AN: I am extremely blown away by your warm reception of the prologue! I really didn't expect for anyone to care enough to read and review, so I'm truly grateful to all of you who have given this humble story some notice. I heard all the reviews, and I think you might all appreciate this chapter in that it gives a little explanation to what happened. But before I spoil it, we should probably get on!


Liesl's mouth fell agape, and so did the Captain's. He hadn't yet decided how he felt about seeing Maria again after all these years—he'd never run into her since he cowardly called off their wedding the night before it was supposed to happen. In retrospect, it was one of the most decidedly spineless and un-courageous thing he'd ever done in his life. And now here she was, apologizing for having lost her memory in an accident, and suddenly it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Maria—his Maria—unable to recall anything?

"Oh, that's terrible!" Liesl exclaimed, a look of pure horror on her face. "What happened?"

Maria shrugged, seemingly unperturbed. "I just took a bit of a tumble. I woke up and couldn't remember much. My roommate helped fill me in on some details, but without her, I'm afraid I don't recall anything." Maria looked between Georg and Liesl. "I gather I know you Fraulein?"

Liesl blinked before she nodded enthusiastically, a bit dazed by the new revelation but unable to hide her happiness at having found Maria again after all these years. It was no secret how devastated she was after their father had called off the engagement, the details sparse and cloudy even to her as the oldest child. But all of her brothers and sisters felt similarly, felt her profound absence, clear as day that something was missing. The only caveat was that they were much too frightened by the hollowness in their father's eyes to so much as demand an explanation.

"Know you? Of course we know you! You were our governess—me, and my brothers and sisters. Just down in Aigen."

"Oh!"

Liesl nodded again, smiling proudly. "There's seven of us—"

"Seven!" Maria yelped unceremoniously. "Me, a governess to seven children?" She had a look of complete astonishment, looking between the Captain and Liesl. "How in the world did I manage that? I couldn't even manage myself," she chuckled lightly.

Liesl grinned in excitement. "Oh, you managed beautifully, Fraulein. In fact, you were so much a part of our family, you and father were—"

"Friends!" Georg interrupted swiftly, just in time, finally recovering from his initial shock. "We were friends, Fraulein."

Liesl shot Georg a curious glance, but he ignored it, choosing instead to offer Maria a small smile.

"We were friends." Maria repeated blankly, disbelievingly, eyes boring into his as if she could see right through him. The doubt was evident in her tone, but her eyes betrayed no emotion.

Georg bit his lip self-consciously, ignoring the way Liesl had rolled her eyes at his hopelessness. "Yes, I wasn't exactly the model father, you see. And you helped me with the children a lot. Over time, you and I became good friends."

The unreadable expression on Maria's face stayed for a moment longer, too long perhaps, before she flashed a bright smile at the pair. "Well, that's wonderful to hear! I'm glad to have been a bit of help."

"You were more than a bit of help," he admitted, before he realized what he had said and cleared his throat to diffuse the situation. "And now you're here," he said, looking around briefly at the store.

"And now I'm here," she declared proudly, eyes beaming. "I've been lucky."

"Yes," Georg agreed absently, lost in the twinkle in her eyes.

"Now, how may I be of assistance to Fraulein Liesl?" she asked, digging for her sketchbook from the bottom cupboard and disappearing from view for a moment.

"You can call me Liesl please, Fraulein Maria."

"Alright," she said, reappearing behind the counter. "Liesl," she amended, leaning a little into the name. "How may I help you?"

"Well, Father is throwing a party, you see," she explained in earnest. "A debutante ball. For me."

"Oh, how lovely!" Maria cried, clapping her hands once.

Liesl nodded, her excitement from the past days finally catching up with her. "I'd hoped you'd help make my dress. All my friends had theirs made here, you see, and I knew from the moment I saw Clara von Wagner's gown that I'd have to have to get mine from the same shop." Liesl paused, surveying Maria thoughtfully. "I should have known it would have been you behind it. You've always been a skillful seamstress."

Maria blushed at compliment. "I've learned a thing or two here and there," she replied humbly.

"Would you design it for me, please, Fraulein Maria?" Liesl looked at her with those cool blue eyes, much like the Captain's, a youthful innocence about her that Maria could not say no to. Not even if she tried.

