Snowdrops

.:.

"Hello, Lucy."

"Hello," I squeaked, feeling woefully unsure of myself as I stared up at him. "Anton... I am so sorry. I am mortified... Jesus, I feel like such an idiot. Thank you for getting me home safely. Was... was last night bad?"

He grinned down at me. "I have seen worse."

"What... what did I do? I have a big blank part of the night that I can not remember."

"Giselle and I think you had a reaction from the codeine and the alcohol. It can happen. You were in the Märchenwald dancing with the fairies."

"Oh... oh God."

"It could have been extremely dangerous. Lucky for you it seemed to just make you... very happy."

"How... happy?"

"You were laughing and dancing and..."

"And... what?"

"Very friendly," he said, with a gentle smile.

"Oh God..."

"It is ok, we see far worse from other English here."

I hid my face in my hand, and wondered if it was possible to die of shame. "Oh my God..."

"Lucy, it is fine. Selva is a Touristenstadt. We see it often. Usually it's groups of young girls, or men - not soloists like you. It is nice to have a change, yes?"

"Anton, you are not helping," I protested. I could feel my cheeks flaming red.

He laughed and relented.

"How are you feeling today? Better? Your shoulder?"

"Less sore. Still aching but I feel like I have more motion today."

"Good."

"Anton... did I... was I..."

"Yes?"

"Was I inappropriate with... anyone? I am almost certain that I was. It happens when... when I go too far. Oh. Oh no no no. Oh fuck no. Please tell me... I didn't try to take my shirt off and flash anyone... did I?"

"Nein, nein," he chuckled. "Nothing like that. Or if you did, I did not see it, and Giselle did not say anything like that."

"Oh. Thank fuck. That's a huge relief." I stared up at him, and almost forgot for a moment what I wanted to say to him. "Well. I just wanted to thank you for saving me again. I'm sorry I was such an idiot. I'll... I'll try to be better from now on. Hopefully that's the last you'll have to see of me. Anyway," I added, truly flustered now and muddling my words, "Bye you. Thank!"

He caught my hand as I turned to leave; he held it gently in his and wouldn't let me pull away.

"Lucy," he said. "You need to be gentler with yourself."

I tried to ignore the sudden ache in my chest. I tried to make my response light so I could extricate myself.

"What do you..."

"Part of you is broken. That is glass-clear. But you do not need to make excuses for yourself. And you do not need to apologise to me for this or anything else. You do not need to feel ashamed of yesterday. Everyone can have a lapse of judgement. Everyone can make a mistake. Especially when you are carrying... such a heavy weight."

"My life is a mistake," I said, unable to hold back the words any longer.

He couldn't mask his shock.

"It should have been me up there. Not her. I'm the one who should be dead. Not her. She was a million, a billion times more worthy than me. It's my fault. All this... all of this is my fault..."

I turned away, desperate not to make a scene, to get somewhere private where I could try to crawl away to hide.

"Oh, nein, Lucy, nein..." he sighed.

I tried to pull my hand free. "Please," I said, as what little self-control I still had burned out. "Please. Please let me go. Ti supplico..."

He pulled me to him and wrapped his strong, comforting arms around me.

"No," he said.

He held me to his chest until I simply could not cry any more.

.:.

He'd taken me into the cablecar station to preserve my privacy from curious bystanders, and he'd sat me down at a table in the small employee canteen.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "You must be so tired of me by now."

"Here," he said, as he set a cup of coffee down in front of me. "And no, I am not. We live with this too. Not in the same manner as you, but she is still always there. She and others like her."

"It should have been me. Not her, me."

He sat down across from me.

"Lucy... life is just patterns in the chaos. In my job... I see terrible things happen to innocents. There is no reason to it. No making sense of it. We have to simply help them if we can, or mourn them and carry on if we can not."

"I wish..." I whispered.

"I know."

"We were racing. We'd been racing all morning. She loved trying to keep up with me. Her favourite thing was to do something better than me. It was my favourite thing too. We'd make up challenges, you see. She was so fast, so agile. She was a natural athlete. If we'd lived in Bern or Innsbruck or Cortina instead of St Albans then she'd have been a champion. She was that good. I was good, but she would have been a million times better than I could ever be..."

"You cannot blame yourself, Lucy."

"I went down the half pipe. She fell because of me."

"Was she happy, that day?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Were you?"

