AN: Hello! Thanks for your comments on the last chapter. I read each and every one of them and very humbled by your thoughts. Sorry for the rather long author's note up ahead- do feel free to skip it! I just thought I'd address some of the things you guys brought up.
1) I initially thought of giving Maria an OC love interest, but I thought there would be too much going on to add in a love triangle. I think it's more than I could pull off as a newbie writer, but this is FanFiction after all and we have talented authors in our midst who have succeeded in love triangles. The film obviously has it, with Elsa/Georg/Maria, but I didn't think it would be fair to hurt an OC love interest (because in my mind he would probably be PERFECT for Maria) lol. Perhaps in a future fic, or a spin-off of this. We'll see! Def not confident in my writing capabilities just yet to put in such a complexity.
2) I know some of you think Georg is OOC here. I think it's important to note that Georg thinks Maria doesn't know him and their past, so he's really unwittingly hurting her. And I suppose the key here is that he actually does feel bad about it. My darling Captain is just trying to figure things out because he's just been thrown a curve ball— do be patient with him please. He'll be the captain we know and love at some point. Both him and Maria are going through a very distressing time, my poor dears.
3) And on to the matter of Elsa. No they aren't together. But you'll see eventually why mentioning her is important.
Once again, thank you for your very kind reviews! As someone who is only just dipping her feet in writing, it's been a treat hearing your thoughts. There's still a long ways for personal improvement, definitely. Plot and character development are things I try to focus on and probably overthink. But even so, they're still not perfect. It would take a lot of practice to master it, to build up head canons on characters, and to keep them consistent throughout a story. So here we are, practicing! And I'm glad to have you on the journey with me.
Always happy to hear how you think my writing could be improved, but more than anything, just happy to share with you what 18 years of reading SOM fanfic has brought about. As one reviewer said, I suppose you'll just have to trust where the story is going. :')
Love to you all!
The watch Georg had gotten repaired at the store next to the dress shop was ready. He drove into town just after lunch hour, fully determined to steer clear of the shop, or at least of Maria. He avoided looking into the cheerful sign signaling Frau Muller's little boutique, staunchly avoided letting his eyes even so much as graze at the displayed mannequin at the shop window, and avoided thinking that Maria was right next door, only a few meters from him. No, he denied vehemently that all he wanted to do was to walk into the shop and beg, reminding himself that this Maria would not know what do with a man begging for absolution from a sin she knew nothing about.
Or maybe she would know. She knew she had an ex-lover—she had told him as much. Even asked, albeit jokingly, if he was the lover she had been told of. He had denied her. Shamefully. Perhaps it was his chance to be forthcoming, but how could he when it would risk so much, when things were on a delicate balance?
The question disarmed him. There was no way to even defend what he had done, and it seemed the hurt he caused her only compounded on itself. But how could he have admitted it then? It was neither the time or place, and neither of them were ready for the consequences of such an admission. Working to have another chance with her would take careful planning, precision not to deceive, not to be contrived, but to be able to fully show her he was sincere. At this point, however, he was still deciding whether or not it would be a good idea to turn the girl's world upside down yet again. He hadn't yet decided if he possessed the courage (or shamelessness, really) to even so much as ask Maria for another chance. At this point, he was only sure he wanted her to be a part of the children's lives—Maria and the children deserved as much.
He had taken off for the watchmaker at this hour specifically, knowing the dress shop would likely have a client after lunch. That was usual for couturiers. And that meant there would be little chance to encounter Maria as he went off his business in town.
But as luck would have it, right next to where his car was parked was a small bench. And on that small bench was none other than Maria Rainer herself, seemingly enjoying the rare Salzburg sun as she helped herself to a sandwich.
They probably had a staggered lunch hour, he thought ruefully, wanting to smack his head for the oversight. There was no way to avoid her now. He could turn back around and go into other shops until she had finished with her lunch. But there was no telling how long that would take, for knowing Maria, she could be lost in thought for hours.
There was not much choice but to forge through. Perhaps he could greet her and be on his way, feigning an important telephone call back at the villa. Yes, that could certainly work. He could say hello and be on his way, reasoning that something of great importance was in need of his attention as soon as possible.
And such was the plan he had in mind as he walked closer to the vehicle, but then he caught sight of her again.
Hair, golden under the sun.
Cheeks, rosy from the heat.
Blue eyes closed in satisfaction, savoring the warmth of the summer.
Lips turned into a small smile, the wind brushing past her.
Georg stopped short in his tracks, enraptured by her. She was utterly ethereal, he had to remind himself to breathe.
