Things started to improve in the von Trapp villa after the small concert. Major changes did not happen overnight, of course, but Maria had not expected that. She knew enough about trauma to know that healing would take time and for every step forward, there was a potential to take one backwards or sideways instead. Armed with that knowledge, she did her best to support Georg's growing relationship with his children without pushing him too fast. When the boys asked him to help with their latest model that night at dinner, she suggested they finish as much as they could on their own and then perhaps their father could help finish. He shot her a grateful smile for that. And when Louisa expressed an interest in rousting him from his study the following afternoon to play outside with them, she reminded the children that he had work he needed to complete and distracted them with a game.

But she did see small changes in him. He was quicker to smile at the children and more careful about correcting them. More than once, she saw him start to say something harsh and take a deep breath to stop himself. He also listened to them more often, responding to the stories they told him and asking clarifying questions. Maria could see that they relished the attention.

Music remained one of the primary ways that he bonded with his children. As the wet fall weather took hold, the children stayed indoors more often, and they often gravitated toward the music room when they did. Generally, it only took one song for him to join them, a small smile on his face as he sat down at the piano bench. Maria had always thought music could heal, but she had not realized just how powerful it was until she saw the change it brought to all the von Trapp's. Georg taught them more Austrian folk songs, including some that even Maria did not know, but Maria brought her own knowledge of hymns which the children happily learned, even those in Latin. Maria also managed to surprise everyone with her yodeling abilities, a talent she had picked up while performing farm chores in her youth. Georg had played a tune on the piano that she recognized as a yodeling song, and she had started singing without really thinking, losing herself in the music. When the final note had sounded, she had finally looked over to find him staring at her in astonishment. She could not quite read the expression on his face, but his voice was soft, almost intimate as he asked, "Tell me, Fraulein, is there anything you can't do?"

He caught her unawares, so she, as usual, said the first thing that popped into her mind. "Well, I don't think I'll make a very good nun." That caused him to throw back his head and laugh, the first true laugh she had heard from him. It lit up his entire face and made him look almost boyish. Maria briefly wondered what she could do to make him laugh like that again, but she quickly suppressed those thoughts, knowing they had no place. The children laughed with him, even those who likely did not understand why he was laughing, and their presence fortunately broke the tension between the two adults. Georg insisted on hearing more of Maria's yodeling after that, and she was quite hoarse by the time they dispersed to prepare for dinner.

After putting the youngest three children to bed that night, Maria reminded the oldest ones that they should start preparing for bed as well. She noted that Liesl was not in her room, but she did not worry much about that, for she suspected the oldest girl was in the same place she was more often than not these days. With that thought in mind, Maria descended the stairs and returned to the music room. She heard the low cadence of voices inside and knew her guess was correct. Since Georg had agreed to teach Liesl piano, the two had spent many nights at the instrument. Maria had stopped to watch on one of the first nights, drawn, as always, to music. Georg had seen her soon after she had stepped into the room and had given her a small smile, so she assumed he did not mind that she was there. And so her visit had become something of a nightly ritual as well; if Liesl was playing, she would often stand in the doorway and watch for fifteen or twenty minutes until it was time for Liesl to prepare for bed.

On this particular night, she did not hear any piano music. Instead, she heard Liesl's musical voice remarking, "It was one of her favorites."

"Yes, it was," her father agreed.

"I thought you burned all her favorites that night."

Georg cleared his throat. "I am truly sorry for what you had to witness those first few weeks. I was not myself, and I reacted very poorly to your mother's death. I should have. . . well, I should have done a lot of things. And I should not have done a lot of others."

"It's okay; I understand. Or at least I'm starting to. You loved her very much, and you were grieving. I forgive you for what you did, and I think the others are starting to as well."

"That is much more than I deserve." They were silent for a minute or two; glancing in the open doorway, Maria saw that Georg had pulled his daughter into a tight embrace. She smiled. Though all of the children were growing closer to their father, Liesl had grown the closest in the past few weeks, in a large part because of the time she spent with him playing the piano. Maria had encouraged the bond as much as she could, knowing that the others would follow Liesl's example. She also suspected that Liesl would have the hardest time forgiving her father–after all, as the oldest, she had borne the brunt of the responsibility when her father had distanced himself from his children after their mother's death. Now that Georg and Liesl seemed to have reconciled, Maria made a mental note to begin encouraging his relationship with the other children.

