The Wolf is at the Door

"Life is a web of intersections and choices. Your 1st choice is to recognize an intersection. Your 2nd choice is to be grateful for it."

Ryan Lilly

Elsa Schroeder had known Georg Von Trapp and his moods long enough to know that something was troubling him. The day that he and Max arrived, he seemed off and was a little bit distracted, but she chalked that up to the long drive from Salzburg - half of it with Max in the car. Max liked to talk, and at times he even tired her out. The night of their arrival, they had agreed to go to a cute little Italian restaurant for pasta al fresco. The ambience was lovely and the food was superb. Georg was his usual, contented self as he strolled along the Wienflusspromenade with Elsa's dainty hand tucked into his elbow after dinner. Max regaled them with stories of his latest visit to Boheimkirchen and the great plans he and Herr Walter had hatched at his villa along the banks of the Totzenbach. It appeared to be just another glorious evening out with Georg and Max. Yet, once they had returned to Elsa's villa, Georg seemed to be drifting in and out of the conversations they were having, which was not at all typical for him. Several times he apologized to both Elsa and Max for being distracted, suggesting he had not had enough sleep the night before. He excused himself much earlier than normal to return to the Sacher, leaving Max behind to take a taxi on his own. For Max, there was far too much gossip to share with Elsa, and he could hardly bear the thought of turning in early.

During the 36 hours leading up to her little Friday night party, Elsa had been so busy organizing things and polishing off the last-minute details, she had not really been able to devote much attention to Georg. Instead, she had left him and Max to mill about Vienna while she played the role of the perfect hostess, planning, organizing, arranging... However, the few conversations she was able to squeeze in with Georg in between calls with the caterer and the florist were certainly not as lively and engaging as they should be. He always seemed to be deep in thought, distant, brooding…

In the two years that Elsa had been close to Georg, she knew that he would have days where he would retreat into a shell and become quiet and ominous. She knew that during those times he was thinking about her. It was incredible, really, to find a man who was so dedicated to his wife four years after they had parted through death. The love that they shared bonded them, even welded them together. When that bond was snapped, he too, became untethered and bled inwardly. During those quiet moments, when she knew he was feeling melancholy, she had become quite skilled at handling Georg Von Trapp and his dark moods. She was almost always successful in turning him around, usually by encouraging him to be madly active: outings with friends, hosting parties, waltzes at the local dance salon, walks in the park along the Wiental Kanal…just about any activity to bring him out of his funk.

However, since his arrival 2 days ago, Georg's crestfallen disposition was simply not the same one she had grown accustomed to. He certainly was not in that state of deep despair where she would sometimes find him, nor was he soaking himself in champagne – he was not drinking nearly as much this week compared to his last few visits. He seemed so introspective, and it was almost as though he avoided alcohol so it would not muddy his mind and prevent him from seeing whatever he was trying to see.

There were even times when she would catch him when he thought he was alone, wearing a smug little half grin. That same one he would flash when he was trying to feign indifference, yet obviously amused by something that societal protocols deemed inappropriate. Truly, the great Captain Von Trapp was caught in a fog and he was searching for a lighthouse to guide him somewhere. Elsa wasn't sure if that was towards her or away from her.

The night of the party, as the guests arrived, she could see he was impatient, restless, and generally out-of-sorts. This was nothing new for Georg, since Elsa understood that he despised huge gatherings and only tolerated his role in her parties and soirées for her benefit since she adored them so. His idea of a grand Friday evening would be a quiet night in front of the fire, nursing a whiskey on the rocks or a snifter of Courvoisier. Quiet, solitude. She imagined he had gained a deep respect for them both while cramped into those foul-smelling submarines he once commanded. This of course, was not novel, yet somehow, he seemed more restless than usual. Almost as though he had an itch that he could not quite scratch.

That evening when the party was in full swing, when she wasn't dragging him onto the dance floor, Elsa would see him across the salon, sitting in his favourite chair, hand on his chin, staring off into space. Sometimes he looked confused, other times amused. What was going on inside of that handsome little head of his? If he wasn't sitting, Elsa would notice him pacing about. Stalking the perimeter of the dance floor, looking at no one in particular, and occasionally excusing himself from conversation to wander onto the balcony.

Elsa approached Max between dances after Georg had excused himself to go outside for some air. "Max, did Georg say anything to you on the drive here? Is something troubling him? He's just not himself since he arrived."

