Free Saving Laurel Springs by Lin Stepp Page A

make the street sign.
    He felt pleased to see it still standing.
    Carter sighed. How could Rhea walk around this place every day and not think about him? Their memories lived in every nook and corner of Laurel Springs. He ran a hand through his hair. It’s why he could never come back when Judith was living. It would have driven him crazy to be here.
    He started down the West Cabin Road, looking at the resort houses on either side of the paved lane. They all looked shabby. He scribbled notes as he walked, letting the old familiar names of the cabins comfort him—Hemlocks, Redbud Cottage, Leaning Oak, Hickory House, the Magnolia—still in the same soft colors of green, pink, gray, nut brown, and white.
    Carter paused, noting sheets of blue plastic covering part of the roof of the Magnolia. He walked around the house and found a downed pine tree lying by the side of the house. A storm had obviously felled it right across the roof. With the house showing a gloomy look of disuse, Carter guessed the damage had been done months earlier—but never repaired. He marked it as a priority.
    As he walked on down the road, he continued reading the signs in front of the houses alternating on either side—Wayside Way, Two Gables, Bluebird Stop, Sweetgum, Crow’s Nest, Summer House, and Mockingbird Hill—again all in a soft array of complementary colors.
    Carter turned to start back up the street, savoring the sights of the picturesque cottages he so loved and enjoying the lyrical sounds of Little Cascades Creek tumbling over the rocks nearby.
    Crossing the main road to East Cabin Road, he found the resort homes there equally derelict. Again he enjoyed reciting the names of the cabins as he walked, much like he and Rhea had done in singsong tones so many times as children, “Creekside Cottage, the Highlander, Pink Lady, Beech Grove, Dream Catcher, Four Seasons, Fox Den, Summerwind, Chestnut Place, Azalea House, Crescent Moon, and the Dancing Bear.”
    He stopped to make a note that the Crescent Moon desperately needed new shutters and then detoured off the road to walk closer to the Dancing Bear. He and Rhea had painted and decorated this one themselves. A sweep of memories washed over him as he thought back. I wonder if that old set of car pictures is still on the bedroom wall. He tried to peek in the window but found the curtains drawn.
    Annoyed at the memories, Carter headed back out toward the Assembly Road again. Maybe when he started fixing up Laurel Springs, Rhea would come around. He hoped so.
    Carter walked through the covered bridge and then explored the West and East Camp Roads beyond the bridge. They paralleled the cabin roads on the other side of the creek but were set up for tent and RV camping.
    There weren’t many campers using the sites, and Carter could hardly blame them. All the campsites needed to be cleaned up and resurfaced, and the grills needed replacing. He stuck his head into one of the bathhouses. “Yuck,” he said out loud. “These bathhouses need to be totally remodeled, too. They’re archaic.” He wrinkled his nose. “They smell musty, too.”
    Knowing Rhea was working at the store this afternoon, Carter started up the road in that direction. If he kept putting himself in her face often enough, maybe he would break down that stubborn will of hers in time.
    His lips narrowed in determination. Carter prided himself on his ability to rise above challenges and to maintain optimism in the face of discouragement. He certainly needed both of these traits with Rhea Dean right now.
    A new wave of nostalgia washed over him as he walked up the porch steps of the Laurel Springs Market a short time later. Vintage tin signs still hung on the wall, battered wooden chairs lined the long porch, and the same old table with the checkerboard painted on top still sat in the corner. Heading inside through the rusted screened door, Carter could hear the soft chatter of