"Yes..." I hiccoughed.

He reached over the table and took my hand. "Then remember that part of it. She fell. It happens even to the champions. A million times, she would have got up and brushed the snow off and laughed with you. In this world... the angle was just wrong, and she did not. She was happy, Lucy. She was doing what she loved with the people that she loved."

He squeezed my hand. "Lucy, you cannot carry this forever. It was not your fault."

"I'm her big sister. It's my job to look after her. She trusted me. I should have... I wish I'd..."

"You cannot control everything, Lucy."

I took a shuddering breath, and another. "I miss her so much," I whispered. "It is so hard without her. She was my light. She made me better."

"Yes."

I sniffed, scrubbed at my eyes, fought for calm. "I... I remember something from last night. Giselle was shouting something, and then you said something about her. About Sue. What was it? Please..."

He sighed. "We call your sister 'Die Bergengel' here."

"... oh. Mountain... angel?" I asked, softly.

"Yes."

"She'd... love that. There is a... a bear by the memorial by her name. A child's teddy bear. Do... do you know who left it there for her?"

"My father," he said, after a long, heavy silence. "It was my father. Giselle is almost of an age with your sister, you see. She is my father's favourite of all of the cousins. I think that is why it affects him so. Every year on... on that day, he goes to Piz Sella. It is the only time he goes there any more."

"Oh. Can... can you thank him? For me? Please..."

"No."

"No?" I stared at him, not understanding the immediate, flat denial.

"No, Lucy. That is your part in this. You should do that yourself. He has asked if it would be possible to meet with you."

I swallowed painfully. "I..."

"I think he will be able to tell you the things you are so desperate to know." He paused, sighed. "And I think... you could perhaps do the same for him in return."

"When?" I whispered.

"Now, if you want? His house is not far."

"But... I'm a mess. Look at me, I'm a complete train-wreck, Jesus..."

"No," he gently corrected me. "You are not a mess. You are certainly not a wreck. You are a beautiful young woman with a broken heart and a terrible weight on you that you should not have to carry any longer."

He stood, offered me his hand. "Come. Please."

"Are... are you sure?"

"Yes. He is better during the day."

"Will you... stay?"

"Yes. Come. It is not far, and it... well. It would mean so much to him."

.:.

I breathed in, and held my breath for as long as I could, until black spots danced in my vision. Then I did it again. And again.

It had been hard. Had I known how hard it would have been, I would never have come.

But, in some strange way, something felt like it had eased. Somehow I felt like I had perhaps found some small measure of peace. Some starting point from which I could, maybe, begin to move on and let her go.

Anton emerged from his family home, and closed the door behind him. "Lucy?" he called to me. "Are you Ok?"

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak just yet.

He pulled on his gloves and came to me. He put his arm around my shoulder. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you for sharing that with him. You have removed such a weight from his soul by coming here and closing the circle for us. You are the bravest person I know," he added.

I turned away, staring out at the mountains, focussing on holding it together.

"Lucy?"

"Can't." I said, shaking my head, vision blurring. "Can't. Bitte. Can't."

Herr Larcher's gentle voice had resurrected far too many things for me. Things that I had locked away forever, things that I had not wanted to remember ever again.

I could remember the way they'd unzipped her jacket and cut open the unicorn shirt she'd loved so much so they could attach the defibrillator electrodes and try to restart her heart. Pieces of pink and gold sequins had spilled around her on the snow like drops of angel's blood.

I could remember the way she'd stared sightlessly up into the gently falling snow, flakes frosting her perfect lips and the white-gold locks of her glorious hair.

I could remember the way they'd bundled her so desperately into the helicopter.

I could remember how her arm had fallen free from the stretcher as they lifted her, and had hung suspended in the void, fingers curled into a graceful gesture no longer of this world.

And I could remember the way four grown men had had to pry me free from the helicopter's door and landing skis and pin me down in the snow, kicking and screaming and biting like a rabid dog, mad with rage and grief at not being permitted to go with her, to be with her one last time...

By the time they'd taken me off suicide watch the cuts in my wrists had scabbed over and the new grass of spring had taken root on her grave.

I staggered at that memory and would have fallen. But he caught me; his arms strong around me, clasped over my heart.

"Come, Lucy. Come, angel. Let me get you home."

.:.

I stared into my wineglass.

"Jesus, what a day."