His thoughts drifted to many a time he had paused in his tracks to do exactly this—just stare at her, admire her beauty, her radiance, the youth that emanated from her, the joy that she spread so generously and unknowingly to others. Those times, he could scarcely imagine such an angel could come to love him. He realized now, he was still no closer to an answer to that burning inquiry.
Maria opened her eyes then, as if aware that someone was staring at her, and she caught sight of him from the corner. He couldn't read her expression, but he sheepishly raised his hand in a small wave and walked closer to her. Well—here went nothing.
"Herr Von Trapp," she greeted calmly. "I didn't think I'd run into you today."
Georg shrugged, gesturing to the car parked right in front of them. Without words, Maria understood. She had unknowingly picked the bench that was right next to Captain Von Trapp's car. Just perfect.
"I had some business, with the watchmaker," he explained a little clumsily. Alright, Georg, now is the time to tell her about the important telephone call at the villa at that you'd best be on your way.
He paused, and then, "I had gotten my watch repaired. My youngest daughter, Gretl—she nearly fell into the lake behind our home. I came in time to catch her, but my watch had been submerged in the water."
He held in a short sigh. So much for a clipped hello and feigning imperative business.
Usually, when he was nervous, he had the uncanny ability to keep mum, to seem to the untrained eye simply calculating, contriving. And so to splutter in his nervousness today was definitely out of the ordinary. It seemed only Maria could bring this side of him out, recalling the night proposed and how he babbled about nothing being the same when she was away and that it would be all wrong again if she left.
How ironic it was that the words still rang true today.
He scolded himself for his lack of composure.
Maria seemed oblivious though and had a look of horror on her face, at once concerned for dear Gretl's welfare. "Is your daughter alright?"
"Gretl?" he repeated dumbly
Maria nodded with urgency. "Yes, Gretl!" Oh, she must be seven years old by now. A little lady.
"Gretl is fine," he assured her quickly, taking the seat next to her on the bench. His feet had unknowingly led him to the bench to sit. Yes—so much for imperative business. "She fell into the lake once before, she had great fun. I don't think falling into the lake again would scare her. Although it certainly scared me."
Maria hummed thoughtfully. "I'm glad to hear it. She must have you wrapped around her finger."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged in response. "Your precious watch had to be taken in for a repair, and yet you don't seem at all mad by it. Other fathers would probably be furious." Lord knows, if that ever happened with her uncle, she would have taken a beating or three right there and then. She imagined little Gretl, a solid mass of personality even at five years old, desperately determined and sure. She had to smile at the memory.
He gave her a half smile. "Over the years, Fraulein, you realize that some things, some people, matter more than material things."
She held his gaze for a brief second before she nodded. "Yes. Worldly things don't matter quite as much when we love someone, does it not?"
"Yes," he whispered, taking in her sweet smile. He cleared his throat. "You know, I mentioned Gretl. But there's also Marta and Brigitta and Louisa. And my sons—Kurt and Friedrich. They're all very excited to learn how Liesl has come about you, and they would love very much for you to come over and say hello."
It wasn't a lie, of course. The children were excited, and insisted they all go into town at the soonest possible time to be reunited with their precious Fraulein. But Georg had to remind them that she was…. sick, in a manner of speaking, and it would likely overwhelm her to have all seven of them clamoring over her when she couldn't recall anything. He promised them that in due time, their chance would come. Although Marta and Gretl had been forceful to the point of tears, with Georg understanding that Maria was truthfully the only mother they had ever known, he had to put his foot down. Things were very precariously balanced at this point, and even he felt unhinged at the thought of her. He couldn't dare think what it would do to him to see her reunited with the children.
It would complete him, and it would break him, too.
Maria, for her part, looked decidedly unsure. She missed the children terribly. It was losing them that made losing Georg all the more painful. She knew she had to distance herself from the family if she truly wanted to move on, no matter how difficult it was to be away from her seven charges. And here was Georg, offering them on a platter, unknowingly awakening just another facet of her pain that she had kept neatly away.
"I would love to come and see them too," she admitted slowly. "But I'm not sure this is the right time. You understand, don't you? I've only just learned I was a governess to seven children—bless them! And while I believe they're beautiful, amazing children, I'm not entirely certain that—"
"Say no more, Fraulein," he smiled reassuringly. "I understand. Seven sounds like a lot. They truly are a lot," he chuckled. "I understand if it will be overwhelming."
