Chapter 5
Chapter Five
T he days after Hannah’s visit passed quietly, with the snow piling up higher around the mountain house and the winter air becoming more penetrating by the day. Maddie still hadn’t returned Becca’s call, her mind more interested in helping Hannah than reaching out to her non-understanding sister.
The isolation, which Maddie had once craved, now felt stifling at times. It wasn’t that she minded the solitude—she had come here to escape—but something about Hannah’s quiet pain, coupled with her own impossible-to-shake grief, left her feeling restless.
No matter what book she read, what puzzle she put together, what crossword she tried to solve, what Christmas movie she watched with Schatzi, Maddie couldn’t stop thinking about the girl, her eyes dark with untold stories, the weight she so obviously carried on her young shoulders.
It wasn’t until the afternoon light began to fade and the familiar chill of early evening settled over the house that Maddie decided to go for a walk. The snow compacted under her boots as she made her way down the path that wound through the forest behind Aunt Schatzi’s house.
Someone—Sam, most likely—had sprinkled rock salt over it, making the path navigable. A kindness Maddie was thankful for. The opportunity to get out was a welcome one.
The air was incredible. Fresh and clean, with that unmistakable crispness that only came with newly fallen snow. It was the smell of winter, the kind of cold that stung your lungs when you breathed too deeply, redolent with the scent of pine needles and smoke from distant chimneys.
Maddie stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat and breathed in deeply, her breath forming clouds in the frosty air. The woods were quiet, save for the occasional rustling of a bird or the soft creaking of snow-laden branches. It felt good to be outside, to stretch her legs and clear her head, even if the cold numbed her nose and cheeks.
Her thoughts, however, kept drifting back to Jack. The mountain air, the snow, the stillness—everything about this place reminded her of him and how much he’d loved it here. They had spent so many winters here together, before everything had changed. She could almost hear his voice, teasing her about how she always complained about being cold, even when bundled up in layers.
They had been happy here. But now, without him, the place felt haunted. Every corner of the house, every path through the woods, held a memory of him, like ghosts lingering just out of sight. The last Christmas they had spent together flashed in her mind—the two of them sitting by the fire in Schatzi’s home, Jack’s arm draped around her shoulders as they sipped hot cocoa, the smell of pine from the Christmas tree filling the room.
The sound of laughter echoed in her memory, Jack’s deep chuckle. She thought about how good it was just to be in his presence, how his company made everything all right.
But just as quickly as the memory came, it disappeared, leaving behind only the cold, awful ache in her chest that had become so familiar.
Maddie stopped walking, her breath coming in shallow puffs as she fought against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Why was the ache so bad sometimes? When would she get past feeling his way?
She bent down, scooping up a handful of snow and watching it crumble through her fingers. The cold was sharp against her skin, pulling her back to the present. But even as she stood there, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the snow-covered woods, the weight of the past clung to her, refusing to let go.
Just then, the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow reached her ears. Maddie straightened, wiping her hands on her coat as she turned to see Sam approaching, Fargo bounding through the snow beside him, kicking up drifts of white.
“Evening. Mind some company?” Sam called out, his voice carrying through the stillness of the woods.
Maddie smiled and shook her head as she got her gloves out and pulled them on. “Not at all. Are you the one who put salt down?”
“I am. Figured you or Schatzi might want to get out.” Sam joined her, his breath coming out in clouds as he slowed to a stop beside her. Fargo, ever the energetic dog, circled them excitedly before stopping to sniff at a twig sticking out of the snow.
“That was nice of you.”
Sam shrugged like it was no big deal and adjusted the collar of his coat. “You walk out here often?”
“Sometimes, but this is my first time this visit,” Maddie replied, her voice quieter than she’d intended. “It’s...peaceful.”
Sam nodded, looking around at the snow-covered trees, the branches heavy with the weight of winter, the shafts of light cast by the setting sun. “I like it out here too. Reminds me that the world keeps moving, even when everything feels like it’s standing still.”
