Chapter 3
Chapter Three
M ore snow had fallen overnight, piling up nearly another six inches and covering the landscape in an unbroken blanket of white. The world beyond the windows of Aunt Schatzi’s house looked like a snow globe that hadn’t yet been shaken—peaceful, pristine, untouched.
Maddie sat at the kitchen table, cradling a warm mug in her hands. The smell of fresh coffee and the breakfast casserole in the oven swirled around her, grounding her in the stillness of the moment as she gazed out at the serene winter wonderland. The warmth from the mug seeped into her palms, offering a brief reprieve from the chill that seemed to linger at the edges of the house, despite the constant fire in the hearth.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Schatzi said from across the table, breaking the silence. She was wrapped in a thick knit shawl, her hands curled around a steaming cup. The lines on her face were softer in the morning light, though her eyes sparkled with the sharpness that had always defined her.
She’d stopped using her cane. Apparently, that only came out when her arthritis was particularly bad.
Maddie nodded. “It really is. There’s something about the mountains, isn’t there? Even the quiet feels...different. Bigger, somehow.”
“The air’s better, I’ll tell you that much. It’s why I’ve stayed all these years,” Schatzi replied, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You can feel the history here. Every winter storm, every gust of wind—it’s all woven into the land. It’s good for the soul. Helps you see things clearly. Reminds you of what’s important.”
Schatzi sipped her coffee. “And what’s not.”
Maddie wasn’t sure if she had reached the point of seeing things clearly or knowing what was and wasn’t important, but she could admit there was something comforting about the isolation of the mountains. The grief that clung to her felt a little less suffocating in this place.
The ache of Jack’s absence remained with her, as constant as her own heartbeat, but it was muted here, like the sharp edges had been worn down by the rhythm of nature and the warmth of Schatzi’s company.
Maybe it was all the open space too. The endless sky and the towering mountains wherever she looked. Gave her a feeling she’d never had in the city. Like she could finally breathe. Like a new part of her had room to open up.
Schatzi shifted in her chair, wincing slightly as she adjusted her shoulder. “Stupid arthritis,” she muttered. Then louder, “Don’t let me forget. Hannah’s coming by today.”
“Hannah?” Maddie asked, setting her coffee down.
Schatzi nodded. “She comes once a week or so to help with cleaning and errands. Good worker, nice enough girl, but doesn’t say much. Keeps to herself. Suppose most teenagers are like that these days.”
“Does she live nearby?” Maddie raised an eyebrow, surprised that Schatzi hadn’t mentioned Hannah before.
“Not too far. She walks here. I’m sure her father would drive her, but he works in town, and he’s hardly ever around. Hannah’s been doing her best, but you can tell she’s struggling a bit. Poor girl lost her mother last year. She’s only sixteen and already carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.”
Maddie felt a pang of sympathy in her chest at Schatzi’s words. Sixteen was far too young to lose a parent, far too young to bear that kind of pain. Maddie understood that all too well. She had been older when she lost Jack, but grief didn’t care about age—it hollowed you out just the same.
“Do you talk to her about it?” Maddie asked quietly.
“I’ve tried,” Schatzi said with a sigh. “But she’s a tough one to reach. Comes in, does her work, and leaves. Doesn’t say much more than she has to.”
A few minutes later, there was a quick knock at the door. Maddie glanced at Schatzi, who nodded. “Probably her.”
Maddie got up to answer it.
When she opened the door, the cold air rushed in, raising goosebumps on her skin. Standing in the doorway was a thin, dark-haired girl, her features partially obscured by the thick gray scarf wrapped around her face. She had wide brown eyes, and her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold. An army-green canvas bag hung from her shoulder, and her expression was neutral, almost bored.
“Hi. You must be Hannah,” Maddie said, offering a small smile.
Hannah nodded once, her gaze shifting briefly to Maddie before darting away. “Is Schatzi here?”
“She’s in the kitchen,” Maddie replied, stepping aside to let her in. “Come on in. It’s freezing out there.”
Hannah stepped inside, carefully wiping the snow from her boots before dropping her bag against the wall, then shrugging off her jacket and scarf and hanging them up.
Beneath the coat, she wore a navy hoodie that had both bleach spots and stains on it, looking very much like it had seen better days. She didn’t say anything else as she made her way toward the kitchen, her posture stiff and her movements mechanical, like she was just going through the motions.
“Morning, Hannah,” Schatzi called out from her seat, giving the girl a warm smile. “You remember I mentioned my niece, Maddie?”
Hannah glanced at Maddie again, her expression unreadable. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I remember.” Her gaze moved lower to where Ernie was sitting by Schatzi’s feet. “Hey, Ern.”
