Both stayed silent for the longest time. For Georg, that was not too unusual. But he couldn't remember a time when he had seen Maria with the children when she had been still or quiet for any length of time. She was either moving or running, explaining something, singing or humming, answering a question or gently keeping the children in line. That observation made him offer the ride - since she wasn't running, he thought movement might nevertheless be the key to make her feel better.
She was still deep in thought, yet her tears had dried somewhat. She looked around her, toward the villa and finally at the Captain, who was concentrating on rowing the boat. "Thank you", she finally said in his direction, her voice shaky. "Whatever for?" he asked, genuinely confused by her words. "For so many things, but right now, for being here." "It's nothing", he said. "Yes, it is. Nobody has ever done anything like this for me."
Georg couldn't believe his ears. Opposite him sat a beautiful young woman, headstrong and opinionated perhaps, but also warm, caring, compassionate, gentle, and a host of other good things. Beautiful in every way. Surely, she had admirers, friends, relatives who cared for her. People who supported her, other than the sisters at Nonnberg Abbey.
Apparently, the questions were in his eyes, for Maria started talking. "I don't know why Gretl's questions hurt so badly today. They were so innocent, she was just her curious self and she asks questions all the time." The Captain had to grin at this, but his concern was still there. "It's not like today is a special day or the anniversary of their deaths", she continued, in a voice so soft that Georg had a hard time hearing her. The dots started to connect in his head. "Whose deaths?" he asked in a gentle voice.
She looked into his eyes and started quietly: "Both my parents died when I was Gretl's age. My mother had scarlet fever, and my father had a bad case of pneumonia the winter after she died." Tears started rolling down her cheeks when she stated the sad facts. At the mention of scarlet fever, the Captain gasped - exactly the disease that took his late wife from him.
"Do you have any siblings?" he asked. "No, I don't. My mother was pregnant when she caught the fever. She had no chance. My father was never the same after her death. I remember very little because I was only five years old at that time. But I do remember that we were a happy little family. We had enough money to live, and we had each other. My mother and my father were so happy together. And they let me know that they were very pleased to have me. They always called me their sunshine."
"My father was a carpenter, my mother was a seamstress. They both loved books and music. They read to me all the time, and my mother was always humming little tunes and singing, encouraging me to sing along with her. They had also started to teach me how to read." She paused, and took a deep breath. "They thought I was a smart girl. They often said they wanted me to learn as much as I can, to go to university, if possible. They both stressed that they never wanted me to be dependent on somebody else. If I found love, my mother said, she wanted me to be the happiest girl on earth. But she never wanted me to be an inferior housewife who would not have the means to provide for herself and any children I might have. Of course, I didn't understand it at that time, I just had fun learning my letters and putting words together."
"That was very progressive thinking on your parents side", the Captain said. It was fairly unusual for that time, when many people didn't send their daughters to school any longer than was absolutely necessary and then made them work to support their families or marry them off to some boy. "Yes, it was", she agreed. "And I honored their wishes, although they will never know", she said. She fell silent again, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.
After a while, Georg had reached one of the many tiny islands in the lake. After a particularly strong pull on the oars, he had half of the boat on the sandy surface. He hopped out and offered Maria a strong hand. "Thank you", she said, when her small hand was engulfed in his much larger, delightfully warm hand.
He looked around himself, and finally took off his jacket and spread it on the ground. "That's as good as it will get", he said, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. Maria looked at the jacket and then at him. "More than enough", she said as she lowered herself on the makeshift blanket. "I was always a tomboy, I never had the luxury of plenty or fine clothes. I would usually have dresses made of sturdy material that would not tear easily. So this is more than fine with me."
"And yet you know how to make clothes for yourself, to find patterns that flatter your figure and colors that suit you well", he observed. Maria looked at him, genuinely surprised. "I didn't think you'd notice", she said. "Oh, I do notice, Maria, I notice the soft colors you are wearing and the stunning figure underneath", he thought, but kept silent. He just smiled at the young woman. The lights from the villa cast a soft light, just enough that they could see each other.
"If you don't mind my asking – what happened to you after your parent's deaths?" Her blue eyes looked at him intently. She was pondering how much of her miserable childhood to actually tell him. He was, after all, a stranger. A man who she didn't really know, who was rich and famous, who had brought a Baroness to this villa whom he apparently intended to marry. On the other hand, that was probably what made it so attractive to talk to him and share all the burdens of her young life. She would never get really close to him. It was just not in the cards for her.
Maria sighed deeply. She had never spoken to anyone about her past, not even to the Reverend Mother. Whenever she was asked about her childhood years, she would only say as much as necessary. But here, with Captain von Trapp, she felt save. She finally felt like she had finally arrived somewhere and was accepted for who she was. So after taking a deep breath, she began.
