Saturday Evening
By the time they had stopped for a late lunch on the Border and driven for another two hours on the Italian motorway, the light was slowly fading and a peaceful silence had settled inside the car. Georg grinned as he saw Louisa leaning on Friedrich's shoulder in his rear view mirror, both fast asleep, with peaceful expressions belying their usual clamour. Brigitta, as usual, was buried in a book, and Liesl was playing blackjack with Kurt, probably, Georg suspected from her pensive expression, letting him win easily.
Maria sighed dreamily as she watched the countryside speed by, admiring the picturesque little villages which dotted the sunburnt hills on either side of the road. Despite the onset of twilight, heat still rose from the asphalt of the motorway, giving the evening a shimmering, lustrous sparkle. Kissing Gretl's head softly, she smiled as the sleeping girl squeezed her hand in response.
'Mother,' said Marta suddenly, turning from her seat between Maria and Georg. 'Is that Venice, over there?'
Looking to where Marta was pointing, Maria saw faintly a twinkle of water, her heart rising in excitement.
'I think so, darling,' she replied softly, looking towards Georg for confirmation.
'Yes, Marta, you're absolutely right,' Georg said, patting his daughter's head with his free hand. 'We should be there in about another twenty minutes.'
The sleepy haze which enveloped the family quickly dissolved upon this announcement, with Kurt poking his head through the two front seats to catch a glimpse of the city, and Brigitta hurriedly shutting her book to look over her brother's shoulder.
'Ouch, Friedrich, I've got a crick in my neck from falling asleep next to you,' exclaimed Louisa, as Georg guided the car towards the city outskirts.
'Well my shoulder hurts from your pressing down on it,' retorted her brother half-irritably, unable to be truly annoyed when he could see the first of Venice's many canals streching before them.
'This is where we say goodbye to the car,' said Georg, swinging into a gravelled parking bay by the side of the waterway's main boarding point. Tightening the brake, he left the vehicle and walked around to Maria's door as the rest of the children tumbled noisily out of the back, glad to stretch their cramped legs.
'Welcome to Venice, Baroness,' he murmed gently as he helped her out, yearning once more to kiss her in the long hours since their last embrace at the villa.
'Thank you, Captain,' Maria replied as she reached his eye level, clasping his hand, 'I'm sure I'll enjoy this holiday very much.'
'Oh, I'm sure you will,' he replied deeply with a significant look, just as Brigitta tugged at this cuffs.
'Father, I think this man wants to see you,' she said, motioning towards the hesitant owner of the parking bay who had been loath to interrupt a couple so obviously in love.
'Ah, Signor Gianni,' Georg greeted the man with a firm handshake. 'I trust you received our reservation to leave the car here.' As the Venetian nodded, he continued, 'could you ensure please that our luggage is deposited at the Pensionne Carpaccio? We'll follow on by gondola.'
At this, squeals of excitement burst from the children, continuing as the family walked towards the pier to be greeted by a cheerful dark-haired gondolier, puffing a cigarette and tucking a grubby copy of the newspaper Il Popolo d'Italia into his navy waistcoat pocket.
'Signor Von Trapp, I'm Luciano,' he greeted Georg in Italian, 'please climb aboard and I'll escort you to your hotel.'
'What's he saying, Father?' asked Brigitta, as Georg lifted Marta and Gretl into the swaying gondola.
'Just that he'll take us to the hotel,' her father answered. 'I must teach you some Italian while we're here Brigitta,' he added, handing her into the boat, 'I'm sure you'd pick it up quickly.'
At this, the girl's eyes shone, strongly reminding Georg of Agathe, whose memory he was now able to cherish freely rather than repress in anguish. Climbing into the boat next to Maria – who was trying to persuade Kurt that leaning over the edge was not such a good idea – he signalled to Luciano to set off.
As the godolier pushed away from the shore with his single oar, Georg sighed in contentment. After so many years removed from the navy, he relished the feeling of the water beneath him, despite the obvious difference between a slim gondola and a thousand-tonne navy frigate, he reflected wryly.
