CHAPTER 5: The Villa, Many Months Later

Shock – the greatest shock of her entire life – stunned Maria into silence, leaving her completely unable to think, let alone speak.

Could this day get any worse? It was bad enough that she'd been sent away from the Abbey, leaving her farther than ever from becoming one of the sisters. Now she would have to prove herself not only to Reverend Mother, but to seven children. Seven! During the long bus ride to Aigen, she had reminded herself that she did, after all, like children, and that if anyone understood the plight of motherless children, it would be her. But her fragile confidence evaporated the moment those ballroom doors had flown open. Because this was a nightmare unfolding right before her eyes, a million times worse than any headache she'd endured while cooped up at Nonnberg.

When he'd first appeared, backlit in the ballroom doors, she had tried to tell herself it wasn't him, but rather the remnant of a guilty conscience triggered by the day's discussions of naval captains. But when she stumbled past him and back into the foyer, a quick second look confirmed that the "fine, brave" naval captain Reverend Mother had spoken of was, indeed, the very same Captain she'd left lying near-dead in a Vienna street many months ago. Her heart sank at the sight of the scar on his chin, which erased any doubt – she could still remember the sickening sound of his chin hitting the pavement. But much to her relief, he didn't seem to recognize her. Twenty pounds lighter and with her hair chopped short, Maria wasn't really surprised.

While he turned to close the door firmly behind him and delivered a stinging rebuke about leaving the ballroom undisturbed, she had a moment to gather her thoughts and was able manage a quiet, "Yes, Captain, sir" in reply. Because in this splendid sunlit marble-and-brass space, so unlike the Crow's Nest, it seemed entirely fitting to call him "sir."

"Why do you stare at me that way?"

After one last good look at him, Maria couldn't suppress the relief in her voice.

"Well, you don't look at all like a sea captain, sir."

Relief, not only because he didn't recognize her, but because, clearly, the man had fully recovered from the attack. With his stern, elegant profile and piercing blue eyes, he was as handsome as ever. Handsome in a dangerous way, in a way that a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey probably shouldn't even be noticing.

In the next several hours, Maria learned more about the Captain than she could have imagined from their brief interactions at the Crow's Nest. She learned that he was intimidating, infuriating, and coldly impatient to put as much physical and emotional distance between himself and his children as he could.

At their first introduction, the von Trapp children had obviously been ready to go to war with their new governess, with a frog their first weapon of attack. But by the end of Maria's first night at the villa, it seemed that a truce had been called. It started when she won their respect during the dinner table skirmish and later stood up to their father when he discovered them cavorting about her bedroom. It was obvious that for the children, the fun of teaming up on their previous governesses had brought them closer, and Maria became determined to use fun to get them on her side instead. For once they were all on the same side, the children would learn to trust her, so that she might help their hearts open to their father's new bride.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

With Captain von Trapp away in Vienna and safely out of the picture, Maria found ways to respect his wishes while allowing his children plenty of fun. Each afternoon was dedicated to an excursion around Salzburg and up into the mountains. But mornings were still spent in the schoolroom. At first, the children whined about having to keep up their studies but became enthusiastic when she proposed they choose projects that matched their interests. Brigitta happily tramped about the grounds and splashed through the lake, assembling a museum's worth of specimens. Liesl went to work translating several classic romances – prescreened by her governess, of course – into French. Louisa choreographed a ballet set in ancient Greece. Gretl and Marta built a medieval castle, which wasn't entirely historically accurate, being painted pink, but was good enough for the boys to use to recreate historically significant battles.

It was those historically significant battles that eventually led to Maria's own downfall.

From the very beginning, she had been struck by how, although their father appeared cold and very nearly heartless, the children still longed to be close to him. From the stories the older children told, she learned that when their mother was alive, he had been a very different sort of father, warm and engaged. Marta and Gretl were too young to know what they had lost of him; they just wanted to be loved, something she found easy to do. But Maria puzzled over how to help the older children, who had, in a way, lost both their parents. She felt especially incapable of helping Friedrich, who so obviously wanted to be a man, but had no one to show him how. And so, while the boys planned and carried out their reenacted battles, she listened carefully as Friedrich bragged of his father's military successes, how bravely he had fought for Austria, how he had been knighted by the Emperor.

"He has a pile of medals put away somewhere," Friedrich told her. "He hasn't taken them out to show us in forever. But look! I found a book in his library with pictures of them." He began to page through the colorful illustrations. "Here is the bronze heart, he has that one, and he has two of these medals of honor, and he has this legion of merit," Friedrich went on, turning the page. When the boy pointed at the next picture, his voice took on a tone of near reverence.

