That night in bed, Georg tossed and turned. He sighed as he realized that sleep was not going to come easy tonight – there were just too many thoughts knocking around in his head to be able to shut down despite the long drive. He looked over to the alarm clock beside his bed: half-past midnight.
After everything he had been through and put others through, he figured he deserved a poor night's sleep while the rest of the villa slumbered on peacefully.
Almost four years of running had led to this day. When he woke up in Vienna earlier that morning, he was certain that today would be the first day of the rest of his life. Georg was correct in his assessment, but it wasn't exactly the life he had planned out. Thanks to the skylarking of one dripping-wet governess, his and Agathe's children had come barreling back into his life and became part of the plans to move on with marriage to Elsa. No longer an accessory after the fact. After years of enduring the usual heavy feeling of dread that washed over him whenever he thought of the children in that way, Georg felt light, almost unburdened. Over the past 10 days, so many knots in the tapestry of his life had started to unravel, and the release of tension was life-altering.
All thanks to her.
Georg rolled into a sitting position, ran his hand through his hair to push the waves off his brow, and then he stuffed his feet into his slippers. Making his way towards the window, he looked out over the lake. The moon was beginning to set over the mountains, and it reflected perfectly off the still surface of the water. The night was quiet except for the odd owl hooting in the trees outside. Normally, on a night like this when sleep would not come easy, Georg's mind would drift to nights long ago when he was perched atop his submarine watching the ocean swallow the moon, his eyes fixed on Polaris. But not tonight.
Without intending to do so, his eyes trained on the spot on the landing where Fraulein Maria had let him have it earlier in the day. That little governess was so precise in her fire, even his father-in-law would be impressed - and John Whitehead was not impressed by anything other than perfection. That kind of skill would make her a prime candidate for torpedo duty on one of his U-boats, he chuckled to himself.
However, despite the little Fraulein's ability to hit targets at close range, she was a heaving mass of contradictions, that much he was sure of. Obstinate, strong-willed, loyal, passionate. What surprised him the most was that she possessed the temper of Sycorax. Unpredictable as weather, flighty as a feather...
Even now, his heart rate quickened as his mind replayed her words:
"...you won't even know them!"
"...there's no one to show him how!"
"...you're going to wake up and find she's a woman...".
Like a horse trainer, she had pushed him until he finally broke. And in that moment of weakness, in order to save himself, he fired her and sent her back to the Abbey. Never before had Georg the Captain turned his back on anyone under his command. Today was different, however. The little Fraulein had made him feel like he was the worst person on Earth, and so, he was able to rationalize that she was the enemy.
Through a series of events in a relatively short period of time, Georg's life had been turned on its head. It had all happened so quickly. When he first heard the children singing, he was hell-bent on stopping them right away. He could not bear to hear them singing, and they all should have known better. And yet, as he charged into the house, something snapped. Even now, he wasn't sure he could explain it. Was it the sound of his children? The dressing-down he had just received from his governess? Something bigger than them all?
Entering the villa, he slowed as the voices became louder - but before he could see them. The beautiful voices of the children caused an up-welling of memories from happier times. At that moment, he could distinctly hear Liesl singing, and he fondly remembered how she and Agathe would sing together. Along with Liesl's voice, he heard another that sounded so familiar - just like Agathe's, in fact. As he approached the doorway, he tracked the sound of his wife's voice, but instead of seeing Agathe, his eyes fell upon Louisa. Beautiful Louisa Franziska who looked so much like her mother and sang like an angel. Georg had to hold himself up on the door frame as he fought back the tears that had started to cloud his vision.
Blinking in an attempt to clear his vision, he clearly saw all seven children in formation standing by the window. All of them were singing and were organized not in order of age or height, but as a double trio plus one. As he looked upon their faces, memories of the days he had met each one of them for the first time flashed before his eyes. He carefully studied them and wondered where the time had gone. He saw Agathe's face and mannerisms in all of them. She had never really left him, and like the fool he was, it had taken all these years for him to realize.
