Still plodding onward over here, in between managing COVID and trying to enjoy the fringe benefits of summer. A few more chapters to go, I think (despite M and G nearly spontaneously combusting last chapter... I am not QUITE ready for it, haha). Thank you to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, and following along this meandering journey. Hope everyone is keeping safe, healthy, and sane! xx

The Swiss Alps

She was acting like a child, and he told her as much. His words might have held a hint of exasperation, but his broad grin said otherwise.

It was mid-afternoon. After a sleepy, early-morning start, two transfers, and keeping up the husband and wife façade for a number of stationmasters, conductors, and fellow passengers looking to make small talk, Maria and Georg were finally on the train headed toward Lausanne.

The landscape outside the window had changed from rolling fields to the cragged hills of northern Italy. Maria, who had been quiet all day, grew silent after their second transfer in Milan. She gazed out the window with something akin to reverence as the towering snowcapped peaks of the Swiss Alps rose alongside them. The train twisted through picturesque valleys, yellow and brown in autumn, along lakes so still they could have been enormous mirrors. He watched silently as she raised a hand to the windows, fingers resting lightly against the glass as the mountains towered around her, embraced her, welcomed her. The picture of a mountain girl coming home at last.

If only for this, Georg could not be sorry their journey was coming to an end. To reunite Maria with her mountains… that was something.

As they rolled into the outskirts of Lausanne, an idyllic vision of fields and vineyards and blue sky, Maria became fidgety, tapping her fingers against her legs, knees knocking together, not infrequently bumping into his as she bounced around in her seat, a ball of excitement and nerves.

"Even my little Gretl can sit still when traveling," Georg teased when she finally apologized as she knocked into the cup of coffee he had ordered, which was thankfully almost empty. You look like you have ants in your pants, Friedrich used to say, although Georg largely tried not to think anything about what was under Maria's clothes at all.

"Oh Georg, I was never good at hiding how excited I am – I was worse as a child."

"I can't imagine," he said drily, but he was smiling. Maria would fit right in with his children. He checked the words on his tongue, surprised to find the thought of Maria meeting his children had entered his mind. Georg hadn't yet decided whether he himself would drop in on the children during this trip. He thought vaguely perhaps afterwards, but he couldn't bring himself to look that far.

They both paused briefly as the conductor announced their impending arrival to the station, first in Italian, then French, then German. Maria turned to him, blue eyes alight and cheeks flushed. "My heart feels like it's going to fly out of my chest and oh, I can hardly breathe!"

He smiled, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. She was achingly transparent, her nervousness and anticipation as plainly evident as the dress she wore. It touched him that she made herself so easy to read for him – Georg knew she could hide her emotions with skill if she wanted, her time at the Siren proof enough of that. Last night had been proof of that. Unbidden, his thoughts flashed back to telling her, as gently as he dared, that he was better off sleeping on the couch. The flash of dejection had been instantaneous, her face crumpling, eyes huge with hurt. It'd lasted only seconds, replaced moments later by careless resignation as she teased him again about his pretend-husband status.

They'd prepared for bed together, her digging in the closet for spare bedding to make up the couch despite his insistence that he was completely fine, he waiting for her to climb under the covers before turning off the light. They'd wished each other goodnight in the darkness. They fell asleep in the same room – closer than would have been conceivable mere weeks ago, yet further than he could bear. Maria, at least, seemed to sleep soundly. Georg lay on the couch, listening to her soft, even breathing. He'd done the right thing, and he spent the rest of the night trying to convince himself of it.

Tormenting himself with thoughts that had she been his wife, neither would have slept at all.

His wife.

God damnit.

He shouldn't have set them on that path at all. Georg had been alone too long, and it had been his first time traveling with a woman who was not his wife. Even when he had been prevailed upon by Elsa to visit friends out of town, he had always insisted on a chaperone. Maria… she deserved nothing less. Georg should be ashamed, dragging her through the mud and forcing her to play along with the entire debacle. But remembering their evening… he couldn't regret any of it.

Getting over it… he would worry about that, later.

In any case, the nature of his and Maria's relationship wouldn't be an issue once they arrived. Karl has extended an invitation during his previous visit to his sprawling vista above Lake Geneva, should he return with Maria. Georg had been clear on how he had come to meet Maria, and he knew Karl would never assume what Georg wouldn't confirm. Both of them had seen too much of war to understand that relationships were devastating, powerful, fragmented things.

