A/N: a quick update as promised. I think I better declare this story an M due to the nature of the barn scene in the last chapter and any more chapters to come. Apologies if it was a bit much for some people as I appreciate it got quite steamy! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next chapter.
Eggs, bacon, milk and fresh French bread was spread out on the large wooden table in front of Maria and she couldn't recall the last time she'd felt so utterly ravenous. Exhaustion and fear had rid her of her appetite over the last few days but now that the fresh smell of cooked fare was reaching her nostrils, she felt an all-consuming hunger like she'd never felt before. She knew their travels had left each member of the family very much worse for wear. Weeks of rationing and living mostly off bread and water, with the occasional meat or cheese if they were lucky, had taken its toll and Maria was growing increasingly worried for the children's well-being. The most recent venture out of Paris had not helped. Marta's normally vibrant face was more gaunt, Friedrich's high cheekbones had sunken, Brigitta's wrists looked suddenly so thin they might snap, and Maria had discovered for herself the way that Georg had also thinned. It hadn't escaped her notice, when she'd bathed him ever so gently, that while the expanse of muscle and smattering of hair across his chest still conveyed an essence of masculine strength that often left her breathless, his ribs were suddenly very much visible. It had alarmed her when she'd felt the ridges of bone under his skin while she'd soothed him, but she'd hastily shaken the worry from her mind - after all, her own ribs were protruding more than ever, the little body fat she'd possessed quickly shedding amidst the stresses of fleeing. They had far more pressing matters to tackle than the rationing of their food. At least they were not yet starving to death. All they had to do was make it to England.
"I don't think I've ever been so happy!" Kurt cried in sheer delight as Madam LeGrand served a portion of eggs onto his plate with a low chortle.
"This one has a healthy appetite, no?" She shared an amused chuckle with Georg, making sure that each child received a similar helping before passing around the bread.
Georg translated for the family, evoking a titter of amusement around the table as Kurt grinned sheepishly, his mouth already fit to bursting with the amount of eggs he'd hastily stuffed in it. Maria almost admonished him for neglecting to say grace, but she quickly let it slide - the poor boy hadn't seen scrambled eggs in weeks. Instead, she muttered a quick thanks to God under her breath.
Madam LeGrand finally took her seat at the end of the table next to her husband, and Georg noted with amusement that the room they were sat in was every bit a reflection of this charming couples' character. Both of them, in their modest farming attire, fitted perfectly into the backdrop of the cosy kitchen, with its low beamed ceilings and endearing clutter. Pots and pans hung low from above the large cooker, a kettle whistled noisily atop the hob, trinkets and old photographs adorned the walls and shelves, and a large dog lolled lazily in the corner, splayed across the floorboards in apparent disinterest.
"Eat up!" Madam LeGrand cried, gesturing enthusiastically at the food in front of them, "there isn't much, but I hope it will help."
Georg again translated, mostly for Maria's sake, though he knew Max and the little ones spoke barely any French either. The eldest however, spoke the language fairly fluently and could keep up with basic conversation.
"We can't thank you enough," Maria said with feeling, listening to Georg translate while she subtly transferred some of her eggs onto Friedrich's plate, fearful of the boy's worsening frailty. When she looked up however, it was to find Georg catching her in the act. He flashed her a hint of an affectionate smile but with a slight shake of his head. His message was clear - her selflessness was a thing of beauty but she needed her strength just as much as everybody else did.
"Think nothing of it my dear," Madam LeGrand replied with a wave of her hand, "I cannot possibly allow my husband to hold your family at gunpoint without at least inviting you for breakfast afterward!"
An intelligible grumble came from beyond the newspaper that Monsieur LeGrand had buried himself behind, and Georg found his fingers were twitching impatiently, itching to snatch the pages from the man's hands so that he could read the headlines that had caught his eye.
"I must say my dear," came Madam LeGrand's French intonations from somewhere in the vicinity as Georg zoned out, tilting his head subtly and squinting in an attempt to make the headlines of the paper more eligible from across the table. His French speech was far better than his reading ability and he was struggling to make out the words.