"After my father passed away, I was brought to the orphanage at Nonnberg Abbey. It was only a few days before my sixth birthday, and we had no relatives living around here. I knew that my mother's parents had passed away before I was born, and my father's father never returned from the Great War. His mother had been involved in a carriage accident and was trampled to death by a horse a few years later."
„So it appeared I didn't have any living relatives close by. That's why they put me in the orphanage. I was apparently a very quiet child and they didn't really know what to do with me. However, they were very surprised that I could read and I could sing tunes right on pitch. So they put me into the school even though I was actually too young to attend primary school at that time. I was just one of many girls and nobody really cared especially for me. The nuns had their hands full with all the orphans after the Great War. They did as much as they could and they cared as well if they could for us."
"As far as I remember, life was bearable at the Abbey. I succeeded in my studies and I sang all the time, not necessarily to the amusement of the nuns. However, they never really stopped my singing. After about a year, when I felt fairly secure at the Abbey, a relative suddenly showed up. An uncle I had never heard of. He was my mother's half brother. She hardly ever had contact with him and the two didn't care for each other much. But there he was, a blood relative. He was ordering me to come with him. I couldn't do very much about that being only seven years old at the time. And the nuns didn't have much choice. He was related to me, and they were happy about every mouth that they didn't have to feed."
Maria took another deep breath, pausing in the recollection of her story. Georg suddenly had a feeling that her story was getting much worse and reached for her hand that was busy pulling weeds from the ground. He took the cold hand in his warm one and stroked his thumb across her knuckles. "You don't have to continue if it is too painful for you", he said, looking at her tenderly. He wanted to pull her into the safe circle of his arms, to comfort her. But for now he kept stroking her hand.
Maria shook her head, feeling secure enough to continue. "He brought me to an old farmhouse somewhere up in the mountains. There was an unkempt woman there who said she was my aunt. Later, I found out that they were not married and lived together in sin, as the nuns would say. Both of them didn't look like they had any money to spare, and the place was everything but well maintained. They put me into a little chamber that only had a small window, a bed and a chair. And that was that. That was where I lived for the next decade. He told me what I was expected to do, which was a lot of heavy work for a small child. And from the very beginning, he told me that he would not tolerate any questions from me. I was to go to school, but only for the lessons. And then I was to return to the farm without idling."
"I was so scared by this rude, strange man that I think I never once opened my mouth. I didn't take much time before I found out that they both were heavy drinkers and wouldn't often be able to care for the animals or the garden. Thus we hardly had any food or money. The farm was high up in the mountains, it was cold up there for most of the year so I couldn't really grow many vegetables or berries. And I didn't have any money to spend on food when I was at school. It took me almost an hour to get to the schoolhouse every morning in every weather, and even longer to get back up on the mountain."
"One day, when I was nine years old, I met one of the sisters that had cared for me at the orphanage on my way from school. She looked at my haggard appearance and asked me when I had last eaten a warm meal. I couldn't remember. And I told her that. From that day on, I went to the Abbey for lunch every day and they would give me some food to take home with me, making sure I got my nutrients and vitamins. 'You are growing up, and you walk so much every day', the Reverend Mother said to me, fully supporting the nun's decision to feed me at the Abbey. I told my uncle that we had extra time when we would do our homework, and he seemed to believe me."
"You see, the nuns couldn't do anything about my situation. They had no right to take me away from a relative. But for me, the hour I spent at the Abbey every day was the only time I was at least a little relaxed. When I got a little older, a nun took me aside and told me to lock my door when I was in my room at night. I didn't understand what she meant for the longest time, but did it anyway."
"So I got up at around 4:30 every morning to milk the cows and tend to the chickens, prepare some eggs and do other chores. At around 6 a.m. I had to leave for school. Nobody ever cared whether I actually went or not, whether I was up on time. But I always remembered what my parents had told me, to be good at school and learn everything I could. And I had a teacher at school who knew about my situation. I think she was related to one of the nuns at the orphanage. She would mentor me whenever she could, and she would talk to me about opportunities I had with the grades that I had."
"The only problem was: before I turned 18, I had to have signatures from my legal guardian for everything I did outside of school. I knew I would never get that, for anything. But this teacher was sneaky – and she was well connected." Maria had to grin, remembering the no-nonsense woman who wasn't liked too much by her classmates, but who was a blessing for her. "I decided I wanted to become a teacher. Learning had always been easy for me, and I had a passion for it. And I knew that I was good at explaining things to the other students, I even earned a little bit of money tutoring the younger kids when I was in the higher grades. So this teacher, Frau Meier, contacted a woman who went to university with her and was now the dean of the education department at the University of Vienna."
"Those two agreed that I should do as much of the work as I could without actually attending the lectures in Vienna. But since Frau Meier had studied the exact same thing, she could teach me. Other than that, I had a lot of reading to do. And I would write all the exams and papers under her watchful eye – but we would only send everything to Vienna once I turned 18 and could sign my own things."
