A Miracle Mountain Christmas

by Ciara Knight

  “No, you’re wrong now. She didn’t run off because she wants ya gone.” Birdie wrapped her arms around him as if he were still a little boy. “Oh, Mason. And they say I’m flighty.”

  He pulled back and analyzed her from head to toe. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Sure, I’m sure.” Birdie clapped both his shoulders. “I’m great now that yer here, darlin’.”

  Mason inhaled a long breath, finally settling into himself again. He ignored the constant strum of desire to pull Savannah into his arms, wipe her tears away, and never let her go. But he had to. He loved her too much to cause her any more pain. He’d done enough to last a lifetime.

  Birdie took him by the hand and led him through the atrium to a large staircase. “It’s gonna be beautiful when we’re done. We’re already booking clients the first of the year.”

  Mason eyed the peeling paint and broken floor. “That’s only a couple weeks away. And it’s the holiday season. What contractor can work hard enough during the season to make that happen?”

  “Blake Contracting Services.”

  Mason shook his head. “I should’ve known she’d still be helping you girls out. She swore she’d never leave, and I guess she meant it.”

  “Nope, only her heart left.” Birdie spun around with her arms outstretched. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She continued to spin, escaping to that Birdie world she’d always retreat to when things were uncomfortable. “It’s not good for a body and heart to be separated so long.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Aunt Birdie?” Mason snagged her hand and she wobbled to a stop. He caught her before she tumbled over and broke a hip or something.

  “Yes, but you’re not. Neither is Savannah. You left her.” Birdie settled on her feet and pulled away.

  “I had to leave. Her family blamed me for her sister’s death, remember?” And he couldn’t deny it.

  “I told you it wasn’t your fault. Savannah told you it wasn’t your fault. The law said it wasn’t your fault. The girl simply fell in the river.”

  He shook his head again. “Doesn’t change the fact her family blames me.”

  Sunny snagged a pale pink hard hat from a hook on the wall and wafted into another room. “She’s right, you know. You shouldn’t have left. And it shouldn’t have taken a lie to get you to come back. What happened? You told me a month ago you were going to come face everything,” She shouted over the grinding saw.

  “I was wrong. It’s too hard on Savannah with me here.” He paced around the room then returned to the main hall to get away from the noise. “I thought with it being seven years ago…” To distract his thoughts, he analyzed the woodwork. Birdie was right. The place would be grand once the molding was fixed, walls painted, and Sunny finished decorating.

  “No. You weren’t.”

  “But you didn’t have to lie to me. I would’ve arranged to see you,” Mason protested.

  “Didn’t we?” Cookie’s voice echoed with authority through the main upstairs hall. “Your aunt’s been trying to get you to visit for the last five years.”

  “I couldn’t. You saw Savannah. She took off at the sight of me.”

  Sunny and Cookie came back into the room, the three of them surrounding him. They seemed less like geese and more like foxes, with him in the henhouse. “You ran off without a word. What man does that? She’d lost her sister, and then the man she was meant to marry,” Cookie said.

  Shame flooded him, but he shook it off. “It was the right thing to do. I let her go so she could move on with her life.”

  “Move on? She’s never dated, never left home, not even when her parents moved away. We’re her only loved ones left.”

  Mason took a step back, attempting a retreat, but they refused to release him from their circle. Another minute of this intimidation and he was worried he’d grow a tail or horns. The GG legend of the man-turned-frog of 1997 popped into his head. That man had cheated on Birdie. He didn’t want to ribbit the rest of his life, so he dropped his duffle and his keys. “Look, I said I’d stay through lunch.” Yet, something told him he’d just surrendered to a firing squad.

  Chapter 3

  Cold, bone-chilling air blew through Savannah’s thin flannel shirt, the temperature dropping as fast as her heart. Why was he here? She’d gotten past the world of grief. It had taken months, but she had finally found a way to put her shoes on in the morning, to go to work, and even smile on occasion. Years to finish school and find a hint of happiness in her life. Now, he had returned. Was she going to have to start all over when he left again?

