Chapter 41: Impressions

With the door firmly closed behind them, Louisa pulled her hands apart, the damp frog still squirming in her right. It dropped free when she opened this one, a gentle ribbit rising up as it hit the smooth stone, hop-striding away in the midday sun. She wiped its slime away on the bottom hem of her skirt, though a thin layer had already dried over her skin. We'll have to change before dinner, she thought as she shuffled forward with her siblings. And Father isn't here to complain either way.

"Eww!" Marta squealed, the frog brushing against one of her legs before she could twist away.

"That's why we didn't tell you," Louisa muttered. You'll find your way home somehow.

"How did you hold—"

"Be quiet," Friedrich snapped, his hands down on his younger sister's shoulders to push her to one of the stone benches at the edge of the courtyard. "You should sit down before we go." Turning back, he waved at Gretl. "You, too."

Gretl wrinkled her nose, her hands jammed onto her hips as she ran past him. "I don't need to!"

"You always struggle to keep up," Liesl said softly, catching up to her in a few quick steps. "Just for a few minutes."

They all settled on one of the benches against the tan stone wall of the courtyard; this one was bathed in the warm summer sun while the other shivered in the shadow of the trees. The littlest girl sat in Liesl's lap as she often did, a butterfly she had caught in her hands tickling her skin as it beat its wings. "Stop it," she giggled, the little creature now flapping against her nose.

At the other end, Friedrich shoved his shoes into the gravel, kicking a small spray away. "But you see? It never really matters, no matter what you said, Liesl."

"What?"

"Hmm?" The noise startled the butterfly between Gretl's palms and it fluttered against her fingers—then her nose—before finally flying up toward the blue sky. "No, don't!" She pushed herself from Liesl's lap—the older girl grunted against her tiny fists—and raced after it for a few steps, leaping up and grabbing for it...only to catch a fistful of air. "Friedrich!" she whined as she turned back, stamping each shoe into the gravel.

"Don't blame me! You shouldn't have caught it!"

"Let's not worry about that," Brigitta said, sat in the middle of the bench between Kurt and Marta.

Friedrich ground on of his shoes into the gravel again, the dust finally wafting up around his long socks. "It would been the same even if he hadn't been so angry after Frau Adler didn't even stay the night."

"Who?" Marta asked.

"The last one," Louisa said as she slouched forward next to Friedrich, elbows digging into her thighs as she folded her hands together. "Don't worry about it. She doesn't matter."

"We knew Father was leaving," Brigitta said as Marta leaned into her side, her head a little too low to even reach the elder girl's shoulder. "He always does if he says so."

At the far end of the bench, only a few feet from the tree's retreating shadow, Gretl dropped into Liesl's lap once more. "I wish he didn't," she whispered as Liesl wrapped her arms around her chest.

"I know," Liesl said into her neck. "We all do." But...sometimes I think there's more coming and going when he's gone.

Louisa snorted as she stood with a swish of her skirt; scraping her hands against the stone edge hadn't loosened the frog's dried slime. "You always say that."

Liesl shrugged as she pulled Gretl closer to her chest. "It's true." Sometimes, the house felt more alive without their father at home. Telegrams and letters were more plentiful, and even the staff seemed to have visitors whenever he was in Vienna for weeks at a time. Dropping one of her arms to hold Gretl still—the little girl was twisting around as another butterfly wandered by—she smiled to herself. At least that's something for me to look forward to, she thought with a sputter as the top of Gretl's crown of rough hair scraped her lips. I do get to see you whenever Franz has a telegram.

He was her own secret, or at least Liesl hoped so. She saw Rolfe so infrequently, he sometimes felt like a ghost to her. Not only did she have to wait for a telegram to arrive for a mere chance to see him, but so often, there was no reason for her to escape from the villa's walls, no excuse for her to hurry outside for even a few minutes. I can't quite remember the last time we had a few moments together. At least a month, back before Fräulein Mathilde— "Ow!" Liesl grunted as Gretl's little fists smacked against her upper arms. "Be careful!"

"I don't want her," her youngest sister said.

"What?"

"I don't want her to be here."

A few steps away in the bright sunshine, Louisa turned around, still scrubbing her hands together. "No one does."

"What do you think she'll be like?" Marta asked quietly.

"I don't care," Kurt said, one of his swinging legs shoes digging into the gravel. "We never find out."