Georg squashed down the disappointment that attempted to wash over him. The truth of the matter was that he just needed more time with her. Perhaps on neutral ground, if the children were considered neutral ground at all. Perhaps somewhere where there would be people who would diffuse the electricity between them whenever she was near. Whatever the case may be, he needed more time with her. He longed for it, craved for it, not just for absolution for himself or a balm for his soul. He longed for her, period. He was beginning to admit he was willing to take the necessary steps in order to win her back, but he was calculating.
As a naval captain, it was in his blood to be tactical about all matters, and he knew he could not rush making honest amends. He first needed to show her he was worthy of her time. But he hadn't yet figured out how, or if he was even willing to risk the equilibrium that wasn't quite within their grasp just yet.
Overwhelming is one thing, Maria thought. She would surely be overwhelmed—by how much she missed them and how much she longed to spend her days with them. But she would also be overwhelmed with the harsh truth that they can never be hers, no matter how much she wanted them to be. They deserved a mother who was more their stature than anything, for they would grow up to be Salzburg's high society in only a matter of time. What could she ever have to offer them aside from her love?
"I'm not saying no, Captain," she offered.
Georg raised a brow. "Captain?" Surely he hadn't introduced himself to her as captain.
Maria blushed, almost getting caught in the lie she was currently living. "Frau Muller," she explained vaguely. "She told us you were a war hero, decorated by the emperor himself."
"Yes," Georg replied absently. "A long time ago."
Maria could see the wistfulness in his demeanor. How he longed for the sea, for an empire that no longer was. It was as vital a part of him as breathing.
Before she could respond, the bells of the cathedral rang.
2:00pm.
She spent more time at lunch than she had intended to.
Again.
"Oh," she exclaimed, standing up quickly to regain her belongings. "I was supposed to be back at the shop 30 minutes ago. I can never keep track of time, not when the day is as beautiful as this."
Georg stood just as she stood, helping her gather the rest of her things. "You haven't changed a bit," he mused on a small laugh.
Maria stopped short. "I beg your pardon?"
Realizing his slip of tongue, he offered a sheepish smile. "You were always late. Because you always wanted to be a part of nature."
She paused, feeling something flutter in her stomach at Georg remembering such an inconsequential, and yet, such an important trait of hers. But she brushed the butterflies away, reminding herself there was no room for them now, or ever, and instead offered a smile.
"Nature is one of God's best," she explained earnestly. "When you're in it, you've crossed over from the earthly world," she smiled. "You're in heaven."
With that, she took the rest of her things, bid the Captain goodbye, and went about her way.
Georg stayed rooted in his spot, Maria's words ringing in his ear.
Maria had always been wise beyond her years, perhaps more than he ever gave her credit for. And it was her way about the world, the rose-colored lenses with which she saw things, that made her seem innocent, but also maddeningly wise, depending on how one looked at it. Could that have been a jab to him? Surely not—Maria could remember nothing. And she was far too kind to ever deliberately skirt about an issue without resolution.
No, he surmised. This was just how Maria was. Deeply appreciative of the world, living in it through every experience, big or small. How an apfelstrudel could spark so much joy in her, how the sound of the church bells clanging could make her heart skip a beat, how the quiet chirping of the birds reminded her she was alive.
He had been wrong about her in so many ways. Wrong to assume she had not lived. Because of everyone he had ever known, himself included, it was Maria who was truly living. How he failed to see that, he would never be able to truly comprehend.
"This perhaps look a little too tight," Maria said she examined Liesl through the mirror, fitting the dress for the first time. "Can you raise your arm?"
Liesl did as she was told, and Maria nodded to herself.
"Yes, we'll need to adjust this. You can't be dancing stiffly with a tight dress," she said as she wrote down notes on a small notepad.
"It looks lovely though, Fraulein."
"It's not done yet, Liesl," Maria chuckled, the dress only just sewn together and needing to be taken in to fit just right. And of course, there was the matter of the flowers Liesl wanted to incorporate. No, the dress was far from done.
"I know, but it's coming together nicely, isn't it?"
"It certainly is," Maria agreed. "Would you like to show your father?"
The Captain was in the settee in the middle of the shop, waiting on Liesl as she had her first fitting.
Liesl shook her head. "Oh no, I'd rather he didn't."
"Why not?" Maria asked in confusion. "Wouldn't you want his thoughts?"
"I don't want him to see it until the day of the ball," she replied surely. "It'll be a surprise."
"I'm not sure if you can keep such a thing a surprise for long. After all, he comes with you to every visit. At some point he'll want to see it… to check if it's as modest as he deems fit."
