Chapter 22: A Lie Begins (Part 1)

The next day

Maria had never been to this corner of Salzburg. In fact, as the city streets widened, the buildings reaching up to scratch the sky suddenly disappearing in lieu of smaller shops with swaths of grass and wildflowers and weeds sprouting between their walls, it hardly seemed like Salzburg at all. And when the final semblance of the city gave way to a dusty road lined with trees threatening to drop their branches to the road below, Salzburg itself seemed only a memory. Despite the car's heavy frame and the thick window at the back, Maria still twisted around, trying to catch a final glimpse of the city she had come to love. Oh, she thought as she turned back around. If there was any pavement beneath the car's tires, it was buried beneath that layer of dirt, as though the road was hardly ever used. What have I gotten myself into?

"Really, Georg," she murmured as she turned back to the road that lay ahead, "where are we going?"

He didn't even let his eyes dart over to her, almost squinting as a fresh cloud of dust coated the front window. "You've already asked me that today," he said, wishing he could scrape the film away. "Though I suppose I'm not surprised."

"Aren't I allowed to wonder?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Christ, at least I know this road well, even where the trees will be so heavy with leaves, they'll almost be touching the roof of the car come summertime. "But perhaps it can—be a surprise for you?"

Her hands caught up in her hair just at the base of her head, Maria began her braid finally. "I didn't think you were one to like surprises."

He wrapped a hand tighter around the steering wheel, ready for a wide right turn across the road, though as usual, no cars were wandering toward Salzburg from the east. "Not being the one to receive them, I learned to hate that during the war, darling." Georg tapped his foot on the brake, a fresh spray of dust kicking up from the road. "But perhaps I do want to have one for you."

Maria winced, tugging harder than she meant on one of the strands of hair in her braid as the car slowed. "But I want to know!"

Georg turned the wheel over hard, rewarded with a squeal from the tires. "Patience for once, darling." Bringing the steering wheel back to center, he centered the car on the narrower lane, even dustier than the road they had just left with just space for one vehicle at a time. "If I'm honest, you've certainly tried mine a little this afternoon."

She pulled on her hair once more, though this time was because she turned toward him. "It was just—"

"I didn't think you were ever late for coming to see me."

Maria opened her mouth—but stopped and closed it again, suddenly uncertain of what to say. I only wanted to take a few minutes to put myself together, I thought you might like that. You always look so put together, as though you've someplace to go—or you've just been somewhere fancier than I've ever been—well maybe except the concert hall— She sighed, the warmth from the back of Georg's hand suddenly bleeding into her skin, every word and thought suddenly gone. "How do you do that?" she whispered, leaning a little closer to him, though his hand was already gone and back on the steering wheel as they rumbled over a short patch of pebbles, the tires going this way and that for a short second.

"Hmm?"

"Just—" Oh, I can't ask you that, can I? Not really. "I think you've already said that today, too."

"Perhaps."

O O O

With the final blessing of the priest at the front of the church still hanging in the air, Maria hurried home from Mass quicker than ever—far quicker than that first Sunday she eagerly anticipated seeing Georg at the Mirabell Gardens. It was almost a run, really, her jacket flapping as the air snapped around her and she dashed through the smaller crowds of the very early afternoon, almost missing the last turn down the road to her boarding house. And then rough, nearly jagged stairs to her own floor, faster than any day since...Well, she didn't really think about him* anymore. After all, she hadn't seen him for weeks. Perhaps he finally decided to leave me alone, she thought as her hand slipped on the doorknob, her palm sweaty after her little run. Well, maybe not so little, she allowed as she winced with the sudden squeal of the hinges. Right in the dip of her side just above her waist, a small ache was already throbbing as she needed a few moments to catch her breath, wiping another few drops of perspiration from her face as she door closed behind her. I suppose I'm not young enough to run about like a little girl anymore.

