Chapter Two
He does not come to her every night. There are nights when one of the children needs her. And, of course, there are the two nights every month that the Captain is away in Vienna. He has been completely honest about it with Maria: he has agreed to accompany Baroness Schrader into Vienna's social whirl just often enough to weaken, if not dispel, any rumors about the nature of their marriage. Although the Baroness has apparently settled for this arrangement, Maria wonders if she doesn't secretly hope for more. But it doesn't matter: there is no healing the rift between the Captain and his bride, for he has not forgotten the role she played the night of her grand and glorious party.
That he is so transparent and matter of fact about the situation reassures Maria: there are no secrets between them. And the truth is that she needs the respite of an occasional solitary night, like a diver gulping for air when he rises from the deep and breaks the surface. But her Captain is always in her thoughts. When they are apart, she likes to relive their nights together, each one a unique and precious bead on an endless string of memories. Starting with the night when, having settled matters with Baroness Schrader, he returned from Vienna ready to begin their new life, together.
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That first night, he had come to her room after midnight, intending only to talk, to be sure that she understood the harsh reality: the Baroness would remain his wife and the stepmother of his children, and the love between the Captain and his governess would remain a closely guarded secret. He spoke of taking things slowly, of how they would have to be patient, that their time would come.
But Maria wasn't having it. She felt curious and brave and eager for more of what his kisses had revealed to her. Having cut her ties with her old life, she felt a desperate yearning to be close to him. And it was thrilling, how readily he gave into her, at least at first. But after a hectic quarter-hour or so, he took hold of her shoulders and held her away from him, struggling to catch his breath.
"No. Maria. Not now. Not here, not like this. You have no idea. A girl's first time-"
By then, Maria had already learned two things. One, that he was strong enough to hurt her. Two, that he never would. In fact, he would deny her nothing.
"You are the one who asked me to stay, and now you refuse me?"
"Brave girl." There was something vaguely unsettling about his smile. "All right. I have a small cabin, up in the mountains. I'll take you there next week, I promise."
"Not next week. Tomorrow," she demanded, her cheeks flushing hot with desire and shame and pride in her newly discovered power over him.
"The day after tomorrow, then," he said reasonably. "I'll need to invent a business errand that will take me away for a few days."
"A few days?"
"That's what's called for, yes." And now his smile was positively menacing. "You understand, it would arouse suspicion for this to become a regular routine. But just this once. You'll have to invent an excuse as well. Perhaps you can say you are going to visit Nonnb –
"No, no," she said hastily. "I'll just invent an elderly aunt who is not well."
Three days in that remote mountain cabin had changed everything – not only Maria herself, who felt transformed, caterpillar into butterfly – but also the world around her, which somehow seemed brighter, sharper, saturated with sensation. He had been patient and gentle and had taught her, first of all, to claim her own pleasure, before he showed her how to please him in return. Only then did she begin to understand the danger that lay behind that smile.
"If it is ever too much for you, all you need do is tell me to stop," he reassured her. But she had never wanted him to stop, or even slow down. Not even once.
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As winter turns to spring, the first tentative signs of life emerge: green shoots poking their heads above ground, pink blossoms dusting the trees. But the hopeful energy is overshadowed by news that the Anschluss is imminent. They do their best to shield the children, but as their classrooms become infested with hatred, he asks Maria to resume teaching them at home. And she is happy to do so, as a way to fill the days that are empty spaces between the nights she longs for. Night after night, they seek their release from their fears of the future in blinding pleasure.
In early May, he leaves for Vienna as usual, but this time he does not return after two days and sends no word of explanation even after the third day and then the fourth. By the fifth day, the household's orderly routines begin to crumble, as the servants remain huddled around the kitchen radio, waiting for the expected announcement of the Anschluss. Maria reassures the children that their father has been delayed by business – something dull, surely, having to do with banking or machinery, even as the older ones regard her with skepticism, and she feels her spirits sinking.
