Thank you all for following along. xx I'm back on track! Woohoo!

(from a stack of letters tied up with string in Fraulein Maria's carpetbag)

xxx

Dear Fraulein,

I hope this letter finds you safety arrived and settled into your new home. That you had someone accompany you on your journey is reassuring. That your company was Max Detweiler is much less so. That he did so on my money is downright galling. I have received word from him that he has arrived in London without much fanfare but with much flair. He tells me you let him introduce you to Hofbrauhaus during your transfer in Munich. Fraulein, a tavern! That was a most unwise decision. You are familiar with Max's lack of restraint around alcohol. I'm surprised you didn't have to deposit him onto a luggage trolley and wheel him back onto the train. You are more daring than I expected, to brave the tavern scene.

You asked me to write letters to give you a taste of Salzburg, of home. I'm not much in the habit of writing about myself, but I will try to oblige.

What would interest you to hear? With you and Max both gone, and the children at school, I am holding down the fort and bravely wading my way through the fall season of tedious luncheons and ghastly afternoon teas. I have already had more crumpets than I can stomach. I fear cook may be burning out as she asked for a week's vacation for the first time in my memory. The children are keeping quite well, although they miss you. I insist on dining with the children most evenings, and spend some time helping them with their homework after school. Now, you have told me this, but I do find they are more keen when their father takes an interest in their work. I am trying to hide the fact I haven't got a clue what Liesl or Friedrich's calculus assignments are asking them to do. The hours before bedtime that used to be dedicated to rehearsals for whatever great performance they were planning is harder to fill. I have decided to let the children participate in their school's benefit concert (do not tell Max, I cannot bear any more gloating). It gives them something to do in the evenings, or else I fear they will perish of boredom with their old father.

The children tell me the Salzburg fall fair is approaching, and of course they are badgering me to take them.

I don't believe I have any more noteworthy items to report, Fraulein. How did I do? Are you certain you wouldn't like me to send a few postcards of Salzburg in the fall instead?

I hope you, too, write me with your doings in Groningen – or else the fountain pen I gave you should be wasted. It was, in fact, the pen my father gave me when I left for the naval academy.

A sincere attempt at… sincerity, yours,

Captain von Trapp

xxx

xxx

Dear Fraulein,

That was not a dare. I command you, do not go around town engaging in feats of daring to prove your point. The famed red-light districts of Holland will make even the tavern with the worst reputation look tame, even in a town as quaint as Groningen.

I'm glad my domestic recount has made you smile. Did you write Liesl and tell her of my inadequacies regarding higher level mathematics? She has suddenly stopped asking for my help. (Though she has probably come to realize by now her father is not much help.) You say you especially liked the way I wrote of myself and the children, and expressed a lot of effusive delight at our inanely quiet evenings. I'm going to read between your unusually subtle lines and add that you may have believed I might not be spending evenings with the children at all. And perhaps, was that a bit of relief I sensed?

You would be right, Fraulein. I'm not a particularly domestic man by nature. I think you know that. There are always a thousand demands and distractions, and Elsa would fill our evenings with social engagements if I agreed to it. I have to admit I have never written such a letter before, but doing so brought me back to my days at sea. In those years, I would receive such letters from Agathe, filled with her doings with the children, their little outings, their small victories, a byplay of what they did that day. Those letters were home.

I find myself frequently thinking of what you said during your last visit to us in Salzburg. You were running across the veranda (how many times have I told the children it is dangerous to run across the veranda?) to fetch something for the children, and I was on my way outside to join the lot of you. We both stopped to watch Brigitta and Kurt cartwheel across the grass.

You have a beautiful family, Captain, you said, I hope you always cherish it.

That was your way of telling me there is more work to be done, wasn't it? That I should cherish the children, not in knowledge of the fact but in every decision and deed when you would no longer be present to dress me down for disappointing them.

You are right, of course, and I see it every day. I should have told you so, but we all have our weaknesses and mine is evidently the failure to recognize opportune moments when they present themselves. So, now that you are gone, I will stay it through writing what I should have said in the summer. I do have a beautiful family. It was you who made me see it, and you who reminded me of the fact time and again, even after your return to the Abbey.

You have a strange way of bringing out the best in people. Now that you are halfway across the continent, this old sailor will do his best to take up the mantle and live up to your words.

That is a promise, Fraulein. Go ahead and breathe that sigh of relief.

Now, you barely said a word of your new position and home in Groningen. Yes, I know the town well enough, but I should be interested to see it through your eyes. I can't imagine it would be dull for an instant. I wouldn't have gifted you a pen if I didn't expect you to use it.

Yours most sincerely,

Captain von Trapp

xxx

A/N: I've always felt Georg comes to appreciate Maria's value but never quite figures out how to articulate it, and this creates the perfect opportunity to explore it. Would love to hear your thoughts.