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Maria stood on the promenade of the ship seeing her new home for the first time. Her heart sank lower than she had ever thought possible.
America. New York City. It was bleak. Grey. There was no beauty. It seemed very loud, although that could just be the ship's horn combined with the excited chattering of the mass of people surrounding her. Maria had always been used to beautiful and clear open spaces. Space that could be filled with nature and music. Although they were still a ways out she could already tell that there was no nature to be found in her new home. She doubted there would be any music either. How could music and beauty fit into such a full and gritty space?
Maria felt her hand being tugged and looked down into Marta's anxious face. She instantly felt a wave of guilt and relief. She felt guilt over being so consumed with her own anxiety and distaste for this new land that she had temporarily forgotten what her children must be feeling. And she felt relieved to see the beauty of Marta's sweet face.
'There may be no beauty of blue skies, lush trees and mountains,' she thought to herself, 'but I am bringing the most beautiful sight in the world with me. The children.'
"Isn't this exciting?" Maria said aloud, and pasted a big, fake smile on her face. "We're almost there!"
"I don't like it, Mother," Marta said. "It doesn't look very friendly."
Maria bent down to scoop Marta up and realized wisftully she no longer had to bend quite as far to get the small girl.
"No?" she asked. "Well, you can't tell much by a city. You have to meet the people! The people here are going to be so friendly and so much fun that we'll soon forget about what the city looks like," Maria told Marta convincingly.
"Really?" Marta asked doubtfully.
"Oh yes, darling," Maria reassured her. "After all, Americans are famous for their friendliness and hospitality. Once we are all settled in we are going to have such fun and such a wonderful adventure here."
Marta didn't respond but instead rested her head sadly against Maria's shoulder. Maria gave her a small hug, wishing she could do more to help her children through this. When had they gotten so perceptive? Each one had gotten so much older than his or her actual age. She knew Marta remained unconvinced and dreaded the day she'd see right through her mother's attempts at
Maria started to put Marta down - her arms were really starting to burn - when she caught Georg looking at her over the heads of Gretl, Brigitta and Kurt. Maria held his gaze for a few seconds longer than she had intended. Then she turned her face away, kissed Marta on the head and put her back down.
She hoped, as she had hoped so many times on their voyage here, that the children didn't notice how cool their parents had suddenly become towards each other. But deep down she knew they had noticed. How could they not?
Georg and Maria barely touched or spoke these days if they could possibly avoid it yet they had once been so loving towards one another. Even Georg, who had serious reservations about displaying affection in public had changed his opinion about that.
No, the children had to know something was wrong between their parents. They'd worked so hard, maybe even too hard, to entertain themselves on the ship. Toys, books, games, music – there had been a constant stream of activities. The children were either in denial about the tension between their parents or were trying to distract themselves (and each other) from it. No one had even commented on the fact that Georg and Maria had not shared a room on board.
They had explained that they were only able to procure three cabins. Given how last minute the entire trip was, given the fact that Georg could not reserve cabins in advance, this was true. And with only three cabins it made sense to split up and share rooms with the children rather than each other. Otherwise, the two parents would have taken one room, the two boys the second room and then all five girls would have been crammed into the third cabin.
It simply made sense for them to spread out more evenly - for Georg to stay in a room with the boys, Maria to stay with Marta and Gretl, and for Louisa, Brigitta and Liesl to share a room. 3 rooms with 3 people in each. It was much more practical than having Georg and Maria share a room and having the other two rooms split so unevenly. 'Oh, what a perfect excuse,' Maria thought bitterly.
The children certainly understood the practicality of this. The children certainly didn't think it was strange that she and Georg weren't sharing a room. Certainly. Maria had reassured herself of this several times a day throughout their voyage. And yet...
Maria looked away from the new shoreline that was looming ever closer and saw Brigitta looking at her. She gave Brigitta a reassuring smile and blew her a kiss before turning back to her first sight of America.
Deep down Maria knew that her children, especially the older ones, knew that something was very wrong. She just didn't want to admit it to herself. The thought of adding even more uncertainty and instability to their lives, already so upside down, was more than she could bear.
Despite the press of people milling around them she could feel him standing just a few feet away, cold and aloof in the middle of all the excitement. She was still always aware of his presence. What was he thinking, watching New York come into view? What new plans was he forming to protect their family?
Maria was still in awe of how masterfully he had handled their flight from Switzerland. It was so very different from how they had fled Austria. There had been nothing furtive about it, just a large and wealthy family going on a vacation. Who never came back.
Her husband was so very competent, so very commanding. Part of her heart whispered to her that he truly had no choice other than to kill that man in order to protect her family. It reminded her they they now lived in a world at war and that she needed to support her husband in his best attempts to protect their family. Above all, it told her to throw her arms around him, to feel is warmth and his strength once again and to never let go.
But the burden of an unconfessed sin - an unconfessed mortal sin - weighed heavily on the rest of her heart. It told her that a life taken was still a life taken, and it reminded her that he had prevented her from making her confession thus controlling her very soul. It was as if she was being asked to make an impossible choice between the love she felt for her husband – a love that was holy, as the Reverand Mother had said – and her beliefs. How could she make such a choice?
Every night as Maria got into bed all she could think about was how much she missed her husband. She missed the closeness they shared at night. She missed his physical presence, so comforting as he lay next to her through the night. She missed his warmth and his smell. She even grew to miss his occasional snores. Yet she would not - could not - let him know. She could barely look him in the eyes anymore, let alone tell him how desperately she missed him.
