CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nate’s parents taught him to trust his gut feelings. And right now, Nate’s gut said this Ruthie Danvers woman held the missing piece to a love story that deserved better than rumors and half-truths.
By the next morning, he’d tracked down an address through one of his old coaching contacts whose aunt worked at the county assessor’s office.
A few phone calls later, he and Hannah Leigh headed toward Laurel Creek, the next town over, where Ruthie now lived at a place called The Camellia Residences.
It wasn’t what he expected. The senior community looked more like a bed-and-breakfast than a care home. Brick buildings framed by porches and rocking chairs, with wreaths hung on every door and a camellia bush blooming pink against the frost.
Inside, the front desk nurse looked up over her glasses as they approached. Her name tag read Gloria.
“Morning,” Nate said with that movie-star grin. “We were hoping to visit one of your residents. Miss Ruthie Danvers.”
Gloria’s eyes narrowed in that way that warned off both salesmen and snoops. “Are you family?”
“Not exactly,” Hannah Leigh said. “We’re helping with a town heritage project. There’s an old story we’re trying to confirm, and Miss Ruthie’s name came up. We were hoping to ask her a few questions.”
The nurse folded her arms. “Miss Ruthie doesn’t get many visitors. She’s sharp as a tack, but I don’t want anyone upsetting her.”
“Promise we’ll be respectful,” Nate said, sincerity steady in his voice. “If she’s not up for it, we’ll head right out.”
Gloria hesitated, then sighed. “All right. Wait here.”
A few minutes later, she reappeared, holding open a hallway door. “She’ll see you. Follow me.”
As they walked, Nate took in the space. It was bright, warm, and filled with little touches that made it feel like home. Handmade quilts hung in the hallways. Someone had placed poinsettias in every window.
“Pretty place,” he whispered.
“Sure is,” Gloria replied. “We like to keep things cheerful. Miss Ruthie’s apartment even has a garden patio. She’s our resident plant whisperer.”
They stopped at a door near the end of the hall. Through the window, Nate glimpsed a tidy sitting area. The edge of Ruthie’s patio held about every color of pansy he’d ever seen.
Gloria knocked, cracked the door. “Miss Ruthie? You have guests here.”
“I do?” A moment later, a small woman appeared, her white hair swept back, her sweater a soft shade of rose. She studied them with bright, curious eyes. “Well, don’t just stand there in the hallway,” she said to them. “Come on in before you let the cold follow you.”
The warmth hit him first, the kind that wrapped around a person and made the air feel safe, but he was already getting too warm. Crocheted blankets hung folded across the back of the sofa.
“Ms. Danvers, ma’am,” Nate said, holding out a hand. “My name’s Nate Collier, and this is Hannah Leigh Parker. We’re from South Hill.”
Ruthie tilted her head. “South Hill, you say? Haven’t heard from anyone there in quite some time. What brings you by?”
“We’re helping the Chamber of Commerce dig into some of the town’s old Christmas traditions,” Hannah Leigh said. “One story keeps coming up. The dogwood tree and the love story that ended under it one snowy Christmas Eve.”
Something flickered in Ruthie’s eyes. “That old story?” she asked softly. “I hope you’re not here to make fun of me.”
“Not a chance, Ms. Danvers.” Nate said.
“You may as well call me Ruthie if you’re going to be all in my personal business. It’s not a love story. There was no happy ending. It was a sad life story. A love that never earned its time.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Ruthie,” Nate said. “We’re just trying to understand what happened.”
“We think we may have found a missing piece to that story.” Hannah Leigh was so gentle with the old woman. He watched respectfully as the woman turned to her and softened.
Ruthie hesitated, then gestured toward the sofa. “Well, sit then. If we’re talking about ghosts, might as well be comfortable.”
“I understand you were a teacher,” Hannah Leigh said.
“Yes. I taught my whole life.”
She got the ball rolling. “Did you ever marry? Have children?”
“My life was abundant with love for every child I ever had the privilege to teach. I loved them all. Even the bratty ones, bless their hearts. Wasn’t their fault.
” She touched her fingers to her lips. “I tracked their successes, mourned their failures, helped when I could. I never married or had children of my own.”
“Because of Henry?”
She blinked. “It sounds ridiculous. You won’t understand. Nobody does.” She looked away. “You know when you’ve experienced the love of your life. I could never leave that behind. I still cling to that special time we spent together.” Her eyes wandered to the side table.
Hannah Leigh caught Nate’s attention, pointing to where Ruthie’s attention had turned.
