Chapter Two
It took five weeks before Maria could make good on her promise and introduce Agathe and her brood to her beloved mountains.
Spring bloomed in full force, and Maria was outside with the primaries so often the nuns muttered in exasperation to each other the young Fraulein might as well go ahead and move her desk and blackboard (and entire classroom while she was at it) out of doors. It was the kind of weather with warm sunshine and playful mistral winds that just beckoned for her to go, to explore, to be a little wild.
She herself spent long hours in the woods, walking through the fields with their freshly sown crop, taking the train high up into the very heart of the mountains. But Agathe von Trapp's schedule was just impossible.
Maria once dreamed of how nobles must live, as most girls do. She'd furnished an imaginary houseful of staff, a closet full of pretty dresses, an abundance of time, flitting from garden tea parties to evening galas.
She herself was not vain. Her own clothes had always been plain. She didn't shrink hard work. The nuns, of course, had always extolled the virtue of hard work. They had taught that vanity and indulgence was sinful. But Maria never really believed it. She might never have had much, but she couldn't help but find beauty everywhere – nature was just so lovely. She couldn't help the elaborate daydreams. Couldn't help the side of her determined to be mischievous and find fun.
So even had Agathe really been the pampered social creature of Maria's imagination, they likely still would have gotten along splendidly.
But within a week Maria felt ashamed of her assumptions. In what time Agathe von Trapp had that was not devoted to her children, she spent running a busy household. While Maria and the nuns looked after the children, Agathe was out shopping for the house, running errands, attending teacher's meetings and doctor's appointments, all with baby Gretl in tow, not yet five months old. Some ladies, Maria learned, hired help for their babies, but Agathe had insisted on nursing all seven. Somehow, on top of it all, she still made time to attend the charities and parties and keep up with her contemporaries as was expected of a Baroness.
And what was more, Agathe made it all look effortless. She never appeared rushed or hassled. She took her time, especially with the children, and was rarely short with anyone. How she managed to be so efficient and so incredibly patient, Maria would never know.
Agathe always made a point of seeking Maria out when she arrived in the afternoons to collect the children. The children, happy to play in the garden, never protested at having to wait for two grownups to finish the boring job of simply talking. Agathe could never stay long, but they became firm friends.
For all her fortitude and all her generosity, Baroness von Trapp had an impish sense of humour. Maria could make her laugh just by her hopeless tendency of saying whatever was on her mind. They could tease each other like children, laugh until even the good nuns were scandalized. What behaviour for a schoolmarm and aristocratic mother of seven! They were both dreamers at heart, loved whimsical books and music in all forms, even though Maria had never had any formal training and Agathe had studied music her entire life.
Over those stolen moments, Agathe and Maria discovered what they had known all along. As different as they were, they were alike in what mattered. For Maria, who'd spent most of her time with nuns, who'd grown up alone, Agathe was both a spark, and a warm glow.
They finally found a day that worked around Maria's teaching and Agathe's busy schedule. Their mountain adventure might have been long in the making, Maria thought as she waited for Agathe at the Salzburg station, but it was worth waiting for. They couldn't have picked a more beautiful, fragrant, warm day. In town, they had passed peak flowering season, but the mountains would be in full bloom, the brooks still rushing with fresh meltwater. The station was busy, bustling with families on day trips and people enjoying a weekend. But Maria knew that up in the mountains, it would feel like they were the only ones.
"Fraulein! Fraulein!"
"Fraulein Maria!"
"Mama, mama, look! She's right over there!"
Maria looked up to see a horse-drawn carriage pulling up to the station, the von Trapp children waving excitedly from their seats. She saw Agathe reach over to pull Louisa away from the edge as the driver reined in the horses, before waving to Maria. "A grand entrance for a grand adventure," she called down.
Maria smiled, making her way to the curb to help the children down from the carriage. "Good morning Kurt. Liesl. Friedrich. Look at those ginormous baskets!" Maria greeted each child as she lifted them down to the ground, along with two sizeable wicker baskets.
"Look, Fraulein Maria, Frau Schmidt packed us a picnic!" Kurt announced happily, straining to lift the handle of a basket nearly half his size.
"With a great big plummy cake!" Louisa added as she took Maria's hand, catapulting herself from the carriage and landing agilely on her feet. "I helped cook make it yesterday."
"Helped by accidentally dousing the kitchen floor in flour," Agathe whispered as she handed the baby down into Maria's arms. "Cook was not impressed."
