Chapter 4: INTO THE WOODS
Long after her racing pulse slowed, long after she'd locked the bedroom door and left a small light burning for comfort, Maria lay awake, so unsettled by her encounter with the Captain that she was unable to sleep.
Captain von Trapp had always been prone to moodiness, but she had never seen him quite so volatile. Maria's charitable nature kept trying to make sense of his behavior, which had bounced from rude to flirtatious to threatening to businesslike to reassuring, all in the course of a quarter-hour. He was undoubtedly heartbroken, what with being forced to flee his beloved homeland in the wake of the unfolding disaster in Austria. And of course, there was the disappointment of his broken engagement to Baroness Schrader, Maria thought, with a little prickle of remorse at the role she might have unwittingly played in that situation.
But there was a silver lining to the night's events, she told herself: their brief reunion had firmly tipped her heart away from Captain von Trapp. His disturbing behavior made it easier to see that her feelings had amounted to nothing more than a girlish crush, fed by the magical setting of the villa and the warmth of his family's rekindled affections, a crush that had melted away and left a cruel joke in its wake. Although for now, she might be married to the Captain – incredible as that was - it would be for the best when she could be away from him for good.
The next morning dawned hot and sunny. As promised, the Captain was nowhere to be seen. While shepherding everyone through their morning routines and breakfast, Maria talked excitedly of their upcoming holiday in Italy, as much to distract herself as anything else, and she felt a little rush of gratitude to have Liesl as her co-conspirator.
"Why can't Father go with us to Italy?" Marta complained.
"Oh, you know Father, he is ever so busy," Liesl said airily, "and we'll have a better time without all of his rules, anyway, won't we, Fraulein Maria?"
"Your father will join us as soon as he can," Maria laughed, turning to pull the massive front door closed behind her. While Liesl led the group toward the gate, Maria looked upward, scanning the villa's imposing façade one last time, and she felt her throat close with a surprising swell of emotion. When she'd run away weeks ago, she hadn't stopped to think about how much this place, which had so intimidated at first, had come to mean to her. She would probably never see it again, but it would always be in her heart.
The Salzburg train station was extraordinarily crowded. Porters laden with luggage trudged behind scurrying passengers, the buzz of their conversation blanketed underneath a constant blare of announcements. Clutching the tickets in one hand and Gretl's hand in the other, Maria led her crew toward the platform for the Milan train. Hot clouds of damp steam and burning smells filled the air. She tightened her grip on Gretl and double-checked that Friedrich had hold of Marta. Just a few more meters, and the first step in their journey would be complete.
"Fraulein Rainier? Maria Rainier!"
Maria turned to find a small man, his face pinched in a sour expression, glaring at her. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place him.
"I am Herr Zeller. The Gauleiter."
Zeller? Maria felt a little prickle of unease. Hadn't Captain von Trapp mentioned him?
"Liesl," she said calmly, gently pushing Gretl toward her oldest sister, "Liesl, darling, please get everyone onto the train. How do you do, Herr Zeller? And – ehrm – perhaps you haven't heard," she glanced over her shoulder to be sure the children were out of earshot, "but I am no longer Fraulein Rainier. Captain von Trapp and I were married yesterday."
"So it's true after all!" the little man said, managing to fit more insolence into five short words than Maria would have thought possible. His moustache twitched with amusement. "I had to see it for myself! Weren't you at the Captain's party for Baroness Schrader?"
Maria self-consciously thumbed the wedding ring she'd slid on her finger this morning, like a little girl playing dress-up.
"I was, yes."
"Weren't you the governess?"
"I was, yes."
"And a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey?"
"I was, yes."
"And now you are the Captain's wife? I suppose that when the Lord closes a door, He opens a window," Zeller chuckled. "How fortunate for you, Baroness von Trapp."
Maria felt her cheeks burn with shame. Which was ridiculous of course; she had nothing to be ashamed of.
"How may I be of help to you now, Herr Zeller?"
"I don't suppose that your sudden departure has anything to do with the Captain's commission to Bremerhaven?" Zeller asked. He peered at her intently. "You do know about his commission, don't you?"
"I do, yes, of course. Captain von Trapp and I were in agreement that the children and I would only be a distraction, and so I am taking them on a holiday until school starts," Maria added, offering the alibi they'd worked out.