"She seemed nice," Brigitta said as she leaned forward, reaching around Kurt to tug at one of Friedrich's sleeves. "Don't you think so?"

"What?" he asked as he yanked his arm free.

"At least nicer than Fräulein Josephine."

"Isn't everyone?"

Brigitta frowned as she turned to the other end of the bench. "Liesl?" Her sister didn't answer, just running one hand along Gretl's shoulder. "Liesl?"

"Hmm?" she hummed, eyes darting toward the thick gate that kept back the road and the real world outside their little gilded prison. Sometimes, I think it might be nice if I went back to Salzburg with you. At least one of those days when you come in the afternoon when Father is away. I'm sure Frau Schmidt wouldn't be happy, but I don't know what she would do—and the new governess definitely wouldn't. Gretl's hands thrashed against her again, but she just tightened her embrace. And I'm sure I could be back before anyone—

"What are you thinking about?"

"The—same things you are," she said softly, the little daydream intensifying. It's been years since I road a bicycle, but I'm sure you would keep me safe. It would be cramped, but she was certain she could fit behind Rolfe on his small bicycle, the wind whipping at her face as he pedaled around the curve in the road she might not go past the entire summer. I always feel like I could depend on you. He would have to be careful whenever they arrived in the city, figuring out how to stop without either of them falling onto the cobblestone. And where would we go, Rolfe, on our little trip to the city? You know it better than I do, it's been so—

"No you're not!" Louisa said loudly as she stomped back to the bench.

"She probably is," Brigitta said with a giggle as she leaned back and peered over Marta's head. "Father isn't home for any telegrams."

Her face was red, Liesl could feel it as she peeled her arms away from Gretl and slipped her free from her lap. Her sister plopped onto the gravel, almost losing her balance until Liesl pulled her shoulders back straight—and then squirmed free to run across the way. "Weren't you talking about the new governess?" Liesl always hated whenever a new governess arrived. Whether they were older with grown children of their own or as young as this one, it always began the same way. She wouldn't be treated like the others and they would simply be friends...until she found herself banished to the room she shared with Louisa and Brigitta when the others were sent to bed, like she was still a child. They never act like I'm the oldest, she thought as she shook a few wrinkles from her skirt. I may not be grown yet, but I'm getting there!

"She's younger, isn't she?" Kurt said as he stood, arms stretched up over his head.

Friedrich shrugged, already stretching his own longer legs as he turned on the hard stone. "Frau Schmidt usually doesn't take too long to find someone."

"It took a long time to find Frau Wimmer!" Louisa snapped.

"Who?" Marta asked softly as she scooched forward.

"Nothing."

"You say that—"

"You're too young to remember, both of you."

"That's not fair!" Gretl shouted as she skipped back through the gravel.

"A little bit," Friedrich grumbled.

Hands shoved in the pockets of his short trousers, he walked away from his siblings. You're all going to keep talking, he thought, scuffing at the toes of his shoes as he rounded the short hedge. And I don't want to talk anymore.

The happier years seemed so long ago, like it was a place he had visited when he was a boy. Not just the afternoons and evenings with both his parents and his brother and sisters, music and laughter flowing all around, but summer days just like this one at the edge of the lake with his father. Friedrich coughed lightly, then deeper and louder to bury the sniffle. I won't do that, even if you aren't here to tell me that a man wouldn't. You aren't here to tell me anything like that—or listen. He didn't quite understand how his arms and legs could still hurt sometimes, though he had always supposed he would grow rather taller, just like...his father. Harder still were the occasional mornings when he not only woke with the pain in his limbs, but the unexpected mess between his legs and the faint memory of one of the prettier girls in his class at school.

I don't know who I'm supposed to tell or ask, Friedrich thought as he pulled his shirt away from his chest, desperate for a little bit of a breeze. I think I would be embarrassed to ask even you, Father, but who else? The only men around the villa were the staff members who always tried to stay away from them. Franz was the only one who ever even talked to them and he would rather talk to his older sister than the butler. And the governesses, even those who had been married and widowed, some of them whom must have had sons of their own...Well, Liesl would still be easier to talk to.