He went right on licking his foot, indifferent to the greeting.
Maddie watched as Hannah silently gathered the cleaning supplies from under the sink. There was something so guarded about her, like she was deliberately keeping the world at arm’s length. Her movements were small and very careful, as though she was determined to stay invisible, to avoid any unnecessary interaction.
Maddie wanted to say something to break through the girl’s wall of silence, to reach out to someone who was clearly struggling, but she wasn’t sure where to start. Or if the girl would even be receptive.
Deciding probably not, Maddie instead busied herself by clearing the breakfast dishes and loading the dishwasher. Hannah moved around the room and Maddie with practiced efficiency, her face blank, her actions precise, but without any real energy behind them.
“Everything okay with you?” Schatzi asked after a few minutes, her voice gentle, but probing. “How’s your father?”
Hannah shrugged, her back still turned as she wiped down the countertops. “Same as usual. Dad’s working.”
Schatzi sighed softly but didn’t push any further. Maddie could see the concern etched on her aunt’s face, but it was clear that Hannah wasn’t in the mood for conversation. From the looks of her, that mood wasn’t something she was ever in. She seemed determined to get her work done and leave
After a while, Schatzi stood up from her chair and headed toward the living room, Ernie trailing lazily behind. “I’ll be in here if you need me,” she called over her shoulder, leaving Maddie and Hannah alone in the kitchen.
The silence that followed was awkward, heavy and thick. Hannah moved from task to task with robotic precision. Maddie wanted to say something, anything, to reach out to the girl who reminded her so much of herself at that age—guarded, withdrawn, and carrying a weight that felt too heavy for her years.
Such was the plight of most teenage girls, but one without a mother must be feeling it even more.
“Do you need any help?” Maddie finally asked, hoping to break the silence.
Hannah glanced at her, her expression unreadable. “No. I’m fine.”
Maddie bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. She had been a teenage girl once, after all, and knew that pushing too hard wouldn’t get her anywhere. But the protective instincts she had learned over the years—first with Jack, and now with Schatzi—were kicking in. She didn’t want to sit by and let Hannah stay closed off, but she also didn’t want to scare her away.
After a few more minutes of awkward silence, Maddie tried again. “How long have you been helping Aunt Schatzi?”
“A few months,” Hannah replied curtly, still not meeting Maddie’s eyes.
“I’m sure she appreciates it. I know I do,” Maddie said, trying to sound casual.
Hannah shrugged again, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation. As if to underline that, she put in earbuds, effectively ending any hope of more discussion.
Maddie sighed to herself, feeling like she was hitting a brick wall. She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied the girl. Hannah moved through the kitchen like a ghost, efficient but without energy, like she was somewhere far away in her mind. A sense of sadness clung to her, though she hid it well behind a mask of indifference.
When the clock on the wall eventually chimed noon, Hannah grabbed her coat and bag, clearly ready to leave. Schatzi reappeared in the doorway, smiling at the girl and handing her some folded paper money.
“You take care now, Hannah. Same time next week?” Schatzi asked, her voice filled with motherly concern.
Hannah took the money and pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. “Yeah. See you next week.”
“Stay warm out there,” Schatzi said.
Hannah gave a slight nod, avoiding eye contact as she slipped out the door. The cold air rushed in again, and then she was gone, swallowed up by the winter landscape.
Maddie stared after her, a heaviness settling in her chest. “She’s really struggling, isn’t she. Very closed down.”
Schatzi sighed, sitting back down at the kitchen table. “She is. Lost her mother, and her father’s hardly ever home. Practically a stranger to her now. She doesn’t talk about it, though. Just comes in, does her work, and leaves.”
“I saw that,” Maddie said, shaking her head. “It’s hard enough being a teenager. Losing a parent on top of that...I can’t even imagine.”
Schatzi looked at her niece, her expression soft but thoughtful. “You know, you could be good for her, Maddie. She needs someone who understands.”
Maddie looked down at her hands, feeling the familiar pang of her own grief. She hadn’t expected to come here and find herself drawn into someone else’s pain. She had her own to deal with, her own wounds to heal. But Schatzi was right. Hannah needed someone. That was clear. Maybe Maddie wasn’t the perfect person for the job, but she couldn’t just ignore the girl’s suffering.
“I’ll try,” Maddie said quietly, more to herself than to Schatzi.
The snow continued to fall outside, soft and unrelenting, and the house grew quieter as the afternoon wore on. But the thought of Hannah lingered in Maddie’s mind, a reminder once again that grief, no matter how different, no matter what the source, had a way of connecting people.
Whether they wanted it to or not.