AN: This can be read alone, but it's in the "universe" of my story "Something New," and it follows it. Therefore, if you'd like the more enhanced version, I'd recommend reading that one first. This story is AU and does not include the Ausschluss. If I write anything in the future, I'll never promise to be historically accurate or entirely canon compliant.
I own nothing from the Sound of Music or anything/anyone related to it. This is just a work of fiction for entertainment value.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please consider leaving a comment or review to let me know!
111
Maria had seen a newborn calf struggle to get to its feet, lock its knees for a moment against the instinctual fear of falling and, then, take its first tottering steps on fresh legs.
And that was precisely how she felt as she walked from their home and into the gardens to find the children who had, some short time before, been excused—or, honestly, dismissed—from breakfast, so that Maria and Georg might have time to discuss Georg's concern about Maria's health as of late.
Maria was still what many would call a new bride. She and Georg had only been married just over two months. She was still adjusting to being Georg's wife and the mother to their seven wonderful children.
Maria was still learning what things were expected of her as the so-called lady of the house. She was adjusting to how it felt to be referred to in such a way, and to be treated quite differently in public than she had ever been treated before. She was just beginning to accept that, as Georg's wife, there would be public parties and other such gatherings, where she was expected to keep company with women who were, in many cases, quite a bit older than her and, in all cases, much more experienced at certain social behaviors than she was.
Georg assured her, daily, however, that none of that really mattered. If she muddled this or that, he would love her no less—he promised her that, and she prayed it was true.
Maria never wanted to disappoint Georg. That didn't mean, of course, that she was always in absolute agreement with him. He did tell her, frequently, that she could be contrary, but that being contrary was one of the things that he loved about her. He loved knowing that she would challenge him. He said that it made her agreement that much sweeter, when it happened, because he knew it was never born from simple, complete, and blind obedience.
Still, Maria did try to limit how often she was contrary, saving it only for moments when it mattered most to her that what she thought be heard. And, even when she disagreed with him, Maria never loved Georg any less than with her whole heart and soul. She truly believed that he'd been given to her—this life, the love of her husband, and the family that she was so very blessed to have—all of it had been given to her as a gift from God.
She was, she knew, quite undeserving of such a precious gift, but she was endlessly thankful for it, and determined to never squander it or take it for granted.
Maria was also a mother now. She was a mother to seven children—the oldest of which was not very much younger than Maria, herself—and she adored them all. They were all happily adjusting to calling her mother. Sometimes, they made mistakes, but she didn't mind. Sometimes, she forgot that she was "Mother," and they didn't mind. They were all growing together, and all that really mattered was that they all cared for each other deeply and were doing their best to truly become a happy, loving family.
When Maria had thought that her life was destined for the convent, she hadn't ever imagined that she would be a wife and a mother, but she was eternally thankful for this life and the opportunity to be both of those things.
At breakfast, only a few moments before, Georg had helped to make her aware of a new life entirely.
Maria's face burned hot and she felt foolish when she thought of how she hadn't known—she hadn't realized—that so many little things she'd been experiencing lately weren't just symptoms of excitement and overwhelm as she adjusted to a life that was so completely outside of anything that she'd imagined before. For days, she'd been experiencing things that she'd done her best to keep to herself. She'd had spells of dizziness, once even fainting, and she'd been so nauseous that she'd thought she'd cry at the thought of trying to eat food. She'd subsisted primarily on bread with butter and a few cups of tea for days. She'd done her best to hide that from Georg and the children, practically pantomiming meals at the table and performing to keep conversation lively and to keep attention away from her consumption, but she feared that Frau Schmidt had no great feelings of comradery with her, compared to Georg, and hadn't kept the secret that her plates had been almost wholly untouched.
Every single thing, Maria had found a way to attribute to simply being a bit overwhelmed. She'd told herself that, with a bit more time to settle into her role as a wife and a mother of seven, she would see all of those symptoms subside entirely.
And, now, Georg had very lovingly helped her to understand that these symptoms might subside entirely, but they would take their time to do so and, in their leaving, they would bestow upon her the truly precious gift of an eighth child to add to their household.
Though Maria had been sure that there would be children—after all, she was a relatively healthy woman and there was no secret that Georg was a virile, and obviously fertile, man—and, though she'd allowed for the fact that there might even be seven or more children to come in the future, given the clear precedent that had been set in the household, Maria had not imagined that she would find herself with child quite so soon after their wedding.