"Maria? Maria, darling!"
She turned instinctively toward the familiar voice, floating out strong and clear over the commotion on the platform. A moment later, and the Captain was by her side, tucking his arm around her waist in a demonstrative gesture that made her heart skip a beat.
"Zeller, I see you've met my bride. I wasn't sure I'd be able to see her off personally, but here I am, and just in time! Aren't you glad to see me, darling?"
This side of the Captain, so affable and relaxed, did not show itself very often, but after a summer at the villa, Maria had enough experience to know that underneath, he had not stopped observing and strategizing.
"Yes, Cap – I mean ehrm – dear," she stammered, hoping that her downward glance would suggest bridal modesty, rather than acute embarrassment.
"You are sending your family to Italy without you, Captain?" Zeller asked. "After your deployment, it may be months before you're together again, you know. I hope you are not foolish enough to try and follow them!"
"I would prefer my family be out of harm's way, so that I don't have to worry about them while I prepare for Bremerhaven. That is all there is to it," the Captain said tightly, letting go of Maria's waist so abruptly that she stumbled. "And now, Herr Zeller, if you would excuse us for a moment?"
He took Maria's hand in his and bent down. By the time she registered the dry brush of his lips on her cheek, he was upright again, although he kept hold of her hand.
"Come on, Zeller. I'll walk out with you, if that would help settle your mind. Goodbye, Maria."
Just before the Captain walked away, he gave her hand a little squeeze. Good job, she knew he meant, and good luck.
She squeezed back.
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Their voyage to Milan was long and tedious, punctuated by a few moments of drama at the border. Maria couldn't shake the feeling that Herr Zeller would somehow materialize to stop them, but in fact, the Austrian guard barely examined their papers, choosing instead to look apprehensively at Gretl as though she were a large dog rather than a small girl. The older children found this hilarious, but their mirth vanished when the Italians decided to search every one of their knapsacks.
Maria's heart climbed into her throat when the Italian guard unearthed the Captain's carved wooden box from the bottom of her bag and shook it menacingly at her. When she opened the box for him, they both stared at the contents: a photo of a much younger Captain with a beautiful young bride, all blond curls and blushing cheeks, perched on his knee while they gazed adoringly at each other. His Maria Theriesen medal. And two wedding rings, both worn with age: one small and the other larger: it was the ring he'd worn on his finger yesterday. Why had he removed it?
Fortunately, the Italian guard lost interest in the box and handed it back to her with a shrug. As soon as he turned his back, Maria slid the wedding band off her finger and popped it into the little box. Although it was quite slim, it had felt awkward and cumbersome on her hand, and now that they were safely across the border, she told herself that the greater risk was that the children would see it and ask questions.
The central Milan station was mobbed by a sleek, sophisticated crowd who all seemed to be rushing off on matters of tremendous importance. Rumpled and out of sorts after the long journey, Maria and her charges stumbled out of the station into the heat and glare of the late summer afternoon. Before them lay a plaza thick with traffic: long, elegant sedans in black and green, sporty little coupes in red and yellow, boxy white cars bearing the logos of police and other officials. Here and there, sleek pairs of horses pulled stylish landaus and broughams. Over the clamor of honking horns and shrill police whistles, and distracted by Kurt's squabbling with Brigitta and Gretl's irritating whine, it was several minutes before Maria heard it:
"Von Trapp-a! Von Trapp-a!"
The shouted words were barely recognizable. But against the bustling backdrop, it was impossible to miss the dilapidated conveyance or its driver, whose left arm was half-raised in greeting. The little man stood in the driver's seat of a primitive open wagon, the kind one might use to haul crops in from the fields. It was drawn by two tired-looking horses who waited patiently for further direction.
"Stay here," she warned the children, before approaching the cart cautiously.
"Did Captain von Trapp send you?"
"Si, si," the little man nodded stoically. "Capitano."
She waited for him to add something, some words of welcome, perhaps, but he was silent.
"I'm Maria," she tried, extending her hand in his direction, only to snatch it back hastily when she noticed the man's empty right sleeve, neatly rolled up and pinned beneath his elbow.
She thought she saw the barest glimmer of a smile, before he jumped nimbly from the cart, gestured toward the children, and asked her a question she couldn't understand.