"And then of course, he has this one. The Maria Thereisen."

The Captain's medal!

Maria was overcome with panic at the sight of the white enameled cross. Although the Captain's wallet and the money were long gone, she still had the medal, for Nonnberg Abbey let each new postulant keep a few personal items that represented the life she'd left behind. The idea was that these items would be relinquished when the girl moved on to the novitiate, a milestone Maria nearly despaired of reaching. Upon enrolling at Nonnberg, she had chosen to keep her guitar and the medal, both reminders of how she had lost her way in Vienna, and how, upon her return to Dusterbach, God had softened and opened her heart to her mother's memory, to music, and eventually to His will. Both treasures had accompanied her to Aigen. The guitar went everywhere with her, while the medal remained in her bedroom, tucked away between her stockings and nightgowns.

Friedrich was reading the description of the medal aloud, about how it was considered to be the highest honor in all Austria. For Maria, the medal had held religious meaning for so long, but she had never stopped to wonder about its importance to the Captain, its original owner, who rarely stepped inside a church and had to be reminded to say grace before meals. Now she thought of how the Austrian flag dominated the stairwell, a constant reminder of his patriotism. The medal must have been so precious to him, and its loss a tragedy, especially in such violent circumstances. She must find a way to return it before he returned from Vienna. Without, of course, his ever knowing how it made its way back to him.

But as the days slipped by, Maria found herself unable to complete the errand. Every time she went to retrieve the medal, the memory of how the medal had come into her possession reawakened such strong feelings – fear, despair, and especially her shame at failing the Captain. Although on that last count, she had tried to redeem herself, hadn't she? Even if he would never know it. She had done everything she could about it, confessing her sins, committing herself to serving God and her neighbors. The rest would have to be in His hands, she told herself.

Another week or two passed before, without advance notice, Captain von Trapp returned home. He appeared at the lakeside while she was out rowing with the children, so unnerving Maria that she swamped the boat and nearly drowned Gretl in the process. He completely failed to acknowledge the children's delight at his return and barked at them instead, glowering with rage, before introducing them to Baroness Elsa Schrader. Maria barely had a moment to register that the Baroness was the same woman she'd seen on the Captain's arm at the opera, before she found herself in a shouting match with him and summarily dismissed from her position.

But the whole incident had ended well enough, she thought to herself later that night as she got ready for bed. The children had sounded like angels when they sang for the Baroness, and the Captain had relented and asked her to stay. Maria found herself truly anticipating the weeks to come, and the chance to bring father, new mother, and children closer together. There was just one thing she had to do first.

She waited until the big clock in the foyer struck midnight and crept down the stairs with the medal clutched in her fist, bare feet on plush carpet and cold marble. It wasn't the first time she'd made this trip late at night, when she'd been unable to sleep. The Captain really did possess a remarkable library. She'd just slide the medal in between two of the more conveniently located volumes and hope it would be discovered soon.

In the library now, running her fingers over the colorful spines at eye level, this section apparently dedicated to naval history. Which was appropriate, she thought, seeing as how-

"What are you doing there?"

Heart in her throat, Maria whirled to face him, keeping the medal clasped securely in her left hand, which she tucked behind her back.

"Captain! Sir! I was just retrieving a book. For – ehrm – for Kurt."

"At this hour?" he blinked, but his expression remained pleasant. "What kind of book?"

"Oh, just – you know, a book." She ought to have given a more satisfactory answer, Maria knew, but she could think of nothing but the medal, warm against her palm, growing slick with nervous sweat.

"Very well," his brow furrowed, "but I would like to know what book specifically, Fraulein. Kurt is my son, after all, and not everything in this library is suitable for-"

"I – ehrm – I'm not done with it," she babbled.

Now he advanced on her. "Show me the book, Fraulein." His voice took on just the hint of an edge. Fear crept up her spine, but Maria tightened her grip on the medal. Surely the Captain was not the kind to use physical force on an innocent postulant from Nonnberg Abbey. She need only stand her ground and eventually he would give up.

Before she even realized it, he had reached around her and grabbed her wrist, pressing on the base of thumb in a way that, while painless, caused her hand to fly open and the medal to fall to the floor. Maria watched with horror as he crouched low to the ground, picked it up and went perfectly still. He remained there, staring at the object lying in his palm for the longest time. When at last he rose to his feet, his eyes flew to her face, back down at the medal, and then back to her.

"Where did you get this?"

His tone was soft but somehow menacing, and it frightened Maria far more than if he'd shouted at her. She was used to being shouted at. There was an easy way out, of course: she could tell him that she'd found the medal in the streets of Vienna or come across it in the window of a pawnshop. Or been given it as a gift. But how could she, promised to God, rescued and protected by that medal, tell a bald-faced lie?