Now, she and Georg had to tell the children that there was to be another to come, very soon, to add to their ranks. And, for that reason, along with the fact that this was all very new to her, as well, Maria was feeling a certain kinship with the newborn calf that she remembered seeing as it struggled to take its first toddling and tentative steps after its mother.
She was grateful for Georg's arm around her, supporting her, and his body beside hers. She felt like she could draw strength from him in more than one way.
"I wasn't aware we had entered into a footrace, Georg," Maria said, tightening her fingers' hold on his side.
He stopped immediately—almost too abruptly for the poor balance and control of her feet that Maria seemed to be suffering from, at the moment. She stopped, too.
He turned, but thankfully seemed to understand that she was drawing a great deal of support from him, because he slipped a hand under each of her arms and held her in such a way that she might believe that she could lift her feet entirely off the ground without falling.
He studied her. The way he was looking at her was intense. He was searching out every detail of her face. She would have felt self-conscious, if she weren't already feeling so many other things.
"Are you lightheaded again?" He asked.
"Quite," she said, no longer feeling any need to try to hide any of her symptoms from him. "And…admittedly, nervous."
He frowned.
"Of course, you are," he said. "How could I have been so foolish? I suppose I had some indication—some suspicion. But this has gone on too long without my giving it the proper attention."
Maria laughed at him. Her chest flooded with affection for him.
"You? How could I not know?" Maria asked.
"The answer to that is simple," Georg said. "You have never done this before. It's quite easy for someone with no experience at all to attribute one thing to another and dismiss symptoms altogether. I have seen this seven times over. And, though I have learned that there are elements of the experience that vary with each and every new life brought into the world, there are a great many things that remain somewhat the same."
"Do tell me that…you're as warm as I am, all of a sudden…" Maria said.
"You are not well at all," Georg said. "It's hardly warm."
Maria drew in a breath and let it out.
"I'm afraid—our experience is not at all the same, Georg…I believe I'm going to be quite sick, very soon," Maria managed. She felt a wave of panic as she realized that her confession hadn't been at all false. Georg, thankfully, understood her meaning. He lifted her, moving her to the grass much more quickly than she could have moved herself. The motion of his movements did nothing to settle her stomach, but mercifully, she found herself facing away from him before there was no more control that she could possibly exercise over stomach.
Rather suddenly, Maria found herself caught up in one of the worst moments that she could recall in quite some time. She had very little in her stomach—a piece of bread and a cup of tea—but her body seemed determined to rid itself of that in the most volatile way possible. She felt embarrassed, and horrified, and hot tears ran from her eyes as uncontrollably as anything else that was happening to her.
She was only somewhat aware of the fact that she was very much being held a little like a ragdoll as Georg supported her with one arm and rubbed her back with the other in an attempt to comfort her.
She coughed when she found herself strangled, gasping for air.
"Oh—oh…" Was all she could manage to try to say.
"There…there," Georg said. "Now, leave off at least one of your activities, Maria. There's no need for tears, and they'll only strangle you. Hush…hush now…tears have no purpose here. This is all really very natural."
"Natural…" Maria managed, when she was finally able. Despite the fact that she thought the worst might be behind her, she didn't try to move, and she noticed that Georg made no attempt to rush her. He stayed just as he was, still trying to soothe her with the repeated circles he rubbed on her back with the palm of his hand.
And it must have worked, because Maria felt herself calming significantly, even somewhat against her will. She felt her heart slowing from the racing it was doing. She felt her breath coming a bit more evenly. She felt her eyelids, even, getting a bit heavy.
"I'm so embarrassed," she said, when she was sure that only words were going to come from her mouth.
"Don't be embarrassed, my love," Georg said. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, yet. She hadn't moved from the position that he'd chosen for her—or, more than likely, the best he could offer on such very short notice. He sounded somewhat amused, though. He sounded practically cheerful. "As I was saying, this is a truly natural occurrence. Agathe was quite unwell with all of the children, and I'm afraid it hardly improved until the birth of each."
"Please, don't tell me that," Maria said. "I'm…mortified."
The hand that had been patting her back came around and offered her the handkerchief that Georg carried in his pocket.
