Amor vincit omnia, chapter 3
Huh - is someone out there, reading this stuff?
Amor vincit omnia
Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Chapter 3: Moving on
New York, November 1938
Slinging her arms around herself, Maria walked through the aisle of the stable, carefully keeping away from the horses on her left and right. She’d always been afraid of horses. They were too big for her and they were having too much dangerous hoofs and teeth, didn’t they? However, her anxiety about the big beasts wasn’t the only reason why she rarely came to the riding school. Mostly she simply didn’t have time for the trip through half of the city, being always busy with the household and her work. And in the last two weeks - well, things between Georg and her were still not straightened out. They were hardly talking to each other. Since their argument he’d distanced himself from her, keeping her with cold politeness at arm’s length. She knew, she’d hurt him and she regretted it, but how to apologize to him when she couldn’t get him on his own? In one account he’d obviously taken her words to heart: He spent all his free time with the children again, he even accompanied them into church for their choir rehearsals and never missed to tell them how proud he was on their singing and accomplishments at school.
“Maria - how wonderful to see you!” Alois had discovered her. Coming out of his little office at the end of the aisle, he took her hand and bend over it for a formal kiss. “You look lovely!”
“Thank you, Alois. It’s nice to see you too,” Maria smiled back. Alois Hrditschlka had become a real friend and she always liked when he came to visit.
“Why do I think you didn’t come to see me?” Alois smiled. “Only your husband isn’t there in the moment. He’s hacking out with Tipper Burrows.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “Admittedly they should be back soon - if this little beast of hers hasn’t got Georg in trouble again.”
“How do you mean that?” Maria asked, suddenly feeling a knot in her stomach.
Alois took her arm and led her through the stable to the back yard where a bench stood next to the outdoor arena. “From here we can see them coming back. And it’s a nice day for November, isn’t it?” he said, offering Maria a place on the bench.
“The horse Georg is riding - what’s the problem with it?” Maria insisted.
“Oh, well …” Alois was sighing. “Didn’t he tell you how she threw him up two weeks before? I was just coming in to the hall as he was flying, banging against the wall. I thought he’d have broken every bone in his body. I’m sure he got at least two rips crashed. But you know how stubborn Georg is. Immediately afterwards he was in the saddle again, showing the beast how to behave. And the next morning the both of them were fighting out here again - I really thought this time she’d kill him! Well, now he’s got her, but still - I only trust her as far as I could throw her single-handed. It’s always the same here: People buy horses they can’t handle and then they expect us to deal with them, not minding that we risk our bones every time when mounting such a beast.”
Maria didn’t listen to his chatter anymore. She felt as if a cold hand would have gripped her heart and squeezed it. Two weeks ago - he’d winced as he’d bumped against the chair in the kitchen and he’d twitched as she’d embraced him. And hadn’t he been rather pale this night and the way Louisa had looked at him at breakfast the next morning as she’d asked him if he’d do the mare again ... how could she have overseen that he was in pain?
“He didn’t tell me,” she said quietly.
“Oh, he didn’t?” Alois whistled. “Then I’m in trouble - he’ll want my head for babbling about.” Alois rolled his eyes. “You know how he is, Maria - proud to no end. And probably he didn’t want you to worry about him. He always says you’ve got enough on your plate already.”
“I would probably worry less if he’d tell me more!” Maria answered heatedly, immediately biting her lip. She actually hadn’t wanted to say that. As good a friend as Alois was - she didn’t intend to talk about her problems with Georg to anyone.
Luckily Alois hadn’t understood that she hadn’t talked about the incident, but in general. “Maria,” he patted her hand, “you really mustn’t fret too much. Georg is a damn good rider. You know, they once wanted to keep him at the Spain Riding School back in Vienna? They offered him a place as a professional there - a big honour for someone who came as a private pupil. He’s really very talented and could certainly have become a master in the school. It’s actually quite a pity he liked the sea even more as the horses.”
“I think he was a good naval officer too,” Maria smiled, glad to be on safe ground again.
“Oh, certainly. One didn’t get knighted by the emperor if not for outstanding services. Your husband was a true hero, Maria.”
“Well, I believe he still is,” Maria replied seriously. “The way he got us out of Austria …” She shuddered by remembering how he’d faced the young Nazi in the Abbey. While she’d been almost dying with fear, he’d stood there in front of a gun, calmly trying to persuade the boy who directed the weapon at him to come with them, to leave the Nazis, to see the error of his way. And then on their way over the mountains as he’d encouraged and cheered up the children, carrying his youngest almost all the way - at this time she’d thought that nothing could ever come between and despite of the sadness about leaving their homeland, she’d been happy and looking forward to their future in America.
“Look, they’re coming!” Alois pointed with his chin to a path which led in the park.
At its end, showed by big, old trees, two horses and riders were approaching. Maria recognized the white stallion a woman was sitting on - it was one of Alois’ lipizzans. On the other horse, an elegant black mare, she saw Georg, ram road straight, but in the same time looking as relaxed as only a really good rider can. As the quartet came closer Maria could make out her husband’s face, his blue eyes accented by the blue jacket he was wearing, his skin tanned. The hair at his sleeves had greyed in the last months, but Maria found it made Georg look even more handsome and distinguished.
Watching him she felt almost overwhelmed by a wave of sadness. What had happened to them? She loved him, loved him even more as ever and only wished to come close to him again. Why couldn’t she? Why was it so difficult to talk to him, to apologize for how she’d hurt him and to tell him that she didn’t feel whole without him, that she needed him to complete her?
The young woman riding next to him was talking and Georg, listening to her while playing with his mare’s mane, laughed and twinkled at her. Maria swallowed - although the woman was a brunette, she reminded her of the baroness. There was the same kind of elegance and self-confidence, the same kind of perfectly groomed beauty and Maria looked down at herself. It had been a spontaneous idea of her to come to the stable and she hadn’t changed before, but was wearing a simply brown skirt and a beige linen shirt to firm, flat shoes and woollen stockings. And her hands - they’d become red and raw with all the washing and her nails were broken and her hair she hadn’t managed to wash in the morning because there hadn’t been any warm water once again.
It certainly hadn’t been a good idea to come into the stable like that. Georg would probably feel embarrassed by his wife looking like a kitchen maid. However, it was too late to disappear now. Alois had risen up and was waving. “Georg, look who’s here!”
“Maria!” He was wrinkling his forehead. “Anything wrong at home?”
“No, no, no - everything’s fine,” she answered quickly.
“Good.” He turned and looked at the young woman who was waiting for him, studying Maria curiously. “You excuse me for a moment, Maria? Alois, could you?” He dismounted the mare, giving his friend the reins and stepped over to the white stallion. Stroking his neck, he smiled up at Tipper Burrows. “That went well, didn’t it?”
“It always goes well when you’re looking after me, Georg!” The woman swung her leg over the stallion’s backside and glided down in Georg’s open arms, immediately turning and putting her hands on his shoulders. “And you’re so good with the mare! You know I really became afraid as she suddenly bolted, but you got her so quickly.”
“There was no reason for you to fear - Conversano Theokratia is too well-mannered for getting a lady in trouble,” Georg said, stepping away from the woman and clapping the stallion’s back.
“I wasn’t afraid about me, but about you, Georg!” the brunette gave back, coming close to him again.
The groom ran out of the stables, obviously sent by Alois who’d let the mare in. “Stall I take Conny, Mr von Trapp?”
“Yes, Jimmy - thank you. Only let me have a look at his right fore leg first. I think his hoof shoe is getting loose again.” Georg bent down to check on the stallion’s leg. “Hmm - he’ll need the farrier soon. “ Going up he once more clapped the stallion’s neck. “Good boy! Off you go.”
The woman at his side was now laying her hand on his arm. “What do you think about another excursion tomorrow? The weather’s still so nice …”
“I’m afraid my schedule is rather full tomorrow,” Georg answered, smiling his half-smile. “Besides your cutie needs real work tomorrow.”
“Well, then - when will you ride her? You know, I like watching.” The woman was nothing if not insisting.
