AN: Thank you all for the kind reviews in the previous chapter. Please know I read every single one of them and have taken note of some of the things you hope to see. It's amazing to me how invested the fandom is in Maria and Georg, and how this community really takes the time to hand out thoughts and love for a story. It's truly overwhelming, and I am terribly grateful to you all for the support.
Please enjoy this next installment! :)
"Fraulein, this is lovely!" Liesl gushed as she entered the workshop, getting her first glimpse of the dress Maria was putting together for her. The pattern had been cut and stuck to the dress form to mimic what it would look like when completed.
They had decided on a cream organza silk dress, with a full circle skirt and a tasteful but modest off-shoulder cut. Liesl had described in great detail how she wanted the dress to look, no doubt having put great thought into it before coming to the shop that first day. Maria only had to execute it.
"It's hardly even taken shape yet, Liesl," Maria reminded nicely, her tone quite like when she was reminding her or any of her charges about one thing or other. Liesl smiled wistfully at her before turning her attention back to the dress.
"Would the neckline fall here, Fraulein?" Liesl pointed to the dress form's bust. "Perhaps we can… you know…"
A beat, and then, "Liesl…" Maria started warily.
"Absolutely not," the Captain said from behind, appearing as if out of nowhere. Liesl had scurried into the store ahead of the Captain, who had some business with the watchmaker next door. No one had noticed him come in and slip to the workshop in the backroom.
"But Father!" she began to protest.
"I shall not have my daughter dress like a common whore."
"A common whore?" Liesl repeated in horror. For a neckline? "Would you call Baroness Schraeder a common whore, father? I've seen her wear a gown with a neckline an inch or two lower than this."
Maria tried not to blush at the exchange between father and daughter, reminding herself to feign ignorance on who Baroness Schraeder was. It appeared, Maria thought, that the Baroness was a still a part of the Von Trapp family.
As it should be, Maria thought. Elsa was without question more suited to the life the Captain led. And it seemed the children may have warmed up to her.
"Liesl," the Captain warned, chancing a glance at Maria, who had staunchly avoided father and daughter and had gone to the drawer to gather more pins. "The dress isn't even put together. You haven't even tried it on. How about we talk about necklines when you've actually fitted the dress?"
Liesl, chagrinned, blushed ever so slightly before nodding in acquiescence. She was just too excited, and was indeed getting ahead of herself.
Georg cleared his throat. "Fraulein, when do you surmise the dress might be finished?" he asked, failing to have asked that crucial question on the first day. The ball wasn't scheduled for another three months, but it was best to be sure.
"Well, Sir, if we stick to the design and encounter no problems with the suppliers, it should be done in about a month's time," Maria explained. "The dress is rather simple, really. Simple, but classic."
Liesl frowned at Maria's response. "Simple?"
Maria shook her head placatingly, as if reading Liesl's mind. "I mean, it's not that complicated to make," she continued. "I said simple merely based on the pattern, Liesl. Don't worry about it being ordinary."
Liesl moved towards the dress, fingering the fabric and looking longingly. She turned to Maria. "Fraulein, I know we already talked about what I wanted the dress to look like, but I gave it a little more thought, and if there were things I wanted to… change… would it still be possible to make them?"
Maria looked at Liesl quizzically before shrugging. "I suppose it will depend on the change," she replied slowly, a little wary that this would be about the neckline. "But at the end of the day, it's your dress, and our job here at the shop is to make a dress to your liking."
The young girl seemed to consider this before she chanced a glance at her father. He was looking at anywhere but Fraulein Maria, and, well, she'd read enough romance novels to know what that meant.
"Was there something you wanted changed?" Maria questioned curiously.
Liesl bit her lip and then nodded shyly. "Well, you see… I always imagined Mother would be at my debutante ball, introducing me along with father," she explained, gesturing vaguely towards her father.