She peeled her church dress away, shaking it to stop the worst of the wrinkles in the dark green cloth, then her stockings, both damp with sweat and wearing a thin coating of dust from the street. She always wore the best she could to Mass, but there had been no time to see her her laundry yesterday, even with just her shopping to fill the morning. With the end of the term approaching, the collection of papers she loaded into her bag Friday afternoon had been larger than ever. At least it was clean, Maria thought, not quite ready to hang it in her wardrobe again. Just beneath where the fabric caught beneath her arms and where her dress dipped in at that same spot just beneath her ribs, the green had turned even darker with her sweat. And caught between her dress and skin, her shift was even worse...but she didn't have another. "I suppose I should air it out for a time, at least until I'm back from—"

Her breath caught at the back of her throat, the tightness in her belly growing as it always did whenever her thoughts turned to Georg. Even marking papers the night before had been an ordeal, her mind drifting through the hours and days to come. And if she had told him she sometimes wished the priest would hurry through the Eucharist—she wanted every moment she could manage with him, though she couldn't quite understand even now—for once, Maria wished he had asked her, even demanded, to see her in the morning. "I wasn't even listening," she whispered to herself as she lay her dress across her bed. The last nights had turned too warm for anything but her sheet; her quilt lay lonesome and folded at her feet when she slept and her sheet wrinkled just beneath her pillow. With the days only set to grow warmer, she hadn't bothered to tug it up over her bed, instead her tossing and turning freer as Georg continued to haunt her thoughts, always wondering if he would be able to keep her warm—

"I just...Forgive me, Father."

In her little washroom, she splashed a few handfuls of water across her face, sipping a couple of mouthfuls to rinse away the dry film coating her tongue. Is it really that wrong? she wondered as she patted it away from her cheeks, still tinged pink from her rush. Isn't it right that I want to see Georg? Now it wasn't just the exertion from her hurry coloring her skin, it was embarrassment. She had never even whispered it to the priest who listened to her confessions now and then, instead filling those moments with everything else: the little words she muttered under her breath when she found herself cross with the young boys in her class or her impatience when the line at her local shop grew longer than she could stand, those she offered up freely. But the dreams she eagerly awaited each night that left her as mortified as unsatisfied the following morning...she couldn't quite bring herself to say it.

"I know you've seen them, Father," she said as she wiped away the damp at the back of her neck. "But sometimes, I think…" She returned the towel to its rod, the ends a little uneven where they were nailed to the plaster. Back to her little warped mirror, Maria reached around to the back of her head, finding the first of the pins keeping her hair in its little knot. If I don't say anything, no one else will have to know. Another pin and then the next saw the first few locks fall free over her right shoulder atop the lightly frayed strap of her shift.

In just a few minutes, a pile of slender silvery pins lay beside the cold tap on the edge of the basin. On another day, they would have dropped into an old jar—long ago emptied of preserves—but this would have to do for today, she had hardly had a chance to come home! Maria ran her hands through her hair to loosen the little tangles left behind as her bun fell apart, the indentations from those pins and marks from how she tied it all together indistinguishable from her own faint curls. She should redo that knot, Maria knew, even as twisted the tips of her fingers through the very ends, a little more ragged than she wished they were. "I don't even now where we're going."

An itch bloomed on her left shoulder just beneath the other strap of her shift, right where the old cotton had scratched at her skin during her dash from church to her room. A moment of clawing at her skin saw it gone—and then she caught her reflection in the mirror. She hadn't really bothered to glance at herself throughout the years, not until...Maria swallowed, desperate to calm that fluttering in her stomach as she rubbed at a tiny nick on the mirror with a thumb as though she could wipe it away. I can't stop myself wondering what he sees when he looks at me. He's seen so much of the world, I've not really seen anything but Vienna and Salzburg, but for the train to travel here and...The memory of Attersee still stoked the heat she couldn't stand. At least apart from that day with you.

But even if the rippling glass in front of her had been nicer, there was nothing much to see, there never had been: not when she was a child in the bath or the last time she had examined herself just here. Her skin paler than might be right and her nose crooked after a harsher blow than usual when she was still a little girl missing her home and her father. Her hair had been pale and almost golden when she was a young girl, but over the last few years, a darker tone had appeared, something between brown and red, though it was still buried beneath the blond. "It still can't decide whether to lay straight or curl," she muttered, a few locks caught in her palm.

Perhaps only her blue eyes to note in her face, just…"They're like yours—"

"You won't have me to look after you."

"You really think he doesn't want anything from you?"

