Chapter 1

The days are bright with sunshine and filled with the sound of music: voices raised in song, music lessons and practices, Sunday afternoon concerts on the radio. There are other sounds as well, laughter and bickering, children thundering down the stairs on their way to breakfast, times-tables being recited, bedtime stories read out loud. The days are for homework, for games, for family meals and birthday celebrations. The days are for bicycling and swimming and canoeing in the lake and mountain hikes and picnics and then, as summer gives way to autumn and then winter, for bonfires, for snowmen and snowball fights, for ice skating followed by steaming mugs of hot cocoa.

Maria loves the days with the children, but she lives for the nights with him.

The shadowy nights have their own sounds, beginning and ending with the snick of her door closing behind him when he creeps into her bed just after midnight, and again when he slips away just before dawn. Of necessity, the nighttime sounds are restrained but no less exuberant: whispered demands, low groans, smothered giggles, muffled cries, the steady thump of his heart in her ear when she rests against him, afterward. The nights are for learning his scent, his taste, the texture of his skin, so different from hers. The nights are the shape of him and his weight on hers. Every single night they have spent together is a revelation about love and desire.

They cannot be together every night, but even so, Maria's life is so sweet and so rich that she cannot imagine anything better. It surprises her, how rarely thinks of the life she lived before that single day in August, when her world had turned inside out and upside down.

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Of course, it was Maria herself who had set events in motion that day, by confessing her love for a man, accepting without hesitation Reverend Mother's suggestion that that the convent might not be the life she was born to live after all. Within the matter of an hour or two, Maria had abandoned her life at Nonnberg Abbey, returning to the villa so giddy with hope that at first, she could not make sense of Brigitta's announcement:

"The most important thing is that Father has gotten married. To Baroness Schrader."

"Married?"

"They were married yesterday," Louisa said, "at City Hall. They told us at luncheon."

For a few agonizing hours afterward, Maria's world had seemed to teeter dangerously on its axis, until her Captain had found her in the gazebo and set things right again, anchoring her with his love, his calm and steady assurances, his integrity, and uprightness. She knows that not everyone would see it that way. They would see only shame, scandal, and sin if they knew the truth: Captain von Trapp might have made Elsa Schrader his bride and his baroness, but he has pledged his love to his governess, a disgraced former postulant from Nonnberg Abbey, and spends the nights in her bed.

Maria herself had resisted the inescapable truth at first, mustering every bit of dignified self-possession she could, parrying his inquiries about why she'd run away and why she'd returned. Surprising herself to hear the words, sharp as a knife on her tongue: "I'm sure the Baroness will make things fine for you." She could see that she had surprised him, too, from the hurt and bewilderment on his face and in his reply.

"But you left without saying goodbye, even to the children! If you had only given me a chance to-"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Captain."

He pursued her into the gazebo, stopping her in her tracks when he called her by name for the very first time.

"Maria!"

"Wh-what is it you want from me?" her voice wavered when she asked the question, even though she already knew she'd do whatever he asked.

"I have no right to ask it of you, but I want you to stay. I – I ask you to stay."

"For the children, no doubt."

"Not for the children. For me. With me."

"But how-"

"Shhh," he stopped her questions with a finger to her lips. "Just give me a week. That's all I ask. To make things right. Or as right as I can. Please. Please, Maria." And then his lips replaced his finger and there was nothing in the world but his mouth on hers. A mouth that might once have appeared cold and unfeeling but kissed her soft and hot and utterly breathless. By the time they separated, gasping for breath, everything Maria had ever wanted or believed had evaporated like the morning mist on the lake.

"Maria," he cleared his throat, "About Elsa."

"Your wife, you mean? I don't want to talk about her."

"You must understand that I thought you were gone for good. I thought perhaps that I had misread you, had frightened you away."

"Frightened?"

"I didn't know what to think. I'm not the sort of man to go lusting after his governesses, nor to develop feelings for a girl half my age. When you left us, I thought I deserved no better than a marriage of convenience, and Elsa-"

"I told you, I don't want to talk about her! You have no idea what she-"

"But I do, Maria. I know what happened the night of the party, how Elsa played you, why you ran away. Of course, Elsa waited until after we were married to own up to it, and as soon as she did, I sent her straight back to Vienna. Frankly, I was afraid of what I'd do if she remained. If I had known – but it's much too late for that. Look, Maria. Elsa stuck by me when I was at my lowest, and she doesn't really want much from me. Certainly not a real marriage, anyway. She'll happily stay in Vienna, where she belongs, and if I put in an appearance every month or so, she won't ask for more."

"You don't love her," Maria whispered. She already knew it to be a fact, not a question, but she was glad that he nodded his agreement, because this gave her the courage to ask the only question there was left to ask.