"We'll have to hire a cab to get to the hospital," Georg explained now, as the train rolled to a slow stop at the station. He had sent Karl a telegram from Ancona and received a reply in Milan, asking that he and Maria meet at his workplace.

Maria's grip on his hand was vice-like. He'd told her the plan on the train, and she'd nodded agreeably. But now they were here, and he could tell how overwhelmed she was.

"Or," he suggested lightly, "we could store the bags in a locker, go for a walk first. We're not in a rush. There's a little patisserie the children discovered downtown which makes a delightful apple strudel."

But Maria took a breath and shook her head determinedly. "No. I'd like to go now. I want to hear… if there's anything to hear, that is."

"Karl may not have time to do a thorough assessment now," Georg reminded her gently.

"I know." Everyone around them was standing, and for a brief moment Maria looked like a young girl, lost and uncertain. But in the next moment she stood as well, with a stubborn lift of her chin he had come to know all too well. "But at least he'll give me some expectations to look forward to."

She reached up toward the overhead compartments to help him retrieve their belongings.

Georg looked at her for a moment longer. Always moving forward with her fierce determination. She would be alright, wherever she was. A stab of relief faded into a lingering feeling of longing.

Maria followed him off the train, keeping close to him as they wove through the crowd on the covered platform. He felt her stop just as they were exiting the station, and turned to find her eyes closed, face upturned to the sky.

"Fresh mountain air," she announced, as she felt him looking.

Smiling indulgently, he tugged her away from the doors so they wouldn't get trampled. "Cold mountain air," he added. It was crisp, brisk with a hint of winter.

Her eyes opened, lashes blinking dreamily. "I've forgotten how the air moves. On the island it's always being pulled or pushed around by the sea – but mountain air dances, and flies, and tumbles, and laughs – "

Georg chuckled. Her sudden invigoration was catching. "Like a brook as it trip and falls over stones on its way?"

She laughed. "My heart wants to sing every song that it hears," she confirmed.

"You'll be able to hear much more when we get to Karl's," he told her, as they began to walk again, heading toward the street. "The mountains around Lausanne are not as dramatic as Salzburg – "

They stopped at the edge of the road, and Georg put out his arm to wave down a cab. Maria nodded, as though it hadn't been one of the first things she'd noted coming in by train.

" – but you'll love exploring them. Karl has a beautiful property and the region is just exquisite."

"Hmm." Maria smiled, something lighting within at the thought. "It was very kind to invite us to stay with him."

A taxi had pulled up alongside them, and the driver got out to help with their bags. "Bonjour," he greeted them cheerfully.

Georg returned the greeting, then turned back to Maria. "Karl has always been generous – almost to a fault." He smiled fondly. "We'll stay until a plan has been made. But I don't expect he'll be home much. He's frequently attending conferences and meeting with experts, when he's not working at the hospital."

"Does he have a family?" Georg opened the car's door for her, and she slid into the backseat.

He chuckled wryly, sliding in next to her. "Karl will tell you he is married to his work." He hesitated, although Karl's past was no secret to any who knew him. "He did have a sweetheart, once. A nurse who did not make it through the war."

Maria covered her mouth, a muffled sound escaping between her fingers. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, full of feeling.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on a loss they had both known so much of. Georg felt rather relieved when the driver got into his seat, turning back to look at him. He leaned forward, giving instructions for the hospital.

As their cab started driving, he sat back to find Maria looking at him. "You spoke German."

He smiled. "Yes."

"I thought these parts of Switzerland speak French."

"They do," he replied. "I thought you might like to know where we're headed. You'll find the Swiss are talented linguists. You'll be hard pressed to find one that doesn't speak at least four languages."

"Four!" Maria gaped at him, then shook her head. "I'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"On the other hand," he said, reaching across the space between them to cover her upturned hand with his, his thumb moving across the pads of her fingers, "I think you'll feel right at home."

And she did.

The taxi driver kept up a stream of pleasantries in German as they wove through the city centre, a picturesque maze of colourfully painted houses and quaint windowsills. The storefronts were familiar, the traffic reminiscent of Salzburg, the signage often in a language she could actually read – Lausanne was both at once comfortingly familiar, and excitingly new.