"Well, my dear, I think the man has pre-proposal jitters". Elsa scowled at his apparent levity with the whole situation. Max grinned widely while twirling the ends of his moustache. "Or, it could be because I caught him gazing in an unholy manner at a young woman outside the Banhoff the day we travelled here and he's reliving those moments!". Both he and Elsa erupted into giggles and she playfully swatted him on the arm. "Seriously though, Elsa. He told me in the car that he was bringing you back to see his corner of the world and to meet the children. I think he's nervous about making a good impression."

Elsa sighed. She had thought of that. Hearing it from Max, however, provided a great deal more reassurance compared to the stories she was telling herself. "How can you be so sure he is going to propose soon, Max? Did he say something?" she pressed on.

Max leaned back against the wall and crossed his legs, picking up a glass of champagne as the butler wandered past with a fully stocked tray. "Elsa, my dear. Why else would he bring you to Salzburg now? Even the servants at the villa have been speculating that something is going to happen. When I spoke to Frau Schmidt the other day, as soon as she learned that you were coming to visit, even she reached that conclusion. Clara has been with the family since before Georg was married the first time. If anyone has good instincts, it's her".

Elsa leaned in towards Max and dropped a kiss on his cheek. Patting the spot she had just kissed, she smiled knowingly. "Thank you, Max. You are just what the doctor ordered. I am feeling much less worried about how he has been acting since he arrived in Vienna". She gave Max a wink, patted his shoulder, and then seductively strutted off in the direction of the door she had seen Georg exiting a few moments before.

Georg stood on the terrace breathing in the night air. The sun was just setting and Sirius was making its usual entrance in the night sky. He enjoyed the long days of June as the solstice approached. However, since arriving in Vienna, he had not been able to shake this unsettled feeling that had descended upon him the day she arrived. It gnawed away in his stomach whether he was consciously thinking about her or not. He hated not being in control of his emotions. Given that he was planning on taking Elsa back to the villa to meet the children, he should be focused on that, not her. Yet, every time he closed his eyes, he saw hers. It was as though they had been tattooed to the inside of his eyelids.

He shook his head in an attempt to regain reason: he needed to be focused on the life he should be planning with Elsa. Yet, for some reason, he just could not. The thought of being tied to Elsa in marriage made him more uncomfortable than he liked to admit.

He looked at his watch. Just over 72 hours had passed since the Fraulein arrived riding the waves of the thunderstorm that had descended upon the villa. He laughed to himself. "Really, the storm descended that afternoon, about 1400 hours." Fraulein Maria was in many ways the female incarnation of the Great Zeus from Homer's Iliad, tossing her thunderbolts towards the villa from her mountain. He, Poisedon, Captain of the sea, stood perched on the shore trying to make sense of it all. In his imagination he could see her Zeus riding off with him and the Hippocampi off to Greece to tear down the walls of the great fortress of the Archeans. He grinned outwardly at how ridiculous it all was: a grown man with an over-active imagination, playing make believe with the governess?

Looking westward to where the horizon was beginning to escape into darkness, he wondered what they were doing, the children and the little Fraulein? Had they started their studies on time this morning? Was she following the rules and guidelines in the notes he had given her? How was her whistle work coming along? What was for dinner? Had the tricks stopped yet? How long would he be in Vienna before he received another call informing him that the governess had had it with his children and resigned her post? It had been three days now and not a word?

Georg realized that he must put in a call to Frau Schmid to get an update on the goings-on back at home. The whole mess was all very intriguing, and although he would hate to admit it to himself, he was impressed with the Fraulein's tenacity even though he barely knew the woman. In some ways he wished he was at home to learn more about her, to understand the methods behind her madness!

There had been eleven governesses before this one. Never before had a lowly governess consumed so many of his thoughts. Not since Agathe had a woman set him off balance so - igniting feelings that had been dormant for so long. Smiling, he recalled the woman he had seen outside the Banhoff waiting for Max. When he had spotted her, his heart raced in anticipation, only to sink when he realized he was 200 miles from home. What was it? Was it desire, or some misplaced emotion he could not quite label? Perhaps it was gratitude for her ability to connect with the children so quickly? He knew the children had not had a true protector since Agathe had died, someone to champion their cause.

There had to be a logical explanation. He shook his head in denial and chalked it up to the fact that she was so damn unconventional. Everything she did was different. She had already challenged him in ways no one else would dare, well, except maybe Agathe. He took in another deep, shaky breath. That must be why she was so often in his thoughts. She reminded him of her. Well, that and those big blue eyes, and the dreams he had been having of her since they met.

