The next night, Maria excused herself right after dinner to go to her room, saying she was very tired. The children didn't suspect anything, but Georg had noticed how absent-minded she'd been since saying good-bye to her brother. After putting the children to bed, Georg headed to his study, deciding not to disturb Maria if she wanted to be by herself.
As he poured himself a glass of water, Georg thought over what could be bothering Maria, if anything. When she had come back to the car where he and Max had been waiting for her, she'd held a large rectangular package in her arms, close to her heart. But it was the expression on her face that worried him. He'd seen that expression on her face briefly once before, the day of the big picnic. As his children had tackled him, Georg had caught a sight of her face just before she'd turned away. That almost pained expression touched his heart, and he wanted greatly to heal whatever pain she had. For there was certainly something in her past that caused her pain – he'd noticed it outside of the picnic and last night, as well. During their evening walks together, whenever they had discussed Maria's past, she'd always manage to shift the topic somewhere else. The most he knew about her past – apart from Dominik, whom she had no qualms talking about – was that her parents had died when she was eight, and was sent to live with her maternal uncle until leaving for the Abbey.
As the sound of steady summer night rain began to pound on the window of his study, Georg sighed. Well, even if she'd met him for an evening walk they couldn't do it anyway.
Georg heard a soft knock at the door. Not knowing who to expect, he walked over to the door and opened it. The sight of Maria standing there, looking nervous and small holding that rectangular package again, surprised but delighted him. "Maria! I thought you had retired for the evening."
"I can't sleep – couldn't sleep," replied Maria nervously. "Am I bothering you?"
To put her at ease, Georg reached out and took the hand not holding the package. "You never bother me, Maria. Your presence is always a pleasure."
Maria smiled and sighed with relief, looking down at their joined hands. "I wonder . . . if you could help me with something."
"Anything," he replied. "Would you like to come in?"
Maria nodded, and Georg led her inside, closing the door behind them. She let go of his hand so she could look around the room for the first time as he lit a fire in the fireplace to warm up the room.
"Oh, it's beautiful in here!" exclaimed Maria, examining the contents of his bookshelves and walls. "You certainly know how to pick out beautiful things."
Georg turned his gaze towards her as he stoked the fire. "Yes, one could say that," he said as he looked at her, absorbed as she was in exploring.
Maria continued to explore, and her gaze fell on a beautiful model of a large sailboat. "At last, some proof that you're a sea captain!" she joked.
Georg laughed and put the fire poker back in its place. "What did you expect a sea captain to be like?"
Maria rubbed her neck, looked at him and shrugged. "I only ever read about sea captains in story books, so I imagined I would meet a big man with a red beard and a pipe or cigar in his mouth, with the house filled with memories of his conquests."
Both burst into laughter, and it was a few moments before either could stop. "I must say, I love your imagination," said Georg, and then thought, Among everything else.
The two settled down on the couch in front of the fireplace, allowing the firelight and the warmth to wash over them. Like whenever they sat on a bench outside, their bodies didn't touch – but just barely.
Georg turned to her and looked at her gently. "So, Maria, what did you need my help with?"
Maria looked down at the package she was still holding, her fingers trembling slightly along with her voice. "Dominik gave this to me for my birthday . . . he told me what it is but I . . . haven't opened it because I can't . . . believe it's what it is and I'm so afraid it's not. I just don't want to be alone when I open it."
"I'm right here," said Georg, his tone rich.
Maria carefully unwrapped the brown paper. When it had fallen away, there in her lap was a wooden box. It was beautifully and intricately carved of rich wood, painted with the colors of spring flowers. "Oh . . ." said Maria, her trembling fingers stroking the lid of the box. "It is, I can't believe it." She looked at Georg with expression of a person who'd found a long-lost treasure, and she had. "My mother's treasure box, where she kept special things in."
"It's beautifully crafted," said Georg truthfully.
"My father made it for my mother just after they were married," said Maria, caressing the lid. "He was a carpenter."
"A very good one," said Georg, still looking at the box. Maria smiled before tentatively folding her fingers around the lid, as if to open it. "How did your brother end up with it and not you?"
Maria sighed. "After my parents died and I moved in with . . . my uncle, I was supposed to get the few treasures they left behind. But my uncle, the moment I moved in, took them and hid them from me, saying he would need to sell them for money to support me." A hard look came to Maria's eyes.
"He had no right to do that," said Georg firmly. "No matter if you were only a child or how poor he was: they were yours and only yours to do what you will."
She gave him an appreciative smile. "I don't know why he kept it . . . I suppose he couldn't completely let go of his sister, or he felt some tiny strand of affection for me after all. Either way, I have it back now. Dominik told me he'd recently passed and left it to Stefan, our music teacher, to give to me if I ever came back. I just . . . didn't want to open it alone, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming this."
"I'm honored you chose me, Maria," said Georg sincerely.
