Chapter 17: The Next Step

Salzburg, Saturday, March 1933

Maria was pacing, just trying to stay out of the way of the people around her. People with someplace to go, not just waiting— She spun around again, wandering back the other way, reaching up for the tail end of her braid—then yanked her hands away, knotting them in her dress instead. Glancing down, Maria frowned. These were the best shoes she owned, her boots now unnecessary since the snow was gone for the year and it was warm enough that she wasn't worried about her calves blooming with goose pimples even through thick socks. But they were scuffed, nicks acquired here and there over the years, she'd worn them for so long. At least I grew early. I don't think Uncle Josef would have wanted to buy me another pair after these, and I could barely afford the second pair on my own. She glanced down again. But they do look nicer than the ones I bought those first days I was here. So maybe you did do something nice for me once.

She leaned back against the brick wall—then pulled herself away from it. She didn't want any of the dust on her coat when Georg came to take her...well, she didn't quite know where he was taking her, not really. Maybe she could slip her coat so she could rest against the wall, and it might be too warm in an hour or two anyway. Perhaps she even had the time to run up the stairs to hang it in her wardrobe; it might be too warm for it an hour or two. And Georg might enjoy seeing her without it—

Maria hissed, just opening and fastening the lowest button again, her fingers suddenly twitching. Except, the ponds she remembered from Vienna parks when she could escape her uncle's house for an hour or two...It was always a little colder right on the edge than in the rest of the park, and a proper lake...No, she needed to keep it, even if she had to open the buttons eventually. She glanced down, the last few inches of her dress peeking out. It was the only one she had left before she needed to scrub them clean in her bathtub. She hated the little wrinkles at the hem where her needle had slipped, she remembered yawning as she sewed late into the night in her college's dormitory. Georg probably wouldn't notice, he hadn't on Thursday—it was the same one she had worn the latter half of the week—but he likely wouldn't notice that, either. The fabric was pilling as well, and he certainly hadn't seen that either, or perhaps he was…

She sighed, closing her eyes. With the world gone for a moment, it was suddenly Thursday evening again. Maria could see his eyes gleaming the fading sunlight—feel his hands anchoring her against him until she felt the bricks digging into her shoulders and backside, the ache on the front of her chest—the heat she had learned to pray against—and...I think I know what else I felt, Georg, and I don't know if I could ever tell you. How would you look at me if you realized I knew what it was—it was only the most basic classes in college. And even though you always seem to be so serious, I think you would be upset that I did realize.

Maria opened her eyes, squinting for a second, already feeling her heart and breath racing. "Will it always be like this when I'm waiting for you—just thinking about you, Georg?" Somehow, it always seemed that it could never change since that second evening. "I know all I wanted to do was pray for you that first night, you seemed so unhappy. But you don't seem that unhappy anymore." She bit down on her lip. "I'm sorry, Father, I know that's pride, thinking perhaps he's just always happy to see me."

She shook her head as she stifled a yawn, trying to remember what she had been thinking about before Georg overwhelmed her as he so often did. Dresses, that was right. The fabric on this one was pilling, too many mornings and afternoons on a bouncing bus under the coat she had had for years, the good wool catching and tearing at the cheaper fabric. It wouldn't be too hard to make another, simply cutting the fabric along the lines of one of the her other dresses. I wonder what sort of fabric you would like, I think if you said, I would try to find it, so long as I could afford it. And it might be nice to wear something new for you. And I would be careful with the hem, this time.

Maria fell back against the wall again. Thursday...Her hand immediately wandered up to her neck, beneath the long braid of hair that had hung over her shoulder yesterday, no matter how the other teachers at her school looked at her and shook their heads. The little bruise Georg had left on her skin was already fading—wasn't even that bad, if she was honest—but she would certainly burn with embarrassment if anyone saw it, let alone asked how she came to have it.

The blush was on her cheeks already. Thursday had been running through her mind endlessly even after she finally managed to sleep that night, reliving her first kiss every time she closed her eyes. Even last night—even as she struggled to focus on her chalkboard when it was time for the day's mathematics lesson—it was still all she could think of. Even when one of her students called her name...it was just the taste of his cigarettes flooding her own mouth that she could think of. "It couldn't have been anyone else, Georg," she murmured, licking her lips. She could still remember how they felt, faintly rough as he held her own for that brief second. Oh...No one else, Georg. Sometimes, she wasn't certain it had been real or if she had imagined it, summoning it out of thin air.