Maria stifled a giggle. Louisa's tendency to make a mess of things was very much like Maria had been at that age.
Agathe stepped out of the carriage with little Marta. She had dressed down for their outing, wearing a plain floral smock and a large sunhat. Around her shoulder she wore a wide piece of cloth. As she took Gretl back from Maria, she settled the baby into the cloth, fashioning a sort of makeshift sling so Gretl could nestle comfortably against her chest. "I didn't want to bring the pram into the mountains," she explained when she saw Maria turning to look as she helped Brigitta out of the carriage.
Maria had seen baby slings before. It was a clever way for mothers to carry babies while keeping their hands free for housework. But she imagined Agathe was probably the only baroness who would deign to wear one.
"How are we getting up the mountain, Fraulein Maria?" Brigitta asked as she let Maria set her down.
"By train, Brigitta. It's a very old train that puffs out steam and struggles a bit on the steep parts." She took the young girl firmly by the hand and picked up one of the baskets.
Louisa and Friedrich each managed a handle of the other basket, while Liesl held on to Kurt and Marta. Maria found herself filled with an emotion that was somewhere between pride and a warm ache. How sweet and responsible the children were! It wasn't the first time Maria had been impressed by the von Trapp children. Despite their antics and the occasional squabbles at the schoolhouse, they always looked out for each other. They adored their mother, proudly showering her with tokens from Maria's school garden and helping any way they could. If Maria could picture her ideal family, it would be Agathe's.
And to think she had once been horrified by the idea of seven children.
As Maria led the way through the station, she heard Friedrich explaining to Louisa how steam engines worked. Not yet nine, he had an insatiable curiosity and desire to know. Once Maria realized Friedrich would rather be learning about cars and ships than painting roses, she got her hands on a ton of old manuals and model kits that kept him busy for hours.
He was a natural teacher, keeping things simple enough for his younger sister. Louisa, Maria saw, was less enthusiastic about steam engines (she, Maria had found, learned best through moving and exploring) but she nodded along and tried not to interrupt.
Maria smiled. "I think even I'm learning something about combustion," she murmured to Agathe.
"That's the beauty of children, they're always teaching you something." Agathe laughed. "It keeps us humble."
When they made it onto the open platform, the children exclaimed to see the train already waiting, its shiny black engine puffing great clouds of steam high into the sky. It was a train meant for tourists, with one large compartment and great big open windows offering glorious mountain views. Maria wondered briefly if one of the children might not just accidentally fall through, before figuring the train moved so slowly nobody was at risk of injury, only great inconvenience and a big scare.
Nonetheless, she felt compelled to gather all the children around her and gave them a brief safety talking-to, while Agathe excused herself to nurse the baby.
"Don't worry, Fraulein Maria," Liesl assured her. "We'll make sure to watch the little ones."
"Thank you, Liesl," Maria said, smiling at Agathe's oldest daughter. She had her mother's easygoing nature, with a steadfastness Maria had never seen in a child so young, which she assumed Liesl must have inherited from her father.
Friedrich nodded. Louisa looked over at Kurt and Brigitta and repeated Maria's warning sternly. "Make sure to stay seated, okay?"
Maria hid a smile. Louisa took her role as big sister very seriously, although Maria thought privately that of all the children, she was the one least capable of sitting still. "Now children," she told them as Agathe rejoined them, "wait here just one moment while I buy the tickets."
The children nodded, turning back to admire the train.
"Maria," Agathe reproved, "you are not going to pay for coming on a trip with my family. You wait here one minute while I get the tickets."
"Agathe – " Maria started to protest. She had been the one to invite the von Trapps out for the day. Although her salary was meager, she did not spend very much. There was no question whether she could afford it.
"Maria, not a chance." Agathe said firmly, a stubborn look Maria knew so well from her own expression. "This is my treat."
Resigned, Maria nodded. Why was she arguing the point of money with a Baroness?
Seeing her expression, Agathe leaned in. "Let me," Agathe said quietly. "You can, but you don't have to."
"I know," Maria said. For she did know. Agathe never hid her status, spoke of it candidly and openly to Maria. In getting to know Agathe, Maria learned that wealth could buy some things, but it also had a cost, came with expectations Maria felt might just bury her alive. She never made Maria feel inferior – Maria would one day learn this was one of Agathe's many charms, for not all aristocracy were like that – and always took the time to understand Maria's life. Maria couldn't fully explain why she'd felt confused at the situation.