Liesl scowled, recalling the issue with the dress' neckline. "I'm 18. Surely I can make my own decisions?"
"Of course you can," Maria said amicably as she adjusted the bodice around Liesl's form. "But as long as your father is financing this dress, I think he would still demand to have a say on the matter," she chuckled.
Liesl seemed thoughtful for a moment, allowing Maria her ministrations. "What were you doing at 18, Fraulein?"
Maria looked up and blinked unceremoniously at the question. "Me? I…"
"Oh!" Liesl blushed, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I forgot you don't have any recollection of those times. Do forgive me, Fraulein."
"Nothing to forgive," she smiled, hastening to reassure her.
At 18 though? She was just getting ready to leave her uncle behind and join the sisters, most certain she wanted to become a part of the abbey. How things have definitely changed since then. Perhaps Georg was right. She truly did not know enough of the world to conclude on what she wanted to settle on.
Liesl nodded. "How are you though? I mean, how does it feel, not knowing about your past? It must be difficult."
Maria swallowed. Oh how she hated lying to the girl. Liesl was young and impressionable, who knows what she might take away from all this!
But Liesl was oblivious to her thoughts. "I couldn't imagine not having memories of my mother," she continued. "She died when I was 13."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Liesl shrugged. "Sometimes I feel like her memory is slipping away from me. Often I have to wrack my brain to remember how her voice sounded like," she admitted almost shamefully. "It's terrible forgetting all that when it means so much to me."
"Well… I don't doubt that it's difficult Liesl. But my case is entirely different. You're cognizant of forgetting. And I, well, I forgot everything all at once. There were a lot of frustrations afterwards, when I couldn't even remember where I had come from—thank goodness for Ingrid or else I would have been completely blank. I surmise it must be harder for you, darling."
Liesl only gave her a small smile.
"But I promise you Liesl, your mind will not allow you to forget someone who means so much to you. Your mother is always in your heart, in parts of your life you didn't imagine she would be. All you have to do is to look, and she is there."
This, Maria knew to be true. Her memories of her own parents often felt so far away, as if they had occurred in a different lifetime. But if she looked long enough, searched within her hard enough, she found that the most quintessential things were still ever present.
"That's very kind of you to say," Liesl answered sincerely, moved by the sentiment.
Maria nodded and then continued her work on the waist line, trying to make sure it wasn't too tight, and that it would be able to accommodate the embroidery Liesl wanted incorporated in it.
There were a few moments of quiet, Maria working on getting the form right, the only sound being a whirring sewing machine somewhere in the backroom.
"Fraulein, I hope you don't mind my asking," Liesl started tentatively, breaking the comfortable silence, "and you can choose not to answer it if you so wish. But... do you mind if I ask you how you lost your memory?"
Maria almost pushed a pin directly into Liesl's skin at the inquiry, thankfully stopping herself and gaining control of her senses.
"You said you took a tumble," Liesl continued. "But… I suppose I'm just wondering how it all happened. It must have been a dreadful fall for it to have erased, well, everything."
Liesl asked for her own benefit. There was no question how much Maria had meant to her, and how excited she was to have a new mother, a friend she could trust, a constant sunny presence in their home. And she made their father happy, which, after their mother died, was such a tall order. They had shared so many moments, conversations about life and love and books and poetry that it was challenging to accept that those were all wiped out from her beloved Fraulein 's memory. She wanted to come into terms with it too, while at the same time trying to find the best way to rebuild her relationship with the woman who so clearly meant the world to her family.
From across the room, Ingrid's head perked up at Liesl's question. She was working on her own dress when she heard Liesl and Maria talking, the young girl's curious question reaching Ingrid's astute ears.
Oh, here we go.
"Well, you see…" Maria tried to explain. "I don't really remember much."
She mentally cursed herself for not having thought the reason out sooner. Why, it should have been the first thing she had a believable story for! But she was nothing if not consistent, and her unpreparedness seemed to always be on the spotlight these days.
Ingrid made her way across the room, under the guise of pulling some colored pencils from a drawer, meeting Maria's pleading gaze.
"Surely someone must have told you what happened," Liesl pushed.
Ingrid cleared her throat and walked to the pair. "Are you asking about how Maria lost her memory?"
Liesl perked up. "Yes! Do you know, Fraulein Ingrid?"
"Do I ever!" Ingrid exclaimed dramatically, sharing a significant look with Maria. "I was with her when she fell."
"Oh!"
"Maria has always been rather clumsy, you know."
Liesl nodded, her attention fully on Ingrid. "Yes! And tomboyish. Like my sister Louisa."