Georg was emotionally shaken by his thoughts. Normally, when he thought about 'her' he was thinking about 'her': his Agathe. Seemingly overnight, though, the "her" he was so accustomed to sharing his thoughts with had been replaced. In some ways, this transformation made him angry. How dare this slip of a governess invade his thoughts and push his away his wife's memories?

He straightened his arms and gripped the railing on the terrace so hard the pads of his fingers turned white. He had to shake this obsession he seemed to have developed. Yet, it was hard to banish her from his thoughts when he was still trying to figure out why he was having these thoughts in the first place. Wistfully, he looked back up into the sky, only to spot Pollox and Castor holding hands in the northwest. He gritted his teeth together as he contemplated the vigour of Pollox, the son of Zeus…there he was again, the God of the mountain? He ran an unsteady hand through his air and released the breath he didn't know he was holding.

At that very moment, Elsa crept up behind him and silently moved her hands about his head. In an instant she closed them over his eyes and leaned into the warmth of his back. "Guess who-hooo?" she cooed. Georg immediately stiffened at her touch, mostly out of embarrassment for where his thoughts were when she arrived, but he slowly released the tension in his body as he quickly donned his Captain's mask. He turned unhurriedly towards her arms and she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. Stepping back, she took both of his hands in hers and looked him in the eyes. Despite noticing a far-away-look in those stormy blue eyes, she pushed on. "Well, my Captain. It seems you have run away from the party. Shall I call in the Admiral to speak to you about discipline?" She chortled as he rolled his eyes in response.

"No, darling, no Admiral necessary. I have just been suffering with a bit of a headache today. A bit sleep-deprived, I think. The night before I left for Vienna we had a wicked storm in Salzburg. Of course, it arrived at bedtime and the children's routine was upset. We all went to bed much too late and I haven't caught up yet. Something is off with my bed at the Sacher, I haven't figured out what has changed about it yet. Different mattress? Pillow isn't quite right?". He grimaced inwardly at his white lie.

"Oh darling, I can get you some Aspirin if you like. Or maybe you just need another drink? And remember, my guest room is always available if you prefer to choose alternative accommodations". She raised one eyebrow temptingly in his direction.

"No, no more drinks, thank you. I am afraid I have had my share for tonight. I thought the air would help. But, now you are here and you are not distracted by your guests, so I shall find myself feeling better very soon, I am sure". He winked at her as he placed an arm around her shoulders and steered her back inside. "Perhaps a frantic polka around the dance floor will get the blood flowing to my head, hmmm?". Elsa laughed out loud as she let him lead her towards the ballroom. She had hired a small orchestra for that evening, and as she passed by, she leaned into the ear of the Konzertmeister and requested that he play Strauss' Kuss Walzer. In short order, the waltz began to play and Georg led her and the other couples around the floor.

ooOoo

Back at the villa, life with the children was slowly developing into a lovely routine for Maria. The day after her curtains had been installed, Maria turned their lesson time into a practical study time. Starting that very morning, Maria and the children worked on art and design, geometry, measurement, and home economics.

Maria's mother had been an exceptional seamstress, but she was too young to learn her trade from her. Maria smiled as she threaded a needle for Gretl and Marta to help with the basting. She remembered her mother working in the kitchen by lamp light, her big scissors would carefully trace bits of brown paper that Maria had helped to pin down. Maria wished she had been able to learn more from her mother, but instead, she developed her skills when she was in high school when she had the opportunity to work with a seamstress who lived in Innsbruck. Working closely with Frau Schotter, she learned the skills necessary to make her own clothes while helping to make the vestments for Monsignor Wagner and the altar boys in the cathedral.

The idea to make play clothes from her old drapes had been an epiphany the night Maria arrived at the villa. When the Captain left her room in one of his insufferable, stubborn, and pig-headed moods, she had initially felt so deflated. But soon, the realization that so many yards of fabric would no longer be required as draperies, she knew she had an ace up her sleeve and could finally get a leg-up on the Captain.

