A Time to Return

On the morning of the thirty-first, the last day of May, Hans received another coded telegram, which he destroyed after he had deciphered and memorized the contents. His next call was to Max, who asked him to accompany him to the late mass at the Church of St. Joseph. Max understood what that meant.

Both men wished they could send some word to Maria, but that was impossible.


After mass, as the sun was setting, Hans, Max and Father Norbert all waited inside the church, restless in their own ways: Hans paced up and down the center aisle, Max tapped his fingers on the pew he was sitting in and tapped his foot rhythmically, while Father Norbert sat in his chair near the altar in prayer.

Minute after minute ticked away, and all three of them jumped slightly when the bells in the tower chimed eight times. They didn't know how long after that until they heard sounds of someone coming through the private back entrance. All three men stood up right away, waiting with baited breath and hoping to recognize the person who was coming towards them.

They did, but just barely. In through the side entrance came a man who almost looked wild. The clothes he wore were ratty and unfitting, the boots were falling apart, his dark hair was mussed, and he had a beard that was nearly three weeks old. But his blue eyes and stance made no mistake about it.

"Georg!" exclaimed Max, getting up and following Hans up the aisle towards him.

"My boy!" said Father Norbert in relief.

Georg walked up the two stairs to the altar, and knelt before the sacristy, as was custom whenever one passed it. He stayed in that position for a long minute and seemed to collapse within himself from weariness. But that did not last more than that long minute, for soon he was on his feet again to greet his comrades. He briefly embraced both of his navy buddies, and knelt before Father Norbert so he could give a blessing of thanks for his return.

"I'm so glad you are home and safe, my son," said the old priest.

"Even if I am officially and legally dead?" asked Georg. His voice was tired and hoarse, but was full of his dry humor, which made the other three men smile.

"You look a fright!" said Max, chuckling and clapping Georg on the back, sitting beside him on the floor.

Georg grunted at the contact and grumbled at the comment. "Well, considering that I've spent the last two weeks traveling like a fugitive in luggage compartments, the backs of trucks and on foot..."

Hans chuckled and then turned serious. "Are you all right, really? That was no easy maneuver you pulled in the Mediterranean, and if you escaped without even a scratch, you're indestructible."

Georg sighed and pulled back his baggy sleeve, revealing a make-shift bandage covering his forearm. "Burn, somewhere between first and second degree. I've been changing the bandage and treating it as best I could. How bad does it look?" he asked as he untied the bandage, revealing the red, rough textured skin.

"Well, considering all you've been through, this could have been a lot worse," said Hans, immediately opening his medical bag and beginning to clean it. "At least it's healing well. I'll just give you some proper ointment for you to put on it twice a day for the next week. I know either you or Maria will remember to."

At the mention of his wife, Georg's eyes lit up, and he seemed ready to run out of the church if Max hadn't put his hand on Georg's shoulder. "Let Hans finish first, Georg. She'll still be there waiting for you."

Georg took a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to keep himself calm and still. "I should have arrived yesterday. Damn that thunderstorm holding everything up."

"Well, thank God you came tonight," said Hans, now putting a proper bandage around the arm. "We'd all have been very worried if that telegram hadn't come this morning."

"Destroyed?"

"Yes."

"All other evidence?"

"Gone."

"Oh, and all of the personal effects you mailed me before your 'death,' Georg, they are in my room at the villa."

Georg nodded. "Thank you."

"All done," said Hans, the bandage wrapped on firmly. "Remember what I said about applying this ointment, and you can take it off in a week."

Georg nodded. "Could you two wait in the car? I want to speak to Father Norbert for a minute."

Hans and Max nodded before heading out of the church. When they were gone, Georg went to Father Norbert and sat at his feet. This man had been a true father figure his whole life, and now Georg realized that he would never see him again. "Father…there is nothing I can say that will convey the gratitude I feel towards you. You've looked out for me my whole life, and helped me down the path God has set out for me. I'm sorry I could not have been better." When he said this last sentence, Georg thought of his behavior after Agathe had died. The next time he had seen Father Norbert and the Church of St. Joseph after Agathe's funeral had been last year, when he had been debating over whether or not to propose to Maria.

Father Norbert put his withered hand on Georg's shoulder. "I've known you all your life, Georg. Seen you through your best and worst times, at the highlights of your life. I baptized you and each of your children, and presided over both of your marriages. I've seen you serve the country you love, and now I see you doing everything you can to give your wife and family a good life in freedom." He smiled. "You couldn't be better in my eyes."

Georg found his vision blurring and his throat constricting. It didn't surprise him, however, because Father Norbert had, indeed, known him that long, and he was one of the few people whose opinion greatly mattered to Georg.

Father Norbert's smile widened slightly. "I'm not worried about you, my son, for several reasons. One, you've accomplished an incredible feat by just being here, with us, right now. Second, you would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you and those you love are in safety, freedom and happiness. Third, you have something very precious. Remember when you came to me last August, when you wanted to make right your mistakes, you said that it would be impossible for Maria to love you. Have you not been proven wrong?"

Now a tear spilled out from Georg's eye, and he covered his face while he let himself softly cry, out of joy, out of relief, out of exhaustion, out of being just overwhelmed. Father Norbert's grip on his shoulder was a strong anchor that he steadied himself against.

"God is with you, Georg, and if nothing else her love proves that."


Five minutes later, Georg came slowly out of the church and got in the car's back seat, with Hans and Max in the front. He remained completely silent on drive. First they came to Hans's house, where they dropped him off.

"My friend, for all you've done for my family…" Georg began.

Hans held up his hand. "You saved my skin numerous times during the war. It's the least I can do."

"And take care of yourself, Hans, please," said Georg, with genuine concern. "I now know first hand how hard it is to be a spy."

Hans nodded, and the two men embraced before Hans waved to them both and went back inside his house, locking the door.

The next stop was the hotel, which was closer to the villa than Hans's house had been. They couldn't risk driving to the villa. Both men got out of the car and looked at each other.

"If they find out…"

Max just smiled like a Shakespearean fool. "Who would suspect rich-people-loving Maxie who refuses to take any political side?"

In spite of it all, Georg laughed, then turned serious. "Take care of yourself."

Max nodded. "You too."

The two men embraced like brothers, no other words needed.


Georg's walk back to his home for one more week was mercifully short, and was a cakewalk compared to what the rest of his journey had been like. Though there was a new moon, there was plenty of starlight to guide him home. And the thought of what he would find when he got there gave him the strength to walk triple the distance.

He didn't run but walked with a purpose, contemplating what had just happened. He knew that the only way he would ever come back to Austria was if the Nazi party was no more and the Anschluss had ended – when Hitler's rule was over. But when would that be? One year? Five years? Ten? If he did come back after that, there was a good chance Father Norbert would no longer be alive; he was already in his eighties. And the job Hans had taken on for himself could mean he might die tomorrow. Max and Philomena he was confident would survive – they were good at adapting and camouflaging themselves to any background and still manage to be the life of the party. They would be fine.

Maria would tell him to count his blessings, so he did: he got to say proper goodbyes, and have Father Norbert bless him one last time.

The sight of the villa beyond the gates, even with the curtains drawn and no lights on, brought a peace to Georg's heart he had not felt since Maria's birthday. Silently he slipped through the gates, making sure they were securely locked, and ran to the front doors. He came inside quietly, shutting the door and locking it very quietly.

The sound he heard made his heart fill. A faint light was coming from the room that held the grand piano (a room that faced the lake). And from that room he also heard the sound of someone playing a melody slowly with one hand, and the most beautiful voice humming along with it. Georg walked slowly toward the room, as if he might break a spell by moving too suddenly. Finally, he came to stand in the doorway, and felt complete again as he watched Maria at the piano.

It did not matter that the tune she was playing and humming was unfamiliar to him; she was still just as entrancing. Her back was to him, and she wore her white robe. Only when he let his eyes get a good look at her in the faint light did he realize her humming was shaky. Then he watched the tune abruptly stop with a wrong key and Maria wiping her tears away.