"Yes. It has been a long one."

"Thank you for looking after me, Anton. Thank you for being here. You must be utterly exhausted and completely sick of me."

"Lucy, you need to stop thanking me for this. I should be thanking you. This is a great weight you have laid to rest for my family."

He waited for me to look up. "If I did not want to be here I would not be here, Lucy."

"You really want to spend your time caring for a mad British wench who can't go five minutes without crying?" I asked with the palest shade of a smile.

"Well... if you put it like that," he said with a grin. Then the grin faded. "How... how are you feeling?"

"Raw. Aching. But... it feels less heavy now, somehow."

"You have taken the first step, maybe."

"The first of many."

"Yes, but you have taken it."

I sighed, and stared down at the meal I'd made us.

"I'm sorry it is so plain, Anton. This meal."

"It is very delicious. I am enjoying it a great deal."

"Oh. Well. I'm glad you like it. It was the least I could do for you. You've helped me so much. You and your family. At least I can do one thing right today."

Silence fell. I toyed awkwardly with my food.

"So how much longer will you stay here? Now that you have your memories?"

I sighed, not really ready to think about leaving just yet.

"A couple more days, I guess. I'm due to fly out on Sunday. And I want... I want to spend some time outside. In the snow and the wind and the cold. Not on... that mountain, but the others. It will remind me of her. Of us. Of what we had."

"And then? Back to the boyfriend in Britain? The fancy job and the nice house?"

"No," I said, poking at my food. "No, just to what remains of my family... There is nobody waiting for me, not any more. No partner. No job. No fancy house. Nothing. I guess I'll need to grow up and find work again so I can get a place of my own and start over."

"There is another heavy story here that you are not telling me, hmm?"

I stared at the table. I put down my fork, picked up my wineglass and drained it. I coughed, then filled it again, and took a gulp.

"Lucy, you are shaking. What is it?" he said, softly.

"It's... there was someone. There isn't any more. I think he got tired of the drama and of having to be the... the foundations for our relationship... such as it was. He... he found another bed that was... warmer and came with less... baggage. I was too broken. Still am, really."

I flushed. "I can't believe I told you that," I confessed. "It must be the wine, loosening this stupid tongue of mine."

Anton shook his head, disgusted. "Schwere Trottel," he muttered. "Idiot."

"Me?"

"No, of course not you." he said, slightly louder. "Him. This man. I was saying that he was an idiot, this man. Ja, ja, sure, maybe things were difficult for him. Maybe you are harder to please and take care of than some other woman. But to give up on someone like you? Idiot," he repeated.

I flushed, warmed by the fierce intensity of his words.

"He tried. At least, I think... he did. At first. But... Anton. I have to be fair to him. I was far too cold, far too distant most of the time. Unless I was drinking. He wasn't able to cope. And it wasn't fair to expect him to. And then there is this. Look," I added, rolling back my sleeve so he could see the scars on my wrists. "See?" I breathed, watching his expression.

He caught my hand in his. "I am sorry," he sighed, as he gently rolled my sleeve back down. "I am sorry for everything that has happened to you. But... Lucy, you do not need to find excuses for him."

"Well, he did one good thing, at least. He nagged me to come back here. So I owe him that, I suppose."

Anton shook his head. "You owe him nothing for this. It is you who came here, you who faced this Eiger... this great and terrible thing down. It is you who did it, not him. You should be proud."

I stared at my lap, hunting for a safe topic. "I hope whatever you are missing to spend this time with me is not important," I said.

He let go of my hand, sat back, and snorted in disdain.

"Pfaugh. Nothing important, just work work work. Sort those supplies. Order these supplies. Make sure the equipment is ready. Coil the ropes. Wax the skis. I did that all this morning in one hour. I am too efficient, you see," he added, grinning. "It is one of my failings. I get bored. So I go patrol even when I am not on the roster. Which is why I found you where I did."

"What do you do when you're not being efficient?" I teased him.

He leaned back, amused. "Cross-country skiing in winter. Paragliding in summer. Mountain biking. I live outdoors. These mountains are part of my family. These mountains are my bones."

"It sounds nice. To have a place you belong to like this."

He ate another mouthful of his meal with every sign of enjoyment.

"It keeps me out of trouble," he said, once he'd swallowed.