"I'd die of shame if you knew the things I saw last night, Mother." Every time she managed to sleep, she'd found herself in his arms, naked and gasping for air as she caught her fingers on his shirt's collar, ready to peel it away and finally see the muscles that must lay underneath— And then finally waking in her own bed, her nightgown and the sheets too hot to stand as the threw the quilt aside and pulled her legs up to her chest, her fingers clenching the old sheet that covered her mattress. But even as she tried to calm her raging heartbeat, Maria still closed her eyes again, almost grinning as she returned to a bed she didn't know, a little closer to opening that top button and exposing his skin to her touch—but still never quite to the end of that desperate dream.

She had to fall back against the brick wall again, a woman with a basket laden with groceries tucked into her elbow hurrying past her. "I just can't help but wonder, what will today be like?" she murmured, reaching up for the end of her braid. "Do you even know, Georg?" She had taken longer to shower last night—not that it really mattered, she had sweated so much through the night—and even trimmed the most ragged bits of her hair again. Maria blushed: it was the second time she had done that just for him.

She tugged her coat a little closer against a quick gust of wind, shivering as it bit at her face for a moment. "Where are you?" Stepping forward into the narrow walk, she glanced either way, only seeing a few cars around the bus making its way along the road. It was always so calm on Saturday mornings, nothing like the mornings she was always worrying over arriving at her classroom on time, her bag of papers and whatever she managed to pack for her lunch swinging as she frequently ran after the little bus. But I wouldn't even know where you are, if you're in your car. She stepped back—already remembering...Your arms did feel so nice. She tightened her arms around her belly, already struggling to ignore the heat boiling in her stomach. She couldn't remember the time from her father's watch, she had been too anxious when she woke this morning. Eight, that was what Georg had said, she remembered that. But I remember everything about you, Georg.

Maria tightened her finger in the still worn end of her plait. How do you always do this to me? I was just as nervous that first Sunday, I was so eager to see you and I didn't know why. I still don't quite know why. Everything you make me feel...She sighed, a sudden itch blooming on the bottom of her left foot, probably a little sweat soaking into her woolen sock. Shifting her weight onto her right foot, she lifted herself up, twisting and grinding the sole of her shoe into the pavement. The sweat was catching on her dress's collar as well. I don't know if you'll...She sighed again."If I was wise, Georg, I know I would turn myself around and run right back up those stairs...Almost as quickly as I hurried down them this morning."

She wandered forward again, peering either way through the little stream of pedestrians. Still no sign of him. And now, back to the wall, the wool of her coat catching on the rough brick. It's almost like that first Sunday, waiting for you after church at the gardens. Not knowing if—

"Maria?"

She jerked her head to the left, somehow already hoping even though she knew it wasn't him calling her name. It was a woman's voice—but who else knew who she was, knew her name? Still a little ways down the block, someone waved at her—greying hair in a tight bun as always, wearing the same coat as always—and Maria smiled. She hadn't seen Johanna for ages, it felt. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you coming this way."

The older woman wrapped her free arm around her shoulders, the wicker basket in the crook of her elbow scratching at Maria's hand as it swung. "I don't know why you would worry about it."

Shaking her head, Maria slipped from the loose embrace, her eyes darting past Johanna* and into the crowd. "I'm waiting for…" She still couldn't quite find him. "Just a friend."

Johanna shook her head, now catching her arm around Maria's waist, spinning her around and beginning to pull her along as she continued along the road. "Well, you should be inside." Now gazing the other way along the street, she was almost trying to stand on the very tips of her toes with every step, desperate to peer over the head of every man coming their way, so many of them wearing hats that left them even taller. "Winter might have broken, but you'll catch a cold if you're outside for too long."

Maria shook her head as she stumbled ahead, now firmly back on her feet rather than her toes.I don't want to see him with my nose bleeding if I fall on my face."No, I told him I would meet him right here—"

Johanna's arm tightened around her waist, bringing them to a halt and her hand twisting Maria around to look right at her. "Him?"

She felt the burn across her face already—wishing she could squirm out of the older woman's hold, but her arm was too tight. "Well, yes—"

"You talked about him before, I think."