Maria nodded again. "Thank you," she said at last, still trying to find words to articulate why she'd felt reluctant. "I don't suppose I'm used to..." She hesitated. She didn't want Agathe to think nobody had ever shown her generosity.
Agathe smiled. "Maria, you are one of my own now, and I'm afraid there isn't very much you can do about it."
She left Maria looking after her in shock as she made her way to the ticket booth. How could Agathe had known, even when Maria Rainer herself did not?
After so many years of looking after herself, of being on her own, it took her by surprise to be included.
The children were wild with excitement as they boarded the train, crowding around the windows and shouting and waving to the stationmaster and everyone else they passed as the train pulled out of the station. They left Salzburg behind them, the train snaking up the mountain with a great amount of noise and puffing. The children settled, watching in awe as snow-capped peaks rose before them one after another, but Agathe and Maria had to constantly pull them back from leaning too far out the windows.
"And to think all this time I've been missing this view," Agathe said, as they turned a corner to see Salzburg spread beneath them, the Salzach winding through the valley like a thread of silk pulled by an artist's needle.
At this moment, Kurt reached out to catch a puff of smoke that drifted by the window, and Maria hauled him back by his suspenders. "Isn't it just lovely?" They passed a grove of birch, so alive they could hear the shrill of birdsong even over the train's rumbling engine. "You never feel lonely in the mountains."
"Or angry," Agathe laughed, trying to give Kurt a reprimanding look. "Oh Maria, I wouldn't be brave enough to do this by myself."
Maria pictured trying to keep track of six excited children roaming about the mountains. Trying to chase them down while carrying a baby. Suppose one of them got lost? She shuddered. "I can't imagine many would be," she said frankly.
Agathe made a face.
"Perhaps when they're older," Maria suggested, trying to look solemn.
"Teenagers," Agathe said gloomily. "They'll hardly be interested in spending time with their old mother."
Maria only laughed, looking over at the von Trapp children. How lucky they were to have Agathe for their mother! The kind of mother who encouraged them to take risks, who caught and comforted them when they fell, who was right alongside in their adventures. The children, as independent as they were, clung to Agathe like burrs, and Maria had a feeling they would always be close.
Still, Maria had to admit she was relieved the children didn't bolt in six directions as they disembarked. The mountains were expansive, with groves of trees, rocky outcroppings, meadows with grass tall enough to easily hide Marta, and brooks criss-crossing the landscape in unsuspecting places. Maria loved the mountains, but it was still a wild place.
It was a short hike to reach the grassy slopes that would be perfect for picnicking with the children. Maria led them along the hillside, following the banks of a shallow river, the excited children stopping to skip rocks in the water. She let them run freely through the meadows, the girls unable to resist picking bunches of wildflowers along the way. It was only until the very last uphill stretch that the little ones began to tire. Kurt grumbled that he was hungry, and Maria gave in to Marta's entreating arms and picked her up, relinquishing her picnic basket to Liesl.
To take the children's minds of the walk, she entertained them with a song.
Climb every mountain, ford every stream
– this as she reined in Louisa, who was trying to jump between the stones along the river –
follow every rainbow, 'till you find your dream
A dream that will need, all the love you can give
Every day of your life, for as long as you live
The group crested the top of the hill, and the children exclaimed in excitement, all tiredness forgotten. Fresh grass stretched before them against the peaks of the towering alps.
Liesl and Friedrich turned to Maria at the same time, giving her an inquiring look. She understood immediately. She nodded, and all five children were off, dropping their baskets and racing happily across the grass.
Maria set Marta down, and the youngster toddled gleefully after her siblings. She turned to wait for Agathe, who was slowly picking her way up the hill.
"Your voice," Agathe said, a little winded as she made it to the top. She had to shake her head as Maria grinned at her, as though her singing wasn't the most enchanting thing Agathe had ever heard. "Where did you learn to sing like that?"
Agathe herself only sang a little, but she played several instruments and had no shortage in musical instruction from Europe's most eminent teachers. She couldn't have picked from a list of descriptors she wanted to use – crystal clear, rich undertones, impossibly steady even as she climbed the veritable mountain – Agathe could only think that Maria's singing made her feel like a little girl again, enthralled, and eager for more.
Maria laughed. "The church, I guess."
"The church?" Agathe repeated, bewildered.