Seeing the children running about the villa yesterday, sharing stories of their parents was so heart-warming. They once had run and played like normal children and even rough-housed with their father. By hearing their stories, she knew that that Captain was a family man and somewhere deep inside he still had to exist. She just had to dust him off and polish him up again. Enabling the children to reconnect with their roots was part of her grand plan to bring the Captain and the children back together. Having spent three days at the villa, Maria and the children were developing a strong bond. In particular, the time they spent together in the attic had revealed so much to Maria and she recognized that it was God's will she be here to help them all.

During lesson time, Maria, he explained her plan to make play clothes to the children. While initially they were a bit hesitant, perhaps even a bit anxious, Maria was able to convince them that they would be able to run and play without fear of spoiling their uniforms. Maria rolled her eyes at her recollections of that moment. The uniforms, like the whistle, just had to go. In some subliminal way, Maria found herself outwardly rebelling against the wimples and black habits they were required to wear in the Abbey. The children's uniforms were symbolic of her desire to shed the boundaries set upon her by her own clothing. The children obviously hated marching around the grounds breathing deeply, and through her own experience, she understood that freeing them from their uniforms would be equally as liberating. She pursed her lips and blew a stream of air into her bangs. Perhaps this was the Reverend Mother at work yet again!

Maria engaged the children and their unique personalities to help design and make their own play clothes. They learned how to measure each other for fittings, they drew patterns and placed them on the old curtains before pinning them down and painstakingly cutting out all the pieces. Each child incorporated their own design ideas into each piece. Louisa added a kerchief to her ensemble, Kurt wanted a tailored dress shirt like his father wore, and Friedrich preferred more traditional lederhosen. While the girls had all settled on dresses, Gretl was determined that she should have her own pair of overall shorts.

Late one night after the children had gone to bed, Maria returned to the sewing room to work on the play clothes. As she basted, she fondly recalled the evening of her 'tour' of the villa. She and the children had returned to the attic that night to look at some of the late Baroness' things. The older children all told so many touching stories about their mother: the younger ones were too small to remember her, yet it was so obvious how important it was for them to try to remember. These stories also helped Maria to fill in the images she had formed of Baroness Von Trapp since her arrival at the villa.

In the chest there were beautiful pieces of artwork, a violin, photographs, jewellery, and so many lovely dresses. Marta showed Maria a photo of her and her mother that had been taken just after she was born. The Baroness was wearing a beautiful summer sundress in pale green. It had buttons down the front and the straps were tied together in a bow. After discussing some of their happy moments together, Marta had asked Maria to incorporate the design of her mother's dress into her play clothes, and Maria was happy to oblige.

Just as soon as they started working, a division of labour began to unfurl as certain children excelled in certain sewing activities more than others. The older children did the cutting and Marta and Gretl couriered the pieces back and forth, offering their assistance with some basting. Maria sewed pieces together on the villa sewing machine, and soon, carefully and lovingly, yards of curtain fabric were transformed into a matching set of clothing, perfect for mucking about outdoors.

It took a solid 48 hours of work: after the children had gone to bed each night, Maria would continue to toil on some of the finer details. A successful mission was declared when the uniforms were finally banished to the closet. To celebrate their achievements, Maria announced the morning after the new clothes had been completed at breakfast that they would be forgoing their studies altogether and they would be taking a picnic atop the Untersberg. Maria could not wait to share some of her own memories with the children after several days of learning about the Baroness and the Captain before her untimely passing.

ooOoo

Eight days had passed since Max and Georg arrived in Vienna, and although Max was quite at home in his accommodations at the Sacher, Georg had had quite enough of living out of his suitcase for the time being. They both could have stayed at Elsa's villa, there was certainly enough room for that! However, Georg always managed to discourage sharing accommodations with Elsa - maintaining propriety or some other excuse he could find, citing the need to prevent chin-wagging among the gossips of Vienna. Truth be told, although he enjoyed Elsa's company, he found that he appreciated some solace at the end of the day. Elsa never pressed him to stay at her villa, although she did offer him accommodations regularly.

Georg realized how ironic it was that routinely fled to Vienna to avoid his pain, but when he got here, he still needed to have time alone. He missed his study while he was away, and the silence of his luxurious accommodations was a decent stand-in, so long as he could enjoy it in peace. He needed time to think clearly, to plan, to scheme. To chart a course for his future. How many hours had he spent in his small, cramped quarters on the SM-U5, taking in what reconnaissance he had been given, considering his orders, deciding what the next steps were? It was just part of who he was and he thanked God that Elsa did not ask him to change. Too much had changed over the past four years; at least this was one part that was constant. However, now he was forced to chart a new future with a proposal to Elsa. Yet, if he was honest with himself, the thought of this final destination troubled him greatly.

