The SOM fanfiction
Here is the next chapter of the "Sound of Music" fan fic I'm just writing. It's not beta-ed yet, but I hope you'll like it nevertheless.
Amor vincit omnia
Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Chapter 2: In the new world
New York, October 1938
Georg von Trapp suppressed a sigh and, bracing his aching back with one hand, forced a smile. “I want you to relax, gnädige Frau*. Simply try to feel the movement of your horse and how it takes you with it …”
How often he’d already told this story today? It was no use, especially not in the case of the blonde lady who hung on her horse like a sack of potatoes. She’d got neither the talent nor the love for it and only was there, taking lessons, because horseback riding the “European way” was fashionable, especially when done under the guidance of a true Austrian aristocrat.
Actually Georg had tried to tell his pupils that he wasn’t a Baron, but only Ritter von Trapp** and therefore certainly not high aristocracy. But now, after a few months of working as a riding-instructor, he’d given up. If they wanted an Aristocrat, he could easily play one for them, making them giggle by kissing heir hands and addressing them with “Gnädige Frau” at least twice during every lesson.
It certainly wasn’t the life Georg had dreamed of by coming to America, but it was a living, wasn’t it? And his job in the stable certainly was better as the one down at the docks he’d done during his first weeks in the new world.
The family’s rushed escape from Austria had made Georg unable to transfer as much money as he’d have wanted and actually needed. After crossing the border to Switzerland at foot he’d let his exhausted family back in a little two and had travelled to Zurich - only to learn that there wasn’t a chance to get his money out of Austria. There had been only a small amount he’d once transferred to Switzerland to keep him afloat during his skiing holidays there - just enough to pay the boarding house, third class train tickets to Genoa and for two modest cabins on a ship to America. The rest of his money was stuck in Austria - the Nazis had frozen his bank accounts and certainly wouldn’t give him a chance to get at it.
It had been Maria who’d kept the spirit up during this time. She’d taken the news about the money rather calmly, only saying: “Well, we’ll have to earn our living then” and announcing: “It will be a big adventure!”
Georg hadn’t been this optimistic. Just on the contrary, he’d been almost sick with worrying and during the nights on the ship, listening to the quiet breathing of his sons - with only two cabins he’d shared one with the boys while Maria had slept in the other with the girls - he’d more than once asked himself if he hadn’t done wrong with leading his family into this. Hadn’t he been egotistical in his decision to leave their homeland? If he would have joined the Third Reich’s navy, Maria and the children would have gotten the chance to remain in their home, living in comfort and - well, with them keeping their heads down and their mouths closed … “We could have made it through,” he’d said one evening as he’d stood with Maria at the deck, looking out at the dark sea.
She’d shaken her head. “No, Georg, I don’t believe so. You know what happened in Germany - it will happen in Austria too. And could you stand to have your sons in the Hitler Youth and your daughters wearing the ugly uniforms of the Nazis’ girl organization? Can you imagine our children singing their songs, marching to their tunes, calling out their shibboleths and learning to despise people only because they’re not Arian? And even more, Georg: You always say that Hitler will start a war soon - and what would happen to you then, being an officer in his navy? How great, do you think, would your chances of surviving be?”
“Not too big, I suppose,” Georg had answered. “But it’s not me we’re talking about, but you and the children.”
“And what would we do without you, Georg? The children need you and so do I. We belong together and whatever comes we’ll make it through - together. As long as we’re together, I don’t fear anything.”
They’d walked back to their cabins then and in front of the girls’ room Georg had taken his wife in his arms. “I love you, Maria. I wouldn’t know how to go through this without you.”
“You’d manage!” Maria had rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “You don’t know how much I’d like to have you close tonight,” she’d whispered in his ear.
“I think I do know,” he’d replied, pressing her for a moment against him. “I miss you, Maria, but - don’t let us go there.” He’d let her go, kissed her forehead and almost fled in to the other cabin.
At this time he’d thought and hoped that their nightly separation would end as soon as they were settled in USA. But now, after almost half a year, he was still sleeping alone - or better said, in the company of his sons. With the little money left to them they could only afford a very small flat in a rather shabby building. A little kitchen, a small bathroom, a living room and two little bedrooms - more wasn’t there. So the one room which was supposed to be the master bedroom had become Louisa’s, Brigitta’s, Marta’s and Gretl’s room while the smaller one, just big enough for a bunk bed and a small single one was where Georg and the boy slept while Maria and Liesl shared a sofa in the living room.
As much as Georg loved his children and wanted to be close to them - this kind of closeness wasn’t sitting too well with him. He’d been used on a big house, of having a lot of space and of spending time on his own in the sanctuary of his study. And with having servants around all the time of his life, he was also used on orderliness. Now he’d always put away something - a toy, books, school things, clothes - before he could sit down on a chair; shaved in the kitchen because the bathroom was always occupied by children already too late for school and couldn’t get a moment of his own, not to mention that he couldn’t get an undisturbed one with his wife. The private part of his marital life was made up from stolen kisses in the kitchen when the children were in bed - and even these kisses had become rare because at night Maria was always so exhausted she almost fell asleep during dinner. Running a household with nine people and working as a seamstress was too much even for her and despite of Georg and the children helping as much as possible.
Besides Georg didn’t feel too well himself. During the war he’d once injured his back and despite of the scar almost not visible anymore, he got to remember the old wound, especially after a day of hard work. The first weeks in America as he’d worked on the docks, carrying heavy loads, he’d sometimes almost broken down. He hadn’t wanted to show Maria how much the hardship of his job had lasted on him - she’d gotten enough things to worry about. Yet his sons had noticed how he’d tossed in is bed and moaned in his sleep and Friedrich had told Maria.
It had led to their first big argument. She’d told him he couldn’t work at the docks any longer and he, actually knowing that she was right, but not seeing another way to provide for his family, had yelled at her: “What do you expect me to do? Sitting around here, watching how you work your fingers to the bones? What kind of a man do you think I am?”
Maria’s temper had gotten the better of her - she’d raised her voice too: “What kind of a man I think you are? An exceptionally pig-headed one! What do you want to prove with your stubbornness?”
From there on it had been a short road for him to tell her that she didn’t understand him (even by saying so he’d already thought: “Ugh, Georg - you couldn’t have found something sounding more clichéd and stupid”) and that he’d always disliked her way of talking back and provoking him. Maria had paid back with naming his pride “idiotic” and in asking him when he’d at last learn that the world wouldn’t revolve around him. Then she’d started to cry and fled in bed while he had felt like the worst rascal ever. He’d sworn to himself that he would make up with the next day, but then in the morning he’d once again stumbled about a pair of boats Kurt hadn’t put away. Edgy as he’d been after the row and a sleepless night he’d yelled at his son and Liesl who’d tried to interfere and to calm him. Maria, as always, had gone between, scolding him for letting his chagrin out on the children. “They’re not responsible for you feeling lousy, Georg!”
“Oh, I know - I’m the one responsible for the disaster we name our life now! And I even know that how much you all despise me for it!” he’d roared and stormed out of the flat.
Coming back in the evening he’d found the children very quiet and Maria still furious. She’d hardly spoken a word with him, but in this night he hadn’t felt like bothering about. Work had been exceptionally hard on this day and the pain in his back had become so bad he was hardly able to stand upright anymore. Therefore he’d directly gone to bed after dinner, hiding himself and his misery under his blanket.
For three days the atmosphere in the von Trapp household had been subdued and all too quiet. Then, at the third evening after the argument, Louisa had stormed in the flat, her eyes beaming with excitement: “Father, father, look who I’ve met!” Behind her Alois Hrdlitschka, once a professional equestrian at the Spain Riding School in Vienna where Georg had learned too, had appeared, grinning from one ear to the other.
“Trust your daughter to find horses even in New York!” he’d said and hugged Georg. “I almost fell from Pluto Deflorata*** as I suddenly saw her standing at the fence.”
“Pluto Deflorata? You have him here?” Georg hadn’t almost believed his ears.
