Snowbound with Her Hero

Within a few minutes they’d wound their way out of the airport. She checked her watch. Barring unforeseen circumstances they’d be in Chamonix by noon. The long fifteen-hour flight was finally over.

Philippe had been restless for part of it, but between her and Raoul, they’d kept him occupied while they took turns napping. Philippe ought to have been exhausted by now, but he showed no signs of it yet.

She turned her head around. “Are you hungry, honey?”

“Yes. Can we get some chicken nuggets?”

“I’m afraid they don’t have them here.”

“Actually they do,” Raoul informed them, darting her an amused glance. “There’ve been a few changes while you’ve been away.”

She lifted her brows. “Even the Swiss caved for fast food. That’s really saying something.”

Her response brought a smile to his lips that melted her insides. “I’m glad they did. I come down here often enough to meet with the heads of groups who want to arrange a special climb and I’m usually in a hurry. It saves time to be able to pick up a snack en route without getting out of the car.”

Before long they’d all eaten and were on their way again. During the drive Raoul phoned his mother to let her know they would be there shortly. From what Crystal could gather, his father was no better, but no worse, thank heaven.

After he hung up he spoke sotto voce. “I’ll take you to the house first so you can freshen up.”

The “house” hardly described the Broussard family home. It was a marvelous old brown-and-white three-story chalet located in Les Pecles, a few minutes from the town center of Chamonix. The first Broussard, a famous alpinist, built it 220 years earlier in the haut-savoyard style. The mountaineering tradition had carried down through the years, making their name a household word for Alpine adventure throughout the French Alps.

Due to its location on the Swiss and Italian border, there was an international flavor that made the town cosmopolitan and brought visitors from all over the world. No matter the season, Crystal thought it the most beautiful place on earth. Seeing it again with all the streets and shops decked out for Christmas brought memories, both good and bad. Hearing the ecstatic sounds coming from Philippe she knew he was in heaven to be back.

“I see the peak!” he called out excitedly.

They’d approached the snow covered Chamonix valley from the north, dominated by Mont Blanc, but he was referring to the Aiguille du Midi. Raoul had taken her and Philippe up on it in the cable car. After that experience it had been the landmark for her son among a world of mountains and peaks on both sides of the town of 15,000 sprawled through the valley.

“Do you remember what it’s called, honey?”

“No, but Uncle Raoul said the sun sits on it. See?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Raoul smile. “You have a good memory, Philippe.”

Crystal turned her head abruptly to look out the passenger window. Once Philippe had been born, many of her memories had to do with Raoul being with them rather than Eric. After Suzanne died, Crystal and Philippe had spent a lot of time with him and his family while they all mourned.

Eric gave his love and support when he could, but he had to train through all the seasons and was gone a great deal. Crystal felt he was away too much and reminded him they had a son who was missing him terribly.

A year before he’d died, she’d begged for them to live part of the year in Breckenridge, where they could both train and he’d find more time to be with their son away from his family. There hadn’t been too much togetherness. She didn’t tell him Philippe went to Raoul for everything. That would only upset him, but the situation couldn’t go on.

To her chagrin Eric didn’t like the idea of actually living away for even part of a year. He’d told her they would buy a house. In other words, he hoped a new project would keep her busy. It didn’t occur to him she might like to start up racing again.

She told him a house wouldn’t be a substitute for a full-time father. Over the months that followed, she realized he was too entrenched with his lifestyle and friends, too comfortable with the way things were, to want to leave. They didn’t have a marriage anymore.

Eric had been surrounded by a loving support group from the time he was born. Crystal had joined it by becoming his wife, but there was one little body who had needed his attention more of the time now. A day or two here and there between races that took him to other parts of Europe and the States for longer periods wasn’t enough for Philippe.

The more she’d brought it up to her husband, the more irritated he became until they had nothing between them. Having been a top athlete herself, he thought she understood the demands on him. She did understand, at the time. But priorities changed once a child came into the world.

The day he’d left for Cortina, she’d reminded him of that fact and told him she was going back to Breckenridge with Philippe to stay for a few months until he realized what he was missing and come for them.

He’d remained mute. After giving Philippe a hug and a kiss, he’d walked past her and slammed the door on his way out of their condo. He’d never done that before. That was the last time she’d seen him alive.

“There’s Grand-mère!”

Philippe’s cry brought Crystal out of her torturous thoughts. The second Raoul stopped the car, her son opened the rear door and ran up the few steps into her arms. They hugged for a long time.

Crystal’s sixty-three-year-old mother-in-law, Arlette, was lean and athletic like her children, possessing endless energy. She and Jules were very alike, always busy, always cordial and always welcoming company into their home.

From a distance, everything about her appeared to look the same. That was until Crystal got out before Raoul could help her and hurried toward his mother, noticing new worry lines on her attractive features. Since the last time she’d seen her, there was a touch more gray in the dark hair she wore short. It gave her an added sophistication.

Arlette clapped her hands on Crystal’s cheeks. “Mon Dieu, you’ve come and brought Philippe. Jules will be overjoyed. We’ve missed you both so much.”

Crystal hugged her hard, thinking Arlette was a little thinner. Because she was shorter than Crystal’s five-foot-seven frame, she seemed even smaller to her this time. “We’ve missed you, too,” she whispered. “I can’t bear it that Jules is so ill.”

“Neither can I.” The older woman wiped her eyes. “Now that you’ve come, I know he’ll start to feel better.”

“I pray that’s true.” As she looked around, she realized Philippe had gone inside the house with Raoul. Arlette hooked her arm through Crystal’s and drew her past the door. Once it was closed, they went up the stairs to the first floor. The place had been transformed into a Christmas fairyland.

“It’s beautiful, Arlette.”

“We can thank Raoul. He got Bernard to help him set up everything for me.”

What would their family do without Raoul? He carried the emotional weight and still managed to do his own work and everyone else’s. Crystal marveled at his capacity.

Philippe ran over to the tree. “There’s Père Noël!” He remembered.

“Don’t touch it, honey. Those wooden ornaments are very precious.”

“He can touch whatever he wants,” Arlette countered, like the loving grandmother she was. “Go ahead, Philippe. Take it off the branch. It’s yours to keep.”

“Goody!”

“You can have a piece of marzipan in that candy dish, too.”

“Mmm.” He stuffed one in his mouth while he ran over to inspect the fabulous hand-painted grandfather clock that had just struck the half hour. Philippe had always loved to stand in front of it and wait to hear the chimes. Little Hansel and Gretel figures came out, fascinating him.

“I’ve put your suitcases in the upstairs bedroom,” Raoul informed Crystal. He’d just walked into the room still wearing his bomber jacket. She took one look at him and felt her heart turn over and over. It had been doing that since the moment she’d heard his voice at her father’s store, almost as if it had a life of its own.

“Thank you.”

“Hey—here’s my daddy!” Philippe cried out with his mouth still full of candy. With the small, red-painted wooden figure of a solemn Father Christmas clutched in one hand, her son used his other hand to pick up a small framed picture of his father in his ski outfit. Arlette had placed it on the long credenza with many other family pictures. Everyone in the family was represented.

He picked up another picture and showed it to Raoul. “This is Tante Suzanne, huh?”

Crystal squeezed her eyes closed for a second. This was the hard part.

“Yes.”

“She died, huh.”

“That’s right.”

“Was she skiing like Daddy?”

“No. It was spring and she died in an aerial tram accident.”

Suzanne had gone hiking with some people from the office where she’d worked. They’d taken an aerial tram so they could start their hike way up in the mountains. But it had been hit by gale force winds and fell, killing her. Crystal winced to think about the bare bones details again.

“Oh,” Philippe said in a quiet voice. “Do you still cry?”

“Not anymore, but I’ll never forget her.”