All she wanted to do was twist her fingers into her hair—even the very end of her braid, something to distract her from the nerves starting to boil in her stomach. I know it's only been a day that I haven't seen you, but it feels like so much longer. "Yes. I didn't mean to walk into him either time—it was the darkest part of winter—but he really is very kind"—Maria paused for a breath, she was talking so fast—"I think he was just tired—or something happened that day—he's been so much kinder when we see one another on Sundays—"

"And I remember you stumbling over your words that evening just like you are now, even while your hand was bleeding, now I think I know how much he was distracting you." Maria nodded, though her face was already back up, her eyes peering into the crowd. She still couldn't find him. Please tell me you won't be late, I don't know what time it is, and I try to be on time for you— "You like him, don't you?"

I don't know why was worried over having a bloody nose, now, Maria thought, finally struggling against Johanna's hold. I'm sure I'm so red, it looks as though I was slapped across the face again.

Johanna loosened her arm and Maria tore away from her. She couldn't stand the basket scratching at her any longer and Johanna just shook her head, the silver knot of hair wobbling as she did. "There's no need to blush, dear. You're a very sweet girl, and I've told you before, you're quite attractive, though…" She reached for the braid over Maria's shoulder, frowning as she looked at the worn ends. "Maybe not with your hair in that ragged braid."

"I trimmed it yesterday!"

"You're still much nicer when you have it up properly, even if it's not much more than what I do."

But no one can see, Maria thought, her fingers caught in her dress before they drifted up to that mark. It had always been small and it was already fading—the edges transforming to a pallid yellow and the purple in the middle now turning grey. I can't be the only person this has happened to, I know that, but it would be too humiliating—

"Maria? You've gone quiet."

"I had to…"

"What?"

Maria closed her eyes, suddenly in Georg's arms again, drinking in his kisses whether they were pressed to her mouth—her jaw—her neck, she had lost track of where he had wandered. "Please don't worry about it, Johanna." She glanced up the way Johanna had come; she still didn't quite know where he would come from, only that...I know you'll be here. And it will be you, and not you, Lukas. She shivered, her arms suddenly around her stomach as she fell back to the brick wall, hardly missing another woman with her own shopping basket in her arms.

Johanna reached for her, catching her arm and pulling her away from the scratchy masonry. "You'll scratch your coat doing that, and I don't think you can afford a new one." She frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Maria shivered again, not resisting the older woman's grasp dragging her back to the edge of the stream of pedestrians. "No." You said that Georg must want something from me, but I think I want it as well. "Can—may I ask you something?"

Johanna nodded, her hand dropping from Maria's arm. "Of course."

She hadn't really thought about him these last couple of days, she had been too preoccupied with Georg and...everything churning in her mind and body to think about much else. Whether she was in her classroom struggling to mark her students' papers or her room, sifting through the past as she daydreamed about the strange man Georg was. Unable to stop wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him. She hoped he was, certainly more than...Maria didn't even like to think his name, let alone say it out loud. "He lives somewhere—with us."

Johanna's face tightened, almost as though she was confused. Bending down, she settled her basket on the pavement. "I didn't think he did, the way you talked about him—"

"Georg?"

She nodded before taking a moment to loosen a couple of the top buttons of her own long coat. "You'll have to forgive me, Maria, I think it's a little too warm for what either of us are wearing this morning."

"Not where I'm going."

"You can't be that sure, child, you hardly know where you are now." Her neighbor opened another coat button, finding a handkerchief in her pocket and wiping it around the back of her neck, probably to mop away some of the sweat Maria was already feeling against her own collar. "But yes, isn't it him you mean?"

Maria reached for the end of her plait, her fingers already knotted through the very ends, her cut a little more uneven than she wished. "No, it's not Georg—though I don't think he lives that far from here, if he could…" She bit her lip hard. Sometimes, she wondered if Johanna thought she was looking for a mother rather than a friend, she scolded her so much at times. "But, he's almost my age. Lukas, he says he works in a florist's shop. Do you know him?"

"No, I can't say that I've ever met him. Why?"

Her fingers were churning through her hair faster than ever. "He…" Her heart was pounding faster than it ever had when Georg was near, but...there was no happiness in it. Not fear, not really, but how did a few moments with a boy only a few years older leave her so unsettled. Uneasy, really. "I've never wanted to talk to him, not really, but I suppose he's nice enough. At least…"

Johanna reached for her hand again, tugging one away from her braid. "You best keep that coat on, Maria, you're cold enough as it is without trying to take a chill as well. But is something wrong?"