“Around eleven, I think.” Georg looked at Maria. “But now let me introduce you ladies to each other. Maria, meet Tipper Burrows, one of my pupils. Tipper, that’s my wife Maria von Trapp.”
Maria forced a smile while Tipper Burrows once more scrutinized her from head to toe. “It’s so nice to get to know you at last!” she cried then. “May I call you Maria? Such a nice name and besides I feel as if I’d have known you for years with your daughter - and what a sweet girl your Louisa is and so alike to you - always talking about you. However, she didn’t tell me how young you’re looking - not at all like a mother of seven. Oh, am I talking too quickly? With Georg and Louisa speaking English so perfectly, I always forget that you’re not native speakers!”
Maria felt like throttling the woman. What had she thought? That Georg’s wife was a fat, stupid matron who after half one year in USA still didn’t understand English and that he therefore was up for becoming hunted by bored society girls? This one obviously had developed a heavy crush on him and didn’t mind in the least that he was married.
If necessary, Maria could become bitchy too - and now she found it necessary. “Our children are almost native English speakers,” she answered sweetly. “Their mother, Georg’s first wife, was British. So I’m the only one in the family with a heavy accent, but Georg says he thinks it quite cute, don’t you, Schätzchen?*” Possessively she put her hand on his arm, smiling up at him.
For a moment she saw amusement in his eyes and even a tiny smile. He was just up to say something, but the groom’s voice was breaking in. “Mr von Trapp, shall I get Sigi ready now?”
“Yes, please - and I need a lunge and the Vienna reins. I’ll lunge him first,” Georg answered. “Tipper, may I be excused? We’ll see us tomorrow.” He nodded at his pupil, took Maria’s arm and led her a few steps away. “I take it you didn’t come to defend my virtue,” he said, sounding once more rather cold and sarcastic.
“Would it be necessary, Georg?” In the moment Maria uttered the words she already regretted them. When had she become so jealous? She was sure it wouldn’t sit well with him and indeed - his eyes became icy now.
“Certainly not. I’ve still some honour and dignity left, thank you very much,” he replied bitingly.
Maria swallowed, once more cursing her outspokenness. When would she finally learn to keep her mouth closed? “I’m sorry, Georg,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to insult you.”
“I reckon so. Why did you come all the way out here, Maria?”
“I actually came to tell you that we can rent the flat I was talking about. The Millers are moving next week and their landlord would like to have us as his new tenants. He’s rather fond of children and says, ours are especially nice - so well-behaved and kind. And Mrs Miller said she’d let us some of her furniture for rather little money. She can’t take all of it with her and besides she wants something new and so we can get almost all of her kitchen and even her double bed she only bought two years before. She says it would be too expansive to move it.” Maria stopped, knowing that she was babbling. She’d been so happy and excited about the news, but now she felt like crying.
“Well, well, a flat over a cheese shop with some cheap, used furniture in it - isn’t that what we’ve always dreamed of?” Georg said, one eyebrow up again.
Maria fought the upcoming anger down. What had she expected? For her the flat over the cheese shop sounded really good, but Georg probably would never stop longing for the home he’d lost. “Shall we rent it, Georg? It really would be better as our place.”
“Of course we’ll rent it - it will give us at least some space to breathe.” The stable lad was now bringing out a grey stallion. Georg looked at it, sighed and turned to Maria again. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ll have work to do.” Bending he placed a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for coming out here.”
For one thing Maria could always be sure with her husband: His manners never failed him. Only she wasn’t sure if she really liked this one of his traits. Lately he’d mostly used politeness as a shield to keep her away from his thoughts and feelings.
He was now in the middle of the outdoor arena, checking the grey stallion’s saddle and talking quietly to him. Maria found herself almost envying the horse - when had Georg looked at her with so much tenderness at last?
Sighing she turned away. Standing there and watching him like a love sick teenager wouldn’t do her any good, but perhaps irritate him. But it hurt to leave like that and on her way back to the subway Maria felt sad, tired and drained. Once, only a few months ago, she’d been absolutely convinced that marrying was the right thing to do. He’d loved her, hadn’t he? And he’d said “forever” and promised her “until death parts us”. Now, not even an entire year later, it was his honour and dignity which kept him away from other women - only honour and dignity, not love anymore.
The baroness had been right about him. How had she commented Georg being in love with Maria? “He’ll get over it soon enough, I should think. Men do.” For some time Maria had wanted to believe that it had been jealousy and hurt pride what had made the baroness talking like that. But now she suddenly felt almost ashamed that she’d thought so badly about the baroness. Elsa von Schraeder had been fond on Georg and he’d given her reasons to believe that he returned her feelings. Yet he’d got over his affection for Elsa soon enough, hadn’t he? And now he’d obviously overcome his so called love for Maria too.
Why did it hurt so badly? Why did she feel as if her world would crumble around her and she would never laugh and sing again? She’d named him an ungrateful wretch, but now she wasn’t doing any better. Hadn’t he given her what she’d never even dared to dream off? She’d got seven wonderful children who were her pride and joy, who filled her heart with tenderness and love. And yes, in the moment it wasn’t easy to provide for them, but Maria had all her life been used on hard work. She’d grown up on a farm and her uncle had expected her to help as much as possible even as she’d still been a little girl. She’d milked cows, carried heavy buckets, cleaned out stables, helped in the kitchen and on the fields every day of her young life and slept in a very small chamber directly above the cows’ stable, directly under the roof. In winter it had been terribly cold there and Maria had often enough waked up with snow on her blanket while in summer her place had been overheated. She’d actually thought the cubicle in the Abbey with the hard, small coat an improvement and her room at the von Trapp villa utter luxury. She certainly wouldn’t have minded sleeping on a paillase - if only Georg would have been with her!
She missed him. Sometimes, when working on a dress, her thoughts wandered back to Paris, her body remembering how his hands had felt, how much pleasure she’d received from his kisses and touches and how entirely wonderful it had been to return the gentleness, to hear him moan and whisper her name in abandon. She still knew so very well how his skin tasted, she remembered how she’d felt a rush of pride and joy every time when he’d embraced her and she’d noticed the prove of his excitement against her. He’d wanted her very much, obviously even more as he’d expected himself. There had been this one night when they’d gone out dancing after they’d spent the afternoon in bed, making love. As Georg had pulled her close during a waltz, she’d observed that he was aroused and, smiling up at him, she’d asked: “Again, Georg?”
He’d almost blushed and looked rather awkward. “I can’t help it, Maria. You make me feel like a seventeen year old not in control of his hormones. It’s embarrassing on a man of my age, isn’t it?”
Maria had kissed his jaw. “I don’t think so,” she’d whispered. “I actually feel flattered.”
What had happened to make him forget about that? Of course, they’d hardly ever been alone with each other since their honeymoon, but wasn’t this separation supposed to make him long for her? It certainly worked on her, as she embarrassed as she sometimes felt about and it sometimes made her body ache. As she’d thrown herself in his arms two weeks before, she’d wanted nothing more as him taking her. She even wouldn’t have minded making love to him on the kitchen table if only she would have to get to feel him close again, moving deep within her.
Would something change between them when they moved in the new flat? They’d have a bedroom of their own there. They’d be alone their in the nights, able to talk, to kiss and …
Maria looked at her image, mirrored in the window of the subway. She’d lost a bit of weight during the last months. Her shoulders had become bony, but her breasts were still round and firm. In Paris Georg had loved them. He’d told her so, always giving them his special attention. And there was this nice piece of lace she’d found in the retail shop only a few days before. She’d actually intended to use it on the dress she was tailoring for Liesl’s final ball at school. However, for Liesl she could make a bow out of the flimsy piece she’d left over from the wedding robe she’d done. She would wrap it over one shoulder and fix at the backside - it would look lovely on Liesl, probably even better as the lace.
Yes, she’d use the lace for a new night shirt. She’d buy some of the pale blue batiste she’d seen in the shop the other day - now, in November, it certainly wouldn’t be too expansive. The lace over her breasts, the batiste underneath - it would look nice and it would be the right dress to wear for seducing one’s husband. As soon as they were settled in the new flat, she’d use it for showing him that she still loved and desired him. It would work, wouldn’t it? Behind the cold mask he’d put up in the last months, somewhere behind it - Maria was sure of it - was still her tender husband who needed love and tenderness as much as she did. And she would get him to show it to her again.
