Page 45 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
Hannah Leigh stepped forward. “Short and sweet. Finish talking before they finish listening. Always works.”
“Yes, yes. What’s up?” he asked.
“Well, I’ve learned that once a promise got lost, and I’d…we’d…like to help set it back on its feet.”
Clarence blinked, eyes wary. “Is this about that darnLove Left Behindstuff? I told your aunt I thought that was bad news.”
“I think I know why you’ve been so determined to keep attention off the dogwood and the board,” she said.
He tried to hide his confusion, but the tremor in his jaw gave him away.
Hannah Leigh’s heart sank, but Nate touched her arm, giving her strength to continue. “I think you know Margaret Jane is back. She moved into the condos by the dogwood. You might’ve already known,” she continued. “And it’s thrown you off balance. You’re both acting like you don’t see each other, but it’s plain as day.”
His voice dropped. “She said that?”
“Not my story to tell,” Hannah Leigh said. “But I’d love to hear yours.”
For a long moment, the room was still. Then Clarence let out a breath that trembled at the edges. “It’s been a long time coming. Too long. She was my first love. I never got over her. It near killed me when she left town.”
The words filled the quiet like a confession. “I was going to marry that girl,” he said.
Hannah Leigh folded her hands and gave the moment the respect it deserved.
Christmas had come to South Hill with more than twinkle lights. It had brought truth, too. The kind that aches a little before it heals. The kind that gives a woman back her peace, a man back his heart, and a town back its story.
She looked over at Nate. His expression was steady, proud, and full of something she didn’t dare name yet.
“Let’s hear it,” she said to the mayor.
And they did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sometimes the answers hide in plain sight.
Nate knew how to brace a sagging beam and rebuild what time had worn thin, but family secrets weren’t something you could square with a level or lock into place with a few clean nails. They often buckled from the inside. It was hard to see Uncle Clarence so clearly raw with emotion that wasn’t angry, rushed, or retaliating. Today, he seemed a little broken, but nostalgic. Vulnerable.
Hannah Leigh perched in the chair beside Nate.
Uncle Clarence sat behind the desk, hands folded tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The usual sharpness in his eyes had dulled to something weary. For once, he didn’t look like the mayor of South Hill, just an old man carrying too many years of regret.
Finally, Nate broke the silence. “Uncle Clarence, there was a letter on the board. We sort of stumbled into who wrote it.” He passed the note to him.
Clarence’s eyes flicked up. They were tired eyes, rimmed red, but steady. “Margaret Jane wrote this?”
“She didn’t tell us everything,” Hannah Leigh said. “Just her side. By the time she could get back, you’d married someone else. She assumed you’d never been in love with her.”
His brows pulled together, his head slowly moving from side to side as if he couldn’t believe it. “No. That’s not how it was.” He dropped the letter onto the desk. “I was twenty,” he said, the words coming so slow it was as if they were heavier than bricks. “I worshiped the ground my daddy walked on. He was a hard man though, a man who thought he knew what was best for everyone in this town. When he caught wind I was getting serious about Margaret Jane, he laid down the law that he’d never allow it, but I really loved her. I did.”
Nate gave him an encouraging nod.
“He said I was going to ruin my life over a girl with nothing but pretty eyes and a smile.” His voice cracked, but he pushed on. He shook his head, a humorless chuckle escaping. “Guess that’s all it takes sometimes.”
He drew a deep breath. “I told him she was the one for me. He wasn’t having it, so I asked her to elope, run off to North Carolina, get married quietly, and start fresh. I’d even put a deposit on an apartment above the barbershop on Main, promising her that one day we’d marry under that dogwood, where everyone could see our true love.”
Nate had heard stories about his great-uncle’s pride and temper. He’d sort of thought of Uncle Clarence the same way. This was the first time he’d ever seen his uncle’s heart.
Clarence rubbed a hand over his jaw. “But she never came. That night, I waited at the county line until the sun came up. When I went back, her house was empty. She and her mama were gone.” His voice broke. “My daddy gave me hell for pining over her. Said she’d seen sense and saved me from myself. So I tried to believe him.”