"I'm afraid I don't speak Italian," Maria apologized.
He nodded, fixing her with a steady dark-eyed gaze. "Leo," he grunted, using his good hand to thump once at his chest before turning toward the children.
The wiry little man barely came to Maria's shoulder, his close-cropped hair was more silver than brown and his face wore a permanent scowl, but his eyes were kind. With the children, he had a gentle manner, showing the older ones how to use the wheel for a step-stool that helped them clamber aboard. Maria followed behind, lifting the little girls and everyone's knapsacks into Friedrich and Liesl's waiting arms.
And then they were off, rattling slowly across the paved plaza. Huddled with seven children in the bottom of the rickety cart, Maria had her doubts about whether the horses were equal to their task, but she was impressed by the deft and confident strength with which Leo used his one arm to guide the team.
The sun was low in the sky by the time they jounced and jostled their way out of the city and onto a series of successively narrower and more deserted roads. The last of these wound gently upward through a forest of soaring pine trees that pressed in on them from every side.
"It's like a fairy tale," Brigitta remarked, "Why, there's probably an old witch lurking in a cottage just off that way!"
Maria felt Marta's hand tighten in hers. Perhaps she ought to get them singing, that would - but just then, the cart jerked to a sudden stop, angled toward the edge of the road, and Leo, without a word of explanation – not that they'd have been able to understand him – leapt out of the cart, sent a word of instruction toward the horses, and disappeared into the underbrush.
Liesl looked uneasily in Maria's direction.
"I'm sure it's fine," Maria said, pretending a confidence she didn't really feel. Why hadn't she pressed the Captain for more details about his arrangements? The truth, she thought grudgingly, is that the man was possessed of a commanding air that made any challenge to his authority simply unthinkable.
After a moment, Leo reappeared and waved them out of the cart. The country air was refreshingly cool, and it was a relief to stretch their legs after the long journey. Leo reached under the seat and produced three lanterns, two of which he distributed, with another faint smile, to Kurt and Friedrich, before gesturing for everyone to gather their knapsacks and follow him as he plunged into the woods.
They stumbled along a rough path, with Leo stopping to guide them over fallen branches and rocky outcroppings, and pausing every so often to make sure they were still together. For nearly an hour, they hiked in silence, until night had crept in and turned the forest all around them dark, until the birdsong had given way to the low buzz of insects. Maria felt fear rising off the children, knew it from the way Marta and Gretl clutched at her hands while Louisa and Brigitta clung to each other and the lantern-light trembled in the boys' hands when the nearby undergrowth rustled with activity.
"Is that a bear?" Kurt whispered.
Here deep in the forest, even a grown woman could feel afraid of what lay in wait beyond the lanterns' light. Maria was used to being out alone at night on the mountain, of course, but there, with the great sky open above you, it was easy to feel God's reassuring presence. She had just begun a silent prayer when they stopped at the edge of a large clearing, with the sound of rushing water not too far in the distance.
Barely discernible in the dim lantern light was a sturdy stone cottage, windows shuttered closed and with a low wooden porch running along its front. Taking one of the lanterns with him, Leo disappeared inside, and within moments, light glowed from behind the shutters. When Leo reappeared on the porch, they piled inside to explore their temporary quarters while he threw open the shutters and lit several more lanterns.
One big open room appeared to serve as kitchen, dining room and living area. There was a wood stove, an enormous kitchen sink, a long dining table and chairs, a big worn couch and some well-used armchairs. A single bedroom was nearly fully occupied by a massive poster bed, which would do nicely for Maria and the little girls, while the older children had already discovered a ladder that led upward to a sleeping loft, strewn with piles of clean, worn quilts. Maria had barely begun to worry about a return to the outhouses of her youth when she was relieved to find a tiny, clean bathroom as well.
While it couldn't have been more different from the villa, the kitchen seemed reasonably well equipped and stocked, the place was clean, and there was even a battered guitar tucked into a far corner. The Captain really had thought of everything. Including, Maria noted uneasily, a rifle mounted over the door.
When she turned to thank Leo, he had already vanished into the night.
