A Mountain Home Christmas (Pigeon Forge Christmas)
Chapter 1
Chapter One
T he winding mountain road stretched ahead of Maddie, each sharp turn making her grip the steering wheel a little tighter and her knuckles turn white. Thankfully, each bend brought her closer to Aunt Schatzi’s house, nestled deep in the Smoky Mountains near Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.
It was a beautiful piece of God’s country, but a bit on the remote side. So much so that the GPS had lost its signal twenty minutes ago, but Maddie knew the way. She’d been coming here with Jack for years. Had been.
Before…everything. Before his health had declined, before his heart attack, before the long, silent months that followed, and before the ache of his absence had settled permanently into her chest.
A sudden pang of grief hit her, and Maddie blinked hard, refusing to let the tears come. She cracked the window a few inches and the cold wind rushed in, biting at her cheeks and bringing with it a faint scent of wood smoke, the clean tang of pine, and the earthy smell of fallen leaves.
Somewhere along the way, she had missed the first snow, but now, tiny flurries swirled around her car, the beginnings of what looked to be a full-on blizzard.
Her older sister, Becca, had called her earlier in the day—an attempt, Maddie supposed, to check in. But Maddie knew that Becca had barely enough time to get through the pleasantries before needing to rush off again.
Becca’s life was nothing but a whirlwind of schedules and appointments. Married to a prominent surgeon, Becca’s days were filled with dinner parties, charity events, and keeping up with her two grown sons, both of whom lived close to home and seemed to have inherited their father's ambition and drive.
Becca’s voice had been warm but distracted, as usual: “You sure you don’t want to come here for Christmas? It’d be good for you, Maddie. I can get Trip to rearrange his schedule, and the boys are dying to see you.”
Rearrange his schedule. That was Becca’s world. Everyone’s life meticulously ordered by time slots and agendas.
Maddie had declined. Becca’s version of Christmas didn’t feel like the right place for her, not this year. She didn’t have the energy to plaster on a smile and pretend she wasn’t still reeling from Jack’s death. Becca hadn’t really pressed, though. There wasn’t time to delve into Maddie’s feelings when there were more important things to handle.
The thought of her sister’s busyness left Maddie feeling even more alone as she navigated the final twists in the road. No, Aunt Schatzi’s was where she needed to be. Her aunt actually wanted her to come, and Maddie knew Schatzi could use the help.
Maddie had tried to find a radio station with a weather report earlier, but the mountains made the stations go in and out. She’d finally given up, deciding that concentrating on her driving was a better idea.
As she rounded the final bend, the house came into view, perched on a hill with a view of the sprawling, snow-covered mountains beyond, and the town of Pigeon Forge in the distance below. The town was nearly invisible because of the snow in the air.
But the sight of the homestead made Maddie’s breath catch. The mountain house hadn’t changed a bit—the weathered cedar siding, the wide front porch with its matching black rocking chairs, and the stone chimney that seemed to lean a little more each year. It was exactly as she remembered, down to the overgrown bushes that crept along the sides of the house, stubbornly defying the cold.
Pulling up in front of the porch, Maddie killed the engine and sat for a minute, letting the quiet of the place settle over her. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees was the only noise, aside from her own shallow breathing. The smell of damp earth and wood smoke lingered in the air. Maddie put the window up, and as she stepped out of the car, the cold hit her like a wall, sharp and biting.
“Maddie!” Aunt Schatzi’s voice called from the porch as she opened the door and stepped out. Her figure was tall and trim, although a little more stooped than Maddie remembered. At the moment, Schatzi was bundled in a thick wool coat, her gray hair poking out from under a knitted cap. She leaned heavily on a cane, though she waved it enthusiastically in Maddie’s direction.
Maddie hadn’t remembered her needing a cane. The obvious signs of her aunt’s aging tugged at her. Life was so unfair in so many ways.
Maddie put on a smile, grabbed her purse and her big suitcase, and lugged the latter up the steps, where the familiar creak of the porch greeted her.
“Hi, Aunt Schatzi,” Maddie said, pulling her aunt into a gentle hug. Schatzi smelled of lavender soap and something comforting, like old books and lemon polish.
“You made it just in time,” Schatzi said, moving back to study Maddie with sharp blue eyes. “The snow’s coming in fast. They’re predicting six inches by morning.”
Maddie looked out at the sky, already darkening despite the early hour. The snow was falling steadily now, the flakes swirling in the wind. “Looks like we’re snowed in for Christmas,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.
“That’s all right. You’re staying here, so you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” Schatzi replied firmly, ushering her inside with a wave of her cane. “Now let’s go in. It’s freezing out here and I’ve got lunch just about ready.”
Inside, the warmth hit Maddie immediately, the smell of fresh bread and chicken soup wafting from the kitchen. The house felt like a time capsule—nothing had been altered since her last visit years ago.
