A Time to Confront
Georg had a sinking feeling when he heard Max speak to him in the authoritative tone for once, and headed into his study as he asked. Max followed him into the room and shut the door behind him. He didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at Georg.
The two men had been friends through war and peace, love and loss, joy and sorrow; Georg could see from that look that Max knew. His heart suddenly was as heavy as lead, so he leaned against his desk, cornered. "So you watched from the window."
"No," replied Max. Georg's eyes widened, taken aback. "But Elsa did."
Georg's eyes widened even more and he slammed his palms down on the desk as he exclaimed, "Shit!" and began pacing the room.
"Oh, she didn't tell me what she saw, but I knew whom she was watching and that it had to be something very bad by the look on her face. Then, when you came into the room, I saw you had damp patches on the front of your suit."
Georg had stopped his pacing and stood in front of the window, his forehead leaning against the cool glass pane. Max continued, slowly stepping closer to Georg.
"I got a bad feeling so I went to find her, wanting to know what happened. I found her in her room packing and shaking; I felt like she might shatter at a harsh sound. She nearly did after I found out what happened."
Georg turned around, looking at Max. "She…said…what exactly?"
"I guessed specifically, she confirmed reluctantly. I know everything you did."
All Georg could do was hang his head, covering his face with his palm. A long moment silence followed, before Georg headed for the door, muttering, "I have no excuse, I need to apologize –"
"She's not here, Georg."
That stopped him before he could open the door, and he looked suspiciously at his friend. "Max?"
"I drove her back to the abbey just now. She was set on leaving, and, in the state she was in, I felt very uncomfortable with her walking all that way by herself. Also, you'll forgive my saying so, but after what you did, I certainly didn't think here with you or Elsa was a good place for her to be."
For a moment, it looked like Georg wanted to hit Max, but as the words sunk in, his expression went from angry to devastated and self-loathing. He leaned back against the door and covered his face with both of his hands now. In a broken voice, he whispered, "What on earth am I going to tell the children?"
"You should have thought about that before you set upon an innocent woman."
Now Georg looked very angry, lifting his face from his hands and even taking a step to Max. "I would never…Max, I…I never wanted to…I wasn't thinking!"
"That's my point exactly!"
The intense moment between the two men passed as they calmed their breathing down. Eventually, Georg wilted under Max's clear stare and asked almost timidly, "Did she…say anything for…"
Max sighed. "She just wants to know why, Georg, and what she could have done to make you –"
"She did nothing," he hissed, looking at his feet. "This is all my fault…" He gave a deep sigh just before the grandfather clock in the study chimed six times. He looked at the clock then back at Max. "Can we have a longer talk after the children are abed? We'll have time then, and I need time now to figure out what I'm going to tell the children."
At that moment, distant childlike shouts of "Fraulein Maria!" in panicked voices could be heard. Georg closed his eyes as if in pain.
For the first time in the conversation, Max looked at him with something akin to sympathy. "Better figure it out fast, my friend."
The Reverend Mother of Nonberg Abbey sat at her desk, filling out some necessary letters this early evening. She hoped to get the majority of them done before six o'clock mass just before dinner. But, looking at the mountain of paper before her, she didn't have high hopes. Either way, she wasn't in a big hurry.
An unexpected knock sounded at her office door. Thankful for the distraction, she looked up from her letter and called, "Ave."
The door opened and Sister Margaretta entered. The Reverend Mother immediately gave her her full attention by the look on her face. "Sister, what is it?"
"Maria's come back, Mother," said Sister Margaretta.
The Reverend Mother's eyes widened a bit and she stood up slowly, disturbed by the look on Sister Margaretta's face. "Back…but the summer is only half-way over, what's happened?"
Sister Margaretta shook her head. "I don't know, Mother, but I have a bad feeling. The look on Maria's face, there's so much sadness and hurt and fear in her eyes, I don't know what happened but it had to have been something capital for her to look like this. She just asked to go straight to her room and begin seclusion."
"Seclusion?" Now the Reverend Mother knew something was wrong. Seclusion was a practice the sisters sometimes employed at the abbey – this meant a vow of complete silence, except for prayer, and isolation from others, even the nuns, except for mass. Even then, they stayed in a private little alcove. The practice was employed mostly by postulants and novitiates just before taking the next step towards becoming a nun, or to any nun who suffered a loss. But for Maria, who could never resist being away from her mountain for more than a few days and couldn't stop herself saying anything on her mind, and having come back unexpectedly and early from her employment, it could only be bad news.
"Shall I bring her here, Reverend Mother?" asked Sister Margaretta. The Reverend Mother did have the power to break seclusion by contacting her.
"No," said the Reverend Mother, moving to the door. "I'll see her myself. Come with me, sister, she's always been most fond of you."
"And I, her," said Sister Margaretta, following her out of the office. "She's a wonderful girl. Whether or not she would make a good nun, she had a big heart and a faith to match anyone here. She tries her best."
"Which is why something had to have gone wrong for her to come back early," said the Reverend Mother. They arrived at the wooden door, one of many, that led into Maria's tiny postulant's room. The Reverend Mother softly knocked; no answer. Using her authority, she opened the door softly and the two older women looked inside.
What she saw broke her heart: Maria sitting on her bed, arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried between her arms. She was shaking a little.
"Maria," said the Reverend Mother gently, but Maria reacted violently. Her head shot up like a caged bird and immediately got off the bed. She knelt before the Reverend Mother, kissing her hand. But she couldn't find the strength to lift her head or get back up.
"I'm so sorry, Reverend Mother," she said, pleading. "Please don't be disappointed in me for coming back like this, but I was so frightened –"
"Frightened?" asked the Reverend Mother, briefly sharing a scared look with Sister Margaretta. This was serious, indeed. Turning to look back down at Maria, she asked, "Were they unkind to you?"
At that moment, loud bells announcing half past five tolled through the walls. The Reverend Mother made her decision. "Sister Margaretta, prepare for mass with Sister Berthe without me; I'm unavoidably detained." She rarely used this power, but it was not unheard of.
Sister Margaretta and, after a brief caress of Maria's bare head, left the room and softly shut the door behind her.
The Reverend Mother helped Maria get up and sat her down on the edge of the bed with her. Soothingly rubbing her back, she said, "Tell me everything, my child."
And Maria allowed herself to cry for the first time that day, as she laid her head on her mother figure's shoulder and told the entire story that she knew.