"No!" She snatched her hand away, this time knotting it together with her other behind her back, desperate to keep her fingers from shaking. The way he had looked at her that last Sunday, some strange mixture of disgust—she recognized it well from her childhood—and nearly...hunger. "But he didn't let me leave the kitchen the last time he saw me. Until he made sure to tell me...It's not quite how he said it, but how could I think—Georg doesn't want something from me."

Johanna just sighed, reaching down for wicker basket, a few of the wooden straws frayed at the corners, like she had owned it since she first left her parents' house. "You are so young, Maria," she murmured, pulling her closer to the front door of their boarding house, "and I don't think you have much experience with men, I think I told you that before."

Even as she tried to protest, the older woman was stronger, her hold too strong. "No, but I don't think he's—like that. I've—met men like that, and he's not. Not at all."

Johanna pulled them out of the way of a few more pedestrians, still far less than Maria expected on any other day, even a Sunday! At least then, everyone seems to be heading to church rather than the market. I suppose there's more time for the shops than there are chances to talk to God. "Your head always seems to be in the clouds the few times I've heard you talk about him. You'll have to come down from the mountaintop someday."

"But…" This time, Maria twisted her toes roughly on the sidewalk, enough to bring Johanna to a halt. "All he ever seems to do is try to look out for me."

Her wrinkled face tightened again, almost...as though she was disappointed. "Look out for you? I can't think you even really know him."

"I know enough—and when I couldn't…" She still had a few of those final coins in her pocket, the fifteen schillings he had roughly shoved into her hand somehow stretching over almost an entire month—more, since she still had a few left to spend—even when she allowed herself a few niceties she had never really known before. Somehow, I think you would be happy I did, if you really mean what you told me—

"What?"

Maria crashed back into Saturday, Thursday almost in the same place suddenly already a memory fading away. "I don't want to talk about it," she whispered, her hand suddenly in her pocket, turning over those small, cold coins. "And why should I tell you, I hardly know you, either!"

"Did something happen—you just said—"

"No!" She couldn't stop herself, her hands wandering up the long braid—pulling it away from her shoulder, a sudden cool gust of air on her skin—

"Oh, Maria," she sighed, suddenly reaching out and pushing away what was left of the braid hiding her neck as it had since Thursday evening when she first spotted it in her tiny rippling mirror. "I thought you had more sense than that."

"Sense?" She felt the burn instantly, so strong it must already be creeping down well past the bit of neck Johanna had spied. Maria clapped a palm over the mark; if no one else saw it, she could still pretend it simply wasn't real. "It just happened," she whispered, scratching at her skin.

"That's how it usually does."

Maria forced her fingers to still. She couldn't quite scrape it away, she knew that, but even if she could peel it away like a scab when she fell out of a tree when she was a child, it wouldn't change anything about what haunted her. "But he was just being kind—well, I don't know Thursday, but that day he was—"

"Are you sure you don't really see—"

"No, he's not like that!" Maria glanced down the street the way she thought she had seen him walk on Thursday, but there were too many women with shopping baskets just like Johanna's. I don't think you'll be late, you've told me I never am for you, she thought, standing on her toes and trying to peer over top the knots of hair, scarves, and even a few delicate hats with flowers and ribbons. "Or at least…" She dropped back down. "I won't let him be like that."

Johanna shook her head yet again, finally turning to the front door to their building. "You might not be able to change his mind—"

"What?"

"I told you, you don't know much about men."

"Well, yes, even my Uncle Josef made sure I—"

"And what are you going on about now?"

She spun to the deep tenor of his voice, her heart suddenly racing and her breathing growing quicker. "Georg!" She couldn't understand why she adored him so much, everything about him. The hair that had finally turned wild beneath her fingers before she disentangled herself from his embrace, the tiny pocks along his cheeks she had never quite seen—she had seen the scar beneath his lower lip often enough as she wondered how they would feel, and then immediately wished she could fall to her knees and beg forgiveness if only she could truly want it. "I didn't expect you just now—"

"You knew I was coming, darling," he said softly, one arm already draped over her shoulders, "I don't know why you're so surprised."

"No, I was waiting for you—and then we were talking and I just lost myself—"

"You always do."

