A Christmas Family Miracle. Rebecca Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ Raoul’s thoughts reeled. Since there were things he couldn’t discuss with his nephew until after he’d talked with Crystal, he pretended to misunderstand. “I’ve got a room at the Hotel Des Alpes down the road from your grandpa’s store. If your mother says it’s all right, you can sleep with me tonight.”

      “Goody! I always wanted to stay there. It has real sleigh bells inside. Sometimes Mommy lets me go inside to shake them.”

      He smiled because everything about Philippe was so endearing. “You like sleigh bells?”

      “Yup. They’re like the ones in Grandpa’s storeroom. Remember when you took me and Albert for a sleigh ride?”

      It surprised him Philippe remembered so much. Twelve months had passed since they’d left France, yet that memory had stood out. Was Crystal aware of her son’s deepest feelings? Or was she still in too much pain over losing Eric to feel anything these days?

      Raoul had gone through the grieving period after Suzanne was killed, but he’d got past it. If they’d had a child together already, it might have taken longer if you saw the face of the person you’d loved every time you looked at your own child. But that hadn’t been the case.

      “Tell me about school. What’s your teacher’s name?”

      “Ms. Crabtree.”

      “Do you like your teacher?”

      “She’s all right, but she can’t speak French. Nobody speaks French here.”

      He spoke in a voice that said he was bored with the idiocy of people, reminding Raoul of Eric when his brother brushed aside something he found irritating during a conversation. Raoul didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Being with Philippe made the memories fly fast and furiously.

      “Your mommy speaks French.” When there was no comment he said, “Have you got a best friend yet?”

      “Nope. Albert’s my best friend.” Albert was Philippe’s seven-year-old cousin.

      “How come you haven’t made one here?”

      “I just haven’t.” A sigh escaped.

      That was no answer. There was a lot wrong with Philippe. “You have me.”

      “But you live in Chamonix and Mommy won’t take me home.” His nephew’s tears weren’t far away.

      “Have you asked her?”

      “Yes. But she always cries when I do. My nana told me Mommy’s going to take me back when I’m older, but I want to go now. I wish I could live with you.”

      Raoul’s eyes smarted. When he’d driven up here from Denver, he’d imagined he’d find an Americanized boy who’d forgotten his French and Raoul. He had to clear his throat. “Then your mother would feel bad.”

      “I don’t care.”

      “That’s not true,” he said gently.

      “She’s mean.”

      “I don’t believe it.”

      “But she is. When I ask her if I can call you up, she says we have to wait till you call first because you’re too busy.”

      Raoul bit down hard. “I’ll have a talk with her about that.” It was his fault. By trying to distance himself from Crystal, he’d gone too far. But that was because of his unbrotherly feelings for her that he’d been trying to fight—without success.

      “She’ll get mad I told you.”

      “Does she really get mad?”

      After a pause Philippe said, “No, but she doesn’t smile.”

      Once long ago Crystal’s beautiful smile had been her trademark. “We like our mothers to smile, don’t we?” No matter how much pain everyone is in.

      Through the mirror he saw Philippe nod.

      When Raoul had watched her jet take off for Colorado, he’d felt like a dark shield had dropped over him. He hadn’t been able to imagine himself smiling again. “Who do you play with at school?”

      “Nobody.”

      His heart lurched. “Tell me the truth now.”

      Philippe’s little chin jutted out. “I am.”

      “What do you think is the problem?”

      “I heard a couple of the boys talking at recess. They said I’m a geek and have a stupid name.”

      Just now Philippe sounded like the brother who’d grown up with Raoul. When Eric got upset, he became obstinate and defensive. It took a lot to pull him out of it. “I bet your teacher is impressed you speak two languages. Those boys are just jealous.”

      “What does ‘jealous’ mean?”

      “They wish they could be as smart as you. But since they only speak English, they’re mad and say mean things.”

      “Oh.”

      By the time they reached the mountain home made of wood and glass, Raoul realized his nephew had been living in pain. Unfortunately, the news Raoul had brought meant there was more ahead.

      He stepped out of the car into a serious snowstorm and opened the back door for Philippe. “Come on. Let’s get you in the house.” He picked up his nephew and gave him another hug before carrying him up the front steps. On the way he saw Christmas lights twinkling in the window.

      Crystal had opened the door for them. The scent of pine wafted past him. Her mother, Liz, flew across the foyer to greet him with a strong hug. On dozens of occasions when Crystal’s parents had come to Chamonix, he’d had the opportunity to spend time with the charming blond woman.

      She invited him into the den, which was lined with family pictures, many of them showing Crystal winning ski races with her face rosy and glowing. Several showed her and Eric together, their arms around each other.

      This was the first time Raoul had been to Breckenridge, let alone to Crystal’s family home. Though Chamonix and Breckenridge were an ocean apart, being here made him realize how similar their two families’ upbringings had been.

      The room had been decked out for Christmas. Their tree with its many colored lights stood in front of the picture window just like the one at his parents’ home, except the decorations were different.

      A few days ago he and his brother-in-law, Bernard, who ran an engineering firm for a petroleum business in Chamonix, had set up a Christmas tree for Raoul’s mother in the salon. They’d strung it with the traditional white lights. Vivige had organized their children to put on the ornaments. When Christmas Eve came, the wax candles in the tree’s candle holders would be lighted after they returned from Mass.

      That is, if there was going to be a Christmas Eve this year not marred by more tragedy.

      He removed his coat. “You have a beautiful home, Liz,” he said at last, gravitating СКАЧАТЬ