Looking into his mirror, Georg von Trapp was very pleased that his naval uniform still fit him like a glove. It seemed that, because of his exercise routine, his body had not changed much in size over the years. He buttoned up the brass buttons of the ornate black coat carefully, then straightened his bow-tie and the Maria Theresa medal, which could just be seen between the lapels of his jacket.
Turning back to the bed, he picked up the decorations, for that was really all that they were. Georg smoothly slid his elegant sword into its sheath on his right side, before slipping on his elegant, pearly-white gloves. Finally, Georg picked up his Captain's hat and looked in the full-length mirror.
The last time Georg had dressed in full uniform had been the ceremony in which he had received the Maria Theresa medal. His hair hadn't had a speck of gray then, and there were less lines around his eyes. But Maria had told him quite a few times in her letters that the age difference between them never mattered to her.
His gaze turned to the picture on his bedside table, and he reached out his fingers and stroked the pictured face. "Less than an hour, and you will be by my side."
Saying that out loud made it even more true to him, and suddenly he felt very excited. Georg looked at the delicate pearl rosary laid beside the picture, and picked it up to put in his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he stood straight and strode out of his room.
Coming down the stairs, Georg felt the sounds of preparation everywhere, from caterers, musicians, decorators, hard at work like busy bees. Maria had wished for the reception to be at the house, so the children could go right up to bed at their usual time.
Speaking of the children, he saw all seven of them waiting for him by the front door, dressed in their very best. His young sons wore similar gray suits, like the proud sons of Austria they were. The five girls all wore white, with wreaths of ivy and edelweiss on their heads. Marta and Gretl held small baskets full of flower petals in their gloved hands, and their eyes widened at the sight of their father. They had never seen him in uniform before. The other children smiled, especially Liesl.
"You look very handsome, Father," she said. The other children all nodded in agreement. They looked so happy, and just as excited as he was.
Georg smiled, lighting up his whole face, a sight his children cherished. He stepped forward and kissed Liesl's cheek. "Thank you," he said. "And may I say, you all look beautiful." He took his time to kiss each daughter, and then turned to his sons. "That includes you, boys."
"Oh, Father," Kurt nearly whined of embarrassment, while the girls shared in their father's laughter.
"Now, are we all ready to go?" he said, excitement evident in his voice. The enthusiastic cheers from his children made him smile even wider, and the eight of them left the house.
Max, dressed in his best, was waiting by the two cars that would take them to the church. "Best man reporting for duty!" he said cheekily, giving a hearty salute that made the children giggle.
"All right, let's get going!" said Georg authoritatively, but with a genuine smile. And with that, the family departed to become whole again.
Maria Rainer put on her wedding dress with infinite care, as if the garment were made of something so delicate it may break. After fastening the last button, she marveled at how comfortable it felt on her body; never before had she worn anything so elegant, so beautiful. She hoped that Georg would like it, whatever she looked like. There were no mirrors at the Abbey, so she could only guess as to how she looked.
Maria looked around the room. Everything she owned was packed and had been sent away. The room held nothing for her now, was no longer a confinement.
The wedding bells started to ring joyously and freely, indicating that it was very nearly time for the ceremony. By now, the church would be full of people, and her family would be here. He would be here.
Taking a deep breath, Maria opened the door to her room and walked out. Waiting just outside were the two sisters who had always been kind to her: Margaretta and Sophia. They held in their hands an ivy wreath with a long, simple, delicate and beautiful veil. They smiled and their eyes widened at the sight of the young bride.
"Oh, Maria..." said Sister Sophia, who looked close to tears.
"You look so beautiful," said Sister Margaretta, who was beaming.
Maria smiled modestly. "Thank you, sisters." She stepped towards them and stood still as they placed the wreath and veil on her head. As they did, she lowered her head in silent prayer, both for courage and for gratitude. Raising her head, she raised her hands to touch the gossamer veil as the sisters pinned it to the wreath. The reality of the day seemed to sink in at the touch: she was getting married today.
Once the wreath and veil were securely on her head, Maria picked up the skirts of her dress to walk down the few stairs towards the Reverend Mother. Her breath caught in her throat at the expression in the older woman's eyes. It was the look she would imagine a proud parent gave their daughter on the happiest day of her life. With a lump in her throat, she knelt down for the final blessing. If there was one thing she would miss most about the Abbey, she was kneeling before her now.
Looking up, she saw the smile of the Reverend Mother, as well as the smaller ones of Sister Berthe and Sister Catherine, and rose. While Sister Sophia arranged her veil so she would not trip over it, Sister Margaretta opened the door to the stone courtyard.
How many times had she run into this courtyard, late as usual, with disheveled hair and a dirty dress? How many times had she stopped at that little pump to lap up some water to refresh her throat and clean her face? Those days were long past her now. Maria could hear and feel the nuns of Nonberg Abbey all walking behind her, following her to the church like a guard of honor. As the wedding bells became louder in her ears as they came to their conclusion, that knowledge gave her strength.
Strength enough to walk from one phase of her life into another with the carriage of a queen.