Maria stared blankly. "And your mother… isn't here?" She felt instantly uneasy at pretending not to know this fact, knowing full well how much Agathe's loss had affected the family. But she squashed down the bubbling guilt with an expression of pure innocence and concern, making a mental note to add this to the list of things she needed to confess at church on Sunday.
Georg cleared his throat. "She passed away several years ago," Georg explained gruffly before turning to Liesl. "What's the point, darling?"
"I thought it would be nice to have a little of her in the dress."
"I don't understand," Georg responded with a slight furrow of the brow. He'd heard of these things before. Perhaps Liesl wanted one of Agathe's dresses incorporated into her new dress?
"Mother's wedding dress, well… I haven't seen the actual thing," she started, "and I don't know if it still exists."
It does, Georg wanted to answer, but it was shipped to England, to the Whitehead estate, along with some of her other things just after her passing.
"But I've seen pictures," Liesl continued. "And I know there are flowers embroidered on the waist. I'm not sure what exactly, but I know they're there."
Georg met Liesl's eyes and paused. She looked unassuming, maybe a little scared she was overstepping and taking advantage of her father's kindness, but she was determined. Georg saw that spark of determination in her eyes, a spark he knew too well as having come from him. How could he deny her anything?
"They were Edelweiss," Georg replied after a moment. "Edelweiss flowers, hand embroidered on the dress."
Liesl grinned triumphantly and then turned to Maria. "Oh Fraulein, could we do that? Could we add flowers to the waist?"
"I…" Maria was lost for words. She didn't know what to say to that, really. She was alarmed that Liesl had brought up her mother, but even more surprised that the Captain had indulged it. She schooled her face as she looked at Liesl meaningfully. "Do you mean to add embroidered flowers to the waist?"
Liesl nodded in affirmation. "Is that possible?"
Liesl knew it was. She had seen Fraulein Maria embroider small daises on Marta and Gretl's handkerchiefs. She wasn't unsure if the Fraulein Maria of today still could, but she knew muscle memory could trigger it. It was important to her to have a piece of her mother on such a momentous day, and if it meant a replication of details of her mother's old wedding dress in the form of hand-stitched flowers, then so be it. But more importantly (or in fact, most importantly), she knew adding hand-embroidered flowers was a painstaking task. It would go well beyond the month's time Maria had committed, which was just as well being that the ball wasn't for another 3 months.
Adding those flowers meant adding more time with Fraulein Maria. For herself, and most crucially, her father.
Maria cleared her throat at the sudden request, a little unsure and knowing full well how labor intensive and time consuming the task would be to add hand-embroidered anything on dresses.
"That would take at least an additional four weeks, Liesl. I'm not sure it would be done in time for the ball," she tried.
"The party isn't until October," Liesl replied swiftly. "Another three months. You'll have enough time to do it, won't you?"
Maria bit her lip. "I'm not sure…"
"What aren't you sure of?" came a voice from the door, with Frau Muller and Ingrid coming in to the backroom where Maria, Liesl and the Captain were. Frau Muller smiled at the clients before she turned to Maria expectantly.
"Flowers," Maria replied rather dumbly. "The young Fraulein wants flowers on the waist"
"Fresh flowers?" Frau Muller clarified, studying the pattern cut outs stuck to the dress form.
Liesl shook her head. "No, not fresh flowers, Frau Muller. Embroidered ones. Edelweiss."
"Ah," Frau Muller replied in understanding. "Well, when shall you be in need of the dress?"
"Not for another three months," the Captain replied for Liesl, not entirely sure what had possessed him to become part of this conversation. He knew nothing of dresses, least of all embroidery, and he wanted desperately to leave the premises but stay in Maria's presence all together. He should have known it would be a dizzying affair coming into town today.
Ingrid glanced at Maria, who was looking just a little pale at the thought of spending even more time on the dress. Ingrid had to hide a smile. Oh, Maria was surely regretting ever putting up such a charade.
"Well, if it isn't for another three months, I don't see why we can't add the detail Fraulein Von Trapp wants on her dress," Frau Muller ruled diplomatically. She turned to Liesl. "Maria is one of our most talented dressmakers—I'm very certain she can embroider your Edelweiss for you."
