A/N: I apologize for the long delay in updating and I would like to thank my readers for not giving up on the story. It's back on track and there will be more chapters to come!
Maria walked through her house, feeling the unusual silence pressing down on her like a tangible weight. Or was that just concern for Georg? It was impossible for her to tell the difference. The concern and the silence were part of the same occurrence: the fact that Georg was heading out to the Swiss border to collect three refugees.
She trusted him – had faith that he would handle this mission brilliantly, collect the three violinists, and not be seen or caught during the process. If there was anyone she would trust to handle a situation like this it was her husband. After all, he had managed the safe escape of their entire family from Austria into Switzerland and done it brilliantly. Maria reminded herself that the escape of nine people through the Alps, some of them young children, was nothing short of miraculous. She credited God with so much of the success of that escape, but it was God who had ensured that Georg had led them.
Still, as much as she trusted God and trusted Georg, she had been at his side for most of that journey. She had known what was happening. She hadn't had to stay at home and wait, unknowing, as she did now.
And so unable to sit and relax or focus on a task, Maria found herself walking through the house, pacing the halls and wondering what was happening.
The older children knew what their father was doing. They had all retired quietly to their rooms after dinner once he had left. Maria supposed they were feeling a similar mixture of the trust and anxiety that she was experiencing. The mood was pervasive through the house. Even the younger children had picked up on it, though they didn't know what was happening. And so, even though it wasn't quite 8 o'clock at night, the house was completely quiet. No playing, no shouts, no bickering, no singing. None of the usual cacophony. It was just eerily quiet, and Maria found herself wandering through the halls, unsure of what to do.
All three of the beds had been prepared. There was extra food ready. Everything seemed ready. She had thought of rehearsing them for their upcoming concert in Geneva, but didn't want to force it just to occupy herself. Georg would be back soon, she told herself, and then things would return to normal. There would be plenty of time to practice. For now all there was to do was pray.
oooooooooooooooooooooooo
Georg felt the adrenaline pumping through him and the blood rushing through his veins for the first time in two or more months. In his own way, he was approaching the front lines again and actually doing something to help a few of the decent people of Austria.
Every sense of his was heightened. Although this should be a simple, almost routine mission, Georg had learned that those "routine" missions were the ones where things could go the most wrong. If you let your guard down - if you think for one moment that it will be easy – that's when you make mistakes. He had learned that the hard way during the war. He wasn't going to make any mistakes, there was too much to lose.
The different possible scenarios kept running through his head. If the violinists weren't there, how long would he wait? How far would he go to look for them? If he was seen or recognized by the wrong people, how would he shake them off? If the violinists had been found out and were being watched, and then he was seen as helping them escape… that was the worst scenario in his opinion. The violinists would the be his responsibility and he'd have to then get them out of the country without compromising his family, and then probably find a new place to hide.
The problem was that he didn't know how heavily guarded the train station, or nearby establishments, would be at this hour. How well lit would the station be? He was walking into a situation with bad intelligence – or at least not enough intelligence. He sat up a little straighter in his seat, holding the wheel of the car. The weight of Rolfe's gun, tucked into his pants, pressed against his back. That was the most reassuring aspect of this whole trip. His "insurance".
Georg was acutely aware that Maria and the children were also in the most vulnerable position yet. If he had accepted the original commission they would have been taken care of. From the moment he had refused it and they had tried to escape, his entire family had been vulnerable. If something were to happen to him now, who would protect them? Would Ernst Schmidt, an impresario, come to their aid? Would Max, deep in Austria? Would anybody even know? They were, all of them, refugees. If he were to be found out, it would leave an arrow pointing to them. There would be little, if anything, he could do.
He had felt compelled to help these people, compelled to do something of use, but he knew there might be consequences. Still, he straightened his hands on the wheel and kept driving. The station couldn't be too far away now.
ooooooooooooooooooooo
Unsure what else to do with herself, Maria decided to check on the children. She first climbed the stairs all the way up to Liesl's room. She knocked softly and entered as she heard a response.
Liesl was sitting on her bed looking out the window, as usual. As soon as Maria entered the room she was glad she had come. Liesl looked somehow smaller, and a little frightened.
Maria walked up to her, kissed Liesl on the top of her head and sat down next to her without saying anything. Finally Liesl broke the silence. "Is Father going to be okay?" she asked. "I know I should be proud of him, and I know that Father knows how to take care of himself better than anyone else, but I can't help but feel a little scared," Liesl admitted.