Johanna coughed gently, and the flush that had gone from Maria's face when she first heard Georg's voice was burning again. How do you do this to me, Georg, every time?"I'm sorry, Maria, but I think I should go, now," she said, reaching out to squeeze Maria's arm one last time. She saw Johanna's eyes dart up to Georg's face, probably wondering...exactly what Lukas had. But then to her again with a little smile. "But remember what I just told you." She nodded—at Georg, Maria supposed—before twisting the knob on the ancient door and slipping into darkened hall before it slammed closed on the cracking wooden threshold.

"And who was that?" Georg asked, guiding her along the road, to where...well she didn't quite know.

"One of my neighbors, that's all."

"Somehow, I didn't believe she was anything else."

Maria didn't fight against his grip, just letting him pull her along. It sent a shiver down her spine, just leaving her wishing she had run up the stairs to leave her coat, even if she might regret it in a few hours."She's a teacher, too, and sometimes I ask her for help when I'm not sure what to do."

"At least she isn't just a few years older than her students."

"Georg—"

"I'm sorry, darling." He peered down at her: her coat buttoned tight around her waist, her pale braid draped over her shoulder. I'm sure you're fine enough in your classroom, but...I wouldn't let you teach Liesl anything, you're young enough to be her sister.

Maria skipped over a piece of sidewalk jutting upwards, still rough after some small roiling of the earth beneath the cement and cobblestones. "I thought you had said you would stop that," she murmured. "But I don't think…"

"What?"

"I don't think I can be too annoyed with you. Thank you, even though I don't know where we're going today."

"It's the only time today, I'll promise you."

"Thank you."

"You just said that."

"I know, but—"

"Don't worry over it, Maria."

It was an intersection approaching, battered cars dusted with rust groaning as they went on their way. Her heart was almost pounding against her ribs, she loved hearing him say her name. Even if she glanced up, all she saw was the bottom of his jaw. He wasn't that much taller than she was, but she didn't quite meet the bottom of his chin. She didn't mind that much, either she loved how sharp his jaw was. But she missed seeing his eyes. There's just something about you, Georg, I don't understand it. His hand tightened around her middle as the traffic stopped, she wouldn't have been able to get away if she wanted.

"I was just waiting for you," she said as she gulped down a yawn. "She was coming back from her weekly shopping and we just started talking—and you were the one who was late today—but I know I've been so much later to things—"

"You don't need to say anything else." Georg pushed her through the intersection, it wasn't that much farther until he found where he parked the car when he returned from Aigen on a week ago. He missed the convertible that the chauffeur and mechanic were probably enjoying driving whenever they had errands on warm days, but at least no one in Salzburg would actually care to break the lock apart. It was a little too old, a little too battered, bore a few too many dents

"You do always manage to be on time for me, even if it sounds like you rarely are for anything else. But I just had to stop to send a telegram on the way."

She slumped against him when he paused, waiting for the next round of traffic to stop as they turned. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Georg murmured, "just something I needed to look after."

Elsa's telegram had burned in his pocket the entire drive back from Aigen, his hand diving for it more than once along the road as the sun finally rose behind him. The windows were rolled up tight as he twisted the steering wheel to follow the road to Salzburg that he could hardly see. Only the faintest hint of a breeze crept through the ancient seal around the window, it was just air that had followed him in before he slammed the door against all the memories. The household car had seen many a storm, but the chauffeur had always looked after the convertible a little better than the one merely used for errands. I suppose I should be grateful, even if only does it for his salary and a room over the garage. And he had needed days before he could finally send her a short answer. "I don't know when I'll be in Vienna again STOP There's too much to look after in Salzburg right now STOP" It was almost true.

Tucked under his arm, Maria shivered despite her coat, her hand up against her face again . Georg knew she was yawning as he heard her struggle to swallow it down. Don't tempt me with that lovely mouth, darling, you tasted so lovely when I finally couldn't stop myself, and...I don't think you would need that much persuasion to do more with it. He nearly stumbled himself, his body taut and stiff as he suddenly couldn't banish the vision of her mouth wide open and a long moan erupting from her throat. I suppose it would be your turn to drag me to my feet if you could manage, though I don't think you could.

She almost fell alongside him, perhaps for once righting him. "Georg? What—"

"Don't worry about it." I wouldn't make you do anything, darling. I suspect someone did, once, or you were afraid it would happen. You did run away from Vienna and everyone you know, no matter how you phrase it. But I think if I asked to make love to you, you wouldn't wait a minute. He pulled her closer, the car just a few feet along the road as he guided them through the early morning cluster of shoppers and children running along to the nearest park. (Georg still didn't quite know where to find one, it sometimes still seemed too open, ready to leave him exposed to too many people who remembered the war.) Not even for a second, I think, I remember you shaking when I finally kissed you."Too early for you?" And...Whenever he closed his eyes, now, all her limbs were tangled around him, her naked body trembling beneath him.