He undid the kerchief's knot, shaking it out in the stagnant air before wiping it across the back of his neck. It wasn't too hot today, but Friedrich was still sweaty. I always am now, he thought as he wiped his hand on his jacket's hem before he fixed the kerchief back around his shoulders. Something else I want to talk to you about. It wouldn't need to be much, maybe just a little time skipping stones the way we used to when I didn't want to listen to Kurt anymore. I know now that you were just pretending for me, how the lake was like the ocean and that you could see Asia like we saw the other bank of of the lake.

"Friedrich!" his youngest sister shouted. "Friedrich!"

"What now?" he snapped as he turned around just in time to see her rushing toward him, her arms wide open.

"You're tall—"

"Not as tall as Father!" Marta said a little more quietly, just a few steps behind her.

"What?" He grunted as Gretl wrapped her arms around his waist, stumbling a step back as he struggled to find his balance. "Be careful," he muttered as the low hedge in the courtyard scratched at his calves. "You're not as small as you think!"

"Catch me another?"

Shoving his hands between her sleeves and his front, Friedrich managed to push her arms away, though he held onto her as she almost stumbled backward. "Another what?"

"A butterfly," Marta said, grinning up at him as she threaded her arms around his wrist.

"A butterfly?" he snapped as he disentangled himself, Gretl now sure enough that she wouldn't fall on her backside.

Gretl nodded, coiled braids bouncing atop either eat. "A butterfly."

Friedrich rolled his eyes as he spun Marta around and gently pushed her back toward their siblings. "You'll just lose…" His youngest sister pouted up at him as she slammed her hands on her hips the way she often did with their governesses when she didn't get her way. "Oh, fine," he said softly. I don't have to think about her yet.

Still in the middle of the little courtyard, Gretl must have already spotted a new insect fluttering by: she was already running and pointing with Marta only a few steps behind, leaping up at something he didn't see. Really, all he saw now was the greying sky over the house's terracotta shingles, the sun just a faint circle under thickening clouds. Cupping one hand in front of his mouth, Friedrich called, "You might as well enjoy it now."

"What?" she shouted back with another leap and landing in a small cloud of dust gnawing at her ankles.

"It probably won't be nice enough to be out tomorrow."

Grasping up at something in the air—then opening her hand and frowning—Marta asked, "What?"

"It's going to rain tonight."

"You don't know that!" Kurt shouted, still sitting on the bench with the rest of their sisters.

Friedrich waved over the wall behind him, the clouds closer still and thickening. "What else do you think that—"

"You're not like…" Kurt stopped.

I know what you meant, Friedrich thought as he hurried past Marta and caught Gretl's shoulder before she had a chance to go much farther and into the shadows at the back corner of the courtyard. Father always knows things like that.

"We should probably go," Liesl said as she stood, waving Marta toward her. "She'll have us doing our lessons all summer as soon as she can."

Friedrich didn't let Gretl linger too long, just telling her he was sure they could find another butterfly friend for her on their walk—that they would probably be happier with the flowers and bushes of the grounds than the gravel and hedge of the fenced courtyard. She pouted again and grumbled, but finally took her place beside him at the end of the line before the large gate squealed open and they finally stumbled onto the dusty lane that led away from the house.

Up ahead of Liesl, Louisa and Brigitta walked side by side, leaning in toward one another now and then as they whispered behind their hands. Deciding what to do next that will be better than a frog, he decided as he hurried after Gretl when a large moth drew her attention. "She's a teacher, not a governess," he murmured as a cooler wind drifted down over a gentle hill just east of the lake. Now, Liesl was up with the older girls and Kurt's attention was off the path they always walked as he crouched down to take a closer took at something peeking up through the grass. "It's all going to be the way it has been. She won't be here very long."

By the time they returned to the villa, clambering up the stairs from the grass now whipping side to side as the growing wind bore down, the entire sky was grey.

O O O

The household was seated around the dinner table a few minutes before 7:30 that evening—almost everyone. The children waited in their white wicker chairs in their evening dresses and suits, uniforms discarded after they returned from their walk, scattered and out of order like they were at every mealtime. At the head of the table, his back to the open doors that led into the grand center hall, Franz sat where he always did when the Captain was not at home, still just wearing his waistcoat, his spotless coat hanging in the cupboard in his quarters. Waiting as he drummed his fingers along starched white linen tablecloth and glanced from one young face to another, wishing he could trust a governess to keep them in line for even the simplest moments.