"There was a church just around the corner from where we lived in Vienna." They walked in the direction of the children, Maria slowing her steps to match Agathe's. "There was a tree near the courtyard, and I would climb it all the time to hear the nuns singing on their way to vespers. On Sundays I'd listen to the hymns."
Agathe was silent. She'd lived such a lifestyle she couldn't help but wonder how all Maria's raw talent would have developed if only she'd had someone to teach her.
"I've always been drawn to music," Maria continued dreamily. "My parents were music lovers. They taught me that music can be found everywhere. That music can solve anything, really. Now that they're gone, I love it for them."
And then again, there was so much in life that could not be taught.
"How old were you when they died?" Agathe asked softly. No euphemisms for Agathe, no passing, or lost, and for that Maria was grateful.
"I was five." Maria looked down. "It's been almost 15 years. But there are still so many things that remind me of them. Like biting into a delicious strudel. Or slipping on a pair of warm woolen mittens." Such small memories, the only ones she had. She felt the items in her picnic baskets slide and realized she had swung them a little too hard. She set the baskets down, peering inside to inspect the food, making sure the all-important cake had not been disturbed, keeping her hands busy.
Agathe waited in silent sympathy. As Maria started walking again, Agathe said, "my father died when I was just a little older than Kurt. There is still so much I want to share with him." Her smile was wistful. "So much I do share with him."
At her side, Maria nodded.
It had been a great fear of Captain von Trapp's, Maria knew. The anguish he would cause his family if something were to happen to him during the war. It was something both Maria and Agathe had learned early on – the depth of love, and how to carry those they love with them despite the grief that followed.
Agathe met her eyes with her bright grey ones, full of feeling. "I'm so glad you and I were able to have this day. Thank you for coming."
Maria smiled. She didn't have children, didn't have much family in any sense, but she understood Agathe perfectly, knew precisely why these days were important.
She wondered suddenly what Agathe's friends might think of her, roaming about the mountains, her children running like wild things around them – and understood suddenly that while she felt grateful Agathe counted her as one of her own, Agathe felt the same.
"I haven't had so much fun in ages," Maria said out loud, as though in defiance to everybody. "The nuns are lovely, but they are always so calm and collected. I'm sure they think I'm a clown."
Agathe laughed. "Nuns are wonderful, aren't they? Being married to God, I'm not sure they always understand us common folk. You're not a clown, Maria. You're young, and passionate. Even when you're not on an adventure, every day seems to be one."
Maria laughed with her. Then sighed. Then laughed again. "I made up a good many adventures as a girl." She had explored everywhere she could, and her imagination took her everywhere she couldn't. "It was a way to pass the time, to cope when things weren't going as well." Later, her creativity had made her popular with the younger girls at the home, her too-large ideas amusing her roommates in college.
They'd come to a lovely spot high on the grassy hills, with a beautiful view of the mountains before them and the valleys below.
Maria set the baskets down. Friedrich came up to them, looking for the ball he'd packed. Agathe smiled at him, tousling his straw-blond hair as he dug through the basket. He straightened, ball in one hand and picnic blanket in the other. He passed the blanket to Maria, who spread it onto the grass. The late spring fields were so thick and luxurious she felt as though she was sitting on carpet. They watched as Friedrich rejoined his siblings.
"Were things often hard for you as a child?" Agathe asked softly as Maria helped her unwrap Gretl from her sling.
It felt very quiet. Despite the chattering of birdsong and the rustle of nature all around them and the children shouting over it all, there was a stillness up here that Maria had always loved, as though she was part of the steadfastness and the very roots that made up the mountains themselves.
It didn't feel awkward that she took such a long moment to think. "No… and yes." She wanted to be honest with Agathe.
Agathe placed Gretl between them, who gleefully kicked her tiny feet. She rolled her shoulders to work out the strain, and waited patiently.
"My uncle took me in after mama and papa died," Maria started, picking her way through a story she rarely had to put into words. "He worked long hours at the factory and spent his nights at the tavern. He'd been a bachelor his entire life, you see, and never had much to do with children."
Agathe shuddered. "Oh Maria, that sounds horrid."
"It could have been a lonely childhood," Maria said slowly. Sympathetically, Agathe reached over to grasp her hand. "There were many things I couldn't control, many things I couldn't understand." Maria swallowed. "Many things I had to figure out on my own."
She felt comfortable now, telling all this to Agathe, where a few weeks ago she might have felt self-conscious. Agathe had never judged her, never pitied her. Agathe saw and accepted Maria for who she was.
