A Time for Blocking

Georg Von Trapp could only ever remember feeling this apprehensive once in his life: he was seventeen, and had gone to the local pub to celebrate the end of the rigorous training/testing week at the Naval Academy with a group of his friends. Unfortunately, they'd all had too much fun and showed up late and hung-over for inspection. Boy, he'd been apprehensive when he walked into the office of his commanding officer, and it was only due to his top marks in the training and exams that he was not immediately discharged.

Now, Georg felt sure that he would not make it out so easy. After all, his crime this time had been much worse.

After knocking on the grand wooden door, he heard the rich voice of a woman say, "Ave," in a commanding way. Taking a deep breath, Georg opened the door and stepped inside.

The office, like the Abbey itself, had stone walls and floor, but one could tell someone with high position resided here, if only by the beautiful artwork and beautiful golden-glass window. And sitting at a dark-wood desk in an elegant dark-wood chair was the Reverend Mother. It wasn't the large golden cross that hung with authority around her neck; it was the dignity and authority in her aged face and bright eyes that confirmed it.

"Close the door, please, Captain, and take a seat," she said simply, with a quiet authority and a hint of ice. Georg immediately obeyed.

"Reverend Mother, thank you for seeing me," he said humbly. He found it difficult to keep her sharp gaze, which told him that Maria had told her everything. He felt the guilt seep through his blood like a black poison. It seemed like a long time passed before she spoke, but her gaze never lost their angry and accusatory light.

"When I gave Maria her assignment as your governess, I described you as a fine, brave man. After listening to Maria's story through her tears yesterday, I wish I could say my opinion has not changed. Had I known that anything, anything like this would happen to her, that you were capable of doing something like this to her, I would have ignored your request for a governess completely. I placed her under your protection, Captain, trusting you with her; what you have done may not mean much in the eyes of the law – God knows how many rich men take advantage of those who serve them – but in my eyes, the sisters, God and especially Maria…well, it means a great deal."

"In my own eyes, too, Reverend Mother," replied Georg, more ashamed than ever after hearing those words from her. She spoke in a straight and neutral tone, which only made the words speak for themselves, how awful they were. "I have never committed a greater sin, even considering my time in the war. If I had known this would happen, I would have sent her away on sight. And even if it takes Maria ten lifetimes, only her forgiveness could ever make me consider forgiving myself."

It was very hard to keep eye contact with the Reverend Mother; he wanted to hang his head in shame. But Georg wanted, needed this woman to see he was being honest, that he wanted to make it right, that he would do anything to take back what he did, not just yesterday, but over the past three years.

Again, there were long moments before the Reverend Mother spoke as she searched his eyes. Georg felt as if she were a surgeon, using his eyes to examine his soul. Determined to be brave, his gaze, like hers, did not waver, willing her to believe the truth.

The Reverend Mother took a deep breath, finally, and her eyes told him that she was at least willing to listen. "If there is anybody in this world that wants only to be all that God wants her to be, it is Maria. What on earth did she do that, in your mind, gave you the idea that she would give up her duty and beliefs to be your playmate?"

Georg couldn't help but cringe inwardly at her words, but he deserved them. "She did nothing wrong; the fault is entirely mine. I will not offer excuses – there is no excuse for my actions. I can only offer an explanation, even if I don't fully understand all of my reasons yet."

After another long look, the Reverend Mother slowly got up from her desk and slowly walked over to the shrine to Christ in her office. She stood before it for long moments. Georg didn't dare speak or interrupt her.

Finally, the Reverend Mother turned around and faced him. For the first time since he saw her, the hardness in her face was somewhat softened. "Your actions to Maria were deplorable, Captain. But I do believe that this is very out of character for you; after all, you came here offering no excuses or blame for Maria, and I see the genuine remorse in your eyes.

"But Maria is as close to a daughter as I have. I cannot let you see her; the only way I can is if she tells me it is all right. As for your explanation, I would suggest you don't try to see her again until you know exactly why you did what you did, every single reason. Maria deserves no less than the truth, so she can stop blaming herself."

"Blaming herself?" asked Georg, horrified. "She did nothing wrong, absolutely nothing!"

The Reverend Mother held up a hand for him to stop, and looked regretful of her slip of the tongue. "She is confused, Captain, about what she could have done to make you think of her in such a way. She is also, I think, angry that she was put in this position." The Reverend Mother seemed to choose her words carefully. "I know very little of Maria's past before she came to us; she has only ever described her childhood and youth as 'wicked' and 'miserable.' I don't know for sure, but it would not surprise me if you were not the first person to assault her."

Georg's horror reflected on his face, and he let out a pained exhale as he buried is face in his palms, slumping in his chair. He wanted to sink into hell right then and there, to think of what damage he might have done. He sat there for a long time, pushing the tears back into his eyes, all the while feeling the Reverend Mother's gaze on himself.

When he did raise his face, he looked at the Reverend Mother with pleading eyes. "Anything," Georg said softly. "I will do anything to make this right, Reverend Mother. She gave me my children back, opened my eyes to all I had pushed away since the death of my wife. It is not fair that I have gained so much and not her."

The Reverend Mother finally looked at him with some form of compassion. "I will hold you to that vow, Captain, when the time comes." She walked back to sit behind her desk. "You can start by telling me as much as you can about your actions yesterday, and what prompted them."


Maria came back into her small room after Sister Margaretta had escorted Marta away towards the Reverend Mother's office. The two of them had spent nearly an hour sitting in the gardens, Marta talking as Maria braided her loose, thick brown hair prettily. The little girl had never looked so happy as she eagerly told Maria all that had happened since the children had sang for the Baroness. Her little fingers never ceased to smooth the folds of her pretty new dress, or twirl the beloved pink parasol in her hands.

The former governess, meanwhile, was glad that she was seated behind Marta as she brushed and braided; the look of surprise, astonishment, and near disbelief never leaving her face. After all he had done to her…he'd listened to her? To love his children and open his heart was all Maria had ever wanted the Captain to do. And now he was doing it. She should be happy, especially for the children.

And to a certain degree she was after kissing Marta good-bye. The previous night Maria had tossed and turned with, not only because Maria could not rid herself of the horrible memory of the previous afternoon, but also with guilt. What had she left the children to, if this was the man their father was? After all she had done to defend them, had she left them to the abuse she had just endured?

But what choice did she have? A long time ago, Maria had promised herself that she would never put herself in a position to let any man hurt her again. But somehow she had broken that promise, and she couldn't understand how.

Hearing Marta's account – which couldn't be false from a seven-year-old and dress and parasol were proof enough – lifted a great weight off Maria's heart. The children she had grown to love so much now had their loving father back, and a happy home with music, too.

Leaning against her closed door in the tiny room, Maria pulled out the small envelope Marta had given her. A strong, masculine hand had written 'Maria' in black ink; no secrets as to who this was from.

For a moment, Maria considered opening it, but when she felt the reoccurring pain in her upper arms, she immediately locked it in her bedside-table drawer.

Even if this man was now the loving father his children deserved, this was still the man who had taken away her first kiss by force and against her will. And he'd replaced it with a horrifying memory, sore bum and hands from falling onto the wet pavement, and more physical proof.

Sitting on her bed, she carefully took off her black postulant's dress and looked at her bare upper arms. Touching her right upper with her left hand, she winced as she put pressure on the bruises.

Not even the Reverend Mother knew. One trait as a child she still had: she could never bear to show anybody her injuries and scars, emotional or physical.

No…she was not ready to forgive him, let alone see him…she was still bruised, and could not think of him without remembering the fierce anger in his eyes.