The song they were singing was one of Agathe's favourites. He had blocked it away for so long, but as Liesl strummed the chords on the guitar, each pass over the strings opened the door to his heart. The melody first returned to him and then the words soon followed. A genuine smile formed on his face, and for reasons he could not explain, he sang with all the love he had been hiding away for so long.
As he sang, Georg was struck by a memory of Agathe sitting with Liesl, Friederich and Louisa on a summer day in the rose garden. He had just come home from a rather long deployment, and he rushed out of house and into the yard to find them. Agathe had her violin, and as she played, she and the two eldest sang along. Louisa, too small to contribute to the music, babbled as she pulled up blades of grass with her tiny fists. That same song is what the little Fraulein had taught them, or in the case of the oldest children, refreshed their memories. It was the same song that Agathe played that day – beautiful words that described his home, the mountains, the church bells that pealed the day he and Agathe were married and when the three children had been baptized. The lake, the birds, their songs as they flitted about the trees. It was a beautiful scene to behold then, and it was even more moving now.
"I go to the hills, when my heart is lonely, I know I will hear what I've heard before..."
He did not see Elsa or Max in the drawing room. He only saw Agathe and their seven babies, and he was hit with the realization of how much he had missed them.
When the children joined together with Georg for the final bars of the song, he knew she was right – that it had been much too long since he was a proper father. Hopefully it was not too late to sing once more and be present for them. Thank God for the little Fraulein for making him see the error of his ways.
"I'll sing once more …".
Those four words were so poignant; they represented a new start for Georg that began that afternoon on the terrace.
As the last notes died, the silence took over. The children looked at him quite literally like they had seen a ghost; afraid to move or even breathe lest they break the spell. However, his darling Brigitta noticed first. She ran into his open arms, and it didn't take long for the others to follow. His heart was overflowing with joy in those moments.
Georg was so wrapped up in the heady emotion of that moment, he totally had forgotten he had fired the governess. The one who was responsible for making this reunion possible.
She had to forgive him. She just had to!
Georg Von Trapp rarely apologized for anything, but the words came out with little effort. He apologized to her for his tactics, for his appalling behaviour that day, and in many ways, for his distance over the past four years. He wanted her to know that he was sorry, and that she had made him realize what an idiot he had been.
Fraulein Mara was quick to forgive, that much he understood. Initially, he wasn't sure if she would even accept his apology, but once she did, he understood that her deeds and words had set off a chain reaction that would profoundly change his life. No matter what happened tomorrow or the day after that, he would be forever grateful to her.
"You were right. I don't know my children", he had told her.
Even now he cringed hearing those words: "you were right".
Georg knew that he needed the little Fraulein to stay. She could make all of this all work for him. She could help bridge the gap that he had created over the past four years. He was embarrassed to admit that she knew the children better than he did. A smooth relationship with the children would make the transition to parenting much easier for Elsa.
Georg understood that he had an uphill battle to regain the children's trust, particularly the older ones. Maria had obviously learned so much about them all in so little time, and Georg appreciated a comrade who was skilled in intelligence gathering. What a turnaround from 10 days ago when he sternly told her that "there's nothing wrong with the children, only the governesses". He had been so wrong. It was Georg, himself, who was the source of the problem. Captain Von Trapp was apparently his own worst enemy and had utterly failed his children.
In addition to needing Fraulein Maria's help, Georg also wanted her to stay. He had been fighting whatever 'this' was for almost 2 weeks – since the day she roared into their lives. He wanted to know more about her, how she had managed it all, where she came from, why she cared so much...
Georg was not a superstitious man on land, but he certainly was on the water. He smiled widely whenever dolphins swam alongside his ship, he never stirred his tea with a knife or a fork, and he had a rooster and a pig tattooed on his feet [1]. Although his rooster and pig were firmly planted on the ground, Georg's head had often been in the clouds these past 10 days and he had become fixated with the symbolism and meaning in everyday things. So very strange...