“Yes - him and the good, old Conversano Theokratia. You remember him, do you? He was so great in getting you down every time you tried a levade with him! You should have seen it, Louisa. It was so funny! First Conversano Theokratia always digged his hoofs in the sand as if he wouldn’t have the slightest idea what Georg could wish from him. Then, when your father became more energetic with his aids, Conny made one jump upward. It always made Georg slip down from Conny’s back, falling on his butt and sitting in the sand, looking like a beetle on its back.”
Sitting on the sofa in the living room, Alois had told the family how he’d come to America with three stallions. He’d become hired by an American circus and being the son of a Jewish mother he’d seen this as his chance to come away from Europe and the Nazis. So he’d sold one of his stallions and used to money to rent a stable close to the Central Park. “Now I’ve got a dozen of horses on my own and around another dozen to care for - paid, of course, and handsomely, as I would like to add. The business is going well - horse back riding is very fashionable among the posh people in New York nowadays. And you know what, Georg? You’re just the man I need for making even more money. You know, I was always better in managing horses as in riding them. But you with your talent as a rider and instructor, your posh British accent and your looks - New York’s society ladies will trample all over me for getting lessons from you or having their horses ridden by you.” He’d rubbed his hands, his brown eyes beaming. “Georg, we can make a fortune when working together!”
Georg had been rather skeptical about working in the stables, but Maria had loved the idea. “It’s in every case better as your job in the docks. You’ll have horses around - and you love horses, don’t you?”
Louisa had seconded her: “You really a great in teaching people how to ride, father!”
“And it will be better for your back!” Friedrich had added.
So one week and another talk with Alois later Georg had quitted at the docks, bought a pair of used riding boats and breeches and had started at the stable. It was - in so far Maria had been right - a much better job as the one in the docks. Sometimes in the mornings, when he wasn’t teaching untalented society hyenae, but was working with the horses, Georg even enjoyed it very much, especially after Alois, generous friend as always, had given him Conversano Theokratia to work with. “We don’t want you to spoil your style by always doing young or horses in need of correction. Besides watching you with Conny will make our female customers even more swooning about you. They will want to learn riding as you do - and therefore they’ll buy more lessons and more horses. We’ll be able to start a breeding farm too and then we’ll come into the real money. Just you wait and see, Georg - you’ll live on your own land soon again!”
Actually Georg’s wishes didn’t go so far anymore. A house, big enough to get Maria and him a bedroom of their own, would already be enough. Only there were other things even more important like the children’s clothes, books and their education. Liesl was soon to become ready with High School and to go into a college. Friedrich who’d started piano lessons back in Austria and had become quite good, had found a piano to practice on in his school, but he actually needed one of his own and a better teacher. Kurt was growing so fast he needed new clothes almost every half year and Brigitta longed to start violoncello lessons for which she would need to have an instrument of her own.
Actually the only von Trapp child who didn’t long for something was Louisa. She was probably the one in the family who was happy about moving to New York. Back in Austria she’d always been scolded for being a tomboy and spending so much time in the stable, but now she wasn’t only allowed there as soon as she was out of school, but got even paid by Alois for helping the groom with cleaning boxes, feeding horses and preparing them for lessons or work. Besides she used every opportunity she got to get in the saddle herself. Alois supported her in that, telling Georg that Louisa on horseback was good for the business, too. “Or do you know a better way to show how decent a horse is as showing the customers your daughter riding it?” Of course, when it came to the dressage lessons it was still Georg, who presented the horses, but Louisa was becoming better every day and soon she would be able to do the entire show.
Georg was proud on his daughter and he enjoyed having her so close with him. However, even Louisa sharing so much time with him didn’t make up for the distance which had developed between him and Maria. Georg still loved her, but about her feelings he wasn’t sure anymore. She was a wonderful mother to his children and, despite of being so busy with the household and her work, she still managed to play and to sing with them, but Georg could hardly remember when she’d last spend time with him. Just the other day he tried to invite her to a little stroll in the evening, but Maria had declined, pointing to the rather ugly lilac dress she was just working at. “Mrs Summers - you know the lady from the baker’s shop? - needs this tomorrow.” Then she’d kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you play a bit with the children?” She was treading him like one of her charges and sometimes he wasn’t sure she still remembered that he actually was supposed to be more for her as a family member to feed and to look after.
The blonde was almost through with her lesson now and she looked it. Her hair was hanging in her sweaty face, her cheeks had become flushed under the heavy make-up and she was gasping for air like a goldfish out of its bowl. Georg decided to give her a moment to collect herself - the hope that she’d once collect her horse too, he’d lost long before. “Walk, please - and let him have the reins.” The brown gelding used that as a chance to throw his head up and Georg cursed inwardly. This horse certainly was too clever for a weak rider like his owner. Georg would need to ride him himself soon for getting him back in shape. Only he couldn’t do it directly after the lesson - Miss “Just call me Tipper” Burrows, the exceptionally beautiful and exceptionally spoiled only daughter of an exceptionally wealthy widower, his next customer, was already waiting in the stands and over the door of the hall he could see how Louisa was grooming the rather nervous thoroughbred mare, “Just call me Tipper” had bought only two weeks before because “she’s got such a cute face, hasn’t she?” Only the cuteness of the mare’s face didn’t - at least in Georg’s opinion - make up for her being extremely catty. The mare, though only five years old, had probably experienced something bad from humans; therefore she spent most of her time under the saddle with attempts to get rid off her rider.
“Let’s try canter, shall we?” Georg offered to the blonde. “Take up the reins again, sit firm, but relaxed - and now trot! Canter in the next corner - half halt, right leg back, lead him with the outer rein and get him in position with the inner one.”
It didn’t work - of course it didn’t with the blonde falling forward on her horse’s shoulder. “Well, we try again in the next corner - canter now!” Georg commanded. It once again didn’t work out. “Half halt and walk.” Georg stepped closer. “Your problem is that you’re always falling forward. Yet your horse can’t canter with your weight on its shoulders. Just sit back and keep your position. Shall we try it again?”
“Oh, Baron - why is it so difficult?” the blonde complained.
“It’s rather easy when you’ve got the trick once - and I’m sure you’ll learn it soon!” he comforted her. “Now trot again - and in the next corner the famous half halt, then your right leg goes back while you sit firmly on your backside.”
This time it worked at least in so far as that the brown gelding started to canter. Georg once again suppressed a sigh. “Wrong canter, gnädige Frau. We want him to strike off on off fore. Half halt, trot and a new start in the next corner, please!”
“I’m really exhausted now, Baron!” the blonde whined. “You’re rather hard on me, you know?”
Georg forced a smile. “Only for your good. I want you to learn as much as possible. Everything else would be a sad waste of talent.”
Question only was: Whose talent? The one of the gelding or the one of the instructor? The rider certainly didn’t have any.
“Door free?” Louisa was there, holding the black mare on her reins.
“Door is free,” Georg confirmed, smiling at his daughter. Turning his eyes back to his pupil, he said: “I’m sure you’ll manage one time more. We can’t send him back into his box like that, can we? So please, concentrate and try again.”
Probably the brown gelding had got now that his only way for getting finished was cantering on the right hand - despite of the odd movements his rider was making. He fell into a rather lazy canter and Georg decided that he would for once not notice how much the horse was sparing itself. He would get him back at shape tomorrow, that would be enough. “Half halt, walk and let him stretch,” he commanded. „Nicely done, gnädige Frau - and didn’t I say you can do it?“
The blonde made her horse walk in the middle of the hall where Georg was standing. Smiling at him, she said: “I’m really, really exhausted now, Baron. But it was a good lesson, wasn’t it?”
“It was fine.” Georg stroked the gelding’s neck. “If you want to, my daughter can take over for getting him dry and back in his box”, he offered.
“That would be nice!” She reached out for his shoulders, letting herself glide down from her horse into his arms, pressing herself against him and looking up at him with what she obviously believed a seducing glance. Georg forced another smile, maneuvered himself out of her reach and clapped the gelding’s sweaty neck again. “Could you just keep him for a moment so that I can take over my next horse?”
She’d obviously not given up on him yet. “Thank you for the lesson, Baron!” She batted her eye lids. “When will we see each other again?” She made the question sound as if they were to have a date and Georg cringed inwardly once more.
