ON THE RUN, PART ONE

Her little trick – leaving the water running as though she were taking a bath – didn't fool Georg for a minute. He knew she was gone, because he felt her absence as acutely as though she'd been a limb severed from his body. He was, however, surprised that the knapsack half-full of currency had vanished along with her. From nearly-nun to thief in the space of a season, he thought wryly.

"Leo!" he bellowed, hurrying into a shirt and shoving his feet into his shoes. The hallway was empty, but a minute later, when he burst into the inn's courtyard, the little man was standing there, cursing and gesturing wildly with his one good arm at the empty space where his cart and horses had been parked.

It wasn't hard to figure out where she'd been headed. And she couldn't be that far ahead of them, not in that rig, Georg thought, yanking Leo into the back seat of a taxi and urging the driver to hurry. When they arrived at the town's modest railroad station, he left Leo to pay the driver and track down his horses and wagon, and raced into the building.

Fortunately, even at this busy hour, it was possible to survey the little station quickly. It was especially easy for to spot the object of his search, with her bright hair. But what was that she was holding? And what kind of disturbance had she found herself in the middle of? The last thing they needed right now was to be the subject of attention.

He shouldered his way through the murmuring crowd to discover his bride, tugging with great determination at one end of a long, slender sausage, but unable to wrest the other end from the grip of a stout sausage-cart vendor, who was shouting at her, in vivid Italian, calling her a thief and worse.

"What seems to be the problem?" Georg asked, expecting and earning immediate control of the situation. He glanced at Maria, who scowled at him and clutched her end of the sausage to her chest.

"This lady ordered a sausage, but then she tried to trick me with fake money!" the vendor said indignantly. Turning to the crowd, he asked, "Will somebody please call the police?"

"That won't be necessary," Georg soothed him. "She's my wife, you see-"

"Man ought to be able to control his wife," said a bystander.

"She looks like trouble," a woman commented.

"Can you blame her? Why, look at the poor girl!" another said sympathetically. "She's barely half his age, I'd wager."

After sizing up the situation, lamenting his inability to threaten the crowd with a court-martial, and thanking heaven that Maria would not be able to understand what he was about to say, Georg turned back toward the vendor.

"She's just a foolish girl, you can see that. I'll make sure you are fairly compensated for your sausage. Show me the money she gave you."

The round little man clung to his end of the sausage with one hand, but with the other, he produced a red-and-white bank note featuring His Majesty George V.

Georg – the Captain, not the King – could not resist having a bit of fun with her, even though she was unknowingly putting them both at risk.

"You know," he threw over his shoulder at her, "you could have bought enough sausages to feed His Majesty's Navy with that bank note. If you were in England. But your money – although let's not lose sight of the fact that technically, it's my money, now, isn't it? – your money is no good in Italy." He dug into his pocket and flipped a coin at the merchant, who let go of his end of the sausage so quickly that Maria stumbled backward.

"Go on now," Georg told the crowd which, of course, immediately and obediently dispersed, leaving him alone with his disobedient governess, wife and chief tormentor.

One thing was clear: whatever she was, Maria was furious with him. In the time he'd taken to answer the door and speak with Leo, something had happened, something that had so upset or frightened her that she had fled the hotel. Through all of their ups and downs, he'd never seen her glower quite so hatefully at him. Well, he was more than a little perturbed himself.

"Running away again? What a charming idea," he began. "Has it ever occurred to you to face your problems instead of running away from them? What is it you can't face this time, Maria?"

"Leave me alone!"

Despite the trouble she was making for him at this very minute, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her, the way she looked around for help while passers-by, rushing to make the train to Milan, pushed past the arguing couple.

He took the knapsack in one hand and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around her wrist.

"Come on, Maria. I'm taking you back to the hotel. We'll talk about it there. There's not much time-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she fumed, jerking her hand away from him. "And if you touch me again, I'll call the police."

"Really." With great difficulty, he kept control of his temper. "That ought to be interesting. You go ahead and explain it to them, why don't you? If you can find someone to translate for you, you'll learn that the Italians are no more progressive in their attitudes toward women than the Austrians, and they're certainly less efficient. Once I tell them that you stole a small fortune from me, I imagine it might be a year or more before they'll be able to organize a trial."

"I'm your wife," she hissed.