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Even in the shadowy forest, morning came early. It helped, Maria thought, that for the children, the rough surroundings and simple food were novel entertainment. And of course, only Liesl knew that this was not a temporary holiday, but the beginning of a permanent and uncertain exile.
By eight, they had breakfasted and set out to explore. Off to one side of the cottage, a long path led to a small, amply stocked woodshed with a comfortable bench parked nearby. The promising sound of rushing water proved a bit of a disappointment; while there was a brook off to the other side of the cottage, it sat at the bottom of a rocky creek bed, several meters beneath a steep overhang, and would have to be approached cautiously.
Once familiar with their immediate surroundings, they followed the creek bed deeper into the forest. After Friedrich and Louisa scared the younger children half to death with their jokes about bears, she sent them on ahead to explore, and ten minutes later, their delighted cries led the rest of the family to a magical sight – a little waterfall, just five or six meters high, where water tumbled from a rocky outcropping to feed the creek below. Maria thought about the Captain: of course, she hoped he was safe, wherever he was, but she was also grateful that he wasn't there to observe as she joined her flock, laughing and screeching, under the icy spray.
It had been a thoroughly enjoyable day, she thought much later, as Liesl and Louisa tidied the remains of their simple supper and Friedrich fumbled at the guitar. The younger children, exhausted by an active day outdoors, were asleep before the sun had even set, and the soon older ones willingly retired to the sleeping loft to whisper among themselves until late.
The next day passed quite pleasantly as well. There were the sun-dappled woods to explore, and the novelty of assembling meals from the larder, with no Frau Schmidt to interfere or assist. Together, Maria and Liesl were able to fend off the others' casual inquiries about their father, and if the girl was nervous about his fate, she kept it to herself.
Sometime during that third night, it began to rain, a fierce downpour that battered the roof and rattled the closed shudders, drowned out only by the intermittent crash of thunder. Maria lay awake, smiling to herself at the memory of another thunderstorm months ago, when fear had driven the children into their new governess' room despite themselves. Now Marta and Gretl lay heavily asleep, curled around her like kittens.
Through the storm's clamor she thought she heard another noise, one that came from inside the cabin: one of the older children, no doubt, awake and possibly in need of her assistance. Careful not to disturb her bedmates, Maria crawled to the end of the bed, just in time to hear a loud crash, as though furniture was being flung about the main room, with a few metal pots thrown after for good measure. That couldn't possibly be one of the children, she thought uneasily, creeping toward the bedroom door. Panic slid through her veins, fed by thoughts of bears, and rifles hanging out of reach over doors.
When she peeked around the door in the main room, her heart began to pound when she saw the enormous figure, backlit by a flash of lightning against the open door. Oh, why hadn't she thought to bar the door against bears?
"Where the devil are the lanterns?" the bear growled.
"Captain von Trapp?" she squeaked.
"Were you expecting someone else?"
"I didn't expect you so soon, is all. You scared me half to death! I thought you were a bear."
"And I'm going to start acting like one very shortly, Fraulein. I'm soaked to the skin, thoroughly banged up, and filthy. I haven't eaten in two days, and I'm dangerously close to-"
"All right, hold on! Just be quiet, please, and don't wake the children. If they wake up and see you now, they'll get no sleep at all, and tomorrow will be impossible."
Maria scrambled to light a lantern, start the stove and put some water on to boil. She turned around to find the Captain tugging off his boots and discarding them, along with his rough jacket, into a growing puddle near the door. Water streamed from his dark hair which lay plastered against his unshaven face, and every visible inch of him – his face, his neck emerging from a rumpled, torn shirt, and his hands – was scratched, bruised or muddy.
"Are you hurt?" she took a step toward him, but he waved her off.
"It's nothing. I am famished, though, if you could please-"
"Of course," Maria said hastily, piling bread, cheese and fruit on the table in front of him and watching him devour every crumb and guzzle three cups of tea afterward. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had sipped wine from the finest crystal and flourished heavy silver cutlery at an elegantly-furnished table, three times a day, all summer.
"How did get here so quickly?" she asked curiously.
"I left later the same day you did. When I returned to the villa, I discovered that Zeller had sent someone to guard me. A little fellow, with a gun twice his size, stationed right outside the gates. I handed him a hundred-mark bill and slipped out the back way, around the lake, and then," he shrugged, "I just went over mountains, one after the other. Crossed a few rivers. Stowed away on the back of a truck or two, that's how I made such good time. And as it happens, I did have to chase off a few bears," he looked up from his supper and grinned.