Maria tried to keep her mind off what they'd actually come for, but the longer they spent in the car, the more she felt her trepidation grow.

She clutched Georg's hand as they pulled up to the hospital, a circular driveway with a fountain at its centre leading to an imposing entrance of curved archways that reminded her more of the Musikverein in Vienna than a hospital. She relaxed her grip slightly as she felt him wince. The driver stopped directly in front of the entrance, opened the door for her, and helped retrieve their bags from the trunk. She was glad he hadn't asked why they were there, as he pointed out the main door and the information desk just inside. Georg thanked the man good-naturedly, although Maria had no doubt he was quite familiar with where everything was.

As the cab drove off, Georg turned and led them, not through the stately entrance, but along a small path around to the side of the building. Maria followed silently, matching her steps to his. He glanced at her. "It's easier to find your way around this way," he explained.

Maria nodded as they turned the corner. One of the long wings of the hospitals stretched out before them – Maria easily imagined the other side of the building being a mirror image – in simple white brick, with neat rows of windows. In contrast to the grand façade of the entrance, the building they now strode alongside felt more like a school than anything, Maria decided, feeling more at ease.

Georg stopped them in front of one of the building's side entrances, a nondescript windowless door. The winding wooden staircase that greeted them was wide and functional, and they took it up to the third floor. It opened to a row of offices, each with carved wooden doorways and an ornate plaque proclaiming the doctor's name and specialty. The floors were a gleaming hardwood.

"This could be a hallway for a prestigious university," Maria whispered as they walked, resisting the urge to tiptoe as well.

"With the credentials of those who work here, it might as well be," he said.

They stopped in front of one of the doors.

Dr. Karl Bonnetsmuller

Maria gaped at the unwieldy title that followed, lips struggling to form a word that seemed to her a mile long.

"Ear, nose, throat surgeon," Georg whispered as Maria stared at the imposing sign. "Mostly the latter."

She felt her heart pick up, the sound rushing through her ears. She barely managed to nod as Georg mouthed, are you ready?

He knocked, the clear sound reverberating down the hallway.

There was a split second of silence. "Oh-ho, Georg! Do come in!" Dr. Bonnetsmuller spoke German in a crisp tenor, with a trace of French accent.

Georg gave her an amused shrug, and pushed open the door to reveal a tastefully decorated office and a smiling man sitting behind a large desk strewn with papers. Maria did a double take. What had Georg told her about Dr. Bonnetsmuller? He had been a highly skilled military surgeon and now a renowned throat specialist. He had lost his beloved and never married. Georg had never said outright, but Maria had pictured someone distinguished, older – with greying hair, perhaps. The man before her couldn't have been older than Georg, with reddish blond hair like her own cropped in short curls, piercing brown eyes and a boyish grin. "Karl." Maria heard the note of genuine pleasure in Georg's greeting. "Developed the ability to see through thick wooden doors? I'm impressed."

Karl stood, coming around his massive oak desk to shake Georg's hand. "Merely a keen memory for detail. I'd remember that arrogant knock anywhere. Though the ability would have come in handy back then, eh?"

Georg chuckled. The two men were of similar height and build, but Maria had the impression they were opposites. Georg was darkness and mystery and elegance, imperious as cool marble even in gladness. The other man seemed bright and energetic, by contrast.

He turned to Maria with a friendly smile. "You must be Maria." He held out his hand.

Maria reached for it. Instead of shaking it, Karl took her fingers with his, as though he were going to bring them to his lips. Instead, he gave them a squeeze, a gesture that strangely seemed both warmly chivalrous and appropriately professional.

"Dr. Bonnetsmuller." She felt a sense of ease with him. "Georg has told me a lot about you."

"Karl. Please." He shook his head, chuckling, his eyes twinkling and faintly puzzled. "The way Georg used to skewer my reputation behind my back, you are very brave to be here."

Georg made a tsking sound at her side. The two men exchanged brief glances, and in a subtle lift of an eyebrow from Georg and a slight widening of the doctor's eyes, Maria read he hadn't entirely expected her to come. She thought back to that night on the dock, when Georg had returned and told her he wanted to take her away from the island – for this meeting, he had said, although his eyes had told a different story.

She swallowed. "On the contrary, Georg sang your praises."