"Are you sure you're ready to play this again?" Liesl questioned.

"I am," Georg told her, and Maria heard the absolute certainty in his voice. "Are you?" he added gently.

"I am. Sometimes, it's nice to be reminded of her."

Georg let out a long breath. "I suppose you are right," he finally remarked softly.

Liesl gave a small gasp. "We. . . we remind you of her, don't we."

"Every day," he admitted with a soft smile. "But as you so wisely pointed out, that does not have to be a bad thing." With that, he slid away from her, turning back to the piano. "Let us see how much I still remember," he remarked. Maria stepped away from the door as he began to play, deciding to leave father and daughter with their memories instead of joining them as she had on previous nights. As she started for the stairs to check on the other children, she nearly ran into Louisa who was standing on the bottom step, an almost wistful expression on her face as she stared at the partially open door to the music room.

"They're playing again," she said softly. "They play almost every night." Maria heard the jealousy in her tone easily enough.

"I am sure your father would be happy to do something with you as well if you asked."

Louisa scoffed. "I don't want to learn piano. I never liked it."

"I did not say you had to ask him to teach you piano." Louisa looked at her in confusion, so Maria decided to be more explicit. "What is something both you and your father enjoy?"

Louisa frowned. "I don't know. It's not like he talks about his interests with me!"

Maria considered for a few moments. Finally, she suggested, "What about your hikes? I know you enjoy those, and I am sure he would be happy to accompany you on one." Louisa considered for a moment before giving her governess a small smile.

"I could ask."

"Tomorrow," Maria told her. "Right now, it's time to prepare for bed." Louisa nodded, turning obediently toward the stairs.

One week later, Maria woke well before her alarm and simply could not fall back asleep. Having never been the type of person to laze in bed, she decided to make the most of her unexpected free time. Perhaps she could take a walk before the children awoke. With that thought in mind, she dressed quickly and padded softly down the stairs. She was so focused on the thought of her walk that she failed to realize she was not alone until a familiar voice remarked. "Where are you sneaking off to so early, Fraulein?" Surprised, Maria whirled around to see Georg standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the banister. Her eyes widened when she saw what he was wearing. For once, he was not wearing a full suit; instead, he wore dark cotton trousers that fitted tightly around his calves, flaring out a bit above the knee. Maria noted almost subconsciously that they showed the muscles of his lower legs quite nicely, certainly better than his normal trousers. Instead of polished dress shoes, he wore leather boots that, though obviously well-made of high-quality material, were also well worn. He wore a red jacket which flared slightly at the bottom and, perhaps most surprisingly of all to Maria, no tie.

"Captain," she said, pressing a hand to her heart. She told herself she only did so because he surprised her, but a part of her noted that shock was not the only emotion causing her heart to beat faster.

He gave a small smile, almost a smirk. "Well, Fraulein? Care to share where you were going?"

"Oh, just for a walk," she said, gesturing vaguely.

"Hmm." He pushed off the banister, approaching her slowly. She took an involuntary step backwards.

"Where are you going?" she asked, trying to turn the tables on him.

He paused a few feet away from her, his eyebrows raised. For a moment, she thought he was not going to answer her, but he eventually did. "Riding."

"Oh." Her voice sounded weak, even to her ears. She should have known where he was going–after all, she had grown up on a farm. She had seen plenty of people in riding clothes though admittedly none as nice as the ones he was wearing. Noises from upstairs caused them both to look in that direction, and his expression softened.

"And that is likely my riding partner now."

Maria felt a surge of some emotion that she did not care to name, for it did her no credit. It also dissipated quickly when the person came into sight at the top of the stairs. Louisa. Of course he would be riding with one of the children! Nothing else made sense. Maria glanced over to see him frowning at his daughter's appearance. "Those are your jodhpurs?" he questioned. Maria wondered what was wrong with them, but as Louisa came closer, she saw why he was asking. Louisa's pants were tighter than his, and they ended an inch above her ankles, something that was readily obvious since she was carrying her riding boots.

"They're the only ones I had. They fit me the last time I rode."

Georg's frown deepened. "We'll have to get you new ones soon if you're going to be riding more, but I suppose they will work for today." Louisa visibly relaxed at hearing that she would still be able to ride with her father. "What is wrong with your boots?"