Heavens, he was wearing his wedding ring, he mostly had his daughter with him, he frequently mentioned his wife - what more would it need to make those women get that he wasn’t available? But being charming was part of his job, so he smiled, took the blonde’s hand and bent over it for the hint of a hand kiss. “I think our next lesson will be on Tuesday. I’m looking forward to it.”
“So do I, dear Baron, so do I!” She looked at him as if she’d like to eat him alive and Georg, feeling a cold shudder running down his back.
“I wish you a nice day!” He nodded and turned around to Louisa who was waiting just a few steps away, tenderly stroking the mare’s nose. “Louisa, please take over the gelding. Ten minutes walk, then he goes back in his box.”
Louisa nodded, but bit her bottom lip. As he came closer to her, she whispered: “Be careful, father. The mare is pretty fidgety today.”
“Thanks - and don’t worry!” He checked the girth of the saddle, took the reins up and mounted the mare. As always she immediately tried to run forward, but Georg stopped her - she needed to learn that she was only to move when he allowed it. Collecting the reins in his left hand where he already held his whip, he turned the mare so that she was standing in front of the stands, lifted his cap and smiled at the lady up there. “Hello, Miss Burrows. It’s nice to see you.”
“Oh, just call me Tipper, Baron! And I must say, you look rather dashing on my mare. Isn’t she a cutie?” Brunette Tipper Burrows crossed her long legs, showing Georg a generous amount of skin.
“Let’s see what the cutie is up to today,” Georg gave back, using his back to keep the “cutie” away from going against his legs. The mare tried to turn around to the left and to take her head up, ready to fight her rider. “Calm down, lassie!” Georg clapped her neck before he took the reins up again. After Louisa walking with her for ten minutes, the mare was already warmed-up and wanted to run. Georg started a trot, cursing inwardly because the mare was tense and her movement felt very uncomfortable. She wasn’t exactly what the doctor would have ordered for his back and he felt how the ache in it became worse.
Georg clenched his teeth, reminding himself that working at the docks had been worse and concentrated on his horse. Louisa had been right about her: The mare was extremely fidgety and absolutely not willing to let him calm her down. Instead she used every opportunity to speed up and to against his aides. Georg talked to her soothingly while trying to get her to a relaxed trot. Circle, volte, serpent lines, circle again, big serpent lines, volte to the left, volte to the right, shoulder-in - she was giving in now, already sweating with white foam flocking her neck and chest. Yet she was still tensed and Georg decided to give her a chance to let some steam off. Canter would probably get her to cooperate fully, so he put his leg back.
Just this moment “just call me Tipper” on the stands let her bag drop. With a heavy bang it landed on the wooden stairs, startling the mare. She exploded, jumping in the air with all four legs, bucking like a rodeo horse. Georg didn’t have the slightest chance - as she raised her butt in the air, kicking out with her hindlegs, he was catapulted out of the saddle, bumping with his ride side against the wall of the hall and falling down then.
For a moment he couldn’t breathe. The hard landing had knocked the wind out of him. Struggling for air he closed his eyes, turned on his back and concentrated on moving his toes and hands, noticing with relief that everything worked what meant his spine was still in one piece. Only he still didn’t get enough air and felt already a bit dizzy, so he gave himself a moment of simply lying there.
Suddenly Louisa was there. “Father?” Her voice was terrified. “Father, are you injured?”
Struggling for breath he sat up and opened his eyes to look at her pale face. “I’m ...” still gaping, he shook his head. “I’m fine,” he managed then. “Don’t worry.”
“Georg - are you okay?” Alois came close, holding the black mare.
And there was Tipper Burrows, wringing her hands. “Oh heavens, Baron - what have I done? Alois, shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Georg repeated and stood up, bracing himself against the wall.
“Shall I take over, Georg?” Alois asked.
“Certainly not!” Georg stretched, limped to him - his hip was now hurting even worse as his back - and took the reins of the mare. “But you can help me up.”
“Sure?” Alois still looked worried.
“Don’t you remember?” Georg tried to joke. “Having one’s head under one’s arm is the only excuse for not getting up again after a fall!” he reminded his friend of the favourite saying of their former instructor. “My head is still where it belongs. So I need to go back in the saddle.” He put his knee in the hand Alois offered him, let his friend jerk him up and collected the reins. “Okay, thanks, Alois!”
“Be careful, Georg, will you?” Alois took Tipper Burrows’ arm. “Let’s go out, shall we?”
“Are you sure the Baron is okay?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Georg who’d just started to trot the mare again.
“Georg’s though!” Alois assured her.
Georg actually didn’t feel though in the moment. His chest and hip hurt and he knew, he’d develop some nasty bruises. But bearing with such little incidents was part of his job, wasn’t it? He didn’t intend to whine about.
Nevertheless Georg wasn’t well as he came home two hours later. On their way back in the subway he’d asked Louisa to keep quiet about his fall. “You know, your mother is already rather afraid of horses and worrying a big deal. She doesn’t need to know about this little incident.”
Louisa hadn’t been happy about his request. “What am I to answer when she asks how our day went?”
“You can tell her it was nothing out of the usual.” Georg had tried a grin. “Falling down is quite normal for a rider, isn’t it? There’s certainly no need to make a big fuss about.”
Luckily neither Louisa nor Georg were asked about their day in the stable. Instead Brigitta was already waiting for her sister at the door, all excitement: “There you are at last! We thought already you would never come back! You must change immediately - we’re going to sing!”
Liesl joined Brigitta. “Isn’t it great? We’ll sing something really demanding - Handel’s Te Deum in D major. It’s a great piece and we’re to have a lot of fun with it.”
Georg wrinkled his forehead. “Could someone perhaps explain to me what you’re talking about?” He felt already slightly annoyed again - hadn’t he made it clear enough that he didn’t want his children to sing in public? The Salzburg folk festival had been the exception from the rule and having participated in it, certainly didn’t make for him allowing his family becoming a band a circus now.
Maria stood in the threshold of the kitchen. “I’ve allowed the children to sing in the St. Agnes choir,” she said. “I was talking to father O’Donnell this morning and he told me he’d like to do some baroque music, only he would need a few real good singers. And he’s got this wonderful old lady - Mrs Armstrong from around the corner - who was once a great opera singer. She’ll give the singers from the choir voice lessons for free. It’s such a great opportunity for the children, Georg. You know how much they like to sing - and it’s in a church, Georg!”
“I would have liked to become asked before,” he said stiffly.
“Georg,” she started again, but was interrupted by Kurt running out of the bathroom, loudly announcing: “I’m ready - can we go now?”
“Georg, your dinner is in the oven,” Maria announced, obviously trying to distract him.
“I’ll have a shower then,” Georg sighed, turning to the bathroom.
“Oh, father - I’m afraid there’s no warm water left,” Friedrich said regretfully. “You see, I’ve just come back from school and we had been playing baseball …”
“Oh thanks, Friedrich!” Georg’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “It’s always great to learn how much you care about me. I mean, it’s not like I would normally come home around this time, needing a shower.”
“I’m sorry, father. I didn’t think of it.” Friedrich bit his bottom lip and looked at Maria.
“Georg, why don’t you have your dinner first and shower then?” she suggested.
“Because I’ve still not given up on civilization entirely!” he said coldly. “I refuse to have dinner in my riding gear. But don’t worry about me - it’s said that cold showers are good for the cardiovascular system.” Georg stalked of the bathroom without looking back at his wife and the children who watched him with the now already familiar “Duck - he’s in one of his mood again!” looks. He knew himself that he’d just overreacted, but sometimes he felt as if the entire family would have ganged up against him.
Coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in a flannel dressing gown, Georg found the flat immensely quiet. His family was obviously gone and so he was surprised to see Maria sitting in the kitchen, for once not working, but with her hands in her lap.
“What you’re doing here? I thought you were to go to sing,” he said.
“I know the piece - I sung it once back in Salzburg,” Maria answered with a forced smile. “Besides I thought you’d perhaps like company for your dinner. I’ve made a soup, stew and I can get you same salad, if you want to.”
“What about Louisa? Did she eat something?” he asked, sitting down at the table where Maria had laid out a dish and cutlery for him.
“I got her a sandwich.” Maria was up on her feet again, putting a bowl with vegetable soup on the table.