-------------------------
“Watch your fingers ,Friedrich!”
“Outch!”
“Didn’t I tell you? Working with a hammer obviously doesn’t approve with a piano player’s fingers! Just give the thing to me.”
Maria, standing on a ladder in her new kitchen, just painting the wall above the stove, smiled by listening to her men folk’s conversation in the room which was supposed to become the younger girl’s bedroom. Friedrich, Kurt und Georg were setting up shelves - and now it obviously was Georg who’d hit his thumb with the hammer. His “outch” was accompanied by the laughter of his sons and Kurt’s voice: “Hammers obviously don’t approve with riders either. Let me to it, dad. You keep the board, I fix it …”
Kurt had spoken English as he often did in the last weeks. He was the one child in the family who obviously mostly wanted to adapt to his surroundings while Brigitta was the one who kept firmest to “only being here for until the Nazis are gone”. Therefore she always spoke German at home and had even started to address Georg with “papa” - a typical German term and in no way to become mixed up with “Vater”, the German word sounding so alike to the English “father”.
Maria actually wondered how the Austrian patriot she was married to reacted to Kurt mostly speaking English. She’d expected him to tell him at least once that they were still Austrians, but Georg hadn’t said a word, but changed easily from talking German to English. Of course, when it came to languages Georg was a typical child of the former Danube monarchy. His father came from Vienna, but Georg’s mother had been from Hungarian country nobility. So he’d learned German and Hungarian at home and, being born and having grown up in Zadar, the port where his father, an Imperial navy officer too, was stationed, he’d learned Croatian from the servants. After his father’s death - Georg had just been four year old then - his mother had married again and moved to France with her new husband and her son. So Georg had spent the next ten years in Marseille, before he’d enrolled at the Austrian-Hungarian Naval Academy in Fiume. There he’d learned Italian and later he’d added Chinese - he’d served in China during the Boxer Rebellion, earning his first order there - and English while on training with his submarine at the Whitehead shipyard. Compared to him and his abilities with languages Maria sometimes really felt like a country pumpkin, still sometimes struggling a bit with English.
Now the shelf obviously was up and Geog was praising his second son. “At least we’ve got one practical genius in the family! Well done, Kurt - I’m impressed.”
As always Kurt showed modesty. “I’m not the only one in the family who can do such things. Mother and Louisa are rather good with tools too.”
“Your mother is actually good with almost everything,” Georg replied and made Friedrich laugh with it.
“What would we do without mother?” he quoted one of the family’s favourite sayings.
“Moving less furniture?” Kurt chuckled. “By talking about: Shall we get the girls’ beds up now?”
“And all the boxes they’ve packed!” Friedrich moaned. “Could someone please explain to me how they manage to collect so much stuff in only a few months?”
“Oh, that - it’s a special female thing!” Georg said.
“Girls are odd,” Kurt stated. “Dad - do you think a man can ever understand how a girl’s brain works?”
The sound of Georg’s deep, rumbling laughter made Maria smile. “I actually don’t believe so, son. However, trying it can be fun - just ask Friedrich about that.”
“What you’re talking about, father?” Friedrich tried very hard to sound innocent.
“Your sudden interest in horses, son!” Georg came into the kitchen, speaking over his shoulder. “As much as I appreciate Siglavy Novella, I can’t believe it was his charm you fell for.”
“Oh, but Sigi is a great horse!” Friedrich said.
“Of course he is - he’s educated by me!” Georg grinned, showing the dimples on his cheeks Maria loved so much. “Nevertheless I suppose it’s rather a certain chestnut filly on two legs, going by the name of Julie what makes you spent so much time in the stables.” He turned to Maria. “What do you think about us moving the girls’ beds now?”
“Good idea. Shall I help you?” Maria smiled down from the ladder. She liked renovating and moving in their new flat and she was happy about Georg being in such a good mood. It was almost as if he’d look forward to live on the new place too.
“Father?” Friedrich had followed Georg. “Uncle Alois was telling the other day that he’ll sell Sigi soon.”
“Yes, we have a customer who’s very interested in him and will pay handsomely,” Georg answered.
“Father?” Friedrich was chewing on his bottom lip. “Uncle Alois mentioned that you’d get a nice share of the money for Sigi because it was you who trained him.”
“Yes, Friedrich, I’ll get some of the money.” Georg looked around. “We haven’t got glasses here yet?”
“We have, but they’re in the closet,” Maria answered, pointing to the corner where the closet stood, protected from her paint under an old sheet which covered the table and the chairs in front of it too. “But there’s a cup in the sink.”
“Civilization, here you go!” Georg took the cup and poured some water in it. Drinking, he turned to Friedrich again. “We’ll need to spare some of the money for Liesl’s college, but I think the rest will be enough to buy two instruments.”
“Two?” Friedrich wondered.
“Yes, two - a used piano for you and a guitar for your mother. Besides I intend to buy a horse.”
Maria’s heart had made a little jump about the guitar. But now she looked puzzled. “A horse? One should think you’ve got already enough horses to work with, Georg.”
“I’ve got an interesting offer,” Georg explained. “A friend of Tipper Burrows has bought a four year old Irish hunter, a very talented jumper. Only he’s rather hot-tempered and so the lady can’t deal with him. He already threw her up three times, now she’s scared and wants to get rid off him. I could get him for little money. I think I’ll be able to train him up nicely - and he’s really a good horse. Properly educated he’ll be worth some money - and there are a lot of people out there, searching for good jumpers.”
“A jumper, Georg?” Maria thought of what Alois had told her about the black mare and how she’d thrown her husband down. “But jumping is dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Not when the horse is correctly trained,” Georg answered and patted Friedrich on his back. “Let’s move the girls’ stuff, shall we?”
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It was done, really and truly done. After a week in which Maria, Georg and the children had spent every free minute with renovating and moving, they were finally settled in their new flat. Of course, there were still boxes to unpack and drapes to be hung, but every member of the family had got a bed now, the kitchen was useable and after dinner they’d for the first time sat in their new living room, Georg, the boys and Louisa playing cards while Liesl und Maria had worked on Liesl’s new dress and the younger girls had enjoyed the dolls they’d got from the kind Mrs Miller. Around half nine Maria then had got the younger children to bed and Georg had come to say their prayers with them. Half one hour later, Friedrich, Louisa and Liesl had disappeared, Liesl announcing that she’d like to read for a while before sleeping.
Shortly afterwards Georg folded the newspaper he’d been reading. Yawning he announced: “It’s time for me too.”
“I come with you,” Maria put the dress aside and rose up.
“Would you want to go into the bathroom first?” Georg politely asked.
“No, thank you. I need to switch off the lights and to lock the door. Besides I’d like to look at the children - you know, Gretl’s always throwing her blanket away.” Maria smiled at him, feeling a bit timid. The last days they’d always been drained in the nights and fallen in bed like logs. Now was the first time they were both not too exhausted. Pulling the blanket Gretl indeed had thrown off over her youngest’s shoulder, Maria wondered - would Georg wait for her in bed? Or would he, as he’d done the nights before, already sleep? After all, yesterday he’d been awake as she’d come out of the bathroom. He’d just taken a clean shirt out of the blanket, hanging it over the chair so he wouldn’t have to search for it the next morning. Crawling in bed then, he’d turned to her. “It’s really amazing how much stuff we’ve already acquired. I feel as if I’d have moved an entire ware house!” Smiling he’d asked: “And how are you?”
“Groggy, but happy. It’s nice here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he’d simply replied and yawned. “Considered I’ll have to present a horse at seven tomorrow - you know, the man who wants to buy Siglavy Novella will come around - I should try to get some sleep.” Bending over her, he’d kissed her cheek. “Good night, Maria - sweet dreams!”
Perhaps this night she’d get even more as a kiss on the cheek? The thought made for Maria wrapping her arms around herself, feeling the familiar tingling in her breasts.
“I’m ready in the bathroom - you can go in!” Maria heard Georg announce.
