“No! My God, this can’t be! This can’t have happened!” Anton’s startled cry pierced the silence. Looking at the surreal scene, Anton felt shock waves of fear. "I must be dreaming! This can’t be real!" he thought. But there was no denying what was before

his eyes—a vast wall of fallen boulders blocked the very path he needed to take.

He felt like a faucet had suddenly drained all the energy out of his body. Even on this warm day, chills ran through him. His greatest dread had materialized. From his campsite in the beautiful Swiss valley he had known since childhood, the night before he had heard what he thought was thunder. Instead, it had been an avalanche.

Now, in the morning, having climbed up the trail from the valley to this path, he found that insurmountable boulders barricaded his only way out. He had scaled these mountains for years, but these boulders were too large and too high to traverse without proper gear. Some of them stood straight up, like the enormous pillars in ancient Greek temples. Climbing to a vantage point, he saw that miles of huge rocks surrounded him. It would be impossible for anyone, even experienced rescuers, to get through.

But people in the nearby village must have heard the avalanche’s roar, he consoled himself. And he had told his friend, Stefan, where he would be.

Then he realized, Oh, God! He’ll think I’m dead, crushed under falling stones.

Anton knew that there was no way out. Trapped and panicked—I’m going to die! He started screaming for help. The menacing rocks enveloped his cries, first muffling them, then sending back echoes that surrounded him in waves of terror.

“Why did I listen to Jacques? Why did I return here?”

Unexpectedly Anton heard a voice, coming from nowhere, say, “Don’t be fright- ened, you will be rescued. You will live. Go back to your valley and make a sign.”

“A sign? What does that mean—a ?” Then a thought occurred to him. Yes! He would need to make a sign that could be seen from the air. Stefan wouldn’t just assume that he was dead. He would at least try to see if Anton was visible from the air.

With hope in his heart, Anton returned to the valley. He quickly gathered tree branches from the ground and in a clearing made a sign: spelling the word HELP. Then he pitched his tent again and unpacked his backpack.

He had very little in the way of food, and the vegetation that grew in the valley wasn’t edible. He just had to wait and pray. To keep himself from feeling distressed, he started to recall the events that had brought him to this valley again.

***

It had all started on an uncommonly sunny day in March. Stopped in traffic, Anton Bauer glanced out the open window and saw an elderly, white-haired man on the sidewalk next to his car. Abruptly, the man reached in and handed Anton a calling card. “Someday you will want to see me,” the man said. “Put this card away for now but remember it when the time comes.”

A moment later, he disappeared into the crowd.

How strange, Anton thought. But he believed in unusual occurrences, so he put the card in his pocket and, when traffic began moving again, drove as fast as possible toward downtown Zürich.

Looking at his watch, he saw that he was already late for his lunch date with Beatrice. She would be furious, and he didn’t blame her. It had been his fault for losing track of the time that morning. He thought about Beatrice, her black hair flowing, a wild water- fall down her back, and her olive skin, tanned from days of sun worshiping. His whole body felt a surge of energy when he pictured her long sensuous legs and her soft skin that smelled like morning dew on lilacs.

But that’s over, he told himself—definitely over. The meeting was just to finalize some of the finances and say goodbye, for the last time, to their life as a couple.

Anton could tell Beatrice had already drunk some wine when he arrived at the restaurant. Her dark eyes expressed her irritation, but she didn’t comment when he bent down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“Sorry, traffic. Have you ordered?”

“Yes, your favorite appetizer and wine.” She pointed to the half-full bottle, raised her glass, and said, “Thought this called for a celebration, so I ordered Chateau du Neuves.” Anton shrugged and didn’t respond to her sarcasm. In a lighter mood, he poured some wine and lifted his own glass, saying, “To our years together. May we always be friends.”

This made her smile.

“But of course, Darling. How could we not be friends? It’s the thing to do these days.

Besides, you have been very generous.”

It was his turn to smile, knowing the voraciousness of her requests and the relent-

lessness of her notorious lawyer. He looked at her beautiful elegance and knew that none of the demands mattered. Behind them were five years of great sex, socializing in the top circles, and no real love. A grand illusion while it lasted, all had worn thin with time. Underneath, there was nothing to hold them together. The previous year, she had started to cheat on him. And he didn’t care.

“How are your parents?” she asked.

It was a loaded question. Both their sets of parents were furious at their decision to split. The older couples had been friends for years. They had always felt that the union of their respective children would make the best of all marriages and presumed Anton and Beatrice would produce the best of all children. Fortunately, that last part hadn’t happened. Both Anton and Beatrice knew on some level that their passion would dis- solve into non-nourishing water, and before it became too muddy, it was best to end the flow.