Even with his arm wrapped around her, his body heat bleeding through her coat, Maria shook her head. "No, I just couldn't…"

"What?"

"I couldn't sleep very well last night. I thought I wasn't feeling well to start—"

"Don't say that!" Georg snapped, nearly tripping again as he brought them to a halt. Not you as well.

Maria's eyes were wide, and now she almost backed away from him, her fingers tangled in that long braid he didn't understand but always loved to see her wear. I love it on you, Maria, he thought as he reached one hand out to her. It's just like her— No.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't." Georg shoved his hand into his pocket for his keyring. It was so heavy, sometimes: chunky keys to the various doors to the house in Aigen, the ones he needed for his flat—he rarely locked the door when he left, he had taken everything that mattered to the villa the last time he endured a visit—the deposit box in Vienna. The next time he drove north, Elsa would probably hand him a key to her townhouse. "I don't want to worry over you, that's all."

"Why would you? Everyone has times they don't feel well and I suppose I was just tired—"

"I'll decide that for myself." He had found the keys, had them in his hand in the cool morning air as he twisted them through his fingers to find the one to open the door to the car. "If you ever find yourself sick, time's not your friend, darling." Only if it happens to be that...No, he couldn't even consider it, the children would despise him. But I can't even stand to look at you right now—

"You're talking in riddles—"

He reached out for her again to drag her from the dirty brick wall, whatever she was struggling to say dying as crushed her to him—wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her hard against him as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. She softened, turning her face up toward his—pushing herself up into him and rising onto her toes just like...Georg knew exactly what she was wanting. "Not here, Maria," he whispered, already hearing a passerby sigh—then tsk tsk—with disapproval. A woman, if the high timbre of the voice was to be believed.

Every moment with Maria, Georg tried to ignore the thoughts he knew must be swirling in the thoughts of every person who saw them together. The times he couldn't resist holding her hand—snaring her with his arm and refusing to let her go—the moment everything had at last boiled over and left him powerless to resist what must surely be her virgin mouth. I do know how it looks, darling, even if it seems you don't care any moment I touch you. "I think you would already be red in the face if I did," he whispered. "Even though you're quite lovely. But it's just here."

Maria was a little surprised by the car: taller and less sleek than the ones she was used to. Or at least she told herself that, not even her uncle had owned a car when she was in Vienna, certainly not her foster mother. Her uncle always grumbled when a particularly nice one rolled past on the streets amid the buses he despised boarding when his destination was too far to walk. It looked nice enough, when she considered the ones she saw when she peered out the window on the bus each weekday, never too proud even if it would save her a few coins each day. "I don't know much about them—"

"What does that mean?"

"I think you like nice things, that's all. And I can see all the dents already." She bent down, pushing her coat away as she crouched and knocked her legs onto the ground, the blood already roiling in her head. She hadn't managed to eat breakfast that morning, too anxious to see Georg. But she was already fascinated—even confused as she noticed scratches in the paint. "You said the navy was good to you—"

Georg laughed, tucking his arms under hers and pulling her up and back against him. "And you just said you didn't have much experience with them. How would you know?"

"I see them going past on the road!"

He snorted. "There's quite a lot to see on the streets of Salzburg, I don't think you can quite have an opinion on all of it."

"I can, I can see—"

"I know you must be smart, darling, but you don't have experience."

"Experience? With cars?"

"No, just…" It was wafting through his vision again like a dream he could hardly see through an early morning fog, Maria's tiny legs wide open for him. A dream he was desperate to clutch like a handful of water until it slipped away through his fingers. I don't want to tell you, I think you would be horrified, even though...His body was aching again with just the thought of her spreading her thighs—

"What's wrong? You said nothing was, but—"

Georg wrenched the left front door open, nearly shoving her into the passenger seat. She hadn't expected it, he supposed, hearing her gasp—then a hiss of pain as he slid his hand around her waist and pushed her down onto the worn and torn fabric. "Georg, don't—" Maria winced as she pulled her legs in. She was suddenly missing the longer stockings she had worn for so many months as the wind as she hit one of her calves against the frame. "Please don't, that hurt."