"Really?" Liesl beamed. "Do you hear that, Father? Fraulein Maria can do it!"
"I'm not sure there's anything Fraulein Maria can't do," the Captain answered dryly, sparing a glance at Maria who had turned just a little ashen.
Maria cleared her throat then. "I'm not sure I'd make a very good nun," Maria said. Georg's eyes widened at the familiarity of the phrase, but Frau Muller gave her a questioning glance.
Realizing what she had said, Maria tried to quickly diffuse the situation. Frau Muller didn't know she was part of the abbey once before, and she certainly didn't know that Maria was pretending to have lost all her memory. Feeling slightly panicked, she chuckled.
"It's a joke, Frau Muller," Maria tried. "I've heard someone say it once. I thought it was funny. Me? A nun! Why, it'd be easier to catch a moonbeam in your hand than for me to become a nun."
Liesl blinked.
Georg blinked.
And for a moment there was nothing but awkward silence between the occupants of the room.
And then,
"Oh Maria!" Ingrid giggled a little forcefully. "That's hilarious! I'll be sure to remember that for when my sister Ilse comes. She'd love that joke!"
Holding a sigh of relief, Maria smiled gratefully at Ingrid. "It is rather funny, isn't it?"
"You've always had such a wonderful sense of humor," Ingrid agreed, still giggling, more than the joke required. "Wasn't that funny, Herr Von Trapp?" Ingrid asked, turning to Georg as if in challenge.
Caught off guard, Georg spluttered incoherently. Maria had to hide a smile at the sight.
"Oh yes, yes. Very funny indeed," Georg answered politely, if a little quizzically. "I don't believe we've met."
"Forgive my manners, Sir. I'm Ingrid Gruber, one of Frau Muller's assistants. I've been helping Maria with the patterns for this dress. Organza silk is a bit tricky," she explained.
"It's nice to meet you, Fraulein Ingrid."
Ingrid smiled and then inconspicuously shot a look at Maria.
"Now," Frau Muller declared, mercifully changing the topic. "As I was saying, Maria is very good at embroidery. She can surely do as you wish."
Liesl smiled gratefully at Maria. "Thank you, Fraulein Maria! I know it will take far longer to finish the dress, but that only means I get to see you more."
"Oh," Maria answered with a nervous smile. "How lovely."
"Yes, Maria is definitely quite the character," Frau Muller explained, unaware of the meaning behind Liesl's words. "All our customers love her. They come back when they're in the area long after their dresses are done just to stop by and say hello to Maria. Sometimes, they even bring a box or two of pastries. She's been good luck to the shop."
"Frau Muller, you're far too kind," Maria blushed.
"Non-sense. Many a young lad have come," she explained to Georg. "Quite surprising as we don't usually cater to menswear. But I know for sure they come for Maria."
"Many young lads?" Liesl questioned, sparing a short look towards her father who seemed rather uncomfortable.
Of course men would be interested in her, he thought, no, scolded! Maria was young and attractive, and men surely fell at her feet with something as simple as her sunny smile. He was obtusely aware of the way his jaw tightened and his hands balled into fists at his side, mentally imagining himself… with a shotgun… with Maria's suitors lined in a row.
Georg suppressed a groan—this was not what he had imagined. Didn't he tell her she deserved to find a man? Well, if she found one, she deserved every moment of it. And Georg hardly had any right to be maddeningly jealous at the mere thought.
Frau Muller nodded in confirmation, unaware of the Captain's discomfort. "But our dear Maria seems not to be interested."
"I would be interested," Ingrid pouted, trying to steer the direction of the conversation. "Some of them are handsome indeed."
"Perhaps Maria would benefit from a Debutante Ball herself," Frau Muller mused lightly. "She can meet all the men and choose whoever she likes."
Georg didn't know if he should be relieved. Maria—not interested in anyone. Yes, that was definitely a relief. But Maria, with a debutante ball for herself? Half of Salzburg's gentlemen would surely be lining up for a chance to dance with her.
