The Perfect Gift

one shot: The Perfect Gift

It was her favorite time of year. The snow blanketed the earth with a crisp white sheet of sugar. It was cloudy, yet bright. Animals were all nestled for their long winter naps, with the exception of the birds of course. The birds were always out, chirping and twiddling, gathering more and more twigs and twine for their nests to protect  from the cold. It was perfect, of course she would say the same for every other time of the year too.

But this winter was different. This was the kind of winter she had imagined as a child. Gone were the walls of darkness. Gone was the harsh clacking of stone and the dimness of candles. Now instead a sheet of glass shone on the lake, the trees were flocked, the snow crunched, the air was crisp and the snow on top of the Alps didn't look as isolated as it did in the summer. And that was just outside.

She was crazy, she knew, but she simply couldn't help herself. She caught one glance of the day from the dining room and as soon as breakfast was over and cleaned up, she rushed outside and in turn neglected to grab her coat.

"It looks like you forgot something my dear." Maria immediately dropped her arms that were so neatly crossed in front of her chest before smiling. She knew that voice anywhere.

"Oh of course." She rolled her eyes at her friend, "How silly of me." She took the coat that he had so graciously given to her for her birthday back in the fall, and draped it over her shoulders.

"Now, tell me, why on earth would you want to be outside on a bitter day like this?" He asked Maria.

"Well, unlike you Max, some people appreciate nature." Maria quipped.

"You wound me Fraulein." Max brought his hands to his chest. Maria smirked and took a deep breath. 

"There's just nothing like the winter. It's crisp, sharp and so clean." Maria explained.

"Only you." Max mumbled, "Now tell me this then, what is your favorite thing about the holidays?" Max asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Now that was something Maria didn't think about. Holidays were for families, friends and lovers. None of which she had. Well, Max was a friend she supposed, as were all the Von Trapps. But the issue was they were all a family. The thought of intruding even more than she already had was gut wrenching.  First she stayed more time since the exit of the Baroness and now it was Christmas and she felt in the way of everything.

"Oh Max, you really know how to tell it how it is don't you?" Maria looked at her friend. Max had moved to Salzburg, he said the music and art were more down to earth, unique and therefore more profitable. He had a flat in town, but practically lived at the villa. On top of that the children were now gone at school and Georg was busy with work, which left Maria feeling plagued with loneliness throughout the day. Max would come by, she would have lunch with him and Georg and then an hour of simply enjoying their company until Georg ultimately had to leave to go to town or retreat to the study. Max had taken the opportunity to get to know the governess fairly well. They both shared about their less than ideal childhoods. Then she would reveal secrets about the nuns and he would share stories of his time in the navy with Georg.

"I sense these things, just as I sensed when you were sneaking off to get the last streutl the other day. Just as I sensed something was off-"

"Max stop." Maria's tone bit. "I already told you, I feel awkward enough. I don't need you inviting that discomfort back. It's in the past."

That was the other thing. Max was the only one who knew the truth of the night of the party. He knew what Elsa had said, and knowing Elsa well, he knew why she had said it. Maria had developed a wall after the party. No longer so trusting. The only other person she seemed to have any sort of real trust with was Georg, but even then he would watch her from afar. She would hold herself back. She spent more time with him than she realized. Many nights were spent in his study simply talking. Max would be on his way out and hear them laugh, or talk in quiet, hushed tones, but when he peeked they were always sat primly apart. One on one side of the desk, one on the other.