max's own cold heart melt. She had always had her way with the children.
Soon, the children were busy telling Maria stories of her stay at the villa—how they sang songs, put up a puppet show, sang about their favorite things. They recounted stories of going up the Untersberg to her mountain, climbing trees, and learning in their study room on the villa's second floor. Maria's heart filled with love for the children as they talked non-stop about the summer she spent in their home, a true manifestation of how much they enjoyed their time with her, how much they loved her. It reminded her of the depth of her love for them, and them for her, and how she would have been absolutely more than fine being their mother.
Georg watched the scene unfold before his eyes, his children chattering happily about their days with Maria. They spoke as if it weren't all that long ago, certainly not two years! And they spoke with so much passion. Enthusiasm. And dare he say, even reverence. His children were nothing if not animated, lively, full of personality. And in Maria's presence, they were even brighter.
She seemed to bring out the best in them without trying very hard, expertly reassuring them, listening to them, praising them. How was it even possible? She did so with ease, as if it came to her like second nature, to love his children. He realized, it probably did. Seeing them and interacting with them perhaps awakened a previously slumbering part of her heart, one that reminded her of her beautiful relationship with each of the seven von Trapp children. It gave him hope that with just a little more time, Maria might awaken the part of her heart that was for him. Lord knows his had always been open and longing for her, even before he knew for himself that he loved her.
After dinner, Maria took Marta and Gretl's measurements, noting them down in her little notebook just as she noted how much they'd grown in the past two years. The children had requested for Maria to put them to bed, but Max had insisted that he would be the one to do it. It was late, after all, and Georg still had to drive her back to her apartment. They had groaned in complaint, but after being promised that this was not to be the last time they would see their beloved Fraulein Maria, they acquiesced.
Georg offered her a short tour of the grounds, with words that conveyed it would be irresistible to see the grounds at night, and she yielded, "but only for a short while," she had said.
He led her to the back, to the marbled back terrace that flowed all the way to the lake. The back garden, Maria noticed, was filled with flowers of all kinds as well, illuminated beautifully by lights she thought Louisa may have picked out herself.
"You have a beautiful home," Maria commented casually, matching Georg's languid pace as they descended the terrace. There was a twinge of ache in her chest at the recall of so many a night spent doing exactly this—tucking the children in bed and then sneaking for a moment or two alone outside the villa. It was in those evenings that Maria was showered unabashedly with Georg's affection—reserved, for propriety's sake, but enough to be cocooned, enveloped so assuringly of his love.
"Somehow I believe you mean the house is beautiful," Georg teased. "Really, it's the children that make it a home," he continued with pride. "They're growing up far too fast."
Maria nodded in agreement. "They certainly are very wonderful children. You're lucky to have them."
"Yes," Georg agreed, his steps leading them left of the terrace, away from the gazebo. Yes, definitely away from the gazebo. He didn't think he could manage having Maria there.
He looked over at her and nearly stopped in his steps at the sight.
She was beautiful in the moonlight. Her hair was longer from the last time he saw her, before the supposed wedding, braided neatly behind her. It suited her. The fringe she used to sport gave her a sort of innocence, knowing it was cut so to fit behind a wimple. This Maria, however, with her golden hair braided, wearing a dress as simple as the old Maria would have, appeared more mature. Still glowing with youth, but a little harder on the edges.
"Have you thought of giving them a mother?" Maria asked curiously, wondering if anyone had been in the picture the past two years, if it was still in the Captain's interest to re-marry.
Georg bit his lip. "Not recently, no," he admitted. At Maria's inquiring stare, he sighed. "It's not exactly easy to find a woman willing to mother seven children," he explained a little self-deprecatingly. "They're not always angels, and they can become a handful. There was a time when we went through 12 governesses straight."
Maria nodded at this. "It must be difficult for you to handle them all on your own."
