Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
T he day of Christmas Eve arrived quietly, blanketing the mountain house in a stillness that felt both peaceful and heavy. Snow had once again fallen through the night, covering the yard in a thick white layer.
Maddie and Schatzi had both gotten up late, had a simple breakfast of cinnamon toast, and spent most of the day watching old Christmas movies. Lunch had been soup left over from the day before. Keeping things easy seemed to be the theme of the day.
Now the light was starting to fade outside. A cup of tea in hand, Maddie found herself standing at the kitchen window, watching the flakes continue to drift down. The world outside looked untouched, serene, as if it had paused to allow the holiday to settle in gently.
Inside, the warmth of the house was steady and comforting, though there was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before. Maddie could feel it—something unresolved, like unfinished business hanging over the festive mood. Despite the crackling fire and the smell of pine from the small Christmas tree she’d set up in the corner, there was a sense of anticipation.
Maddie wasn’t sure what they were waiting for. Perhaps it was the fact that, for her, this was another Christmas without Jack—or maybe it was the lingering worries about Hannah’s future. Regardless, Maddie couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight would be important, a turning point for all of them.
She turned away from the window and busied herself in the kitchen, preparing the Christmas Eve dinner she and Schatzi had planned earlier in the week. It was nothing too over the top—a small turkey to roast, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potato biscuits—just the usual Christmas fare.
But it was enough to make the house smell like home. Maddie hummed softly to herself as she did the prep of peeling potatoes, the rhythm of the task calming her nerves.
In the living room, Schatzi sat in her usual chair, her knitting needles clicking softly as she worked on a scarf for Hannah.
Despite the sling, Schatzi had insisted on taking up her knitting again. She said it was her way of keeping her hands busy, of doing something productive while she recovered. Maddie had given up trying to stop her.
Hannah had come over early to see if there was anything that needed doing. There hadn’t been, so now she sat on the sofa, curled up with a blanket and a mug of tea. She had been coming over more frequently, finding solace in the warmth of Schatzi’s house, though she still hadn’t said much about what was going on with her father.
Maddie knew the situation wasn’t fully resolved. According to Sam, who was outside getting firewood, Hannah’s father had been quiet since their conversation, processing everything in his own time. Maddie was just grateful that he hadn’t kicked Hannah out or refused to speak to her.
Fargo lay at Hannah’s feet, his brown fur a comforting presence as he snored faintly, oblivious to the tension in the room. Maddie smiled at the sight of him, thankful for the quiet companionship he provided. Sam had come for dinner but arrived early to see what needed to be done. He’d brought a delicious-looking pumpkin roll as his contribution, bought from a great little bakery in town.
As if he needed to contribute anything. He’d already shoveled the walkways and made a path to the mailbox. Just his presence brought Maddie a sense of relief. His steadfastness had become something she looked forward to more than she was willing to admit.
The door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air, and Maddie turned to see Sam stepping inside, a dusting of snow on his coat and hat. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and he carried a load of firewood in one arm.
“Hey,” he said, his voice warm as he stepped out of his boots. “Got some wood but might bring some more in, in case this storm keeps up through the night.”
“Thanks, Sam,” Maddie said, smiling as she wiped her hands on a towel. “I think we’ll be set for the whole winter at this rate.”
He chuckled, setting the firewood down by the hearth, then going outside for one more bundle. When that was taken care of, he hung up his coat and came to sit in the other chair near the fire.
Fargo immediately perked up, trotting over to greet Sam with a wagging tail and a happy bark. Sam gave the dog a good scratch behind the ears, then turned to Schatzi and Hannah, his smile bright.
“How’s everyone holding up?” he asked, his gaze lingering on Hannah.
Schatzi shrugged her good shoulder. “Oh, you know me. Just sitting here pretending I have a perfectly good arm underneath this blasted sling.”
Maddie smiled, but her attention was on Hannah, who had pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. The girl had been quieter than usual all day, her mood subdued despite the holiday. Maddie wondered if she was thinking about her mother because the holiday had brought back so many memories that were too hard to face. That was something Maddie could certainly understand.
“I’m fine,” Hannah murmured, though her eyes were downcast. “Just...thinking, you know?”
Sam glanced at Maddie, who gave him a small nod of understanding. They both knew Hannah was still struggling, but neither wanted to make her talk about it if she wasn’t ready. It seemed like the best thing they could offer her was space. And the understanding that she wasn’t alone.
“Well,” Sam said, “if you ever need to talk, you know we’re here to listen. And where to find us.”
Hannah nodded, her expression remained tense, and Maddie could see the weight of everything she’d been carrying. It wasn’t fair, she thought, that someone so young had to bear so much.
There was a little small-talk during dinner, and lots of compliments on the food, but otherwise, it was pretty quiet, the clink of forks against plates filling the silence between bites. Maddie had worked hard to make the meal feel special, but it was clear that everyone was caught up in their own thoughts. She’d be lying if she said that wasn’t a disappointment, but what could she do? She didn’t want to say anything. That wasn’t going to help.
Even Schatzi, usually so full of energy and quips, seemed quieter tonight, her gaze drifting to Hannah every now and then as if trying to gauge how the girl was feeling.