Maria was grateful to be behind Liesl's skirt as she blushed all the way up to her neck.
Ingrid chuckled. Ingrid was a much better liar than Maria was, that was for sure. "Yes, she rather liked climbing trees."
"Oh, is that how she fell?"
Ingrid met Maria's eyes briefly before she nodded, handing Maria some push pins to distract herself. "Yes, we were picnicking at the Kaipromenade about a year ago. It was a lovely day. You know how Maria is when the day is lovely."
"Yes—she always loved being a part of it."
"I still do," Maria asserted as she pinned a part of Liesl's dress, allowing Ingrid to spin the tale because she didn't believe she had the capacity to come up with a believable story on the spot. She was a terrible liar, and she thought it a miracle to have lasted this long in her ruse without being caught.
"She certainly does," Ingrid agreed. "Maria loves apple strudel—"
"Crisp apple strudel!" Liesl interjected. "It's one of your favorite things, isn't it Fraulein?"
"Yes, how did you know?" Maria asked, even though she knew exactly how Liesl was aware of it.
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudel.
Oh, how was it possible to breathe at this point?
"Anyway—" Ingrid interrupted, continuing her tale, not allowing Liesl the chance to answer. "We were picnicking and we saw an apple tree not too far from where we sat. Maria thought it would be a nice idea to pick some apples to make strudel."
At this information, Liesl looked apprehensive. "There are apple trees on the Kaipromenade?" she questioned dubiously.
Maria nodded with a bit of authority. "You'll have to walk a little farther down," she explained, even though she knew it was unlikely that apple trees grew on the banks of the Salzach.
"So Maria hiked her skirt up and climbed a tree to pick some apples. But on the way down…"
"Oh no," Liesl said with a sense of dread. "Fraulein!"
"The branch she was holding on to broke, and she fell, hitting her head on the ground," Ingrid finished without blinking, without flinching, the perfect person to tell such a tale. "It's a miracle that none of her other bones were broken, but she had a severe concussion. She woke up remembering nothing at all."
"Oh Fraulein, that's terrible!" Liesl exclaimed as she turned around and bent to hug Maria. Maria squatted rather awkwardly, a pin cushion in one hand and a few pins on the other, surprised by Liesl's gesture. And then she softened and rubbed Liesl arm with the back of her hand.
"It's quite alright Liesl. You see, I'm fit as a fiddle now."
"Something more could have happened. You could have broken your neck! Or your wrist—then you'll never be able to sew or play your guitar again." Liesl slowly stood up, taking Maria's arms so she was standing as well. "Fraulein, you could have died."
"Well, thankfully Ingrid was there. She called for help immediately."
"Please don't climb any more trees, Fraulein," she entreated, looking at Ingrid as if to make her promise never to allow her beloved Fraulein to climb another tree. "It's much too dangerous."
"I promise."
Liesl looked at her with imploring eyes before she hugged her again, a little shaken by the thought of nearly losing Maria to an unfortunate accident. When Liesl pulled back, she smiled. "I'm confident your memory will come back, too. It may take a while, but surely it will."
Maria managed a small smile. "I hope so."
"I know so," Liesl grinned before she turned back to the mirror and examined the dress once more.
Unbeknownst to her, Ingrid and Maria exchanged a significant look, with Maria mouthing a short thank you. Ingrid could only shake her head. Somehow, Ingrid knew, all of this would come back to bite Maria in the behind. It was only a matter of time.
"That took much longer than I expected," Georg remarked as Liesl and Maria emerged from the dressing room. "Too many alterations? Perhaps Liesl is gaining a few pounds."
Liesl made a face at her father's teasing, but Maria only shrugged. "The first fitting usually takes the longest, Sir."
Georg rolled his eyes. "How many times must I tell you to call me Georg?"
"Only about a hundred more," came Maria's cheeky reply. Liesl looked between Maria and Georg before she cleared her throat.
"I promised Marta a chocolate croissant from the patisserie. I'll be quick, Father."
"Let me come with you!" Georg called, but Liesl was already halfway out the door.
"It will only take a moment, there's no need to come," was what she said as she exited the shop.
Georg and Maria watched the door close shut behind her. They were alone in the shop's small receiving area.
"She's a determined one, isn't she?" Maria commented as she turned and took her place behind the counter and pulled out the appointment book.
"I believe she gets that from me," he agreed, following Maria to the counter.
"I've no doubt of it, Captain," Maria replied with smile before she opened the book. "Let's see. I'll have to make the adjustments on Liesl's dress. Perhaps you can come on Friday, so she can fit it with the alterations."
