Chapter Eighteen

The finally arrived about an hour later, "Baroness, I must insist, you must take care of yourself and the child."

"My husband needs me, Dr. Kretzer," Maria said firmly. "He's running a high fever and his chest is so full. I fried up some onions to make a poultice, but it only worked for a short while before he was congested again."

"Unfortunately, that is his cross to bear," Dr. Kretzer explained. "Whenever any of the children get something respiratory and he catches it the illness nearly always settles in his chest, thankfully he has healthy children."

"What are you saying?" Maria pressed. "Is Georg in real danger?"

"I've heard his lungs sound worse," the doctor replied. "It's his temperature that's the most concerning. I can give him medication for both, but he's going to have a rough couple of days. We need to get his temperature below 102, the fever is the real problem."

"Tell me what I need to do," Maria said resolutely. She would not see Georg in any other condition but fully recovered. Not after all they had already gone through together, not with so much for them still to experience.

"You're doing it," Dr. Kretzer replied. "But Georg will be upset that you didn't protect yourself and the child."

"Doctor," Maria sighed. "This will sound terrible, and it feels that way too, but only five people know the true origin of this child, so forgive me if I am prioritizing my husband and the father of our children already born above this one at the moment."

"I have heard that from women in your place before, Baroness," Dr. Kretzer admitted. "Rest when you can, drink as much as you can tolerate, and keep taking the medications I left for you. Help him sit up when he's awake, encourage as much water and tea as he can manage. To stop it from spreading back to the children, they must not come near either of you and you must see that the maids boil out everything either of you touch, do you understand?"

Maria nodded, "I'll be careful. I know if I fell sick or anything happened to the baby, Georg would never forgive me or himself."

When the doctor left, Maria sat on the edge of the bed and began to apply the peppermint oil the doctor left to break up the congestion in Georg's chest.

He fussed at the burn of it and shivered as the menthol conflicted with his soaring body temperature. Maria held him against her and sang softly to get him to calm down.

There were no moments of lucidity. Whenever Georg was seemingly conscious, he was rambling on about things that didn't make much sense. Maria did her best to ground him when that happened, holding his head against her breast.

During one particularly bad hallucination, Georg's blue orbs fixed on Maria's, his eyes dilated and hazed but so intense. "I love you," he croaked out before reaching up to cup her cheek.

"Ssh," Maria soothed. "Please, please rest. Please." Maria moved her hand to cover Georg's against her cheek. "I'm here, I'm here…"

How many times had he whispered those words to her? How many times did he hold her in the dark and protect her from her own mind's assault? So many…many more than she had him.

"You're my angel," Georg whispered. "So beautiful, so soft…" His hand worked it's way out from underneath hers and slid down the cheek to her chin. "Your lips are like roses…"

Georg moved his mouth closer to hers. They had kissed before, pecks on the lips to say goodnight or good morning, but he never tried, and she never allowed it to be more. This time though, the man in her arms was not her husband, he was a sailor in the depths of war.

His lips touched her urgently, his tongue demanded entry into the depths of her mouth. Maria raised her hands to push him away, but instead found that she held him to her wanting to give him all the comfort she could. His kiss wasn't scary, and it wasn't disgusting. It was as sweet and gentle as it was rough. She sighed into his mouth before he broke away suddenly and fell back onto the pillows with a raspy cough.

Georg's brief moment of subconsciousness was gone and he lay still now except the labored up and down motion of his chest.

Maria left her hand over his heart, it was beating so fast. It was due to the fever, she knew that, but the virus was as stubborn as her husband and would just not abate. Gently, Maria ran her hand over Georg's chest resting it on his racing heart as if her ministrations could slow down it's thready beat. It was now or never for this fever, Georg would either beat it or it would claim him.

The fear of losing Georg and all he brought with him, the feelings of being loved, protected, valued was more terrifying than the fear of observing a naked male body. Maria took a deep breath and propped Georg against the pillows. She quickly stripped the top sheets and blankets off of him, then removed the pajamas bottoms and socks on his feet. Hurriedly, she went to their bathroom and drenched the sheets in cool water. She would never be able to manage to put him in the bath, she had to bring the bath to him.

Georg hissed when the cool sheets hit his body. Once a similarity cool cloth was placed on his brown and over the nape of his neck, Maria took him in her arms once again to soothe him.

The children were beside themselves. They had just had the opportunity to completely reunite with their parents when their father fell ill. Liesl and Friedrich could remember a few times their father had been sick over the years, but only from a distance.

"I'm so worried about Father and Mother," Liesl confessed to Max that same evening. "If she gets sick too and something happens Father will go mad."

"Nothing's going to happen," Max assured her. "Maria is strong now, she's over the sickness and she's gotten a clean bill of health from the doctor. It was only to appease your Father she quarantined with the boys, she fought like a lioness to be allowed to help."

"I know she did," Liesl replied. "I heard her, but she gave in to Father and now he's sick too. Is he bad?"

"He's not good," Max replied, choosing his words carefully. "But he'll mend. He's strong too, stubborn and he has a lot of time to make up for."