Sam sat across from Maddie, his presence as welcome as always, although he, too, seemed preoccupied. Maddie couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze occasionally wandered in her direction with a certain thoughtfulness, as though he were trying to figure out what was going on in her head.
She wondered if he could sense her unease—if he knew that tonight, of all nights, felt weighted by memories in a way she hadn’t expected.
As they finished dinner and moved to the living room for dessert, the fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting a soft glow over the room. Despite having one arm in a sling, Schatzi, always determined to make Christmas special, had pulled out a few decorations from the attic earlier in the week. Though they were sparse, the small tree in the corner sparkled with twinkling lights, a few red and gold balls, and a small gold star on top.
Schatzi settled into her chair, moving Ernie over enough to make room for herself. He looked a little put out, but went back to sleep after a second.
Maddie sliced up the pumpkin roll and plated it. With Hannah’s help, they handed out the dessert and mugs of hot chocolate garnished with little marshmallows as they all sat down by the fire. For a few moments, the quiet warmth of the room soothed the tension she’d been feeling all day.
They ate their dessert, which was the perfect combination of pumpkin and cake with plenty of whipped filling, and watched the fire. When they were done, Maddie gathered up the plates and took them into the kitchen.
As she sat back down, Hannah spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I miss her,” she said, staring into her mug, her voice trembling. “I miss my mom.”
The room went still. Maddie’s heart clamped down, the ache so familiar, and she could see Schatzi shift in her chair, her eyes going tender with sympathy. Sam remained quiet, his gaze steady on Hannah.
“I know,” Schatzi said softly, her gaze focused on the fire, her words framed with understanding. “I miss her too.”
Hannah blinked, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up at Schatzi, her lip trembling. “It just doesn’t feel right. Christmas, I mean. It’s not the same without her.”
Maddie’s throat tightened, and she set her mug down on the coffee table, moving to sit closer to Hannah on the sofa. She didn’t say anything at first, just wrapped her arms around the girl and pulled her into a hug.
Hannah stiffened briefly, as if surprised by the gesture, then she melted into Maddie’s embrace, her body shaking with quiet sobs.
“I know, sweetheart,” Maddie whispered, stroking her hair gently. “I know it doesn’t feel the same. But you’re not alone. We’re all here with you. And your mom is here in spirit, I know she is.”
Hannah nodded, burying her face in Maddie’s shoulder as she cried softly. Schatzi watched from her chair, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears, and even Sam looked affected by the raw emotion in the room. He sat quietly, his eyes never leaving Hannah as she released the pain she had been holding in for so long.
Fargo, sensitive in that way only dogs knew how to be, came over and laid his head on Hannah’s knees.
In typical cat form, Ernie stayed curled up against Schatzi leg, indifferent to everything going on around him.
After a while, Hannah’s sobs quieted, and she pulled back from Maddie, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to ruin Christmas.”
“Don’t be silly. You didn’t ruin anything,” Schatzi said firmly, her voice filled with love and a tiny bit of amusement. “This is part of Christmas too. A big part. Remembering. Grieving. Reminiscing. Storytelling. Those are all things we do around certain dates that bring to mind all the loved ones who’ve gone before us. It’s part of life. It’s part of being human.”
Hannah sniffled, nodding as she glanced around the room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, the tree lights twinkling in the corner, and for the first time that night, a small smile tugged at her lips.
“I just...wish she were here,” Hannah whispered.
“I know,” Maddie said quietly. “But I think, in a way, she is. She’s with you, Hannah. In your memories. In the way you think of her. That doesn’t go away. Just like how she’s a part of you. And a part of that baby you’re carrying.”
Hannah looked at Maddie, her eyes still watery but filled with something Maddie hadn’t seen before—acceptance. It wasn’t perfect, and the pain would never fully leave, but Maddie could see that Hannah was beginning to understand that grief didn’t mean the end of everything. It was something they all carried, but it didn’t have to keep them from living.
Schatzi broke the heavy silence with a small, warm smile. “Well, now that we’ve had a good cry, who’s up for some Christmas carols?”
Hannah let out a light, watery laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can sing right now.”
“That’s all right,” Schatzi said with a wink. “I’ll sing enough for both of us.”
Maddie smiled, her heart swelling with warmth as Schatzi began with Silent Night , her voice soft but steady. Maddie picked up the tune, and Sam surprised her by joining in, his deep voice adding a comforting layer to the melody, and soon, the room was filled with the quiet sound of voices raised in song.
Maddie leaned back against the sofa, her arm still around Hannah’s shoulders, and for the first time since the day had begun, she felt the tension leave her body. The evening had been hard, harder than she had anticipated, but as she sat there, surrounded by people who cared for one another, she realized that it hadn’t been a bad night after all.
It had been real, raw, and filled with the kind of love that could only come from facing the hardest truths together. They were blessed to have Schatzi’s years of wisdom and experience.
And as the snow continued to drift down outside, Schatzi began to tell a story about Sherryl, Hannah’s mother, a funny tale about a bingo night at the church hall that soon had them all laughing.
Sam chimed in with how Sherryl used to make him his favorite butterscotch chip cookies on his birthday, which got another story out of Schatzi, this time about how Sherryl had organized a bachelor auction to raise money for the firehouse.
Laughing at Schatzi’s retelling, Maddie knew that this Christmas, though different from any she’d ever known, was exactly what she needed.