Page 43 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
Winnie leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Elope?” Her voice filled with interest.
Hannah Leigh could imagine a proposal under that tree.
“I was so excited. Everyone knows the story of the lovers who were supposed to meet under the dogwood. I’d dreamed of being the one who actually got to find their true love there. But I couldn’t run off and get married without telling Momma. Only when I told her she became outraged. She packed us up and hauled me to Delaware that night. By spring, I tried to check on things back here only to find he’d married someone else.”
The room went still.
Hannah Leigh leaned in, her voice low. “Someone thought maybe you were the one who wrote this note on theLove LeftBehindboard.” She read it. “A man beneath the dogwood. A broken heart. A promise unkept.”
“I did.” Her smile wavered. “He was the most romantic man I ever knew. He still holds that title in my heart. But life went on. I married and had a good life. Still, I wonder what might’ve been. I guess I just couldn’t resist putting that note on the board.”
Winnie reached over and squeezed her hand. “You really loved him.”
“More than anything, I still wish him peace.” Margaret Jane crossed the room to a cedar chest, pulling out a folded church-social bulletin, a ribbon and an old photograph of herself with a tall young man. “That was Clarence,” she said with affection still hanging on the words.
Winnie blinked. “Clarence Collier?”
Margaret Jane nodded. “We were careful. He came from folks who thought little of mine. We were in a different class, but I never felt like he was ashamed of me. But he married so quickly that I have to wonder if it was ever real.”
The words landed like a church door closing. Not loud. Just final.
Margaret Jane straightened and managed a smile. “Christmas has a way of stirring settled things. Sometimes that hurts.”
“Then maybe it’s time for some healing,” said Hannah Leigh. She put the locket back in her pocket.
Winnie stood, eyes glistening. “Thank you for trusting us with your story. We won’t breathe a word. But you’ve probably figured out Birdie was the ‘someone’ we mentioned. She’s got a knack for spreading news faster than a grassfire.” Winnie smiled. “Still, she’s good people. Tell her straight it’s private, and she’ll button up tight.”
Margaret Jane gave a small nod. “Noted.”
They lingered a few more minutes, as women do when they have already said the hardest words. Then came the hugs, soft goodbyes, and the slow shuffle toward the door.
Outside, twilight painted the sky a pale lavender. A cardinal lit on a low branch near the porch, a flicker of red against the quiet.
At the car, Hannah Leigh looked back. Margaret Jane stood framed in the window, one hand resting on the sill. A woman who had learned how to keep living with what she’d lost.
As Hannah Leigh got into the car, a quiet thought settled in her heart. Maybe some loves didn’t end at all; they just waited for the right moment to be found again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hannah Leigh and Aunt Winnie climbed into the SUV, shivering while the heater coughed to life. “This is when I wish I drove one of those little cars that heats in thirty seconds.” Hannah Leigh rubbed her hands briskly together.
“Head straight to Bringleton’s,” Aunt Winnie said, blowing into her palms. “I need something hot enough to thaw me clear down to my toes.”
And she did just that. Hannah Leigh hopped out of the car, jogged inside and came back a few minutes later with two steaming cups. “One cocoa, extra marshmallows, the way you like it.”
Aunt Winnie wrapped her hands around the cup and pressed it to her cheek. “Lordy goodness, I could climb right inside this.”
They sat for a moment, the hum of the heater and the carols on the radio softening the air between them.
“Clarence,” Aunt Winnie said finally. “I can’t believe the person Margaret Jane described is the same Clarence as our mayor. It’s mind boggling.”
Hannah Leigh turned the locket in her pocket, feeling the cool metal slide against her fingertips. “One and the same.”
“It’s hard for me to think of that man as romantic,” Aunt Winnie said. “But he’s carried something heavy. You can see it in the way he stands when people cheer too loud. Like he doesn’t know how to accept joy. His daddy was a hard man to please. And losing Elaine near broke him. Still, choices are choices.”
Outside, the square shimmered in evening light. A couple stopped by theLove Left Behindboard to pin a note. Across the way, Birdie popped up near the nativity scene as if conjured from thin air, then darted off toward Harper’s Jewelry, a ribbon of news trailing in her wake.Silent Nightfloated through the air, soft and sure.
Hannah Leigh thumbed her phone and typed:
