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