Liesl nodded and looked down at hands. "Uncle Max, I…" She backed off, she didn't want to make Max angry with her when he was the only adult she felt she could even talk to about this.

"What, Dear One?" Max asked. 'You can ask me anything."

Liesl nodded again, "I don't believe it, Uncle Max. About Fraulein Maria, I mean Mother and Father. I don't see how they could ever have done such a thing, not when Mother wished to be a nun until such a short time ago. Not when the Church would forbid it. They had to be married in private, and I don't believe it."

Max sighed. It was not his place to tell Liesl the truth. Maria would be so distressed, and Georg would skin him alive and toss him out of his house, probably out of his life if he betrayed their trust. "That is something you really do need to speak with your parents about," Max said toying with is moustache. "Just remember for now that no one is perfect, that people are people and they make mistakes. Your father is many things, Liesl, but he doesn't judge anyone until he has all the facts. Let me hope that along with his eyes you've inherited his wisdom."

"Thank you, Uncle Max," Liesl replied. "And thank you for taking good care of us too. I hope soon Father is well and we can all sing and eat and read together again. It's so nice to do."

Max agreed, it was nice to see his best friend and his family, his entire family, Maria included, happy. Maria seemed to be as happy as she possibly could be given her circumstances, she was already a fabulous mother, and Max could tell she was a good match, a good wife for Georg. He knew, even with the doctor's concern for Georg's high fever, that his friend would fare well with his wife's tender ministrations.

When Georg awoke, he felt sticky. The sun was just beginning to shine through the drapes as he opened his burning eyes and looked around. He felt the light sheets, now dried but still rough from the water Maria had drenched it in over his body. One of his arms was pinned down and felt numb, and his body ached desperately.

As he took inventory of his situation his eyes fell on Maria He was lying half on the bed and half across her body with his one arm trapped between her and the mattress. If he moved, he would more than likely wake her and there was no telling how long she had been tending to him.

Tending to him! Dear God, he'd been sick, he was sick and Maria was…

In earnest, Georg reached out to caress Maria's cheek. He had to feel if she was fevered; if he had gotten her sick. Thankfully, the skin there felt cool and smooth, like satin under his roughened palm. He held himself still for a moment, relishing in his ability to look at her in sleep, features relaxed, so angelically beautiful.

Georg realized next, as his wife began to stir, he was naked underneath the sheet. Maria must have stripped him down in the night, the last time he remembered anything had been when she had gone to sleep on the couch, their compromise for staying in the room while he was feeling the flu coming on him. He'd been dressed then, acceptably so at least, but now…He thanked God his body was wiped from the fever and his masculine urges occurring much more slowly than normal, but still, he felt himself stirring. If Maria noticed, no, he couldn't let her see, they had come too far.

It was sheer force of will that helped Georg subdue his sexual urges when he was near his wife, but he knew that when and if they ever made love it would have to be on her terms with her express permission. He mentally flogged himself, "You've been sick, you still can't breathe through your nose and you're thinking crazy things…stop it, Captain!" he commanded himself as he felt Maria stir again, this time opening her eyes and looking at him.

"Georg!" she pushed herself up just a bit to free his arm and immediately reached out to touch his face. It was clammy and sticky, not unlike the rest of the room, but it was cool.

"Thank God, your fever's broken," Maria gasped. "Oh, thank God."

Caught up in the moment of joy at Georg's turn for the better and the bright blueness of his eyes, Maria leaned forward, letting her instinct rule her instead of her fear. She touched her lips to Georg's, pressing lightly with her bottom lip just enough their tongues touched. It was by a mile the most intimate kiss they had shared and as much as he'd like to, Georg would not let himself press it further. He chuckled a bit at Maria's reaction "Good morning, Baroness."

With an infinitely gentle touch, Georg caressed Maria's cheek. "Are you all right? You look beautiful, like an angel, but do you feel alright?"

"I feel wonderful," Maria replied. "Georg, you were so ill,I was terrified. You're still wheezing. Let me get you some more medication so you don't get another fever."

Maria moved to get up from their bed and begin to administer the remedies once again but Georg stopped her when he gently pulled on her hand. "No," he replied softly. "Not yet, just…just lay with me. Just lay here with me for now just for now."

Georg rolled onto his back and pulled Maria close to him. She let him drape his arms around her and gently began to rub is chest up and down. "Are you sore?"

"No," Georg replied. "No, I'm just tired. I'm just really tired."

"You're dehydrated, you need to drink some water and rest again," Maria replied but she didn't move.

"What I need," Georg whispered. "Is to hold my wife in my arms so we both can get more sleep. Then, I promise I'll drink enough water to float around the room on the air, okay?"

Maria gave in and settled back down, only the thin sheet and her nightgown between her body and her husband's. Georg shut his eyes again and let himself relax. One of his hands caressed her arm in lazy circles, while the other slid over and rested on the smallish bump of her pregnancy. Georg did that sometimes in the night when he was asleep, did he wish the baby inside of her was his as she did? Sometimes, Maria though that he convinced himself the child was his as they were trying to convince the world. She closed her heavy eyes and inhaled the mixture of menthol and perspiration that was presently her husband's scent, oh how she wished that were so.