Maria meanwhile gasped in awe as Luciano manoevred the boat into the Grand Canal, the sheer majesty of the city confronting her for the first time. The sun hung low on the western horizon, its last rays turning the waterways a rippling gold and enfolding the riverside palaces with a lucent glow. Reaching for Georg's hand, she felt as if she had stepped into a Canaletto masterpiece, a sensation compounded as the gondola slipped under the stunning Rialto bridge and glided by St. Mark's square, from whose many restaurants the light tinkle of music emanated.
'It's beautiful,' she breathed, slightly resting her head on Georg's shoulder in awe.
'You're beautiful,' he whispered back, brushing a stray tendril away from her face as he gazed at her in admiration, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms as the sun's final rays disappeared, bathing the air a light indigo.
'I think we've arrived,' Liesl said, turning around to her parents with deliberate casualness, aware that they had been sharing an intimate moment in the rear of the gondola.
'Thank you Liesl,' said Maria with a smile as her husband took charge in helping the children onto wooden landing stage. Lifting Marta out into Georg's waiting arms, Maria stood up herself, noting with pleasure the golden, welcoming lanterns of the Pensionne Carpaccio.
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'All fast asleep,' remarked Maria contentedly, opening the hotel room door after kissing the children goodnight with Georg.
'Yes, even Brigitta,' he chuckled, striding towards the dressing table. 'And I don't know how Kurt could possibly stay awake after three helpings of panetonne.'
'Mmm,' Maria agreed, shrugging off her jacket. 'I just loved seeing the looks on Gretl and Marta's faces as we got into the gondola – they thought you were joking when you said we were leaving the car.'
'I loved seeing the look on your face,' called Georg as Maria walked towards the bathroom, longing to immerse herself in warm water after the tiring journey.
As she ran the taps, Georg busied himself round the room, sorting out the family's tickets for tomorrow's guided excursion of the city. Changing into his night attire, he glanced about the suite, noting with satisfaction the deep floral carpet, the brocaded cream curtains…the downy, kingsize bed. Deciding he could wait no longer, he strode into the steamy bathroom where his wife lay soaking, her eyes closed in peacefully. Quietly balancing on the edge of the bath, he leaned inwards, rousing Maria with a firm yet tender kiss, brimming with assured anticipation.
Reaching a bubbly hand up to his cheek, Maria responded with passion, her senses fully awakened by Georg's male scent and his insistent, lingering lips.
Smiling in their kiss, Georg reached for a towel with his free hand, slowly guiding Maria upwards into its fluffy warmth.
Unfolding her arms from around his neck as he set her down on the tiled floor, Maria deftly undid the buttons of Georg's pajama jacket, her hands tracing delicate patterns across his chest.
'I don't think you have any use for this, Captain,' she whispered, sliding the garment down his arms as he raised his eyebrows in mock wonderment.
Pleasantly surprised by his wife's directing role and increasingly aroused by the trail of fire she was branding on his chest, Georg scooped her up into his arms, smiling at her giggles.
'Your boudoir awaits, Baroness,' he murmured, gazing loving into her eyes, before he swept her into the bedroom where they zealously welcomed their beginning of their holiday.
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Afterwards, as the waters of the canal lapped gently beneath them, Maria lay collapsed atop Georg, quivering gently.
'Soon there'll be nothing left of me,' he whispered to her with a grin.
'Of you?' Maria purred. 'Not of you. We haven't even gotten to you yet.'
'Oh, we've gotten to me,' Georg replied softly. 'What, lovely? What, darling? What, Maria?'
'You, Georg,' she murmured. 'I can't move.'
'Don't move,' said Georg, tightening his arms around her. 'Don't do anything. I'll do it all.'
And, as he rolled over, the couple celebrated once more their arrival in the city aptly known as the 'Queen of the Adriatic'.
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