Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
T he days following Schatzi’s fall passed in a quiet rhythm. The house, warmed by the crackling fire and filled with the comforting scent of simmering soups and plenty of tea, became a cocoon of healing.
Hannah came and went, quieter and more withdrawn than ever, although she’d taken a moment to ask if Schatzi needed anything extra, then said she hoped Schatzi healed up fast.
Maddie had slipped into the role of caregiver seamlessly, ensuring Schatzi rested as much as possible, even though Schatzi complained constantly about being “babied.”
Despite Schatzi’s protests, Maddie kept her aunt in that armchair as much as she could, fluffing pillows and fetching blankets, even bringing her a footstool to rest her feet on. Maddie took over Ernie’s care, too. Feeding him, changing his water, making sure his litter box was clean. She didn’t mind any of it, because it was all for Schatzi.
Schatzi, on the other hand, grumbled, mostly about how frustrated she was not to be able to knit, but there was a hint of gratitude in her blue eyes.
Her stubbornness couldn’t entirely mask her pain or the relief she felt in being looked after. Even Ernie seemed to sense it. The orange tabby rarely left Schatzi’s lap, curling up like a sentry, keeping her company as the fire crackled nearby.
“Maddie, I’m not made of glass,” Schatzi muttered one afternoon, wincing as she shifted in the chair. “You’ve already done enough fussing for a dozen winters.”
Maddie, chopping vegetables for soup, glanced over her shoulder. “It’s not fussing. It’s called caring.”
Schatzi raised a brow. “Same thing, isn’t it?”
“Not when it’s you,” Maddie replied with a grin, focusing on the knife and the rhythmic chop against the wooden board as she finished up the carrots.
Outside, the snow still blanketed the world in silence, but the skies had cleared, revealing a deep blue above the treetops. Maddie’s world had felt like that for so long—endless storms, then a stillness that left behind the same cold.
The house, though, was slowly thawing something in her. The warmth of the fire, the closeness of her aunt, the new understanding with Becca, and even Sam’s quiet presence in her life had started to melt the frost that had settled in her heart.
Just as Maddie dropped the vegetables into the pot, she heard the familiar sound of boots on snow. Her heart gave an unexpected flutter.
Over the past few days, Sam had checked in regularly, making sure they had enough firewood, offering to help with errands, bringing them some groceries, and generally giving Maddie more reasons to appreciate his steady, kind nature. Fargo was usually with him, trotting along like Sam’s shadow, ready to curl up by the fire or nudge Maddie’s hand for a pat.
“Sam’s here,” Schatzi announced from her chair as the knock sounded on the door.
“I heard him.” Maddie quickly wiped her hands on a towel and went to open the door, the cold air rushing in along with Sam and Fargo. Sam’s cheeks were red from the cold, but his smile was as warm as ever.
“Morning,” he said, glancing between Maddie and Schatzi. “Thought I’d stop by, see if you ladies need anything before I head into town.”
Maddie returned his smile. “You’re too good to us, Sam.”
Schatzi made a huffing sound from her chair. “He’s good to me ,” she corrected with a wink. “He just knows you’re stubborn and won’t ask for help.”
Maddie rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the truth of it. Asking for help had never been easy for her, especially after Jack. She had become so used to handling everything on her own that accepting help felt like admitting a weakness.
Which was probably its own weakness.
Fargo wandered over to Schatzi’s chair and rested his head on her lap, his tail wagging lazily. He sniffed at Ernie. Ernie’s head came up and he gave the dog a serious look.
“It’s all right, boys. You’ve known each other too long to get uppity now.” Schatzi chuckled and patted Fargo on the head, her fingers trailing through his soft fur.
“How are you feeling today?” Sam asked Schatzi, his gaze assessing as he glanced at her arm in the sling.
“Like I’m being held prisoner,” Schatzi replied, though her tone was light. “Maddie’s determined to keep me tethered to this chair for the rest of the winter.”
“You need to rest, Aunt Schatzi,” Maddie said, returning to the stove to stir the pot. The smell of chicken and vegetables had just started to fill the kitchen, making the house feel cozier. She still had to add a cup of barley. She planned to make biscuits for their lunch, too. “The doctor said no heavy lifting.”
“That doctor’s never met a woman who spent seventy-eighty years in these mountains,” Schatzi muttered. “Heavy lifting is in our blood.”
Sam chuckled softly as he added a little wood to the fire, shaking his head, no doubt at the two of them bantering. His presence had a way of balancing things, of making the house feel more settled. Maddie found herself increasingly grateful for his quiet company.
“Well, if you need any more supplies, I’m happy to pick them up while I’m in town,” Sam said, his brown eyes shifting to meet Maddie’s. “Just give me a list.”
“Thank you,” Maddie replied, her heart warming at his offer as she lowered the temperature on the stove. “I’ll make sure we’re stocked up before the next snow hits.”
Sam gave a small nod, then knelt down to pet Fargo, who’d laid down by Schatzi’s feet, perfectly positioned so that Ernie’s tail swished over his head. As Sam ruffled the dog’s fur, something shifted in his expression—something a bit more serious.
“You know,” Sam said, looking up at Maddie, “I ran into Bill, Hannah’s dad, in town yesterday.”
Maddie turned away from the stove, her brow furrowing at the mention of the closed-off teenager. Hannah, with her quiet demeanor and guarded eyes, had been on Maddie’s mind since the girl’s last visit. There was something more going on with the girl, something Maddie couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Her dad?” Maddie asked as she took a few steps toward the living room. “How’s he doing?”