It was too late for a lie anyway, she saw. The Captain's expression had already begun to shift, recognition spreading slowly across his features.

"You?" he whispered.

"Yes," she admitted, but if she thought the confession would spare her, she was wrong.

"That was you. In Vienna. I didn't think it was possible for me to forget that face, but the resemblance escaped me until now. You," and now his voice began to rise, and with it, Maria's insides knotted with dread. "You were there!"

"I can explain, Captain! It's not what it looks like. I mean, I wasn't part of it. I was frightened-"

"Frightened?" he snarled. "Frightened? Do you have any idea what it's like, Fraulein, to be set upon by a pack of wolves? To fear for your life?"

Her uncle's face, twisted in an ugly sneer, rose before her.

"Actually, Captain, yes, I do," she said quietly.

To her relief, a tiny bit of the anger leaked from his face, replaced by curiosity, but just then, a high, sweet voice floated from the doorway.

"Father? Why are you shouting at Fraulein Maria?" Marta's lower lip trembled. "Are you going to send her away, too?"

When Maria snuck a peek at the Captain, he was carefully studying his shoes. Finally, he lifted his head and gave a deep, resigned sigh.

"No, Marta darling. I'm not sending her away. We're just – ehrm – having a discussion." He turned to Maria. "We will continue this discussion immediately after breakfast tomorrow morning. You will meet me here in the library. Alone," he glared at her.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Come now, Marta, let's get you back to bed."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The Captain did not appear at breakfast the next morning. Afterward, Maria sent the children up to the schoolroom, leaving Liesl in charge, and trudged into the library like a prisoner on the way to the gallows. The Captain stood behind his big desk, waiting for her.

"Close the door behind you and sit down," he said curtly, waving her into one of the straight-backed chairs that faced his desk. She didn't even wait for him to settle into his own enormous leather chair before launching into an apology.

"I'm sorry, sir. For everything. If you would only let me explain- You're not going to tell on me, are you?" Maria pleaded.

"I ought to, you know. On top of everything else, I'm not happy about being blackmailed by a six-year-old."

"I had nothing to do with that. And she's been seven for nearly a month," Maria corrected him, and then wished she hadn't.

"While I may have made certain promises to Marta, Fraulein, the reality is that I have well-founded reservations about you. I can hardly be blamed for questioning your suitability to look after my children on moral grounds. Tell me, is that how you stumbled upon your holy vocation? While luring men into the back room of a bar?" he asked bitterly.

Maria winced, although she deserved it. She had been prepared not only to apologize, but if necessary, to beg his forgiveness and mercy, but for the Captain – who had spent a month away from his children without calling or writing them even once – to pretend concern for them, was more than she could bear.

"Tell me, Captain," she said resentfully, "what kind of a national hero and devoted father pays a barmaid to take him into the back room?"

"What on earth are you talking about? I have never in my life done anything like that! Not at the Crow's Nest, not anywhere. Not as a young man and certainly not more recently."

"I saw it with my own eyes. You followed Anna into the back room, and came out with your wallet in your hand," Maria was surprised at how she recalled every detail of the incident after all this time. "And afterward, she said – she said-" What was it Anna had said, anyway?

"I don't know who or what you're talking about," he said disdainfully.

"Anna," Maria insisted. "She had long black hair."

"Hold on," he said suddenly. "Was she the one with the – ehrm – never mind. I remember it now. And you're right, Fraulein. I did go with her." Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed. He leaned forward and planted his elbows on the desk. Eyes twinkling, he said, "Don't you want to know what happened?"

"No!" Maria felt her cheeks turn red. "Of course I don't!"

"I gave her-"

"Captain!"

"I gave her the talking-to of her life. Told her she deserved better than to be a barmaid giving herself away in that fashion, that she was going to get herself in some kind of trouble, that she ought to go back to whatever village she'd come from and find herself a nice husband to take care of her, and if she wasn't going to do that, to go see my solicitor about a respectable position. I gave her a hundred shillings to get her started. Don't tell me: she took the money but not my advice." He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied air.

"Now. As for you, Fraulein. Don't they have standards at Nonnberg Abbey? How on earth could one of their postulants even begin to imagine a less wholesome explanation for my behavior? And I definitely can't understand how one of their postulants could have extended a similar offer to m-"

"Oh, please, don't!" By now, her face was on fire. "I swear to you, I've never done anything like that, not before and not since. Not even once in my life. I've never kissed anyone," she confessed, although her insides twisted with embarrassment.