  She’d rehearsed what she would say to him if she ever saw him again. How she would tell him he was a coward for running away. That he was a monster for leaving her behind to face all of it alone. But when he stepped through that door, the words had abandoned her just as he had seven years ago.

  She wandered down the narrow gravel path, past the new wedding gazebo, and stood at the top of the wooden steps embedded in the hill, leading to the river bridge. The water raged angrily below, warning her to stay away. The sound of the rapids beating against the ridge, the same sound as that awful day when her sister slid down the rocky embankment, caused the air to stutter in her lungs.

  Crunching footsteps sounded from behind her, and a frosty puff of air left her lips in anticipation. Her heart hammered with hope and hatred, unable to beat normally through the conflicting emotions.

  “I brought your coat.” Cookie wrapped the thick material around Savannah’s shoulders and rubbed, a gesture not typical for her. It was a pity rub.

  “I’m fine. I won’t fall apart this time.” Savannah snuggled into the offered warmth anyway.

  “I know you won’t. You’re not eighteen anymore, and you’re stronger now.” Cookie stood beside her, arms crossed. Her apron had been replaced by her coat, but her face remained expressionless.

  They stood side-by-side, eyeing the river in silence and listening to the call of the water below. The snowflakes grew, becoming puffs of white and dotting the hillside as if trying to disguise the jagged rocks and powerful rapids in a blanket of serenity. “It’s going to be beautiful,” Savannah said. “The inn, I mean. Do you think Mason will invest?”

  Cookie’s lips pursed for a moment, but she recovered. “You’re too smart. You know that, right? How’d you figure that out?”

  Savannah chuckled, more of a relief of stress than a laugh. “You’ve had seven years to drag Mason back here. The first two years, I’d hoped the GGs would work their magic… After that, I figured that ship had sailed and sunk in a Bermuda Triangle of lies, work, and life. Besides, I know you’ve been struggling with the finances to get this place up and running.”

  “How?”

  Savannah pulled the check she’d received that morning and handed it to her. “It bounced.”

  Cookie sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. And don’t give up.” Savannah took a long deep breath then turned to face her, trying to think of something encouraging to say. The way they had encouraged her to live life again after it had seemed like her world was dying. She owed them that much. “If anyone can make this place work, it’s the GGs. You three ladies can do anything by working together. Plus, this is a gold mine. Yes, the building needed renovating, and the grounds could use some landscaping, but I see the potential. Just imagine how many people will flock here to get away from it all. Plus, with your cooking, you’ll keep them coming back.”

  Cookie slid the check into her jacket pocket, her gaze cast to the ground with an un-Cookie-like look of defeat. “We’ll pay you back.”

  “You already have. You three stayed for me.”

  Cookie opened her mouth, but no words came out. She finally shook her head.

  “Don’t even try. I know full well you three had planned to travel the world when Mason was old enough to support himself, but you didn’t. You stayed behind. You stayed…for me.” The words broke up and she fought the emotions strangling her.

  Cook
ie shook her head again. “We’re happy here. Besides, you know Birdie can get lost in a bathroom. Just imagine what would’ve happened if we’d taken her to Vatican City. Sunny would’ve tried to befriend a camel in Egypt and got bit. And I… Well, let’s face it. I would’ve landed us in prison after I lost my temper with a French chef.”

  Savannah laughed, a real one this time. The first in what felt like forever. “You have a point.” A gaggle of geese squawked overhead as they headed south, demonstrating perfect formation and dedication. That was how the GGs got their name. “You know, I might not be a member of the GGs, but I’m still part of the team. How much do you need to finish the construction and make it through the first month?”

  “Without paying you?” Cookie lifted her chin high in the air. Not in her normal defiant way, but rather a show of pride in the face of defeat. “Thirty thousand, to cover the labor, supplies, mortgage, furniture, supplies and other miscellaneous expenses.”