"There's no reason to be embarrassed," Georg said. "And—I do hope that you will find a way to get beyond that as time goes on. For now, however…clean yourself up, and I will pretend that I have seen and heard nothing. I am none the wiser of what has taken place here."
Maria found that his teasing actually made her feel immensely better, and she was thankful for that. Her heart skipped a beat. She was in a most uncomfortable position, and yet she couldn't help but feel her heart flood with love for the man who seemed entirely unbothered by the fact that there was nothing at all beguiling about his wife, at this moment.
"Are you certain that you have your footing?" Georg asked.
Maria hummed. She turned to face him, still wiping her face for fear that some evidence may remain of what had taken place.
"How can you ever look at me the same again?" She asked.
Georg laughed quietly. She could barely recall having seen him in such good spirits before. He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She could hardly breathe, and her stomach felt full of butterflies—a very different sensation than the one that had led them to this corner of the garden.
Her stomach, emptied of its contents, felt much better, in fact, than it had since she'd woken.
Georg squeezed her arms.
"You are quite right about one thing," he said. "I will never be able to look at you the same. I would have doubted it were possible and, yet, every time I look at you, now, I will only love you even more than I did only this morning."
"I love you immensely," Maria said. He smiled at that. "But—I still feel mortified."
He laughed in response and kissed her forehead once more, impulsively and a little harder than before. She appreciated it because she could tell that he'd been overcome, for a moment, by something like an absolute need to do it.
"Feel how you must," Georg said, "but do try to get beyond the feeling as quickly as possible. Come—let's get you some water, and let you freshen up. Then, we'll find the children."
He put his arm around her and started to lead her back toward the house—back just the way they'd come. This time, Maria felt more confident on her feet and less like the little calf that she'd recalled earlier. She also felt that her stomach was a great deal more settled.
She drew in a breath and let it out with a sigh.
"Again?" Georg asked. There was no frustration or judgment there.
"No," Maria said. "Just—Georg—is it normal to feel so…exhausted? I feel as if I only just woke up, and already I could go back to bed."
Georg laughed.
"It takes a great deal of energy to create a new life, Maria. Surely, you can imagine that."
"I honestly haven't spent much time thinking about it," Maria admitted.
"You'll have plenty of time to think about it, now," Georg said.
Maria laughed.
"I suppose I will," she agreed.
"You need to eat something," Georg said.
"If you'll forgive me, Georg, after what just transpired, I hope you'll understand why I have little interest in discussing food," Maria said.
He hummed.
"And, yet, you must eat," Georg said. He tightened his grip on Maria slightly. The squeezing sensation was comforting and affectionate, and she appreciated it, even as it threw her slightly off balance and made her collide with him a little less gracefully than she might have hoped. "It will help your head and, perhaps, even your stomach. Beyond that, you must keep your strength up, and our baby must be fed as surely as we must make sure the children eat their meals. How about something that's not too taxing? Agathe was a fan of stews when she was carrying the children. They're warm, hearty—and can be made a touch salty, which she always said was something that made them appealing. They pair well with your bread and butter, and she always said that they made her feel better."
Maria's brain might have rejected the entire conversation on the very basis that she'd only just parted company with what little food she'd eaten. However, the way that Georg described the food, along with the fact that she must truly be quite hungry, since she'd eaten so little in the past few days, made her stomach respond in a way all its own. The loud noise of agreement and interest that it made was as outside of her control as everything else seemed, for the time being, and her face ran warm when she heard it, practically feeling that it echoed in the space around them.
Georg laughed.
"I will let Frau Schmidt know that a stew is to be prepared for an early lunch," Georg said.
"I don't want anyone to go to any trouble," Maria said.
"My dear—we're all going to go to as much trouble as we please," Georg said. "And we will enjoy every minute of it…so, do try to enjoy it, as well."
111
"Mother! Mother! Mother!"
The chorus of voices calling out to Maria as the children moved closer was a blend of all their voices in harmony—as if they were singing out the title that they now used to address her. As soon as they'd seen her coming, freshened up from her earlier experience and feeling much more confident and steadier on her feet, with Georg at her side, they'd all left off what they were doing near the water and were now rushing toward their parents.
Maria had felt nervous before. It was, perhaps, that nervousness that had been the final straw for her weak stomach and had pushed her beyond the point of holding back any longer.