"I can't think of a better man for this job than your father," Maria answered. Maria's need to reassure Liesl filled her with a new level of confidence. "Just think of all he has done in his life. Think of how he got us out of Austria! If anyone can help a few refugees, it's the Captain, your father."
"That's true," Liesl agreed. "But I still feel better when he's here." She paused for a moment. "When did that happen? I used to think I was so grown up, that I didn't need Father, that I didn't need anyone. Now I just want him to come home as soon as possible."
Maria pulled her in for a hug. "I think," she said softly, "that you've gotten smarter. It's easy to feel confident and important when you're in the safety of the villa. You realize how small you are when you really begin to see that there's a whole world out there, and that world isn't necessarily friendly."
Maria realized that she was talking in part to herself so she turned to face Liesl. "I think you're just being smart," she reiterated. "And I trust your father completely to take care of us – and to take care of himself – no matter where he is." The two sat together in silence for several more minutes.
"My advice to you," Maria finally continued, "unless you're too OLD to listen to your mother," she added teasingly, "is to think about all of the things your father has done – big and small – to take care of you. To take care of all of us. And then do the same thing with God. Don't forget that your father is not alone in this journey."
Liesl nodded and then rested her head on Maria's shoulder. "Getting smarter isn't necessarily more fun," she finally said. "It's scarier."
"The world is a scary place right now," Maria replied. "And I'm so sorry this is the world you have to grow up in. But I know that God has a plan for you, and it will be beautiful."
She smoothed Liesl's hair back for a few minutes in an innately maternal gesture. Eventually she stood back up, saying "I'm going to check on Friedrich and Kurt."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Even from a distance Georg could see that the train station was far too bright. He cursed silently to himself. Either he had been misinformed and they weren't on the last train, or the officials kept the lights on all night. Whatever the reason, he wouldn't have as much of a cover of darkness as he had expected. He hit his hands on the wheel and then said a short prayer that the violinists were already there. Waiting so close to the border, even in a local pub, did not seem like a good idea.
As he got closer he assessed the scene: a station with outdoor lights, a few cars and plenty of barbed wire enclosing the station. He could see that the Two Goats was on the left, just down the road. The lights were on and there were people in there. That at least was going according to plan, as long as there were three Austrian violinists in there waiting for him.
Georg thought for a moment how nervous these three violinists must be. Fleeing Austria was terrifying for him, at times he hadn't known if they would make it, and yet he had years of war and Naval experience backing him up. These three people, they were just musicians. Not one of them probably knew how to shoot a gun, he mused to himself.
He hoped once again that they had gotten through the border undetected and that their forged papers had worked.
Georg slowly pulled the car up towards the Two Goats. If all had gone well, the violinists would be there and he wouldn't have to go into the well-lit train station.
ooooooooooooooooooooo
Maria walked quietly into Friedrich and Kurt's room. At this point it was bed time for the children, and past bed time for the younger ones. Still, the silence felt as oppressive as it had earlier, and she felt compelled to check on all of the children.
Kurt was in his bed, snoring softly, but Friedrich was still awake and sitting at his desk, surrounded by paper. He looked up as she came in. Friedrich had grown so tall in the last few months, and was looking at her with eyes that seemed so haunted they broke her heart.
She walked over to him and put one arm around his shoulders, looking down at his papers. They were covered with drawings – precise lines, angles, and dotted sections of circles. She realized that his desk was covered with blueprints, though whether they were of the gazebo or of another idea, Maria didn't know. But he certainly seemed to have been captivated by this. 'And why not?' Maria mused to herself, he was artistic and intelligent. Friedrich might make a good architect if some other pursuit didn't grab hold of his interest and imagination.
Maria bent down, tracing some of the lines with her finger. They were so straight. She didn't think she could draw anything that straight and precise. She smiled, despite the oppressive mood in the air. One of the wonders of having children was that they never ceased to surprise and amaze her. Here was one more example.
Friedrich sighed and she turned her attention back to him. She longed to ruffle his hair, but he seemed too old for that. No, not too old, that wasn't quite the right word. Too grown up? Too experienced? Too sad? Whether she liked it or not he was becoming a man as much by experience as by age, and there was very little she could do about it.