"No!" Maria caught the basin with her free hand, biting down hard on her bottom lip as the burn spread from fingers up through her wrist. A hiss escaped her mouth as she pulled her arm back, shaking her hand in the air though it just left the sting feeling worse. "Oh, why can't I do anything quite right? And maybe I shouldn't even go with you—wherever you'll take me."

She shook her head, her hair rustling around her shoulders as she turned around, hardly stopping to turn off the washroom light, hurrying rather faster than she needed to. "I don't even…" A sigh was all she managed instead, a chill running over her bare skin. "I don't even know what I'm trying to run from." Her mattress creaked as she sank onto it: hands clutched around her bare upper arms as she crouched forward, knees pressed together and the bottom hem of her shift caught between her bare calves. "I'm not silly," she murmured, another tingly itch suddenly starting under the top of her right arm. "I know there's so much I don't know, and not just about him. But...I still…" Now, it was a deep breath filling her chest, her breasts in her old underclothes pushed hard into her shift. "Just something nice, someone nice."

Maria couldn't help herself as she fell back onto her bed, her folded quilt under the dip in her spine, one hand landing on her belly. She winced, that burn already surging against her palm and melting together with the fading sting there. I don't really just mean something, she thought, the heat spreading down between her legs and up her sides, leaving her body so taut she had to stretch out every limb. Nearly every night—whether she had passed the afternoon with Georg or not—she couldn't stop herself thinking of their last moment together. And then the one before that, the one before that, and then the one before that.

"There's so much I don't know, Georg, about you or...anything," Maria said as she sat up and leaned forward once again, her elbows digging into her thighs. She couldn't quite let herself say anything else. "I know it's not wise, but...maybe…" Another shake of her head threw her hair back over her shoulders; she couldn't resist, her fingers twisting the very ends again and again. "But…" She couldn't stop the smile as she thought of him, the dark hair and blue eyes and faintly lined and tanned skin. "But maybe I'm not wise, or at least enough to say 'no'. Sometimes, I think I would follow wherever…"

She was on her feet, rushing around her bed to that little side table with the lamp that must have seen a few other tenants in this room and her father's watch. The brass casing on the back was waiting to be polished after every morning checking the time to be certain she didn't miss her bus again, and she had to rub away her fingerprints on the front glass to be sure of where the hands lay. Less than ten minutes until one o'clock, so much time just caught in her own little daydream. "Oh, I didn't mean to take that long!" Maria dashed across the room to her wardrobe, her fingers scrabbling on the knob for a moment before she finally had a hold of it. Even though she reached in blindly—nearly all of the small collection of hangers she shoved to one side—she knew exactly which dress she wanted.

The woman behind the counter had hardly let her touch the fabric before she purchased it a few weeks earlier, brown eyes behind her silver spectacles almost...examining her before she settled the bolt on the scratched wooden surface. She knew how much cloth each of her dresses needed, though she nearly forgot a cheaper fabric for its lining. The top layer wasn't quite the blue of the lake—Maria didn't know if she could ever quite match that brilliant color—but somehow, she liked it better for that. "It's almost the color…"Stop being silly, Maria, you don't have the time to waste like that!" She tugged it over her head and down over her chest, her breasts pinched for a moment as the seam at the waist caught them. She hadn't meant to bring it in so tightly (Maria kept telling herself that), but she hadn't the fabric leftover to mend it, let alone do it over again.

As it settled above her hips and the very bottom hem of the skirt swung this way and that, Maria pushed the seams of the sleeves to the end of each of her shoulders. If she had had longer, she would have done something else with the very end of the short sleeves, but she had already been up late in the evening just working to see that something so simple was done as best she could. Probably the hardest decision had been how long to cut the sleeves. It probably wasn't the best, she thought as she began tightening the laces on the left side of her ribcage, the bodice coming in a little more with each criss-cross she pulled.