The same knitted blankets draped the back of the couch, the same cluttered bookshelves lined with old mysteries and family photo albums. The same rough-hewn wood mantel with its array of knickknacks and framed pictures of friends and family.
For some people, seeing nothing had changed might have been disappointing, but to Maddie, all that sameness was like a salve on her soul. She couldn’t help but wonder if Becca ever missed this kind of simple comfort, or if she was too caught up in the whirl of her own perfect life to even think about it.
The fireplace crackled, sending waves of heat into the room, and the light from the windows was soft and muted, reflecting the grayness of the world outside.
“Take your coat off and sit down,” Schatzi instructed, moving toward the kitchen. “I’ve got soup on the stove and bread that should be ready any minute.”
Maddie shrugged off her coat and hung it on a peg by the door next to her aunt’s coat, feeling the warmth of the fire seep into her skin. She walked over to the kitchen doorway. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble,” she said.
“Nonsense,” Schatzi called back, her voice muffled as she bent to check the oven. “Nothing better than homemade bread. Besides, I know you don’t eat enough these days. I can see it on you, all that worry you carry around. It’s made you thin. Too thin.”
Maddie opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, a large orange tabby wound its way between her legs. “Well, hello,” she murmured, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. “You’re not too thin, are you?” she whispered with a smile.
The cat’s fur was warm and soft beneath her fingers, and his loud purring filled the quiet space. He leaned hard into Maddie’s hand, closing his eyes in obvious pleasure.
“That’s Ernie,” Schatzi said, straightening up with a loaf pan of hot bread in her oven mitts.
“Ernie?” That struck Maddie as an odd name for a cat.
Schatzi shrugged. “You don’t name cats. They name themselves. You just have to be smart enough to listen when they tell you what it is.” Schatzi winked as if making sure Maddie knew she was being funny. “He’s been my constant companion since not long after you-know-who left this world.”
“Oh.” Maddie’s heart tightened. Jack had loved Aunt Schatzi’s mountain house as much as she did. Every summer, they’d come up here together, hiking the trails, chopping wood for the winter, laughing at her stories, snuggling with mugs of hot cocoa by the fire. Those memories felt distant, like they belonged to someone else.
The sound of Schatzi clattering bowls onto the table pulled Maddie back to the present. “Sit, sit,” Schatzi said, waving her over to the table. “I made your favorite soup. Chicken and wild rice.”
Maddie sat down, the chair creaking beneath her. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed this—warm food, familiar company, the soft glow of a fire on a winter’s day. Schatzi set a steaming bowl of soup in front of her, the smell rich and savory, and placed a cutting board with the loaf of bread on the table along with a crock of butter. The golden crust crackled as Maddie tore off a piece.
Maddie dipped the bread into the soup and took a bite. The warmth spread through her, the taste of the broth comforting in a way she hadn’t expected. For the first time in a long while, she felt something very much like peace.
As they ate, Ernie curled up at her feet, his fur brushing against her legs. The storm intensified, the wind howling as the snow fell thicker and faster. The world outside was cold and wild, but inside, the warmth of the fire, the food, and Schatzi’s quiet companionship wrapped around Maddie like a much-needed hug.
“Maybe after we eat I should get some more firewood in,” Maddie offered.
“No need,” Schatzi said. “We’re well stocked.”
They went back to eating, and Maddie was fine with the silence. The bread and the soup were delicious, really hitting the spot. Since losing Jack, she hadn’t done much cooking. It was easier to heat up a premade meal.
Now she remembered why cooking was so much better. Aunt Schatzi’s lunch was as good as gourmet.
“So,” Schatzi said after a few moments, her tone more serious. “You’ve been keeping busy?”
Maddie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Busy wasn’t the right word. Surviving was closer to the truth. She had filled her days with as many tasks as possible, trying to keep her mind from wandering back to Jack and the gaping hole his absence had left. She wondered what Becca would say about all of that.
If she even remembered what it was like to stop moving for a moment, to feel the stillness.
Schatzi watched her, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, Christmas isn’t just about doing things. It’s about being present. About feeling the spirit of the holiday. You’ve got to let yourself feel it again. You’ve got to get back to feeling what you used to feel.”
Maddie swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
Schatzi reached across the table, her hand warm and dry as it settled on Maddie’s. “You’ll get there,” she said softly. “This house, these mountains, this land—they have a way of bringing you back.”
Outside, the wind howled and the snow swirled, but inside the house, surrounded by the comforting sounds of the crackling fire, the soothing aroma of fresh bread, and the quiet companionship of a fat cat and a familiar face, Maddie wondered if maybe Aunt Schatzi was right.
Maybe the mountains did have a way of bringing you back. But would it be enough to help her?