He couldn't stop himself. "Maria…" he said softly, gently, praying she would not get scared or not recognize him. He watched her body posture straighten and stiffen, and he knew her senses were now alert. Slowly, she turned her head to look over her shoulder, and she saw his figure standing in the doorway. Realizing the lighting was very dim, he was wearing unfamiliar clothes and he had not shaved in nearly three weeks, he rasped, hoping to sound reassuring but ended up almost begging, "It's me!"

Maria blinked, slowly got off the piano bench, and, like Georg a few moments ago, walked slowly as if hoping not to break the spell. The man she saw before her, his features becoming clearer as she came closer in the dim lighting, she only just recognized. This husband of hers looked like a vagabond, from his worn shoes to his short beard. But when she was standing less than a foot from him, she reached up and tentatively touched his cheek, the whiskers she felt there unfamiliar but not unpleasant. She saw him briefly close his eyes and sigh at her touch.

When they opened again, and she saw her husband's familiar fire blue eyes, her heart lifted and all doubts vanished, only to be replaced with pure joy and love.

"It is you!" The words had barely come out when his lips covered hers in a passionate and rejoicing kiss.

From that moment on, their hearts and bodies took over, flesh eager to rejoin again. Where their first night together had been tender, now they were almost desperate. It wasn't long before Georg's lips descended down her neck, his whiskers tickling her, while her hands gripped his hair. Hands tugged at clothing, almost ripping it off – robe, coat, shirt, and nightgown all fell to the floor. When their bodies were pressed together, skin on skin, Georg picked her up and carried her to the stairs. He only had one desire that he'd held for months in his mind: to make love to his wife in their bed.

As he carried her up the stairs to their bedroom, Maria had her arms wrapped around his neck, and her breathing was very shallow. There was a fire both in her chest and between her legs that had to be tended to as quickly as possible. And Georg felt the same.

Georg barely let her out of his arms before they both collapsed on their bed and somehow disposed of the rest of their clothing. Maria, having felt how hard he had become and knowing how dripping wet she was, expected him to plunge into her then and there. But he didn't. Instead, he kissed, licked, sucked and nibbled his way down her body, his hands caressing her skin, making her writhe and groan. She was nearly undone when she felt his lips and tongue between her legs. She had to grip the bars of the headboard, and Georg braced her thighs to keep her still. This pleasure was so different and yet…so good.

But before she could reach that sweet climax, his lips were gone and she'd never felt more disappointed. But that only lasted for a second, because in the next second, he'd slid up her body and captured her lips with his own. She gasped as she tasted herself and then gasped as he pressed into her. They pumped and moved, back and forth, in and out, in a steadily increasing rhythm that was only bent on release, which came quickly for both after their time apart. Maria cried in fulfillment as Georg roared in triumph before collapsing, tangled together and perfectly sated.

Georg turned on his back and took Maria with him, holding her securely to him as he pressed his face to her hair, inhaling the scent he had missed so much. Maria pressed her cheek to his chest and kissed it, her hand over his beating heart. The afterglow kept them in a tranquil happy state, and even when that ebbed away, they still felt wonderful.

Georg spoke first, into her ear. "I don't think I've said 'hello' yet."

Maria laughed like she hadn't laughed in months, and so did Georg, who turned them over so they were lying side-by-side, facing each other.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close. It was only then that she noticed the bandage around his other forearm. "Georg, you're hurt?" she asked, her heart going to her throat.

"Shh," he said, kissing her nose. "It's all right, my love. Minor burn, and it's healing well."

"What happened?"

"One can't escape from a burning submarine completely unscathed, I'm afraid."

Maria turned pale and her eyes filled with tears. Georg immediately pulled her into a hug, kissing her neck and rubbing her back in comfort. "I'm so sorry for putting you through this. I wanted to tell you, I really did."

Maria sighed, and let a few tears fall. "I know." She held him tighter. "You're here; that's all that matters now, that we're together."

As they held each other, an unspoken agreement seemed to passed between their hearts: that they would save conversations about the hardships each had endured in the past weeks for a time later than tonight. Tonight they only felt two emotions: the joy of having their beloved spouse back with them, and the relief to finally be able to get a good night's sleep for the first time in two months.