~ Chapter 1 ~
The Captain felt he had only been sleeping for a few minutes, when a faint sound woke him up. He opened his eyes and stared at the darkness of his bedroom.
The memory of Agathe's spirit came to him and he closed his eyes again.
It was a dream, he tried to convince himself.
Again, he heard the faint noise that had woken him up. It sounded like the distant chiming of church bells. Only, there was no church near enough the Von Trapp villa …
Opening his eyes again, the Captain expected to encounter darkness.
Instead, a dim glow filled the room.
It was coming from an image by the foot of his bed. It looked like an old man, with a long white beard, clad in a robe. He was wearing a wreath of holly.
Georg sat upright and stared at the old man. He closed his eyes and opened them again in the expectation that the man would have disappeared, but he was still there, looking at the Captain intently.
I am still dreaming, Georg told himself.
He had not slept well the last few nights; his thoughts were confused, and now his sleep was troubled by strange dreams. It was the only explanation he could think of.
But the apparition spoke with a low, reverberating voice, sounding very real and reminding Georg of the Church bells he had heard before.
"You are not dreaming, Captain von Trapp. You have been forewarned of my appearance."
Agathe told me, Georg thought.
She had really been with him. Even though he was unsettled by the old man's presence, the knowledge that Agathe had sent him brought a strange sense of calm over Georg. Dream or not – he would listen.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am the ghost of Christmas Past. Come, and I will show you what you need to see."
The Ghost beckoned to the Captain, who got out of bed again. Still a little doubtful, uncertain of whether or not this was real, Georg walked toward the man. Only now did he notice, that the spirit held a book in one of his hands. It looked like a photograph album, bound in black and red. As Georg approached, he could see that his name was written on the front in gold. He stepped into the circle of soft light, and the spirit took the book in two hands and let it fall open.
Curiosity overcame him, and Georg looked at the single picture that was on the page.
His breath caught in his throat as he saw the scene before him. And while he watched, the black and white picture gained colour, started to move… and suddenly, it enveloped him and he was standing in the scene of the photograph. He was downstairs in the salon, only, it couldn't be …
Georg drew a deep breath of air, realizing he had been holding his breath in shock at the sight before him, and as he looked closer, his jaw slightly dropped.
He saw himself, years younger, sitting on the floor in the salon. He was surrounded by six children who were also much younger than they should be. And of course, she was there – Agathe.
She stood next to the Christmas tree, bending over to pick up a gift from the pile of beautifully wrapped packages, which were assembled at the foot of the tree. As she straightened up and turned around, Georg noticed how radiant she looked with her soft smile, shining eyes, and rounded stomach.
It was the last Christmas before Gretl was born. And also, Georg remembered with a pang, their last Christmas as a complete family.
He looked on as Agathe handed the gift to Kurt.
The five –year-old eagerly accepted it from his mother and started tugging at the ribbons. When he succeeded in getting the ribbons and papers off, he triumphantly held up a box containing a toy train.
"A train! I have a train!" he cheered loudly, ecstatic about his gift. The other children drew nearer and joined him in his admiration for the train. Even Marta, who was held up by Liesl to look at her brother's present, made happy bubbling noises. Over the heads of the children, the young Captain and Agathe shared a happy glance.
The Captain looked at the blissful scene. Even though he was saddened, looking on and knowing the happiness of this group of people would soon come to a cruel ending, he was also overwhelmed with gratitude for what they had been allowed to have together. They had been so happy – but it had changed so quickly…
Georg pulled his eyes away from the scene by the Christmas tree as he felt a presence step up beside him. He realized he had all but forgotten about the Ghost of Christmas Past.
"Yes, Christmas used to be a happy time for you and your family, Captain," the Ghost stated. Georg nodded, letting his eyes drift back to the Christmas tree again, where Liesl was now opening a small gift.
"Unfortunately, things changed," the Ghost continued, and Georg saw that the photograph album was in the Ghost's hands again.
"Look," the Ghost commanded, and the Captain's eyes drifted toward the next photograph. As he focused on the picture, again he noticed how it started to move – and so did the salon around him. Colours moved, twisted – and even though he was still standing in the same spot, suddenly the room had completely changed around him.
He looked around, and noticed that this time, there was no Christmas tree in the salon. They children were here again, though.