Taking a deep breath, Maria lifted the lid of the box with care, setting it down beside her. Both leaned forward to look inside the box. It was, indeed, full of treasures, but not the conventional kind. Instead of gold and jewels, the box was filled with other little treasures that Maria lifted out with the gentlest care.
One was a pair of little baby shoes. She laughed in disbelief. "Were these really mine, and were my feet really that small?"
Georg chuckled. "Take it from someone who knows: hard as it is to believe, yes, feet are at one point that small."
Maria giggled. There were quite a few mementos of Maria's infant days, including a blond baby curl, pressed in a folded piece of paper. As Georg watched Maria finger that baby curl, he was filled with endearment. She must have been the most adorable baby.
Sure enough, he was proved right as they dug deeper into the box, finding some photographs. One showed a baby girl in a cute white dress, with blond baby girls, big bright eyes and an even bigger smile. Both chuckled, and Maria's cheeks went pink.
The next picture she found made her freeze, and the smile faded. "Oh, my . . ." With trembling fingers she held the photograph of her and her parents. She couldn't have been more than Gretl's age at the time, with long blond hair that had lost it's baby curl but was thick and fair. She was in the arms of her father, a tall and lanky man with strong hands, dark wavy hair, and a gentle smile and expression on his face. Standing close to them, stroking Maria's hair, was a young woman who had an uncanny resemblance to her daughter: same eyes, same face, same hair-color, and same smile.
Georg looked from the picture to Maria, who's lip was trembling as she ran her fingers over the face of her mother. "I never realized how much . . . how much . . ."
"You look just like her," said Georg softly, looking at her with more love than he'd felt before. She probably had not seen their faces again after they had died.
Maria turned that face towards his, and a tear slid down her cheek. Before he could stop himself, Georg reached out to wipe the tear away. Not meaning to, she recoiled when she saw the hand approaching her face. He immediately let his hand fall. "Forgive me."
"No, no, it's not you, it's me," said Maria, ashamed of herself. What a real pile of damaged goods she was! "I'm just not used to . . . anyone touching my face without hurting it, since my parents died."
Georg looked shocked. "Who on Earth would do such a thing to you?"
Maria looked down in shame as she put the photograph down by the box on the coffee table. "My uncle," she whispered. "He drank a lot and sometimes that made him . . . violent." She began to shake a little, and he saw another tear drop to her hands.
Georg now felt disgusted and very angry. How could someone do something like that to her, even as a child? The thought made him want to hunt down this man and tear him apart. But he realized that his energy and thoughts were not meant to be on a dead man – they were meant for Maria, and she was hurting. He took both of her hands in his and said, "Oh, Maria . . . no one deserves that, least of all you."
Maria looked back up at him; new tears had streaked her face. "It's all right. I hardly think about it anymore. Anytime it got very bad, I would run to the barn and Dominik would always be there. It's in the past, and there's no use being angry at memories, I suppose." She gently lifted his hand up a bit. "I won't back away this time, I promise."
Looking in her eyes to be sure, Georg slowly lifted his hand to her face again, and brushed away her tears, using the most infinite care and gentleness. Maria was surprised: she'd expected his hand to be rough, but he was so gentle and the skin was so warm. Looking into his eyes, she realized she was completely safe from harm. On instinct, Maria allowed herself to relax, closing her eyes and leaning into his gentle touch.
The grandfather clock striking the hour broke the spell, and both moved back a little as a reflex to the sound. While Georg suppressed the impulse to punch in the interrupter, Maria turned her attention back to her mother's treasure box. There was still something inside, what looked like old notes and dried flowers. Leaning forward, Maria pulled out one of the folded papers. Opening it, her eyes widened.
"This looks like . . . a love note," she murmured, reading through the message. "My father must have written this to my mother, I can recognize his handwriting anywhere . . ." But she still looked confused.
"What is it?" asked Georg, noticing the look.
"I didn't know they had names for each other . . . I wonder why these, though . . ." She showed him the letter. Georg looked at the names she referred to.
"Hero and Leander . . ." He murmured, those names familiar. He had definitely read them somewhere. After a few moments of thought, he said, "One moment," and got up from the couch. Maria instantly missed the warmth that came with his closeness – she realized with a blush – but stayed patient and watched as he began to browse his bookshelves. As he did, he spoke to her, "Hero and Leander are names from a Greek myth. It told the story of two young people who lived in cities separated by a sea called the Hellespont. Leander, a brave young man, fell in love with the fair Hero. But apart from the distance and the sea barrier, there was something else that kept them apart: Hero was a priestess to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, and had taken a vow of chastity. But she fell in love with him, as well, so their meetings were in secret."
Maria listened with fascination, and a strange sense of déjà vu as well when hearing of Hero and what she did with her life. Clearing her throat to shake off the feeling, she asked, "How did they meet?"