Karl blinked in surprise. Georg chuckled under his breath. "He must be mellowing in his old age," Karl told her, and she had to laugh at Georg's exhale of outrage.

The doctor ushered them into the room, offering them cushioned, comfortable seats in front of his desk. "Still," he said, more seriously now, "what I said before stands. I can't imagine it was an easy decision to make, and I thank you for coming."

Maria spread her hands. "Had I known it was an option, I might have done it sooner."

Karl nodded thoughtfully. "Good sailing?"

There was no doubt the question was addressed to Georg, but it took him a moment to answer. "Very."

"The Adriatic behave for you? No rough patches?"

"None at all."

"Is this a good time?" Maria blurted. She almost wished it wasn't.

"Yes, Karl, we don't want to delay your afternoon." Georg reached over to lay a hand reassuringly on her armrest of her chair.

He smiled. "I was just perusing some journal articles. The rest of my afternoon is wide open." He looked at Maria, and said gently, "I find it's the anticipation that makes most people anxious."

Maria opened her mouth to say she wasn't anxious, but closed it when it was obvious it wasn't true. She nodded.

"We don't have to do this now, but we can."

Karl had the same air of reassurance Georg did, although she imagined Karl acted that way toward everyone, not just with her.

"I would like to," she said resolutely.

He nodded. "Shall we send Georg to the cafeteria for some coffee?"

Maria opened her mouth, and then closed it, confused. It took her a second to realize that Karl was asking if she wanted to be seen alone. She snuck a glance at Georg, sitting beside her. He looked worried, but not offended. They were not family, she realized, and Karl was merely following protocol, offering privacy to protect his patients.

"He can stay," she said meekly.

Karl nodded again, slowly, even as she felt his gaze sharpen on her.

In the next half hour, she understood what made him such a beloved military surgeon. Had she been a soldier, she would have found in Karl Bonnetsmuller a solace in the midst of war. He exuded a sense of peace, of competence, asking traumatic questions and pulling answers in such a composed manner people forgot why he was asking them in the first place. Maria found herself rather calmly telling him about the accident, fleshing out details he didn't already know. She recounted what she knew from the fisherman who'd saved her, from Stavros who had seen her being pulled to shore, from the doctor who had revived her.

The most difficult was reliving her recovery, alone in shock and grief in the island's clinic – a three-bed ward where she had been the only patient in the four months she was there – in so much pain even breathing felt like a thousand knives at her throat.

"Alone?" Karl murmured, so quietly she wasn't sure he had meant to say it out loud.

"Well, no – not alone," she tried to clarify. "The doctor checked on me multiple times a day. The nurse was there. They were both wonderful. Many people I'd met on the island came too… but…"

The doctor nodded in understanding.

Georg's face became drawn as she talked. Maria had never told him the specifics, that day on his boat when she recounted her past she'd been so overwrought the story had spilled in a jumbled mess.

Maria forced herself to go over the days, weeks, months where she relearned to swallow, to speak, to master a simple seven note scale.

Karl listened intently. She liked that he wasn't looking at her with pity. He had probably seen thousands of injuries, she thought, far more severe and debilitating than hers. The idea felt oddly reassuring.

When he was satisfied he had the details he needed, Karl walked them down to his clinic. This part of the building appeared much more like a hospital, with linoleum tiles and fluorescent lights. Everything was a varied shade of beige and smelled like antiseptic. Maria understood why Georg had chosen to go around the outside of the building earlier – they passed so many rooms and hubs she would have gotten lost in an instant. When they arrived at Karl's examining room, Georg stopped outside even as he gestured for Maria to follow.

She paused as she passed him. You can stay, she wanted to say. But her throat seemed to be stuck together. She felt the light touch of his hand on her shoulder. I am here.

When Karl examined her, asking her to think of something relaxing as he inserted a thin flexible camera down her throat, Maria thought of a night on the deck, under the stars. He had her make a variety of sounds, coaxing her along as she stumbled in trepidation.

Maria remained nervous as they walked back to his third floor office, an irrational fear of what Karl would tell her, what he could do, what he couldn't do. Georg appeared calm, his strides measured at her side, but she could read the tension in the set of his lips, the crease of his brow.

She knew him. If Karl could do nothing, he would blame himself for bringing her here.

