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.
Chapter Five
The 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—shehadcome 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 thatthe 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.