"I know it's not my place but you do look very well indeed to have mothered seven children!" Madam Legrand's voice continued in the background, "You don't look much older than your eldest!"
Georg was vaguely aware of Leisl stifling a giggle before translating for Maria and he was grateful to note, some minutes later, that the three women had fallen into easy conversation, flitting between French and German and conveniently leaving him free to attempt a subtle newspaper heist.
While the rest of the table was otherwise engaged either eating vigorously or nattering away, Georg squinted harder and leaned a few inches further across the table, discovering that he was able to make out a few words of the article jumping from the front pages.. War.. Government.. Paris.. Hitler.. Was Austria mentioned anywhere? Was there any reference to Calais and the dangers that might lay ahead for them there?
A contrite clearing of the throat suddenly silenced the entire room and tore Georg from his reverie. His head snapped up to find a less than amused LeGrand eyeing him incredulously over the top of his reading material, and he was suddenly aware that everyone else had stopped what they were doing to watch him in amusement. He gave a sheepish smile as it dawned on him that he'd unknowingly risen from his chair and bent halfway across the table to get a good look at the front page, clumsily knocking over a glass of milk in the process.
Gretl giggled mercilessly as the puddle of milk began to drip into LeGrand's lap, much to Georg's embarrassment. Maria watched in disbelief, attempting to stifle a laugh when she caught Leisl's eye - she couldn't ever recall seeing her captain blush before!
"I don't suppose," Olivier drawled with sarcasm, "that you would like to borrow my paper?"
"I'd be most grateful.." Georg winced as the milk continued its gradual descent onto the farmer's dungarees. The situation was only made worse by the giant dog suddenly snapping to attention, hurling himself underneath the table with an almighty clatter, and diving headfirst into LeGrand legs to bury his drooling chops in the tasty spillage.
"Clumsy buffoon!" The Frenchman exclaimed, thrusting the paper at Georg across the table.
Leisl snorted into her eggs.
"What did he say?" Maria asked the girl.
"He called father a -"
"Yes, thank you Leisl!" Georg interjected, embarrassed enough without his wife knowing he'd been chastised like a little boy. He wasn't used to being spoken to in such a manner, least of all by a farmer, but he let the comment slide, knowing he owed Monsieur LeGrand beyond measure for welcoming them into his home - albeit slightly reluctantly.
Hastily, he buried his reddening cheeks behind the paper, attempting to ignore Max's snicker, and busied himself with trying to decipher the headlines while conversation gradually resumed around the table. Much to his dismay, the minuscule print dictated that Calais had been raided by Luftwaffe bombers, causing disruption to military movements, confusion and traffic jams where thousands of refugees were attempting to make it to the port. It wasn't clear if the port was even in use or if they would be able to board a boat when they got there, but Georg was beginning to realise they had little choice but to try. Getting to the town on foot would take three days however, and there were no train stations for miles either. He knew, as his heart sunk, that his family would be forced to walk themselves to exhaustion yet again and the thought filled him with a sudden and all-consuming grief, an engulfing sense of hopelessness that caused him to slam the paper down against the table in anger.
The other occupants of the room startled and immediately fell silent, Maria's hand finding his automatically on the table top and giving it a comforting squeeze.
"It is what we feared?" She murmured quietly, knowing the chances of facing further difficulty in Calais were high. Georg confirmed her worries with a tight nod, his eyes downcast and jaw set in frustration, his body rigid. Maria's eyes flew to LeGrand who didn't look at all surprised by her husband's outburst. If anything he looked grave, regretful, almost sympathetic.
"Whatever's the matter?" Madam LeGrand interjected, eyeing Georg in concern, her countenance worrisome.
"There's trouble in Calais," her husband responded quietly on his guest's behalf, "and it's their easiest means of getting out of the country.."
Georg's eyes locked with the farmer's and he gave a grateful bow of his head in response to the man's evident empathy - he was relieved his host had saved him of the burden of an explanation, since words were currently evading him.
