Free Home to Walnut Ridge by Diane Moody

sordid story of her
retirement‌—‌which clearly wasn’t.
    The day had been exhausting, but
productive. The Elders took off at four-thirty when Alex thanked
them and sent them on their way. Alex had told Tracey they all had
their own places and liked their privacy, which was why she didn’t
offer them dinner every night of the week. Just on
occasion.
    The three of them ate a quiet dinner
together, then both Dad and Alex called it an early night. Tracey
was tired, but rarely ever went to bed early. Her D.C. hours had
left an indelible mark on her sleep patterns.
    Besides, there was something she
wanted to do. She made herself a hot cup of tea, slipped her laptop
under her arm, and headed for the back porch. As much as she loved
the grand front porch at Walnut Ridge, the large screened-in back
porch was her haven. Cozy and intimate for its size, it was the
perfect spot to get lost in a good book or stretch out on the
cushioned sofa for an afternoon nap. Several years ago, Buddy added
a stone fireplace on the east side of the porch, making it even
more inviting on nights like this.
    Tracey built a small fire like her
father had taught her years ago. Satisfied, she trekked back inside
for one more thing, then returned, placing the fragile, wrapped
items on the wicker coffee table. She unwrapped them, first the cup
then the saucer, and turned on the small lamp on the table beside
her. All day, thoughts of their unexpected discovery had needled
her.
    Carefully holding each piece up to the
light, she studied the design. Basically, both pieces had a white
background edged in gold and a deep, dark shade of red‌—‌no, now
that she looked at it in the light, more like a dark maroon or
magenta. A white twisted rope pattern set inside the gold band
rimmed both cup and saucer. Below that, a quarter-inch band of the
dark maroon with a single row of tiny gold dots circled the
pieces.
    And on the face of the
cup, an eagle with its wings outstretched, its head turned to the
left with the faintest wash of yellow behind it‌—‌almost as if the
sun glowed behind it. What looked to be an olive branch was gripped
in the eagle’s talons atop a shield of sorts with muted red and
white vertical stripes below, topped by a horizontal band of navy
blue. How odd that the shield leans to the
left just ever so slightly, she
thought. Protruding from the upper right
edge of the shield were four or five arrows.
    She wondered if it were some kind of
colonial design. Something about it seemed familiar, but she just
couldn’t put her finger on it. The eagle, the red, white, and blue
shield, the olive branch—
    “ Good evening,
Tracey.”
    “ Ah!” She caught herself,
juggling the cup but saving it. “Noah! You’ve got to stop sneaking
up on me like that. I almost dropped the cup we found
today.”
    As she set it down, he came around to
the back entrance of the screened-in porch and opened the door.
“I’m so sorry‌—‌really. I promise I’m not trying to spook
you.”
    “ I know, but‌—‌maybe I
should give you bells to wear around your neck so I’ll hear you
coming.”
    He smiled. “I hope not. Never been one
for wearing dog collars.”
    “ Well, never say never,”
she said, pushing her hair back out of her face. “Was there
something you needed?”
    As he approached the sitting area,
Tracey noticed he’d changed into an olive-green sweater and a clean
pair of jeans, his hair still damp from a shower.
    “ Please, have a seat. I
didn’t mean to interrupt. I saw the light back here and decided to
take my chances and see if anyone was up.”
    “ Oh? Did you need Dad or
Alex? I doubt they’re asleep yet.”
    “ No, please don’t disturb
them.” He pointed to the rocker adjacent to the sofa. “Mind if I
join you?”
    “ Please, have a seat.
Would you like a cup of tea? Or I could make some
coffee.”
    “ No, I think I’ve had
enough caffeine for one day.” He sat down and gently set the chair
rocking, his glance