She had no idea how the children were going to react, but Georg's absolute acceptance and, beyond that, joy, had made her feel much more confident that their reactions would be good—at least, eventually. She was, of course, willing to give the children whatever time and space they may need to adjust to the idea of the new life that was coming into their family.
"How are you feeling, Mother?" Liesl asked.
"Should we send for the doctor?" Friedrich asked, with the sound of someone who has already assigned himself the job in question.
"Are you really ill?" Kurt asked.
"Would it help you feel better, if we sing?" Gretl asked.
Marta, for her part, burst pitifully into tears, without voicing much of anything, and Maria pulled the girl to her body, wrapping her arms around her immediately. The other children were practically closing in, giving Maria the sensation that she sometimes got, when they all surrounded her so thoroughly and enthusiastically, that she ought to close her eyes and hold her breath for the submersion that seemed imminent.
"Georg…" Maria said.
"All right…all right!" Georg said, raising his voice loud enough to stop the children in their tracks. He probably wished, at that moment, that he still carried the whistle that he had once used with the children. He'd given that up, at Maria's request, but there were still times that it would have been useful to simply get everyone's attention at once.
Now, they resorted to the shouting that Georg had once told Maria that he absolutely would not tolerate. Of course, their house was, in many ways, a great deal louder and more disorderly than Georg had wanted it to be when Maria had first arrived, but their loud and disorderly house was, also, practically overflowing with love and happiness.
The children stopped as Georg raised his voice enough to catch their attention and, raising his hands and then lowering them in a gesture that they all understood, signaled that he needed them all to be quiet and attentive.
"Now that we're all calm," Georg said. He looked at Marta, who was still clinging to Maria and weeping, despite the fact that Maria was hugging her and rubbing her back. "Now that we're…mostly calm. Your mother and I need to have a bit of a conversation with you all, as a family."
"Oh—I knew it!" Liesl said loudly and a bit frantically. "You're not terribly ill, are you, Mother?"
"I'm not ill at all!" Maria said quickly and loudly, making sure that she was heard. She felt a bit frantic, herself, and her heart was racing in her chest—something that wasn't great for her head, given that it had been spinning a bit the past few days. She knew that she was responding to the children's energy. She also knew that illness had its own associations for the children, and they were not at all pleasant. "I am not ill," she repeated.
"But you haven't eaten," Louisa said. "Father said so."
"Only bread and butter," Kurt agreed.
"You must eat more than that, Mother," Liesl insisted, her voice still carrying some of the earlier panic.
"Maybe we should still call for the doctor, Father," Friedrich said, clearly ready to run, himself, to town to fetch the doctor, if such a thing were necessary in this situation.
Georg must have sensed Friedrich's readiness to take off at full tilt, because he reached and put a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was affectionate, but also grounding.
"Your mother is not unwell," Georg said. "At least—she is suffering from no ailment."
"What on Earth does that mean, Father?" Liesl asked, with a sort of accusation to her tone. "Mother…what does that mean?"
Marta had calmed, at least to the point that she'd stopped crying, but she was still clinging to Maria, squeezing her enough that Maria was having uncomfortable memories of how she'd felt just before asking Georg to help her find a spot where she could not-so-discreetly rid herself of her breakfast. She drew in a few breaths purposefully—and as deeply as the vicelike grip of her daughter would allow—and tried to remind herself that she had nothing left in her stomach beyond the few sips of water that Georg had forced upon her after she'd cleaned her teeth.
"Georg—I think it's better to just be direct," Maria said. They hadn't prepared any particular way to tell the children their news, and it was clear that all of the children were quite wound up.
"Would you care to be the one?" Georg asked.
Maria felt a bit of a headrush at the thought. It was exciting news, but it was still nerve-racking to think of actually saying it out loud—even to the children. She shook her head at him.
He smiled at her and winked his eye quickly. The gesture was simple, but it warmed Maria. She smiled back at him.
"Children—your mother and I love each and every one of you a great deal," Georg said.
"What does that have to do with Mother's health?" Friedrich interrupted, brow-furrowed and face stern as he demanded answers to what was concerning all of them.
Georg laughed quietly and held his hand up to still and quiet the boy.
"If you will allow me to finish, then you will know," Georg said, not sounding at all in bad spirits. "We love each and every one of you a great deal, as I was saying. So much so, in fact, that we couldn't possibly stand the idea that our family could be complete, and we could face the future knowing that there would be no more children to love as much as all of you."