Georg nodded, not bothering to think of his own schedule. Anything that would coincide would just have to be erased out. "Friday it is, Maria," Georg replied, walking up to the counter. "Same time?"
Maria scanned the appointments and shrugged. "We have a slot an hour before closing time, at 4pm. Would that be alright with you?"
Georg nodded again. "Friday at 4pm."
"Good," Maria said as she wrote it down on the book, her neat cursive slotting into the lines like rote.
Georg stared at her, the way her fingers moved gracefully as she wrote. He didn't realize something as trivial as writing could evoke such sensual feelings in him.
He cleared his throat to gain her attention. "There was another thing I'd like to ask."
Maria looked up from the book and met the Captain's gaze. "Yes?"
"Well, you see, I know the shop is usually for young ladies and, well, their mothers."
"Yes?"
"But I was wondering if I could bring my two youngest—Marta and Gretl, in for a dress to wear for Liesl's party. They won't be staying long, just an hour or two to quell their excitement for a party at home, so they won't need any extravagant dresses. But they'll need something nice, and I was hoping you could provide that service."
Maria looked inquisitively at Georg. Was he to eventually bring all the children to Frau Muller's shop? She wasn't certain Frau Muller would be too pleased to have quite so many children in the vicinity. And Maria didn't think she could handle even more time with Georg and the children.
There was also the matter of little girls' dresses. They didn't usually cater to little girls, not in a place like this.
But if she were honest (which was not a lot these days, Lord forgive her), in a heartbeat, she would make dresses for them. She thoroughly enjoyed making play clothes for them, and would have continued making sensible clothing for each one if Georg hadn't offered to buy them alternates to the straight jackets.
"Just Marta and Gretl?" she asked curiously.
Georg shrugged. "Brigitta will be wearing something Louisa used to own but never got to use. And Louisa, she's not very much into these things and has opted to just wear one of Liesl's old dresses. They all have very different personalities," he finished a little apologetically.
"I think it's marvelous that they all have different personalities. They're all growing into themselves."
"Yes, I suppose," Georg answered a little unsurely. "So, about Gretl and Marta?"
The shop certainly didn't cater to such… petite… clientele. And she knew if she asked Frau Muller, Captain Von Trapp would be directed to the dressmaker across the street who made dresses specifically for children. Frau Weber was known for it, in fact.
"We're not that kind of dressmaker, I'm afraid."
"I see," Georg answered, trying his very best to hide his disappointment.
Maria didn't know what had possessed her to say what she did next. Perhaps it was a strong desire to see the children again—all of them. No matter how many mixed feelings that evoked and how unsure she was about her capacity to keep pretending she had lost her memory.
Or maybe it was the lost look on the Captain's face, still bearing the remnants of a widowed father to 5 daughters, who knew nothing about dressing up girls, let alone little girls. Baroness Schraeder could certainly help, wherever she may be, but that thought didn't really occur to Maria until much later.
Or perhaps she said what she said simply because she still loved him, and wanted to give him all that he asked (a point to be considered later, as it was a point she was unwilling to admit, let alone act on, at this time).
So with little thought, she offered.
"Well… I get weekends off," she started slowly. "And if someone took their measurements for me, I could probably make them a dress each in my spare time. It probably won't be as extravagant as any of these," she said, gesturing vaguely to the dresses on display, "but they'll be suitable for the ball you're throwing."
"I couldn't possibly impose," Georg started, but was stopped when Maria held up her hand.
"You did insist we were good friends before this," she said lightly, with a confidence she would question much later in the day. "Let me do this for a good friend."
And there it was again. The acute awareness of the Maria he knew and loved, ever the helper, always willing to give a hand when she could. So much kindness and sincerity built within her bones, second nature to her even after she'd lost all her memory. She was still in there, he was certain of it. All of the things he loved about were still there, and he stood mesmerized by the woman she was.
There was nothing contrived about this, Maria was sure in her heart. She didn't plan on pretending to have lost her memory, but now that she was riding with it, she also didn't plan on being kinder than she usually was. No—this wasn't even out of the ordinary for her. She offered herself generously to others, especially if she was aware they were struggling in some way or other.
"I… would truly appreciate that," he replied sincerely.
Maria smiled. "If someone could take their measurements for me," she started, pulling out a piece of paper to scribble what she needed, "and have these sent to me by the end of next week, I should be able to make their dresses in time for the party." She handed him the piece of paper that contained what she would require: arm length, waist, hips, front waist length, back waist length, and so on.