Despite his warm relationship with Elsa, it just didn't satisfy him. It was like being offered milk when he wanted cream: their relationship filled him up, but still left him hungry. However, at his age and having already had a beautiful first marriage, could he really expect to find that kind of love again? At least Elsa offered him some stability and could be a mother figure to his children. She would know how to launch them into society and do all the things that fathers were ham-fisted at.

He hated himself for leaving the children so often. Before Agathe had passed, she begged him to keep them together, to love them when she could not be there. She told him that he would find love and remarry and the family would one day heal and be happy again. He remembered the hot tears running down his face as he shook his head furiously at her assertions. "I will never love another the way I have loved you, my darling." Agathe had gathered him into her arms with what little strength she had and stroked his hair. "Georg, darling. I promise you. I will find someone and send her to you. I will seek the hand of God and all his angels to find the right woman for you and the children. I promise you.". Georg continued to murmur words of denial, that it would never be. But he did promise to her that he would love the children with his whole heart.

Georg did love the children, he just found it too painful to share this love. As he and Agathe welcomed them into their home and hearts, he didn't think the world could be any more perfect. After she died, when he looked at them, all he saw was her face, her eyes, her hair, her laugh, her tears…She was his everything, and when she died, she left bits and pieces of the things he loved best about her in all the children. Yet, looking at them every day broke his heart into a million pieces because he could not have that complete woman he so craved with every fibre of his being. As a result, he did the only thing he could do. He ran.

On the eighth morning while he and Max were taking breakfast with Elsa on the terrace, they decided they would return to Salzburg in two days. Tomorrow they were to attend an afternoon tea with some Navy colleagues, and then the next morning they would head back. Elsa decided that she had better spend a good part of that day preparing for the trip to Aigen, and so she set about to pack her little bags, leaving Georg to fend for himself. Max had already made plans to connect with some festival colleagues, so Georg decided to walk about downtown since it was such a lovely day. The humidity of the day was starting to build, but the morning remained fair. As he climbed into his car and headed towards downtown, he had a specific destination in mind: the Pallas Athene fountain.

Georg was hardly a religious man, nor was he superstitious, except when on the water. However, Greek mythology was one of those areas of study that had always fascinated him throughout school and beyond. Of course, he was very fond of Poseidon, and had commissioned Anna Mahler to design Gustav and Franz for the landing gates.

Athena had always been Georg's favourite Goddess of Greek mythology: the goddess of knowledge, she held important insights that would help him and guide him. Athena, in particular, had always been a source of inspiration in his life, it was one of the places in Vienna where he could go to and find himself again. The day before he had proposed to Agathe, he had come here first to seek guidance from Athena. It was a beautiful sunny day, just like today, almost 25 years ago when he had asked her if he was choosing wisely. She had told him it was the right decision.

Another reason Georg loved this fountain was its symbolism. At Athena's feet were the four great rivers of the Empire: the Danube, the Inn, The Moldau, and the Elbe. Those rivers spread to all corners of the great Empire that he had so tirelessly defended. With all the political upheaval in Austria, Athena provided reassurance that his sacrifice had not been in vain. On days when he found himself feeling unsure, Athena would always show him the way.

Today, however, Athena did not offer clarity. She did not say "propose to Elsa, Captain Von Trapp". As he squinted his eyes into the glistening sunlight, trying to make out her noble profile, instead, he felt she was telling him: "follow your heart, my Captain". What the hell was that supposed to mean? If not Elsa, then who? He shook his head trying to make sense of everything. Indeed, Athena was not offering her usual helping of wisdom.

He looked upon Athena's feet, watching the cluster of pigeons strutting between her toes as they cooed in harmony with each other. He wistfully studied the four statues that flanked her position, each representing the four key rivers of the Empire. His focus on them kept forcing his thoughts back to the Inn, almost as though it was calling to him. The Inn...Why the Inn? He drummed his fingers against the side of his thighs…Why was Athena directing his attention towards the rivers at her feet and not to her gilded crown of wisdom? And why the Inn and why not the Danube? The Inn was represented by a confident, young female whose quiet strength rivaled the power of the Danube. He ran his fingers across the stubble of his jaw trying to make sense of the reasons why Athena could possibly be failing him...