"Books, songs, roads that led out to the country where I could dream and pretend. That was what kept me going." Maria slid her hand from Agathe's to make little braids in the grass, to keep them from shaking. "After we moved to Salzburg, I found the mountains. They were a friend when I needed one – a shoulder to cry on, an ear for whispering secrets, someone to sing and dance with." Maria had to laugh a little. "The number of times I've twirled across these very slopes."
Agathe was silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Maria." She traced the peaks of the mountains with her gaze. "I never knew. It doesn't seem fair, that you should have had such a miserable childhood."
Maria took a deep breath. She tried not to dwell on it, because it would have been so easy to see only the darkness. It had been a miserable childhood, in many ways. And yet it had shaped Maria Rainer into who she was – a young woman who would look a challenge in the eye, who knew not to fret the things out of her control, who saw beauty in nature, kindness in people.
Had Maria been a conventional, well-to-do city girl, would she have become friends with a Baroness? No, she would not have. She would have demurred and been too distracted by etiquette to speak her mind, too intimated by what the Baroness had and what she did not.
The thought made her smile.
"What is it?" Agathe wanted to know. Maria told her what she'd been thinking.
Agathe laughed, too. "Maria, you are incorrigible. I doubt I'll live to see the day when you admit that something is truly terrible."
Maria grinned. "The nuns call that frivolous."
Agathe chuckled and turned her face to the sunlight. The nuns had called Maria many things, she had come to learn, refrains Maria must have heard innumerable times for her to parrot them back every so often. Well-intentioned pedagogy, no doubt, advice the nuns deemed would help a wayward orphan survive in the world. And yet it was Maria's very nature Agathe loved – her tenacity, her boldness, her obstinate optimism, as though in defiance to a world that had worked against her. Agathe inhaled, closing her eyes, feeling the wind against her face and the sunlight on her skin. "Some might call it hope," she said softly.
Maria truly had that effect. Like the very mountains, she was a breath of fresh air and the warmth of sunshine. It'd been a very long time since Agathe had had an uninterrupted conversation with someone. Even longer since she'd had a heart to heart.
Maria studied her friend as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Agathe looked relaxed, content. There was something girlish in her posture as she leaned back on her wrists and soaked in the sun. Without her usual makeup and jewelry, she seemed vulnerable, almost fragile. Maria wondered suddenly if she was working too hard. People like Agathe were expected to breeze through life, and make it look glamorous, besides.
She resolved then and there to make more days like this one.
Feeling Maria's eyes on her, Agathe turned to look at her. "We made the right decision to move here," she declared. "Look at how happy they are."
Maria followed Agathe's gaze to the children.
Friedrich, Kurt, and Brigitta were playing catch. As they watched, Brigitta threw the ball just out of Friedrich's reach. He dove for it, shouting as he managed to snag it right before it hit the ground. There was a grass stain on his shorts when he got up. Kurt gave a whoop, and Brigitta clapped.
Louisa was skipping with a rope, counting out loud how many times she could skip before the rope became tangled. Maria's eyes scanned the field and found Liesl, picking flowers with Marta in tow.
Agathe had told her the von Trapps once lived in Pula, where the Captain had been stationed, and moved to a neighbourhood in Vienna after he retired – not far from where Maria had met them in her childhood. She didn't know much about Pula, but having lived half her life in Vienna, it was easy to see why the children loved Salzburg. Even without the mountains, the gardens and the lovely platz with their beautiful fountains felt more welcoming than Vienna's imposing buildings and busy streets.
"It was providential," Maria agreed impishly. "Otherwise we wouldn't have met again."
Agatha laughed, then sighed. "It was actually on the doctor's advice that we moved. I was ill for so long after Marta was born. When we found out I was carrying Gretl, the doctor advised fresh mountain air might do me some good this time around."
Maria could only imagine the toll it took carrying and delivering seven children.
"I was loathe to move again so soon after we'd settled in Vienna, but Georg would treat the doctor's advice as gospel. He worries too much." Agathe said this with an affectionate roll of her eyes, like she'd said it to her husband a hundred times. "And he adores it here, where he can ride his horses and enjoy a stroll without being honked at."