Georg's eyes got bigger and bigger as he listened to Maria. He couldn't even imagine what that life was like, as he had been born into the lap of luxury and always had parents that nurtured his curiosity and could afford the best schools for their children. "So, what happened?" he asked. "I turned 18 on January 26. I seemingly graduated high school that summer, but had actually graduated a year earlier since the nuns had put me to school a year early. That last "school" year, I still went to school every day, but instead of doing the school work, they let me use an unused room to learn, do research and prepare for my exams for university. So in the summer after I came of age, Frau Meier and I filed all my paperwork and all the work I had done was sent to her colleague in Vienna. I graduated with the highest honors, my thesis being among the top three of the year. After that, I became a postulant at Nonnberg."
The decorated Captain was speechless. That was one tough girl who was sitting here besides him on the tiny island in his lake. "Why have I never known that?" he inquired. "You never asked", she simply said. And that was true, he had to admit. He thought nuns only had a religious education. He never thought about the training or education they had before they committed their lives to God. And he never thought the Reverend Mother would send a postulant to his villa, but a nun with a no-nonsense attitude.
"You must have been really proud to have achieved all that at such a young age", he said. "I was", she said, tearing up again. With a broken voice, she added: "But I would have been so much prouder if I could have shared my joy and pride with my parents. They never knew what their only daughter has achieved, against all odds." That was that for Georg – he finally gave her hand a tug and pulled her into his arms, trying to give her all the warmth and comfort she had never felt since she was a little girl. He let her cry into his shirt, for all that she had lost. For a childhood that was non-existent.
After a while he said into the night air: "I want to ask you something, but you don't have to answer if you'd rather not, ok?" He felt her nod against his chest. "How was life at the farm? How did your uncle treat you?" She shuddered and stiffened in his arms, but he kept holding her and stroking her back.
"It was horrible", she finally whispered, her voice not strong enough to elaborate. Being in his arms calmed her down gradually. She took a few deep breaths and started on her other story, the one she has never spoken of and would rather forget. "I had to work from the moment I came to live on the farm. The older I became, the more work he gave me. Basically, I had to keep everything alive, to prepare the meals, to clean the house." Georg felt rage boiling within him, rage for a man who he didn't even know, but who had exploited a young child. "What did he do then? And that 'aunt' you were talking about?" he asked.
"He was drunk most of the time. Sometimes, he had an odd job in town, but very often he did not. He made his own booze somewhere in a small shack and he would drink all the time. He was cold and hostile to begin with, but when he was still conscious on his drinking binges, he became violent as well." Georg took a deep breath, along with the young woman he still held tightly in his arms. "Oh Maria. What did he do to you?" Maria leaned back and looked him straight in the eye: "He beat me every chance he got, with everything he could grab. But luckily my reflexes have always been very quick, while his became worse as the amount of alcohol he consumed got bigger. I was a shy and quiet child when I got there, but you can imagine that I didn't stay like that for too long. I might have been dead otherwise."
Again, Georg pulled her in his arms, but she had no tears left. She continued: "The Reverend Mother suspected that he was violent, but she could do nothing until I turned 18. So she and the nuns always kept an eye on me. The lunch they provided was also a means of seeing me every day and making sure that I was alright. They also provided some clothes for this constantly growing girl." Georg had to grin at that and think of the tall child with more clothes that other poor didn't want. She was poor herself, and she had the worst start into her young life.
And still, not only did she survive, but she had a degree and a ton of talents to go with it. He looked into Maria's eyes intensely: "He beat you. Nothing else?" Maria looked at him, understanding immediately what he was asking. "No. Nothing else. I actually listened to the nun who told me to lock my door every night." Georg nodded, too overwhelmed by her story to actually say anything.
"I think that also clarifies why I became a postulant after coming of age. The nuns had helped me so much, and I really had nowhere to go. I liked most of them, and a bunch of women seemed to be much more agreeable than a horrible drunk man. Also, my faith was what carried me through these awful years on that mountain, so I though I had all the requirements I needed to be a nun. I wanted to become a teacher in one of the schools that are led by the sisters." Georg looked at her and nodded: "Sounds like a good plan to me."
Maria chuckled at his comment. "Yes, well. I was the misfit from the very beginning. I was so happy to be out of my uncle's claws that I just couldn't stay inside these huge dark walls all the time. I was quite talkative, having never had anybody to talk to in my life. I sang, not only the chorals and madrigals required in church, but whatever came to my mind. The Reverend Mother was always so patient with me and I believe she knew that I was not made for this cloistered life. But she was like a real mother to me, so she would never throw me out of the Abbey. But she tried to make me see some of the world. So I think that's why she send me to be your governess for the summer."
xxx schnipp xxx
Alright, here we go again. TSOM does not belong to me. But I do appreciate comments, good or bad.