Her hand slipped into his. Karl paused briefly as they reached his office, his eyes flickering to their joined hands all the answer he needed to forgo the offer to review his findings with her alone.

She and Georg sat in the same chairs they had been given earlier. Karl moved to sit behind the desk, and his movements to her seemed deliberately slow. She felt her heart lift higher into her throat with each passing second.

"Maria," he began slowly. "Firstly, I am just a lowly throat surgeon – "

Next to her, Georg snorted. "Karl," he warned.

" – but I've seen my share of trauma." He shared a glance with Georg, before turning back to her. "What a lot of people don't understand, but you have, is that the mind is the most crucial thing that needs to recover. You had ever reason to fall into despair, but you didn't. The accident forced you to accept your lot, but you did so admirably."

Numbly, she nodded. She understood what he was getting at – no matter what he could do, or what she chose to do, Maria would be fine. She knew that, but it felt like small comfort to her now.

Karl put his hands together in a steadying gesture, and cut to the chase. "Improvement. I am confident I can guarantee improvement, but it is hard to quantify. I cannot guarantee your voice will be just as it was before the accident… in fact, I am almost certain it will not be."

Maria let out a slow breath, processing this. It was as much as she expected, she reminded herself.

"There is quite extensive scarring, likely from the tube that helped you breath. There is also atrophy – muscle weakness of the vocal cords," he explained.

At her side, Georg sat a little straighter. "Atrophy, not destruction," he murmured, almost to himself, his own understanding of trauma injuries kicking in.

"Yes, precisely. Atrophic muscles are still muscles, and they can be rehabbed. Strengthened."

Maria inhaled so sharply it was almost a gasp, staring at the doctor. "You mean… I could have improved my voice with practice?"

"No Maria." Georg's voice was harsh. "Never think you didn't do enough."

Across the desk, the doctor echoed his friend's sentiment with a shake of his head, his voice much gentler. "Not in the sense you're thinking, Maria. Rehabilitation needs expert guidance – often a team, in this case lead by a speech pathologist. You didn't – couldn't – have access to that on the island." He reached a calm hand out toward Georg, who still looked stricken beside her. "Georg is right. You did enough. The question is whether you'd like to make a final push."

Maria nodded slowly. "I might not need surgery." She'd meant to ask it as a question.

"The surgery will help with the scarring, which will in turn increase the movement of the muscles," Karl explained. "But you would benefit from an intensive course of physiotherapy beforehand for surgery to have the greatest success, and you will need therapy afterward to recover."

"How long would the therapy last?"

"Several weeks at least, I would expect."

"And the surgery?"

"It would be a day procedure. There may be weeks of recovery and strengthening afterward before we can really know the outcome."

Months. She was looking at months. It may well be into spring before she found out if her voice could be successfully restored. And Georg – where would Georg be? They had never explicitly discussed it, but she knew neither of them had expected her treatment to take months. She looked at him sidelong, to find him looking steadily back at her.

His eyes had lost the sharpness with which he'd processed the assessment. They were soft, every bit as gentle as Karl's voice, with an added tenderness that warmed her to the core.

"Karl's villa is a lovely little location for stargazing," he murmured.

Suddenly, the long road ahead did not seem nearly as daunting.

Karl cleared his throat quietly, drawing his patient's attention back to him. "Actually, my hope is you can be admitted to hospital while undergoing therapy."

Maria blinked. It felt like the air had been suddenly sucked from the room. She couldn't hear. She couldn't breath. It lasted only a second before she got a grip on herself, biting her tongue before she could say, I don't want to, like a child would. She'd had enough of hospitals to last a lifetime.

"Karl, is that really necessary?" Georg asked, voice sharp.

"I know it isn't what you expected." Karl looked at her steadily, unfazed by Georg. "And of course, you wouldn't have to if it is too much. You will be having several sessions a day. It would be easier if you were on the premise, and that way we can monitor you regularly. You wouldn't be confined to the ward, of course. You can't tell from the front, but the hospital has some beautiful gardens."

Maria took a deep breath, trying to come to terms with staying in a hospital. Again.

Georg was looking darkly at his friend, eyes narrowed. Karl gazed back, brow furrowed, as though they were having a silent debate.

"You can visit," Karl said out loud.

Georg lifted an eyebrow.

"I'll waive the family rule," he muttered.

"And the time limit," Georg hedged.