And that was the problem. At the opposite end of the table where Frau Schmidt took her meals in what now seemed the inevitable aftermath of a governess vanishing in a maelstrom of frustration. But thus far this evening, it was empty, just a few shadows dancing now and then as the candles on the sideboard flickered. I shouldn't be surprised, he thought as he propped his elbow on the very edge. As much as I appreciate that the girl's blood could almost certainly be controlled by writing to a convent, I'm still not certain—

A clatter grew louder, like a flurry of shoes hurrying over those gleaming tiles, probably still with the abbey's dust shoved into their soles. At least you saw fit to show up almost on time. You'll learn. The pounding of steps louder than ever, Franz turned back, his elbow on the chair back…"Thank you for joining us, Fräulein Maria," he whispered, the girl breathing hard as she shuddered to a stop. And winced as she somehow knocked against the edge of the door that was almost flush to the hinges. Perhaps.

She nodded her head faintly as she walked around the table, the children's gazes following her as she approached her chair. "Good evening, children," she murmured as she pulled her seat forward and smoothed down her hideous grey dress.

"Good evening, Fräulein Maria," the children chirped in tandem, only one of the youngest girls giggling as she suddenly leapt up with a quiet squeal.

Maybe something you're not used to, Fräulein. But you don't have to worry right now. They know better than to cross me when their father isn't in residence.

Dinner was quiet, only interrupted right at the start when Maria asked about a prayer to open the meal. The children folded their hands awkwardly, Gretl swinging her legs impatiently as she murmured a few grateful words. Maria just managed to not wince when one of those little shoes smacked her just beneath her knee. And despite the summer heat, Maria couldn't stop herself from shivering once or twice. The convent was never noisy except for the city noise that drifted over the stone walls, silence and contemplation prized as a godly virtue. But the quiet that had settled over the long dinner table with only the clank of shining forks and knives to shatter it for a moment...It must be so lonely, she thought as the empty plates from the main course were cleared by two of the maids. Especially for Marta and Gretl. Her gaze darted to the little girl just beside her, chubby hands awkwardly grasping the large water glass Maria had pushed close to her at the beginning of the meal. But for all of them, really. The little girls may not even remember it any differently.

The silence continued as dessert was served, chocolate cake Maria tried not to eat too quickly. Sweets beyond fruit and honey weren't exactly forbidden in the abbey, but they never crossed the threshold, leaving her sweet tooth starved. The only interruption the entire meal was the delivery of a folded telegram to the butler at the head of the table—and Liesl's attention suddenly drawn over her shoulder to the large window. "Uta, who delivered it?"

Franz grunted quietly as he opened the pale yellow telegram, his eyes swiftly running across the terse message. "It doesn't matter to you, Liesl, you know that." As Liesl frowned and folded her hands in her lap, the butler shoved his chair back over the tile with a rough scrape. "Finish your dinner, then up to your rooms. I'm sure you have enough to amuse yourselves there." There was little difference after he left: a little undercurrent of whispering amongst the children, Friedrich scowling at Maria over his already finished plate, and Liesl squirming in her chair as she tried to peer through the curtains behind her one time too many—and the beginnings of a heavy rain drumming overhead.

Maybe it's what you wanted, Father, Maria thought as she and the children finally left the table to be cleared by the staff, parting ways at the little landing where the staircases to the opposite wings of the house diverged. They don't seem like any children I've ever met.

Once in her room, Maria struggled to relax. With her windows open to cool down despite the growing rain and wind—even a few far off rumbles of thunder—she peeled her dress away from her shoulders, the breeze welcome on her clammy skin. She shook her dress a few times, the last of the dust from her walk down the gravel lane finally loosening. With the arms folded in and the skirt folded up at the waist, Maria poked at a little patch of the hem. A couple stitches had come loose, something she could easily fix if one of the maids of even Frau Schmidt lent her a needle and thread.

Opening lightly worn wardrobe, Maria nestled it at the bottom beside the pair of spare shoes and winter boots she had unpacked earlier. It was almost empty, the rod just beneath the upper shelf mostly holding loose hangers. Her books stood at attention in the shadows above, but she had left most of her things in her carpetbag, now shoved beneath her bed. Quickly stripping away her shift, she snatched one of her nightdresses away, shoving her arms through the sleeves despite the warm night. It won't last with the storm, she thought as she closed the wardrobe door, her hand pressed against the other to stop it from popping open.

