A Time to Awaken
"How much trouble is she in?"
Max Dettweiler asked the question to Elsa, half joking and half serious, leaning against the wall of the drawing room. Baroness Elsa Schraeder stood at the window that looked out to the lake and the terrace.
"More than she can guess, that's for sure," said Elsa, rather amused. She chuckled when she saw the young governess give Georg an order that must have been pretty effective, because she saw Georg shut his lips and looking a bit shocked. "I think the kitten's bit the tiger; she's shut him up for a moment."
Max chuckled right back. "Oh, really? Well, no one since his cadet days has ever had the courage to do that, it'll be a good lesson for him."
"Now the battle ground is evened out," murmured Elsa, looking at the battle happening outside. "Georg is trying to shut her up but she's relentless." She turned to look at Max. "This certainly explains why, whenever he received an update from his home, his teeth would grit and he got an almost murderous look in his eyes. What I don't understand is, if he was so dissatisfied with this governess, why did he not just fire her on the first day? That's what happened with the last governess, isn't it?"
Max shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but I think he told me this makes the…twelfth governess he's hired for his children. He must really be getting desperate for that order he loves if he hired a postulant."
"A postulant?" asked Elsa incredulously, turning to look out the window again. "I never would have guessed, the way she carried herself in the boat with those children and her lack of one of those…oh, what do you call those veils…Well that probably explains why her hair is so short…"
"Oh, really?" asked Max casually, crossing his arms, still leaning against the wall. "I haven't seen her yet, so I wouldn't know…" His voice drifted as he watched Elsa's expression freeze in what he was sure was an expression of shock. A hand went to clasp over her heart as her jaw dropped. A moment later, Elsa turned rapidly from the window, anger mixing with her shock.
Max, who rarely saw her in such a state, said seriously, "Elsa, what is it?"
But before she could answer, the sound of many tiny footsteps caused them both to turn their gazes to the door. There stood the seven children of their host, their hair still wet from their tumble in the lake, but dressed neatly in their uniforms. The eldest, Liesl, holding a guitar, addressed them. "Excuse us, Baroness Schraeder. We – my brothers and sisters – we wanted to welcome you to our home with a song."
If the Baroness had not been raised to always go with the flow when it came to other people, to keep her own personal feelings completely masked beautifully on many occasions, the children would no doubt have been frightened by the anger and shock she was feeling. But, being the perfect upper-class lady she was, Elsa's face immediately changed to an amiable and touched expression, her voice a chilly gentle as she said, "Oh, how sweet, my dears! Let's hear this, Max!" She sat herself gracefully on the couch, and only Max could see her true feelings at the moment by how white the knuckles of her folded hands were.
He focused on the children as well, smiling and saying, "Well, well, well, since when did you all learn how to sing?"
"Fraulein Maria taught us," said Gretl helpfully, taking her place in the first row.
"Ah, Fraulein Maria…" said Max, nodding. This Fraulein seemed to be at the center of everything now; but he would have to learn more later. It seemed the children had a performance to give.
If the Fraulein hadn't touched him, he would have been all right.
Georg Von Trapp, in his navy days, had always prided himself on his ability to remain calm and keep his brilliantly logical mind in the most high-pressured and dangerous situations. It had been the main reason he had risen the ranks quicker than most, and had won him the honors and recognitions he'd received.
So much for all of that now. Georg was right when he concluded that if she had not touched him, he would not have kissed her. But he was wrong when he concluded that he had gone mad. It was all very simple, really, a physics fact: the longer one keeps pressure on something, the bigger the explosion would be. The simple fact was that Georg had kept his grief, emotions and heart locked away for too long – they had to come out sometime, and the only way was by force.
In Georg's mind, the Fraulein represented all of the mistakes he had made regarding these locked away things, while at the same time the being that had raised feelings he never thought he could feel so strongly again. In her were the means of destroying all of the hard work he'd done to himself over the past three years.
The Fraulein's touch was the last stone that set the avalanche free – not even the great Captain Georg Von Trapp could freeze his heart forever.
In his dreams, he had never touched the Fraulein, just watched. He had been afraid that if he touched her, she would disappear or shrink away from him. Now he wanted her to disappear so he did the exact opposite of his dreams: he'd grabbed her by the upper arms, pulled her flush against his body, and kissed her. Hard. It wasn't gentle or caring; it was a command. A command to stop tormenting him.
When he'd finally pulled his mouth off of hers, all he could see of her through his tormented haze was the bright blue of her eyes. In a ragged whisper he spoke to her, almost spitting his words:
"Who do you think you are? Who are you to come into my life and turn it every wrong way? To tell me how I should live my life, raise my children, haunt my dreams to the point of insanity? Who are you to teach me a lesson when it's you who need to be taught?"
He saw her lips open, as if to reply, and he couldn't resist. He slammed his mouth on hers again. But, unlike the first time, she was no longer not reacting. Now she was reacting, but not in the way his primal instincts wanted her to. She squirmed, pressing her hands against his chest, trying to push away. He didn't want that, he didn't want rejection, that was what he had feared in his dreams, so he deepened the kiss.
He immediately knew it was not the right thing to do, for she screamed against his mouth through her sealed lips, pushing harder than ever against him. She gave a big push at the same time he finally realized exactly what he was doing. He let her go as if she were burning.
The force of her push at the same time he let her go caused the young woman to stumble back and fall. She landed on the stone walk, wet from the drippings of her and the children. Though she fell on her behind, her hands were able to cushion the fall and stop any serious injury.
But worse injuries were already done.
The sight of her on the ground made him wide awake now. After over three years, Georg Von Trapp had finally woken up. This was not some demon sent to torment him, a temptress come to haunt his dreams and lead him to hell. A trouble incarnate sent to disrupt his order. No…this was a woman no older than twenty-one whom he had made his scapegoat and, for a few moments, easily physically overpowered.
He felt the water that had soaked from her body through his clothes like the mark of Cain. He'd never felt more disgusted with himself.
Immediately, he moved towards her to help her up. "Fraulein –"
But the moment he tried to get closer, she scooted back, making her message all too clear: Don't come near me. Now he could clearly see her face, the expression on her face. She looked like she were looking at a monster.
I am a monster.
Helpless, Georg watched as the young woman got herself up of the wet smooth stone, avoiding his eyes, speechless. She covered her chest with her arms, gingerly placing her palms on her upper arms. She winced.
Oh, God, no.
"Fraulein…" he said, sounding like a lost child. He needed to apologize, beg for forgiveness, properly, on his knees if he had to. But he found himself without the right words – as if he weren't disgusted enough with himself…he couldn't remember her first name. He'd pushed it from his mind weeks ago, dehumanizing her for sake of his own pain. He begged his mind to recall her name. "Fraulein…" he began again.
Too late. She looked up at him, and saw in his face his thought process. Anger and dignity mingled with the hurt and the shock. That expression would haunt him for a long time.
"Maria," she said, her voice thick and trembling. "My name is Maria."
With that, the young woman, still crossing her arms, ran past him, up the stairs and into the house. The sweep of air that hit him as she rushed past felt like a slap – he welcomed it.
Oh, God, what have I done?
A/N: I told you this story wouldn't be like my others, did I? The road ahead of them will not be an easy one. Don't worry; I won't leave you readers hanging for long.