"Exactly. As far as they're concerned, you're mine to do with as I like. And might I remind you-" he hesitated, looking around. The station was quickly emptying, and the few remaining travelers probably didn't speak German, "-might I remind you that as a result of my irresponsible behavior this morning, you quite possibly could be carrying my child?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He leaned close to her, wrapping his hand around her nape so she couldn't pull away, and whispered in her ear.

"I finished inside you."

He'd expected blushes, or even tears, but when he stepped away, he saw that she'd gone white beneath her freckles. He tried not to take it personally, the horror written on her face. So she hadn't understood it, not all of it, anyway.

"When did you last bleed?"

"What?"

Her face went from white to red.

"Never mind that. The point is that you are stuck with me," he said as calmly as he could, "at least for a while, and there are certain further developments you are unaware of. Now. Let's find a taxi, shall we?"

"I'll leave when I'm ready to," she said sullenly.

"I'll pick you up and carry you out of here if I have to," he threatened, conscious of the precious time he didn't have to argue with her, and hovering near the end of his patience. Fortunately, the threat did its job, and she shuffled reluctantly beside him as they made their way out of the station and into a taxi. It was impossible to miss her tentative gait, and the way she winced every time the taxi hit a bump. Her discomfort was his doing, he knew, and his anger momentarily softened, replaced by a twinge of guilt for at the obvious consequences of their night together.

Once they were safely back in his rooms, though, their battle of wills continued.

"Sit down, Maria."

"I believe I'll stand, Captain."

"Well, I believe you'll sit, Fraulein, with or without my help."

It immediately occurred to him that she might be more comfortable standing, but by then it was too late to rescind his order. She sat, but barely, perching on the edge of a settee as though poised for escape. Georg leaned back against the door to the hallway, just in case she tried to flee before he was finished saying his piece, and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Fraulein?"

"I hate you!"

"You have an odd way of showing it," he said smugly, tilting his head toward the bedroom, where the scent of their lovemaking still lingered.

"That? That meant nothing to me. I needed my virginity removed to prepare myself for Vienna. I wanted to – to practice. And I accomplished my purpose," she said, lifting her chin at him in that way that he had learned hid her fear. She might have been trying to convey an air of superiority, but her odd metaphors, as though she were either a musician or a Christmas goose, gave her away.

"Let's start at the very beginning, shall we? I leave you in my bed, all warm and pink and sated and positively glowing with happiness, and not five minutes later, you run away. Why did you?"

"Because I hate you!" she raged. "I despise you. You're arrogant."

"True, but no more so than yesterday, or any other day since we met."

"And high-handed."

"I seem to recall you rather liked my high-handedness," he said slyly, but if he'd expected a blush, he was disappointed.

"And you are cruel."

"Cruel?" Georg put a hand to his heart. "Now that wounds me. Because you are one of the few people who has peeled away the tough skin and found my tender heart, and for you to-"

"You are cruel. You wanted me to go away, and I gave you what you wanted. I left. But no. You have to drag me back here purely for the pleasure of sending me away yourself? It's not enough for you to chase me back to Austria without being able to savor my suffering first-hand?"

"What the hell? What do you mean, send you away?"

"I saw your going away gifts. I don't want your diamonds. Or dresses. Or any red – red – whatevers. Can't you just let me go?"

She was pleading now, more than raging. Georg took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the door.

"If you would stop running away from your problems, Maria, I'd have had a chance to explain."

He seated himself beside her and reached for her hand, but she turned away from him.

"Maria. I've been dishonest, to both of us, and utterly unfair to you. There's a great deal I ought to have told you. But to start, I had no intention of sending you away. I wanted to take you away."

"What does that mean?"

"I thought I would take you to Paris. It's too late to give you a proper wedding, but I thought you might enjoy a real honeymoon. It would be a chance for -"

"A chance for me to keep you entertained while you wait for permission to enter England? A chance for me to spend a few days or a week or a month in your bed before you send me away for good? Why would I want that?"

He drew another deep breath.

"It's nothing like that. The truth is, that there was never any problem with my entering England, none at all. I invented that bit yesterday, on the spot. I asked John to take the children on ahead, so that you and I could have some time alone. So that I could talk to you, so I could try and make you see-"

"Oh, I see things very clearly now," she said bitterly.