Maria took her thumb and traced the shadows under his eyes. It was a gesture that was so simple, yet so intimate. Friedrich never stopped looking at her. "Why these eyes?" she asked him, quietly. "What's wrong?"
He blew out a frustrated burst of air – Maria could tell he would probably have jumped up, pounded the table, or done something a little more dramatic, and a little angrier, if he weren't trying to be quiet for Kurt.
"I should be with him," Friedrich whispered, an intensity in his voice that Maria had never heard before. "He's out there facing God knows what" – here Maria winced at his expression – "God knows what," Friedrich repeated emphatically, "to rescue three refugees. And I'm here, safe in our house, unable to do anything to help him. I should be there. I should be helping him."
Maria could tell that trying to appease Friedrich, trying to talk to him as a child wasn't going to work. Not anymore. As much as she didn't want to, she had to talk to him like a man, reason with him like a man. She prayed for a moment to find the right words and in that moment noted that she spent more time praying these days – as a wife and a mother – than she had as a postulant at the Abbey. There was nothing like love and being responsible for the people you loved, to bring you to your knees, in spirit if not in body.
"Friedrich," she began, "your father is the most capable, brilliant man I have ever met. He is more than able to pick up three musicians from a railway pub and bring them home again. If he weren't, he wouldn't have agreed to do it. Or he would have asked for your help, as he did when we were in the Alps."
Friedrich turned his face away in frustration, but Maria cupped his face in her hand and turned it back to her. "He would have," she asserted again. "This is a mission he can handle by himself. The only thing that would complicate it for him would be if one of us were with him, because then he wouldn't be able to focus as clearly on what he needs to do – he'd be too worried about protecting us. Right now, you are helping him most by staying at home where he knows you are safe."
Friedrich stared back at her, still frustrated and not completely convinced. Maria met his look openly and honestly, feeling his helplessness and empathizing, but not backing down.
The moment was unexpectedly broken by Kurt, clearly and emphatically saying "But I'm still sleeping!" They both looked over at him and saw that he was still sound asleep, just talking in his sleep.
"Oh, dear," Maria whispered, smothering some laughter. "Does he do that often?"
Friedrich just nodded an affirmative while trying to smother his own laughter.
Soon the two of them were laughing as silently as they could, and Maria began to hold on to Friedrich's shoulders for support. The laughter, smothered as it was, was a relief for both of them and they laughed together for several minutes until Maria's sides began to hurt. It was a good hurt.
When they finally were both able to stop laughing, Maria took his face in her hand once more. "When he needs you, he will ask you," she promised him, and prayed once more that she wouldn't live to regret it. "Now try to get some sleep, okay? Kurt certainly is." That just made both of them laugh again, but it was short lived. In a few moments Friedrich had promised her that he would go to bed, and she left the room.
Once the door closed behind her Maria let out a heavy exhale. Of all the children, Friedrich scared her the most. He was chafing at the bonds that still kept him a boy, ready to be a man. Growing up and needing to prove yourself was difficult for anyone, but growing up while a war was brewing was a recipe for … she didn't even want to think about the possibilities.
"Dear Lord, please keep him safe," she prayed. She wasn't sure, though, whether she was praying for Friedrich, Georg, or both.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The more the lights shone down on the railway station parking lot, the more Georg regretted his decision to do this. He had no wish to stir up a possible hornets' nest. But there were quite probably three refugees waiting for him in the pub. As soon as they had crossed the border they had become his responsibility, and would remain his responsibility until he had gotten them safely to Geneva. Georg was not a man to back away from responsibility. He had to do this.
He pulled into the mostly empty parking lot. There seven other cars in the lot. A quick surveillance told him that four of the cars had Swiss plates and three had German plates. He parked a comfortable distance away from the German cars, got out and quietly closed his car door. He didn't know who – if anyone – might be hiding in the shadows and didn't want to make any noise.
Georg walked as casually as he could towards the Two Goats – now on his right. A man whose face was still shadowed walked out of the Two Goats and started to walk to the station. Georg's blood ran cold as he recognized the uniform the man was wearing from his days during the Anschluss.'Keep walking,' Georg told himself. 'I'm just a local man out for a drink at the nearby pub. I may not like the Third Reich but they have nothing to do with me.'