"I'm far too old for that," Maria answered with finality. "And besides, I'm not really looking. There's quite a lot more world to see, I've been told."
Georg's jaw tightened further. Does she surely not recall anything?
Frau Muller seemed to consider this before she hummed and nodded. "That's true, I suppose. There's a big world awaiting you, my dear," she smiled at Maria, before she excused herself to man the counter.
Maria stared at Frau Muller's retreating form, aware of the way Georg's jaw had tightened ever so slightly at her last remark.
"Perhaps Fraulein Von Trapp would like to come with me to the front, so we can sketch out how you'd like the flowers to be done?" Ingrid offered, sensing the tension and wanting to dissipate it.
Liesl nodded and followed Ingrid out of the room, again oblivious to her father's growing discomfort. Or perhaps she was keenly aware and chose not to intervene, hoping he would find the courage to make things right. Whatever it was, Liesl did not seem to give any indication that she knew of anything of his distress.
Maria was suddenly very mindful of the fact that it was only her and Georg in the workroom now. She took a steadying breath and moved to the drawers, pretending to be busy with fabric swatches. She had many close calls in the last ten minutes, and she was now very seriously regretting her decision to keep pretending she didn't remember them.
If only he knew how much she remembered him. All of them. All of the details. The hand holding. The kissing. The longing touches. The light caresses. Whispered words and love exchanges. Knowing looks across the room. She remembered them all with surprising clarity—how could she ever pretend to not know for the next 3 months? She thought it would be easy, having been deeply hurt by Georg, the ache still a constant thrumming in her chest even when she wouldn't pay it any heed. But it was proving ever more difficult when it had only been ten minutes, how much more would 3 months be?
"Fraulein."
Maria was startled out of her thoughts, shaking her head a little before turning to face him.
"Sir?"
"I apologize for the sudden change in my daughter's request. It was abrupt, and I know it will take more time than you had committed."
"It's not a problem at all, Herr Von Trapp," she replied, her heart still in her throat, pounding nervously.
"Please, call me Georg," he insisted, unsure how he held his voice steady despite the stark reminder of what he had told her the night he broke her heart.
Maria looked at him unsurely. "I'm not sure that's appropriate, Sir. You still are my client."
"We were friends, remember?"
Maria's lips, a thin line. Her eyes, blank. Her face, unreadable.
"No, I don't remember."
A pause, where she thought she saw the Captain's face fall right before her eyes.
"Memory loss—you recall I mentioned it?"
Georg nodded, letting out a slow breath. "Yes. You did mention it," he agreed quietly. "But we were friends, in the past, when you took care of the children."
A beat, and then, "Just friends, Sir?" When he didn't answer, she forced a smile. "Just making sure you're not the ex-lover I was told I had," she continued, a brightness to her voice that sounded fake, even to her own ears before she turned around and went back to the fabric swatches.
"I, um…" he stammered, not sure what to say except, "Yes, just friends. Good friends, in fact. I'm fairly certain I'm not the ex-lover you were told of."
Maria was stunned by the Captain's words. Good friends? Just good friends? After everything? Tears immediately pooled in Maria's eyes at his denial, an invisible hand squeezing her heart almost physically, painful, profound, unimaginable. How could he deny her so? How could be bristle past all of longing looks they had exchanged, all of the declarations of love, the promise of a shared future? Georg was insufferable. She thought he was done hurting her, but now in this room, in this space, separated only be a few steps, he had trampled on her heart yet again. Well, wasn't she the biggest idiot on the face of the earth to let a man break her heart twice?
She took two steadying breaths to calm herself, a miracle she thanked the Lord for because only He would have known how she managed the next few moments.
She turned back him after a pause, a cheerful smile on her face, little remnants of the pain that was written clearly on her face just a seconds ago.