“Good.” Georg nodded. He actually wasn’t hungry, but tired and sore. In the mirror of the bathroom he’d inspected his chest and hip and discovered that there were already hematomas developing.
Maria spooned soup in his dish and sat down again. “How was your day, Georg?”
“The usual,” he replied, stirring his soup. “And yours?”
“Rather nice,” Maria replied. “Father O’Donnell is delighted about the new drapes I made for his study. He’s got me another job. There’s a very nice young woman in his parish, a widow who’s to marry again soon. She’s got a bit of money and she wants a very special wedding gown which I’ll be sewing for her.”
“Well, we can do with the money”, Georg said, eating his soup. As always he felt awkward when thinking about his wife working for money. Only half one year before as he’d married her, he’d thought of spoiling her with everything money could buy. Now she was working through the nights for keeping the family afloat.
“There’s something even better, Georg!” Maria was beaming. “You remember the Millers? The nice, older couple we met at the church two weeks before? They live in a flat over the shop opposite of St. Agnes - and they’re probably going to move soon. Mr Miller is going to become retired and they want to live close to their only daughter who’s married in Florida. You know, father O’Donnell who knows the landlord of the Millers, says we could probably have the flat.”
Georg had got up, put his dish in the sink and was reaching for the pot with stew now. Turning around with it, he bumped against one of the chairs standing around - the kitchen really was too small and all too cramped - and winced because of his injured hip.
“Georg? Are you okay?” Maria asked worried.
“Apart from hating that the children never put their chairs back under the table - yes!” he answered sharper as he’d intended to. Sitting down again, he spooned some of the stew on his dish and looked skeptically at it. Of course, he appreciated that Maria did all the cooking, but even as in his most charming mood he wouldn’t have said that she was very talented in it. Trying to soften his tone, he asked: “Can we afford the flat?”
“It’s twenty dollars more of rent as this one,” Maria replied, biting her bottom lip.
“Twenty dollars? That’s a bit much.” He tried the first bite from the stew, chewing slowly on the rather though meat.
“I’ve done a calculation, Georg,” Maria looked at him with hope in her eyes. “We can manage, Georg. I’m sure I’ll can get some more good jobs and you’re doing so well in the stables - we certainly can manage. And it’s such a nice flat, Georg! It’s got four rooms and there are even two little chambers up at the attic. We could give them to Liesl and Louisa - they’d love to have rooms of their own! And then we could use the one bedroom for the little girls and the other, smaller one, for the boys and we’d still have a living room and,” she was slightly blushing and reaching for his hand, “a bedroom for us. Wouldn’t that be nice, Georg?”
“Considered how badly Kurt snores, I’d certainly enjoy it,” he answered, swallowing another bit of the stew and patting her hand. Pushing his dish aside, he looked up at here. “I’m afraid, I’m not very hungry today. Thank you nevertheless for the meal.”
“I know you don’t like stew much,” Maria said, taking the pot away und putting it in the sink. “But,” she smiled apologetically at him, “it’s not too expansive and doesn’t need much time to prepare.”
“Maria,” he sighed, “I admit I was rather spoiled back at home. But I survived around ten years with eating in the imperial navy where people maintained that the quality of a ship’s food is reciprocal to its strength in combat. If this would have been true, we would have been invincible.”
Maria smiled and cleared the table up, putting his second dish in the sink too. “Georg?” She turned and looked at him. “I believe it’s the first time we’re alone with all the children away since we’re here.”
“Yes - and isn’t it oddly quiet here without them?” He rose up, pouring himself a glass of water. Drinking it he put it in the sink too.
Maria only seemed to have waited for him having his hands free. Stepping closer, she hugged him, her lips gliding over his jaw.
He hadn’t been prepared for her sudden closeness, but his body reacted immediately on it, a rush of arousal making him almost dizzy. And now her hand was on the back of his neck and his mouth found hers, kissing her deeply and passionately. She pulled even closer, bumping against his chest. Georg winced again, breaking the kiss - heavens, that had hurt.
“What’s the matter, Georg?” Maria was still stroking the back of his neck, watching him anxiously.
“Nothing.” He inhaled deeply, took her hand away from his neck and kissed it while backing away from her. “I only don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“We’re alone, Georg. The children won’t be back for another hour,” Maria whispered, her soft voice luring him.
“Nevertheless it’s not a good idea,” he repeated firmly. “I absolutely refuse to become caught in flagrante delicto by my children. Besides,” he looked around in the small kitchen with the shabby furniture they’d bought second hand, “I certainly don’t intend to get you pregnant now. We’ve got already seven children to worry about; we really don’t need another one.”
Maria paled and looked at him with as if he’d just slapped her. “You said once you’d like to have more children!” she whispered.
“Here?” He shook his head. “Maria, are you insane? How could we have another child here, in an already overcrowded, messy flat with hardly enough money to provide for the needs of the children we already have? Maria, you really must have gotten out of your mind!” All the frustration of the last months was coming up now and he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “My dear wife, I think it’s time you face reality. We’re stuck in misery, struggling for the simplest needs of our daily life with you already having too much work …”
“We’re together, Georg,” she interrupted him. “And we’re free and safe.”
“Oh heavens, Maria - stop playing the saint!” Georg exploded. “You can’t tell me you like how we live here. So just finish pretending and treading me like a fool. The children aren’t there; you mustn’t do the usual motherly encouragement show. Be honest for once!”
“Honest?” Maria’s eyes were glittering and her voice was shaking with fury now. “You don’t wish me to be honest! It could lead to me telling you what I really dislike about our life here!”
“And that would be?” he bellowed.
“Why, captain? You want for once hear what I’ve got to tell you?” She gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles becoming white by it. “Well, here we go: I immensely dislike that my husband is wailing in self-pity because he can’t have the spoiled life he was used to anymore. I dislike to watch how you spend your time brooding and I can’t stand it when you get the children down with your sarcasm only because something didn’t go exactly as you want it. I’m so sorry, Captain von Trapp, but the world unfortunately doesn’t revolve around you!”
“Thank you for telling me. It’s always nice to learn to truth.” He sat down, folding his hands and looking up at her with cold eyes. “Anything more, my dear?”
“Oh yes!” Maria was breathing hard. “You want me to face reality, Georg? What with trying it yourself for once? You’ve got seven healthy, beautiful, talented children who never complain about what they’d lost, but who love and adore you, even when you don’t deserve it! They’ve gone through so much with you, but instead of appreciating it you’re still not able to see what a great gift they are.”
“It seems I’m an ungrateful wretch,” he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes, you are!” she shouted, balling her fists.
“Well, then we’ve cleared this up. It’s interesting to learn how you see me.” He actually felt as if he’d got punched in the stomach.
“That’s how you make me see you,” Maria sank down on the chair, tears running over her cheeks. “Georg, sometimes I think I don’t know you anymore. You’ve forgotten how to smile. You don’t know anymore what’s important in life. You even don’t notice how the children struggle to make you proud!”
“Well, as we’ve just established: I’m an ungrateful wretch.”
“God, Georg - I hate when you do that!” Maria shook her head.
“You seem to hate a lot about me nowadays,” he replied, rising up. “Well, I can’t help it. So it’s probably better I go to bed now. I’m tired and tomorrow we’ll be a long day.”
“Georg …”
He only shook his head and stalked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind him quietly. His entire body seemed to hurt now and he felt like breaking down. He’d known Maria’s temper; he even knew that he’d provoked her. Nevertheless her words had hurt, deeply hurt. She didn’t know him anymore? He didn’t deserve his children’s love and adoration? Probably he didn’t deserve her love anymore either. He’d obviously lost it - and he didn’t know how to live without it.
To be continued.
* “Gnädige Frau” is a rather old-fashioned, German formal address for a lady. In Georg von Trapp’s time it was already “typical Austrian” to use it.
** “Ritter” = “Knight”. The title, in rank and position alike to the English “Sir”, was bestowed by the Austrian emperor to the true Georg Ludwig von Trapp for his merits as a naval officer.
*** At the Spain Riding School in Vienna only white Lipizzan stallions become presented. And they’ve got always “double names”: The first one after the line their father is from (and there are five lines in the Lipizzan breeding: Pluto, Conversano, Maestoso, Siglavy, Neapolitano) and for the second one the name of their mother.