Georg initially struggled with the meaning of the dream with Agathe and Fraulein Maria in the garden. It was so poignant and sharp in his mind even now; it had to mean something? What about the Pallas Athene fountain and his fixation on the River Inn? Why the mountains and not the Pannonian Plain or the Danube Valley? And then, there was the girl with the copper hair...Fraulein Maria's doppelgänger...the one who was wrapped in blue silk outside of the Banhoff? He had found that same fabric (or similar, he was a man after all...what did he know about fabric?) in the window of a seamstress' shop along the Eschenbachgasse? That same bolt of fabric which was safely tucked away in the cupboard in his study?
How could a woman with whom he had spent so little time with wield such influence in his life, occupying his thoughts for days straight? Especially when he was so close to proposing to Elsa? There had to be more to this, there were just too many things that had piled up in so little time to be coincidental. He needed to find out why.
Georg cringed to think he once had thought of her as a mere girl – Fraulein Maria was as worthy of any of his past ship mates, even though having her onboard a vessel would be considered bad luck (unless she was naked, of course! [2]). Max had once thrown him a life buoy and saved his life – and now it was Fraulein Maria who had thrown him another. He knew he had to take hold with all his might and make the most of this opportunity.
As he looked out across the surface of the lake, of course, he could admit it out loud now. He was attracted to her, and he was from the very start. When she appeared in the foyer 10 days ago dressed in a grey sack dress and a fireman's hat, he found her blue eyes mesmerizing, her slender neck enticing, and experience told him that there was even more that she was hiding away. At first it was just a physical attraction, but ever since she sat on that damn pinecone and he saw her sparkling blue eyes filled with mirth and mystery, she intrigued him. He needed to know more.
Georg smiled as he thought back to their argument earlier that day. No longer a drowned rat of a governess, hardly a mere slip of a girl...this was a woman whose chest heaved as she passionately defended his children. In her sodden state, her womanly figure all at once became so clear to him and it aroused him to no end. Just thinking about her set off fireworks in his entire body, sparks he had not felt for years. Images of the dripping wet governess haunted him even now. What was happening to him? It must be all the dreams he had endured while in Vienna. That was a logical explanation, wasn't it?
And then the moment they had shared in the drawing room after the children scattered to get ready for dinner. The little Fraulein had read him like a book, stopping to offer him comfort. Her actions tweaked something inside his heart. At that moment, he felt something greater than lust, more dimensional than intrigue...and she had already earned his respect during their argument earlier that day. Fraulein Maria possessed an incredible capacity to love unconditionally: in the space of one afternoon, she had argued with him as if they were enemy combatants, but in the next breath, she offered her full love and support to him and his family.
He wistfully looked back towards his bed. He smiled as he recalled the innumerable evenings he spent in that bed, wrapped up in bliss in the arms of his beloved Agathe. The days when they had fought the hardest always ended up in nights of extraordinary passion. Could that be what was triggering these feelings?
He turned his right hand over in the palm of his left in the fading light of the moon, rubbing his thumb across the surface. He could still feel the little Fraulein's dainty hand in his after he had asked her to shake and start over. In some crazy way, he wondered if a fresh start would help him shake these feelings he had for her, but he realized those actions had done very little to solve a problem like Maria.
Was he playing with fire? Would forging a parenting relationship with her make things better or more complicated? The realization that she would return to the Abbey at the end of the summer seemed to settle his nerves. She had a chosen path, although he cringed to think of her locked up in that medieval Stift. Besides, Maria was obviously considerably younger than he was, and he was practically betrothed to Elsa Schraeder?
It could be a win-win situation. The little Fraulein could help him regain the trust of the children, and perhaps he could convince her that there was more to life. Perhaps he could teach her some things about the world and convince her that her gifts would be wasted in an Abbey. After everything she had accomplished in ten days, certainly she could see that she had more to offer the world? She could live a fulfilling life, find herself a husband, and she could give him babies, he sighed wistfully. Maria would be an incredible mother; he just had a sense.