Max, who'd quickly snatched the paper and skimmed through the lines with some interpretative help from Friedrich, sunk lower in his chair in defeat, "You mean to say," he asked, "that we might walk all that way only to find a dead end?"
"Walk?!" Madam LeGrand cried so loudly that her dog startled under the table and banged its head on the wood with a whine.
"The nearest train station is Gare Du Nord which is around 45 miles from here, and even then the trains will only get them to Belgium," Olivier explained to his wife as Georg nodded solemnly.
"And that would mean we'd have to connect to Dunkirk, which is unthinkable," Georg muttered, knowing the town was swarming with imminent danger.
He met Maria's eyes then and muttered a quick translation so that she could follow the conversation, her hand still grasped in his as she ran a soothing thumb over his knuckles. He'd expected her eyes to glaze over with sadness, her shoulders to slump in dismay at his words - but much to his surprise his unpredictable little Fraulein merely sat up straighter in her chair, squared her shoulders and looked him directly in the eye with a fierce determination that made his breath catch.
"When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.." She whispered, her eyes burning.
Georg could only stare at her, speechless. Oh how fiercely he wanted to kiss her in those moments, propriety be damned! Her reply was so simplistic, so naive and yet so hopeful that it stirred the very earth beneath his feet. His skin prickled with longing for his wife, with adoration for the woman before him, and he knew, right in the depths of his very soul, that as long as he had her by his side there would always be hope, there would always be opportunity, there would always be light, there would always be an open window.
"Surely you can't possibly walk.." Madam LeGrand pierced the charged moment between them.
"We have very little choice," Georg replied calmly, bringing his wife's hand to his lips and kissing it quickly, desperately in want of her lips.
A long silence hung in the room before Monsieur LeGrand heaved a deep sigh of reluctance.
"You do have a choice," he retorted, as though his next few words were going to cause him a great deal of discomfort, "you can take our car.."
Before Georg had a chance to register the farmer's generous offer, Madam LeGrand hurled herself from her chair with a triumphant hurrah and threw her arms around her begrudging husband, beaming from ear to ear as she clung to him gleefully.
"Ohhh darling, I knew you had it in you," she cried, as her husband's ears turned pink, "you big softie!"
"Yes, yes alright," he huffed impatiently, a hint of a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
Maria grinned, the farmer's prickly demeanour with a hint of compassion underneath reminding her all too well of a stubborn sea captain she once knew.
Georg met her eye then with a playful smirk that suggested he knew exactly what she'd been reminiscing about.
"I think we've just found our open window," he grinned.
Georg stared in sheer bewilderment at the vehicle parked in front of him, if it could even be called that. The rusting hunk of metal, which he guessed once formed a relatively useful truck, looked as though one flick of the wrist would send it crumbling to the ground. The bumper hung lopsidedly from below the grill, the windscreen smeared with dirt, the storage compartment in the back sagging so low it looked as though the whole vehicle had given up.
"It's not much," LeGrand shrugged to the family crowded around the driveway, as Georg bit back a snort of derision, "we were going to send her to scrap in a few weeks time but the old girl's got a few more miles in her at least. She's all yours."
Georg was momentarily rooted to the spot, holding his breath as he waited for the vehicle to suddenly collapse into a heap on the ground.
"Merci beaucoup," Maria chirped emphatically when her husband said nothing, anxiously noting his apparent displeasure and elbowing him hard in the ribs.
"Yes, yes of course!" he blurted, chastising himself for being such a snob, "I can't possibly thank you enough, we owe you both our lives. I'm..." He eyed the car with reluctance, "Speechless.."
The farmer gave a satisfied nod and Georg clapped him on the back by way of thanks as Maria wrapped her arms around Madam LeGrand in gratitude, tears prickling at her eyes. She was entirely overwhelmed by the couple's kindness in a world that seemed so shrouded in darkness. Not only had they been fed and watered, but the modest farmer and his wife had also allowed each of member of the family to bathe and take apples from the orchard for their travels. LeGrand had even given Georg a miniature pen knife for safety with an uncharacteristic, fatherly pat on the shoulder. Maria felt like a new woman as a result of their generosity and it filled her with a newfound strength to overcome whatever it was they were yet to face.