"Of course," she said on a breath as Liesl squealed. "Would you follow me this way please?" she smiled, leading her towards the small backroom, sketchbook on one hand, and a very disbelieving and upended Captain trailing behind her.


"Memory loss!" Georg nearly growled as he paced his study that evening, a half-empty glass of whiskey sitting on the table.

Max watched him with a hint of amusement, his lips pursed. Georg and Liesl had come home earlier that day in a bit of a daze. Liesl, bursting to the seams with eagerness as she shared the news of her reunion with Fraulein Maria, oblivious to her father's discomfort. Or rather, acutely aware, but evading it all together. And Georg, simmering just beneath the surface, unhinged but only to the trained eye.

The children had looked unsurely at their father at Liesl's mention of Fraulein Maria, but he smiled at them in what he hoped looked to be reassuring, allowing them to revel in Liesl's excitement. It was unfair, after all, to hold them back. They had missed their Fraulein —almost their mother. So close to being their mother in all but paper. Sometimes he wondered how his children ever forgave him for what he had done. They had trudged on dutifully after the cancelled engagement, even though Georg knew it took all of their willpower to do so. He wasn't the only who lost her—the children did too, and perhaps of a depth he would never be able to understand. He had made them hope, all of them, including Maria. And in the end, he had disappointed them all.

And now, behind closed doors, in the relative safety of his study, he was undone. He felt just as guilty and torn and pitiful as they he last saw her, the two years doing little to ease the constant ache in his chest that reminded him of all he had done wrong.

He had loosened his tie, poured himself a drink, and paced relentlessly as his mind tried to grasp the events of the day.

"Do you doubt it?" Max asked, raising his brow.

Georg shook his head. Of course not. Maria had looked so bewitchingly apologetic earlier that day, it was difficult to doubt her.

"It's not that I doubt it. It's that it seems—"

"Like too much news?" Max finished, sipping his own glass of whiskey.

Georg sighed and took a seat. What had happened to Maria in the last two years? This was not the first time he'd asked that question, surely not the first time he'd wondered where she was or what she was up to. If she was happy. If she was living her life. If there was a man keeping her happy (the thought of which certainly sending bolts of jealousy up to the tendrils of his fingers). But seeing her today, although bringing a few answers to his burning questions, also left even more questions in its wake.

"How did she say she lost her memory?"

"She took a tumble," he answered absently, tracing the pad of his finger on the rim of his glass. "A tumble strong enough to take away 22 years of her life."

It was unfair. Maria was the person who least deserved all the cards life had handed her. It was cruel for someone as kind and thoughtful and welcoming as Maria to have to live through such uncertainty, both past and present. He tried not to think about how he played a hand in that—that it was through his own actions that Maria found herself in such a predicament, but the guilt was overwhelming.

"A tragedy."

"Or maybe a blessing," Georg ventured quietly. "It wouldn't do her well to remember any of the hurt she's been through. She deserves only happiness."

"Of the last 22 years, or simply the last two?" Max asked, an expression of knowing written clearly on his face, Georg wanted to smack it off with the back of his hand. "Surely it is a disservice to wish her rid of any of the happy memories of her childhood."

"She didn't have many," was Georg's terse response. "Happy memories of childhood, that is."

Max nodded in understanding. He knew the poor girl had been orphaned young and had been sent to her uncle—both a niece and a nuisance in those years. She had known many unhappy years, and yet it was hard to feel sorry for the girl. Not when she did not feel sorry for herself in the least. She was lively, spirited, full of unquestioning faith. It was what was so magnetic about her, and perhaps what had caused her the greatest pain, too. She had unquestionable faith in Georg, and he had shattered it.

"Liesl seems to be excited," Max pointed. "So did the rest of them when they found out."

"One could hardly blame them," Georg said, something like regret creeping into his tone. "They've been wanting of a mother for so long. And for a while, Maria had filled that." Until you broke it all, you fool, he thought.

There was an openness to Georg Max was not always accustomed to. He had been a recluse after Agathe passed, showed little of his thoughts and feelings and spoke even less of them. With Maria, he was far less reserved, absorbing the welcome Maria so warmly gave to people around her. And after the wedding was called off, he was even yet a mystery.