Georg felt dizzy just by looking at the piece of paper.
He cleared his throat. "By any chance would you… be able to give instructions on how to measure these?" He knew what arm length meant, in a general sense. But did Maria mean shoulder to wrist? Or shoulder to the tips of their fingers? It was a perplexing thought, a matter he'd never had to learn because Agathe, and then Maria, had always been on top of it all. Surely he was overthinking it, but did Frau Schmidt know how to take these measurements herself? With her slowly failing eyesight, Georg was doubtful the measurements would come out rightly.
"Oh dear," Maria chuckled ruefully, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. "This would be harder than I thought."
Georg scratched the back of his head. "Well, the offer to come and see the children still stands," he tried. "Perhaps I can invite you to dinner after Liesl's fitting next week? You can take Marta and Gretl's measurements, and meet the rest of them at the same time." He paused, taking Maria's expression in. "I know you said you weren't ready to be overwhelmed by 7 rowdy children, and I certainly don't mean to pressure you. But if you'd perhaps consider? I can drive you back home after dinner."
Maria pursed her lips in thought. Oh, she really would love to see the children again. Surely a week to prepare for the dinner and make sure her story was straight as a pole would be enough. She would practice, perhaps to the point of believing the lie for herself? It was a dangerous thought, but she shrugged it off.
Slowly, she nodded in acquiescence, ignoring that whispering voice in the back of her head telling her it was a bad idea if there ever was one.
"Friday, after Liesl's fitting?"
"Yes," Georg confirmed with a small, hopeful smile.
A pause, and then,
"All right, then."
Georg could only grin.
"You seem to be in town more often," Max observed.
Georg raised a teasing brow at him. "And you are worse than a jealous wife."
"I only mean to say, that you are in town more often," Max continued, unshaken.
They were seated at the salon, the children having been tucked in for bed after too much excitement. Liesl spoke on and on about the dress and Fraulein Maria, and told everybody about Maria's fall from the apple tree at the Kaipromenade. Georg didn't even think apple trees grew on the Salzach's banks, but that's what Maria had been told by her friend, and it was all they could rely on. Georg had revealed that Maria would come next week for dinner, to take Marta and Gretl's measurements, and there was absolute pandemonium among the children. It was a miracle they were even tucked in at all tonight.
"Is that a problem?" Georg countered, dodging the question under Max's statement. Georg knew where was Max was headed, knew it far too well from the quizzical glint in his eye.
Max shook his head and crossed his legs. "Not at all."
"Liesl needs a chaperone to her fittings," he explained, a flimsy excuse he was well aware of. He wasn't certain why he even bothered to uphold his pride when Max could see right through him.
"I could do that, you know. Franz could drive us into town, and I'd even treat the young lady to some tea." When Georg didn't answer, he chuckled. "Maria has you wrapped around her dainty little fingers and she doesn't even know it."
"Yes," he replied blandly.
Max hummed thoughtfully. "And these fittings… you talk?"
"Sometimes," Georg replied, his tone short. "It's highly inappropriate for me to be in the dressing room where Liesl fits the dress. So whatever talks we have, I'm afraid, are nothing but pleasantry."
"And yet you've managed to invite her over for dinner," Max pointed. "I've always known you had your way with ladies Georg, but I didn't think you still had it."
"What do you mean?"
"To invite a lady to dinner is a challenge," Max replied with a sly grin. "And to invite her to dinner with your seven children. Well, you may as well have circumnavigated the world single-handedly!"
"You think I've lost my touch?" he challenged with a raised brow.
"I think you're playing with fire," Max answered him with a sobriety that was unusual for the impresario. "What does she know of the children?"
"That she was their governess."
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"Oh, quit beating around the bush, Georg. What does she know about you? About the two of you?" he pressed.
Georg scowled at Max, thinking it was to his disadvantage that Max could read him so. "She thinks we were good friends."
"Surely you put that idea into her head."
"Max—"
"Come now. A blank slate? I'm certain you couldn't resist it."
"It wasn't that I couldn't resist it," Georg sighed, throwing his head back on the settee. "But it was all I could manage."
Max raised a brow at him, expecting him to elaborate.
"She asked me rather jokingly if I was certain I was only a friend, because she'd been told she had an ex-lover who left her," he explained sourly.
Max frowned. That was certainly forward of Fraulein Maria, but what on earth did he know about her now anyway? But he looked at Georg and somehow he could sense exactly what Georg had said in response to her inquiry.
"Oh don't tell me. Don't tell me you denied it!"