Maddie glanced at him, catching the deeper meaning behind his words. She wasn’t the only one haunted by the past. Sam had lost his wife, and though she didn’t know the details, she could see the grief in his eyes, in the lines around his mouth, how it lingered just beneath the surface.
Grief had a way of leaving its mark on a person.
They stood in silence for a while, the only sound the occasional bark from Fargo as he explored the snowy landscape. The cold crept in, but Maddie didn’t mind. The quiet was comforting, and there was something about being with Sam that made the weight on her chest feel just a little lighter.
Maybe it was the shared history of sorrow.
“Schatzi mentioned that you lost your wife, so I’m assuming she told you I’m a widow.”
“She did.”
“Do you ever...” Maddie began, her voice hesitant. “Do you ever get used to it? The quiet, I mean. From being without them?”
Sam was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on a gap in the trees where the distant horizon was visible. The sun was sinking lower in the sky and painting the edges of the clouds gold. When he spoke, his voice was low and thoughtful.
“No,” he said finally. “You don’t get used to it. But you learn to live with it. Some days are easier than others. Some days...the quiet isn’t so bad. But there are days when it hits you out of nowhere, and all you want is to hear their voice again. To have one more conversation. One more moment.”
Boy, did Maddie feel that. She nodded, understanding more than she wanted to. She had spent the last few years learning how to live with the quiet, with the empty space that Jack had left behind. But some days, like today, the grief felt as fresh as it had the day she’d lost him.
“I think that’s what scares me,” Maddie admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “The idea that I’ll never stop missing him.”
Sam looked at her then, his brown eyes filled with a kind of quiet understanding. “You won’t,” he said gently. “But missing him doesn’t mean you can’t still find happiness. It just takes time.”
Maddie bit her lip, feeling the sting of tears threatening to rise. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone in a long time. She had learned how to keep her grief private, how to hide the pain behind a mask of strength. But standing here, in the middle of the snow-covered woods, with the cold biting at her skin and Sam’s quiet, steady presence beside her, she felt the walls she’d built around herself begin to fracture.
“Sometimes I wonder if I even remember how to be happy,” she confessed, her voice trembling as she fought her emotions.
Sam didn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze shifting back to the woods around them.
When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost lost in the cold air. “Happiness doesn’t have to be big, Maddie. It doesn’t have to be some grand thing. It can be a small thing—a walk in the snow, a cup of coffee in the morning, the way the fire crackles when you’re sitting near it. Sometimes, it’s just about finding the little things that remind you life is still worth living.”
Maddie swallowed hard, letting his words settle over her. She hadn’t thought about happiness in such a long time, hadn’t allowed herself to even consider it. Happiness after losing Jack felt traitorous, even though she knew Jack would want her to be happy. But maybe Sam was right. Maybe happiness didn’t have to be something she chased. Maybe it was something she could find in the quiet moments, in the small things.
“I’ll try to remember that,” she said softly, her breath coming out in a little breath of icy vapor.
Sam nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Good. Because you deserve it. We all do.”
They stood in silence for a few more minutes, the sky darkening around them as the sun dipped lower behind the mountains. Fargo trotted over, his nose wet and cold as he nudged Maddie’s hand, and she scratched behind his ears, wishing she could feel the softness of his fur, but her gloves prevented that.
Sam cleared his throat. “I should probably get back before it gets too dark. But if you ever want company on one of these walks...”
Maddie smiled, the warmth of his offer chasing away some of the lingering chill. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Sam and Fargo made their way back down the path, Maddie stood still for a few more moments, watching as their figures disappeared into the trees. The cold had seeped deep into her bones, but she didn’t feel as alone as she had before.
Turning to head back to the house, Maddie let herself breathe in the peacefulness of the mountains. The snow crunched beneath her boots, the air carried the aroma of someone’s delicious dinner being cooked nearby, and, off in the distance, an owl hooted.
She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, Maddie felt like maybe, just maybe, there was room for something more in her life—something beyond the grief, beyond the loss.
There had to be, because what kind of existence was she facing otherwise? As she made her way back to Aunt Schatzi’s warm, welcoming house, she let herself hope while also reconsidering her reluctance to call Becca.