"I'm sorry," he whispered...and suddenly unable to resist, he kissed her, her jaw caught in his hand to hold her still. He had to hear the little moans escaping her throat, one finger drifting down along her neck—her skin so thin, he felt every bump along the way But I know you wouldn't try to get away from me. When he finally pulled away from her—just a little—he felt her panting against his cheek. His breath certainly stank of his first cigarette of the day, but he couldn't even smell a trace of coffee from her mouth. "Sometimes, I just think you need someone to look after you."

"I've been looking after myself since I...left for college." Maria reached down to scratch at her calf, that itch now creeping up along her leg.

"That isn't the point." He stepped back from the car for a moment as an ancient man stumbled on a cobblestone, reaching out to straighten the man. His face was lined and dark, almost like he might have been one of the enlisted sailors he had commanded for so many years.

Maria pushed herself up on her hands, trying to follow the man. "Is he all right?"

Turning back to her, Georg nodded. "He just stumbled." And then, he let himself laugh for a second, stepping back toward her. "I spent years…"

"What is it?"

I can't tell you more than I already have. "Nothing. He just tripped like you seem to enjoy doing."

Her cheeks were already burning, certainly covered with a harsh blush. And not...She couldn't really afford it, anything from the little cosmetics shelf when she went to the chemist's when she had a headache. But I think it would be nice if I could. Just...I would still wonder what you would think of me and...She winced. I know what else he would say if—

"Maria?"

"I'm sorry, I was just distracted." She sighed, enjoying the second she had now to stare up at him. "And—why do you always say things like that?"

He smiled, the back of one hand running along her cheek—seeing and feeling how she pushed herself into his touch. No, you'll never leave me, I think. "It's just all the more reason to look after you." Leaning down one more time, Georg kissed her again—not missing how her breasts suddenly heaved beneath her coat and what had to be another of her own handmade dresses. "I think you would like if I did."

That separated her from him—and left the blood already pulsing in his groin achingly stubborn in his veins and hurting deep between his legs. I'll have to take you someday, Maria, I just don't know where or when.

"I think...I don't know what you're talking about now," she whispered, peeling her face from his hand. "I'm not silly, I'm just out of my depth. I know you know more than I do."

"Are you that worried about me? You said you weren't."

"No—"

"Are you still that worried over yourself?"

Maria shook her head, just reaching for the handle on the car door. It was greasier than she had expected, she found herself wiping her fingertips together, though she was just spreading the grease around. "No."

"Then what are you doing now?"

"I just didn't expect to feel that right there on the handle. I didn't think that you would like it. You're always so…"

He leaned into her again, her breath on his face. "What?"

"I don't know how to explain it. So clean, and so…"

Georg smiled. "You don't even know what you want to—" He couldn't say anything else, her hand was already around his neck to pull him down to her, her mouth already a little open as she kissed him, the oil slipping on his skin as she clutched him closer.I'll have to talk to my staff—And it was all suddenly gone again, back where it belonged. He finally managed it after a moment, "Maria…"

"I know you have more experience than I do, in...everything."

Georg raised an eyebrow, finally fishing into his pocket for a handkerchief. He normally didn't bother, if it was just him, but who could tell what the boats would look like—and they would certainly merely be boats. "Everything?"

She had to blush again. "I know what I said," she whispered. She ran a finger along his jacket: it was fancier than anything her uncle had ever worn, or even...She giggled for a second.

Georg didn't know what to think. "What now? But clean yourself up first."

"It's nothing." Maria cleaned at the final marks of grease, the handkerchief quickly balled in her other hand. At last, she let a couple of her fingers curl under one of the lapels. "Nothing, just…"

"You know what you want," he whispered against her face. God, he could almost taste her mouth again—imagine what her legs would look and taste like when they were finally open for him: taut and white, fresh and new. "I can't wait for it, darling."

"What? I didn't understand—"

Georg kissed her again. "It doesn't matter." I think you'll understand soon enough.

* It was asked who Johanna is: she's an OC who was last mentioned in chapter 4. She's a neighbor of Maria's and an older teacher she asks for advice, sometimes. Sorry, I forget I'm the only one who knows this thing inside and out.

A/N: Obviously, that's some pretty shady thinking on his part. A pretty big reason why last chapter had to jump back to 1939.