Dropping onto the edge of her bed, Maria pulled her legs up and her nightdress down over her feet. She folded her hands in her lap as she looked around again. It was still the largest and nicest room she had ever called her own, but...Her hands were already twisting and trembling. She hadn't had that much time to think about what Frau Schmidt had said just before the children ran down the stairs. Even the time she had had to herself in the afternoon had been filled with other thoughts, either about the children or tumbling through her own memories as she dragged her little life from her carpetbag. Or at least, some of her memories; she thrust her old wedding dress and the trinkets from him as far away from the light as she could, far behind the boots she wouldn't need until long after she said farewell to this house. At least back there, no one else would ever see them, whether her dress or...

"A whistle," Maria whispered as she stretched her legs back out and her arms up over her head. "I was listening when Frau Schmidt said that, but I suppose I was just more worried about trying to learn all the children's names and ages. Why did it have to—"

A sharper clap of thunder broke from the sky: closer and louder, one of her open windows rattling as the vase of flowers quivered and the thin curtain whipped about with the strong gust. "Oh…" Back on her feet and padding across the room as the panes snapped back against the frame, Maria yanked it closed—and peered down toward the ground. A pale trellis ended just a foot or two beneath the outer sill, dark green ivy vines clinging to the stucco wall where they hadn't woven themselves along the wooden trellis. I hope I don't have to keep the window closed all summer, she thought as the pulled the shivering window closed and fixed the latch in place. I know Frau Schmidt did say they had some rocks under my mattress before I even arrived. She tucked a finger beneath the latch to loosen it, then opened it just enough to peek down toward the ground again. She couldn't quite see the grass below, just the thickening wall of dark rain. But no one would be able to come up like that. Could they?

One more crash of thunder and shudder of the windowpane persuaded Maria back from the window that she locked a second time. I guess I won't worry about that, she thought as she turned around quickly, her nightdress twisting around her ankles. Leaning down, she yanked one side free and then pulled herself upright again with a yawn into her elbow. But...Her eyes darted around the room again, from the gently discolored iron stove she wouldn't need this summer back to her wardrobe where all her secrets were safe...There's nothing to worry about, there really isn't. And honestly, even if there was—which there isn't—Frau Schmidt must know this house well and she thinks he won't be home for the summer. And...Maria shivered, finally hurrying away from the window and around her bed, ready for her dressing gown. No matter who the Captain actually is, I can't think about him when I think about these children. They aren't him—or him—

Her bedroom door flew open, startling Maria before she had a chance to open her wardrobe. Spinning around, she nearly missed Gretl clutching at the doorframe, her head hardly reaching the knob. Hands behind her pale nightdress, the little girl just stood, her hair running down her back from a low pigtail and her eyes wide. "Gretl? Are you scared?"

Gretl shook her head—glanced up—then launched herself from the wall as a closer eruption of thunder shook the windows again. Maria grunted as her little arms wrapped themselves around her waist, then loosened them to crouch down. "You're not frightened of a thunderstorm, are you?" she asked softly as she pushed a chunk of Gretl's hair back from her face. She shook her head again, but Maria didn't wait, instead picking Gretl up before she had a chance to turn around. As those chubby little hands reached around her neck, Maria tried not to groan, the little girl much heavier than she had expected. "You just stay right here with me," she went on as she dropped onto the very edge of her bedspread, almost knocking Gretl against the bedpost. Gretl's hold on her shoulders loosened and Maria slid her forward on her lap before her leg had a chance to begin tingling. "Where are the others?"

"They're asleep," Gretl said quickly, "they're not scared."

"Oh—" She couldn't talk as Gretl squeezed her tightly again after another rumble of thunder, the top of her head right at the base of Maria's throat. And...another set of small feet was padding down the corridor. I can guess. Pushing Gretl's face away, Maria turned back to the door. Now it was Marta in her white nightdress clutching at the doorframe: pigtails gone and her face pale and eyes just as wide as Gretl's had been. "Look," she said, nudging Gretl's shoulder toward the door, then again until she turned, now missing the flash of lightning through the window at the head of Maria's bed. "Are you frightened, too?"

Marta nodded. "Yes! It's scary alone in—" Thunder finally answered the lightning and silenced her; rather than running, she pushed herself harder into the wall, her dark hair fanning out against the white paint.

Maria moved Gretl up against her hip again, freeing one hand for a moment to wave Marta forward, rewarded with a small step. "Come on, Marta, here on the bed."