"Well, what else was I supposed to do?" Georg groaned in exasperation. "Was I supposed to admit that I was the ex-lover who had scorned her? In the middle of a dress shop—a place of work? It was hardly the right moment for it."
"But you denied her!" Few things could shock Max at this point, but this had truly surprised him.
"I never said I was proud of it," Georg said harshly.
Max bit back the retort and swallowed, watching Georg battle within himself. A certain darkness had covered his features, and Max knew beyond doubt that this was eating him up inside.
"How was I supposed to admit it, Max?" he asked quietly. "To admit that I had played a hand in hurting her. It seemed that the knowledge haunts her—knowing she had been left behind but not knowing by who or under what circumstances." He sighed again, thinking back to the bright smile Maria had sent him just seconds after his answer, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. How he longed to take that pain away from her!
"Perhaps you can be more forthcoming when she comes to meet the children," Max suggested.
Georg scoffed at the thought. "And lose her forever? I don't see how old Maria or new Maria could ever forgive such a deception."
"Old Maria and New Maria?" Max questioned with amusement.
He shrugged. "Well—she's not the same person, isn't she? She is without the experiences that made her who she was before the accident."
"And yet you find yourself still absolutely enthralled by her."
There was no use denying it. "Find me someone who hasn't been captivated by her."
"I suppose that's true," Max conceded after a pause. "Well, what do you plan on doing then?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Max questioned dubiously. "You're scheming. I know that look when I see it."
"I am not scheming," Georg denied vehemently. "Scheming is for boys without any good intentions."
"Funny, that sounds exactly like you when we were in the navy," Max teased. "Now tell me, what is it you plan on doing."
"I told you, nothing," Georg replied as he stood up to pour himself a drink, the drink cart sitting in the far corner of the room so his back was towards his old friend. "It stands that Maria deserves more than I can offer. She loves the children, the children love her. The children are all I can offer her that would mean anything to her, really."
"And what about yourself? You don't think you can offer her anything?"
Many nights he'd thought about this. He had initially thought he could offer her the world, and then the doubt creeped in and he realized he wasn't the world. And Maria deserved nothing less. If he could give her only less than that, was there anything to offer at all? There was no question in his mind how much he loved Maria. He felt alive in her presence, drunk with her affection, felt purposeful in life. For the first time in years, he felt that there was meaning in living. She allowed him to see the beauty in the smallest things, the joy in the saddest of things, the grace in the hardest of things. He loved her more than he could ever put into words.
At Georg's silence, Max frowned. "If I know Maria at all, it's that it takes very little to make her happy."
"Yes," Georg agreed, slipping the cork back in the whiskey and making his way to his seat.
"She wants for very little," he continued. Lord only knows, the girl was imperfect, human, and never expected perfection from anyone around her. She was the right counterbalance to Georg's severity and often suffocating need for order and discipline. She did not need one to be faultless—she only needed one to be sincere. "Only your presence. Surely, you can give her your presence."
Georg paused at this, looking curiously at Max. "What are you trying to say?"
"Nothing I haven't told you before. That this is your chance to make things right, Georg. Very little people have the chance to do it all over again. Don't you want another chance with her?"
"I do," he said, "but it isn't that simple, is it?"
"The only person complicating is you," he replied honestly. "Just be yourself. Show her who you truly are. Perhaps she'll come to realize herself that you might just be worth her time."
Georg considered this. He had already thought as much. He was certain he could pull off a way to show her how sincere he was in making it work, after he had been honest with her. But the matter still remained—was the risk worth it?
Maria was only getting her life back on track after her fateful accident, and she was still licking wounds she did not know how she acquired. It was tempting to swoop in like a knight-in-shining armor, ready to save her from her misery, willing to bury the past behind them. But he still thought himself an honorable man, and nothing was more disingenuous than pretending to be a savior when he was, in fact, the villain.
He decided that if he indeed wanted to try, he would have to be honest. But where was he to find the courage to be honest, and the readiness for the consequences of such honesty—for himself, and for the children? And then after that, where was he to find the courage to even ask for another chance when he had surely signed off on this rights that evening at the abbey?
He had often been described as a fine and brave man. There was a point in time that he actually believed it. But these days, there was nothing fine or brave about him.
AN: There's a lot of internal conflict for both Maria and Georg. There's a part of me that wants Maria to make Georg really work for it, but he hasn't yet decided if he's worthy of another chance, and it's not in her nature to be vindictive. At any rate, I suppose we'll all see the following chapters.
Sorry, this was a pretty long installment! Hope I didn't bore you! Thank you for reading- see you in the next one!