Karl nodded. "Not overnight. The nurses will have my skin."

Georg frowned.

Karl caught Maria's bewildered expression. "The hospital normally has policies for visitors," he explained. "They must be family and cannot stay for more than an hour at a time."

"Oh." Maria bit her lip. She felt grateful – relieved – that Georg was arguing on her behalf. It meant he planned to stay. Planned to keep her company. She wasn't sure she had the courage to ask.

As though he was aware of what she was thinking, Georg turned to her. "It won't be like the last time," he promised.

Hesitantly, she nodded. "Okay," she whispered.

She turned to Karl. "Okay," she repeated, a little louder.

He nodded his confirmation, his eyes giving little away of what he thought of her choice. "Okay," he echoed. "I will complete the orders for your admission and therapy this afternoon. We'll try to have you in in the next few days, and it would be my pleasure to have you stay with me until then."

"Thank you, Karl," she mumbled, feeling a little dazed.

"I have a speaking engagement out of town tonight, but Georg knows the directions to my house, and knows to make himself at home."

"Thank you, Karl." This time, it was Georg who said it, the words heartfelt. They all knew it was for more than the warm welcome.

Karl was smiling as he stood. "You know, I was rather surprised when you came asking for advice," he commented lightly, speaking to Georg but looking at Maria. "Now that we've met, I am no longer surprised." He didn't move, but it seemed he pulled his gaze back to encompass them both. "It is always a pleasure to see an old friend."

Maria noticed a slight widening of Georg's eyes and a subtle twitch of his lips, like he was responding to something Karl had not said. Olds friends – still attuned to each other after so many years. If Maria hadn't been here, she wondered bemusedly, would they be speaking out loud at all?

She watched as his expression relaxed into a full smile as he too, stood. "Stop underscoring my advanced years, will you?"

"That would be rather like shooting myself in the foot considering I'm your senior."

"By months," Georg scoffed. "And – "

"Yes, yes, you were my commanding officer." Maria was the last to stand, fascinating as she was by this irreverent version of Georg that Karl brought out. The doctor winked at her.

He came around the table and walked his two guests to the door. "Don't let Georg work my horses too hard," he told her.

"What?"

"Georg had a fearsome reputation wielding his riding crop in our younger years." On Karl's other side, Georg covered a rather sudden cough with his sleeve, and Maria was surprised to see Karl's smile twist into an amused smirk. "My horses are older," he continued to Maria, "they deserve to be in pasture, not pushed hard by a demanding aristocrat."

Maria smiled, feeling more like herself again with the men's banter. "There wasn't much riding on the island or at sea" – or much of being an aristocrat, either – "but he certainly is demanding, isn't he?"

Georg had regained his composure, his grin positively devilish. "Demanding, am I?"

Karl chuckled, while Maria hid a flush behind her hands, much to Georg's amusement. Karl murmured some quick instructions to Georg for when they arrived at his villa. The two men shook hands and Karl clasped Maria's hand in his. "We will be in touch soon."

Maria liked Karl – liked his kindness and his obvious intelligence, his easy manners and his friendship with Georg. Anyone else, Maria would have suppressed a sigh. She had a feeling they'd be seeing a lot of each other.

Karl's villa in the Alps didn't feel like the mountains she knew living in Salzburg. It wasn't nearly as wild, with vineyards on one side – Georg told her Karl made his own wine – and meadows on the other. The large house backed onto the edge of a bluff, a straight drop from the expansive veranda into the clear waters of Lake Geneva. She and Georg went for an evening stroll along the pathway that stretched from either side of the veranda, lit by soft lamps overhead, and Maria couldn't help but exclaim at the view of the lake at dusk.

"Karl always did have an eye for beauty," Georg remarked at her side.

Maria thought back to his elegantly decorated house, and a delightful meal of locally caught fish served by one of his cheerful staff.

"He really has no one to share it with?"

"I'm under the impression he does have female company from time to time, if that's what you're asking." He smiled.

"It's just… all of this – " Maria hands swept from the grounds across the lake, " – I wonder if he gets lonely."

Georg turned slightly toward her. "Are you looking to fill the void, Maria?" His voice was soft and teasing, with the slightest edge if she listened hard enough.

"Georg!" She blushed. "I wasn't – I didn't mean… well, I hardly know Karl, and you said he was married to his work. Which he certainly seems to be."