"Really?" she asked softly as she took another step, bare toes peeking from beneath her nightdress's hem.

"Well, just this once."

As Marta hurried around to the far side of the bed as the door slowly creaked closed behind her, Maria pushed an arm under Gretl's backside as she stood and turned, then dropped her softly onto the bed. Bringing one of her own legs up from the floor, she tossed the gleaming bedspread and clambered in beneath the sheets just before Gretl crawled up toward the head of the bed frame. Another gust of cooler air rushed against her calf, bare as the bottom of her nightdress slid up past her knee. It had cooled more than she realized with the storm moving in, the summer heat finally breaking. "Frau Bauer always sent us back to bed."

Fiddling with the bedclothes and scraping her feet on the sheet to bring her nightdress back down, Maria glanced at Marta. "Hmm?"

The young girl was already pushed up against her with her legs curled up and knees digging into Maria's thigh, warm despite her faint shaking. "When we were scared."

On her other side, Gretl was squirming, slapping her arms down against the top of the bed and smiling, the storm forgotten with only the wind roaring outside for a moment. "Keep still, Gretl, you don't want to wake anyone—" The loudest clap of thunder yet left both girls clutching at Maria, who was now struggling to breathe against their tight hold.

"Why does it do that?" Marta mumbled against Maria's flank, her hair plastered across her face.

"Well…" She gently pulled her other arm free from Gretl's chin. "The lightning says something to the thunder and the thunder answers back."

"The lightning must be nasty."

Maria smiled, laughing quietly as she nudged Marta up with her forearm. "Not really."

Marta looked up, her hair now in her eyes and cascading along her nose. "Then why does the thunder get so angry? It makes me want to cry."

"Well now," Maria said as she folded her knees up to bring more of her bedspread closer to the girls, "whenever anything bothers me and I'm feeling unhappy, I just try and think of nice things."

"What kind of things?" the little girls asked in tandem as they rustled at her sides.

"Ah…" Maria twisted her left arm from beneath Marta, brushing the girl's hair free from her face as she did. "Well, let me see, nice things." Something on her chin itched and Maria scratched it away with a finger before she had a chance to reach up for her own hair. Even after slicing her thick braid away years ago in her small washroom in Innsbruck, she still found herself trying to tangle her fingers in those old locks of hair. "Daffodils," she said after a moment. "Green meadows. Skies full of stars. Raindrops on roses and brown paper packages tied up…" Maria stopped as she cleared her throat and winced at the faint creaking of the bed frame as her feet slipped on the sheets. I can't think about that right now—

"Fräulein Maria?"

Maria finally pulled her feet up, now crossing her legs carefully so she didn't push either of the children away. "Yes?" she asked as she tucked the bedspread around Gretl and then pulled her messy pigtail loose from where the folds had swallowed it.

"Tied up with what?" she asked.

"Yes, what?" Marta called from her other side.

Maria pulled her hands into her lap, a few faint tears already glistening her eyes as she leaned back against the bed frame's head, the metal rods cold and hard even through her nightdress. "Tied up with string," she whispered as she folded her bare right hand over her left. It's still unreal sometimes, everything that happened and how it all disappeared like it was a dream. She forced herself to smile. "What else would you tie something up with?"

"Ribbon!" Marta shouted as she squirmed up onto her knees. "Pink ribbon!"

"Blue!" Gretl countered, pulling herself up with her stubby fingers around Maria's arm.

"That wouldn't be very nice."

"You just like pink more!"

The two little girls still bickering across her lap, Maria tightened her hand on her wrist. It was starting to tremble. These are a few of my favorite things. I've been thinking of them for years—and trying to forget them. Brown paper packages tied up with string and a girl in a white dress— "Let's talk about something different, girls," she said loudly as she yanked her hands apart, burying her fingers in the bedclothes before they turned clammy. "Would you like to hear a story?"

"Yes!" Gretl said as she plopped back down onto the bed.

"What kind?" Marta asked, now sitting on her feet with the bedspread pulled up around her chest and held in place beneath her armpits.

"Well, what are your favorite stories?"

"We don't have any."

"Not any?" To her other side as she wriggled deeper under the bedclothes, Gretl shook her head. "But you must know one you want to hear."

"Frau Bauer didn't tell us any."

"Father doesn't like it," Gretl added.