“Thanks!” She’d already put her new night shirt in the bathroom before, now she was walking in, undressed and looked at the mirror. She needed a hair cut and she was a bit pale, she found. But she was sure, she’d blush when entering the bedroom in the lacy shirt. Opening the closet, she took her toothbrush out. On the shelf above it stood Georg’s shaving brush. Maria couldn’t help touching it, noticing it was dry and sighing. In Paris Georg had always shaved before going to bed.
Well, what had she expected? The little kiss the night before obviously hadn’t been “foreplay”. Maria started brushing her teeth, making a grimace by it. Just this morning in the bakery women from the neighbourhood had complained about men “only ever wanting the one thing”. As far as Georg was concerned, Maria certainly would never want to join this choir. Her former sea captain had obviously trained himself well in suppressing the needs of his body during the long months he’d been on his ship without a woman in sight. And during the four lonely years as a widower - during their engagement he’d confessed to her about a little affair he’d had in Vienna once. “Only afterwards I felt even worse - fooling around this way isn’t my cup of tea.”
At this time Maria had been glad to hear, but now she was wondering if a little less of self-discipline wouldn’t make it easier for her to approach him.
Entering the bedroom was like a déjà vu. Georg lay in bed on his back, his hands folded behind his head, looking at her, the expression of his face unreadable.
Maria smiled shyly at him, kneeled down at her bedside, said her prayer and climbed in on her side of the bed, reaching for the blanket.
Clearing his throat, Georg started to speak. “By the way, Maria: I’ll be away for three days next week. Tipper Burrows got a farm for her birthday and now she wants to start breeding lipizzans. So we’ll go to Vermont - there’s this Hungarian Count who breeds them. He’s got a few mares to sell.”
Maria kept quiet, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt as if she’d have got punched in the stomach. In the last weeks she’d tried not to think of the beautiful brunette who was - at least for Maria’s taste - much too familiar with her husband. Of course, Maria had known that Tipper Burrows came almost daily to the stables - Friedrich and Louisa were often enough talking about her. Just two days ago Brigitta had praised Georg a “miracle worker” for helping her with a difficult translation. Louisa had sniggered: “Our father, the miracle worker - one day he’ll even manage to teach Tipper Burrows to ride a proper traversale.”
Friedrich had chuckled. “I think he’d already praise the lord if she’d manage a counter canter for once.”
Georg had promptly scolded his children for bad mouthing a customer. “If I may remind you: Miss Burrows pays for your food.”
Maria breathed deeply. Trying to keep her voice calm, she asked: “When will you go?”
“At Tuesday,” Georg replied. “I hope we’ll be back on Thursday in the night. I wouldn’t like to let Alois alone for longer.”
“Well,” Maria still didn’t look at him, “Alois certainly will miss you most.” She couldn’t avoid sounding sarcastic.
“What do you mean with that?” There was the angry, cold edge in his voice again. “If I may remind you: I’m not doing this trip for fun, but for business.”
“Let’s hope Miss Burrows knows that too.” Maria became more and more furious. She certainly didn’t like the thought of the brunette having Georg all for herself for three days.
“She does!” Georg almost shouted. “Maria, this silly jealousy isn’t becoming you!”
“I don’t have a reason for it, do I?” Maria faced him now. “Except perhaps of Miss Burrows crush on you - or did I get this wrong? The way she’s ogling you, the way she uses every opportunity to touch you and to come close to you - I may be a bit naïve, Georg, but I’m not an idiot!” Now Maria was in full swing, her rage taking over. “Besides: I know you, my dear. I know how much you adore sophisticated, glamorous women like her.”
“Do I?” He raised his eyebrow, smiling coldly. “Certainly I’m all in sophisticated, glamorous women - that’s why I married you, Maria!”
“Instead of Baroness von Schraeder? I can’t help wondering if you’re not regretting it now.”
“What do you expect me to answer to that?” he gave back, his voice as icy as his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t regret marrying me?”
How was it possible that he could drive her so entirely and utterly mad with only a few lines? Maria felt once again like throttling him, like kicking and screaming and banging her fists against the next wall in helpless frustration and fury. She suddenly wanted to hurt him - hurt him as badly as he’d just hurt her and therefore she answered bitingly: “Honestly, in the last weeks I wondered about that myself.”
“You did?” He inhaled deeply. “Do you want to divorce, Maria?”
For a moment she felt like fainting. She’d known that her marriage was in trouble, but Georg thinking of a divorce was nevertheless a shock. He couldn’t really mean it, could he? They were joined in holy matrimony, they’d sworn “until death part us” to each other. Did his promise mean so little to him? She didn’t know how to answer, but heard herself whispering: “I’m still Catholic, Georg.”
“Oh, that’s a good reason to remain married to me!” he scoffed.
“Almost as good as not cheating on me because of your honour and dignity!” Maria shot back. “Living in a glass house one shouldn’t throw stones, Georg!”
“Another advice given to you by the wise Reverend Mother?” he asked sarcastic.
“Don’t you dare mocking the Reverend Mother!” Maria was really yelling now. “Oh, I really hate when you’re like that!”
“I know. You’ve told me before.” He pushed his pillow in shape and switched the lamp on his night stand off. “I’ll have to go up early tomorrow, Maria. Hence I’d really like to sleep now. Good night, Maria.” He turned around, pulling the blanket up.
Maria starred at his back. Did he really intend to sleep now? Could he, after such an ugly argument? She was sure she wouldn’t be able to - and she even didn’t want to sleep next to him now. Slipping out of the bed, she took her pillow and her blanket.
“What you’re up to, Maria?” he asked without turning around.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa!” she announced, fleeing the bedroom. Wrapping the blanket around her - the nightshirt she’d made with so much hope certainly wasn’t warm enough for a night like this - she walked in to the living room and sank down on the sofa. She wondered why she didn’t cry, but it seemed as if something in her was frozen. He’d asked her for a divorce! He’d more or less admitted that he regretted their marriage.
Perhaps he was in love with the brunette. Perhaps he was just now longing to be with her, to hold her in his arms, to whisper tender words in her ear, to make love to her.
No. Maria couldn’t think of it. She couldn’t bear the thought of Tipper Burrows wrapping her arms around Georg, of her enjoying what once had been hers. It only made for remembering how happy and content she’d once been with him. Their last picnic on the Untersberg as he’d played hide and seek with the children, always pulling her to his hiding places with him and kissing her - he’d even not minded as Marta had caught them in an embrace, announcing loudly to her siblings: “Fräulein Maria and father are smooching!” Instead he’d laughed, cheerful and openly, swept his daughter up and whirled her around, telling her: “Don’t be jealous. You’re still my most beloved Marta.” Later then, the same afternoon, he’d fallen asleep with his head in Maria’s lap and she’d looked down on him, tenderly playing with his hair, marvelling in how young and boyish his relaxed face looked in sleep. She’d dreamed of the baby then she wanted to have - a boy with his father’s dark hair, his energetic chin, the fine sculpted mouth and the blue eyes or a girl who’d inherit the dimples on the cheeks and her father’s elegance. And one day there would be grandchildren and Georg would play with them - he’d certainly look great even with white hair.
He didn’t love her anymore. He would never again smile tenderly at her, he would never again sleep with his head in her lap, and he would never make love to her again. There wouldn’t be a baby for her, not now, not in the future. Nevertheless she couldn’t leave him. There were still the children who’d become her children, too; the children who depended on her and had already once lost a mother. She loved them; she couldn’t imagine a life without them anymore. And weren’t the children what Georg really loved? In this love he obviously was persistent.
Oh, if only she could talk to someone about her troubles! What would she give for being only a few minutes in the quiet study of the Reverend Mother, what would she give to hear her calm voice now. The Reverend Mother would know what to do, she would help Maria to find her way - and she would probably tell her to look out for God’s will.
God’s will - for one thing Maria was sure: It had been the Lord who’d sent her to these children, to love them and to become a mother to them. And he wouldn’t want her to leave them. Therefore she would keep to them, even if Georg didn’t love her anymore.