She wasn't angry with him about their latest exodus. She understood why it was necessary and, the more she thought about it she even agreed that they'd had no other choice. As for the lives of those men, she was heartsick, and grieved to her core, but she knew that in that moment he'd seen no other option. Had he made the mistake of his life? As much as she tried to think of another way he could have handled what happened, she could see why he acted the way he did.
What else could he have done? Pretend to be someone else and try to convince Kobb that he had been mistaken? That would never have worked. And the idea of trying to convince Kobb not to reveal them was laughable. She'd thought about it almost constantly since he had told her, but she still didn't see what else he could have done.
Yet she thought of those men every moment of every day. She thought of their families. Had they had wives and children? Were two families now left without a father and husband? Certainly they'd at least had parents. She knew what it was to be a parent, to love someone so much more than her own life, and every day she thought about the grief that those parents must be experiencing.
Once again this made her think of the men he had killed in the previous war. He been lauded for that, decorated even. Yet it had always remained theoretical to her. And he had been fighting for his country! These deaths – they were so real to her. They felt like something else entirely. But was that really fair?
That sadness weighed heavily on her. But what made her angry, what made her so angry that she couldn't even look at Georg, was the fact that he had forbidden her confession. If he didn't want to confess then that was between him and God, but how dare he try to dictate the terms of her relationship with God? It was so unreasonable for such a rational man! Didn't he know that the priest would be bound by a vow of secrecy? But he had remained deaf to her pleas. He seemed to think that not all priests could be trusted! The audacity of this idea, combined with her shock and heartache, set her head spinning.
Maria could feel the fury rising in her once again and consciously tried to suppress it. She looked out over the crowds of people, trying to distract herself. Were these people hopeful about the future they were going to create, or were they heartsick about what had forced them here in the first place? She looked at a few weary faces and tried to guess where each person fell on that scale.
Maria knew that Georg couldn't stop her from confessing indefinitely. When the time was right, she would be able slip away and find a church. He would never even have to know. If she had been able to find a church, and some time, before now then she would have already done so.
Was it wrong? Was it wrong to defy him in this way? She had promised before God to honor and obey him, and she had meant that vow with all her heart. And yet there was something in her couldn't agree to a decision that was so very wrong, no matter what she had promised.
Above all, she felt confused. Had she failed him when he needed her most? Or was he failing her? Hopelessness overwhelmed her once again. She had just been learning how to be a wife when they were cast into this most desperate of situations. And now there was such a gulf between them that she didn't know how she could possibly cross it, or even if she should. What was right?
She yearned for someone to talk to. But in this she was so utterly alone. The Reverend Mother would know what to do, but Nonberg was now an ocean away in a country made unreachable to them by a war…
Maria's arm tightened about Marta. Even if she no longer knew how to be a wife in this chaotic and terrifying world, she would be a mother. Her eyes focused again on the bleak and grey landscape of their new home and felt new resolve grow in her chest. She would make this new home and this new life beautiful. She would find beauty here, even if in the smallest ways.
Georg watched the shoreline coming into view, his mind already several steps ahead. They had all remained healthy enough on the voyage that he was not concerned about clearing customs. They would need to find lodging right away, no easy task in such a crowded city. But New York somehow kept taking in the masses. There would be lodging if one knew where and how to look.
Not for the first time, he was profoundly relieved that he and the children spoke fluent English. That would give him the edge he needed to get his family taken care of and established.
But Maria ... he felt a twist in his gut when he thought about what he was going to be putting her through. She spoke no English, she had never lived anywhere but in the countryside. Maria would be utterly out of her element here.
He looked over at her, feeling a fresh wave of compassion and regret. So much of her life was already so new to her, how would she manage this new world? He looked over at her, bodies of their children between them. His breath caught in his chest for a moment. She was so lovely and he missed her so terribly. Friedrich and Kurt were very poor - and rather smelly - roommates, especially compared with the beautiful woman he had married.
Suddenly she looked up and locked eyes with him. He could feel the heat and desire rising in his body and saw the color rise in her own cheeks. But just as quickly she looked away, burying her face in Marta's head.
He felt a cold anger wash over him. He had had no other choice than to act as he had. First and foremost he had to keep his family safe, including Maria. As a result he was being treated like a villain by his own wife. He understood her dilemma and her pain more than she could possibly know, but she understand his?
It's not that he didn't want her to confess. He fully believed in God and the sacraments and felt the full weight of his unconfessed sin bearing down on his soul. He too was anxious to confess and repent these actions. But to have already done so would endanger all of their lives. He absolutely could not and would not allow it yet. If Maria wanted to be angry with him over it, if she wanted to put this gulf between them, so be it. Nothing would change his position on this.
But the truth was that he also felt ... hurt. He was doing everything to keep his family safe and needed his wife's support now more than ever. How could she not see that? How could she not trust him?
He looked again at New York as they drew closer. Right now he needed to focus on taking care of his family in this new country. After moving banks again there wasn't all that much money left. Everything was going to be different. In order to make this all work he was going to have to be as driven as he ever had been and could not afford to be mooning over his wife.
With a cry from the crowd the ship drew up to Ellis Island and the crew began the work of lowering the gangplank. He saw Maria flash one brief, frightened look at him. Unable to help himself, he gave her a small half smile in return. He watched as she looked back to the shore and squared her shoulder as if in some silent resolution of her own. The next chapter of their lives was about to start. He prayed it would ultimately be kinder than the last.