Philippe let out a big sigh and wandered over to his uncle, putting an arm around him. “I don’t cry as much, either.” Oh, Philippe. “Mommy says Daddy’s in heaven. Do you think Suzanne’s in heaven, too?”

“Yes.”

The scene was too much for Arlette, whose eyes had filled. With a husband lying ill, she didn’t need more of this conversation.

“Come on, honey.” Crystal took hold of his hand. “We need to go upstairs and freshen up. Then we’ll go over to the hospital to see your grandfather.”

Philippe pulled back and looked up at her in alarm. “How come he’s in there?”

“Remember your uncle told you he was sick?”

“Yes,” he said in a tentative voice.

“Well, the hospital is the best place for him to get better.”

“Does he know I’m coming?” he asked as Crystal walked up the stairs to the next floor with him.

“I don’t think so. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“I like surprises.”

“He will too when he sees you walk in his room.”

Crystal didn’t need to ask where Arlette had put them. Raoul had already told them. Since Philippe’s birth, Eric’s old room had a double and a twin bed. On the dresser someone had put up a little Christmas tree with lights. More of Raoul’s doing? Along with the décor there were some games and dozens of his father’s mementos and trophies for Philippe to enjoy.

Photos of Eric at different ages lined one wall. Another one held pictures of baby Philippe’s christening at St. Michel church, plus more pictures of the three of them. Eric and his son looked almost identical at the age Philippe was now. Her boy was delighted by everything.

She thought she might not be able to handle this painful trip down memory lane, but it turned out she was wrong. If anything, she looked at the smiling couple and their baby with the perspective of time on her side.

The birth of Philippe and the few weeks after when Eric had spent more time at home to be with her and the baby had been the last period of happiness in their marriage. Once the weighty responsibility of parenthood had descended, she’d thrown herself into it with the kind of joy she couldn’t have imagined before becoming a mother. But in so doing, she’d caused an unwitting division between her and Eric that had only grown wider and unbridgeable with time.

Today she could admit the truth to herself. If he hadn’t died, she knew deep inside she would have ended up in Breckenridge and a divorce would have followed. What was the old adage? Dignity in death, disgrace in divorce? It was an awful saying. In both cases there was loss. Period.

Raoul went inside the hospital room ahead of the others. He saw a new addition to all the flowers since he’d last been in here. A beautiful Christmas red poinsettia had been delivered. The get-well card was from Crystal’s parents. Jules would be touched.

His thoughts flew to Philippe. He knew it would frighten him to see his graying grandfather on oxygen with an IV in his arm. In the last few weeks he’d lost ten pounds with the flu. His gaunt appearance made him look closer to seventy than sixty-five.

The doctor couldn’t account for Jules getting so ill at his age, but they both agreed the two deaths in the family had probably been too much for him. Despite all his hard work, he was a family man through and through and lived for his children. Eric’s death had robbed him of his joie de vivre. If anyone could bring it back, it would be Philippe, who had certain mannerisms and features inherited from his father.

“Papa?”

“Ah, Raoul. You’ve been gone so long.” He grasped his hand and wept.

It killed him to see his father like this. “I’ve brought someone with me. Are you up for company?”

His eyelids fluttered open to half mast. “Bien sûr,” he murmured in a voice half as strong as normal.

“I’ll be right back.”

He hurried over to the door and opened it. Three worried pairs of eyes fastened on him. “How is he?” his mother asked.

“He’s awake.”

“Can I see him?” Philippe whispered.

“What do you think?” He reached for his nephew’s hand and they walked over to the left side of the bed. Crystal and his mother followed and stood on the right. Raoul was surprised Philippe didn’t flinch at all the tubes.

“Hi, Grand-père. It’s me.”

Again his father’s eyelids opened, alert to a new voice in the room. “Me, who?”

Philippe giggled. “You know who I am.” In case Jules couldn’t see him well, Raoul lifted him in his arms.

His father’s gray-blue eyes swerved to his grandson before glazing over with tears. “Ah … my boy, my boy. Come closer and give your grand-père

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