Sam gave Fargo one more scratch, then stood up. “He looked…rough, to be honest. Exhausted, mostly. Said he’s been working long hours, trying to keep up with things. He can’t be home much.”
“That poor child,” Schatzi muttered, shaking her head. “She’s practically raising herself.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about her,” Maddie admitted, resting her hand on the back of the chair across from Schatzi. “She hardly talks when she’s here, but there’s something not right. You can just tell. I can’t help but worry about her.”
“She’s holding something back, that’s for sure,” Sam said, his voice thoughtful. “I’ve seen her around town a few times. She keeps to herself, doesn’t talk to anyone. Barely makes eye contact most of the time.”
Maddie felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She had been in Hannah’s shoes before, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders without knowing how to ask for help. It was the same knot she had carried after Jack died. The same knot she still felt at times.
“I’ll try talking to her next time she’s here, which I think is tomorrow,” Maddie said quietly. “Maybe she just needs someone to listen.”
Schatzi glanced at Maddie, her expression softening. “You’re good at that, you know. Listening.”
Maddie smiled faintly, though there was a pang in her chest. Listening wasn’t always enough. Sometimes, a person had to act.
The next day, it started snowing again. Lightly. Not nearly enough to keep Hannah away. She showed up as usual, her dark hair hidden beneath a knit beanie, her eyes downcast as she shrugged off her coat. Maddie was in the kitchen, prepping a small roast that would be their dinner, while Schatzi dozed by the fire. Ernie, ever watchful, was curled up in a ball on Schatzi’s lap.
“Hey, Hannah,” Maddie greeted, keeping her tone light and casual. “Glad you could make it.”
Hannah muttered a response, her eyes darting briefly toward Maddie, then to Schatzi, who’d woken up at the sound of the door. “Feeling any better?”
“About the same,” Schatzi answered.
With a nod, Hannah got to work, busying herself with the broom, sweeping the wide wood floorboards with almost mechanical movements.
Maddie chopped up some veggies to go along with the roast, the rhythmic sound of the knife slicing the potatoes into chunks filling the quiet. She kept glancing at Hannah, trying to find an opening, a way to break through the wall the girl had built around herself.
“Hannah,” Maddie said after a few minutes, setting the knife down and wiping her hands on a towel. “Can I ask you something?”
Hannah’s shoulders stiffened slightly, but she didn’t stop sweeping. “What?”
Maddie stepped closer, keeping her voice soft. “Are you okay? I mean, really okay? You seem like something’s bothering you and I just want you to know that if you need to talk to someone…”
Hannah stopped sweeping, the broom frozen mid-motion. She didn’t turn around, didn’t meet Maddie’s eyes, but the tension in her body was palpable. For several seconds, she didn’t say anything, and Maddie was about to retreat, thinking she had pushed too far.
Then, in a voice so quiet Maddie almost didn’t hear it, Hannah whispered, “No. I’m not okay.”
Maddie’s heart twisted. She took a tentative step closer, her voice gentle. “Do you want to talk about it? People tell me I’m pretty good at listening.”
Hannah was silent for another long moment, her shoulders rigid. Slowly, she turned around, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I’m...pregnant,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Maddie’s breath caught in her throat. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the girl’s confession. A confession Maddie wouldn’t have guessed in a hundred years.
Hannah’s face crumpled, and as she looked down, tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do,” she choked out. “I don’t want to tell my dad. I can’t. He’s barely home, and when he is, he’s just angry. When he finds out about this, he will freak out.”
Maddie’s heart ached for the girl standing in front of her—so young, so scared, and so alone. She felt a familiar tug of grief, remembering how often she had felt lost after Jack died, not knowing where to turn or who to lean on.
Without thinking, Maddie stepped forward and gently wrapped her arms around Hannah. The girl stiffened at first, but then she crumpled into Maddie’s embrace, her sobs shaking her small frame.
“It’s going to be okay,” Maddie whispered, stroking her hair. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
For a long time, they stood there, the quiet of the house wrapping around them as Hannah cried into Maddie’s shoulder. Ernie padded over, weaving between their legs as if sensing the significance of what was happening and wanting to help.
When Hannah’s sobs finally subsided, Maddie pulled back slightly, holding the girl at arm’s length. “We’ll figure this out together, okay?”
“Why? You don’t even know me.”
“I know what it’s like to feel alone and scared and not know what to do. And we’re both women, so we’ve got that going for us. But mostly, you need help, and I want to do that for you.”
Hannah wiped at her tear-streaked face, her eyes wide and scared. “How? What if...” A soft sob snuck out. “What if my dad kicks me out?”
Maddie’s heart squeezed. “You can stay here, with Schatzi and me, as long as you need. We’ll talk to your dad when you’re ready, but right now, we just need to take things one step at a time. You’re not alone, Hannah. I’m here. And Schatzi is here.”
Maddie knew her aunt well enough to know that was true.
Hannah nodded, though the fear was still there in her eyes. But Maddie could see something else, too—something she hadn’t seen before. Trust. It might be hesitant, but it was there.
And in that moment, as the fire crackled in the hearth and the snow fell softly outside, Maddie took comfort in being able to offer that to another person. To someone who was hurting in their own way.
There was something about the instant that made her think they might all be able to help each other heal.