By the sixth day, there is still no word from him, and reports on the radio grow more grim by the hour. Maria attempts to shield the children from the news until their father returns. For surely, he will return soon, won't he? A drenching late-spring rain chills the air and strips the trees bare, leaving the formerly festive blossoms lying in defeated, muddy heaps. The skies overhead are gray and hopeless. Between the news and the weather, they are virtual prisoners in the schoolroom. The mood is so subdued that no one even suggests thinking of their favorite things.
Late in the afternoon, she flees the schoolroom for the library, ostensibly to search for new reading material for Brigitta, but in truth because she is desperate for any form of contact with him or his presence that she can get. And there in the library is Franz, bent over the Captain's desk, appearing not the least embarrassed by having been discovered rifling through its contents.
"Franz? What are you doing there?"
"It was on the radio just now. The Anschluss has taken place at last. You might as well know, Fraulein Maria," he says coolly. "I am a member of the party and have been for some time. I will be leaving the Captain's service in just a few hours."
Now Maria notices the flutter of yellow paper dangling from his fingertips.
"What's that you've got there?"
"A telegram," comes the crisp reply. "Requesting that Captain von Trapp report to Bremerhaven, to begin his service with the German Navy. But there is no need for concern, Fraulein Maria. I have already replied to Berlin on his behalf, and advised them of his whereabouts in Vienna. He'll respond quickly if he knows what's good for him."
"I was under the impression that the contents of telegrams are private!" she snaps, but Franz only flourishes a "Heil Hitler!" and stalks from the library, leaving her to collapse in the big leather chair behind the desk, a poor substitute for her Captain's arms.
Had they ever discussed what would happen when Anschluss came? They ought to have, but they had been too wrapped up in each other. Had the Captain anticipated this possibility? He was not the sort of man to leave their future to chance. For him to refuse the Nazis would be fatal for all of them. But joining them was simply unthinkable! Now her mind is racing, trying to put together the pieces – his prolonged, silent absence, the telegram – into a reassuring narrative. But the pieces refuse to fit.
In his absence, her natural optimism fades away, and fear begins to leak into the space he left behind. Maria finds herself wishing, for the first time in months, that she could pray for his safe return. But of course, she cannot. That door is closed to her.
She stumbles through the rest of the day. It is no easy feat to get the children, restless for their father, settled for the night, but at last, she retreats to her room. She is only there for a minute or two when there is a soft knock at her door. There is a momentary surge of relief before she realizes that it won't be him: he would never come to her so early, and he certainly wouldn't knock first.
"Frau Schmidt?" Maria has never seen the older woman in such a state, wrapped in a faded dressing gown, gray hair unbound in a halo, eyes red-rimmed.
"Fraulein Maria. I'm sorry to interrupt so late, but about the Captain-"
"Have you news of him? Where is he? Is he safe?"
"Safe?" The older woman looks queerly at her. "He's in Vienna with the Baroness, of course. I spoke to him myself just now."
"Is he on the telephone then?" Maria is already moving toward the hallway, a recklessly eager gesture she knows she ought to avoid.
"No, he's already rung off, Fraulein. He had only a few minutes for business with me. About his plans."
So, he had not asked to speak with her. That would be part of the ruse, of course, their studied ignorance of each other.
"What plans?" She fights to keep her voice steady.
"He will not return for another week. He instructed me to close up the house in the meantime, and to send the staff away." A tear escapes down her wrinkled cheek. "And then I am to go to my sister's. For the duration, the Captain said. At this very moment, he is making arrangements for the children and the Baroness before he reports to Bremerhaven."
Bremerhaven? Maria knows this cannot possibly be true, but she doesn't know what to believe instead.
"Arrangements? What kind of arrangements?"
"I shouldn't really say, but I suspect," the old woman looked around nervously before dropping her voice to a whisper. "I happen to know that the Captain has retained his Italian citizenship, which of course extends to his family. I've thought for some time that he would send them there, in fact, I'm certain of it. Oh, and he wanted me to tell you-"
The night holds its breath.