And I don't know what Mother would think, me leaving my room in a dress like this. Even though all her other frocks fit nicely—her foster mother had taught her well, if not perfectly before she spent some time in the dressmaker's shop—but not quite so close to her frame. It wasn't that odd, she knew, women wearing dresses with laces wherever they happened to be sewn in or anything a little closer to the skin, but never in her foster mother's home and...She gasped for a deep breath as she pulled the final a little too tight, her fingers picking it loose before she tied the very ends together. I wouldn't have been old enough when I left Uncle Josef and Aunt Hannah's house, anyway. Not that I would have—

No mistaking the time, now: the church bells were ringing out their song over the city, the same melody she had learned well on her journey to her classroom each weekday morning, and then the single solemn chime marking the first full hour of the afternoon. Maria pulled her hands away from the laces up her left side—a couple of her fingers tangled around the very end of the thin ribbon in her haste—beginning to twist a braid together—

"I don't have time," she murmured as she dashed back to her washroom, not bothering to snap the light on again. The band from the plait she had woven the night before was right where she had left it as she readied herself for Mass while the morning grew brighter and her stomach rumbled with her fast ahead of the Eucharist. Just on the other side of the taps from the pile of pins. "You'll probably laugh at me if you first see me like this." But there was no time to tie it all together again, not if…

You must know I'm coming, Maria thought as she pushed it up around her wrist, even if I'm sure you'll laugh at how late I am. She ran both hands down over her skirt another time, though she wasn't certain what she was thinking she might fine. Apart from trying it on a few days prior to decide on any final adjustments to the seams and hems—she had never even tried to sew something so intricate for herself—it had hung in her wardrobe. Waiting.

Maria didn't bother with a fresh pair of stockings despite the damp sweat that had soaked into the wool, instead pulling each back on with a quick drop back onto the quilt at the bottom of her bed. At least they aren't as heavy as the ones I wear all winter, she thought as she pushed the top of the left one back down to her ankle. On her feet again, she rushed toward the door, stopping just long enough to slip her feet into the shoes she had taken to wearing on drier days as spring grew ever warmer. I suppose that's everything, she thought, now throwing her hair over her shoulder in a few handfuls. I can probably braid it while I'm walking—

Her door open, Maria paused, one foot already out into the hallway before she turned back. "You hardly seemed to understand what I was asking on Thursday, I don't know if you'll know anything to bring." Another few steps took her back to her bed and the quilt neatly laid across the mussed sheets she had hurriedly thrown in order before leaving for church. "I suppose it will be warm enough that the grass won't be damp, wherever you're taking me." Reaching for the thick blanket, Maria folded it over her left arm, then tucked the far end between her arm and her belly. "But I don't think I fancy sitting on the grass today—and I don't think you would, either."

Maybe she should have worn her jacket after all. Maria couldn't decide as she swiftly walked the blocks to where she and Georg always met these days, her foot tapping impatiently when the growing crowd of pedestrians swallowed her while they waited for cars and buses to finally clear each intersection. The sun was warm enough so long as a cloud didn't linger in front of it and the throng of men and women shielded her from any late April breeze. But whenever the crowd parted at all—some men scurrying through each crosswalk, many women dawdling as they chatted amongst friends or family—there was a chill biting at the bare skin of her upper arms and the exposed half of her right forearm.

Across another road, Maria's eyes were already darting this way and that. He was always someplace around here, but with the nearly unseasonable warmth, it was more crowded than ever even on a Sunday afternoon. I know I'm late, she thought as she stood on her toes for a second. It didn't matter: she might be a little taller than many of the women around her, but it seemed almost every man had a hat on his head, leaving her lost in a sea of black felt and brims and brown bands. But I know you must be here—

She gasped, a hand suddenly wrapped around her bare arm, dragging her back from the stuffy air in the crowd. "What—"

"This is the first time I think you've been late like this, darling," Georg murmured as she tried to spin around—just a little bit away from him. But his grasp was a little too tight.

"I'm sorry, just…" If her heart had begun pounding from the little fright when he dragged her to him—she was nearly pressed up against him even in the throng of people—it only drummed faster now. Over the last weeks and months, Maria had grown accustomed to being this close to Georg, near enough to see every detail of his face and sometimes feel his breath on hers. But somehow, wherever they were, he was always the same: his suit and tie, his heavier coat whenever he needed it, always a gentleman who would be just as at home in some fancy house as he must have been on a submarine, even if she couldn't quite picture it. Today, though…Well, maybe he was in a hurry, too, Maria thought, the heat already building deep in her belly. "I...I just..."