"I've gotten a lot of help," he explained. "My good friend, Elsa Schraeder—I'm sure you recall Liesl mentioning her, has kindly sent a few things for the girls. Often I'm way in over my head for those matters," he continued bashfully.
So the Baroness was still in their lives. But as a friend. It was interesting to note that. Quite surprisingly, Maria only felt gratitude for the sophisticated aristocrat for helping Georg with the children. It was clear that… some things… in a young girl's development were out of his league entirely. Maria felt a surge of appreciation for the woman who once practically scared her off into the night.
"And Max—Max is one of my oldest friends. He has so generously helped with a lot of their needs. He's the eighth von Trapp child because I feed him and put a roof over his head," he chuckled, earning himself a smile from Maria, "but he's put up with entertaining the children, making sure they're dressed and fed when need be, and really just being a jolly presence. My wine cellar seems to be dwindling in capacity, but I'm willing to overlook it."
Maria laughed, like the sound wind chimes, floating in the air as they went. "It seems to me that Herr Detweiler has been an invaluable presence. And you speak so… affectionately of him," she teased.
Georg shot her a sharp look.
"Perhaps he might be the children's new mother?" Oh, Lord forgive her for this transgression—teasing him without mercy, even so much as implying—
"I'm afraid he still does not possess certain other qualifications for the role," Georg responded dryly.
"Relax, Captain. I was only teasing."
Georg returned her smile rather unsurely, but kept pace as they looked around the grounds.
"Tell me, Maria. What else has Fraulein Ingrid told you about your past?" he ventured carefully, if a little hopefully as well. Here he was now, calculating his next step, wondering where he would fit himself in the picture, if he could at all.
"Not much, really," Maria answered without missing a beat. "That I grew up in the mountains. That I entered the convent for a short time before I became Frau Muller's assistant. She wasn't privy to the details of my life, it seems I've been quite private."
"I see. What about after your accident? How have you been? No long term injuries?"
"Aside from my memory, you mean?" she asked, sounding more confident than she actually felt in this lie. "No, thankfully not."
"That's good to hear."
They walked together in peaceful silence, Maria stopping once or twice to admire the flower bushes on the side of the path, fingers grazing the petals gently. She didn't think she would ever see the villa so colorful. It was a home even to her two years ago, but now it had certainly transformed. The children's personalities were allowed to shine in its corners, and Maria could not be prouder.
"The children were very happy to see you," he said, breaking the silence. "Almost as if no time had been lost between you all." He spoke of it with some awe, as if he could scarcely believe it either. Seeing her with the children tonight only cemented what he had previously known—that she fit perfectly into his family. He tried to trample on the regret that was bubbling uncomfortably in his gut together with that realization. He had known this to be true already. Except, he allowed himself to doubt.
"Well, they are wonderful children, have I not said?"
He nodded. "Indeed you have. It's just… they're happy. I hadn't seen them this happy in a long while, and it would mean so much to them if you could come and spend more time them as your schedule allows."
Here he was again, offering them up on a silver platter. It was an offer Maria could hardly resist. Seeing them and spending time with them tonight only made her realize how much she missed them, and how much she wanted to still be a part of their lives. But it would be too risky to accept the offer, would it not? She would fall even more in love with them. And she would have to spend even more time with their father than she initially calculated. She wasn't certain that boded well for her, seeing as she so numerously oscillated between loving and disliking the captain. She was unable to keep her emotions straight most of the time.
Sensing her apprehension, he continued. "I'm not sure you know how much you mean to the children."
Only the children? she wanted to ask, but kept still.
"They were without a mother figure for a long while. After my wife died, it was difficult for me to be around them. But you came into our household and you managed to win them over in just a few hours. We loved having you here at the villa and were terribly sad to see you leave."
Maria nodded, knowing full well the bits of the story the Captain was purposely glazing over. She thought if she truly had memory loss, then the Captain was doing her time at the villa a great disservice, by once again reducing its meaning.