The Captain took a few steps forward to look at them. The children were sitting around in a glum silence. He looked at their faces and he noticed that they were still younger than their true ages, but only about four years younger now. Liesl looked around twelve. As he counted, again he only came to six – Gretl must still be a baby and was probably upstairs in the nursery.
The Captain noticed the tense atmosphere and the silence of the children, which was so different from how he'd seen them moments ago that he felt a shiver run down his spine. Breathing heavily, he took a step toward Friedrich, who was nearest to him. He knelt in front of the boy and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Friedrich," Georg whispered to his son, but there was no reaction at all.
"They cannot see you," chimed the voice of the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Georg spun around to see him standing in the corner of the salon. He was resting against the mantelpiece.
Just like Maria had stood a few weeks ago.
The thought shot through the back of Georg's mind, but he pushed it away.
He glared at the Ghost, trying to hide his confusion.
"What is this?" he demanded.
"Just watch," was the only answer he received.
Georg's eyebrows knitted together in agitation. He turned around to look at the little scene again. Watching his children more intently, noting their ages and their outfits, he knew what he was seeing. Their first Christmas Day after Agathe had died. His stomach plummeted at the realisation.
The children started talking and Georg walked up behind the sofa where Liesl and Louisa sat.
"I still don't understand why we weren't allowed to decorate the house," said Brigitta. At the age of six, she already had the same serious face and intelligent eyes that defined her features as a ten-year-old.
"You know Father does not approve of it, Brigitta," Liesl replied softly.
Brigitta looked at her big sister.
"We always used to decorate the hall and the ballroom before," she pointed out.
"Yes. But well… everything changed when Mother died," Liesl explained, with the patient look of someone who had already explained this over and over before. "Father did give you that beautiful book of Fairy Tales, did he not?" she added, trying to cheer her sister up.
Brigitta nodded reluctantly. It was clear that she did not feel that the book she had received made up for what was missing.
"Mother always liked Christmas," said Kurt, not taking his eyes from his hands.
"Yes, and she would love to sing Christmas carols with us, but you know Father doesn't want us to sing anymore, either," added Friedrich glumly.
Louisa sat with her arms crossed and looked at the opposite wall. Her face was pale and tight.
"It won't ever be the same again. Father will never allow it to be, so why don't you all stop whining?" she said angrily.
The vehemence with which she spoke cut through Georg like a knife. He walked around the sofa and knelt in front of his second daughter. She was only about nine, and two blond braids framed her face. A face that was angry, but also very sad.
Georg put his hands on her knees and whispered her name. Of course, she looked straight through him, not knowing he was there. Why had he not seen her hurt before, he wondered. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her – but he couldn't, and anyway it would be too late. He was grateful that at least in the present time, he was communicating with his children again.
The Captain swore inwardly that if he could not undo what had been done, he would at least try to make up for their lost time as much as he could. And he was on the right track, was he not? Giving them a new mother…
A strange, unsettling feeling came over him again, the same feeling that had been bothering him for days. He tried to think of Elsa, tried to picture her as the mother of his children, but the mental picture would not come. When he saw the image of his children in his mind as they had been over the last few months, singing, laughing, playing, the slender shape of their governess was always in the picture with them. Not Elsa.
He felt that plummeting feeling again, as if something was wrong… slipping away…
His attention was drawn away from his thoughts as he saw all his children jump up from their seats.
Turning around to see what had caused them to stand up, he was startled to see himself walking into the room.
He looked a bit younger, but it was mostly the strict, angry look on his own face that struck Georg.
His younger counterpart spoke.
"Everybody, get your coats, it is time to go to Church." It sounded like a command, and without waiting for any answer from his children,
the younger Captain turned briskly around and walked into the hall again.
As the children followed him in tense silence, the room started to fade around Georg and through a blur of colour and movement he found himself back in his bedroom again.
"What was that all about?" he asked, turning around. But his bedroom was empty and dark once more.
The Captain sat down on the edge of his bed. As he looked around, he calmed himself with the assuring reality of the room, the solid wood of the bedpost he was holding, and he attempted to steady his uneven breathing.
The scene he had just witnessed came back to him. The knowledge that he had not been there for his children to help them with the grief of losing their mother was almost unbearable to him. But at the time, he had not had the strength – or had he? He had just pushed all feeling away, ignoring the feelings of his children to protect himself. Instead of helping them, he had caused them more pain, because they had not lost one parent, but two. Again, he was strengthened in his resolve to make up for what had been lost.