Page 27 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
She didn’t trust her voice enough to answer. Instead, she ran a finger along the edge of the table. “You’ve got good taste,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t give her away.
He smiled at that, the kind that made her pulse skip. “Let’s see what that crazy old postmaster Mr. Dillard left behind.”
“That’s a D initial. Did his first name start with an R? What if he’s the RD on the locket?”
“That would be funny, but I don’t think so. Hope not, anyway. We don’t need another lead that might take us off this one.” They pulled things out of the first box. Hannah Leigh untied the twine around a bundle of letters. The paper was thin, soft, and yellowed with age. “Look at these postmarks,” she said. “1963… 1964… right around the holidays.”
Nate whistled. “Old Dillard kept everything. Sadly, he was even worse at home. A hoarder, although back then I don’t think anyone knew that was a thing. The realtor said, rumor had it when Dillard died, the EMTs couldn’t even get into the house with the stretcher there were so many things piled up.”
“Different times back then.” She flipped through envelopes, then paused on one with smeared ink making it almost unreadable. She blinked, hoping she wasn’t imagining it. It just seemed too easy. “This letter addresses Miss Ruthie Danvers,” she said, squinting at the faded script. “We have her address. Is there a chance she still lives there?”
“That’s unlikely, but it gives us a starting point. See what the letter says first.”
“No return address, but the postmark is local.” She tugged at the flap, but the paper resisted.
Nate flicked open a pocketknife and slid it beneath the seal. “There you go.”
Hannah Leigh unfolded the paper. Her voice trembled just a little as she read aloud:
My darling, Ruthie,
Thank you for agreeing to wait for me beneath the dogwood the evening before Christmas Eve. You are too special to leave behind.
Don’t tell a soul. We can’t risk anyone trying to keep us apart. I must leave on the midnight train that night. Please come with me.
My job promises us a life of excitement that I can’t imagine sharing with anyone else. I promise to always take care of you. Meeting you changed me. I can’t be without you.
If you meet me, we will begin our life together. If you are not at the tree, then I’ll know you changed your mind, and I promise to respect that.
Forever my love, Henry
Their eyes met, just for a second, but it was enough. Her breath caught. A chill came over her that had nothing to do with the draft whispering under the window.
She swallowed hard, then dug through the rest of the box with haste.
“Wait,” she said. “This one’s addressed to Henry Bell at the La Crosse Hotel. The postmark is the day after Christmas.”
Nate leaned closer, brow furrowing. “La Crosse is only about four miles from here. The main train station was there back then. That must’ve been where he was staying for the newspaper story.”
“Maybe it took her a few days to get out of the house,” Hannah Leigh said, thinking aloud. “She’s asking why he didn’t show up in this letter.” She turned the letter over gently. “We’ve got to find Ruthie.”
“Winnie and Birdie didn’t recognize the name,” Nate said. “You’d think they’d know everyone within a hundred miles.”
“She could’ve changed her name, or left for a while.”
They sat in quiet awe for a moment, surrounded by the whispers of history. Then Nate exhaled, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Guess we just uncovered South Hill’s greatest love story.”
“Or its saddest,” she mumbled. She took pictures of what they’d found and put the mail back in the box.
“Maybe both.” He pressed his hands together. “Did you get pictures of everything?”
“Yes. We’ll put all of this back right where we found it, so we don’t end up in federal prison. That would be an even sadder story.”
“You got that right. I don’t think they serve Bringleton’s cocoa or pralines in jail.”
They repacked the boxes and carried them outside to Nate’s truck and drove in silence to the post office to return the boxeswhere they had found them. As Nate stepped out of the shed next to Hannah Leigh, a gust of wind barreled down the alley and slammed the door with a bang.
Hannah Leigh jumped. “Okay, that felt personal.”