Every face was furrowed with concern and confusion, right down to Gretl. It was humorous, and Maria did find herself laughing quietly at their expressions. Still, the confusion tugged at her heart, especially following so much concern.
"Georg—do be kind. I'm not sure they understand."
Georg moved closer to her, having given the children room to surround her when that's what they'd needed most. Now that they'd backed off some, except for Marta, Georg moved to Maria's side and put his arm around her again. He pulled her to him, and she couldn't help but indulge in the embrace by hugging him back and resting her head against his body as they stood facing their children.
"Your mother, it seems, is going to be a mother again," Georg said. "She is going to have a baby."
"A baby!" Liesl declared first.
Her declaration, however, only led the way for a chorus of each child declaring the same thing and, in some cases, repeating it several times over. The energy around them very quickly shifted. The worry of tears and upset didn't seem to be hanging around them. Now, everyone's energy was frantic in a different way.
Maria found herself passing out hugs as quickly as she could, doing her best to ignore that she was being squeezed to the point that it was nearly uncomfortable at times. Suddenly, she no longer felt tired and heavy, as she had. She felt full of energy, practically drinking in the excitement from each of her children. The girls, admittedly, heaped her with a great deal more affection than the boys did, but she assumed that it was only natural that the girls would be more excited about the arrival of a baby. The boys had only the most basic concerns for her.
"Do you think you could make it a boy?" Kurt asked.
"Well—I'll certainly try, Kurt," Maria assured him with a quick hug.
"If not this time," Georg had offered, "perhaps some other time."
Maria had felt her face run warm for a moment at the thought that it was very likely that this moment was the first time that they announced a pregnancy to the children, but it may very well not be the only time—not at all.
"Should we still call for the doctor?" Friedrich asked.
Georg had squeezed his shoulder again, offering him affection in that manner.
"Yes," Georg said. "I think you're quite right about that. We'll have the doctor come by later today and make sure everything is just as it should be."
"But I'm confident that I'm well," Maria offered quickly, not wanting anyone to descend into panic or upset again.
"Your mother appears to be suffering nothing unexpected," Georg added, catching on to her need to make sure that the children were soothed.
"You really should eat more," Louisa said. "Father said you haven't eaten."
"And that's terrible for the baby, Mother!" Liesl said, her voice absolutely scolding.
"Now…now," Georg interrupted. "Your mother has requested something a bit more agreeable to her stomach, and we'll have a stew for lunch that will be nourishing to all of us—your mother and the baby, included."
"I can help take care of the baby," Louisa offered, now that she no longer had to spend her energy insisting that Maria eat well.
"Absolutely!" Maria said. "Of course, you can. Oh—I'm going to need everyone's help! So much! I have no idea what I'm doing. I've never taken care of a baby before."
"Don't worry, Mother," Liesl assured her. "We'll help you with everything when the baby comes. And now, too! You won't have to do anything!"
"Well—now—I don't want you children overly burdened with a baby," Maria said. "You have school and your other activities. But, I will gladly take some help, as long as you're not too overwhelmed."
"Can I help, too?" Marta asked.
Maria smiled at her. She pulled her close, hugging her again, and brushed her hair back from her face. She kissed her face, happy to see that her cheeks were finally dry.
"Of course, you can," Maria said. "I'll be depending on you. On all of you."
"What can I do?" Gretl asked.
Georg scooped her up before Maria could address her.
"Well—you have the most important job of all," he said.
"I do?" She asked, wide-eyed.
"You do," he confirmed. "As the current baby, you have to make the new baby feel welcomed—so it knows that it has a place here, and won't be upsetting you in any way. It's tradition. The current baby always has to help make the new baby feel welcome. You can do that, can't you? Help your mother, and make the new baby feel welcome? It'll be your baby, after all. That's always the tradition…just like Marta looks out for you."
Several of Gretl's siblings confirmed that this was definitely how things happened, and that it was a very important role for her. She smiled, seemingly pleased with the idea.
"I can do it," she declared, finally, and with a great deal of enthusiasm.
Maria was happy to see that all of the children made a big deal out of Gretl's decision to help welcome the new baby into the family. It would be a big adjustment for her, after all—bigger for her, in some ways, than for many of the other children—and Maria liked to think that she had the support of her entire family as she made the adjustment.