They had known each other since they were young sailors serving in the war. He had seen Georg evolve—from rowdy sailor to devoted husband. From the picture of youthful joy to the epitome of grief and self-destruction. From rebuilding from the ashes, humbled by the young governess who had put him in his place, to desperately in love, to… blank. Just a being, existing, without much purpose save for the children. Not sorrowful darkness, per se, as it was with the loss of Agathe. But an abyss that seemed not to care about his own pleasure, simply the children's.

The evolution of Georg Von Trapp, although the Captain would never admit it, centered around his women. One was unfortunately six feet under the ground for nearly a decade by now. But one was alive—perhaps an entirely different woman all together by now—but still, by Georg's recollection of the event, essentially the same. Maybe. It was too early to tell.

"Maria can still fill it," Max replied casually, looking at his old friend knowingly.

"She lost her memory."

"A clean slate," he countered, almost challenged.

Georg scowled. "And wouldn't that be taking advantage of the situation?"

"Well… yes," Max agreed, seemingly nonplussed by the prospect. "But it's clear as day you still have feelings for the girl. Might you be interested in perhaps… making amends?"

"She wouldn't know why I'd be doing such a thing. She doesn't remember being engaged. And wouldn't it be unfair to ask for another chance when I've so clearly ruined the first one?" Georg sighed, taking a long sip of his whiskey and setting the glass down again. There was nothing more that he wanted than to grovel for her hand again, and he would do precisely as Max had prescribed if he didn't feel so deplorably unworthy. "And besides, I hardly think the situation has changed."

"And by this you mean?"

He shrugged. "We called off the engagement because she hadn't lived her life, hadn't seen the world. She's what… 24 years old now? One doesn't see the world in two years, or experience enough of it to want to settle down, especially if it's to settle down with a man twice her age and 7 children under his belt. More importantly, one does not see the world in two years, especially when the first 22 were robbed from her."

Max tilted his head in thought, considering Georg's words. He had a point. But the point didn't matter. "First of all," Max said with an air of authority, earning him Georg's curious stare, "it was not a we that called off the engagement. It was a you."

"Oh, please, don't go easy on me now, old friend," Georg remarked sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. But even as he acerbically addressed Max, Georg knew that what he was saying was true. He felt like a worthless being in the aftermath of the cancelled engagement, oscillating between wanting to beg for her forgiveness and letting her live the life he thought she needed to live. In the end, his pride always won, and his heart was tattered and torn before he knew it.

"And you didn't break off the engagement because she hadn't seen enough of the world. That's rubbish if I ever heard it."

"Excuse me?"

"Admit it, Georg," Max said as he turned serious, losing the playfulness that present just a few seconds ago. "You got cold feet. You thought of the young little thing and you thought of Agathe and you thought of all the pain that went with losing a wife the first time, and you got cold feet." Before Georg could open his mouth in protest, Max held up a finger to stop him. "You can lie to all your friends, to the children, including to yourself. But tell me now that I'm wrong," he challenged. "That calling off the wedding was not because you were afraid."

"I was afraid," Georg replied with indignance. "But not for me. For her."

"For her?" Max asked with surprise. "Why would you have been afraid for her? You and I had never seen anyone as determined as Maria. We've lived through the war and no one could have matched Maria's will. There was no doubt in her mind marrying you and being a mother to the children was what she wanted to do. And she was unafraid to pursue it. Why, you and I could both take a page from her book of confidence. But you, my friend, you were afraid for yourself."

Feeling the beginning of a headache coming, Georg massaged his temples, trying his best to block out Max's words. In all their years of friendship, Max had never been so frank with him. Oh, he was honest and perhaps a little tactless, but Max always knew where to draw the line. Today, it seemed, Max was tired of his games.

"You don't have to admit it now," Max said, taking pity on Georg. "But you'd best think about what I said. Who were you really trying to protect when you'd broken off your engagement?"