"You love me?"

She watched his handsome face, his jaw working to contain the emotion before he finally met her gaze.

"Always. Forever. And if I were a better man," he had squeezed his eyes shut against the next phrase, "I would let you go."

The fear of losing him and his children made her brave. "Oh, please don't do that! Please don't send me away!"

"You can find someone who could give you the life you deserve. Eventually, you will forget about me."

"I could never forget you," she choked, and she had thrown herself at him, wound her arms around his neck, and clung there until she felt him shudder in surrender, and knew that she was safely in his arms for good.

He was gone the next morning. Maria had done as he asked and waited for his return, imagining the bond between the two of them being woven into an invisible tether that grew stronger by the hour, even as she moved through the days with the children as though nothing had changed.

And when he returned, having settled things with the Baroness, their lives together began. Days of wool and cotton, nights of silk and satin. Days of bright sunlight, nights in the shadows lit only by the occasional spear of moonlight. But it didn't matter. You did not need to see the love between Maria and her Captain to know that it was real.

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Frau Schmidt seems positively relieved that Baroness Schrader has chosen to remain in Vienna, and the rest of the servants either don't notice what is happening between Maria and her Captain, or don't much care. But when Maria tries to make light of it with him, wondering aloud if such liaisons are so commonplace, they merit no comment, her Captain responds with an uncharacteristic flash of anger.

"Don't you ever say that again! This is not some kind of sordid liaison, Maria. I love you. Can you please try to remember that?"

Still, they take great pains with their behavior toward each other during the day, limiting their conversations to the children's lessons and overall well-being, with the occasional foray into topics of general interest like music or the weather. Each interaction is punctuated with just enough "yes, sir, Captains," and "if you please, Frauleins" to confirm the business-like nature of their relationship while avoiding undue attention. Even when they find themselves alone, and discussing the most mundane matters concerning the children, they maintain this façade, so that they don't have to worry about who might be listening. It has come to seem entirely natural, as though they are four different people, two separate and very different individuals living in the light, one couple that flourishes together in darkness.

Maria knows it has to be this way. After all, she probably has more to lose than he does were their truth to be revealed. Society will forgive a handsome naval hero his dalliance with a governess, but they will never tire of scorning a disgraced postulant. Still, she envies him his skill, how he moves through the day seemingly unaffected by her. His austere profile and clipped, polished speech are a constant reproach to her own feelings, which float dangerously near the surface. With all seven children in school, although she tries to be helpful to Frau Schmidt throughout the long day, there is not enough to occupy her thoughts, which he has simply and thoroughly conquered. Maria, feverish with longing, is certain everyone can see the throbbing ache of her, can catch the ripe scent of desire that seems to cling to her skin.

It surprises her to learn he struggles as well.

"How do you do it?" he murmurs. They lay, limbs tangled together, in the aftermath of their lovemaking. It is one of the rare nights when moonlight softens the darkness with shadows.

"How? You know perfectly well that you were the one who showed me-"

"Not that," he chuckled, "I mean the rest of the time. I watch you skipping about the house, all sparkle and sweetness, innocent as a rose. Little witch! You are so convincing that sometimes I begin to fear that the whole thing has been some kind of fever dream. It drives me mad, waiting until I can have you again. Take today. We were out there in the middle of a snowball fight, and you - your cheeks all rosy, your laughter like music, and that mouth! That mouth! It took everything I had not to-"

He leans in for a kiss, but she holds him off.

"Really? You thought about me that way during a snowball fight?"

"My thoughts of you never cease," there is the gleam of his smile in the shadows, but in the next moment, his handsome face goes dark, his eyes haunted.

"What? What is it?"

"I only wish that I could give you what you deserve. The small daily joys of a real marriage. Public acknowledgement of what you mean to me, to all of us. Sometimes I wonder if we've made a terrible mistake."

"This is not a mistake," Maria says fiercely.

"You have no idea what you have given up. I promise you, Maria, that someday, I will find a way for us." He pauses. "Do you mean to tell me that you never feel guilty about it? Because I was thinking, and wondering, you know - you don't go to church anymore."

"No." She shakes her head and now it is her turn to lean in for a kiss, to silence him.

The truth of it is that he fills her so completely, there is no room left for shame.

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Hello! I am returning to more frequent writing with this story, which borrows from something I wrote a long time ago called "With Your Whole Heart." I've always been fascinated by the scenario where G&E marry but G&M remain together. If I recall the reaction to that old story, a lot of people don't agree with me :-) But anyway, I started this new piece just to play with that scenario a little more. But let me know if you would like more chapters and perhaps a resolution? Don't own TSOM, I do this for love.