"It doesn't seem like the Captain is often home." Maria had heard enough about Captain von Trapp now to understand the invaluable role he'd served in the war, defending the Empire's vast seas with its new fleet of submarines. Maria had never seen a submarine, but even the thought of being trapped in a metal cannister underwater send her heart beating wildly. He had even received the Maria Teresa cross for his valiance. Maria remembered the Captain, imperious in uniform, a man born to command. She imagined even if he wasn't off performing heroic deeds, Agathe would be sharing him with the world.
"Georg comes home as often as he can," Agathe said. "Since his retirement, he's offered to give up his propositions." Her expression was fond, and Maria wondered whether she imagined the note of wistfulness in her voice. "But how do you keep a seafaring man in one place?" She looked up at the sky, smiling slightly. "It would be like pinning down a cloud."
"Keeping a wave upon the sand," Maria suggested.
"Capturing a moonbeam in your hand?"
They were laughing. Maria couldn't imagine the Captain so ethereal as moonlight or as fickle as the ocean – she hardly knew him at all, all things considered – but she wasn't above poking fun at him in his absence.
Agathe waved in the direction of the children. "I was resistant to moving. To uproot everyone, halfway through the school year. Liesl didn't want to leave her friends. Kurt adored his teacher. Friedrich was on the school's chess team." She sighed ruefully. "To hire new staff for the house, settle the children into a new routine, find all our favourite spots and bakeries and stores, all over again. Oh, it should be an adventure!" She shrugged helplessly and gave Maria a self-deprecating smile. "The life of a mother."
Maria reached over to squeeze Agathe's hand. She remembered a time when Agathe talked about dancing and drinking Prosecco and waltzing her way across Vienna.
Maria only had a few memories of her own mother. Every one of them was precious – visiting bakeries, playing hide and seek in gardens, sledding down slippery winter roads and long walks in the fall. She wondered now for the first time, what of herself her mother had had to exchange so Maria could have those memories.
And Maria's parents were regular townsfolk. Agathe had to be a mother, a Baroness, a heroic Captain's wife.
She had been thinking it before, and now she told her friend, "you've been working too hard."
Laughing, Agathe shook her head. "I was unnecessarily petulant about it," she admitted. "Georg had to woo me with carriage rides in the country, moonlit evenings by the lake. Sunset dinners from our balcony. I finally had to give in and admit I did love it here." Agathe threw out her hands, startling baby Gretl, who gurgled and tried to reach for them. "He should have taken me up the mountains."
Maria smiled. "Would that have convinced you sooner?"
"Much sooner."
Agathe dabbed at Gretl's waving fists with her own. "The only thing I'm having trouble with now is securing a governess for the children," she continued in a sing-song voice. Gretl cooed back, delighted.
Maria's eyebrows rose in surprise. She knew about governesses. Young ladies from well-to-do families coveted such positions. The work was predictable, and they could continue to live in comfort until they married. With her background, Maria never dreamed of being hired as governess, but it was a common aspiration at teacher's college. Salzburg had many affluent areas, finding a governess should have been the least of Agathe's concerns. "Have you submitted advertisements with all the agencies?"
"No, not yet." Agathe leaned in, as though she was sharing a secret and had forgotten they were in the great outdoors. "I haven't made any advertisements. I've only approached the school board."
Maria had to laugh. "Agathe," she said in fond exasperation. She had to have known better. "The school only retains resumes of their employees… who are already teachers."
"I suppose you're right." Agathe made a face. "I must tell you a secret, Maria. I've never hired a governess."
Maria stared. "You mean, you've never had a governess before?"
"I have had a governess. Several, as a girl. One for every subject and more for good measure." Agathe ran her fingers through Gretl's fine hair in an absentminded sort of way. "You see, I was never close with my mother. After my father died, she sent me to live with my grandfather in Italy, until I came of age. In some ways, I think she was trying to protect me, shelter me the only way she knew how. I didn't want the children growing up like that."
In one sense, Agathe had opportunities Maria could only dream of. Maria, who'd had to fight for every chance that came her way, couldn't quite understand how Agathe could resent that. But she did understand Agathe's desire to be a mother, to be there for her children, to be a family. It was something Maria had always wanted, too.
"But now that there are seven…" Agathe chuckled. "Georg insisted. And I suppose he's right. But I'm afraid I don't know anything about hiring a governess."
Maria tried to keep a straight face. She had lots of advice. "Well, the best way to start is – "
"Mama! Mama!" Liesl was running toward them, Marta at her heels. "Look what we found!"
Gretl twisted, searching for the sound of her sister's voice, and Maria picked her up so she could see.