Two years ago, he didn't have the gall to say it to Georg, not when he was drowning himself in sorrow and copious amounts of whiskey. In secret, of course, because he didn't want to worry the children. Max only joked about the matter, telling him it was a shame the new pair of shoes he'd just gotten shipped in from Italy would remain unused. But as lighthearted as Max was, things did not escape him. He read situations well. Why, it was the very reason he managed to keep his lifestyle at all! The reason he lived through the war! A combination of quick wit, a keen ability to read a situation, and a sly talent for slinking away or clinging on, whatever the circumstance called for.

Well, that was two years ago. This time around, with the unexpected reappearance of dear little Fraulein Maria, he wasn't going to hold his tongue. For Georg's sake. And most especially, for the children. They had suffered greatly from their father's indecision.

He downed his drink and then stood up, watched as Georg gave him a weary look from where he sat.

"Think about it, Georg. The circumstances may be different and certainly unexpected. But perhaps you'd like to be fair to yourself, too."

He gave Georg a short pat on the back before he retired to his quarters, a pensive captain in his wake.


"You told him you had memory loss."

Shock.

Disbelief.

And perhaps a little misplaced humor.

"Oh, Ingrid! What was I supposed to do?"

Maria huffed in dread, looking up to the ceiling for some sort of answer. Today's chance encounter with Liesl and the Captain was the least thing she expected. She went to the shop expecting an ordinary day for her ordinary life in her ordinary world, and in came the person who was certainly not ordinary at all. The very reason she took a job at the dress shop was because she knew Georg would never happen to find himself in one! Oh, this is what she got for not making a habit of checking the appointment book at the end of each day!

Ingrid watched Maria worriedly. Maria had gone home almost hysterical, babbling about running into someone she hoped to never run into again and repeatedly calling herself a fool.

"I panicked," Maria continued, eyes full of fear and despair. "I saw Liesl, and then I saw him, and I panicked."

"You panicked," she repeated.

"Yes! There was no calculation in my mind in which Georg Von Trapp would ever cross paths with me again, even if I did stay in Salzburg. We were just too different. He basically implied all of that when he smoothly called off the wedding," she babbled helplessly. "So I acted dumb—and pretended I didn't know him and Liesl and the rest of the children," feeling the guilt of denying the children weigh on her.

"Oh Maria," Ingrid said sympathetically, shaking her head.

"What else would I have done?" she asked rhetorically, throwing her hands up in exasperation. She always, always got herself into trouble, but this was without a doubt one of the biggest, stickiest webs she'd ever caught herself in.

Ingrid shook her head, taking a rather stunned Maria into bed and sitting next to her comfortingly. "You were stunned. It's understandable."

Two years and she was still not over Georg Von Trapp, or the hurt he had caused her. She still shuddered to think about the weeks and months following their broken engagement, how difficult it was to pick up the pieces, how her heart felt so achingly hollow and yet harrowingly sharp with each breath, how she wanted to rip it right out of her ribcage so many times just to breathe at all. She was as broken as she ever was, lost, lonely and without direction. She had thought she knew the life she was born to live—to become a mother to the seven amazing children and devoted wife to the man she loved with all her being. Yet he had yanked the rug from beneath her feet, the floorboards shifting so drastically until she didn't know which direction she was facing, if she was walking at all, if there was anywhere else to go towards.

The aftermath of Georg Von Trapp was a part of her life she would not wish on anybody—full of pain and suffering and anguish. She thought she had suffered at the hands of her uncle, when she would take a beating twice a week, maybe thrice if he had enough money to spare for the tavern. She thought nothing could ache more than those wounds. But words and broken promises, stolen hope and shattered trust, she found, could hurt deeper than any physical blow ever could.

"Oh, what do I do Ingrid? Liesl will come to the store for fittings regularly. And Georg surely will come with him."

"Maybe he won't," Ingrid offered, trying her best to be helpful even though she knew very little of the kind of man Georg Von Trapp was.

"He probably would," she winced. "Ingrid, if that wretched man ever set foot in the shop again, I don't think I could stop myself."

"From what?"

"From… well… from yelling! And giving him a piece of my mind. I never got the chance to. He just left me in the abbey that night. Looking like a lovesick fool—oh, like a kicked puppy!" It wounded her pride, but it truly wasn't her wounded pride that mattered. To this day, she does not know how she managed to explain the situation to the Reverend Mother, how she got through the pitying looks she received from the sisters, how she walked out of the abbey walls at all.

