The Christmas Promise

PART 2 — THE SECRET IN THE LETTER

Wade Harlan stood beneath the railway station lamps, staring at the telegram in his hand.

Eleanor Byrne.

For seventeen years, he had imagined what he would say if he ever saw that name again.

Now he couldn’t find a single word.

“Mr. Harlan?” Ambrose Fenn asked quietly. “Do you know this woman?”

Wade folded the telegram.

“I used to.”

Lucy looked up at him.

“Is my mama coming?”

Wade glanced down at the little girl. Her eyes were full of hope, and he suddenly understood how dangerous hope could be when a person had been disappointed too many times.

“Yes, sweetheart. I believe she’s coming.”

“When?”

“Soon, I hope.”

Lucy smiled and hugged her old carpet bag.

Wade took her to his ranch that evening. It was a comfortable little property with a white farmhouse, a red barn, and several acres of grazing land. A Christmas wreath hung crookedly on the front door, and a small pine tree stood beside the fireplace.

Lucy stopped at the entrance.

“Is this where you live?”

“It is.”

“All by yourself?”

“Most of the time.”

She looked around the warm kitchen.

“Then who’s going to eat Christmas dinner with you?”

Wade almost laughed.

“I suppose you are, if you’d like.”

Lucy nodded solemnly.

“I’d like that.”

After supper, Wade prepared a small bedroom for her. He found an old quilt, a soft pillow, and a stuffed rabbit that had belonged to his younger sister.

Lucy held the rabbit carefully.

“Can I keep him until Mama comes?”

“Of course.”

When Wade turned to leave, she called after him.

“Mr. Harlan?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you look so sad when you saw Mama’s name?”

Wade stood silently in the doorway.

“Because I knew her a long time ago.”

“Was she your friend?”

He looked toward the dark window.

“She was someone very important to me.”

Lucy yawned and hugged the rabbit.

“Then maybe Christmas is bringing two people home.”

Wade couldn’t answer.

Later that night, after Lucy had fallen asleep, he sat beside the fireplace and remembered a winter seventeen years earlier.

He had been fifteen, the son of a poor ranch hand. Eleanor Byrne had been seventeen, the daughter of a traveling schoolteacher.

They had met at Pruitt Crossing when her family stopped there during a snowstorm.

She had laughed at his awkwardness, shared her sandwiches with him, and promised to return the following Christmas.

But she never came.

A letter had arrived months later, telling him she had moved east with her family.

He had written back.

No answer.

Then another letter.

Still nothing.

Eventually, he had stopped writing, but he had never stopped waiting.

The following morning, Wade went into town to ask Reverend Danner about the telegram.

When he returned, he found Lucy sitting at the kitchen table, carefully picking at the uneven stitching inside her coat.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She looked worried.

“I think I’m ready to read Mama’s letter.”

Wade pulled out a chair.

“Would you like me to help?”

Lucy nodded.

He carefully opened the lining without damaging the old fabric. Inside was a small envelope, yellowed with age.

On the front were five words:

For Lucy, when she finds home.

Wade unfolded the paper.

The first lines made his hands tremble.

“My dearest Lucy,

If you are reading this, then I hope you are somewhere safe. I need you to know that I never abandoned you because I stopped loving you.

I was ill, and I had no money to keep you warm or feed you. I believed the orphan society would protect you until I could return.

But there is something else you must know.

The man who promised to help me find you is named Wade Harlan.

If fate has brought you to him, please tell him that I never forgot the promise we made seventeen years ago.”

Wade stopped reading.

Lucy stared at him.

“What promise?”

He looked at the little girl, then at the letter.

For the first time, he realized Eleanor hadn’t simply disappeared from his life.

She had been trying to return all along.

And the next train was scheduled to arrive at Pruitt Crossing the following afternoon.