"Relax, Herr Von Trapp, I was only kidding." It amazed Maria how she could act so unaffected when she felt like she was being torn into shreds. Perhaps, she was a better actress than she gave herself credit for.
Georg quietly sighed in relief, releasing the breath he didn't know he was holding, still unsure where he was getting the nerve lying to her this way. He was a poor excuse of a man, wretched as he was, to keep hurting the woman he loved even though she didn't know that what he was doing was hurtful. Deplorable. Cowardly.
How could he feel relieved and burdened all at once?
Clearing his throat, he continued. "Well, I insist you call me Georg, please. My daughter seems to be completely determined to spend more time with you, and it appears I shall too. We may as well start acting like the friends that we were."
Maria offered him a small smile, the loneliness in her eyes surely lost on the Captain.
"My name is Georg Von Trapp," he said, extending his hand, offering her a charming smile. "My friends call me Georg."
Maria looked at the hand, afraid of what it might do to her to touch it. She knew he was electric, that it would send too strong a force down her spine like it always did when they touched.
But she reached out, tentatively, ignoring the jolt, the fire, that traveled from the tips of her fingers straight into her core.
"Maria Rainer," she answered. "Please call me Maria."
On the car ride back home, Georg's hand clutched tightly at the steering wheel, his knuckles white with force.
Liesl glanced worriedly at him. "Father?"
"I know I told you that you had free rein over your dress, Liesl," the Captain started. "But embroidered flowers?" he asked in disbelief, unable to keep just a bit of vehemence from his tone.
"I wanted it to look like mother's dress!"
"You could have gotten a train added, or another petticoat, and it would still look like your mother's dress," he said a little too harshly than he had intended. "Don't forget that I'm your father. I know what you're trying to do."
"What am I trying to do?" she answered defensively, blue eyes sharp.
"You want to spend more time with Fraulein Maria," he accused. "You knew it would take more time to put those embroideries in. You knew it would entail more visits to the shop. Don't think I don't know what you're planning Liesl."
"Is it so bad, Father? To want to spend time with Fraulein Maria?" she countered. Challenged, even, eyes ever so defiant. "You may not want to, but I do. In fact, we all do. And if this is the way to do it, then I'm not ashamed to admit my reasons for it."
Georg exhaled shortly through his nose, more like a huff really, eyes focused steadily on the road.
Liesl softened, realizing how this must be difficult for her father. "If you don't want to come with me, I understand. Franz can drive me into town and I can go on my own."
Georg bristled. "And have you gallivanting in Salzburg unsupervised? Absolutely out of the question."
"Frau Schmidt can come with me. Even Uncle Max. You don't have to if it affects you so."
Typical of his own daughter to be able to read him just as well as he can read her. The intuition, the sensitivity—it was a shared attribute. It often amazed him. But today, it was to his disadvantage.
"Liesl," he began, a little gentler this time, if with a little effort to do so. "Fraulein Maria has suffered greatly. She remembers nothing."
"I know, I was there when she said it," she reminded flatly.
Georg shook his head. "She does not remember… that we were to be married."
Liesl tilted her head to study her father—his tense stature, the loneliness that seemed to diffuse from him, the confusion that was palpable. She was 18 years old now, no longer a child. She understood what had happened between their beloved Fraulein and her father—perhaps not completely, as Georg wasn't entirely forthcoming about the matter. But she understood enough to know that what had happened affected him deeply. Perhaps, if Fraulein Maria could remember, she would be so deeply affected too. It was likely for the better that she didn't. One person miserable because of a love lost was enough.
"I guessed as much," she settled, turning her eyes back on the road as her father drove.
"If you are to spend this much time with her…"
"I understand," she cut in, not needing him to say the rest. That he wished for her not to mention it to Maria. Even if he hadn't asked her of it, she probably wouldn't have the heart to mention it to Maria anyway. It would only break the fragile balance that currently existed between them all.
Maria walked home slowly that day, her mind still racing at the events of that unfolded in the workroom, the afternoon replaying in her mind like a broken record.