"You're angry," Ingrid observed with a knowing look in her eye. "You're still angry."

Maria bit her lip. She didn't think herself to be particularly vindictive, or to hold grudges. She'd forgiven her uncle after everything. But perhaps Georg was a little harder to forgive, after all. Nothing was quite as agonizing as hope stolen from right under your nose.

"I may be," she admitted in defeat. "Hurt and angry."

"It's understandable," she repeated, knowing Maria never got the closure she needed after Georg had left her unceremoniously that night. She had met Maria shortly after she left the abbey for good. She was looking for a roommate to help cut the cost of living in Salzburg, and Maria was looking for a place to stay. Ingrid also worked at Frau Muller's dress shop, but it so happened, today was her day off, so she didn't get to see the whole fiasco that was Maria pretending to have memory loss.

Ingrid had introduced Maria to Frau Muller, who was impressed by Maria's work ethic and creativity, her light demeanor despite an obviously difficult past. Maria had never spoken to Frau Muller about what had happened, but she had told Ingrid. And Ingrid rallied behind her sincerely. It was hard to find good friends these days, and Maria was nothing if not the perfect friend. And she tried to be the same for her.

"But you know…" Ingrid continued cautiously. "One only feels so much anger if they still love the other…"

Maria frowned. Did she love Georg, still? She supposed she did. There was no doubt she loved the Captain, for how could you stop loving someone who meant so much to you? But at this moment in time, the hurt overshadowed any love she felt for him.

"Be that as it may, I don't think I could ever get over what he did to me."

Ingrid nodded in agreement. "So what do you plan to do?"

Maria paused, thinking of all the ways she could fix the situation at hand. She could be perpetually unavailable for every appointment Liesl had—feigning sickness, or maybe a day off. But that was unfair to Liesl. Perhaps she'd be more diligent in checking the appointment book from here on. But who was she kidding? She was never one to stick to a discipline, least of all something as trivial as checking an appointment book.

The wisest choice was to drop the charade all together and let the Captain know he wasn't welcome, that she remembered everything a little too well for her to be alright with him being within a 2-mile radius of her. But how could she do that when her voice shook and her resolve vanquished at the mere thought of having to confront him?

With a heavy sigh, she met Ingrid's expectant gaze. "I won't do anything," she concluded shakily.

"What do you mean you won't do anything?"

Maria shrugged, trying to convince herself it was a good idea. "Liesl's dress will only take a month at the most. It will only be four weeks and then I can go back to living my life in peace."

Ingrid narrowed her eyes. "So you plan on pretending to have lost your memory… for an entire month?"

"It won't be that hard," Maria asserted, if a little unsurely. She was usually a good actress. Or, on second thought, not really. She was a terrible liar, and she wore her heart on her sleeve far too much for her own liking. But the last two years had hardened her a little, and she was certain a few encounters for the next month was something she could handle with ease. Or so she hoped. Lord help me.

"Are you sure?" Ingrid asked uncertainly, knowing Maria well enough to know Captain Von Trapp had hurt her profoundly, and that it was often difficult for Maria to pretend to be anything.

Maria looked imploringly at Ingrid. "You'll help me won't you? Oh, I'd just rather not have to relive all of that again. It was bad enough to be caught off-guard today. It would be worse to have to talk to him and recount how much he'd affected me."

Ingrid sighed. "You know I'd do anything for you, Maria. But you'll be careful, right? Four weeks, maybe five if you run into some trouble, and then hope to never see him again—inside or outside the dress shop."

"Yes, of course. If I'm lucky, Louisa wouldn't even want to have a debutante ball."


AN: Okay, I have absolutely no idea if you were expecting that little twist. There has been deception, on both their parts at this point. Maria is still angry and Georg is remorseful. You'll see more of that dynamic play out in the future chapters, mixed in with some canon-compliant personality traits that I think would suit the story. Again, thank you so much for giving this story some love- it's truly overwhelming!

Hope you're all staying safe from the pandemic wherever you guys find yourselves now! Love to all!