All at once, his heart hammered off-rhythm in his chest as he came to a startling realization. Athena would never fail him. He had always found such clarity at her feet throughout his whole life. His eyes focused on the Inn, that mighty river that eventually joined the Danube at Passau. Its headwaters were well west of Vienna, originating in the Swiss Alps before travelling east through Innsbruck and Tyrol.

The mountains?

He swallowed hard and looked towards the heavens. Remembering what Agathe had told him, he laughed out loud. It was so silly. He took off his hat and hit it hard against his thigh. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. Replacing the hat on his head, he stepped closer to the fountain and dipped his fingers in the waters of the Inn and flicked the droplets back towards her. "Ridiculous!" he barked as he turned on his heels and headed back to the hotel to get ready for dinner.

Walking along the Opernring towards the Sacher, Georg decided to make a quick detour along the Eschenbachgasse so he could stop at the Market. There was a tailor in the area that he was quite fond of, and he really needed a new tie to go with the suit that he recently had fitted. Truth be told, Georg was seeking a distraction from all these irrational thoughts about mountains and true love. Pushing his way through the throngs of people going about their mid-day shopping, he paused to let an older couple with a small dog pass. He tipped his hat to them as they went by and when he looked up at the store front to find his bearings once more, that was when he saw it. Displayed in the window of the Näherin Orientalisch, between the headless mannikins dressed in glorious ballgowns, was a bolt of the most beautiful azure blue silk fabric. His eyes grew wide in disbelief.

Remembering his visit with Athena only moments before, he could not shake the fixation he had with the Inn. In his mind he could see Athena, standing before him, the Inn at her feet. The Mountains. The blue sky, the blue glacial waters. His mind replayed the moment last week while he sat outside the Banhoff waiting for Max. The young woman with the auburn hair, the blue eyes, and the blue dress. It was almost the exact same fabric as the one in the window. Gauzy and flowy, it reminded him of the crystal waters of the Mediterranean and it reminded him of the Inn as it rolled along from its headwaters. As Georg looked upon the confident, yet delicate features of the Inn's face, he had to shake some sense into his head as he saw Fraulein Maria staring down at him from the fountain. An eerie sense overcame him, but he wasn't scared or worried, but it was definitely unsettling. Georg was never impulsive, but before he could even talk himself out of the idea that had entered his mind, he was opening the door and shuffling inside.

Normally when Georg came to Vienna to visit Elsa, he'd be more than happy to stay for a few weeks – anything to escape the stifling pain at home. However, this time around he had a nagging desire to return. Was it because he had heard nothing from the villa? Was he curious to know how the little Fraulein was faring? If she had managed to last this long, she must be corrupting the children by now. Georg grimaced as he pondered images in his mind of his children hanging from trees or splashing in the lake. He felt ambivalent: if the children had welcomed her and accepted her, shouldn't he be glad? For so long he tried to find a governess that would stay for more than a few days, and finally it seemed he had caught one, but he still remained unsettled.

Georg was certainly happy that the children had found a governess they could trust, but her presence continued to haunt him, even from 200 miles away. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to shake some sense into himself as he thought about the bolt of blue fabric that was wrapped neatly in brown paper and strings, safely stowed away in the boot of the car. It was only fabric, but it was a poignant reminder of everything back home and of how much this governess had already managed to get under his skin. Now when he imagined the woman at the Banhoff, he could see her wrapped in a beautiful blue dress instead of the basic colours he had ordered her before leaving for Vienna.

ooOoo

The Navy family tea party had been one of the worst social events of the season. Elsa, of course, was in her element tittering and chatting with all her society friends. Max was also quite pleased with the whole situation, and he made the rounds, networking with all the musicians who were in attendance. The weather was hot, his suit was stifling, and the conversation was tedious. The women were dressed dreadfully in their Ascot-esque hats and dresses, weeds here…weeds there. You could not get close to the buffet table without whacking your head on a hat brim.

As he tried to run a finger between his neck and his collar, Georg detested the stifling nature of the humidity and he felt as though he had an itch he could not scratch. A sensation he was getting used to over the past week-and-a-half. Was it because he had been in Vienna for well over a week and not once did he hear any news from the Villa. What was more perplexing to him was that while everyone at home preoccupied his thoughts, not once did he choose to call them to make sure that everything was okay. He was afraid that by doing so the spell would be broken the moment his call was connected and everything would go off the rails in a hurry.