"They're too small, too. It's been awhile since I rode."

Georg winced but quickly controlled his reaction. "Wait here. I think I saw an old pair of your brother's boots the other day. Those should fit you." He disappeared up the stairs, and Louisa and Maria were silent for a couple minutes. Finally, Louisa turned to Maria.

"Are you coming, too?" she asked, and Maria sensed a hint of disappointment in her tone.

Maria smiled reassuringly. "No, I was just up early, so I decided to go on a walk. I suppose you found something in common with your father after all."

"I had forgotten that he rode until we passed the stables on our walk, and he mentioned he still goes a couple times a week when he's home." Maria nodded, happy that Louisa had found some common ground with her father.

"Have you ridden before?"

"Oh, yes!" Louisa said with more excitement in her voice than Maria had ever heard. "I used to take lessons. Before. . ."

"Yes, and we will rectify that soon," Georg told her, coming down the stairs with a pair of boots in his hand. "I plan to talk to Herr Mueller today about starting them again."

The excitement faded from Louisa's eyes. "I don't want to take lessons," she said, her old sullenness returning. Her father gave her a puzzled look.

"Why ever not? Herr Mueller was always quite complimentary of you, called you one of his best students."

"I just don't want to. Why do I need lessons anyway? Can't I just ride with you?"

"I'm not an instructor, Louisa. You need someone who can help you develop your talent."

"You're a better rider than most instructors in Austria!"

Maria was beginning to understand what was going on, and she stepped forward before the argument could get out of hand. "Louisa, why don't you put on the boots your father found. Captain, could I have a quick word with you?"

He heaved a sigh but fortunately acquiesced to her request, passing the boots to his daughter before stepping away from her, gesturing for Maria to follow. "You have some insight into her sudden dislike of riding, I assume?" he asked once they were out of Louisa's earshot.

"It's not a dislike of riding. She's worried that lessons will mean no more rides with you." Understanding dawned immediately in his face.

"But she never rode with me before," he pointed out logically. "She only rode in lessons. This will actually be the first time we go riding together."

"It's not about doing exactly what you did before, Captain," Maria told him gently. "The oldest children at least are old enough to understand that nothing is going to be exactly the same as before. They lost a parent. That means that they want as much time as they can get with their remaining parent–you."

He sighed. "This is not going to be easy, is it?"

"No, but it will be worth it, Captain. They truly are wonderful children."

He smiled broadly at her. "Yes, they are, aren't they?" He turned back to Louisa who had finished lacing up her riding boots. She gave her father a tentative smile.

"They're still a bit big, but I imagine I will grow into them soon enough. In the meantime, I can just lace them tighter."

"Why don't you and I take a trip to town today to find you some riding clothes that fit?" Georg suggested. "I have a feeling you will be riding a lot more, especially if you want to continue to ride with me and take lessons." Louisa's smile broadened, and she impulsively rushed forward and wrapped her father in a hug. It was an unusual sign of affection from the normally taciturn girl, and Maria watched with a small smile as Georg hugged her back. Satisfied that father and daughter had reached an understanding, Maria slipped out the door to go on her walk.

The von Trapp villa was quite busy over the next two weeks. After Liesl and Louisa's success, both Friedrich and Kurt decided they wanted to find a way to spend special time with their father as well. Friedrich easily decided what he wanted to do–despite his assertion that he would never join the Navy, he told Maria that he always loved being on the water and asked his father to take him sailing. Georg warned his son that the weather would soon turn too cold for sailing but nevertheless agreed to take Friedrich while he still could. Maria vividly remembered their first trip. She had taken all of the children out to play, enjoying what would likely be one of the last relatively warm days before winter came to Salzburg. Therefore, they were all there to witness the return of the intrepid sailors. Maria suspected something had gone wrong when she saw the boat come back much earlier than she had expected, and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw a dripping wet Captain working the sails next to a slightly apprehensive, very apologetic Friedrich. They docked the boat, Georg showing his son how to tie a strong knot to keep it in place. Then, in a move that seemed to surprise everyone who was watching, Georg placed his hands on his son's shoulders, forcing Friedrich to look at him. When the young boy finally met his eye, Georg said firmly, "It was not your fault, Friedrich. I was the more experienced sailor. That means it is my responsibility to watch out for both of us." Friedrich stared at him for a moment before finally nodding.

