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.
“Guess we’ll never know.” Aunt Winnie smiled, then glanced at her watch. With a quick hug, she tugged on Hannah Leigh’s sleeve. “Oh dear, I need to check something at the office. Let’s walk. It’s not far.”
“Sure.” She didn’t mind a Southern winter kind of cold, the sort that shows your breath without chasing you indoors. It was nice to take a stroll with no agenda and no phone ringing in her ear.
As they neared the Chamber of Commerce, South Hill’s iconic LOVE sign came into view, standing proudly out front.
They created it entirely from old railway parts.
A rusted RR Crossing sign for the “L,” a spoked train wheel for the “O,” a pair of antique track tongs for the “V,” and reclaimed railroad ties forming the “E.” The sight made her smile.
It had been the backdrop for her high-school graduation photos, back when she couldn’t wait to leave town.
As they passed, a young couple snuggled up close for a selfie, laughing as their golden retriever leapt into the frame at the last second, ears flying and tail wagging like he’d planned the photobomb all along.
Hannah Leigh’s heart danced, caught between envy and nostalgia as she watched the couple. “What’s next on the list?”
“Tomorrow, you’re helping Nate Collier set up wreaths and garland at the old school. He’s turning the gym into a winter wonderland for the festival.”
“Nate?” Hannah Leigh echoed, the name tugging at something old and unresolved. “As in… Nate Collier from school?”
“Don’t worry. He got taller. And kinder.” Aunt Winnie’s eyes twinkled. “Mostly. I mean, sometimes he can show a little temper if there’s a bad call on the field. Did I mention he coaches football on the side?”
“You didn’t, but he was an outstanding player in high school. If he coaches on the side, what does he do for a job?”
“He’s a contractor. A good one, too. He is a real craftsman, not one of those who take shortcuts. He’s well respected around here.”
Her palms began to sweat. Nate Collier. She hadn’t said that name out loud in years, but it still carried a spark of what-if she didn’t trust anymore.
Not after Evan. The idea of seeing Nate again made her pulse quicken in equal parts curiosity and dread.
She wasn’t ready for anyone’s charm, least of all the boy she’d once written his name in the margins of her notebook beside hers.
Before Hannah Leigh could protest, a big gust of wind caught her off balance, tugging at the clipboard Aunt Winnie had assigned to her like it had something personal against her holiday plans.
She pinned it against her chest, sighed, and squinted up at the banner above the sidewalk that was hanging slightly crooked.
Tree Lighting Ceremony
Friday, December 12, 7 PM
From down the block, a sputtering, puttering motor grew louder.
“Oh no,” Hannah Leigh muttered under her breath. “Is that Birdie?”
“She hasn’t changed a bit,” Aunt Winnie said. “Well, she might be even more audacious.”
Sure enough, here came Birdie, swaddled in tartan plaid and driving her bedazzled baby-blue golf cart like it was a presidential motorcade.
A wreath the size of a Smart car was zip-tied to the front, glittering like a disco ball in the midday sun.
“Jingle Bell Rock” blared from a speaker strapped to the back.
“Heads up, sugarplum! I’m comin’ in hot!” she squealed, red hair flying.
Hannah Leigh stepped aside just in time for The Gossip, Birdie’s appropriately named golf cart, to roll to a bouncy stop against the curb.
Birdie flung herself out of the doorless side as if she were exiting a limousine. Birdie’s red sweater had a reindeer with a light-up nose, and she wore a matching lipstick shade, possibly named Cranberry Chaos.
“I was just at Harper’s Jewelry, and I have news. You remember that ring they kept in the display case for years, the one with the two little dogwood blossoms on either side of the diamond? Gone. Sold this morning. And not to whom you’d guess.”
Aunt Winnie’s eyes widened. “Not Billy for Sonja?”
Birdie’s lips curled, not totally unlike the Grinch. “Nope. An out of towner. I can’t believe they sold it to someone with no connection to our tree! What were they thinking?”
“That a sale is a sale?” Seemed perfectly acceptable to Hannah Leigh.
“Don’t be silly, child!” Aunt Winnie nearly shuddered. “Remind me to give you my bracelet to take over there to get fixed. The darn thing flew off my wrist right in the middle of choir practice last week. Nearly clocked poor Pastor Qualls right in the halo.”
“Oh, goodness gracious. We can’t have that! I’ll get the bracelet over there,” Hannah Leigh said, then turned to Birdie. “How have you been?”
Birdie cast her a disappointed look. “Oh, I’m swell. Arthritis is barkin’ and I sat on a caramel earlier, but otherwise, I’m upright. About time you came back.”
“Thanks for the warm welcome,” Hannah Leigh said, regretting the passive-aggressive tone. “I’m just here to help with the festival.”
“Oh goodness. Well, your aunt has her work cut out this year. Don’t get me started on the mayor and his opinion of Christmas lights.
Patsy Blackwood, who’s twice removed from city business but still knows everything, said the mayor vetoed red-and-green bulbs on the stoplights because they looked ‘too playful.’ I’m sure he’ll be by soon to remind everyone that Christmas cheer requires a permit. ”
“I’m ready for him,” Aunt Winnie said.
Birdie leaned in and stage-whispered, “That man has the personality of last year’s Christmas tree. Dry, prickly, and shedding needles where nobody wants ’em.”
Hannah Leigh stifled a laugh.
“I figured I’d drop by, lend a hand, offer unsolicited commentary, and refill my cocoa tub.” Birdie’s energy was boundless. “Lord knows those girls in the coffee shop give me the ‘ma’am limit’ after noon.”
She dropped into a folding chair beside the supply bins, pulled out a mint from her purse, and began humming.
And just like that, Birdie Horn was officially on site.
“Did anyone tell you we’re bringing back Minnie Pearl’s Pralines?” Birdie said before either woman could speak. “And mercy, they finally fixed the lights on the Colonial marquee. Took a hundred years and a box of spare bulbs, but hallelujah, she’s glowing again like the good old days.”
“That’s a long time, but the theater looks better than I remember.”
“Which, by the way,” Birdie said, “is about as long as it seems since I’ve seen you around here. About time you came back. Good timing, too. We’re stirring up a blizzard of Christmas cheer around here.”
As Birdie bustled off, Hannah Leigh lingered on the sidewalk a moment longer.
The LOVE sign stirred a rush of memories.
It surprised her Aunt Winnie hadn’t already dressed it in garland and lights.
She might slip back afterward and do a little magic on the sign after Aunt Winnie goes to sleep to surprise her.
Looking down the block, she watched Main Street brighten as each shop window lit up with its own unique style, the combined lights stitching the pavement into a holiday quilt.
At long last, a gentle certainty settled in her chest. She belonged here. It felt as if the town itself was wrapping her in a warm welcome and quietly saving a few surprises just for her.