"He wants you to prepare the children. Not to say anything to worry them. Just get them ready. Once he sends the family away, then – well, like I said to the Captain, at least you'll be safe back at Nonnberg. And of course, he was in complete agreement. He made a particular point of saying that he'll rest easier knowing you are out of harm's way there."
Maria hears herself speak soothing words to Frau Schmidt, tells her to try and rest, and then she is alone with the cold and certain knowledge of exactly how the pieces fit together. Certainly, Captain von Trapp will not report to Bremerhaven. Instead, he is taking his wife and children to Italy, and the extra time in Vienna undoubtedly has been required to accustom his wife to the idea. His wife, and the stepmother to his children. Maria knows nothing of passports or visas, but she knows enough to know that without such things, she is going to be left behind, and the life she shared with her Captain has come to an end.
She imagines the sturdy bond that tethers them beginning to fray. An old reflex kicks in, that feeling she had the night of the party, the overwhelming urge to flee, borne of shame and embarrassment. But no. No. Not this time. She is not ashamed of her love for the Captain, nor of the passion they had shared, born of that love. Maria has no regrets: she had chosen her life with him, despite its impermanence. If she is running from anything, it is the idea of hearing him bid her farewell. That, she will not be able to bear.
She finds herself dragging the carpetbag from beneath her bed, mindlessly stuffing it with clothing, the task made harder seen through tear-blurred eyes and shaking hands. She does not even care how or where or why she will go on. Certainly, she won't be able to go back to Nonnberg again, not anymore. Not after everything that's happened.
She knows that her departure will break the children's hearts. But at least this time, she will be able to wait until morning, to say goodbye to them properly before catching the bus. Wherever she is going, she will be miles from here before the Captain arrives home. She lugs her packed bag to the door. Then, for the last time ever in this house, she brushes her teeth, washes her face, changes into her nightgown, and douses the lights, a routine that had formerly filled her with anticipation that he might come to her, but was now a cruel reminder of the last empty night that lay ahead.
Rain batters the windows. The darkness beyond them is so dense it seems like a solid thing, the night sky invisible. Maria crawls into bed and stares up at the ceiling, her mind wandering from one memory to the next, wondering if she will ever be able to forget, and if she will ever want to. Her first night at the villa was stormy, too. That night, the children had sought her out, but tonight, her last night, she remains alone. She tries not to think about the many nights her Captain lay sleeping peacefully beside her, but the remembered low rumble of his breath is like torture.
How many nights had they lain together? She had let herself believe that the beaded string of memories would be endless, and now that it has been abruptly severed, she finds herself straining to recall what it had been like, the very last time they made love. If only she had known, she would have taken care to mark the details in her memory. As it is, she will not even see his face again.
The empty space by her side is a cold, dark cavern. Is thinking of her? Is he safe? If only he is safe, she will be able to bear the rest of it. Overcome by instinct, Maria closes her eyes and whispers a single word of prayer:
"Please."
Only then is she able to drift off, to be awakened sometime later by a sound she cannot let herself believe: the soft snick of the door opening and closing.
Maria feigns sleep, delaying the inevitable. She can smell the damp coming off him, so she knows he is standing nearby, watching her. Likely he is carefully weighing the words that he will need to explain the situation to her, to say goodbye for good. But she has never been the patient sort. After what is probably a minute of silence but feels like an hour, she lets her eyes fly open and addresses the dark shape of him, standing at the foot of her bed.
"Was there something you wanted?"
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Wow, thank you for such wonderful reviews and for all of your support! I am in awe of everyone's vision, insightfulness and ingenuity when it comes to ideas for this story: what happens next with Elsa? Max? High society? What do the children think? Someone even saw a role for Herr Zeller! And what if there is a baby? You are all much more creative than I am! I especially appreciated the conversations about how Maria would work out the conflicting emotions of love, devotion, trust, doubt, guilt, and fear in these circumstances. Stay tuned for more and meanwhile, don't own, all for love!