To others, they appeared to be the handsome, glamorous couple. Beatrice was always so classy with her tall, slim body, clothed in the latest fashions. She moved grace- fully—a gazelle with an edge of defiance that challenged and provoked the men she encountered. Anton also dressed stylishly, with an attitude of erudition that sometimes put people off. Gray-blue eyes, inherited from his father, were his best feature. Beatrice always knew what he was truly feeling because his eyes reflected his emotions—even when he tried to conceal them, which he often attempted to do.

The rest of the lunch was filled with chitchat about their friends and plans—all the nonsense that had surrounded their lives since they had been childhood playmates.

When lunch ended, Anton handed Beatrice a final, signed document stating the agreed-upon alimony. They embraced as they said farewell.

“You know, it was good. A fling once in a while could still be fun.” Beatrice tugged his shirtfront.

“Maybe,” he replied, knowing he never wanted to take her up on it. In fact, some- thing in him recoiled at the suggestion. Too much had happened, too much had been lost. No matter how attracted he still was to her, the desire evaporated when he looked into her dead eyes. She was now in the drug scene that was so prevalent in their crowd. Drugs and sex made love disappear, and even kindness no longer existed. He felt relieved to be free of that world. More and more it had become her scene, and he had retreated into solitude: a better place than the mania of Zürich nightlife.

In the morning, he received a phone call from his sister, Kristina. “You need to relax and have some fun,” she said. “Beatrice has already started. I saw her last night with a new man, and obviously she doesn’t have any regrets. My Dear, I know you’re just as happy; but the whole town is gossiping about the divorce, spreading rumors about how terrible it must have been for you.”

“But that’s not true,” Anton responded.

“Yes, I know, but it is true that no one believes you can be happy about it. Everyone thinks you were taken for a ride and really burned because of the settlement.”

“Money never has been important to me.”

“Yes, but my God, you paid her for half the condo—something you owned long

before you were married—and you’re paying her all that alimony when she’s young and can get a job. Why did you give her so much?” Kristina’s voice became critical.

“You know I don’t like dealing with conflict. That’s why I chose to just give her the money. I knew exactly what I was doing, and it wasn’t out of love.”

“Well, that’s not what everyone is saying, and since there’s no reason for some of what you’ve done, I can understand why people feel you are still madly in love with her.” Kristina became the caring big sister again. “Anyway, let me give you some good advice: get out of Zürich for a while until this thing blows over. Don’t you have an Easter

break from the university soon?”

“Yes, but I think I will stay here to catch up on some writing I need to do. Also, I

need to redecorate my place and get Beatrice’s vibes out.”

“Anton, you’ll have time this summer to do that, and until then you can always do your work at home. Go home to Grindelwald; it’s quiet there now. Mom and Dad, as you know, are in Italy again.”

Home! That would be good, he thought, to get away from city crowds and once again experience the majestic mountains and how sometimes they mystically reached through high clouds to embrace the heavens.

“Let me think about it. Maybe I’ll take your advice.”

“Please do. By the time you return to Zürich, everyone will be into other things. No more gossip, if you know what I mean.”

Yes, indeed, Anton knew about the gossip. Most of Beatrice’s crowd invented all sorts of stories about him, some of which were not only false but made him even angrier with Beatrice, as she went along with them. Once, one of her “buddies” had asked him why he couldn’t get it up with such a sexy wife: was he gay or something? He had felt so angry he wanted to punch the guy, but instead he had just walked away. Later, he wondered why he had reacted so strongly.

This incident had happened at the beginning of their separation. It surprised and hurt Anton since sex had never been their problem. He could only believe it was some- thing Beatrice had made up to excuse herself for being unfaithful.

Anton told Kristina he would get back to her, but even as he spoke, he knew she was right. He should go home to the mountains and away from the stench of this world.

Anton taught philosophy and Eastern studies at the University of Zürich. When Easter break began, he drove home. The family always referred to their house in the Alps as “home,” even though they lived, most of the time, in other houses and condos, near their jobs and friends.

It was large for a mountain house, designed in a typical Bernese Oberland style (or what was called a “Swiss chalet”). Its low-pitched roof was steep, the eaves wide—a design that helped shed snow in the winter months. Anton loved the wood that had been used to construct the house. It was old timber, with a deep, reddish-brown color that gave the house a welcoming warmth. In the summertime, his mother filled window boxes with an array of colorful flowers and hung also them from small balconies on each level.