  “Ouch.” Savannah clutched her coat, pulling it tight around her like a shield from the cold cruelty of the world. “I have ten. Do you think Mason can put up twenty?”

  Cookie shook her head. “We can’t take your money.”

  “You can and you will. I owe you that much at least.” Savannah slid her fingers into Cookie’s, a daring act of affection. They stood for a moment in silence, neither moving, the only sound the faint honking of the geese as they continued their journey to someplace warmer.

  “Partners,” Cookie said finally. “You’ll be a GG partner on the project.” Savannah stepped away, but Cookie kept her hand. “It’s the only way we’ll take your money. And as for Mason, he’s got plenty to spare. The problem is getting him to part with it. That man has done nothin’ the last seven years but earn money and stay away. He’s not the boy we raised.”

  “No, he’s not.” Savannah fought the regret of never seeing her Mason again. The boy who loved to hike the Tennessee trails with her, hand in hand. The boy with the tender touch, soft eyes, and giving spirit. She longed to feel his palm on her cheek, the way he had cupped her face before kissing her goodnight at her front door. But her Mason was gone, replaced by a man she barely recognized.

  “I bribed him with cookies to get him to stay, but he’ll be ridin’ off into the sunset again as soon as he can.”

  “It’s because he hates me. I’d talk to him, but I doubt he’d listen.” He hadn’t seven years ago when she’d tried to convince him Theresa’s death wasn’t his fault. The tears she’d been fighting since she’d seen him walk through the front door welled in her eyes. Two managed to break free, trickling down her cheeks and settling at the seam of her lips.

  Cookie pulled her into an unceremonious hug, awkwardly patting and stroking her back. “He don’t hate you. Is that what you’ve thought all this time? No, child. He despises himself. He blames himself for your sister’s death. That’s why he left.”

  “How could he not despise me?” Savannah asked, unable to believe otherwise. Would he really have left if he didn’t resent her for everything that happened to him? “My parents tried to have him put in jail for murder.”

  “Unfortunate circumstances, but that was between your parents and him. You did nothing wrong. He did nothing wrong either, until he ran away.” Cookie released her, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders as she stared her down. “Now, you listen to me. I won’t let you carry on thinkin’ like that. You two gotta actually talk, instead of pussyfooting around like you have the last seven years. It’s time to share the truth with him.” She pulled a small leather book from her coat pocket and handed it to Savannah. Her sister’s diary.

  Savannah took it flashing to the words of betrayal written by her own sister’s hand. She shoved it into her jacket wishing she would’ve burned it years ago.

  “I’ll stop him from leavin’. Even if he won’t give us the money, he’s gonna give you back your heart.”

  “How are you going to keep him from leaving?”

  Cookie’s lips curled in a mischievous grin. “Just leave that to the GGs.”

  Chapter 4

  The rich taste of dark chocolate coated Mason’s tongue with the bliss of childhood memories. Out of all the Chicago restaurants, he’d never found food that compared to Cookie’s…uh, Ms. Melba’s. He was still trying to get used to calling her that. She hadn’t told him to call her Ms. Melba since he was ten and tried to use her bra to catch minnows in the creek. If she was back to that, he was in the dog house for sure.

  “I think you missed those cookies,” Aunt Birdie said, her tone as happy, yet not as light, as he remembered. The way she shifted in her chair told him she was nervous about something.

  He ate the last bite and savored the lingering taste of peanut butter before he took a long draw from the glass of milk Ms. Melba had set before him. “You know, you could move to Chicago with me.”

  Aunt Birdie shook her head, her bouffant of hair waving like a cartoon woodpecker. “I’d never move away. You know that.” She reached across the glass top table and rested her hand on his. “You should come home.”

  He stiffened, every muscle in his body protesting the idea. “Not possible.”

  “Why? Wasn’t that your plan only a few weeks ago?”

