“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.
Chapter Four
The 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 twoaccomplished 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.”