If she sometimes still felt like a child in her handmade dresses and her coat that had seen better days, especially now with her hair down around her face, Georg always managed to appear pristine and crisp, even when his winter overcoat had been buttoned up to his throat through the first several weeks of their acquaintanceship. (She still wasn't sure if it was right to call what had blossomed between them a friendship, let alone anything that would justify her sordid imaginings.) Even at Attersee, he had still donned his suit coat and tie, though the former was discarded as rowing across the lake beneath the sun had turned too warm. But today...No tie was knotted around his neck, and though even the top button was still fastened, Maria could just see a hint of dark hair peeking from beneath the starched white shirt. And he hadn't even attempted to button his suit coat, just leaving her eyes free to scrape across his body, just wondering and beginning to imagine what lay beneath. I can't, she told herself, still squirming against his hold. I know it's not right. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Whatever she had been ready to choke out was gone, just a sigh escaping her lips as he dragged her back to him, a quick kiss pressed to her temple. "Well, we didn't agree to a time," he said, his free hand pushing a few wisps of hair from her forehead. "You rarely look like this when I first see you, though I did expect you a little sooner after your time with God." He reached down for her hand—then snorted as he finally glanced down and noticed the quilt slung over her arm. "What on earth do you have that thing for?"

The flush was burning across her cheeks, even stronger than that second time they had met and she wasn't certain whether to be more embarrassed by walking into him a second time or her skirt and shift crumpled up almost around the top of her thighs. "I wasn't…" She shoved the blanket into the crook of her elbow, her hand now exposed and open for his; Georg didn't hesitate to seize it. "I wasn't certain you would think to bring one."

"I may be many more years out of my childhood than you, Maria, but I do remember what a picnic is."

"You just seemed so surprised when I asked."

Georg laughed for a moment, still so close to her that Maria felt it against her face more than she heard it. "Well, you have the upper hand, then my dear. I fear that did slip my mind." He took a first step and with her hand knotted together with his, Maria was helpless to do anything but follow...Not that I would do anything else, she thought, skipping a little with a few high steps to catch pace with him and avoid the rough stones on the street.

With Georg leading the way—down the road and farther away from her little room—no one bothered them, the crowd almost parting like the Red Sea must have for Moses. They didn't for me, she thought as he pulled her through yet another intersection. I suppose they somehow know they should—let you do as you please, I guess. Now he turned them down a smaller side street: fewer people and more trees, a number of cars lining either side, most of them rather like the one he had driven on their little trip to Attersee. "Where are we going, Georg?" she asked, still struggling to keep up with him.

He sighed, pausing and half turning back to her, only his hand stopping her from running into his chest. "You really do want to know, don't you?" Maria nodded as her hair danced around her shoulders. Georg brushed another lock of short broken hair from her forehead, a finger slipping along her cheek, finally lingering just beneath her chin. "Won't you let me show you before I tell you?"

Maria just nodded, her mouth suddenly dry and all thoughts suddenly muddled and confused. "Yes," she breathed.

It was a little smile on Georg's mouth now as he leaned toward her, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek. "Good."

O O O

"Perhaps?" Maria asked, a little louder than she meant to as the car bounced over another little patch of gravel. "You did say that already!"

"It's just so strange, darling," Georg muttered, his eyes still on the road. Like you, really, he thought with another little twist of the wheel to bring the car back to the center. I couldn't stop myself from telling Elsa just that about you, even when I was hardly out of her bed. God, it felt a lifetime ago, setting foot into her townhouse. Even Vienna was fading in his mind, apart from visits like his last to sign a stack of papers and listen to Max complain over his lot in life— Something in his stomach churned at the thought of Elsa. He couldn't quite take his eyes from the road at the moment, not even briefly to look at Maria with her mane of hair over her shoulder, still being tamed by her delicate fingers. She could never be here with me like this, darling, even if I don't know if I'll be able to stand the thought of you at the end of the day.

"I didn't mean it—"

"And you really are quite easy to tease," he interrupted. "Forgive me for enjoying it for a moment."