Gretl reached her arms out to Maria, and Maria took her from Georg's arms, resting the little girl on her hip. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she thought about the fact that, someday, she would be holding a much smaller child in her arms, and Gretl would suddenly seem so much more grown than she did at the moment. There was a certain, entirely unexpected sadness that accompanied the thought. It was bittersweet, and she swallowed against the lump that it brought to her throat.
Maria squeezed the little girl gently, closing her eyes and letting her arms do their best to remember this moment and the feeling of Gretl, just as small as she was now.
Maria drew in a deep breath and let it out as she let Gretl's feet slide down to come to rest on the ground.
There was so much about this moment that she wanted to remember. So much, she knew, that she'd missed from the sheer overwhelm and excitement. She was sure that much of it wouldn't be clear to her, in years to come, as it wasn't too clear now. Still, she let her eyes dance over the faces of all of their children as she tried to take them all in.
This may not be the last time that she and Georg told the children that the family was growing by one more little life, but it was the first time, and that made it immensely special to Maria.
Maybe something on Maria's face gave away some indication of what she was thinking and feeling. Or, perhaps, Georg simply understood that it was entirely likely that she would be feeling just as she did. Either way, he clearly sensed that she could use a little comfort and support from him, and he moved toward her and dropped an arm over her shoulder. He rubbed her arm before lowering his hand and wrapping his arm fully around her, his fingers pressing lightly against her ribcage.
"How long will it be before the baby is here?" Brigitta asked.
Maria felt a catch in her chest. Each question was a reminder that this was real—and it had hardly had time to sink in for her as a reality.
"Oh…well…" She stammered, realizing that she'd hardly taken the time to think of that.
"We've got some time," Georg said, rather quickly, saving her from having to come up with an answer. "You don't have to worry about it for now. There will be plenty of time for everyone to think about what they can do to help with the baby."
"What can we do now?" Louisa asked.
"Yes! I want to do something now!" Gretl declared.
"Surely you need something, Mother—why—you must need something…anything," Liesl said, her hands resting on the shoulders of Louisa and Gretl, as she clearly intended to take charge of them and help Maria with the entire situation.
"Well…for now, I can't think of anything," Maria said. "But—the minute that I do need something, I promise that I won't hesitate to let all of you children know. I can't tell you how much it means to me to know that…that you're all happy, and that you all want to help with the baby."
"Women in your condition shouldn't be carrying things," Friedrich said, with great authority. He had clearly just thought of this fact.
"Well…" Maria started.
"Of course, not," Georg said. Maria looked at him. He was amused and barely hiding it. "You mustn't let her carry anything."
"Not a thing," Kurt seconded. "We'll handle it all."
"And she mustn't get overtired, or overworked," Georg offered.
"Oh—we'll make it so you don't have to do anything!" Louisa said, practically jumping with excitement at the idea of doing what, exactly, Maria couldn't guess.
"Thank you," Maria said. "Really. I feel fine. I'm sure that I can handle most things…but I truly, truly do appreciate knowing that all of you children are willing to help."
"Now," Georg said, "I think it's time that—your mother and I took a little walk together. Exercise and fresh air are wonderful for the baby and we do have some things to discuss. I trust you can all entertain yourselves without getting into trouble?"
A chorus of "Yes, fathers" rang out from the children.
"I love you all," Maria offered, her chest aching with the absolute truth of that statement. She was overwhelmed with the love and support of her family. Each of the children came to her and offered her the hug that she sought, without her having to explicitly ask for it. One by one, she took them into her arms, squeezed them, and offered a few kisses on foreheads as she went. She thanked each of them for their congratulations and support, and she praised them for being such wonderful children—because she did believe that each of them was wonderful.
As they walked off, Georg slipped an arm around her again. She wrapped her arm around him and leaned into him, enjoying simply being this close to him. Her body flooded with affection for him, and she bit her lip at the rush of emotions that she felt.
"Georg…"
"Yes?" He asked.
"You know a great deal about…my condition," Maria said.
He laughed quietly.
"I suppose I know as much as any man," he said.
"Oh—I think you're being modest," Maria said with a laugh. "You are a father of seven."
"Eight," he corrected.
Maria felt a thrill. She smiled in response and bit back the almost impulsive urge to skip at the thought of it.
"You know—Georg—maybe we were wrong to tell the children so soon," Maria said. "We haven't spoken to the doctor yet. What if we're rushing into things?"