"But the mountains between Italy and Austria are – suppose you'd gotten lost?"
"I could never be lost up there. Those are Austrian mountains. My mountains," he boasted, reminding Maria of just how arrogant he could be.
"And here I thought you only owned the sea," she muttered under her breath as she cleared away the remains of his supper. But she had to admit to being relieved that the Captain had safely escaped Austria.
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The children were wild with joy when they awoke the next morning to find their father seated at the big table. He was still dressed in travel clothes, soft trousers and high boots, and the bruises and scratches left from his journey were still in evidence. But he had shaved, and had managed a bath and a clean shirt. Over breakfast, he fended off their questions about his journey with extravagant lies about having ridden an elephant across the Alps.
After breakfast, though, the mood in the cottage grew somber. The Captain waved Maria away with an imperious gesture, tugged at Brigitta's braid and ruffled Kurt's hair before he settled himself into the big sofa, lifted the little girls onto his lap, and broke the news to them, gently: they were not returning to Austria, and would not see their home again for a very long time, if ever. He talked earnestly of his love for Austria and the ugly German threat. He answered their questions honestly – they would not remain in Italy but he could not tell them for sure what lay ahead – and with the strongest possible reassurances that they would remain together as a family and that he would let no harm befall them.
Maria felt a quiet satisfaction at the he trust and acceptance on the children's faces, so different from the sullen disappointment and fear they'd felt for their father at the beginning of the summer.
"Go on now," he shooed them away, "I need to talk to Fraulein Maria." When they had filed out of the cottage, he turned to her, the relief on his face plain to see. But it was more than relief – it was almost elation. Maria was incredulous. Had he no feelings at all?
"Why do you stare at me that way?" he asked.
"Aren't you – isn't it hard for you to leave your home? Your country? If I were you, I'd be heartbroken." Maria flinched in anticipation of a bitter reply, but his buoyant mood was apparently unshakable.
"You are young, aren't you?" he chuckled. "If you haven't noticed, Fraulein Maria, I haven't got much to lose. The villa holds more bad memories for me than good. First there was the children's mother," he said hastily, "and then what happened after-"
He looked out into the distance for a moment, and then his gaze swung back to her.
"I lost my country once already, and now there is no Austria left to mourn, not after the Anschluss. I've put aside enough money that we won't starve. The only thing I have left to do is protect my children, and I have removed them from danger. Having accomplished that, I am content. The rest of it," he waved his hand again, "was already lost."
He didn't mention Baroness Schrader, Maria thought distractedly, but her thoughts turned quickly to her own situation. When this time in Italy was over, she'd return to Austria, but the future she'd dreamed of, as one of the sisters at Nonnberg Abbey, was lost as well. And the Captain was partly to blame for it, although he'd never guess it and she'd never tell. Her mood, which had lifted after three days in the woods with the children, vanished behind a cloud of resentment. How had this happened to her? How had she been torn from Nonnberg and forced to reunite with this man whom she seemed to alternately admire and despise?
Maria reached into her pocket and produced the carved wooden box. "They opened it at the border, you know. I hope you don't mind, but I took the opportunity to put my - our - ehrm - the wedding ring in there. For safekeeping."
Putting her ring in that box had felt like an intrusion, as though she'd barged into a place she didn't belong, somehow, and she waited for the Captain to object, but all he said was "Thank you, Fraulein Maria."
"I hope you got enough to eat," she shrugged.
He was watching her with a puzzled expression.
"I don't mean for breakfast. I mean for getting them here safely."
Folding her arms across her chest, Maria said only, "Speaking of food, Captain, how long will we be here?"
"It should only be a day or two. In fact, I'm going off soon to see to our arrangements. I'll be back before supper," he promised.
And then, with a cheerful whistle and a clump of boots across the porch, he was gone.
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Lots of boring setup in this chapter, sorry. Things will start to happen in the next chapter! Also, just keep in mind for the whole rest of the story that I am definitely taking liberties both with geography and history. Thanks so much for leaving me reviews, even though you don't have to. Don't own, all for love.
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