"He doesn't?" Maria asked softly as she slipped either arm around the girls. Maybe it's for the best he isn't at home. There are so many things he doesn't like that children should have and do—and be.

"Louisa says that Mother—liked them," Marta said, hardly managing to talk through her yawn.

"Oh, I see." She pulled them tighter. You really did mean anything, Frau Schmidt. "Then I'll tell you one of my favorites. It's from one of my father's books."

The tale tumbled from Maria's lips easily with no need for the battered book at the top of her wardrobe, the soldier and his wondrous friends. But the girls laughed and gasped as though it was all new and unfamiliar. ("How did the man live through winter? He must always be cold!" "What if he sneezed—ohh…") Every now and then, she even giggled with Marta and Gretl when something sounded so unbelievable that they said it must not be true. ("Wouldn't it hurt for him to take his legs off?" "Things were different then.")

Both girls were both yawning by the time the old soldier and his friends had the whole of the king's wealth to live on for the rest of their days. The thunder had calmed to the occasional distant rumble with no more lightning to be seen through the curtains; the rain no longer drummed against the glass; and even the wind had eased as she had told them it would when the soldier met his friend whose breath turned windmills miles away. "I haven't had a story like that myself for a long time," Maria said as she smoothed Gretl's hair away from her forehead.

"Why not?" Marta mumbled from her other side.

"It hasn't seemed—right for a while. That's all."

"Oh…" was all Marta managed now, her movements beside Maria slower than before.

I know I should send you to bed, if I'm meant to keep everything in order, but...it's just not right. "Girls," she whispered as she slid down deeper into the warm sheets, "do you want to stay with me tonight?"

They were hardly awake, but Marta and Gretl were both nodding against their pillows as Maria nestled her head on them right where they came together. She began another story, this time of a young princess with a wretched stepmother with seven dwarves for her friends. ("She didn't have any...any brothers or sisters?" "No, neither do I, Marta, or at least none I really know.") She had just finished finding a nicer way to tell them about laces drawn so tightly they choked the breath from Snow White and begun the evil queen's plot to deliver a poisoned comb when she heard their breathing slow. To her left, a soft snore from Marta was whistling against her nightdress, the cotton sleeve lightly tickling her skin; she had to choke back a giggle. And to her right, most of Gretl's face had vanished, swallowed up by the bedspread and Maria's nightclothes.

I don't know how anyone could leave this behind, Maria thought as she yawned herself, not able to hide it behind a sleeve. But she would have to loosen her arms soon before they went numb with the girls' heads sitting on her elbows. Neither Marta nor Gretl moved despite the gentle wave beneath them. And I'll have to see to the lights. Just not yet. She could move the bottom half of her left arm, though she could only really touch Marta's hair, now just running her fingers along it. And I'm sure you wouldn't like this either—you always liked things orderly, didn't you? But of course, if you were both—

"No!" she hissed, crushing her head back and through the thin edges of the pillows, right down onto the soft mattress. "It doesn't matter anymore and there's no point in worrying." Her fingers were already twisting around the ends of Marta's hair; at least it was easier to look at when it was down and free rather than bound in braids. "But—won't it be enough, Father? If I'm here and I stay, even if I'm afraid? But I guess…" She clenched her eyes as she yawned again, wider and louder than before as she slipped her arms free with just the faintest protest from Gretl before her breathing evened. "I guess that's for tomorrow."

The next morning

Something scratched at her nose, thick and coarse, and Maria pulled her face up and away. But it came with her, more of it stuck to her mouth like it was caught on the inside of her lips. She clamped her eyes closed harder, the first few dregs of sunlight breaking through her eyelids. It was tickling now, the familiar tension rising up along her nose along with the smell of fresh damp air, the pressure building as she waited to sneeze...But it faded, whatever it was chafing on her skin suddenly disappearing.

I wonder what time— Now something turned just beside her, a little warm lump tucked into her side. Up on her elbows, a little knot in her neck crackling as she twisted her head to the side, Maria sighed a little. Gretl was still nestled into her right side and turning to the left, she saw Marta as well, though now turned away from her with one hand beneath her chin and the other thrown up above her head. Both still sleeping soundly.

Sliding up through the bedclothes carefully, Maria pushed her nightdress down to her knees; the hem had bunched up around her thighs through the night. In the little nook just past Marta, the window that had rattled and banged about with the wind and rain last night was still and placid as the sunlight gleamed through the gauzy curtains that hung behind the drapes. It was all still here: the little tables with their little lamps, the flowers, the wardrobe...