Then something stopped him in his tracks. There was something eerily familiar about this man. As the light the officer's face, Georg realized he had seen this man before. The Aryan features, the smug expression, the jaw. Even seeing him in the dark with lights on his face was familiar.
Georg was still stopped. The man had seen him too, and until Georg had recognized – or at least sized up – this Nazi officer, he was at a disadvantage.
Suddenly Georg placed him. On that dark and fateful night, while he, Max and his family had been pushing the car out of the villa so as not to turn the motor on, he had heard a crunch of feet, car lights shining on them, and then he was face to face with Herr Zeller. But Herr Zeller had not been alone. How many officers had he had with him? Two cars full of soldiers, and one standing directly behind him.
And then Georg remembered the precise moment that he had seen this man before…
"Something wrong with your car, Captain?" Herr Zeller had asked, slightly sarcastically.
"Yes, as a matter of fact we couldn't get it started," Georg had responded, lying through his teeth and knowing that Herr Zeller knew he was lying.
"Kobb, fix Captain Von Trapp's car so that it may start," Herr Zeller had ordered. And a smug, Aryan man had stepped forward, gotten in Georg's own car and turned it on without a problem. He stepped back looking even more smug, if that were possible.
"Excellent car, Captain" …
Today, in the present, at a railway station on the Swiss border, Captain Von Trapp had come face to face with Kobb, and as the smug expression turned to surprise and then recognition, years of training took over.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Maria gently rapped on Louisa and Brigitta's door and opened it to find both girls, each in her own bed, sleepy but awake. It seemed like they had been talking.
"May I come in?" Maria asked.
"Of course," Louisa responded. Brigitta didn't say anything, she just looked at Maria with her dark eyes.
Maria sat on the side of Louisa's bed, and for a few minutes no one said anything. Finally, Maria broke the silence. "What were you girls talking about?" she asked. "Anything I can hear?" she asked again, as lightly as she could.
"Father," Louisa responded.
"What about him?" Maria asked, positioning herself at the foot of Louisa's bed so that she could look at both of her daughters at the same time."
"We agree with what he's doing," Brigitta told her.
"So do I," Maria agreed. "But why do you?" She was always interested in hearing what they were thinking.
"Well," Louisa began, choosing her words carefully, "these people, the violinists, they're kind of like us, aren't they? They loved living in Austria when it was just Austria, but now that it's … more than Austria, they don't want to live there anymore. We think it's wrong for people to be forced to live in a country they don't want to live in anymore. So we're glad Father is helping them."
Maria smiled at her two middle daughters. "I'm sure that he knows that and appreciates it," she told them. "But you know," she continued after a pause, "it's a little more serious than them not wanting to live there anymore. The new government is making it very difficult for people to live there if they disagree with the government over … just about anything."
"What do you mean, 'disagree with the government'?" Brigitta asked.
"Well, doing things that the government doesn't like, just as your father didn't want to fight for them. Things like that," Maria explained.
"What other things?" Brigitta asked.
"Oh, darling, I don't know because I'm not there," Maria responded. "But as I understand it, even little things, such as playing the wrong type of music."
"The wrong type of music?!" Louisa asked, horrified, sitting up while she spoke.
Maria instantly regretted explaining this further, and specifically regretted that example. Yet it disturbed her all the more that Brigitta didn't seem that surprised.
"Well, remember, I'm not there, so I don't really know. But I do know that things were getting very difficult for these musicians, and that's why it's so important that your father help them leave."
Maria moved up a little on Louisa's bed, and began to stroke her hair back, trying to calm her down. "But we're here, and we're safe," she reassured Louisa. "Your father is going to help as many people as he can, but he's going to make sure that nothing ever happens to you … to us."
Louisa really was very sleepy and soon had started to snuggled back down into her bed.
Very softly, very gently, Maria began to sing the soprano part from the Evening Prayer from Hansel und Gretel, a song her mother had used to sing her to sleep, long ago:
"When at night I go
to sleep
Fourteen angels watch do keep
Two my head are
guarding
Two my feet are guiding
Two are on my right hand
Two
are on my left hand
Two who warmly cover
Two who o'er me
hover
Two to whom 'tis given
To guide my steps to Heaven
Sleeping gently than it seems
Heaven enters in my dreams
Angels hovering round me
Whispering they have found me
Strewing me with roses
While my soul reposes
Blessed guardian
angel
Keep me from all danger
God will not forsake me
When dawn at last shall wake me"
Louisa and Brigitta seemed to Maria to be sleeping, or at least close sleep. She kissed both girls on the forehead and slipped out of their room, praying that they would dream of angels and not danger, their father, or the Third Reich.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Georg had a moment to wish that he had some way to muffle the sound of his gun before he shot Kobb in the head. There was no other way, Kobb had recognized him and he couldn't risk letting him tell any of his superior officers where Captain Von Trapp was.