And yet, for some reason, Georg cringed at the thought of Maria being with another man. Maybe the Abbey was the best place for her, after all?
However, since she was promised to God, his conscience would protect her. She may be as tempting as a Siren, but as a hardened sailor, he knew he had the capacity to be strong. To not give in. He could not bear the thought of hurting her in anyway, not after everything she had done for him.
In an attempt to release some tension, Georg wove his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye he spotted movement on the landing. His eyes quickly narrowed in on the dark figure moving about the dappled moonlight. He smiled widely as he realized that the little Fraulein wasn't doing much sleeping herself tonight. She weaved in and out of the shadows before resting her hands on the railing. He could see the outline of Gustav and Franz flanking her slim figure and his eyes traced a line running from the jut of her hip, up and along her arm, across her fingers, back along the top of her arm and over her shoulders, following the slope of her neck to her hairline. He swallowed hard.
Although she was bathed in shadow, he could tell she was looking up at the mountain – the great hulk that was the Untersberg, which at that moment was slowly swallowing the moon. He wondered what she was thinking about. She obviously had a connection with the mountain. Was she thinking about today? Was she still afraid she had over-stepped? Could she be thinking about her future? Could she be thinking about him?
That lithe figure in the shadows - Georg owed her so much. All these hours later, his life had fundamentally changed. He had his family back, and it was the most glorious feeling. He felt reborn. Somehow the Black Sheep of Nonnberg had managed to unravel the knots of the tapestry of his life without Agathe, leaving a pile of wool shreds on the ground. However, not only did Fraulein Maria gather them up and spin them into new threads, but she had also cast on the stitches of his new life, and he just had to continue her work.
He literally owed her his life – she had given him his family back. Had she been a comrade in the war, he would have awarded her the Tapferkeitsmedaille [3]. Not just for making his see the errors of his ways, but for being brave enough to tell him just what a damn fool he had been.
He smiled as he watched the governess make her way back up the stairs and into the villa. Georg quickly walked over to his bedroom door and opened it a crack. He heard the back terrace door open and then close again, followed by the light patter of her feet across the foyer floor and up the stairs. As she made her way to her side of the villa, her steps became progressively quieter until he could no longer hear her. He stepped out into the hallway and craned his neck to somehow hear better, but it was no use. The villa was quiet once more.
Georg closed the door and leaned his back against the inside. He took a deep breath and released it slowly before making his way back to bed.
Things had been such a whirlwind today. Georg hadn't had too much time to chat with the little Fraulein after dinner, but they agreed to meet tomorrow morning in his study after breakfast. To develop a plan for the children, of course. He tried to convince himself that was all, and it had nothing to do with the struggle he endured for 10 days as he tried to understand the emotions she stirred in him – they had been haunting him even before today's events had transpired.
As Georg pushed off his slippers with his heels, he sat down on the side of the bed. He pulled open the side table drawer and pulled out a book. Giving the bed-side lamp chain a gentle tug, the lamp sputtered to life and a warm glow filled the room. As his eyes adjusted to the changing light, he looked down at the book sitting in his lap: a compilation of sailing folklore.
He leafed through the pages organized alphabetically until he came to the entry he was looking for: Sirens. Half beautiful maiden, half delicate bird (or lion, depending on the representation). Regardless of her form, she was one hundred percent temptation.
On this specific page there was a reprint of a famous painting of "The Sirens and Ulysses" by William Etty. He had a framed version of this very print in his study – Agathe had given it to him shortly after their engagement. Since Etty was an English painter, she thought it was an appropriate gift. He recalled her telling him that Etty's original artwork had begun to deteriorate soon after it was completed in 1837, and so it was stored in the archives of the Royal Manchester Institution.