"Now that's a shame," I murmured.He glanced up at me, and then aside, and I flushed at my temerity. "There goes the wine again," I whispered. "Sorry."

I put down my fork and topped up our glasses once more. I picked mine up and wandered over to the window. "I like the night here," I said "The stars seem closer to us when I look at them."

"The air is thinner so they are brighter. They flicker less."

I heard him push his chair back, and swallowed nervously as he came to stand beside me.

"Lucy? What is wrong?"

"You have been good to me," I whispered. "Thank you. I will miss... this."

"This?"

I turned slightly, looked up at him. He watched me, inscrutable in the soft glow of the kitchen counter lights.

I impulsively stood up on my toes, and kissed him. He made a noise of surprise, and I turned away, flushing hot.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"Lucy..." he said, softly.

I didn't answer. I could hear the regret in his voice. I braced myself for the rejection I knew was coming.

His wineglass clinked as he set it aside, and I shivered as he put an arm around me. He pulled me gently, inexorably in towards him, and as I turned back to him I lifted my aching arm and placed my hand against his chest, fingers flat over his heart.

"You make me feel so safe," I sighed. "You make all that is bad go away. I wish..."

And I shivered again as he planted the gentlest of kisses on my forehead.

"You are tired. You are distraught," he gently remonstrated. "It would be wrong of me to take advantage of this moment. It would be a betrayal. Do you understand?"

"Even if I wanted you to?" I sighed.

"Even then. Especially then. No matter how much I might want to. It would be wrong."

"And would you want to?" My heart thudded painfully.

"You are a kind and wonderful woman." he said, after a pause, as if that were answer enough.

I kissed him only once more that night - full on the lips as a proper goodbye, betrayal be damned.

He looked back at me several times as he walked slowly down the hill. I stood shivering in the doorway until he was lost in the gloom.

And for the first time in forever I fell asleep to a different kind of heartache, yearning for a different person.

.:.

I wormed my way into the gondola, clutching my skis and poles tightly. I was still sore, but I was also determined. Time was passing all too quickly. I had already wasted far too much of it on my histrionics, and I didn't have much left to spend here in this place we had both loved so much.

High broken cloud dimmed the otherwise beautiful morning light; and the ten minute ride to the top station was perhaps marginally less spectacular than it could have been.

I sighed as I looked out at the vista.

"You chose a lovely place, Sue," I said. "Maybe I'll come join you here some day. But not yet, dear heart. Not yet."

I dodged the gaggle that blocked the exit of the station, and found a sheltered nook to wince, curse and try to struggle into my goggles and helmet.

I decided that solo skiing sucked. I decided that having only one functional arm probably sucked even more.

I was just about to fling my helmet down the hill in a incandescent fit of rage when someone called my name.

"Oi! Lucy!"

I turned, puzzled, searching. Then I saw Giselle.

"Lucy," she called again. She waved. "Come here! Please!"

"Ok!" I called. I bent and fumbled my skis up off the snow and stumbled towards her. Giselle grabbed my equipment for me and stacked it into a corner. "Lucy," she repeated. "What are you doing, you mad woman? Your shoulder? Is it healed? Why are you up here? You should be resting!"

"No. I am still sore. But I want to ski," I said. "I... I need to ski. To clear my head. For the peace..."

"Where are you going?"

"Just here. On the nursery slopes. Nothing stupid or insane, I swear."

She stared hard at me, biting her lip, clearly not convinced. "Ok. Ok. So long as you stay here, bitte. No more heroics, please. Not now." She took a breath. "I don't want to have to rescue you again. Also, have you seen Anton yet?"

I flushed, shifted uncomfortably.

She grinned, delighted by my reaction. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes..."

"Good. I suppose he behaved? Such a shame. He really likes you, you know," she added, mischievously.

"I... he does?"

"Very much," she said. Then the grin faded. "Lucy? What is it?"

I fiddled with my glove. I couldn't meet her gaze.

"He said we couldn't... do anything. No matter how he felt. That he wouldn't take advantage of me... because... because I was hurt and vulnerable..."

I looked away, trying not to let the embarrassment show.

"Mein Gott, dieser Mann," she growled. She put her arm around me. "He is a... what is the fucking word... a Paladin, as if he lived in the time of Charlemagne. He will never take what he wants no matter how much he desires it. Stumpfkopf."

She lifted my chin, stared hard at me. "Do you like him, Lucy?"