Page 5 of A South Hill Christmas Keepsake
“That was for structural integrity,” Winnie said in a serious tone. “The roof caved, but the spirit stood strong.”
“Uh-huh.” Hannah Leigh pretended to add up the numbers, then looked up. “So we agreed, the peppermint stick roof with the wise men takes first?”
Winnie sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only because I can’t in good conscience give second place to a stable made entirely of pretzel sticks.”
“Deal,” Hannah Leigh said, grinning as she circled the winner’s name.
“Well,” Winnie huffed, shoving the results into her folder, “South Hill’s future architects may be working with frosting instead of blueprints, but they’ve got heart. I’ll get the certificates done tonight, and we’ll position the ribbons tomorrow.”
“Nobody does Christmas quite like South Hill.”
“You can take that to the bank.” Aunt Winnie dug in her pocket for her keys and headed for the front entrance door. “Come on. You’ve got to see the dogwood.”
Hannah Leigh fell in step behind her, quick stepping to keep up.
Aunt Winnie called over her shoulder. “Did I tell you our dogwood is now the oldest one inallof Virginia?”
“No. We’ve been the second oldest for as long as I can remember. How’d that happen?” Hannah Leigh had this precarious image of Aunt Winnie with eye black smudged on her face, belly-crawling her way in the darkness to take out the number one dogwood to get the bragging rights. “Please tell me it was a natural death.”
“Lightning, actually.” Aunt Winnie pushed open the heavy doors to the front lawn, where the dogwood proudly stood in front of the former South Hill K–12 schoolhouse. “You’ve got to see this.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Hannah Leigh remembered being a kid and slipping beneath those limbs at recess with a Nancy Drew paperback while other children chased each other across the playground. The gentle rustle of leaves overhead whispered promises, like secrets only time could unlock.
The arching branches stretched out, as if holding old memories and hopes.
“I love this tree.” Hannah Leigh wondered how many others held thoughtful memories of this old tree in their hearts.
“Do you remember the legend?” Aunt Winnie’s expression softened.
“I remember it was called the Lost Love Tree, but I never knew why.” Hannah Leigh studied the dogwood, her eyes tracing the rough, intricate pattern of its weathered bark. Its limbs twisted in silent choreography in the winter breeze, bending as if to guard and protect all the memories.
“Mmm-hmm,” Winnie said, her breath clouding in the cold. “Back when this was still the town school, a young teacher and a traveling newspaperman fell in love while he was here on assignment. Henry was doing a story on the railroad expansion, but he had to leave for another assignment when he was done. He asked her to meet him at the dogwood on Christmas Eve.”
Aunt Winnie continued, “People say that the man was so smitten, he planned to propose before catching the midnight train and taking her with him.”
Hannah Leigh could picture the young newspaperman standing in a halo of lantern light, flakes tumbling through the glow and clinging to the dogwood’s limbs as he waited to ask the girl of his dreams to marry him. “That is so romantic. So, they got engaged right here?”
“No, they didn’t. A terrible snowstorm rolled in, making the roads nearly impassable and threatening a foot of powder. They say he waited here by this tree until the last train came through, but his love never showed.He had to be on the last train out that night for a new assignment, and the way the story goes, they never saw each other again.”
“That’s heartbreaking.”
Aunt Winnie’s lips pursed. “People say they left letters wedged between the limbs of this tree the whole time he was in town. Decades later, someone found an old love letter that Henry must’ve left that night of the storm. That’s how we know his intentions. That’s when folks started calling it the Lost Love Tree.”
“Where’s that letter now?”
Aunt Winnie cocked her head. “I’m not entirely sure. We should have it on display somewhere. As the story goes, the woman grieved his leaving so deeply that she took to her bed, and some say she left to look for him and never came back.”
“She must be really old. Could she still be alive?”
Winnie’s eyes flew wide. “Mind your mouth, young lady. Old is a state of mind, I’ll have you know.”
“Oh, stop! You’re not old.” Aunt Winnie might never be old, despite her years. Hannah Leigh’s heart fluttered. “Can you imagine if they’d gotten engaged here, or even married beneath the dogwood while it’s in full bloom?”
“Yes. I can.” Aunt Winnie’s features softened. “It would be beautiful. No one has ever married under this tree that I’ve heard about. This tree might be waiting for a love story to keep the appointment.”
“Perhaps that’s why it’s lived so long,” Hannah Leigh said.