Much to Georg's bafflement and sheer relief, the rickety old truck seemed to move like an ace along the country roads and they'd made it almost three quarters of the way to Calais before they'd hit the standstill traffic. Hours had ticked by in the unforgiving heat, the entire family lolling in the storage unit at the back of the vehicle just to escape the claustrophobia of the seats. The traffic barely moved an inch in the hours they sat under the blistering sun and when night had eventually fallen, they'd succumbed to sleeping under the stars.
It wasn't until morning that the traffic finally began to move and when they'd eventually reached Calais it was to find the town in wreck and ruin, British and French soldiers swarming the streets as though another attack was imminent.
Georg hadn't quite believed their luck when he'd discovered that the soldiers were letting refugees through the port, and he'd spent many more hours queuing, battling through crowds, and even coming to blows once or twice - no better than the rogues he'd once commanded on his U-boats - in his attempts to obtain ten tickets for the next available boat. He'd never considered himself an aggressive man, at least not physically, but he'd soon recalled that desperation and fear of attack led men to do uncharacteristic things. It had all been worth it however, when his children has breathed their very first sigh of relief in weeks when their little legs marched onto the ship that was to take them to their grandparents, genuine happiness adorning their youthful features.
"How are you feeling?" Georg asked his wife as he joined her at the bow of the ship some time after it had left port, leaning his elbows against the edge of the vessel and gazing out onto the water where the pink sunset had begun to kiss the horizon. It really was a sight to behold, and he was confronted with a sudden thrill and deep sense of belonging when his eyes fell on the great expanse of sea that reminded him so much of his times atop his submarine back in his youth as an adventure-hungry sailor. He watched the gentle laps of the waves as a lump formed in his throat, pulling his wife close by the waist.
"A bit better," she murmured, following his gaze out onto the ocean stretching out before them, Calais having disappeared from view some time ago, "I had no idea I suffered from sea sickness."
Georg chuckled, taking her hand in his, "it happens to the best of us."
"However did you do it?" She asked curiously, "spending all that time out at sea?"
Georg pondered over her question for a moment, his brow creased in concentration as his hair rippled gently in the breeze. There was more to her question than first appeared - he knew she was talking just as much of leaving his family behind as she was spending months underwater.
"I suppose the sea and the navy were my very own windows at times when I felt that God had closed a door," he replied, his eyes glazing with memories of adventures past, of another life, of friends made, of battles won, of wives lost, "It was my home away from home. It made me who I was, who I still am."
Maria paused, as though contemplating his words, before making another declaration so simplistic and beautiful that the earth seemed to shift on its axis.
"I'm sure she'd be so very proud of you, my darling," Maria whispered, the admission causing his heart to still in his ribs.
"Oh love," he choked, simply unable to form words, the admiration he felt for this selfless woman causing his meaningful replies to stick in his throat. Instead he simply gripped her hand tighter, swallowing past the tears of gratitude he felt forming behind his eyes.
A meaningful silence hung between them as they shared a kiss and gazed out onto their past reflected in the sheen of the water, apprehensively awaiting what was to become of their future, leaning on each other for the strength it would take to get them there.
Wordlessly, Georg pulled the pen knife LeGrand had given him from his pocket, rolling the possession between his fingers lazily.
"Would you care to do the honours, Baroness?" He grinned, holding the knife out to her with an adorable gleam in his eye, the dimples she so loved denting his cheeks.
"I'd be delighted, my Captain."
And with that, Maria mischievously leaned towards the wooden railing of the vessel that marked a new beginning in their lives, and scratched their initials into its smooth surface.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the update! again please do let me know if it's losing its spark as I want to make sure I'm keeping it interesting! it should be coming to a close in a few more chapters