Amor vincit omnia
Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Chapter 2: In the new world
New York, October 1938
Georg von Trapp suppressed a sigh and, bracing his aching back with one hand, forced a smile. “I want you to relax, gnädige Frau*. Simply try to feel the movement of your horse and how it takes you with it …”
How often he’d already told this story today? It was no use, especially not in the case of the blonde lady who hung on her horse like a sack of potatoes. She’d got neither the talent nor the love for it and only was there, taking lessons, because horseback riding the “European way” was fashionable, especially when done under the guidance of a true Austrian aristocrat.
Actually Georg had tried to tell his pupils that he wasn’t a Baron, but only Ritter von Trapp** and therefore certainly not high aristocracy. But now, after a few months of working as a riding-instructor, he’d given up. If they wanted an Aristocrat, he could easily play one for them, making them giggle by kissing heir hands and addressing them with “Gnädige Frau” at least twice during every lesson.
It certainly wasn’t the life Georg had dreamed of by coming to America, but it was a living, wasn’t it? And his job in the stable certainly was better as the one down at the docks he’d done during his first weeks in the new world.
The family’s rushed escape from Austria had made Georg unable to transfer as much money as he’d have wanted and actually needed. After crossing the border to Switzerland at foot he’d let his exhausted family back in a little two and had travelled to Zurich - only to learn that there wasn’t a chance to get his money out of Austria. There had been only a small amount he’d once transferred to Switzerland to keep him afloat during his skiing holidays there - just enough to pay the boarding house, third class train tickets to Genoa and for two modest cabins on a ship to America. The rest of his money was stuck in Austria - the Nazis had frozen his bank accounts and certainly wouldn’t give him a chance to get at it.
It had been Maria who’d kept the spirit up during this time. She’d taken the news about the money rather calmly, only saying: “Well, we’ll have to earn our living then” and announcing: “It will be a big adventure!”
Georg hadn’t been this optimistic. Just on the contrary, he’d been almost sick with worrying and during the nights on the ship, listening to the quiet breathing of his sons - with only two cabins he’d shared one with the boys while Maria had slept in the other with the girls - he’d more than once asked himself if he hadn’t done wrong with leading his family into this. Hadn’t he been egotistical in his decision to leave their homeland? If he would have joined the Third Reich’s navy, Maria and the children would have gotten the chance to remain in their home, living in comfort and - well, with them keeping their heads down and their mouths closed … “We could have made it through,” he’d said one evening as he’d stood with Maria at the deck, looking out at the dark sea.
She’d shaken her head. “No, Georg, I don’t believe so. You know what happened in Germany - it will happen in Austria too. And could you stand to have your sons in the Hitler Youth and your daughters wearing the ugly uniforms of the Nazis’ girl organization? Can you imagine our children singing their songs, marching to their tunes, calling out their shibboleths and learning to despise people only because they’re not Arian? And even more, Georg: You always say that Hitler will start a war soon - and what would happen to you then, being an officer in his navy? How great, do you think, would your chances of surviving be?”
“Not too big, I suppose,” Georg had answered. “But it’s not me we’re talking about, but you and the children.”
“And what would we do without you, Georg? The children need you and so do I. We belong together and whatever comes we’ll make it through - together. As long as we’re together, I don’t fear anything.”
They’d walked back to their cabins then and in front of the girls’ room Georg had taken his wife in his arms. “I love you, Maria. I wouldn’t know how to go through this without you.”
“You’d manage!” Maria had rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. “You don’t know how much I’d like to have you close tonight,” she’d whispered in his ear.
“I think I do know,” he’d replied, pressing her for a moment against him. “I miss you, Maria, but - don’t let us go there.” He’d let her go, kissed her forehead and almost fled in to the other cabin.
At this time he’d thought and hoped that their nightly separation would end as soon as they were settled in USA. But now, after almost half a year, he was still sleeping alone - or better said, in the company of his sons. With the little money left to them they could only afford a very small flat in a rather shabby building. A little kitchen, a small bathroom, a living room and two little bedrooms - more wasn’t there. So the one room which was supposed to be the master bedroom had become Louisa’s, Brigitta’s, Marta’s and Gretl’s room while the smaller one, just big enough for a bunk bed and a small single one was where Georg and the boy slept while Maria and Liesl shared a sofa in the living room.
As much as Georg loved his children and wanted to be close to them - this kind of closeness wasn’t sitting too well with him. He’d been used on a big house, of having a lot of space and of spending time on his own in the sanctuary of his study. And with having servants around all the time of his life, he was also used on orderliness. Now he’d always put away something - a toy, books, school things, clothes - before he could sit down on a chair; shaved in the kitchen because the bathroom was always occupied by children already too late for school and couldn’t get a moment of his own, not to mention that he couldn’t get an undisturbed one with his wife. The private part of his marital life was made up from stolen kisses in the kitchen when the children were in bed - and even these kisses had become rare because at night Maria was always so exhausted she almost fell asleep during dinner. Running a household with nine people and working as a seamstress was too much even for her and despite of Georg and the children helping as much as possible.
Besides Georg didn’t feel too well himself. During the war he’d once injured his back and despite of the scar almost not visible anymore, he got to remember the old wound, especially after a day of hard work. The first weeks in America as he’d worked on the docks, carrying heavy loads, he’d sometimes almost broken down. He hadn’t wanted to show Maria how much the hardship of his job had lasted on him - she’d gotten enough things to worry about. Yet his sons had noticed how he’d tossed in is bed and moaned in his sleep and Friedrich had told Maria.
It had led to their first big argument. She’d told him he couldn’t work at the docks any longer and he, actually knowing that she was right, but not seeing another way to provide for his family, had yelled at her: “What do you expect me to do? Sitting around here, watching how you work your fingers to the bones? What kind of a man do you think I am?”
Maria’s temper had gotten the better of her - she’d raised her voice too: “What kind of a man I think you are? An exceptionally pig-headed one! What do you want to prove with your stubbornness?”
From there on it had been a short road for him to tell her that she didn’t understand him (even by saying so he’d already thought: “Ugh, Georg - you couldn’t have found something sounding more clichéd and stupid”) and that he’d always disliked her way of talking back and provoking him. Maria had paid back with naming his pride “idiotic” and in asking him when he’d at last learn that the world wouldn’t revolve around him. Then she’d started to cry and fled in bed while he had felt like the worst rascal ever. He’d sworn to himself that he would make up with the next day, but then in the morning he’d once again stumbled about a pair of boats Kurt hadn’t put away. Edgy as he’d been after the row and a sleepless night he’d yelled at his son and Liesl who’d tried to interfere and to calm him. Maria, as always, had gone between, scolding him for letting his chagrin out on the children. “They’re not responsible for you feeling lousy, Georg!”
“Oh, I know - I’m the one responsible for the disaster we name our life now! And I even know that how much you all despise me for it!” he’d roared and stormed out of the flat.
Coming back in the evening he’d found the children very quiet and Maria still furious. She’d hardly spoken a word with him, but in this night he hadn’t felt like bothering about. Work had been exceptionally hard on this day and the pain in his back had become so bad he was hardly able to stand upright anymore. Therefore he’d directly gone to bed after dinner, hiding himself and his misery under his blanket.
For three days the atmosphere in the von Trapp household had been subdued and all too quiet. Then, at the third evening after the argument, Louisa had stormed in the flat, her eyes beaming with excitement: “Father, father, look who I’ve met!” Behind her Alois Hrdlitschka, once a professional equestrian at the Spain Riding School in Vienna where Georg had learned too, had appeared, grinning from one ear to the other.
“Trust your daughter to find horses even in New York!” he’d said and hugged Georg. “I almost fell from Pluto Deflorata*** as I suddenly saw her standing at the fence.”
“Pluto Deflorata? You have him here?” Georg hadn’t almost believed his ears.
“Yes - him and the good, old Conversano Theokratia. You remember him, do you? He was so great in getting you down every time you tried a levade with him! You should have seen it, Louisa. It was so funny! First Conversano Theokratia always digged his hoofs in the sand as if he wouldn’t have the slightest idea what Georg could wish from him. Then, when your father became more energetic with his aids, Conny made one jump upward. It always made Georg slip down from Conny’s back, falling on his butt and sitting in the sand, looking like a beetle on its back.”