Maria turned to Liesl who was standing next to her, watching the scene with her mouth slightly open. "Go get a towel for your father," she instructed. Immediately, Liesl moved toward the house. The Captain glanced up from his talk with Friedrich, noticing their audience for the first time.

"We are both fine," he said firmly.

"What happened, Father?" Louisa asked.

"Just a bit of a mishap with the boom."

"Did you fall in?" Kurt sounded as if he were in awe. Friedrich winced.

"Only for a moment."

"Aren't you cold?" Kurt pressed.

"I'm a Navy man. I have swum in much colder water." Indeed, Georg did not seem to be shivering at all despite his wet clothing and the cool air temperature. Liesl returned at that moment with the towel, and her father gratefully took it from her. "Thank you, my dear. I would hate to drip water all through the house." He dried himself as much as possible before wrapping the towel around his shoulders. "Now, if you will excuse me, I would like a warm shower." As he passed by Maria and the children, Maria had a sudden, amusing thought that she could not shake. She tried to keep her face impassive, but something must have shown through, for Georg paused in front of her and raised his eyebrows. "Something funny, Fraulein?" he questioned.

She shook her head, but he continued to stare at her, and she lost control of her laughter. A snort escaped her. Knowing she had no choice but to say something, she finally told him, "I was just thinking that I suppose a submarine captain would be more comfortable in the water than out of it." For a moment, she thought she had gone too far and he would grow angry with her as he had after his return home weeks before. However, after a few seconds of silence, he chuckled as well.

"Touche, Fraulein," he remarked softly. "Truth be told, I was not expecting Friedrich's. . . overzealous tacking, and the boom caught me by surprise. I suppose it has been much too long since I was last on a ship." His eyes took on a wistful expression.

"I think you may have found yourself a new first mate for future endeavors," Maria remarked, nodding to his eldest son. Georg turned and smiled at Friedrich.

"Indeed I have."

Like Louisa, Kurt struggled for a bit to find a way to connect with his father, but Maria had an easy answer for him. She had learned soon after coming to the von Trapp household that Kurt was the true model ship lover in the family–Friedrich would help his brother with their construction because he felt it was his duty as an older brother, but he had little interest in the activity itself. Georg easily agreed to take Friedrich's place, and Maria often found the two bent over the latest model at a table in the corner of the playroom.

October turned to November, and Maria noted that the Captain had definitely bonded with his oldest four children, so she decided it was time to help him with the youngest as well. And so one night, instead of reading two bedtime stories for Marta and Brigitta, she read only one before kissing each girl on the forehead, promising to return in a minute with a surprise. Their curiosity kept them from demanding their second story, and Maria was able to leave the room without a fuss. After that, she made her way to the music room, hoping that her plan would work.

Liesl was just leaving when Maria entered the music room. "You don't even have to remind me tonight, Fraulein," she said with a smile as she breezed past Maria.

"I appreciate that," Maria told her sincerely.

"Something you need?" Georg asked when Maria did not follow his daughter from the room.

"I just wanted to let you know that Brigitta and Marta are in bed, but I only read one story tonight. I thought you might enjoy the honor of reading the second."

His brow furrowed. "I never-"

"Different times, Captain," she reminded him.

"Hmm." He considered her words for a few moments before standing. "I suppose I could read one story," he agreed. Maria gave him a wide smile before gesturing for him to lead the way to the room where his youngest daughters slept. She stayed in the doorway as he entered, far enough away so that she did not feel like she was intruding but close enough that she could see the sheer joy on the small girls' faces when they saw their father.

"Are you reading tonight, Papa?" Brigitta asked. Georg seemed taken-aback by the form of address, turning to Maria with question in his eyes. She simply smiled. Liesl had mentioned that the older children had called him that when they were younger, but he had stopped the practice when his wife died, even for the little ones who still enjoyed using the childish address. Maria had taken a bit of a chance by encouraging the use again, but since he did not immediately rebuke his daughter, she felt that perhaps it had been a chance worth taking.

"It seems I am," Georg finally answered, returning his attention to the girls.

"Good. You can do the voices like Fraulein Maria then," Brigitta told him matter-of-factly. Maria bit her lip to stop from laughing, sure that Georg had not expected that particular request.

