Hearts Unfold Read Free Page A

sad, but not at all unwelcoming.
    Mounted on the
rail fence by the gate was the hand-painted sign first put in place by the
farm's original owner, her father's uncle.   He had christened his home Valley Rise Farm, a name that had been
carried on when her father inherited the property.   Repainted numerous times over the years, the
sign was again in need of refreshing, the paint now faded and chipping.   Beneath the title, the name of “J. D. Haynes”
had almost disappeared.   She would make
the sign a priority, she decided.   As
soon as she could get to the hardware store, she would buy paint and brushes
and carefully restore it.   It would
announce to all comers that “Haynes” intended to carry on here.
    Reentering the
gate, she followed the drive to the back of the house.   To the east, beyond the barn, the land
dropped away steeply to a wooded hillside.   Below the woods, she could just make out the tall brick chimneys of what
was locally known simply as “the springs.”   A hundred years earlier, Charlotte Springs had been an elegant resort,
the destination of wealthy vacationers who came for the cool summers and the
waters of the deep sulfur springs.   Now
all that remained were crumbling foundations and the sentinel chimneys.   The road to the springs was closed to all but
local traffic, and it had become a preserve for native flora and fauna.   Her father had often taken her there to
picnic by the bubbling water, teaching her the names of the wildflowers and the
songbirds.
    The barn and
the rail-fenced paddock seemed unchanged, but beyond, to the west, the
overgrown furrows were a forlorn reminder of how long it had been since the
lush rows of the garden had flourished.   Five years now, since that final planting; her father had lost interest
after that, allowing the land to go fallow.
    As she strolled
across the yard, a fat gray squirrel paused in his brisk rummaging among the
leaves and stood watching suspiciously for a moment, before scurrying up the
huge oak that stood at the back of the house.   From his perch, he chattered furiously down to her.   The invitation was irresistible.
    “Not used to
sharing the place, are you?” Emily called up to him.   “Well, I won't be here long this time, but
you'd better be prepared for company, come summer.   And by the way, how about keeping this yard a
little neater?   Anybody would think no
one lived here!”   The squirrel gave her
the benefit of his bright, inquisitive gaze, finally turning to race up to the
nest high above, bidding her farewell with a very grand flourish of his
tail.  
    Turning to
survey the yard, with its mounds of windblown leaves and remnants of long-ago
flower beds, she shook her head.   Her
mother would be horrified that things had been so neglected after the years of
careful cultivation.   The rose bushes
she'd so prized, now gnarled and overgrown; the beds of azaleas and
rhododendrons in dire need of pruning, and the brick-lined borders where in
summers past, bright annuals had bloomed, all now cluttered with several
seasons' worth of weeds and debris.   In
and out of the tangled beds, wrens, sparrows and chickadees darted for their
breakfast, and a pair of cardinals dove gracefully into the dark green haven of
a juniper.   Not deserted, she thought,
just in need of a loving hand to bring back its former beauty.
    After walking a
full circle around the house, checking for broken windows or loose shutters,
she decided the house had fared amazingly well.   A good cleaning and it would be almost as good as new.   Of course it had not been new in almost
seventy years, but it had been gently used, and in her lifetime, at least, much
loved.   A little of the same kind of
attention should bring it back to life.   With one last sweeping view of her surroundings, she drew a deep breath
of the cold, clean air and squared her shoulders.   Time now, she told herself, for some real
work.
    First checking
the level of the fuel