Sitting on the sofa in the living room, Alois had told the family how he’d come to America with three stallions. He’d become hired by an American circus and being the son of a Jewish mother he’d seen this as his chance to come away from Europe and the Nazis. So he’d sold one of his stallions and used to money to rent a stable close to the Central Park. “Now I’ve got a dozen of horses on my own and around another dozen to care for - paid, of course, and handsomely, as I would like to add. The business is going well - horse back riding is very fashionable among the posh people in New York nowadays. And you know what, Georg? You’re just the man I need for making even more money. You know, I was always better in managing horses as in riding them. But you with your talent as a rider and instructor, your posh British accent and your looks - New York’s society ladies will trample all over me for getting lessons from you or having their horses ridden by you.” He’d rubbed his hands, his brown eyes beaming. “Georg, we can make a fortune when working together!”
Georg had been rather skeptical about working in the stables, but Maria had loved the idea. “It’s in every case better as your job in the docks. You’ll have horses around - and you love horses, don’t you?”
Louisa had seconded her: “You really a great in teaching people how to ride, father!”
“And it will be better for your back!” Friedrich had added.
So one week and another talk with Alois later Georg had quitted at the docks, bought a pair of used riding boats and breeches and had started at the stable. It was - in so far Maria had been right - a much better job as the one in the docks. Sometimes in the mornings, when he wasn’t teaching untalented society hyenae, but was working with the horses, Georg even enjoyed it very much, especially after Alois, generous friend as always, had given him Conversano Theokratia to work with. “We don’t want you to spoil your style by always doing young or horses in need of correction. Besides watching you with Conny will make our female customers even more swooning about you. They will want to learn riding as you do - and therefore they’ll buy more lessons and more horses. We’ll be able to start a breeding farm too and then we’ll come into the real money. Just you wait and see, Georg - you’ll live on your own land soon again!”
Actually Georg’s wishes didn’t go so far anymore. A house, big enough to get Maria and him a bedroom of their own, would already be enough. Only there were other things even more important like the children’s clothes, books and their education. Liesl was soon to become ready with High School and to go into a college. Friedrich who’d started piano lessons back in Austria and had become quite good, had found a piano to practice on in his school, but he actually needed one of his own and a better teacher. Kurt was growing so fast he needed new clothes almost every half year and Brigitta longed to start violoncello lessons for which she would need to have an instrument of her own.
Actually the only von Trapp child who didn’t long for something was Louisa. She was probably the one in the family who was happy about moving to New York. Back in Austria she’d always been scolded for being a tomboy and spending so much time in the stable, but now she wasn’t only allowed there as soon as she was out of school, but got even paid by Alois for helping the groom with cleaning boxes, feeding horses and preparing them for lessons or work. Besides she used every opportunity she got to get in the saddle herself. Alois supported her in that, telling Georg that Louisa on horseback was good for the business, too. “Or do you know a better way to show how decent a horse is as showing the customers your daughter riding it?” Of course, when it came to the dressage lessons it was still Georg, who presented the horses, but Louisa was becoming better every day and soon she would be able to do the entire show.
Georg was proud on his daughter and he enjoyed having her so close with him. However, even Louisa sharing so much time with him didn’t make up for the distance which had developed between him and Maria. Georg still loved her, but about her feelings he wasn’t sure anymore. She was a wonderful mother to his children and, despite of being so busy with the household and her work, she still managed to play and to sing with them, but Georg could hardly remember when she’d last spend time with him. Just the other day he tried to invite her to a little stroll in the evening, but Maria had declined, pointing to the rather ugly lilac dress she was just working at. “Mrs Summers - you know the lady from the baker’s shop? - needs this tomorrow.” Then she’d kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you play a bit with the children?” She was treading him like one of her charges and sometimes he wasn’t sure she still remembered that he actually was supposed to be more for her as a family member to feed and to look after.
The blonde was almost through with her lesson now and she looked it. Her hair was hanging in her sweaty face, her cheeks had become flushed under the heavy make-up and she was gasping for air like a goldfish out of its bowl. Georg decided to give her a moment to collect herself - the hope that she’d once collect her horse too, he’d lost long before. “Walk, please - and let him have the reins.” The brown gelding used that as a chance to throw his head up and Georg cursed inwardly. This horse certainly was too clever for a weak rider like his owner. Georg would need to ride him himself soon for getting him back in shape. Only he couldn’t do it directly after the lesson - Miss “Just call me Tipper” Burrows, the exceptionally beautiful and exceptionally spoiled only daughter of an exceptionally wealthy widower, his next customer, was already waiting in the stands and over the door of the hall he could see how Louisa was grooming the rather nervous thoroughbred mare, “Just call me Tipper” had bought only two weeks before because “she’s got such a cute face, hasn’t she?” Only the cuteness of the mare’s face didn’t - at least in Georg’s opinion - make up for her being extremely catty. The mare, though only five years old, had probably experienced something bad from humans; therefore she spent most of her time under the saddle with attempts to get rid off her rider.
“Let’s try canter, shall we?” Georg offered to the blonde. “Take up the reins again, sit firm, but relaxed - and now trot! Canter in the next corner - half halt, right leg back, lead him with the outer rein and get him in position with the inner one.”
It didn’t work - of course it didn’t with the blonde falling forward on her horse’s shoulder. “Well, we try again in the next corner - canter now!” Georg commanded. It once again didn’t work out. “Half halt and walk.” Georg stepped closer. “Your problem is that you’re always falling forward. Yet your horse can’t canter with your weight on its shoulders. Just sit back and keep your position. Shall we try it again?”
“Oh, Baron - why is it so difficult?” the blonde complained.
“It’s rather easy when you’ve got the trick once - and I’m sure you’ll learn it soon!” he comforted her. “Now trot again - and in the next corner the famous half halt, then your right leg goes back while you sit firmly on your backside.”
This time it worked at least in so far as that the brown gelding started to canter. Georg once again suppressed a sigh. “Wrong canter, gnädige Frau. We want him to strike off on off fore. Half halt, trot and a new start in the next corner, please!”
“I’m really exhausted now, Baron!” the blonde whined. “You’re rather hard on me, you know?”
Georg forced a smile. “Only for your good. I want you to learn as much as possible. Everything else would be a sad waste of talent.”
Question only was: Whose talent? The one of the gelding or the one of the instructor? The rider certainly didn’t have any.
“Door free?” Louisa was there, holding the black mare on her reins.
“Door is free,” Georg confirmed, smiling at his daughter. Turning his eyes back to his pupil, he said: “I’m sure you’ll manage one time more. We can’t send him back into his box like that, can we? So please, concentrate and try again.”
Probably the brown gelding had got now that his only way for getting finished was cantering on the right hand - despite of the odd movements his rider was making. He fell into a rather lazy canter and Georg decided that he would for once not notice how much the horse was sparing itself. He would get him back at shape tomorrow, that would be enough. “Half halt, walk and let him stretch,” he commanded. „Nicely done, gnädige Frau - and didn’t I say you can do it?“
The blonde made her horse walk in the middle of the hall where Georg was standing. Smiling at him, she said: “I’m really, really exhausted now, Baron. But it was a good lesson, wasn’t it?”
“It was fine.” Georg stroked the gelding’s neck. “If you want to, my daughter can take over for getting him dry and back in his box”, he offered.
“That would be nice!” She reached out for his shoulders, letting herself glide down from her horse into his arms, pressing herself against him and looking up at him with what she obviously believed a seducing glance. Georg forced another smile, maneuvered himself out of her reach and clapped the gelding’s sweaty neck again. “Could you just keep him for a moment so that I can take over my next horse?”
She’d obviously not given up on him yet. “Thank you for the lesson, Baron!” She batted her eye lids. “When will we see each other again?” She made the question sound as if they were to have a date and Georg cringed inwardly once more.
Heavens, he was wearing his wedding ring, he mostly had his daughter with him, he frequently mentioned his wife - what more would it need to make those women get that he wasn’t available? But being charming was part of his job, so he smiled, took the blonde’s hand and bent over it for the hint of a hand kiss. “I think our next lesson will be on Tuesday. I’m looking forward to it.”