The painting was set in the churning ocean – the faint outline of a mountain was shrouded by billowing clouds. Smiling, he noted it was like the scene that had unfolded the night the little Fraulein arrived at the villa. In the background, there was a ship, and the larger-than-life Ulysses was struggling to keep another of his men from giving into temptation. On an island in the foreground, there were three Sirens singing and frolicking amongst the gruesome remains of at least a half-dozen sailors. In this painting, Etty had chosen to paint the Sirens as naked women rather than in the traditional chimera form. One was brunette, the other a red head, and the Siren in the middle, well, she had copper hair, her long legs swathed in a beige and green sash.
Georg tapped his index finger repeatedly on the exposed back of the little temptress with the copper hair. That one right there reminded him of her. He suspected that this image was the one that fueled his lust-filled dreams of her over the past 10 days. How else could he have imagined what the little governess would look like naked? As he studied the picture, he wondered if Fraulein Maria had freckles everywhere.
Georg shook himself back to the present as he reminded himself of her vocation. This print would be a constant reminder to him of the perils of falling for a Siren. He laughed to himself as he closed the book and returned it to his bedside table. Indeed, his relationship with the little Fraulein would be strictly business! "Think of the children, Georg!", he chided himself.
Turning off the light, Georg rolled onto his side in his bed and pulled the covers over his hips. He gathered the pillow from Agathe's side of the bed once more and tucked it under his chin. As he closed his eyes, he did not drift back to happier times with Agathe as he was wont to do. Instead, he reflected once more on the copper-haired Siren in the book. While she was a metaphysical temptation depicted in art, she shared many features with the real one that had recently barreled into his life. Young, strong, fiery, passionate, and possessed a beautiful voice.
He, Georg, was metaphorically the great Ulysses: strong and focused on the life he had planned. Tethered to his ship and bound to the mast. Certainly, there was no harm in allowing himself the pleasure of her voice without ensuring his demise? [4] He could forge a working partnership with the little Fraulein if it meant getting his feet back under him with respect to the children and laying the foundation for a new life with Elsa by his side.
As he slowly drifted off, Georg reflected on how quickly things could turn around, whether on land or sea. To be sailing through a beautiful summer day that is all at once swallowed by a storm. His life had changed suddenly in his youth, his bachelor life happily transformed with the love of his life by his side and eventually, their seven children had entered their lives. How quickly it had all been cruelly snatched away. His ship had run aground the day she died.
Today, the tides had turned yet again, set in motion by the deliberate choice of a wise old woman at the Abbey. Ten days ago, the Reverend Mother had sent him the Black Sheep of Nonnberg. Their initial meeting had been stormy, but like the Siren in the picture, he was drawn to her for reasons he could not completely understand. This afternoon, the little governess had pushed the storm clouds away and his path became clearer.
It was all because of her.
And unlike her doppelgänger in Etty's painting, the Siren with the copper hair: Fraulein Maria - had quite literally saved his life rather than ending it, and for that, he would be eternally grateful.
[1] Pig and rooster tattoos on the feet were considered good luck and would prevent a sailor from drowning. Presumably, since neither can swim, if the ship went down, these are two animals that would want to get back to shore ASAP. A more logical explanation is that the wooden crates that held livestock on ships would serve as a flotation device in the event that the ship sank the men went overboard ( )
[2] In sailing folklore/superstition, it was considered bad luck to have a woman on board a ship unless she was naked. It was thought that naked women 'calmed the waters', and thus, it was very common for sea faring vessels to have a figurehead of a naked or partially-clothed woman
[3] Wikipedia says the Medal for Bravery was created by Emperor Joseph on 19 July 1789 in order to recognize courage in combat by personnel below commissioned rank
[4] in a translation of the Odyssey by Samuel Butler (Book XII, online via MIT) states the following about giving into the desire to listen to the Sirens: "...but if you like you can listen yourself, for you may get the men to bind you as you stand upright on a cross-piece half way up the mast, and they must lash the rope's ends to the mast itself, that you may have the pleasure of listening. If you beg and pray the men to unloose you, then they must bind you faster."
