Chapter 4
Chapter Four
T he snow had stopped falling by the time the afternoon sun began its slow descent behind the mountains, casting a soft golden light over the white-covered landscape. Maddie stood by the window, watching as the last rays of sunlight danced across the snow. It was breathtaking, the kind of beauty that could almost make her forget her troubles. Almost.
Maddie’s thoughts—some about herself, some about her aunt, but mostly about Hannah—were too tangled, too heavy to let her fully escape into the scenery.
Her phone buzzed on the table, jolting her out of her reverie. Becca’s name flashed on the screen, and Maddie hesitated, her stomach tightening at the thought of answering. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her sister—she did, for the most part—but every conversation with Becca lately seemed to leave her feeling more alone.
More like one of Becca’s obligations than someone Becca genuinely cared about. Not a great feeling to get from the person she’d been closest to growing up.
Becca had the perfect life, or at least it seemed that way from the outside. From her successful surgeon husband and her two accomplished sons to her beautiful house in the suburbs, Becca seemed to have it all.
Ever since Becca had married, there had been this distance between them. It had only gotten worse when Jack had passed. It was almost as if Becca couldn’t quite understand the grief Maddie carried. Or maybe Becca just didn’t have the time to understand. She was always busy, always rushing through their phone calls with promises of, “I’ll call you back when things settle down,” although that never seemed to happen.
Maddie glanced over at Schatzi, who was sitting by the fire, her knitting needles clicking softly as she worked. She could hear her aunt’s voice in her head, telling her to pick up the phone, that family was important, and that no matter how disconnected she felt from Becca, they needed each other. Maddie knew Schatzi was right, but still, she let the phone buzz until it stopped.
It was just too hard, trying to bridge that gap with Becca right now. Her sister lived in a world of precision and order, a life lived on a schedule where problems had solutions, and where grief was something to be managed and moved past. Maddie lived in a messy reality one day at a time, a place of loss where some wounds didn’t heal no matter how much time passed.
Maddie prayed many years went by before Becca had to learn for herself just how impossible it was to manage that kind of grief.
Schatzi must have noticed her hesitation. “Was that Becca?” she asked without looking up from her knitting.
“Yes,” Maddie replied softly, sinking into the chair across from her aunt but unable to make eye contact because she felt guilty. “I didn’t answer.”
“So I noticed.” Schatzi raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “She probably just wants to check in.”
“I know,” Maddie said, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. “But it’s hard talking to her sometimes. She doesn’t get what it’s like to lose the person who’s most important to you. To experience that kind of pain. She tries, but...” Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken words hanging between them.
Schatzi nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Your sister has her own way of dealing with things, you know that. She may not understand your pain, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care. She just comes at it a different way.”
Except, to Maddie, Becca’s way felt cold and indifferent. Maddie sighed. “I know. I just...I don’t know how to talk to her anymore. Everything feels so surface-level with us. Like we’re not even in the same world. Which, I guess, we’re not. She’s got this perfect life, and I have…whatever’s left of mine.”
“Well, you’re here now,” Schatzi said, her voice gentle but firm. “And that’s a start. Besides, it’s nearly Christmas. ’Tis the season for being understanding and forgiving.”
Maddie nodded, though the weight of her fractured relationship with Becca still pressed down on her. It was strange how distance—both physical and emotional—could grow between people who had once shared so much. Maddie knew she couldn’t blame Becca entirely for the gap between them. She had pulled away too, unable to let her sister in during the darkest moments after Jack’s death.
In Maddie’s defense, she hadn’t let anyone in. She’d closed herself off from everyone for a while. At the time, it had felt like the only way to deal with the pain she’d been in. Hide away and let herself grieve. Now she wondered about the wisdom of that method.
The sound of a vehicle engine approaching the house pulled Maddie out of her thoughts. She looked out the window and saw Sam’s old pickup making its way up the snow-covered driveway, Fargo’s head poking out the partially rolled down passenger window.
“He’s back,” Schatzi said with a knowing smile, glancing over at Maddie.