"My love, you and I have done a great deal of rushing into things," Georg said. "From the moment that I accepted you as our new governess."
"Do you regret that?" Maria asked.
"I regret nothing, Maria, when it comes to you, except not telling you sooner that I was madly in love with you," Georg said. "From the moment you walked into my life, I have been happier than I ever thought that I could possibly be after I lost Agathe. The only moment of sadness that I've known, since you arrived, was when you left me."
"I'm sorry for that," Maria said.
"I'm sorry that—you felt the need to leave," Georg said. "I'm sorry that I hadn't been honest with you…honest with myself."
"Even if you had been," Maria said, "I may not have been ready to hear what you had to say."
Georg squeezed her, gently.
"Never mind that," he said. "What's done is done, and there's no need talking about it. I won't have you upset over things that don't matter any longer. Maternal upset troubles the baby, and we won't have that needlessly. We'll put that to rest, and you'll simply promise me that, I'll never have to suffer through losing you again."
Maria smiled at him.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said. "But—you know that."
"I do," Georg confirmed, "but I still enjoy hearing it, on occasion. Every man likes for the woman he loves to reassure him that she still loves him. He likes to be reassured that—she's pleased with the life he's providing her."
"I do love you," Maria said. "And I am happy, Georg. I'm happier than…than I ever thought possible."
"Wonderful," Georg said. "The doctor will be pleased. We'll be sure to tell him, when he comes to give you a thorough examination."
"We'll tell him I'm happy?" Maria asked, amused.
Georg hummed and nodded.
"Maternal happiness is one of the most important things in pregnancy," Georg said. "Why—it's one of the things that helps to guarantee a healthy pregnancy and an easy delivery."
"Is that true, Georg?" Maria asked. "Or something like—all those things you told the children, so that they won't let me do anything."
Georg laughed.
"What makes you think that anything I told the children isn't true?" Georg asked. "You said, yourself, that a man of my experience knows a great deal about pregnancy."
Maria hummed at him. She was certain that he was teasing her—at least a little—but she didn't mind.
"Well, then, tell me…will the affection that I feel for you continue to grow, thanks to my condition?" Maria asked. "Because, at the moment, I'm feeling as though I can hardly stand to be away from you for even a moment. And being close to you is even more wonderful than it has been before—not that it hasn't always taken my breath away."
Georg stopped walking. Maria stopped with him. She stood in front of him and smiled in response to the soft smile that he wore, the corners of his lips just barely turned up with it, even though it shone brightly in his eyes. He touched her face, gently. He brushed his fingers over her cheeks, and then he brushed those same fingers down to her lips. She puckered, delicately kissing his fingers as he paused to allow her to do so. He slipped his fingers under her chin and tipped her face up to him. She already knew that he would kiss her, but the anticipation still sent a sensation running the length of her body and pooling between her legs. Her cheeks, she knew, burned red in response to the desire that she couldn't help but feel.
Georg seemed to sense it. He raised one eyebrow and smirked, before he brought his lips to hers. She felt the kiss burn through her body, and she raised up enough to deepen it—letting him taste her hunger.
When the kiss broke, he looked at her with eyes that seemed darker than usual.
"Later," he said, his voice a bit deeper than it had been only moments before, "tonight, I will more properly show you how pleased I am about the baby, if you will allow it."
Maria's breath was coming a bit more ragged. She couldn't help it.
"I'm looking forward to it," she said.
"Good," he said. "To answer your question, I don't know if your affection for me will grow because of your condition, or simply because that's what love is meant to do. Regardless of the reason, Maria, I can only hope that—your love for me does continue to grow…and thrive…for years to come. Because I know that, surely, my love for you will never die."
"Georg…" Maria said. He hummed at her, to ask her to continue. "Must we really wait until tonight?" She asked, her cheeks burning red again at the fact that she knew how forward she was being.
"You need to eat…" He said.
"I can eat after," Maria said. "We can tell the children that I need the rest and quiet. They are anxious to help, after all."
"Making love does stimulate the appetite," Georg said. Maria nodded her agreement. He nodded a little sternly. "Very well. Let's tell the children that—we're not to be disturbed for a bit. And, then, we'll see what we can do that will be very good for mother and baby."
Maria simply smiled at him in response and slipped her arm through his, letting him lead them back toward the house.