Liesl stopped in front of them and held out a great bunch of star-like white blossoms. Marta wore a wreath of them in her hair.
"How beautiful!" Agathe pressed her face close and inhaled the scent, drawing her daughter in for a hug. "Do you know what these are, Liesl?"
"Edelweiss, isn't it?"
"That's right." Agathe's eyes sparkled.
"That's father's favourite flower," Brigitta said, coming over to join them. The other children dropped what they were doing and gathered around.
"Edelweiss only grows in the mountains," Friedrich informed them all. "In the cooler air."
"Do you think we could bring some home for father?" Louisa wondered.
"I think we certainly could," their mother responded. "He would love them in the sitting room."
"And the music room!" Kurt added.
Maria looked at Agathe, smiling and gay. She wondered whether the Captain really would be home in time to appreciate the fragrant flowers. But perhaps that wasn't really the point. Agathe kept him close, wove his presence into their every day.
"We'll collect it in the picnic baskets," Liesl decided. "We'll have lots!"
Kurt glanced at them wistfully. "I'm hungry."
Maria ruffled his hair. "How providential, I think it's about lunch-time."
"Go on." Agathe laughed, giving her kids a nudge. "Help Fraulein Maria lay out the picnic. Mind you take out the pudding right side up." The children raced to do as they were told. She wagged a finger at them. "Do not sample all the frosting off the cake, do you hear me?"
Maria had never had a picnic lunch like the one she enjoyed with the von Trapp family that afternoon. They had a feast, with fresh crusty bread, thin slices of meats and sweet juicy fruit, jams and spreads in little glass containers. The children dug gleefully into the food, laughing and shouting over each other. Nobody bothered to use plates or utensils. Across the blanket, Agathe gave her a look that was something between an eye roll and a grin.
Had she ever had a day quite like this one? Maria marveled as Liesl passed her a slice of cake. Cook's infamous buttery cake fairly melted on her tongue. Maria savored it, carefree, warm in the sun. Happy. It was one of those days she would store aside, to be taken out and revisited during the darker moments.
Afterward, she helped the children pack up as Agathe nursed the baby, taking care to leave as much space as she could for their precious edelweiss. As the children relaxed around her, blissfully sated from a day of physical activity, Maria had a sudden idea.
"Children, why don't we sing a song? Being up in the mountains always makes me want to sing."
Maria had long wanted to get the von Trapp children singing. She knew Agathe's love of music and guessed her children would be drawn to it. But heaven forbid she suggest the idea of making so much noise in their little schoolhouse in the afternoons.
As she predicted, her suggestion was met with a chorus of enthusiasm. "But what are we going to sing?" asked Brigitta.
"Well, what songs do you know?"
"We know a good deal many," Louisa said eagerly.
Maria thought for a moment. She settled on a song she frequently sang with her primaries, one that even little Marta might be able to follow along.
"How about this one?" Maria hummed a few bars. "Doe, a deer, a female deer, ray, a golden drop of – "
"Do-re-mi! We already know that one," Friedrich interrupted, excitement getting the better of him. "Mama taught us that one ages ago."
Liesl nodded eagerly. "Can you teach us something new, Fraulein Maria? Please?"
"What about that song you were singing on our way up?" Louisa pantomimed with her hands. "Climb every mountain."
"Following rainbows!" Brigitta added. "Yes, that one!"
Maria's brows furrowed. It wasn't a song she would have chosen for children, but all six pairs of eyes were trained on her in rapt attention, and she gave in.
"I remember the first bit," Kurt offered. "Climb every mountain, follow every stream…"
Maria laughed. "Ford every stream. Follow every rainbow, 'till you find your dream…" She tapped Brigitta on the nose.
The children repeated the two lines together, their chorus surprisingly lovely, even if a bit off key. Louisa shook her head. "That bit is too low for me."
"Me too," said Kurt.
Maria smiled. "That's alright children. Let's make it a little bit higher, like this…" She repeated the verse in a range more suitable for the children's naturally higher voices.
The children latched on, and Maria taught them the next verse as well. When she reached the chorus, she had to lower the key, as the upper register was too high for them. By the time Agathe had settled Gretl, they were belting out "till you find your dream" at the top of their lungs.
"You transposed the first verse up a fourth, and that end bit down a fifth," she said quietly.
"The children thought it was too low, then too high." Maria laughed.
Agathe looked at her. "That is perfect pitch, Maria. It's quite incredible. Has anyone told you?"