"You brought music back into the house," he continued wistfully, "and the children blossomed under your care. I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of thanking you for all you've done for us."
"Oh, there's no need for that, Captain, really," she mustered. "It's a long time ago and I don't even remember it."
"Ah, but we do," he corrected. "And I would be an ungrateful wretch if I didn't tell you at least once that it was you who made this house a home."
Maria blushed, not expecting the show of gratitude, the compliment swirling still with the bitter truth that the Captain was not being entirely honest. But then again, neither was she. Between the two of them, she felt she had more to repent for—scheming and pretending and putting this family's quiet life in a predicament. It was hardly fair to the children.
"I'm sure I didn't do much," she countered meekly.
"You did plenty," he insisted, offering her a grateful smile. There was a moment where their eyes met, the energy between them electric, almost as if they had a mutual understanding of what had transpired. Georg could scarcely breathe, Maria's bright eyes boring into his with… shock, if he could read her right.
He cleared his throat, breaking the moment, unable to hold her gaze without crumbling underneath the intensity of it. He slowly steered her towards the direction of the terrace, hand on the small of her back for only a second before letting her go for fear of what it might to do to him to be touching her.
"So," he started, "would you consider? For the children?"
Hesitating only another moment, Maria peered at the Captain and offered him a small smile. "I'll do the best I can."
He hated having to use the children as an excuse to see her. In the days when she was the governess, he did exactly that, and he reasoned it was really the only way to spend any time with her. But after they had gotten engaged, moments alone, though few, were sought out not because of any need for the children, but simply because they yearned for each other. He felt wretched using the children as an excuse yet again to spend more time with Maria, when he could easily just let her know how he felt about her. He reasoned he didn't even need to tell her about their past. He simply had to tell her she enchanted him, and it would be enough cause to want to see her more.
But it sounded wrong even to his ears. Mad. Deceitful. It was not untrue that she enchanted him. But to say imply that this feeling was new would have made him even more of a coward than he already was. He needed to be honest—but where would he even begin? He needed to show her who he truly was—but who was he really? He had hurt her deeply, far more than he had hurt anyone in his life. But the Lord knew how repentant he was, how he would take it all back in a heartbeat if he could.
"Captain?"
Georg was startled out of his thoughts by the very object of them, seated in the passenger side of his car as he drove her back to her apartment after dinner.
"Yes?"
She seemed apprehensive for some reason, shifting uncomfortably in her seat while she gazed at him.
"Something on your mind, Fraulein?" he prodded, keenly aware of the distance between them—far and near at the same time, too much for his mind to handle.
"Yes, well. Earlier this evening," she began, "you said I had a wonderful relationship with the children. And that I had… oh what was it? Brought music back into your house?"
"Yes," he confirmed pensively, trying his best to determine where Maria might be going with her thoughts.
Maria nodded and then looked out of the window, the Salzburg streets passing through without her really seeing them. The events of the evening made her a little lightheaded—happy and thrilled to see the children again, so grown up! But also determinedly confused. She was fully aware that they were both deceiving each other, and Lord help her, she would most likely spend an entire hour in the confessional on Sunday. He glossed over some things tonight, she had provoked him. And yet, she still loved him.
Nothing seemed clear to her at all.
"I was wondering… I mean, the feeling between the children and I are so clearly mutual."
"Yes."
"Well… why did I leave, then?" she asked, unable to look at him as she let the question slip from her lips. "Were you not in need of a governess anymore?"
It wasn't fair, Maria knew, to keep testing the Captain. By his track record, it was obvious he would say something hurtful once again. Was she a glutton for punishment? No, not really. And she didn't mean to keep crucifying the Captain.
But what she wanted to do… was to give him a chance.
A chance.
To redeem himself.
To give some sort of inclination of what they had meant to each other.
To step from behind their mutual love for the children and admit to what they had.
A part of her heart needed it—to know she had not just imagined the touches, the kisses, the love. That it was not only her who burned with passion for him.