“So do I, dear Baron, so do I!” She looked at him as if she’d like to eat him alive and Georg, feeling a cold shudder running down his back.
“I wish you a nice day!” He nodded and turned around to Louisa who was waiting just a few steps away, tenderly stroking the mare’s nose. “Louisa, please take over the gelding. Ten minutes walk, then he goes back in his box.”
Louisa nodded, but bit her bottom lip. As he came closer to her, she whispered: “Be careful, father. The mare is pretty fidgety today.”
“Thanks - and don’t worry!” He checked the girth of the saddle, took the reins up and mounted the mare. As always she immediately tried to run forward, but Georg stopped her - she needed to learn that she was only to move when he allowed it. Collecting the reins in his left hand where he already held his whip, he turned the mare so that she was standing in front of the stands, lifted his cap and smiled at the lady up there. “Hello, Miss Burrows. It’s nice to see you.”
“Oh, just call me Tipper, Baron! And I must say, you look rather dashing on my mare. Isn’t she a cutie?” Brunette Tipper Burrows crossed her long legs, showing Georg a generous amount of skin.
“Let’s see what the cutie is up to today,” Georg gave back, using his back to keep the “cutie” away from going against his legs. The mare tried to turn around to the left and to take her head up, ready to fight her rider. “Calm down, lassie!” Georg clapped her neck before he took the reins up again. After Louisa walking with her for ten minutes, the mare was already warmed-up and wanted to run. Georg started a trot, cursing inwardly because the mare was tense and her movement felt very uncomfortable. She wasn’t exactly what the doctor would have ordered for his back and he felt how the ache in it became worse.
Georg clenched his teeth, reminding himself that working at the docks had been worse and concentrated on his horse. Louisa had been right about her: The mare was extremely fidgety and absolutely not willing to let him calm her down. Instead she used every opportunity to speed up and to against his aides. Georg talked to her soothingly while trying to get her to a relaxed trot. Circle, volte, serpent lines, circle again, big serpent lines, volte to the left, volte to the right, shoulder-in - she was giving in now, already sweating with white foam flocking her neck and chest. Yet she was still tensed and Georg decided to give her a chance to let some steam off. Canter would probably get her to cooperate fully, so he put his leg back.
Just this moment “just call me Tipper” on the stands let her bag drop. With a heavy bang it landed on the wooden stairs, startling the mare. She exploded, jumping in the air with all four legs, bucking like a rodeo horse. Georg didn’t have the slightest chance - as she raised her butt in the air, kicking out with her hindlegs, he was catapulted out of the saddle, bumping with his ride side against the wall of the hall and falling down then.
For a moment he couldn’t breathe. The hard landing had knocked the wind out of him. Struggling for air he closed his eyes, turned on his back and concentrated on moving his toes and hands, noticing with relief that everything worked what meant his spine was still in one piece. Only he still didn’t get enough air and felt already a bit dizzy, so he gave himself a moment of simply lying there.
Suddenly Louisa was there. “Father?” Her voice was terrified. “Father, are you injured?”
Struggling for breath he sat up and opened his eyes to look at her pale face. “I’m ...” still gaping, he shook his head. “I’m fine,” he managed then. “Don’t worry.”
“Georg - are you okay?” Alois came close, holding the black mare.
And there was Tipper Burrows, wringing her hands. “Oh heavens, Baron - what have I done? Alois, shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Georg repeated and stood up, bracing himself against the wall.
“Shall I take over, Georg?” Alois asked.
“Certainly not!” Georg stretched, limped to him - his hip was now hurting even worse as his back - and took the reins of the mare. “But you can help me up.”
“Sure?” Alois still looked worried.
“Don’t you remember?” Georg tried to joke. “Having one’s head under one’s arm is the only excuse for not getting up again after a fall!” he reminded his friend of the favourite saying of their former instructor. “My head is still where it belongs. So I need to go back in the saddle.” He put his knee in the hand Alois offered him, let his friend jerk him up and collected the reins. “Okay, thanks, Alois!”
“Be careful, Georg, will you?” Alois took Tipper Burrows’ arm. “Let’s go out, shall we?”
“Are you sure the Baron is okay?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Georg who’d just started to trot the mare again.
“Georg’s though!” Alois assured her.
Georg actually didn’t feel though in the moment. His chest and hip hurt and he knew, he’d develop some nasty bruises. But bearing with such little incidents was part of his job, wasn’t it? He didn’t intend to whine about.
Nevertheless Georg wasn’t well as he came home two hours later. On their way back in the subway he’d asked Louisa to keep quiet about his fall. “You know, your mother is already rather afraid of horses and worrying a big deal. She doesn’t need to know about this little incident.”
Louisa hadn’t been happy about his request. “What am I to answer when she asks how our day went?”
“You can tell her it was nothing out of the usual.” Georg had tried a grin. “Falling down is quite normal for a rider, isn’t it? There’s certainly no need to make a big fuss about.”
Luckily neither Louisa nor Georg were asked about their day in the stable. Instead Brigitta was already waiting for her sister at the door, all excitement: “There you are at last! We thought already you would never come back! You must change immediately - we’re going to sing!”
Liesl joined Brigitta. “Isn’t it great? We’ll sing something really demanding - Handel’s Te Deum in D major. It’s a great piece and we’re to have a lot of fun with it.”
Georg wrinkled his forehead. “Could someone perhaps explain to me what you’re talking about?” He felt already slightly annoyed again - hadn’t he made it clear enough that he didn’t want his children to sing in public? The Salzburg folk festival had been the exception from the rule and having participated in it, certainly didn’t make for him allowing his family becoming a band a circus now.
Maria stood in the threshold of the kitchen. “I’ve allowed the children to sing in the St. Agnes choir,” she said. “I was talking to father O’Donnell this morning and he told me he’d like to do some baroque music, only he would need a few real good singers. And he’s got this wonderful old lady - Mrs Armstrong from around the corner - who was once a great opera singer. She’ll give the singers from the choir voice lessons for free. It’s such a great opportunity for the children, Georg. You know how much they like to sing - and it’s in a church, Georg!”
“I would have liked to become asked before,” he said stiffly.
“Georg,” she started again, but was interrupted by Kurt running out of the bathroom, loudly announcing: “I’m ready - can we go now?”
“Georg, your dinner is in the oven,” Maria announced, obviously trying to distract him.
“I’ll have a shower then,” Georg sighed, turning to the bathroom.
“Oh, father - I’m afraid there’s no warm water left,” Friedrich said regretfully. “You see, I’ve just come back from school and we had been playing baseball …”
“Oh thanks, Friedrich!” Georg’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “It’s always great to learn how much you care about me. I mean, it’s not like I would normally come home around this time, needing a shower.”
“I’m sorry, father. I didn’t think of it.” Friedrich bit his bottom lip and looked at Maria.
“Georg, why don’t you have your dinner first and shower then?” she suggested.
“Because I’ve still not given up on civilization entirely!” he said coldly. “I refuse to have dinner in my riding gear. But don’t worry about me - it’s said that cold showers are good for the cardiovascular system.” Georg stalked of the bathroom without looking back at his wife and the children who watched him with the now already familiar “Duck - he’s in one of his mood again!” looks. He knew himself that he’d just overreacted, but sometimes he felt as if the entire family would have ganged up against him.
Coming out of the bathroom, wrapped in a flannel dressing gown, Georg found the flat immensely quiet. His family was obviously gone and so he was surprised to see Maria sitting in the kitchen, for once not working, but with her hands in her lap.
“What you’re doing here? I thought you were to go to sing,” he said.
“I know the piece - I sung it once back in Salzburg,” Maria answered with a forced smile. “Besides I thought you’d perhaps like company for your dinner. I’ve made a soup, stew and I can get you same salad, if you want to.”
“What about Louisa? Did she eat something?” he asked, sitting down at the table where Maria had laid out a dish and cutlery for him.
“I got her a sandwich.” Maria was up on her feet again, putting a bowl with vegetable soup on the table.
“Good.” Georg nodded. He actually wasn’t hungry, but tired and sore. In the mirror of the bathroom he’d inspected his chest and hip and discovered that there were already hematomas developing.