It was so ironic for Georg – when he was here and wanted to stay here, the children would scare off the governess and he would have to return home. This time, however, he had a nagging desire to return home…why he wasn't quite sure, but this time no one requested his presence. Since the little Fraulein had descended on the villa riding the wings of Zeus' great storm, everything in his life had become a mass of contradictions.

Georg had managed to shed the nauseating chit-chat with Elsa's friends and had shrugged off to the corner of the garden with General Kohler in tow. The two of them sat under the shade of the big oak tree with their cocktails, both with their elbows on their knees, counting the minutes before they could leave the party behind and shed these suits. He fell into easy conversation with Eduard, hitting all the contemporary talking points: the goings-on in Germany, the apparent weakness of Schuschnigg, the intelligence filtering out to the corners of Europe. Neither Eduard nor Georg were pleased with all the talk about the cozy relationship between Austria and Germany and were discussing Austria's options should an invasion take place.

Eduard got himself worked up into a lather and was delivering a soliloquy on the status of Austria since the end of the Great War. Georg found himself drifting out of this entirely one-way conversation, and each time he left, he found himself thinking about the damn governess again. Indeed, the little Fraulein had invaded his thoughts more often than not during this recent stay in the capital, but it was the dream he had last night after he had returned from visiting the Pallas Athene fountain that had him feeling terribly unsettled today.

This recent dream was very different from the dreams he had of the Fraulein since her first night and the villa. Really, he should be ashamed of himself for having such unholy thoughts about the woman, but they stirred such intense emotions he found himself drawn to reliving them. He had not felt anything like this for so long and he was trying to understand the reasons for it.

Mumbling a response to Eduard about naval strategy, he wondered how could his subconscious mind could create such a torrid scene with someone much younger than him who was destined to be a nun? He was surely going to go to hell for some of these thoughts. However, he had already decided that she was attractive, albeit unconventionally, so that must be the reason. Yet, it still made no sense - Georg had women throwing themselves at his feet, beautiful, slender, and dangerous women for the past four years, and never once did they follow him into his dreams.

Unlike some of his mind's previous offerings, last night's dream, while completely innocent, was almost worse than those he was becoming accustomed to. No, he would gladly repeat the dreams of his recent past where he would awaken to a mess of tangled bed sheets, covered in perspiration, clutching the pillow, and finding himself terribly aroused. Those dreams were somehow easier to take than the one he had last night.

Last night he had a dream about Agathe. He realized it was the first time since Fraulein Maria's arrival that he had dreamed about her at all. Prior to her arrival, Agathe visited him regularly at night. Georg dreamed of her often, yet then in the morning she was gone. It was the only solace he could find at the end of the day – he could stow away to bed, close his eyes and be with her once more. Yet, the little Fraulein had wiggled into his subconscious, pushing out his tender memories of his life with Agathe before she was snatched away prematurely.

In this dream, he vividly remembered search for Agathe everywhere in the villa. He called out to her, but no one was there to help him find her. The servants were gone and the children were nowhere to be found. It was almost like the early days in his and Agathe's courtship when they were two souls in love without children to be tended to.

As he searched, he was overcome with a strange sense that Agathe would be in the ballroom, as he often found her there playing the piano when she had some time to herself. He opened the double doors, peering inside. He squinted in the faint light as it was only lit by a candelabra on the piano. She wasn't there, but the lid on the piano was open and sheet music ruffled in the breeze that was coming in from the open terrace doors. She had obviously just been there, he could smell the faint scent of lavender and vanilla that he associated with Agathe. He paused to blow out the flames on the candelabra and then pattered across the floor of the ballroom and wandered outdoors.

The other place where Georg would routinely find Agathe was in the gazebo. He remembered the early sunny morning about 12 years ago when he had snuck up on her in the morning and took her photograph while she enjoyed her tea and read her book. She scolded him for many days after he had developed that photograph, lecturing him on how expensive it was to take such silly pictures of nothing of significance. Oh, but in retrospect, those photos were some of the most precious things he owned.

As Georg wandered outside in the moonlight, eventually he found her by following the sound of her voice, and soon he could see her moonlit form on the bench outside the gazebo. Rubbing his hands together with glee, he was relishing the opportunity to be alone with her. However, as he got closer, he realized she was not alone.

Agathe had her arm draped around someone's shoulder. She and this stranger were of similar height, but the person she was holding was more slight with short hair. Was it one of the children? He squinted in the dappled light from the moon as it dispersed through the canopy of the trees. It was definitely not one of the children. Was it a man? His blood began to boil as he made his way towards them, his footsteps picking up the pace.