The village of Grindelwald, where the house was located, was nestled in a valley. The house itself was set above the town against the side of the mountain, which somewhat protected it from the winds that arose from nowhere and tore across the valley floor. Sometimes the family retreated to the cellar to feel safe when the winds were particularly strong and relentless. As a child, Anton had loved to hear the whistle of the wind as it swept up from the town below, making its way through the narrow passageways between buildings. It sounded as if it came from another world. Some claimed it was the groan of the mountain spirit feeling irritated because its timber was slowly being cut down for commercial use.

When the household descended into the cellar on those occasions, Anton’s father would open a bottle of brandy and let them all drink to keep warm, as the stones belowground were many degrees colder than the house above. It was one of Anton’s favorite memories of childhood, imbued with simple living and a time for closeness. His older brothers, Erick and Jonas, played cards and sometimes let him join in. Kristina would always get a little drunk and make up plays for them to perform to pass the time, since the winds could last for days, making it too dangerous to return upstairs. There had always been enough food and bedding kept in dry bins for use when necessary.

It was late afternoon when Anton arrived in Grindelwald, one of the few mountain villages that could be reached by car. Many towns could only be reached by cable car or by mountain train. On this day the sky was clear, and the mountain views were unencumbered by the low-laying clouds that often cloaked the landscape. He stopped several times on the road just to experience the scene.

Strange how the mountains called him; even stranger, the call seemed to be different every time he returned. This time, it was a call that made his heart expand as if the mountain spirit was gently reaching into his chest and lovingly pulling it outward. The sense of it was elusive, so elusive that when he stopped at a clearing and looked out over the mountains, it felt more like a breath not breathed, or a sigh not sounded. Later, he would remember that moment and understand.

It was close to dusk when he arrived at the house. Later that night, after dinner, Anton sat by the stone fireplace enjoying the fire, sipping brandy. Suddenly, he began to feel a strange dread that something would occur to sweep away this comfort — sweep it away with a force almost like the mountain winds.

The phone rang. He looked at his watch and saw it was after midnight. “Hello, who is this?” He answered in a stern voice.

“Anton, it’s me. I need your help”. “Kristina, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t tell you. Please come. I’m in Interlaken. I wanted to surprise you and come up for the weekend. But something has happened. Come right away.”

“What happened?”

“I’m at the Goldey Hotel in Interlaken. Come now.” The phone clicked off.

The drive down to Interlaken was dark and difficult. The mountain roads were

never lit, and there was no moonlight to illuminate the sharp turns. Anton drove carefully, even though he wanted to speed along as fast as possible. On the way, he made up stories about what could be wrong. Kristina was practical. Kristina was not frivolous. She was a doctor by profession and the most responsible of all the siblings in the family. Anything that needed to be done was assigned to her, and they all knew she would do it with great care and thoroughness.

By the time Anton arrived at the Goldey Hotel, it was around two a.m. He rang the bell and banged on the door, feeling extremely anxious. After a long pause, someone cracked it open.

“What do you want at this hour? We are full.”

“I need to see my sister, Kristina von Himsen. It’s an emergency.”

“Who? Wait a minute.” The man backed away from the door, went to the desk,

picked up the guest book, and looked through it.

“There is no one here with that name.”

“But there must be, she called me from here two hours ago and told me to come right away. Try Kristina Bauer, that’s her maiden name.”

Again, he looked at the book and said she wasn’t registered.

Feeling desperate, Anton phoned his sister’s home. When her husband, Felix,

answered, Anton asked if he knew where Kristina was. He told Felix about the phone call.

“That’s impossible, Kristina is here asleep. She went to bed early with a headache and took a sleeping pill. Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I don’t understand it. It was Kristina’s voice on the phone. Tell her I’ll talk to her in the morning.”

By now it was close to three a.m. On the drive home, Anton found a café in a small town that opened early for construction workers and had a hot cup of coffee, but he felt so tired that he decided not to drive the mountain roads. Instead, he parked on a street there and took a nap. When he awoke, dawn was breaking. He drove to the mountain road in Grindelwald that led to his family home to find it barricaded with a couple of police cars. He pulled over and asked one of the men what the problem was.

“One of the big houses caught fire last night. Fortunately, a neighbor woke up when he heard an explosion and called the fire department, but there still was some damage.”

“What house?”

“Don’t know, but it was a big one.”

When Anton explained that he lived up there, they let him through.

As he ascended the road, he thought about the sense of doom he had felt the previous night when he had been sitting by the fireplace, sipping brandy. Immediately, he knew that the home that had caught fire must be his own.