As Georg answered, he pulled down the book he was looking for, took his seat beside her and began searching the pages for his goal. "Leander, being a brave and love-struck fool, swan across the sea every single night to see her. Hero lived in the lighthouse on the shoreline, and she lit the lamp in order that he would not get lost."
"Oh, how romantic!" said Maria. "And brave but foolish!"
Georg shrugged and said casually without stopping in his task, in order not to scare her. "Love makes a person do crazy things. Take it from someone who knows."
Maria giggled. "Yes, I suppose I should. But I must say, I can't imagine you ever being foolish."
Georg chuckled and found the marked page, showing it to her. "Christopher Marlowe, a gifted poet who knew Shakespeare and died too young, made the story well-known by his poem of the lovers."
"Now it makes more sense," said Maria. "My father loved literature."
"Well, you are more than welcome to borrow this to read," said Georg, offering her the book, but she pushed it back towards him, looking shy again.
"I wonder . . . would you read it to me sometime?" she asked.
Georg was surprised by her request, but not in a bad way. "If you really want me to, and only if you help me."
"Then yes," Maria said. "But not tonight, it's getting late."
Georg nodded and, after marking the page, set the book on the coffee table besides the treasure box. Looking back at Maria, he found her looking at him with a fond look.
"You have a wonderful voice, you know," said Maria.
"When I'm not barking orders, you mean," he said, meaning it as a joke but not without a flicker of pain crossing his eyes.
Maria saw it, and longed to put him at his ease. "May I tell you something, Georg?"
"Of course, Maria."
"What I overheard you say in this room . . . I've forgiven you. Since you said good-bye to me, in my heart I completely forgave you."
Georg's heart seemed to overflow. This was all he'd been hoping for from her, even though he never allowed himself to fully, thinking he didn't deserve it. Whether he did or not, Georg realized he shouldn't have thought she wouldn't, eventually, forgive him. Her nature was so loving and not hostile at all. Oh, how he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her with all of his soul! But Georg was afraid, scared of frightening her. She had, on instinct, recoiled when he'd tried to touch her face, even if it wasn't his fault. He would not scare her or do anything to make her feel powerless. So, he settled for gazing back into her eyes and taking her hand in his again. "Thank you, Maria."
Maria nodded then shivered involuntarily. Even with the nearby fire, her summer dress was not serving her well this cool, rainy night.
"Are you cold?" asked Georg.
Maria nodded, and moved closer towards him. Why was he always radiating warmth?
Feeling her come closer, Georg took that as a sign it was all right to do at least one thing he wanted. Gently, doing his best not to surprise or scare her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, keeping his eyes on her face for any sign she didn't want him to. But to his delight, she did. In fact, once she felt his arm settle around her shoulders, she gave a contented sigh and rested her head on his shoulder, leaning into him. He smiled, and held her to him with that arm, taking her hand with his other.
Maria held his hand with both of her own, gazing at it and gently caressing it. Wrapped in this security and warmth, she felt sleep and exhaustion rapidly coming upon her. When she felt him kiss her head gently, a grin flitted over her face. Georg, in turn, pressed his cheek to her hair, reveling in the sensation of being so close and at ease with the woman he loved. No matter he couldn't do more with her that he so wanted to; tonight, this was enough, more than enough.
Both sat on the couch close to each other, watching the fire dancing in a content silence, exhaustion and sleep coming to take its prey.
After the fire had died, Maria woke up from her doze. A little disoriented at first, having not planned to fall asleep, she looked around the now dark room. It was much quieter now without the crackling fire or the rain falling; the clouds must have cleared. As her awareness came back, she realized that she was still on the couch, and Georg's now limp arm was still around her. The sound of his steady breathing confirmed that he, too, had drifted to sleep.
What time is it? she thought as she rubbed her face with her hand. Hoping that Georg wouldn't get angry, gently she shook his hand. "Georg, wake up," she said softly.
He groaned and woke up, rubbing his own face. Looking confused, he asked, "What happened?"
"I think we both fell asleep," said Maria apologetically, pulling back to look at him, his arm falling from around her, making her feel colder than ever.
"Well, this shouldn't surprise me," said Georg, rubbing his hands together absently, his elbows resting on his knees. "I was very comfortable."
Maria smiled and blushed, looking down. "Well, we should both go to bed now. Those seven children always have a lot of energy in the morning." She reached out and took her mother's treasure box. Before getting up from the couch, she turned to him with her heart in her eyes. "Thank you for everything tonight, Georg."
Georg smiled gently as they both got up. "No, thank you, Maria."
Maria wished she didn't have to part from him suddenly, but knew she would see him in the morning. "Well . . . good-night, then."
Then, for the first time, Georg leaned forward and gently kissed her cheek. "Sleep well, Maria," he whispered in her ear.
Blushing and smiling again, Maria nodded and left the study to go back to her room, thinking of what it would be like to sleep in his arms all night long . . . and to feel his lips on other parts of her body.
Maria groaned. With those thoughts in her head, how on Earth was she supposed to sleep alone now?