Maria looked down into her lap as she brought her calves together, then settled her left ankle over her right, just rubbing her short stockings against one another. I can't help it, she thought as she shifted her feet, now the right ankle on top of the left. Sometimes when you say things like that, I hear his voice. She twisted the strands of her hair around another few times, now just the last worn tendrils at the end still hanging loose. I know you don't mean it—and you can't even know it, I won't ever tell you about him, if I don't have to. But…

With another two—then three—twists in her hair, Maria found herself at those frayed ends. Slipping the loose bottom of her plait between the base of her thumb and the side of her right palm, she scrabbled for the band around her left wrist, just managed to slip her fingertips under the worn leather. It snapped back against her skin and she began to hiss before biting down on her lip. But Georg didn't look at her, he turned his head the other way instead, as though he was worried about a car like they were in the middle of Salzburg itself. You're nothing like him, she told herself as she pulled a deep breath into her chest and settled her hands into her lap, fingers nestled together to stop them fidgeting. "Of course," she said softly.

She wished she hadn't said anything as the road before them couldn't quite decide what it wanted to do: widen or narrow, let the tires roll smooth or demand a grumble with each turn and throw up a gentle spray of gravel against the door beside her. She squirmed around in her seat, her feet pressed into the floor at its threadbare carpeting as she peered out at the countryside anew. "I've only ever seen this in a park," she whispered, a hand pressed to the glass.

The trees and bushes and weeds rushed past before she could really see them. Or, really, she allowed, it was the car moving so fast she couldn't properly see a thing. But now and then in the midst of the waning browns and waxing greens, Maria noticed a brief flash of pink or yellow, once and again—and now!—a bit of red and purple. It's like a fairy tale land, and maybe I should wonder where a witch or ogre is hiding for me, she thought as she settled back into her seat. Something dug into her shoulder, like a piece of metal under the rough fabric against her back and beneath her backside. She looked back at Georg, that strange warmth she only ever felt around him beginning to churn in her belly again. "Really, where are we going?" she whispered, her hand darting toward him—and then coming back to her as soon as she realized it.

"I thought you said it didn't matter—so long as it was with me."

Maria nodded, her fingers finally twisting in her lap. "Yes—and I meant that." The car slowed—the spray of dust from the road a little less than before—and she leaned forward as Georg turned the wheel over, taking them down a smaller road than the straight and narrow one they had mostly followed since she had settled herself into the passenger seat beside him. Even as the car gained its speed again, all she saw were the same trees with their branches full of tiny leaves wakening into the spring. It all looks like what it did before, she thought as she settled onto her backside again. "But it just seems like you know exactly where you're going and I don't—"

"Oh-ho, Fräulein, why would you assume that?" Georg asked, his foot a little heavier on the right pedal for a moment as he pressed down on the clutch with his left and moved the gear shift a little higher—and now with a wince as the gears ground against one another deep in the engine. At least it isn't that much farther, I don't think I can stand too many more of your questions. It's the life I had, once, and I don't know why I want to have you here. "Perhaps I'm just following the twists in the road like you've done in the city."

Maria shook her head. "You didn't even look to see the name of the lane—"

"There isn't one marked—"

"—and you knew it wouldn't be, it looked like it. Or you didn't need to know either way. Or want to know."

His foot came down harder on the accelerator even as another smaller curve rose up on the path. "I know this place well, Maria." He turned the wheel over harder than ever, the road taking a sharp turn into a little copse before it vanished into the underbrush. "Let's leave it at that." With the slowing rumble of the tires, Georg reached over, a hand on Maria's shoulder. "I know you'll still ask, but don't worry over it."

There really wasn't much more, just ambling along until the last of the path well-worn by the staff seeking to beat the little wilds that still threatened the sense of order he always wanted. I know you sometimes liked it, Georg thought as the car slid forward a few more feet into a little patch of...well, certainly weeds, maybe even some rogue ferns with their flat leaves. "Come on," he murmured as the car finally stopped and he turned the key back in the ignition.

Maria didn't dawdle, hurrying from her own side of the car and around to the trunk to collect the basket and the blanket she had left in his hands once he led her to the car on that street in Salzburg. Georg still winced at the worn bits of the hem, especially at the edges, but he didn't say anything as he slammed the lid shut, his own quilt shoved far enough into one of the back corners, he was certain she didn't see it. Instead, he reached for her free hand with his own before she could tuck it into the frayed quilt and instead left it hanging from her forearm.