He noticed the ornate frame there. “Miss Danvers, is that a picture of you and Henry,” he asked.
“It is.”
Nate had stepped into plenty of homes over the years. Some gave off the vibe they’d soaked up decades of love, loss, and laughter and kept them all. In this little apartment, this whole woman’s life fit neatly inside.
“Do you remember that night?” Hannah Leigh asked as they sat.
Ruthie nodded. “Every bit of it. Sometimes I forget what day it is, but I’ll never forget him.”
“Henry Bell must’ve been very special.”
She nodded. “Sweet man, always carried a notebook and a camera. Very smart, too. He was doing an important story for the paper about changes to the railroad that were affecting the east coast. He was in town over a month. We knew he’d have to leave eventually, but he got the news just before Christmas that his next assignment required that he leave right after Christmas. Neither of us wanted it to end.”
“I guess it was harder right at the holidays.”
“I think the hard part was that our feelings had grown so quickly. He was even spending time with my family. He’d show up at school with flowers. The children loved that. They’d tease he was my boyfriend.” A grin brightened her face. “He was so much more than that.”
“But he had to leave.”
“I begged him to stay, but he couldn’t. When my parents saw how upset I was, they forbade me to continue talking to him. My heart wouldn’t allow it though. That’s when we started leaving letters in the dogwood for each other. Every single day there were letters.”
“Do you have the letters?”
She nodded. “Tied with a ribbon from the last gift he’d given me.
I treasure everyone. He wrote beautiful letters.
” Pausing, she took in a tired breath. “He promised we’d be together.
He asked me to meet him under the dogwood.
Said he had something important we needed to discuss. But he never came.”
“The snowstorm,” Nate said.
Her voice wavered. “Yes. If you’ve never experienced thunder snow, it’s a real thing.
The thunder introduced snow so thick you couldn’t see across the street, but I went to meet him.
I waited as long as I could, but it was so cold, and so wet it was heavy.
Even my eyelashes had ice in them. I tried to stay.
I even sang O Holy Night to keep myself brave.
Told myself if I could hum it three times through and he still hadn’t shown, I’d go home. ”
Her eyes teared. “I made it all the way through. Three times. No Henry.”
Nate’s brows knit together. “Did you ever find out why he didn’t show?”
“No, but I suppose he made something of himself in the city and just forgot about me and South Hill.” She shrugged. “I suppose it was for the best. City life wasn’t for me.
Silence settled between them, heavy and tender.
“You can trick a mind into forgetting, but not a heart. I let that part of mine stay buried under that tree.” Ruthie looked down at her folded hands.
Hannah Leigh looked like she was swallowing back tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Ruthie smiled gently. “I knew my one true love. I just wasn’t his. Some people live a whole life and don’t feel that.”
Nate leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I don’t think he meant to leave you, Ruthie.”
She looked up sharply. “You don’t have to say those things.”
“I’m not.” He shook his head. “I think something kept him from getting there. And I think we have proof of that.”
“How?”
Hannah Leigh reached into her tote and placed the small gold locket in Ruthie’s trembling hands. “We believe he was going to give this to you that night.”
Ruthie gasped, brushing her thumb over the worn surface. “I’ve never seen this.”
“Check the back,” Hannah Leigh said.
Ruthie turned it over, eyes widening as she read the faint inscription aloud. “‘I found my love under the dogwood. RD + HB.’” Her voice broke. “This was for me?”
“Those are your initials,” Hannah Leigh pointed out. “Right?”
“We found it buried beneath the tree,” Nate said. “We think it may have gotten covered up in that snowstorm, maybe he’d left it with one of his letters to you or something.”
“It was there all this time?”
“We can’t be sure. But it seems he never meant to miss that date.” Hannah Leigh hitched a breath. “That locket is a fine gift, expensive in its day. We confirmed Harper’s Jewelry in South Hill engraved the inscription. That’s not just a Christmas present. It looks like a promise to me.”
“I can’t believe it. All these years…”
Ruthie clung to that locket, staring at his picture.
“The chain broke, and the dirt messed up the clasp a little. We’d like to take it back to Harper’s Jewelry so they can clean it up for you. If you don’t mind.”
“I can’t believe it’s mine to keep. I hate for anyone to spend money on it. It’s a keepsake no matter what the condition,” she said.
“The Chamber of Commerce will foot the bill. Please allow us to do this for you. I can’t promise how long it will take with the holidays and all, but if you can be patient, I think it would certainly be worth it. Plus, it would be in condition to wear.”