"Well, I've seen nothing clearly, not for months, Maria. I spent the entire summer utterly bemused. After the party, when you ran back to Nonnberg? Nothing was the same when you were away, and it will be all wrong if you leave me again. And since last night – no, since the cave – no, since the waterfall – maybe even since that damned party, since - I don't know when it started, but when I close my eyes, all I see is you, and damn it, I can't bear it, not knowing what will become of you."

Now her eyes, ice-blue and mistrustful, met his.

"That's nonsense."

"I pour my heart out and that's all you have to say?"

"If that's what you wanted," she said suspiciously, "then why didn't you just say so last night? 'Just this once,' you said."

"I believe that was you, not me."

"Nothing about honeymoons," she went on, ignoring him, "or your elusive feelings for me or -"

"I was screwing up my courage to talk to you about it the whole time, over dinner. But then I panicked. All your talk of Vienna! I started to second guess myself, and I fell back on the one thing you've been asking for. Which was me in your bed, not the other way around. It seems to be the only thing anyone wants from me," he said broodingly. "I thought it would soften you up, you know, and then I could introduce the idea. Of taking you to Paris."

Maria's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I still don't understand. Honeymoons are for people who want to be married. You want us to be married after all? Because you certainly haven't acted that way, starting with the wedding. "

"I told you. That day was very difficult for me. It was – it was like putting her in the ground all over again."

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth: an unthinkably atrocious tactical error, the consequences of which were apparent when Maria jerked to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"Don't play the heartbroken widower with me, Captain. You had already decided to remarry, remember? Baroness Schrader?"

"That was different. Elsa, she was suitable, but she was never going to replace Agathe in my heart. I didn't love her."

For a moment, they stared at each other, both too stunned to speak.

"Are you saying you love me?" she asked cautiously.

"Well. I mean, Elsa said I did. That was another reason she wouldn't marry me, besides Bremerhaven."

"I don't care what she thought. I want to know what you think. Do you think you love me?"

The disbelief was written all over her lovely face, along with hope, and yearning, and yes, love. He wanted to be the reason she would look that way forever, but he owed her honesty too. He owed her the truth.

"Answer me! Are you saying you love me?" she repeated.

He hesitated for a moment, a moment as short as a breath, or a blink of an eye, or the beat of a heart, but it was a moment long and wide enough that he could see Maria fall into it and disappear. Even knowing that moment of hesitation might have lost her to him, Georg was not brave enough to go after her, only to stand at the edge of the abyss and call her back.

"Maria, wait! Wait! I-I don't know. I don't know! Perhaps I might have loved you all along, and it was so different with you that I didn't recognize it. I mean, I must love you, I suppose you could say that, but I'm afraid."

Maria slumped back onto the settee, trying to cling to the fragile thread of hope in this confounding conversation, but it kept slipping from her grasp. Weeks of being buffeted by emotions and sensations she could never have imagined were catching up with her.

"Afraid?" she asked, although she was afraid of the answer. Wasn't the proper answer to "do you love me?" supposed to be 'yes,' preferably, or failing that, at least a crisp and decisive 'no?'

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to love you the way you deserve. God knows, I don't deserve you, not after how I've behaved. I don't want to botch it and cause you any more pain. But I've tried for months to resist it, and I'm out of excuses not to try. And I'm not ready to let you go. Please don't give up on me, Maria. Come to Paris."

Maria didn't think her heart or mind could take much more from this complicated man. He had warned her from the start, not that she'd needed any warning about how broken he was.

"Can I think about it?" she asked. He had always given her that, hadn't he? Time to think, to consider, to understand.

"No." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but there's no time for that."

"What?"

"The Germans will be here for me in a matter of hours. That's why Leo was here, to warn me. The Italians, for all their inefficiency, managed to get word to Zeller that the children are on their way to England, and that you have disappeared. Naturally, they've concluded I'm in the vicinity. Need I point out that it was not the wisest course of action for me to show myself in the station?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know-"

"I had it all worked out," he continued, "I thought we'd have breakfast and then board the Paris train, dressed like civilized people for a change. At this point, I'm afraid that instead, as soon as night falls, I'll be creeping back into the forest, and trying to make my way to France."

He took her hand in his, pressed his lips to her palm.

"I have no right to ask it of you, Maria, and I can't make any promises about something I can't understand myself. But I am asking you to come with me. To France, if we're lucky, and then to Paris."

Maria's head was swimming.