In all the years they had been married, he never once questioned her loyalty and fidelity. It was like they were newlyweds, seven children later. He was so confused: what was going on? As he approached, Agathe sensed his presence immediately, and looked over her shoulder in his direction. Her eyes sparkled at him and she smiled knowingly. She released her grip on the stranger and proceeded to stand and walk towards him, opening her arms. She was so beautiful in the moonlight, so stunning, mesmerizing…he forgot he was angry with her for being so intimate with this strange person.

Agathe walked up to him and embraced him, kissing him, long and soft. As she let him go, momentarily touching her forehead to his, she stepped back silently. She studied his face in a serious manner and reached up to push back the locks that had fallen over his forehead while he hurried out across the lawn. She kissed him again on the lips, lingering while she kept her eyes locked on his. She took his hands in hers for a moment and she silently mouthed the words "I will love you, forever, my Captain." She gently dropped his hands and then in a sweeping motion, she lifted her arm and turned it in the direction of the stranger. His eyes followed the taut length of her arm, her dress flowing beneath it in the evening breeze. As Georg reached the ends of her fingertips, he looked across the few feet of lawn and directly into the eyes of the stranger. They were crystal blue and they danced with energy. This was no man.

He gasped! It was her, the little Fraulein. He was so confused. He looked back to Agathe who was still smiling, yet she seemed to understand his concern as she gently shook her head. She walked to him and took his hand, steering him in the direction of the bench. As they approached the little Fraulein, Agathe gently took his hand and placed it in Maria's. She held both her hands around theirs and he looked down at where they had been joined. He looked up at the Fraulein with confusion, and she appeared to be equally as confused. Agathe let go of their joined hands and smiled widely; yet, he still struggled to understand. What was the meaning of all of this?

He turned to Agathe with a "why?" on his lips, but she was gone...vanished! He looked back into the eyes of Fraulein Maria in a state of shock, but the look on her face was pure heaven. Her smile, her freckles sparkling in the moonlight. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. He felt a wave of contentedness flow over him. It was as though a tormented piece of his soul had finally taken flight after four long years. He reached out with his right hand and gently tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear and then rested it on her shoulder. Maria turned her face to his with a gentle smile and placed her hand on top of his.

At that very moment he woke up, his heart racing. For a moment he didn't know where he was. He was in his room at the Sacher. He looked over to the clock: 3:08 in the morning. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed he sat up and ran his hands through his hair. This was madness! He could not get over how this woman followed him everywhere. She stirred feelings in him he had not experienced in years, and then she entered his dreams and was encouraged by Agathe to come to him! Georg was unsettled, off-kilter, angry! How dare she take the place of his beloved wife.

As Georg looked down to his wedding band, he spun it slowly. Sliding it up his finger, he gently took it off and looked at it in the moonlight. While he could not see the inscription there, he knew it off by heart. Their wedding bands were complementary: hers with the words "Take my hand and we'll begin..." and his: " ...and what we start will never end." All at once he was overcome with a wave of sadness and the tears flowed freely. There was no end to the emotions that he was hit with. His body wracked with sobs as he lay on his side, curled up in a ball. After a few moments, he lifted the ring to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it. He whispered into the night "what we start will never end, my love, but why are you doing this to me? Shouldn't it be easier by now?".

Soon his tears stopped their journey and he breathed deeply. All at once he felt a wave of calm come over him. No longer was he angry at her for leaving, no longer was he mad at her for coming. It must be sign that he should focus on a potential life with Elsa. The day after tomorrow she would meet the children, and if that worked out, he could start to pick up the pieces and move on, knowing that his love for Agathe would never end. But what did the little Fraulein have to do with this?

The wind started to pick up at the tea party and Eduard declared that they should head for the tent before the rain came. Georg shook out the confusion in his mind as he tried to remember where he was. He grunted his agreement and picked up his glass from the ground and stood to stretch out his restlessness as he made his way over to the canopy. He still could not figure out what this latest dream meant, what was it trying to tell him?

By this time tomorrow, Georg would know at least part of the answer.

Another LOOONG chapter for all you long chapter fans out there! Thanks for your encouragement with the last chapter. I enjoyed writing this one: a bit more bouncing around between Salzburg and Vienna and a wee bit more complexity. Thanks for continuing to read along.