Georg sighed. What was he to say to that? Was he to admit that she left because he cowardly rejected her love? Was he to admit that the cause of all her pain was and always has been his inability to accept the enormity of the love she was capable and so willing to give? It was a conversation that had to be had—he was certain of it. But such a conversation needed more time. Time before it happened, and time for it to actually happen.
"You stayed with us the summer," he explained slowly, "a loan from the abbey of sorts."
Maria nodded wordlessly.
"When the summer ended and the children were to go back to school, well, you returned to the abbey."
Maria held back a disappointed sigh.
Did she expect any different? Half-truths that only seemed to crush her spirit. She should have known this was coming. The third denial. The cock crowing and Jesus would be crucified.
"The children wanted you to stay," he continued, the pit in his stomach growing. "But, well… your life wasn't with us."
Biting her lip and managing to rein in her emotions, she nodded, eyes suddenly watery.
"Thank you," she managed, hoping her voice indeed sounded grateful.
Georg could only suppress the lead that weighed heavily in his stomach. Here was the girl, trying to make sense of her past. And here he was, feeding her half-truths, circumstances glazed to his advantage, obviously not helping the poor girl come to terms with what she had lost.
There was nothing but terse silence between them, cut only by Maria's quiet directions towards her apartment. When they finally arrived, Maria thanked him for the lift and wished him a safe drive back home.
"Thank you for letting me meet the children," Maria said before she closed the door. "They truly are such dears."
Georg nodded. "Feel free to come by anytime. You are welcome at our home."
With a last smile, Maria closed the door behind her, watched the Captain drive away, before she let her shoulders slump in defeat.
On the drive back home, Georg felt that something had shifted. Within himself, and between him and Maria. He was realizing now the extent of the damage he had caused, and was continuing to cause the girl. Truly, it would be for her best interest if he stepped back and let go of her all together.
But seeing her again had reawakened a part of his heart that he thought he had closed off. He had taken almost all the memories he had with Maria and shut it in a box, pushed to the very back corners of his mind, unable to remind him of how she was larger than life and continuously difficult to contain in his mind. But this reunion, this unexpected nearness. It had undone him.
Loosening his tie a little, he sought to breathe a little easier. What was the point of pursuing her now? It hardly seemed like a good idea at this point. He felt well and truly undeserving of her attention.
But.
There was the matter of the children. They clearly loved her with all they could give, and this time Georg had no doubt they would fight tooth and nail for her to stay in their lives.
But aside from the children,
There was the matter of his heart. It was wounded, and Maria was the salve. He had soothed it by just her presence, unwittingly at that. And Georg—he was thirsty for it. This was the selfish side of him talking.
And then there was the matter of Maria herself. He realized now how he severely misjudged her, and how wrong he was for letting his doubts come in the way of them. Today though, she seemed to be yearning, searching, and he liked to think that, for his faults and imperfections, he would still be able to give her all that she deserved. A family who loved her. A home. A partner devoted to her and every inch of her. A belonging she probably never had.
He was stupid for letting her go the first time. And an idiot for denying her more times than he had ever denied anyone. The guilt and the shame ate at him almost constantly now, mixed with an unequivocal love for the woman that she was. He would be a bigger imbecile if he didn't try, at least another time, to prove to her his worth.
He wasn't sure where he stood, and he supposed there would be no place to stand until he had confessed everything to her. But in order to get to the point of confessing, he would first need to gain some semblance of her trust back. Perhaps not fully—but enough that she would be willing to give him the chance he was desperate for.
"You came back late last night," Ingrid commented to her the following day, her hands adeptly feeding a piece of fabric through the sewing machine, her foot working expertly with her hands.
Maria nodded. She looked tired. She certainly didn't sleep very well after all of that. Although she had been joyous at being reunited with the children, thrilled to see how much they've blossomed, her relationship with their father weighed her down.