"Kissing?" His lips twitched in an obvious effort to keep from laughing, but his eyes danced with amusement. "You think they were kissing back there?"

"That's what they told me, yes." He seemed to have decided the whole thing was just a joke, after all. She tried again to explain herself. "Honestly, I don't know what I'd have done if-"

"If I'd have gone with you? I know that, Fraulein," he said gently. "I'm a very good judge of character. Which is why, instead of calling the police, I invited you here to explain yourself." He crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm waiting."

There was no choice left but to tell him the whole story and let him sit in judgement. In a way, it was almost a relief to tell him the story from the beginning. About her parents, and Dusterbach, and her uncle, and Father Leo, and her failed plans to study business, and the lost scholarship, and her months at the Crow's Nest. The growing realization that Willem's gang was up to no good, and the humiliation that led her to flee the bar and witness his beating.

"I didn't know what to do. I was afraid of him. I was afraid of you."

The Captain opened his mouth to interrupt, but she didn't let him.

"Afterward, something – I don't know, something happened to me. Not all at once, of course, but-"

She told him about finding the wallet and medal and returning to Dusterbach, about Rupert and Martina, about her days on the mountain, about the sisters singing on their way to vespers and the festival music of Salzburg. Maria could easily have felt foolish unburdening herself so thoroughly to a man she barely knew, a powerful and accomplished man, a national hero. But he listened with a kind of quiet intensity that drove her on, displaying almost no reaction beyond the occasional twitch of his lips or lifted eyebrow.

"I'm not the same girl I was at the Crow's Nest, I don't think. Not anymore. I kept the medal because – well, I didn't know it was a military honor. For me, it was a reminder to keep looking for the will of God, even in the most unlikely of circumstances. I'm still looking for it, in fact. But I am trying, and I am learning. Even from your children, Captain, I have learned so much." She took a deep breath. "I am so, so sorry, Captain. About the beating you took, about not helping you, about keeping your medal. I will completely understand if you decide to send me back to the Abbey. I'll pack my bags this minute," she rose to leave.

"You will stay seated," he said sharply. Maria sank back into her chair, ready to bear the brunt of his angry words. But then he spoke more gently. "So that's what you meant when you said you had feared for your life. Your uncle."

She nodded.

"You knew," he said. "Didn't you? You recognized me when you arrived here!"

"I did," she admitted. "But you didn't seem to recognize me, and within a matter of hours, you had left for Vienna." The truth was, Maria thought, that he'd been in such a hurry to escape to Vienna that he would have failed to notice if she'd begun to bark like a dog. But instead, she continued, "I had to cut my hair when I entered the Abbey, and I grew quite skinny there. The food was awful," she said fondly.

"I don't know how I missed it," he said. "A blow to the head like that – well, it does tend to knock the most immediate memories right out of your head. I saw it for myself, in battle. And it might have been my pride that was hurt as much as anything else. That, and losing the medal." He reached into his pocket and withdrew the medal, regarding it with great tenderness.

"I can scarcely believe it," the Captain shook his head, "but it seems I am going to allow you to stay."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Although it does seem there ought to have been some consequence."

"You could dock my pay, Captain."

"I'm not paying you, I'm paying the Abbey," he pointed out. "And speaking of money-"

"I didn't spend it on myself," Maria said hastily.

"Well, then," he shook his head, "we'll just have to put the matter behind us. My children would not forgive me if I let you go, and from what you tell me, I think I can trust you not to steal anything else from me, although," but there was a smile in his voice when he said it, "you'll forgive me if I don't rely on you the next time my life is in danger."

"Thank you, sir," Maria returned his smile. "I am so grateful for your kindness," and she was, even though she didn't quite know how to express it. Before she knew what she was doing, she extended her hand to him, reaching across the desk. There was an awkward moment when he simply stared at her hand, but then his smile broadened into a grin as he slid his hand into hers and returned the handshake. His hand felt so unexpectedly nice, somehow - large, warm, and strong - that she had to remind herself to let go of it.

"That will be all, Fraulein," he said, smoothly disengaging his hand, and then the moment was gone. He was once again an aristocrat with a formal demeanor and a sharp-edged humor, and she was a postulant, promised to God.

Maria was so overcome with relief that it wasn't until that night, just before she fell asleep, that she thought to wonder: what on earth had brought Captain von Trapp to the Crow's Nest in the first place?

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

And that, my friends, is a question we will leave for the epilogue. Till then, thank you for sticking with this awkward little story. (Did you ever notice how relieved Maria is when she says that sea captain line? Now we know why!) I don't own anything about TSOM, I do this for love. 121.