He pulled her along the path he hardly knew himself, just relying on his memories from...months ago. Now and then, she faltered as they walked, but perhaps it wasn't that surprising after the last months knowing her, especially with the knobbly tree roots more than just here and there. And now, she stumbled into him—a rush of heat running through his body as he looked back at her…

Georg didn't remember this dress, some sort of blue and flowing around her body. It was laced up along her side and drawn in at her waist. You can't actually mean it, darling, he thought, his hand drifting down to her hip as he straightened her on her feet. If I'm thinking right, I would say that you've put yourself together for me. Not your Sunday best...He snorted as he turned back to the path ahead and swept a branch aside, releasing Maria's hand long enough for her to step around him before he let it loose again as he followed her.

"What is it?"

"Hmm?"

"I thought you were laughing just now."

"Don't worry about it."

Georg couldn't stop himself, his eyes suddenly on the ground at her feet as he paused. I don't think you would do it today, not when we're here because it's what you wanted...Christ, sometimes it was such a torment, those first times they had met, seeing her how he so often craved her, now. And now, a new dress rising up along her slender frame, dancing over her backside and the dip of her waist...Though the seams appeared to be a little straighter and finer than he remembered from many of her other dresses, he still spied a few stitches that had piled up on one another here, a chunk of fabric that hadn't gathered properly there. Or maybe she had just finally hurried a little too much, Georg decided. I suppose this is your Sunday best, at least now. I still don't think I would allow any of my daughters to leave the house in something...

"We're nearly there, darling," he murmured with a shake of his head as he seized her hand, pulling her forward a little more harshly than he meant.

"Nearly?" Something at her side was hurting as Maria struggled to keep pace with Georg, the same gentle ache from her little run home from church, though the little brambles and weeds biting at the bottom of her legs itched more than hurt. "I feel like we're in another world—it's like something I read about in one of my father's books."

"Your head back up in the clouds around the mountains, is it?" he asked quietly with a turn to follow a slightly narrower path. The branches overhead were thicker, and in a month or two, the canopy of leaves would blot out even the birds overhead. It was exactly what I needed, those first days, he thought, nearly stumbling himself as he missed a tree root buried in the shadows of the still spidery switches above.

"No—"

"You're only making it easier, you know."

"Well, is that such a bad thing?"

"No, not at all." Georg paused for a moment, Maria finally catching up to him. He released her hand, instead wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. The quilt over her arm was suddenly a lump between them, caught on her hip. I don't think I can imagine you any other way, you're still nothing but a girl.

They walked on for another few minutes still hand in hand, Georg occasionally slowing to help Maria over a rough patch of earth laden with rocks and even more tree roots. And despite the heat already roiling between them—still down in his groin, if Georg was honest—somehow it was all easier here and now. It's been years since the war, but sometimes, it still seems as though it was just yesterday that someone on the street dipped their head as I walked by. But as much as I would love to walk on my way without a glance my way, I would give anything to walk out of the life I once had. I can't have it anymore, I know that much, but...He tightened his hand around hers, trying not to shake his head as he heard her hiss.

In another few minutes, the tree and branches overhead finally began to give way, a fresh ray of sunshine wandering through the tendrils and just sprouted leaves. The trunks themselves were farther apart, the roots a little less knobbly than the ones farther back on the path. He hadn't been here for months, but Georg still recalled just where to turn from the earth that had likely been flattened by deer running along with their fawns in the— No, he told himself, his next steps a little quicker. Don't even think about them, you'll only think on your own children you can't stand to look at.

Maria continued to turn her head this way and that. Wondering at the saplings rising up between the larger trees, almost losing her breath, they stretched up so far toward the sky. Trying to follow the green vines wearing their fresh buds as they clung to the bark that was peeling here and there, sometimes just the fuzzy patches of green moss seeming to hold the long brown scales together. And then squinting whenever the sun was suddenly too bright after the last ten minutes or so buried beneath a canopy of growing leaves. "Where are we, Georg?" she asked, one of her feet catching on the ground yet again.

He dragged her up again before she could pull him down, the basket in his other hand snapping back and forth against their knees. "Just a...A place I found some time ago. Far away...Away from…"

"From what?" I don't understand, she thought as the path widened and the trees finally vanished beneath a wash of fresh sunlight. "Why were you here?"