To be continued
* “Schätzchen” - term of endearment in German, meaning something like “little darling”
Amor vincit omnia
Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Chapter 3: Moving on
New York, November 1938
Slinging her arms around herself, Maria walked through the aisle of the stable, carefully keeping away from the horses on her left and right. She’d always been afraid of horses. They were too big for her and they were having too much dangerous hoofs and teeth, didn’t they? However, her anxiety about the big beasts wasn’t the only reason why she rarely came to the riding school. Mostly she simply didn’t have time for the trip through half of the city, being always busy with the household and her work. And in the last two weeks - well, things between Georg and her were still not straightened out. They were hardly talking to each other. Since their argument he’d distanced himself from her, keeping her with cold politeness at arm’s length. She knew, she’d hurt him and she regretted it, but how to apologize to him when she couldn’t get him on his own? In one account he’d obviously taken her words to heart: He spent all his free time with the children again, he even accompanied them into church for their choir rehearsals and never missed to tell them how proud he was on their singing and accomplishments at school.
“Maria - how wonderful to see you!” Alois had discovered her. Coming out of his little office at the end of the aisle, he took her hand and bend over it for a formal kiss. “You look lovely!”
“Thank you, Alois. It’s nice to see you too,” Maria smiled back. Alois Hrditschlka had become a real friend and she always liked when he came to visit.
“Why do I think you didn’t come to see me?” Alois smiled. “Only your husband isn’t there in the moment. He’s hacking out with Tipper Burrows.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “Admittedly they should be back soon - if this little beast of hers hasn’t got Georg in trouble again.”
“How do you mean that?” Maria asked, suddenly feeling a knot in her stomach.
Alois took her arm and led her through the stable to the back yard where a bench stood next to the outdoor arena. “From here we can see them coming back. And it’s a nice day for November, isn’t it?” he said, offering Maria a place on the bench.
“The horse Georg is riding - what’s the problem with it?” Maria insisted.
“Oh, well …” Alois was sighing. “Didn’t he tell you how she threw him up two weeks before? I was just coming in to the hall as he was flying, banging against the wall. I thought he’d have broken every bone in his body. I’m sure he got at least two rips crashed. But you know how stubborn Georg is. Immediately afterwards he was in the saddle again, showing the beast how to behave. And the next morning the both of them were fighting out here again - I really thought this time she’d kill him! Well, now he’s got her, but still - I only trust her as far as I could throw her single-handed. It’s always the same here: People buy horses they can’t handle and then they expect us to deal with them, not minding that we risk our bones every time when mounting such a beast.”
Maria didn’t listen to his chatter anymore. She felt as if a cold hand would have gripped her heart and squeezed it. Two weeks ago - he’d winced as he’d bumped against the chair in the kitchen and he’d twitched as she’d embraced him. And hadn’t he been rather pale this night and the way Louisa had looked at him at breakfast the next morning as she’d asked him if he’d do the mare again ... how could she have overseen that he was in pain?
“He didn’t tell me,” she said quietly.
“Oh, he didn’t?” Alois whistled. “Then I’m in trouble - he’ll want my head for babbling about.” Alois rolled his eyes. “You know how he is, Maria - proud to no end. And probably he didn’t want you to worry about him. He always says you’ve got enough on your plate already.”
“I would probably worry less if he’d tell me more!” Maria answered heatedly, immediately biting her lip. She actually hadn’t wanted to say that. As good a friend as Alois was - she didn’t intend to talk about her problems with Georg to anyone.
Luckily Alois hadn’t understood that she hadn’t talked about the incident, but in general. “Maria,” he patted her hand, “you really mustn’t fret too much. Georg is a damn good rider. You know, they once wanted to keep him at the Spain Riding School back in Vienna? They offered him a place as a professional there - a big honour for someone who came as a private pupil. He’s really very talented and could certainly have become a master in the school. It’s actually quite a pity he liked the sea even more as the horses.”
“I think he was a good naval officer too,” Maria smiled, glad to be on safe ground again.
“Oh, certainly. One didn’t get knighted by the emperor if not for outstanding services. Your husband was a true hero, Maria.”
“Well, I believe he still is,” Maria replied seriously. “The way he got us out of Austria …” She shuddered by remembering how he’d faced the young Nazi in the Abbey. While she’d been almost dying with fear, he’d stood there in front of a gun, calmly trying to persuade the boy who directed the weapon at him to come with them, to leave the Nazis, to see the error of his way. And then on their way over the mountains as he’d encouraged and cheered up the children, carrying his youngest almost all the way - at this time she’d thought that nothing could ever come between and despite of the sadness about leaving their homeland, she’d been happy and looking forward to their future in America.
“Look, they’re coming!” Alois pointed with his chin to a path which led in the park.
At its end, showed by big, old trees, two horses and riders were approaching. Maria recognized the white stallion a woman was sitting on - it was one of Alois’ lipizzans. On the other horse, an elegant black mare, she saw Georg, ram road straight, but in the same time looking as relaxed as only a really good rider can. As the quartet came closer Maria could make out her husband’s face, his blue eyes accented by the blue jacket he was wearing, his skin tanned. The hair at his sleeves had greyed in the last months, but Maria found it made Georg look even more handsome and distinguished.
Watching him she felt almost overwhelmed by a wave of sadness. What had happened to them? She loved him, loved him even more as ever and only wished to come close to him again. Why couldn’t she? Why was it so difficult to talk to him, to apologize for how she’d hurt him and to tell him that she didn’t feel whole without him, that she needed him to complete her?
The young woman riding next to him was talking and Georg, listening to her while playing with his mare’s mane, laughed and twinkled at her. Maria swallowed - although the woman was a brunette, she reminded her of the baroness. There was the same kind of elegance and self-confidence, the same kind of perfectly groomed beauty and Maria looked down at herself. It had been a spontaneous idea of her to come to the stable and she hadn’t changed before, but was wearing a simply brown skirt and a beige linen shirt to firm, flat shoes and woollen stockings. And her hands - they’d become red and raw with all the washing and her nails were broken and her hair she hadn’t managed to wash in the morning because there hadn’t been any warm water once again.
It certainly hadn’t been a good idea to come into the stable like that. Georg would probably feel embarrassed by his wife looking like a kitchen maid. However, it was too late to disappear now. Alois had risen up and was waving. “Georg, look who’s here!”
“Maria!” He was wrinkling his forehead. “Anything wrong at home?”
“No, no, no - everything’s fine,” she answered quickly.
“Good.” He turned and looked at the young woman who was waiting for him, studying Maria curiously. “You excuse me for a moment, Maria? Alois, could you?” He dismounted the mare, giving his friend the reins and stepped over to the white stallion. Stroking his neck, he smiled up at Tipper Burrows. “That went well, didn’t it?”
“It always goes well when you’re looking after me, Georg!” The woman swung her leg over the stallion’s backside and glided down in Georg’s open arms, immediately turning and putting her hands on his shoulders. “And you’re so good with the mare! You know I really became afraid as she suddenly bolted, but you got her so quickly.”
“There was no reason for you to fear - Conversano Theokratia is too well-mannered for getting a lady in trouble,” Georg said, stepping away from the woman and clapping the stallion’s back.
“I wasn’t afraid about me, but about you, Georg!” the brunette gave back, coming close to him again.
The groom ran out of the stables, obviously sent by Alois who’d let the mare in. “Stall I take Conny, Mr von Trapp?”
“Yes, Jimmy - thank you. Only let me have a look at his right fore leg first. I think his hoof shoe is getting loose again.” Georg bent down to check on the stallion’s leg. “Hmm - he’ll need the farrier soon. “ Going up he once more clapped the stallion’s neck. “Good boy! Off you go.”
The woman at his side was now laying her hand on his arm. “What do you think about another excursion tomorrow? The weather’s still so nice …”
“I’m afraid my schedule is rather full tomorrow,” Georg answered, smiling his half-smile. “Besides your cutie needs real work tomorrow.”
“Well, then - when will you ride her? You know, I like watching.” The woman was nothing if not insisting.
“Around eleven, I think.” Georg looked at Maria. “But now let me introduce you ladies to each other. Maria, meet Tipper Burrows, one of my pupils. Tipper, that’s my wife Maria von Trapp.”