She had challenged him—asked him point black if he was more than a friend. She wasn't certain why she had done it. Perhaps a broken heart was enough reason to dare. But she had not been prepared for his answer. He had denied her. Denied their touches, their smiles, their kisses. He had denied their love, instead reducing it all to a good friendship that was borne of their mutual love for the children. He wasn't wrong about that, certainly not. It was their love for the children that brought them together. But he had denied her, like Peter denied Jesus, and it was a betrayal she was not ready to carry.
What was she thinking, asking him of it, if she wouldn't be ready for the answer? She didn't think it was possible to hurt more than she did when he had left her. But she had proven today that it was possible to hurt even more. A love lost was one thing. But a love denied was another beast all on its own.
It made her feel wretched.
Cheapened.
So bone-beatingly furious.
How dare he deny all that they shared? There was nothing more real to her than the love she felt for him, than the family she thought she belonged to. But when asked, he had reduced her. She had never felt smaller in her life.
It was too late in this game to backtrack on her statement about the stupid little accident she got herself into. Accident, she snorted. The only accident was not being in her mind long enough to register that he was standing right in front of her, quick witted enough to come up with a stuffy retort and brush him off right there and then. But she sighed at that—it wasn't in her personality to do that anyway. She was far too kind-hearted to ever brush somebody off, and so callously as she imagined it in her mind. It simply wasn't her to hurt other people, at least not intentionally.
And yet, it wasn't her to lie, either. Oh, she could only just imagine what Sister Berthe would say if she found out. How many times would she be asked to kiss the floor? Perhaps she'd be asked to clean the entire abbey with nothing but her kisses. And even then, she wouldn't have been penitent enough.
She hated what she had turned into. She loved him still, fiercely, without question. And yet, that love had spurned hurt. And that hurt had grown into hate.
Well. Not hate. She could never hate him. Could never wish him ill. But she had not forgotten how it felt the day after he left. How humiliated she was. How worthless she felt. Like she was a piece of trash so easily discarded to the side, as if she had meant nothing. Truly it was only through God's grace that she had any semblance of pride left, that she was able to walk tall, or as tall as she could manage given the situation. It was a miracle she still wanted to be a part of society, when all she knew of it was agony.
She wasn't one for self-pity. She just wasn't the girl who used her past as an excuse for her actions. But could she be allowed one quick moment to be categorically and unequivocally furious?
At Georg for playing her.
At God for leading her to him.
At herself for being so stupid, so minuscule, so unworldly, so… insufficient.
For a moment all was blissful, but their love affair had scarred her, maimed her, made her unable to see love as anything but a passing fancy. And even worse, the affair had made her feel so excruciatingly small. He said she needed to see the world, the he felt he was robbing her of the experiences the world had to offer for someone so young. It was true she was inexperienced, but she wasn't an imbecile. Nor was she a cretin. She knew what she was getting herself into, perhaps not completely, but enough for her to want to commit her life to him and the children. Now she lived with a whistling insecurity about not being enough, experiencing too little, to ever be worthy of Georg's commitment.
If this was what the world had to offer, then why would Georg ever wish for her to be corrupted this way?
If only she really did lose her memory.
It may have served her heart well to have done so.
AN: Okay. Here's a thought. When I was writing this chapter and thinking about a way for Maria to confront Georg, I wasn't sure if it would be totally in character. I wrote and re-wrote this until I realized that confrontation is one of Maria's character traits. In the movie, she confronts the Captain head on, and I briefly pondered on a confrontation of this sort in this story. But such a confrontation felt out of place in this fic, or at least this early on in the story. What I did realize was that she does a bit more confrontation in the film, perhaps with a bit of beating around the bush- at the dinner scene, when she makes the children feel guilty by thank them for the precious gift left in her pocket upon her arrival at the villa. I tried to channel that same energy, of course paired with a bit of angst because obviously Maria has changed, trying my best to keep Maria in character for such a thing.
Anyway. I've babbled. Thank you for reading this far! Please continue staying safe!