Georg shook his head as he pulled her farther into the clearing, past the last vestiges of roots and dirt, now just a first patch of spring grass beneath their feet. "Wandering, that's all," he said as he reached for the quilt on her shivering hand. "You're cold, darling." His eyes raked over her bare arms, a few patches of goose pimples already bubbling up from just where her skin peeked from beneath her sleeve down to her wrist. "Here," he went on, the unopened basket from the shop now on the ground as he peeled his suit coat away and dropped it around her before she had a chance to say anything.

It was heavier than she had expected, almost as though a weight had settled on her shoulders, the interior lining smooth on her arms—almost silky. "Thank you," she whispered as she leaned into him for a moment. "But you didn't answer my question, Georg."

"And you wouldn't let me get away with that, I know it." Though there wasn't really anywhere else to go—he hadn't really traipsed on past the edge of the clearing that lay a few feet ahead—Georg picked the wooden basket up again, his eyes flitting here and there for the smoothest patch of the earth. "I've done quite a bit of that in the last year."

"But I still don't know what you mean."

"Some day, perhaps." His shoes hadn't caught on a root or fern since they had finally wandered out of the thicker forest, so dropped the basket again. "But you wanted to enjoy today, Maria."

She nodded as she pulled her quilt off of her arm, a quick snap of it against the afternoon air—cooler than under the bright sun in Salzburg—loosening the wrinkles. She almost winced as she saw a few long strands of hair fall away as well. "It's all I had to bring. I know it doesn't look the best."

Georg reached for her right hand again, her fingers coming away from the quilt slowly—folded into his almost one by one. You're right, though I don't know if I really care. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I didn't—"

"Not in as many words."

"But...I suppose all I think is that I asked you to...for this afternoon. And you didn't ask me why, even if you must have just thought I'm still a girl. I know you do, even if you don't say it anymore."

"You are, at least next to me," Georg said as he wrenched the quilt away, finally letting it fall in a pile onto the forest floor. "No amount of your...annoyance, I suppose, will stop me from saying it."

"But you keep giving me so much—even if you say it's nothing I should worry over and the navy has taken care of you."

"And that matters so much to you?" Maria nodded. "I think from what you never talk about, you aren't quite used to it."

She nodded again. It was always something, whether a handful of schillings for her lunch that Sunday afternoon that felt a lifetime ago or simply never caring about the smallest treats that were a luxury for her. "I still don't...I know it doesn't trouble you at all—"

"So don't worry about it. Didn't you want to just be happy today, darling? You may not have said it, but I think you're not that used to it." A little sigh whistled through his lips. She had tried, Georg knew that, must have spent many a night with a needle and thread in her hands. Thinking of how you'll look for me. "Someone thinking over you, like that."

Georg hardly saw her shake her head, hardly heard her whisper "No" as he folded her into his side with another embrace, another kiss pressed to her temple as the gentle curls of her hair scratched at his mouth despite the braid he had watched her create from corner of his eye as the city disappeared. And I'm not sure why you're here if you think that is what you want from today, love. You think you know me after the last months, but…

He turned his face over his shoulder, just clearing the top of Maria's head. What would they be doing now, the elder children he had sentenced to days at home doing nothing, rather like sailors he had disciplined when their furtive cigarettes in the farthest corner of the ship or submarine had suddenly turned less secretive. Were they clinging to...God, he'd really forgotten her name, that dumpy women with her cheap spectacles. His youngest daughters were almost certainly whining to their nurse, Gretl still struggling with her words and how to form the simplest sentences, Marta running about like an animal whenever she escaped her keeper.

He glanced down, his pulse rising as he caught sight of Maria. Her face was pushed into his chest, one of her hands knotted into his shirt, slightly wrinkled now that the gentle breeze had bitten at him. "But you do," he heard her whisper into his chest, fingers even tighter in the linen.

"Don't ask me, Maria. I don't think you would like—"

"Hmm?" It was just a little sound muffled by his front as one of her arms suddenly snaked around his back, her body pushed into his from her breasts down to the little hollow beneath her hips, right against his groin.

"Nothing." He tugged a hand from between them, catching at the tail end of her braid and fingertips already tugging at the band to release the mane of hair that had haunted his dreams—nightmares, really. You wouldn't like what I have to say.


* As a reminder, this is Lukas, the man who was attracted to Maria despite her clear lack of interest.