Maria forced a smile while Tipper Burrows once more scrutinized her from head to toe. “It’s so nice to get to know you at last!” she cried then. “May I call you Maria? Such a nice name and besides I feel as if I’d have known you for years with your daughter - and what a sweet girl your Louisa is and so alike to you - always talking about you. However, she didn’t tell me how young you’re looking - not at all like a mother of seven. Oh, am I talking too quickly? With Georg and Louisa speaking English so perfectly, I always forget that you’re not native speakers!”
Maria felt like throttling the woman. What had she thought? That Georg’s wife was a fat, stupid matron who after half one year in USA still didn’t understand English and that he therefore was up for becoming hunted by bored society girls? This one obviously had developed a heavy crush on him and didn’t mind in the least that he was married.
If necessary, Maria could become bitchy too - and now she found it necessary. “Our children are almost native English speakers,” she answered sweetly. “Their mother, Georg’s first wife, was British. So I’m the only one in the family with a heavy accent, but Georg says he thinks it quite cute, don’t you, Schätzchen?*” Possessively she put her hand on his arm, smiling up at him.
For a moment she saw amusement in his eyes and even a tiny smile. He was just up to say something, but the groom’s voice was breaking in. “Mr von Trapp, shall I get Sigi ready now?”
“Yes, please - and I need a lunge and the Vienna reins. I’ll lunge him first,” Georg answered. “Tipper, may I be excused? We’ll see us tomorrow.” He nodded at his pupil, took Maria’s arm and led her a few steps away. “I take it you didn’t come to defend my virtue,” he said, sounding once more rather cold and sarcastic.
“Would it be necessary, Georg?” In the moment Maria uttered the words she already regretted them. When had she become so jealous? She was sure it wouldn’t sit well with him and indeed - his eyes became icy now.
“Certainly not. I’ve still some honour and dignity left, thank you very much,” he replied bitingly.
Maria swallowed, once more cursing her outspokenness. When would she finally learn to keep her mouth closed? “I’m sorry, Georg,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to insult you.”
“I reckon so. Why did you come all the way out here, Maria?”
“I actually came to tell you that we can rent the flat I was talking about. The Millers are moving next week and their landlord would like to have us as his new tenants. He’s rather fond of children and says, ours are especially nice - so well-behaved and kind. And Mrs Miller said she’d let us some of her furniture for rather little money. She can’t take all of it with her and besides she wants something new and so we can get almost all of her kitchen and even her double bed she only bought two years before. She says it would be too expansive to move it.” Maria stopped, knowing that she was babbling. She’d been so happy and excited about the news, but now she felt like crying.
“Well, well, a flat over a cheese shop with some cheap, used furniture in it - isn’t that what we’ve always dreamed of?” Georg said, one eyebrow up again.
Maria fought the upcoming anger down. What had she expected? For her the flat over the cheese shop sounded really good, but Georg probably would never stop longing for the home he’d lost. “Shall we rent it, Georg? It really would be better as our place.”
“Of course we’ll rent it - it will give us at least some space to breathe.” The stable lad was now bringing out a grey stallion. Georg looked at it, sighed and turned to Maria again. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ll have work to do.” Bending he placed a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for coming out here.”
For one thing Maria could always be sure with her husband: His manners never failed him. Only she wasn’t sure if she really liked this one of his traits. Lately he’d mostly used politeness as a shield to keep her away from his thoughts and feelings.
He was now in the middle of the outdoor arena, checking the grey stallion’s saddle and talking quietly to him. Maria found herself almost envying the horse - when had Georg looked at her with so much tenderness at last?
Sighing she turned away. Standing there and watching him like a love sick teenager wouldn’t do her any good, but perhaps irritate him. But it hurt to leave like that and on her way back to the subway Maria felt sad, tired and drained. Once, only a few months ago, she’d been absolutely convinced that marrying was the right thing to do. He’d loved her, hadn’t he? And he’d said “forever” and promised her “until death parts us”. Now, not even an entire year later, it was his honour and dignity which kept him away from other women - only honour and dignity, not love anymore.
The baroness had been right about him. How had she commented Georg being in love with Maria? “He’ll get over it soon enough, I should think. Men do.” For some time Maria had wanted to believe that it had been jealousy and hurt pride what had made the baroness talking like that. But now she suddenly felt almost ashamed that she’d thought so badly about the baroness. Elsa von Schraeder had been fond on Georg and he’d given her reasons to believe that he returned her feelings. Yet he’d got over his affection for Elsa soon enough, hadn’t he? And now he’d obviously overcome his so called love for Maria too.
Why did it hurt so badly? Why did she feel as if her world would crumble around her and she would never laugh and sing again? She’d named him an ungrateful wretch, but now she wasn’t doing any better. Hadn’t he given her what she’d never even dared to dream off? She’d got seven wonderful children who were her pride and joy, who filled her heart with tenderness and love. And yes, in the moment it wasn’t easy to provide for them, but Maria had all her life been used on hard work. She’d grown up on a farm and her uncle had expected her to help as much as possible even as she’d still been a little girl. She’d milked cows, carried heavy buckets, cleaned out stables, helped in the kitchen and on the fields every day of her young life and slept in a very small chamber directly above the cows’ stable, directly under the roof. In winter it had been terribly cold there and Maria had often enough waked up with snow on her blanket while in summer her place had been overheated. She’d actually thought the cubicle in the Abbey with the hard, small coat an improvement and her room at the von Trapp villa utter luxury. She certainly wouldn’t have minded sleeping on a paillase - if only Georg would have been with her!
She missed him. Sometimes, when working on a dress, her thoughts wandered back to Paris, her body remembering how his hands had felt, how much pleasure she’d received from his kisses and touches and how entirely wonderful it had been to return the gentleness, to hear him moan and whisper her name in abandon. She still knew so very well how his skin tasted, she remembered how she’d felt a rush of pride and joy every time when he’d embraced her and she’d noticed the prove of his excitement against her. He’d wanted her very much, obviously even more as he’d expected himself. There had been this one night when they’d gone out dancing after they’d spent the afternoon in bed, making love. As Georg had pulled her close during a waltz, she’d observed that he was aroused and, smiling up at him, she’d asked: “Again, Georg?”
He’d almost blushed and looked rather awkward. “I can’t help it, Maria. You make me feel like a seventeen year old not in control of his hormones. It’s embarrassing on a man of my age, isn’t it?”
Maria had kissed his jaw. “I don’t think so,” she’d whispered. “I actually feel flattered.”
What had happened to make him forget about that? Of course, they’d hardly ever been alone with each other since their honeymoon, but wasn’t this separation supposed to make him long for her? It certainly worked on her, as she embarrassed as she sometimes felt about and it sometimes made her body ache. As she’d thrown herself in his arms two weeks before, she’d wanted nothing more as him taking her. She even wouldn’t have minded making love to him on the kitchen table if only she would have to get to feel him close again, moving deep within her.
Would something change between them when they moved in the new flat? They’d have a bedroom of their own there. They’d be alone their in the nights, able to talk, to kiss and …
Maria looked at her image, mirrored in the window of the subway. She’d lost a bit of weight during the last months. Her shoulders had become bony, but her breasts were still round and firm. In Paris Georg had loved them. He’d told her so, always giving them his special attention. And there was this nice piece of lace she’d found in the retail shop only a few days before. She’d actually intended to use it on the dress she was tailoring for Liesl’s final ball at school. However, for Liesl she could make a bow out of the flimsy piece she’d left over from the wedding robe she’d done. She would wrap it over one shoulder and fix at the backside - it would look lovely on Liesl, probably even better as the lace.
Yes, she’d use the lace for a new night shirt. She’d buy some of the pale blue batiste she’d seen in the shop the other day - now, in November, it certainly wouldn’t be too expansive. The lace over her breasts, the batiste underneath - it would look nice and it would be the right dress to wear for seducing one’s husband. As soon as they were settled in the new flat, she’d use it for showing him that she still loved and desired him. It would work, wouldn’t it? Behind the cold mask he’d put up in the last months, somewhere behind it - Maria was sure of it - was still her tender husband who needed love and tenderness as much as she did. And she would get him to show it to her again.