Maria spooned soup in his dish and sat down again. “How was your day, Georg?”
“The usual,” he replied, stirring his soup. “And yours?”
“Rather nice,” Maria replied. “Father O’Donnell is delighted about the new drapes I made for his study. He’s got me another job. There’s a very nice young woman in his parish, a widow who’s to marry again soon. She’s got a bit of money and she wants a very special wedding gown which I’ll be sewing for her.”
“Well, we can do with the money”, Georg said, eating his soup. As always he felt awkward when thinking about his wife working for money. Only half one year before as he’d married her, he’d thought of spoiling her with everything money could buy. Now she was working through the nights for keeping the family afloat.
“There’s something even better, Georg!” Maria was beaming. “You remember the Millers? The nice, older couple we met at the church two weeks before? They live in a flat over the shop opposite of St. Agnes - and they’re probably going to move soon. Mr Miller is going to become retired and they want to live close to their only daughter who’s married in Florida. You know, father O’Donnell who knows the landlord of the Millers, says we could probably have the flat.”
Georg had got up, put his dish in the sink and was reaching for the pot with stew now. Turning around with it, he bumped against one of the chairs standing around - the kitchen really was too small and all too cramped - and winced because of his injured hip.
“Georg? Are you okay?” Maria asked worried.
“Apart from hating that the children never put their chairs back under the table - yes!” he answered sharper as he’d intended to. Sitting down again, he spooned some of the stew on his dish and looked skeptically at it. Of course, he appreciated that Maria did all the cooking, but even as in his most charming mood he wouldn’t have said that she was very talented in it. Trying to soften his tone, he asked: “Can we afford the flat?”
“It’s twenty dollars more of rent as this one,” Maria replied, biting her bottom lip.
“Twenty dollars? That’s a bit much.” He tried the first bite from the stew, chewing slowly on the rather though meat.
“I’ve done a calculation, Georg,” Maria looked at him with hope in her eyes. “We can manage, Georg. I’m sure I’ll can get some more good jobs and you’re doing so well in the stables - we certainly can manage. And it’s such a nice flat, Georg! It’s got four rooms and there are even two little chambers up at the attic. We could give them to Liesl and Louisa - they’d love to have rooms of their own! And then we could use the one bedroom for the little girls and the other, smaller one, for the boys and we’d still have a living room and,” she was slightly blushing and reaching for his hand, “a bedroom for us. Wouldn’t that be nice, Georg?”
“Considered how badly Kurt snores, I’d certainly enjoy it,” he answered, swallowing another bit of the stew and patting her hand. Pushing his dish aside, he looked up at here. “I’m afraid, I’m not very hungry today. Thank you nevertheless for the meal.”
“I know you don’t like stew much,” Maria said, taking the pot away und putting it in the sink. “But,” she smiled apologetically at him, “it’s not too expansive and doesn’t need much time to prepare.”
“Maria,” he sighed, “I admit I was rather spoiled back at home. But I survived around ten years with eating in the imperial navy where people maintained that the quality of a ship’s food is reciprocal to its strength in combat. If this would have been true, we would have been invincible.”
Maria smiled and cleared the table up, putting his second dish in the sink too. “Georg?” She turned and looked at him. “I believe it’s the first time we’re alone with all the children away since we’re here.”
“Yes - and isn’t it oddly quiet here without them?” He rose up, pouring himself a glass of water. Drinking it he put it in the sink too.
Maria only seemed to have waited for him having his hands free. Stepping closer, she hugged him, her lips gliding over his jaw.
He hadn’t been prepared for her sudden closeness, but his body reacted immediately on it, a rush of arousal making him almost dizzy. And now her hand was on the back of his neck and his mouth found hers, kissing her deeply and passionately. She pulled even closer, bumping against his chest. Georg winced again, breaking the kiss - heavens, that had hurt.
“What’s the matter, Georg?” Maria was still stroking the back of his neck, watching him anxiously.
“Nothing.” He inhaled deeply, took her hand away from his neck and kissed it while backing away from her. “I only don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“We’re alone, Georg. The children won’t be back for another hour,” Maria whispered, her soft voice luring him.
“Nevertheless it’s not a good idea,” he repeated firmly. “I absolutely refuse to become caught in flagrante delicto by my children. Besides,” he looked around in the small kitchen with the shabby furniture they’d bought second hand, “I certainly don’t intend to get you pregnant now. We’ve got already seven children to worry about; we really don’t need another one.”
Maria paled and looked at him with as if he’d just slapped her. “You said once you’d like to have more children!” she whispered.
“Here?” He shook his head. “Maria, are you insane? How could we have another child here, in an already overcrowded, messy flat with hardly enough money to provide for the needs of the children we already have? Maria, you really must have gotten out of your mind!” All the frustration of the last months was coming up now and he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “My dear wife, I think it’s time you face reality. We’re stuck in misery, struggling for the simplest needs of our daily life with you already having too much work …”
“We’re together, Georg,” she interrupted him. “And we’re free and safe.”
“Oh heavens, Maria - stop playing the saint!” Georg exploded. “You can’t tell me you like how we live here. So just finish pretending and treading me like a fool. The children aren’t there; you mustn’t do the usual motherly encouragement show. Be honest for once!”
“Honest?” Maria’s eyes were glittering and her voice was shaking with fury now. “You don’t wish me to be honest! It could lead to me telling you what I really dislike about our life here!”
“And that would be?” he bellowed.
“Why, captain? You want for once hear what I’ve got to tell you?” She gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles becoming white by it. “Well, here we go: I immensely dislike that my husband is wailing in self-pity because he can’t have the spoiled life he was used to anymore. I dislike to watch how you spend your time brooding and I can’t stand it when you get the children down with your sarcasm only because something didn’t go exactly as you want it. I’m so sorry, Captain von Trapp, but the world unfortunately doesn’t revolve around you!”
“Thank you for telling me. It’s always nice to learn to truth.” He sat down, folding his hands and looking up at her with cold eyes. “Anything more, my dear?”
“Oh yes!” Maria was breathing hard. “You want me to face reality, Georg? What with trying it yourself for once? You’ve got seven healthy, beautiful, talented children who never complain about what they’d lost, but who love and adore you, even when you don’t deserve it! They’ve gone through so much with you, but instead of appreciating it you’re still not able to see what a great gift they are.”
“It seems I’m an ungrateful wretch,” he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes, you are!” she shouted, balling her fists.
“Well, then we’ve cleared this up. It’s interesting to learn how you see me.” He actually felt as if he’d got punched in the stomach.
“That’s how you make me see you,” Maria sank down on the chair, tears running over her cheeks. “Georg, sometimes I think I don’t know you anymore. You’ve forgotten how to smile. You don’t know anymore what’s important in life. You even don’t notice how the children struggle to make you proud!”
“Well, as we’ve just established: I’m an ungrateful wretch.”
“God, Georg - I hate when you do that!” Maria shook her head.
“You seem to hate a lot about me nowadays,” he replied, rising up. “Well, I can’t help it. So it’s probably better I go to bed now. I’m tired and tomorrow we’ll be a long day.”
“Georg …”
He only shook his head and stalked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind him quietly. His entire body seemed to hurt now and he felt like breaking down. He’d known Maria’s temper; he even knew that he’d provoked her. Nevertheless her words had hurt, deeply hurt. She didn’t know him anymore? He didn’t deserve his children’s love and adoration? Probably he didn’t deserve her love anymore either. He’d obviously lost it - and he didn’t know how to live without it.
To be continued.
* “Gnädige Frau” is a rather old-fashioned, German formal address for a lady. In Georg von Trapp’s time it was already “typical Austrian” to use it.
** “Ritter” = “Knight”. The title, in rank and position alike to the English “Sir”, was bestowed by the Austrian emperor to the true Georg Ludwig von Trapp for his merits as a naval officer.
*** At the Spain Riding School in Vienna only white Lipizzan stallions become presented. And they’ve got always “double names”: The first one after the line their father is from (and there are five lines in the Lipizzan breeding: Pluto, Conversano, Maestoso, Siglavy, Neapolitano) and for the second one the name of their mother.