Maddie couldn’t help but smile too. There was something comforting about Sam’s presence. He had a quiet strength that reminded her of Jack in some ways—steady, dependable, the kind of person who showed up when you needed them, even if you didn’t ask.
A few minutes later, Sam knocked on the door, and Maddie got up to let him in. Fargo bounded in first, his tail wagging wildly as he acknowledged both women with enthusiastic sniffs, little nudges, and, in the case of Ernie, a soft woof of greeting.
“Hey,” Sam said, stamping snow off his boots as he stepped inside. “Just wanted to check in, see how you’re holding up with all this snow.”
“We’re doing fine, thanks to you,” Schatzi replied from her chair before looking at Maddie. “I think I mentioned Sam’s been keeping us stocked with firewood,” she explained to her niece.
“You did,” Maddie said, going back to her seat.
“I figured I’d bring some more up, just in case,” Sam said, his brown eyes meeting Maddie’s. “This weather can be unpredictable.”
Maddie smiled. “Thanks. We appreciate it.”
There was a moment of comfortable silence as Sam took off his gloves and warmed his hands by the fire. Fargo sat at Maddie’s feet, his head resting on her lap as she absentmindedly scratched behind his ears.
“How’s the road?” Schatzi asked, looking at Sam.
“Not too bad. Still pretty slick, but I’ve got chains on the tires, so it’s manageable.” Sam glanced out the window at the last light of day fading into dusk. “Looks like we’re in for more snow tonight, though. That time of year, I suppose.”
Schatzi nodded. “It is. Nothing to do but hunker down and wait it out.”
Maddie found herself watching Sam as he moved to stand by the window, his broad frame silhouetted against the soft glow of the firelight. There was a quiet ease about him that made her feel safe, even though they’d only just met. Maybe it was the way he interacted with Schatzi, the genuine care in his voice, or the obvious bond he had with Fargo, taking him everywhere.
Or maybe it was the simple fact that he showed up, that he was here, offering help without being asked.
It reminded Maddie of how things used to be with Jack—how he was always there, always reliable. She missed that kind of stability in her life. And in instances like this, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the sound of quiet conversation, she realized just how much she missed having someone to share these simple moments with.
Loneliness, especially around the holidays, was such a real thing. She often wondered how many others were out there feeling the same way she was.
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Schatzi offered, breaking the silence. “There’s plenty of chicken and rice casserole, and I’d feel better knowing you weren’t driving back in this mess.”
Sam hesitated, glancing at Maddie before replying. “I don’t want to impose. I was going to run into town, see what the specials were at the diner.”
“Nonsense,” Schatzi said, waving a hand. “You’re eating here, with us. It’s no imposition at all. Besides, we could use some good company. Of course, I’m referring to Fargo.”
Sam and Maddie both laughed, and Maddie found herself nodding in agreement. “We’d love to have you.”
Sam smiled, his eyes warm and kind. “Well, if you’re sure...”
“We’re sure,” Maddie said, feeling a strange sense of comfort settle over her. She wasn’t certain when exactly it had happened, but somewhere between the snowstorm and Sam’s quiet presence, she had started to feel a little less alone.
As they sat down to dinner, the conversation flowed easily, the warmth of the food and the fire creating a sense of coziness that Maddie hadn’t felt in a long time. Sam talked about his work on the cabin he was fixing up down the road, and Schatzi shared stories from her younger days, her sharp wit and dry humor keeping them both laughing.
Maddie listened, a smile tugging at her lips, but her thoughts occasionally drifted back to Becca. She wondered what her sister was doing right now—probably preparing for another holiday party or dealing with some last-minute crisis at work.
Their lives felt so different, like they were moving in opposite directions. And yet, Maddie couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, they needed each other more than ever.
Maybe when dinner was all over, she’d call Becca back. Maybe they’d find a way to bridge the distance that had grown between them. But for now, here in the warmth of Schatzi’s house, with Sam sitting across from her and the snow falling quietly outside, Maddie let herself be present. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to really be in the moment. To appreciate the people she was fortunate enough to share this meal with.
And that, she realized, was enough.