-------------------------
“Watch your fingers ,Friedrich!”
“Outch!”
“Didn’t I tell you? Working with a hammer obviously doesn’t approve with a piano player’s fingers! Just give the thing to me.”
Maria, standing on a ladder in her new kitchen, just painting the wall above the stove, smiled by listening to her men folk’s conversation in the room which was supposed to become the younger girl’s bedroom. Friedrich, Kurt und Georg were setting up shelves - and now it obviously was Georg who’d hit his thumb with the hammer. His “outch” was accompanied by the laughter of his sons and Kurt’s voice: “Hammers obviously don’t approve with riders either. Let me to it, dad. You keep the board, I fix it …”
Kurt had spoken English as he often did in the last weeks. He was the one child in the family who obviously mostly wanted to adapt to his surroundings while Brigitta was the one who kept firmest to “only being here for until the Nazis are gone”. Therefore she always spoke German at home and had even started to address Georg with “papa” - a typical German term and in no way to become mixed up with “Vater”, the German word sounding so alike to the English “father”.
Maria actually wondered how the Austrian patriot she was married to reacted to Kurt mostly speaking English. She’d expected him to tell him at least once that they were still Austrians, but Georg hadn’t said a word, but changed easily from talking German to English. Of course, when it came to languages Georg was a typical child of the former Danube monarchy. His father came from Vienna, but Georg’s mother had been from Hungarian country nobility. So he’d learned German and Hungarian at home and, being born and having grown up in Zadar, the port where his father, an Imperial navy officer too, was stationed, he’d learned Croatian from the servants. After his father’s death - Georg had just been four year old then - his mother had married again and moved to France with her new husband and her son. So Georg had spent the next ten years in Marseille, before he’d enrolled at the Austrian-Hungarian Naval Academy in Fiume. There he’d learned Italian and later he’d added Chinese - he’d served in China during the Boxer Rebellion, earning his first order there - and English while on training with his submarine at the Whitehead shipyard. Compared to him and his abilities with languages Maria sometimes really felt like a country pumpkin, still sometimes struggling a bit with English.
Now the shelf obviously was up and Geog was praising his second son. “At least we’ve got one practical genius in the family! Well done, Kurt - I’m impressed.”
As always Kurt showed modesty. “I’m not the only one in the family who can do such things. Mother and Louisa are rather good with tools too.”
“Your mother is actually good with almost everything,” Georg replied and made Friedrich laugh with it.
“What would we do without mother?” he quoted one of the family’s favourite sayings.
“Moving less furniture?” Kurt chuckled. “By talking about: Shall we get the girls’ beds up now?”
“And all the boxes they’ve packed!” Friedrich moaned. “Could someone please explain to me how they manage to collect so much stuff in only a few months?”
“Oh, that - it’s a special female thing!” Georg said.
“Girls are odd,” Kurt stated. “Dad - do you think a man can ever understand how a girl’s brain works?”
The sound of Georg’s deep, rumbling laughter made Maria smile. “I actually don’t believe so, son. However, trying it can be fun - just ask Friedrich about that.”
“What you’re talking about, father?” Friedrich tried very hard to sound innocent.
“Your sudden interest in horses, son!” Georg came into the kitchen, speaking over his shoulder. “As much as I appreciate Siglavy Novella, I can’t believe it was his charm you fell for.”
“Oh, but Sigi is a great horse!” Friedrich said.
“Of course he is - he’s educated by me!” Georg grinned, showing the dimples on his cheeks Maria loved so much. “Nevertheless I suppose it’s rather a certain chestnut filly on two legs, going by the name of Julie what makes you spent so much time in the stables.” He turned to Maria. “What do you think about us moving the girls’ beds now?”
“Good idea. Shall I help you?” Maria smiled down from the ladder. She liked renovating and moving in their new flat and she was happy about Georg being in such a good mood. It was almost as if he’d look forward to live on the new place too.
“Father?” Friedrich had followed Georg. “Uncle Alois was telling the other day that he’ll sell Sigi soon.”
“Yes, we have a customer who’s very interested in him and will pay handsomely,” Georg answered.
“Father?” Friedrich was chewing on his bottom lip. “Uncle Alois mentioned that you’d get a nice share of the money for Sigi because it was you who trained him.”
“Yes, Friedrich, I’ll get some of the money.” Georg looked around. “We haven’t got glasses here yet?”
“We have, but they’re in the closet,” Maria answered, pointing to the corner where the closet stood, protected from her paint under an old sheet which covered the table and the chairs in front of it too. “But there’s a cup in the sink.”
“Civilization, here you go!” Georg took the cup and poured some water in it. Drinking, he turned to Friedrich again. “We’ll need to spare some of the money for Liesl’s college, but I think the rest will be enough to buy two instruments.”
“Two?” Friedrich wondered.
“Yes, two - a used piano for you and a guitar for your mother. Besides I intend to buy a horse.”
Maria’s heart had made a little jump about the guitar. But now she looked puzzled. “A horse? One should think you’ve got already enough horses to work with, Georg.”
“I’ve got an interesting offer,” Georg explained. “A friend of Tipper Burrows has bought a four year old Irish hunter, a very talented jumper. Only he’s rather hot-tempered and so the lady can’t deal with him. He already threw her up three times, now she’s scared and wants to get rid off him. I could get him for little money. I think I’ll be able to train him up nicely - and he’s really a good horse. Properly educated he’ll be worth some money - and there are a lot of people out there, searching for good jumpers.”
“A jumper, Georg?” Maria thought of what Alois had told her about the black mare and how she’d thrown her husband down. “But jumping is dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Not when the horse is correctly trained,” Georg answered and patted Friedrich on his back. “Let’s move the girls’ stuff, shall we?”
----------------------------------------
It was done, really and truly done. After a week in which Maria, Georg and the children had spent every free minute with renovating and moving, they were finally settled in their new flat. Of course, there were still boxes to unpack and drapes to be hung, but every member of the family had got a bed now, the kitchen was useable and after dinner they’d for the first time sat in their new living room, Georg, the boys and Louisa playing cards while Liesl und Maria had worked on Liesl’s new dress and the younger girls had enjoyed the dolls they’d got from the kind Mrs Miller. Around half nine Maria then had got the younger children to bed and Georg had come to say their prayers with them. Half one hour later, Friedrich, Louisa and Liesl had disappeared, Liesl announcing that she’d like to read for a while before sleeping.
Shortly afterwards Georg folded the newspaper he’d been reading. Yawning he announced: “It’s time for me too.”
“I come with you,” Maria put the dress aside and rose up.
“Would you want to go into the bathroom first?” Georg politely asked.
“No, thank you. I need to switch off the lights and to lock the door. Besides I’d like to look at the children - you know, Gretl’s always throwing her blanket away.” Maria smiled at him, feeling a bit timid. The last days they’d always been drained in the nights and fallen in bed like logs. Now was the first time they were both not too exhausted. Pulling the blanket Gretl indeed had thrown off over her youngest’s shoulder, Maria wondered - would Georg wait for her in bed? Or would he, as he’d done the nights before, already sleep? After all, yesterday he’d been awake as she’d come out of the bathroom. He’d just taken a clean shirt out of the blanket, hanging it over the chair so he wouldn’t have to search for it the next morning. Crawling in bed then, he’d turned to her. “It’s really amazing how much stuff we’ve already acquired. I feel as if I’d have moved an entire ware house!” Smiling he’d asked: “And how are you?”
“Groggy, but happy. It’s nice here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he’d simply replied and yawned. “Considered I’ll have to present a horse at seven tomorrow - you know, the man who wants to buy Siglavy Novella will come around - I should try to get some sleep.” Bending over her, he’d kissed her cheek. “Good night, Maria - sweet dreams!”
Perhaps this night she’d get even more as a kiss on the cheek? The thought made for Maria wrapping her arms around herself, feeling the familiar tingling in her breasts.
“I’m ready in the bathroom - you can go in!” Maria heard Georg announce.