Killed at point blank range, Kobb fell to the ground. Knowing that the sound of his gun would have been heard, Georg hoisted Kobb over his shoulder and hurried to the shadows on the edge of the lot, quickly dumping the body and his jacket there.
There were enough oil spills and stains on the ground to camouflage the blood that was on the ground until morning, but the blood on his jacket would be seen.
Sure enough, as soon as he hurried back into the main part of the lot, another, unfamiliar German officer came out of the Two Goats. He slowed and stopped as he saw Georg.
"My apologies," Georg began. "I hope I didn't startle anyone. My car has an unfortunate tendency to backfire," he continued, gesturing to a different car with Swiss plates.
The SS officer narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You sound Austrian, not Swiss."
"I was," Georg explained, utterly calm. "It was a long time ago."
"Well," the officer began, lifting his chin with all of the arrogance of someone who was sure both that he was in control of the situation, and that he was morally right. "Surely you've heard of the Anchluss. We need all able-bodied men back to return home. You will return to Austria immediately and report to your Gauleiter. Which region are you from?"
"Vienna," Georg replied, still completely calm and almost friendly. But his mind was whirling. This officer must be partnered with Kobb and would begin looking for him shortly. Georg couldn't let that happen. And if this officer returned to his superiors with tales of an Austrian man living in Switzerland, how long would it be before he saw a picture of the infamous Captain Von Trapp and figured out where he was? His escape had been far too public.
"Geneva," the officer repeated, narrowing his eyes even more. "Kobb?" He suddenly called, moving away from Georg slightly in order to look around. "Where is that man? Kobb!"
Georg saw his hand reach for his whistle, but Georg's war trained hands were faster than this young, newly minted officer. Before he could blow the whistle Georg shot him in the head as well.
The officer's eyes opened wide in surprise as he slumped to the ground.
Georg ran back to Kobb's body to grab his already blood stained jacket and wrapped his hands in it, using it to grab this other officer's body and drag it under one of the German cars. Just as the blood was camouflaged in the dark, his body should be hidden there until morning. Then he went back for Kobb's body and pulled it under another German car.
There was bound to be serious trouble when the bodies were found. Two German officers shot on the Swiss side of the border would give the Germans even more reason to fortify the borders, and possibly begin to invade Switzerland. If the defection of the violinists were discovered and linked to the deaths, he might not be able to get them to Geneva and out of the country. As it was, their escape through Geneva had just been made infinitely more difficult.
Georg also knew that in the morning, once the bodies were discovered, they would be linked with the two gun shots heard. The last thing he could do now was go into the Two Goats and pick up the violinists. Walking in so close to the gun shots? His face would be linked with them. And so he walked far away, past the lot and the barbed wire. Finally he was in the grass and crouched down, hiding and waiting.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
As Maria watched the clock tick by she grew more nervous and also more relieved. Georg should be home soon with their three guests. Not long now and he'd be safely at home. All the same, a new and intense feeling of anxiety was creeping over her. She told herself that she was just being silly and that she just wanted him home. Everything was fine, he would soon be home.
Still, she couldn't resist creeping quietly into Marta and Gretel's room to check on them.
She smiled when she entered. For two girls who had been so opposed to sharing a bed a few days earlier, they were curled up together like angels. Marta's arm was across Gretel and Gretel's head was on Marta's shoulder. Maria knew they were both sound sleepers, but she wanted to be sure she didn't wake them. She kissed both of them gently on the forehead. Marta moved slightly in her sleep and said "Hi, Mother" in a very slurred voice. Maria froze, hoping she hadn't woken her. But after a few moments she was reassured that Marta had only been unconsciously aware of her presence. She put her hand to her heart, touched by the sight of them, and crept back out of the room to wait for Georg.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Georg was still crouched in the grass, wondering how much time had ticked by. Was it enough? No one else had come to investigate. Those most have been the only Nazis near here, and he could only imagine how terrified the musicians waiting for him in the Two Goats must be by now.