"Hmm?" A little murmur drifted up from beside her, Marta finally rolling over toward her with a slow blink and a rub of arm against her dark eyes. "Fräulein—Maria?"

"Go back to sleep." She shoved a few stray chunks of hair back from her forehead. "Just a few more minutes."

Marta didn't argue, the faint snoring beginning again as Maria just kept brushing that hair back again and again. I don't know what sort of father you would have been, but I think I would have been a wonderful mother, Georg, if everything had turned out differently when that school year began. Her hand was heavier on Marta's head for a moment. A lot of things could have been different then. Dropping her head back, she hissed as it clanged against one of the metal rods behind her. Here and...in Vienna. She coughed as a lump swelled up in her throat. It wasn't fair to me when my father left, but—I couldn't have done—

Gretl was squirming beside her as she had been the night before, her little hands balled into fists flailing about. Maria pushed her to the side, just far enough to spare her legs any bruises from her knuckles. Don't worry about that right now, she told herself as she began to rub her hand along Gretl's back, rewarded with a quiet whine. The past is in the past. I'll believe it someday.

Maria didn't rouse the little girls for a while, longer than the few minutes she had promised Marta. She couldn't bring herself to, just sitting there with them beside her, arms now settled around their shoulders. It would have been lovely, Maria told herself as her own heavy eyelids drooped. Tall, I'm sure. You're tall, Georg, and I'm tall enough for a woman. Blue eyes as well. Under her right hand, Gretl was stirring anew. But I shouldn't think about that anymore.

Neither of the girls were happy when Maria finally persuaded them to sit up, both of them wearing little halos of crinkled hair and knots. "Time to run along," she murmured as she threw the bedspread away from the three of them, their legs snaking beneath the sheets like tree roots. "Before everyone wonders where you are."

Gretl was already pouting. "But—"

"Do we have to?" Marta said loudly over her.

"Just to get ready for the day." Maria smiled down at the little feigned frowns, just brushing her hand against Gretl's face as she drew Marta closer with her other. "It won't be forever, just until breakfast."

They scrambled away in a flurry of awkward steps, one of Marta's feet almost tangling in the end of her nightdress before she and Gretl vanished into the hallway, the youngest still spinning around with a farewell wave. "I told you, it's just for a while," Maria muttered as she tugged her own feet free of the mussed sheets.

With her bedroom's door closed, she finally hurried into her own washroom, off white tile gleaming in the sunlight before she even turned on the light. After a minute or two of waiting for the first tendrils of steam to emerge from the shower tap—Maria combed her fingers through her hair while she waited—she finally peeled away her clothes and stepped beneath the spray. Through the pale cloud, she reached blindly for the freshly unwrapped soap she had set on the bathtub's inner edge yesterday afternoon. She hadn't brought anything with her apart from her toothbrush and the last remnants of tooth powder, not really thinking of it until she emptied the last of her belongings. Despite her odd status at the abbey, she showered just as the lay sisters she roomed with did, with soap that still smelled like it must have five hundred years ago and coarse washcloths.

Tilting her head back to keep the end of her hair dry, Maria sighed as the heat and water coursed along her skin. "I can't stay for too long," she whispered as she turned around, the warm water now running down along her bare back. Wrapping one arm around, she caught a palmful of water that she rubbed over the back of her neck, the skin somehow thick with sweat from the night. She dragged another around to scrub across one of her shoulders—

The spray of water sputtered for a moment and a quick chill raised bumps down her arms and chest, even her breasts. She clamped her arms down across them, wincing as the faint ache appeared. It was already flowing again, but cold for a moment, then tepid and finally hot. I suppose that's to remind me why I'm here. I'm not here to wonder what...Maria still closed her eyes, the little face she had imagined and tried to forget over all the years floating by, still as vibrant as the first time she allowed herself to think of it. Oh, never mind, she thought as she cleared her throat and splashed another handful of water across her face. Remember—where you are. You aren't there anymore.

A/N: I had to change the thunderstorm scene. It's always irked me a teeny bit how six children can all be that scared of a thunderstorm...but I know that's because I actively enjoy thunderstorms. And to all who will be celebrating, Merry Christmas! And if not, have a wonderful week!