Christmas On Snowbird Mountain

“I can make you a half ham, half deer meat sandwich and put the two kinds of soup in small cups instead of bowls so you can have a taste of both for the same price. And I make a nice bean bread that goes well with soup.”

“Oh, sounds perfect.”

“It’ll be right up.”

“Can you also tell me how far it is to Sitting Dog?”

“You’re here.”

“But where’s the town?”

“You’re smack-dab in the middle of it. If you want a town, then Robbinsville, fifteen or twenty miles to the northeast, is the place to head. They’ve got, oh, maybe seven hundred folks.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a town.”

“Sugar, you’re in Graham County. We’ve got plenty of mountains, creeks and trees, but we’re way short on people. Only about eight thousand of us are crazy enough to live here.”

“In the whole county?”

“Yep. The land’s mostly government-owned national forest. We’re the only county in North Carolina that doesn’t even have a four-lane road.”

“I passed through some of the forest land. I went nearly fifty miles without seeing another car.”

“Which way did you come in?”

“From Tellico Plains, Tennessee, over the Cherohala Skyway.”

“Lord, girl! You took a chance in this weather. That’s a desolate trip this time of the year, and this early snow must’ve made the going even tougher. Some of those curves never get enough sun to melt the ice.”

“The scenery was worth it. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

“It is pretty.”

“Is there a motel close by?”

“No, sorry. We don’t get many tourists this late in the year. In warm weather we attract nature lovers who hike the back country, but they mostly camp out.”

“I imagine with this fresh snowfall everyone’s farther upstate at the ski resorts.”

“Probably. We don’t normally get our first snowfall for a couple more weeks, so I’m sure the skiers have headed up to Maggie Valley. But they’re missing a treat. These mountains are the place to be in winter, especially during the holidays.” She refilled the coffee of a man two seats down. “You only passing through?” she asked Susannah.

“I’m not sure yet. Do you have a bed-and-breakfast? Even a boardinghouse would do.”

“A couple B-and-Bs. And there’s a lodge, but they’re probably closed for the season and won’t open up again until late March or mid-April. When you’ve finished eating, you can borrow my phone book and call around. Maybe someone around here is open.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Several people sat down to order and the woman got busy filling orders. The venison she brought Susannah a few minutes later was delicious, the pumpkin and walnut soups interesting. The best part was the bread—simply out of this world. Susannah was glad she’d taken a chance on something different.

She was finishing her coffee when she felt a presence. She glanced to her side and found a young girl with huge brown eyes staring up at her.

“Hi,” Susannah said.

“Si yo,” the girl answered. Her front teeth on the top and bottom were missing, making her whistle slightly when she talked.

“I’m sorry. I don’t speak your language.”

“I said hello.”

“Oh, well, then si yo to you, too.”

The girl pointed to the cast that protruded from the left sleeve of Susannah’s sweater. “Did you hurt your arm?”

“I broke my wrist.”

“How?”

“Mm, I guess you could say I tried to fly and found out I wasn’t any good at it.”

Actually, the flying part had gone well. She’d jumped from the bridge, her chute had opened perfectly and she’d drifted down toward the landing area without problems. At the last second the wind had shifted. In an attempt to stay out of the water, Susannah had overcompensated and hit the rocks.

“Does it hurt?” the child asked.

“Not so much now, but it did in the beginning. The doctor put this on to make it better.” The girl kept staring at it, seemingly fascinated. “Would you like to see?”

She nodded.

Susannah turned on the stool and pushed up her sweater. The cast covered her hand, except for her fingers and thumb, and went up to below her elbow.

“It’s white. My friend Iva broke her arm last year and her thing was purple.”

“That’s because this one’s made out of plaster. Your friend Iva’s was probably made out of fiber-glass and those come in purple and other colors.”

“How come you didn’t get a pretty one?” She reached out and lightly rubbed her fingers over it.

“Because the pretty ones cost a lot more money and I was being frugal.”

“Fruit girl?”

“Frugal,” Susannah repeated with a smile. “That means I was trying not to spend too much money.”

“How come you don’t got any of your friends’ names on it?”

“Well, that’s a very good question.” And one Susannah didn’t know how to answer for a child. How did you explain to someone her age that you didn’t have any friends? Fortunately she didn’t have to.

“We printed our names on Iva’s,” the girl said, forging ahead. “I put mine right there.” She placed her index finger in the middle of Susannah’s forearm.

“That sounds pretty.”