She wasn't this girl. She used to always focus on the windows opened instead of the doors closed. The children were most definitely an open window. But something about how the past few years had hardened her made it difficult for her to ignore the closed door, shut tight, the heavy wood locked with iron.
"How did dinner go?" Ingrid asked, eyeing Maria as she traced a pattern on a piece of fabric.
"Dinner went well," she replied shortly. "The children have grown up so much, it was a delight to see them all again."
Ingrid hummed, focusing her eyes on the machine. "And yet somehow, after such a delightful evening, I would have expected you to be a little more enthused."
"I'm enthused!" Maria defended, but her words lacked the inundation it needed to sound convincing. She sighed. "It was a delightful evening with the children."
"And their father?"
"Of course. But, I don't know. I suppose I'm not entirely sure how I feel about him yet."
"You were engaged," Ingrid pointed. "And then he left you. And you were a mess, by Maria Rainer's standards."
"Yes."
Ingrid studied her friend carefully. It was clear that Maria was confused. She was angry, and no doubt she had every right to be. There had been absolutely no closure for her over the years. She wouldn't say Maria was lovesick, but it occurred to Ingrid that the only reason things were being especially difficult, and that Maria was taking an emotional beating, but simply because of how she felt for the Captain at the core.
"But you still love him."
"Oh, how can one not love him?" she asked forlornly. "He's handsome—"
"I'll say"
"—but that the least of his qualities that make him so irresistible. He's charming and funny and brave. Puts the children's welfare above all else, a true family man. And he's intelligent. A little gruff perhaps, but passionate and kind on the inside." Maria could wax poetic about all the complexities of Georg Von Trapp and why she loved him so. But there was a quality she couldn't overlook. And it was that he was willing to let her go.
"And yet he hurt you." And that, Ingrid thought, was the most unfortunate part of his personality that countered every good thing Maria had said about him. It was true that hurt was just a part of a life, and in any relationship, it was nothing short of expected that couples would hurt each other. But the depth of the hurt Maria suffered in his hands was a character trait that did not seem at all redeemable.
"He did," Maria agreed. "More than anyone ever has."
"The way I see it," Ingrid continued thoughtfully, studying Maria, "is that you love this man, but are still very affected by what happened. But it seems to me that you're willing to forgive him, if you can sort things out with him. And really, the only way to do that is to give up this charade and just tell him. So you can communicate how you feel and how you may move forward together."
"It's not that simple."
"And you, darling, only serve to make things complicated," she pointed dutifully.
"He probably doesn't feel the same about me."
"Well, you wouldn't know that lest you talk to him."
"I can't talk to him—I don't think my heart can take another rejection."
"You still won't know that unless you talk to him. Haven't you always told me that I must face my problems?" she reminded. "You're doing the exact opposite."
The Reverend Mother did tell her she must face her problems. She couldn't deny that, in a way, she was running away from them. But if you tilted your head just so, you might see that she was facing her problems, perhaps a little unconventionally, but still facing them nevertheless. Oh what a mess she was in!
"What do I do, Ingrid?"
"You can start by being honest," she said pointedly. "To him. And to yourself."
AN: Thanks for making it this far. This answers the question about Baroness Schraeder. And also introduces the rest of the children in the confusing mix. I hope I did the reunion justice, although I did have to rewrite their re-introductions so many times to keep it from being rote.
Anyway. Please don't hate Georg. And please don't hate Maria. Maria in this chapter is sort of testing the waters, seeing what the ruse might reveal to her in terms of the Captain's feelings. Except she keeps getting disappointed. I like to think of it as 1930's googling your ex-boyfriend to see what he's been up to, the equivalent of being maddeningly curious and bordering masochistic when you stalk your ex on instagram lol. And Georg... well. He's waiting for the right time. He's a naval captain, he's constantly calculating. He'll be coming in for the kill fairly soon.
Thank you so much for reading! Do keep safe!