  He pulled his hand away and shoved his chair back from the table. Unable to open the lock on the memories of his past, he picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen. “Can you tell Cook―uh, Ms. Melba the cookies were delicious? I’m going to head back to the airport. I need to catch the next flight back to Chicago now that I know you’re fine. The marketing game is busy this time of year, so I need to return to work.”

  “I’m not fine.” Her words, her pleading tone made him stop in the kitchen doorway. Guilt ate at him. What if she really was sick? What if she needed him and he couldn’t get to her in time? He set the plates on the counter and pushed his shoulders back, ready for a battle. “If you’re sick, I’m taking you back to Chicago with me. The hospitals there―”

  “No, I’m not. And no, I won’t.” Aunt Birdie interrupted. She had never spoken to him so bluntly. She’d never even disciplined him growing up. That had been Cookie’s job. He rubbed his knuckles at the memory of her wooden spoon.

  “If you’re not sick, then what is it? I can hear it in your voice. Something’s wrong.” Mason swallowed, willing his body to stay put long enough to hear Aunt Birdie out, but his foot already angled toward the door for escape.

  Silent for a long moment, she finally said, “I need money.”

  He shook his head. Was that all that was worrying her? “You know I’ll always help you, but what about your savings? You sold your beauty parlor, so you should have the proceeds from that.”

  “Gone.” Aunt Birdie bit her bottom lip.

  He knew what that meant. She’d done something crazy and frivolous, likely spent all of the money on the latest hair-brained scheme the GGs had cooked up. He eyed the kitchen, the walls, the room. “You spent it on this place? Are you insane?”

  “Don’t raise your voice at me.” She fled the room with a blur of colorful fabric. “If you don’t want to lend me money, I’ll get it somewhere else.”

  Mason shook his head. Why had he assumed she would be responsible with her money without him managing it? How many times had the GGs helped her out of a financial crisis? Returning the massive hair drying units which she’d bought on a whim claiming they were supposed to dry hair faster? Yet, all they had done was short out and almost burn poor Mrs. Mitchell from Creekside. Or the time they had to return the new sports car the dealer had convinced Aunt Birdie she needed because it was the only way she’d ever fly. Yet, this time the GGs seemed to be in on it. “Listen, you need to forget about this place. Old houses like this require a ton of upkeep. It will only eat away at all your finances. Haven’t you ever seen the movie The Money Pit? You need to sell it and try to get your money back.” How could Cookie and Sunny let this happen?

  “It’s all we have. They lost everything, too.” Aunt Bird
ie clapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. The truth was already out.

  “You’re all insane.” Mason shook his head. “I’ll call a realtor and see if I can get you ladies out of this mess. In the meantime, you need to consider returning to Chicago with me. There’s nothing left for you here.” For either of them.

  “Never, and you can’t make me.” Aunt Birdie turned and sprinted through the house with her kimono flowing dramatically behind her.

  Darn her stubbornness. But then it did run in the family.

  He sighed. He’d find a way to get her to Chicago, even if he had to pull legal into it. For now, though, he needed to get out of this crazy house and away from the equally crazy women who raised him.

  Stepping over stacks of wooden boards and debris, he made his way back to the atrium. He paused at the French doors leading to the back patio, and stared through the glass panes at the beauty of the Tennessee mountains. He’d once loved them, once thought he’d live here forever. He spotted Savannah at the edge of the hillside, looking down at the river. His heart and hands wanted to pull her close, smell the floral scent of her hair, feel the softness of her skin, the fullness of her lips, but logic told him to run. To maintain the distance he’d built over the last seven years. Trying to bridge the gap now wouldn’t bring her sister back.

  He grabbed his duffle off the floor then reached into the side pocket for the keys to his rental car. The side pocket was empty. Around him, the house stood eerily quiet. Realizing it was break time for the workers and not that they’d all ran off, he walked back toward the kitchen. No sound of pots or pans on the stove, no sign of Birdie’s bright kimono or Sunny’s smile. He dug through his duffle, pants pockets, and even looked under the tools sprawled over the floor. There was no sign of them anywhere.