"Hold on. Let me understand this." She yanked her hand away, clenched it into a fist that lay in her lap. "You want me to turn my back on Austria and crawl back into the woods with you while you ponder whether you can manage to love me?" Her voice cracked with anguish. "This has got to stop, this running hot and cold. 'Come to me, Maria. No, no, get away from me. Help me, Maria. Leave me alone, Maria. I want you, Maria. You mean nothing to me, Maria.'"

"Maria, you've got to listen to me." He was on his feet again, running his hands through his hair, a note of panic in his voice like she'd never heard before. "What I feel for you – there hasn't been anything like it, not since-"

He stalked over to where the carved wooden box, surrounded by its spilled contents, still lay on the floor, where it had fallen after her tantrum.

"Do you see this ring?" He picked up the largest ring, the one he'd been wearing when they met, and brandished it at her. "I wore this ring for twenty years. Sixteen years married, and four years widowed. And I never took it off, not even when I was in bed with – God, I don't know, a couple of dozen women at least, maybe more. But I took it off when I came to meet you in Italy, and do you know why?"

"Y-you said it was out of respect for me, for agreeing to marry you and help rescue the children."

"I did it for you, all right. But not the way you think. I did it because I knew. I knew that you and I wouldn't make it out of Italy without – that I was about to leave her behind, not only her body rotting in that cemetery, but my devotion to her, her trust in me, because I knew it was going to be different with you."

"So you did it for her?" Maria said in a small voice that was all she could manage from inside her deep well of horror and humiliation.

"If you want to look at it that way, but that was not my point. My point is that, perhaps, I was already starting to feel something for you."

Giving him as wide a berth as possible, Maria rose and went to retrieve her own wedding ring, tarnished past recognition, pinching it between her fingers like the distasteful object it was. She waved it under his nose.

"Fake. Rubbish. Sham."

"Oh." He tugged at his ear. "I'm – ehrm – I'm sorry about that. I was in a hurry, and I sent the office boy out to – I was not myself that day. Please try to understand."

"I understand, all right. I understand that I never should have agreed to marry you, even for the children's sake. It was a lie from the start, as false as that ring, and meanwhile you have taken everything from me. You took my innocence-"

"Now hold on," his face flushed, "surely you know how hard I tried to resist you. I was only trying to make you happy."

"And you took my vocation."

"Now that," he clenched his fists by his side, "that is not fair. We both know that was not the life you were born to live. Anyone can look at you and know you were born to be a wife and mother. You are so afraid of losing another family, that you borrowed mine, rather than marry some nice young man and start one of your own. Vienna," he spat. "The idea of you carousing about Vienna."

She covered her hurt feelings with an elaborate shrug.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe my time with your family opened my eyes to what I want. Unfortunately, it also opened my eyes to the fact that you will probably never be able to give it to me."

"So you're running away again? Just like you always do?"

"I'm sorry, Captain. Georg. I can't risk it."

"Risk?" he asked, but she didn't bother to answer.

"God be with you, Georg," she said quietly. She was halfway out the door when he called to her.

"Maria?"

She paused, one hand on the doorknob.

"Just one more question before you go, and this time, I want a truthful answer from you. The night of the party – why did you run away to the Abbey?"

There was no reason to hide it from him now, it was out in plain sight if he cared to look for it.

"It was Baroness Schrader. She said that I was in love with you, too."

"And the idea was so repulsive that you fled back to the convent?"

"No," she managed a tired smile. "No, it was something else she said. That nothing's more irresistible to a man than a woman who's in love with him. She said you'd get over it soon enough. And I can't-"

He took a step toward her.

"Maria, please-"

"No!" Maria clung to the doorknob like a life raft at sea. "No. No. Because I won't be able to bear it, Georg. Captain. To find out that she was right."

He made no further move to stop her. That was the end of it, then. Maria slipped from the room, closing the door behind her.

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Thanks for reading my story. Like I said recently, there keep being three more chapters; this chapter just got too long, so the rest of it will be published in a day or two, and then two chapters after that (I think). This long holiday weekend in the U.S. has let me do lots of writing, but after that, alas, writing time will be hard to come by in the next few weeks! Anyway, I am very grateful for the reviews I get, they tell me where I've missed the mark, but I also remind you not to feel guilty about taking a review holiday. Don't own, all for love.