He chuckled, sliding an arm across her shoulders. Sometime between when they'd left Milos and arrived in Lausanne, they'd grown accustomed to these easy touches. "Thank God for that," he muttered.

She couldn't help but giggle. "You're certainly very possessive for a pretend husband."

"Of course I am. I'd be jealous of any man you looked twice at," he swore solemnly. "Never mind the man who had the honour of sharing with you – " a wave of his free hand encompassed their surroundings " – everything that is beautiful."

Maria blinked at the declaration that had gone from playful to passionate in a heartbeat. Oh, Georg…

They looked at each other for a moment, then looked away at the same time. They wandered further down the path, the silence palpable between them, but not altogether awkward.

Across the water on the opposite bank, lights flared into life, twinkling lights that swayed in the breeze, reminding her of strings lights and dining al fresco. Perhaps a restaurant. "So lovely," she murmured, pausing to peer at the rippling reflection below, ethereal like fairy lights.

"What would you like to do, once you've recovered from surgery?" His voice was low in the night. "Perhaps you could construct a theatre here in the mountains and give grand performances, which people would flock to hear."

Maria smiled. "And reel in all manner of female company for Karl?" Georg snorted. "Maybe I shall take up residence as leading lady in one of the premier hotels on the French Rivera."

"Or wander the world, giving master classes."

"I'd have to become a master first."

"It'll come."

"I could be prima donna in the newest opera to sweep across the continent."

"You most definitely could," Georg agreed. "Only don't forget your humble friends when you become famous. Would you visit and sing for me sometime?"

"I will," she promised blithely. "Whether on your little yacht or your grand house in Salzburg, I'll come."

As the words left her mouth, she knew they were true. If he asked, she would go to him, anywhere. And he, pausing in a pool of yellow-white lamplight, turned to look at her, and knew it.

His arm twitched at his side, as though he wanted to reach across the space between them, take her hands, her arms, her waist, to bring her closer.

"My grand house in Salzburg," he began, voice light, "is at this very moment being – "

"Excuse me, Captain Von Trapp."

Maria started, and they turned to find Karl's butler a respectful distance behind them on the path. Neither had heard him approach.

"Pardon me, Captain, fraulein," he said again. He seemed apprehensive, uncertain of what he had just disrupted. Maria gave him a sympathetic smile. "A telegram for you, Captain."

Georg stepped forward to receive it. The glance he gave her was puzzled as he unfolded it to scan the brief note. He frowned, and when he looked up, his eyes were snapping.

"Oh, in the name of – " He crumpled the note in his hand with a curse. "Max, you imbecile," he growled at the note, "you certainly have impeccable timing."

He stared at the telegram for a long moment. The butler, to his credit, had remained impassive to Georg's explosion, waiting patiently for a response or to be dismissed.

Finally, he turned to Maria, looking angry and defeated.

"Georg," she started tentatively, stepping up next to him. "Is everything alright?"

"It's from Vienna." He sighed. "I've been having some of my accounts moved, and now Max is informing me he's run into some issues. There are a few things that require my person and signature to process." He rubbed his temple in frustration.

Maria nodded slowly. Max – Max Detweiler – she remembered, was one of Georg's old friends in Austria. He had been particularly close to the family, helping Georg manage his estates in his absence. "You need to go to Austria," she said at last, understanding.

"Maria, I'm not leaving you here alone." His voice was firm. His hand closed around the paper. "This can wait."

"Georg, I might be here for months." She wrapped her hand around his. "You should go. I'll be fine."

"You'll be in the hospital."

"Yes, one of the best in Europe, you said. In Karl's capable hands."

Georg glowered. Maria gave his hand a squeeze. A matter of urgency had come up for Georg. These things happened. She knew better than to expect him by her side every moment of the next few months. He frowned at her as though she had said it out loud. "He'll write in case of any developments, I'm sure," she persisted. "Although I'm sure I'll just be here, plodding away at therapy."

Sighing, he covered her hand absentmindedly with his other. "These legalities could take several weeks to sort out."

"So take several weeks. And when you're done…" Maria swallowed, lifting her eyes to his, "come back to me."

She held his gaze. He looked at her, searching her face for a long moment. He seemed on the verge of saying something, before changing his mind, and nodded.