Page 35 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
Later that night, sitting at his kitchen table, Nate spread out his notes and the photocopy of the letter they’d found in the post office. His laptop screen lit brightly against the dark, a half-empty mug of coffee cooling beside him.
Ruthie’s words echoed in his head.I sang O Holy Night three times.
He couldn’t shake that image. Something about that night, about Henry Bell not showing up, didn’t sit right.
He dug deeper, emailing an old buddy who had the technical skills and access to search old archives that might result in something helpful. He hated waiting for answers he could almost see.
By midnight, his friend had come through, and Nate had three new pieces of the puzzle:
1.An article from the New York Times, confirming Henry Bell’s byline and listing him as a staff reporter in 1964, and the clipping of the railroad story he’d been writing when he met Ruthie that ran on December 22nd.
2.A scan of an unclaimed personal effects list for Henry Bellfrom the La Crosse Hotel six-week stay in the registry dated December 27, 1964, including a receipt from Harper’s Jewelry and some articles of clothing.
3.The Police Blotter recap printed the week of December 27 in the South Hill Enterprise 1964, noting the number of accidents during the storm, and one entry that had to be Henry Bell.
Nate continued to scan the police blotter recap until one held his attention. He blinked and re-read it twice.
Unidentified Man Found Near La Crosse Hotel: Early Sunday morning, Officer J.T. Collins responded to a call regarding an unconscious man discovered along the rail line behind the La Crosse Hotel. The man, believed to be in his early thirties, was suffering from exposure and transported by ambulance to Richmond General Hospital. Hecarried no identification, only a pocket notebook and a gold pen. Anyone with information is asked to contact the Sheriff’s Office.
Nate sat back, the air in the room suddenly heavier. “Son of a gun,” he murmured.
If Henry went to the hospital and then was sent home, this would at least prove he hadn’t intentionally avoided meeting up with Ruthie that night. Nate rubbed a hand over his jaw, the realization hitting hard. Ruthie had waited under the dogwood, believing he’d left her behind.
But Henry had tried to keep his promise.
He opened his phone and typed a message before he could overthink it:
NATE: Got some new dots worth connecting. Meet tomorrow after cookie judging?
Within seconds, his screen lit up. Tension eased in him just enough for a grin.
Outside, South Hill glittered under the winter sky, the lamppost lights reflecting off snow-dusted roofs. From the outside, it looked like any other small town in December. Peaceful, and picture-perfect.
But under all that sparkle, Nate knew better. This town was full of tangled cords, half-buried secrets, and the kind of hope that refused to die quietly.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Thenext morning, Hannah Leigh had one hand on her phone opening her calendar app and the other wrapped around a Bringleton’s mega cocoa. Her nerves as frayed as the bow hanging from the Chamber’s office wreath. Underneath all of South Hill’s holiday sparkle, things weren’t adding up.
The visit with Ruthie the day before was still rattling around in her head like a sleigh bell without a clacker. And then there was that block letter note.
When she stepped back into the office and spotted Birdie perched there like a holiday-themed gargoyle, the present rolled in. Birdie was having way too much fun with all of this, and that made Hannah Leigh half-wonder if the old bird may have written the note.
“I brought pralines.” Birdie offered a tin shaped like Santa’s sleigh.
“That’s the reason you came by?”
“I was across the way when I saw your aunt’s car.” She scrounged around in her purse. “Oh! And look what I found in my attic.” She pulled out an old, yellowed newspaper clipping. The photo was blurry, but unmistakably Ruthie Danvers. She had to have been in her twenties, standing under the dogwood tree with a man who looked suspiciously like Henry Bell. The story described a family welcoming an out-of-towner at Thanksgiving. Apparently, Henry Bell spent the holiday with the Danvers family.
“Where did you get this?” Hannah Leigh asked.
“Like I said. My attic. My daddy saved every newspaper he ever touched. Didn’t throw out a scrap of anything except his back. I had this moment where I figured I should research the papers around that time. It was Thanksgiving week that ran.” Birdie shrugged. “Sometimes the past begs to be seen.”
With that, Birdie floated out, leaving a sugary trail of pecans and scandal.
Aunt Winnie walked up behind Hannah Leigh and peered at the photo. “Well. That Birdie is a pot-stirrer if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Christmas miracles come wrapped in the truth sometimes, I guess.”