Maria shook her head. "I learned to read a little bit of music from a teacher we had at the home, that was all. I would dearly love to learn, someday."
"Ear training is something even seasoned musicians need to practice," Agathe explained. "It's a skill that takes years to develop."
"I sing probably more than I should," Maria admitted. "At least according to Sister Sophia. Things in life don't seem so bad when you can sing your way through them."
"Music adds to the happier moments, too," Agathe added gently. Had Maria known happiness? One she didn't have to create herself through sheer will? She looked between the children, who were now making up their own melodies with Maria's lyrics.
"Maria," she said suddenly. "I can teach you." When Maria simply blinked, she continued. "To read music. To play an instrument."
"Oh!" Maria stared at her blanky. She had an endearingly transparent face, and Agathe watched her expression transform from shock to eagerness to alarm. "I couldn't."
"Whyever not?"
"Agathe, I can't take up more of your time."
"I don't think you will," Agathe argued. "I've studied music since I was a girl, and I have yet to meet anyone like you. Music is a part of who you are. I think I would enjoy it."
"You're busy enough," Maria insisted. "The children…"
Agathe drew a sudden breath. What if…
Georg frequently teased her for her impulsive ideas. Agathe could be impulsive, she knew, but she also knew this made the most sense in the world. "Maria, come and stay with us."
Maria's mouth made a perfect 'o'. She rocked back on her wrists, as though the suggestion had bowled her right over.
"You could help with the children," Agathe continued, "you know the children. They adore you. We all do." When Maria still seemed unable to speak for or against her suggestion, Agathe tied it all triumphantly together. "We would have lots of time at night for music. We have a beautiful Bosendorfer grand piano. Mother recently bequeathed us a Stradivarius violin."
"Agathe," Maria started weakly. The look on her face was almost entreating. "I… don't know what to say."
"Say yes," Agathe suggested.
"You just said you don't want a governess – "
"You wouldn't be a governess, Maria. You are a friend. I know even Georg would approve." Georg would be thrilled she had someone helping to care for the children, there was no question. "It's a good idea. It'd be inconvenient for you to get to school, of course. But Franz could drive you into town every day with the children."
"Agathe."
"Maria," she mimicked.
"I can't impose."
"Don't be a goose. You won't be imposing. You know I can use you."
Maria opened her mouth, then closed it again. She wanted to say yes. Wanted to share Agathe's excitement. Wanted to help with the children. Hadn't she, the entire day long, been happily borrowing all the joy and the racket and the togetherness of Agathe's family? It didn't feel quite real that in some way, it might become hers, too.
Her rental flat was small, but it had everything she needed. She had a job she enjoyed, had the company of nuns she knew truly cared for her, however they went about expressing it. Maria never wished for more. Never dared to.
"We have lovely grounds. A large space. You'd like the villa, I think."
It was not a question whether she would like it. Maria had never been to the von Trapp villa, but she had always loved the region where they lived. A beautiful piece of countryside with fields and lakes, storybook walled estates and romantic tree-lined lanes. And now she was being asked to be a part of it all.
"Agathe, I've never thought – "
"Do you always do exactly what you think?" Agathe's expression was knowing, her smile that of a conspirator. "The girl who against my sage advice crashed a grand party to track down a fearsome Captain?"
Maria couldn't help but smile back.
Oh, what was the matter with her?
Perhaps she was overly confident. Perhaps she was reckless. After all, Agathe was simply inviting her to stay. It wasn't like she'd received a proposal of marriage.
But as she sat there on the blanket in the lush grass, surrounded by majestic snow-capped peaks, the sun at its warmest, Maria couldn't help but think that everything was about to change.
Months later, she would think back to this moment, again and again. She would remember the commitment she did make, the unspoken promise they exchanged.
"Alright Agathe. Just let me discuss it with Sister Augusta." While she didn't live with the nuns, they had looked after her as if she were one of their own.
As it turned out, the nuns were all too happy for her to move in with the Baroness. Although Maria was never to know whether it was because she was moving to an vast estate in the countryside, far better suited to her physical and mental well-being, or that she would be taking the von Trapp children with her.
A/N: Thank you for reading, if you've made it this far. :)
One (of many) reasons this story was a challenge is having to develop Agathe - a memory on a pedestal - into a fully fledged character. I've always felt Maria and Agathe together would have been dynamic combo and it's been exciting getting the chance to bring that to life.