“Thanks!” She’d already put her new night shirt in the bathroom before, now she was walking in, undressed and looked at the mirror. She needed a hair cut and she was a bit pale, she found. But she was sure, she’d blush when entering the bedroom in the lacy shirt. Opening the closet, she took her toothbrush out. On the shelf above it stood Georg’s shaving brush. Maria couldn’t help touching it, noticing it was dry and sighing. In Paris Georg had always shaved before going to bed.
Well, what had she expected? The little kiss the night before obviously hadn’t been “foreplay”. Maria started brushing her teeth, making a grimace by it. Just this morning in the bakery women from the neighbourhood had complained about men “only ever wanting the one thing”. As far as Georg was concerned, Maria certainly would never want to join this choir. Her former sea captain had obviously trained himself well in suppressing the needs of his body during the long months he’d been on his ship without a woman in sight. And during the four lonely years as a widower - during their engagement he’d confessed to her about a little affair he’d had in Vienna once. “Only afterwards I felt even worse - fooling around this way isn’t my cup of tea.”
At this time Maria had been glad to hear, but now she was wondering if a little less of self-discipline wouldn’t make it easier for her to approach him.
Entering the bedroom was like a déjà vu. Georg lay in bed on his back, his hands folded behind his head, looking at her, the expression of his face unreadable.
Maria smiled shyly at him, kneeled down at her bedside, said her prayer and climbed in on her side of the bed, reaching for the blanket.
Clearing his throat, Georg started to speak. “By the way, Maria: I’ll be away for three days next week. Tipper Burrows got a farm for her birthday and now she wants to start breeding lipizzans. So we’ll go to Vermont - there’s this Hungarian Count who breeds them. He’s got a few mares to sell.”
Maria kept quiet, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt as if she’d have got punched in the stomach. In the last weeks she’d tried not to think of the beautiful brunette who was - at least for Maria’s taste - much too familiar with her husband. Of course, Maria had known that Tipper Burrows came almost daily to the stables - Friedrich and Louisa were often enough talking about her. Just two days ago Brigitta had praised Georg a “miracle worker” for helping her with a difficult translation. Louisa had sniggered: “Our father, the miracle worker - one day he’ll even manage to teach Tipper Burrows to ride a proper traversale.”
Friedrich had chuckled. “I think he’d already praise the lord if she’d manage a counter canter for once.”
Georg had promptly scolded his children for bad mouthing a customer. “If I may remind you: Miss Burrows pays for your food.”
Maria breathed deeply. Trying to keep her voice calm, she asked: “When will you go?”
“At Tuesday,” Georg replied. “I hope we’ll be back on Thursday in the night. I wouldn’t like to let Alois alone for longer.”
“Well,” Maria still didn’t look at him, “Alois certainly will miss you most.” She couldn’t avoid sounding sarcastic.
“What do you mean with that?” There was the angry, cold edge in his voice again. “If I may remind you: I’m not doing this trip for fun, but for business.”
“Let’s hope Miss Burrows knows that too.” Maria became more and more furious. She certainly didn’t like the thought of the brunette having Georg all for herself for three days.
“She does!” Georg almost shouted. “Maria, this silly jealousy isn’t becoming you!”
“I don’t have a reason for it, do I?” Maria faced him now. “Except perhaps of Miss Burrows crush on you - or did I get this wrong? The way she’s ogling you, the way she uses every opportunity to touch you and to come close to you - I may be a bit naïve, Georg, but I’m not an idiot!” Now Maria was in full swing, her rage taking over. “Besides: I know you, my dear. I know how much you adore sophisticated, glamorous women like her.”
“Do I?” He raised his eyebrow, smiling coldly. “Certainly I’m all in sophisticated, glamorous women - that’s why I married you, Maria!”
“Instead of Baroness von Schraeder? I can’t help wondering if you’re not regretting it now.”
“What do you expect me to answer to that?” he gave back, his voice as icy as his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t regret marrying me?”
How was it possible that he could drive her so entirely and utterly mad with only a few lines? Maria felt once again like throttling him, like kicking and screaming and banging her fists against the next wall in helpless frustration and fury. She suddenly wanted to hurt him - hurt him as badly as he’d just hurt her and therefore she answered bitingly: “Honestly, in the last weeks I wondered about that myself.”
“You did?” He inhaled deeply. “Do you want to divorce, Maria?”
For a moment she felt like fainting. She’d known that her marriage was in trouble, but Georg thinking of a divorce was nevertheless a shock. He couldn’t really mean it, could he? They were joined in holy matrimony, they’d sworn “until death part us” to each other. Did his promise mean so little to him? She didn’t know how to answer, but heard herself whispering: “I’m still Catholic, Georg.”
“Oh, that’s a good reason to remain married to me!” he scoffed.
“Almost as good as not cheating on me because of your honour and dignity!” Maria shot back. “Living in a glass house one shouldn’t throw stones, Georg!”
“Another advice given to you by the wise Reverend Mother?” he asked sarcastic.
“Don’t you dare mocking the Reverend Mother!” Maria was really yelling now. “Oh, I really hate when you’re like that!”
“I know. You’ve told me before.” He pushed his pillow in shape and switched the lamp on his night stand off. “I’ll have to go up early tomorrow, Maria. Hence I’d really like to sleep now. Good night, Maria.” He turned around, pulling the blanket up.
Maria starred at his back. Did he really intend to sleep now? Could he, after such an ugly argument? She was sure she wouldn’t be able to - and she even didn’t want to sleep next to him now. Slipping out of the bed, she took her pillow and her blanket.
“What you’re up to, Maria?” he asked without turning around.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa!” she announced, fleeing the bedroom. Wrapping the blanket around her - the nightshirt she’d made with so much hope certainly wasn’t warm enough for a night like this - she walked in to the living room and sank down on the sofa. She wondered why she didn’t cry, but it seemed as if something in her was frozen. He’d asked her for a divorce! He’d more or less admitted that he regretted their marriage.
Perhaps he was in love with the brunette. Perhaps he was just now longing to be with her, to hold her in his arms, to whisper tender words in her ear, to make love to her.
No. Maria couldn’t think of it. She couldn’t bear the thought of Tipper Burrows wrapping her arms around Georg, of her enjoying what once had been hers. It only made for remembering how happy and content she’d once been with him. Their last picnic on the Untersberg as he’d played hide and seek with the children, always pulling her to his hiding places with him and kissing her - he’d even not minded as Marta had caught them in an embrace, announcing loudly to her siblings: “Fräulein Maria and father are smooching!” Instead he’d laughed, cheerful and openly, swept his daughter up and whirled her around, telling her: “Don’t be jealous. You’re still my most beloved Marta.” Later then, the same afternoon, he’d fallen asleep with his head in Maria’s lap and she’d looked down on him, tenderly playing with his hair, marvelling in how young and boyish his relaxed face looked in sleep. She’d dreamed of the baby then she wanted to have - a boy with his father’s dark hair, his energetic chin, the fine sculpted mouth and the blue eyes or a girl who’d inherit the dimples on the cheeks and her father’s elegance. And one day there would be grandchildren and Georg would play with them - he’d certainly look great even with white hair.
He didn’t love her anymore. He would never again smile tenderly at her, he would never again sleep with his head in her lap, and he would never make love to her again. There wouldn’t be a baby for her, not now, not in the future. Nevertheless she couldn’t leave him. There were still the children who’d become her children, too; the children who depended on her and had already once lost a mother. She loved them; she couldn’t imagine a life without them anymore. And weren’t the children what Georg really loved? In this love he obviously was persistent.
Oh, if only she could talk to someone about her troubles! What would she give for being only a few minutes in the quiet study of the Reverend Mother, what would she give to hear her calm voice now. The Reverend Mother would know what to do, she would help Maria to find her way - and she would probably tell her to look out for God’s will.
God’s will - for one thing Maria was sure: It had been the Lord who’d sent her to these children, to love them and to become a mother to them. And he wouldn’t want her to leave them. Therefore she would keep to them, even if Georg didn’t love her anymore.
To be continued
* “Schätzchen” - term of endearment in German, meaning something like “little darling”