"I do not know that I will be quite as adept as your Fraulein, but I can try," he agreed. With that, he took the book Brigitta handed him and started to read, including different voices for different characters as requested. Satisfied that her plan had succeeded, Maria left to check on the older children.

Some time later, Maria was just leaving the boys' room after a frantic search for Kurt's pajama pants (they had been bundled up under his pillow) when she nearly ran into the Captain leaving his youngest daughters' room. "Was the story a success, Captain?" she asked.

"Both are asleep," he told her. He paused for a moment, and Maria did as well, sensing he had something to tell her. "Why don't you join me for a nightcap in my study tonight?" he suggested.

"Oh, I couldn't! I don't drink."

"I am sure I could find something without alcohol."

Maria still hesitated. She certainly wanted to go, for in the past few weeks, she had grown to enjoy spending time with him. He was an incredibly complex man, sometimes both infuriating and delighting her within moments, but that simply made him all the more intriguing to her. However, though they had grown undeniably closer in the past few weeks, they had kept their interactions limited to those that would be at least plausible for a governess and her employer. Having a drink with him in his study with no children around certainly did not fall into that category. Unless, of course. . . "Would we be discussing the children, Captain?" she asked.

He arched an eyebrow at her, but his quick mind soon realized what she was truly asking. "Of course, Fraulein. With seven of them, there is much to discuss." She nodded in agreement, and he led the way down the stairs to his study. Maria had never actually seen the inside before, and she gasped in surprise at the floor to ceiling bookshelves covering two walls with more titles than she had even imagined existed in all of Salzburg, much less in a private library. He watched her unguarded fascination, a small half-smile on his lips. "You have now discovered yet another one of my interests," he remarked, gesturing to the books. "Though this one at least is partially my father's fault–he started the collection."

"Have you read them all?" Maria asked, still starting around her in wonder.

Georg snorted. "Hardly. Some are even in languages I cannot read. But I have certainly made a dent in them over the years." He paused for a moment, and she could sense his gaze still on her though she kept her own eyes on the books. "You can borrow any of them whenever you like," he offered.

"Oh, I couldn't! They're so beautiful! What if I mess them up?"

"I insist, Fraulein. I've always believed that books are meant to be read."

"Thank you," she told him sincerely. He simply nodded, gesturing to the couch.

"Please, sit. I will get us something to drink. Non-alcoholic for you, of course." He moved to a small cabinet and pulled out a couple bottles. After a minute, he joined her on the couch, passing her a glass with a dark liquid that bubbled. She stared at it curiously. "It's soda," he explained. "Try it. I think you will enjoy it." Cautiously, she took a small sip, and her eyes widened as the carbonation hit her tongue. The beverage was quite sweet though there was an almost acidic undertone as well. "Well?"

"It is different than anything I've ever had before."

"But you like it?" Maria took another, larger sip, rolling it around in her mouth before nodding. "Good. I had noticed you have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I thought you might enjoy it." He sipped his own beverage, leaning back against the couch cushions. Maria noted that it was the most relaxed she had ever seen him. "So, what are you thoughts on the children?" he finally questioned.

"The children?"

He turned to face her, and she noted he had an almost teasing glint in his eye. "We are here to discuss them, are we not?"

"Oh, right, of course. Well, Friedrich seems to be improving in math though he still struggles with confidence." Fortunately, talking about the seven children she had come to love was something Maria could do for hours, so she focused on the conversation, forgetting about the all-too-intimate setting for the time being. For his part, the Captain did listen carefully to what she said, interjecting his own thoughts from time to time or giving insightful advice. Without really realizing what had happened, she suddenly heard the clock striking ten. "Is it that late already?" she asked, straightening.

The Captain glanced at his watch. "It seems that way."

"Oh, I should be getting ready for bed. I am sorry for staying so long, Captain!"

"On the contrary, Fraulein, I rather enjoyed the company. Would you be interested in making it a more regular occurrence?"

"How regular?"

"I think two or three times a week should be sufficient for now."

"Okay."

He gave her a genuine smile. "Goodnight, then, Fraulein. I will see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Captain."

A/N: I know this chapter covers a long time period, but I have a lot to cover, so I tried to find a balance between writing about the relationship building and not spending hundreds of thousands of words to do so. Hopefully, I succeeded, but let me know if you think this is too much or too little detail!