He watched the stars for a while, his old friends from his Naval days. Stars were so amazing. They held their position while the world revolved around them. They didn't care who was in power, who had been killed, or who had done the killing. They kept their course and offered direction to anyone who understood them.
Part of him was reeling from the fact that he had killed two men. It had been decades since he had taken a life.
Why exactly had he left Austria? Was it because he didn't want to go to war or because he didn't want to go to war for the Third Reich?
He quickly realized that his mind was playing tricks on him. He didn't want to go to war for the Germans. They stood for all he disagreed with. If he had to, he would go to war against them, even though it meant fighting against his fellow Austrians.
Still, to take two lives … It had been a long time.
It must have been at least an hour and a half now. Possibly two hours.
Georg rolled up his blood stained coat so that the blood was on the inside and wouldn't get anything else bloody and put it on the floor of his car. He pulled his shirt most of the way out of his pants, ruffled up his hair, and loosened his tie. He wished he had some brandy or whisky to add to the effect, but he'd have to do his best without it. With a vague and rather stupid expression on his face, he walked into the Two Goats, managing to stumble on his way in.
Georg walked directly to the bar – or as directly as he could, considering that he was staggering. He plunked down a coin and said, in a voice that was too loud and too careful to be sober, "Whisky."
The bar tender measured him up and asked him if he hadn't thought he'd had enough already.
"My money not good enough? Whisky!" Georg demanded even more loudly.
The bartender shrugged and poured him a shot of whisky.
Georg drank it quickly and then set his glass down heavily demanding more. He hoped that his slurred voice would hide any traces of an Austrian accent. Meanwhile he managed to look around the room. There were only a handful of people: a tall, thin man, sitting at the bar, trying not to look disgusted. There was an older man who seemed to have fallen asleep at the table, two women who looked more than a little nervous, and two men who Georg guessed were engineers both of whom seemed intent on drinking the other under the table.
After another whiskey Georg slid over to the tall, thin man at the bar. "Buy you a drink, friend?" he asked.
"I think you've had enough," the man responded, in a heavy Austrian accent. "And you're no friend of mine."
Georg could have gone weak with relief. Those were the code words: He was to offer to buy a man a drink and if rebuffed with the specific words "you're no friend of mine," then he'd know it was one of the Austrian violinists and the other two were here as well. But relieved as he was, he had to maintain his façade of drunkenness.
"Well, I can tell when I'm not wanted!" he announced, and stomped unsteadily out of the pub. Once he was out he straightened up and walked to the side of the lot, waiting.
Several minutes later, the two women walked out of the pub. Georg could tell that they were trying to be casual, though they weren't doing a good job of it. He hurried over to them and walked them to the side of the lot, silencing them as one of them tried to speak.
Together, the three of them waited for the man at the bar. Both women were shivering. They had warm cloaks on so Georg guessed that they were more frightened than cold.
Eventually, the man from the bar walked out of the pub, and the three of them joined him. Georg ushered the three violinists silently into the car, making sure that his jacket was at his feet. He pulled out of the lot as quietly as he could and began the drive home.
Once in the car, everyone seemed to relax just a little.
"Oh, Herr Trapp," one of the women began, "Thank you so much! You can't imagine how frightened we were. And there were gun shots! It was terrifying!"
"A car, I'm sure," Georg tried to reassure her.
"Oh, do you really think so?" the other woman asked.
"Certainly," he assured her. "If it had been gunfire there would have been bodies and an investigation, wouldn't there?" Before she could respond he continued. "I apologize for my late arrival and drunken performance. It was … unavoidable."
"Did you have any trouble?" the man asked from the seat next to him.
"Nothing significant. Just taking precautions," Georg told them. "You? Did you have trouble crossing the border?"
"No, our papers worked like magic," the man replied.
"Well, then it was a successful trip," Georg said, his cheerful tone belying how he felt. "Just slightly delayed."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Back at home, Maria could not take her eyes off the clock. It was past midnight. Georg should have come back hours ago. Something had gone wrong, there was no use trying to deny it.
"Please, bring him home," she prayed aloud. And then she sank to her knees and began to pray in earnest, hands folded and eyes closed.
"Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb…"
To be continued