The Chesapeake Diaries Series (274 page)

BOOK: The Chesapeake Diaries Series
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“They created chaos in the marsh here a few years ago before the town found a way to control them. Furry little bastards ate through large sections of the wetlands, cleared out whole areas of bulrush, cordgrass, cattails—you name it, they ate it. Big loss of habitat for a lot of wildlife. You take out the native grasses, the sediment erodes, and the native plant populations suffer.”

Ford walked to the end of the balcony and looked
across the vast lawn to the wetlands his brother was going on and on about. He knew all about the nutria and the damage the population had done in changing the face of the wetlands. He was well acquainted with the many ways that outside forces could change a place.

He could have told Dan how the long bloody wars had changed the face of emerging African nations, but what, he asked himself, would be the point? Besides, the last thing he wanted to do right at that moment was to look back at the devastation he’d left behind when he’d boarded the helicopter outside Bangui in the Central African Republic. There were so many rebel groups battling the government forces—rebel groups themselves—it had become impossible to know for certain who was shooting at whom. As the member of a small, covert team whose job it was to protect remote villages from being preyed upon by any of the rebel militias, Ford had witnessed the kind of horrors that were the stuff of nightmares. Being here, in this peaceful place, was almost jarring to his senses.

“So, you ready to head downstairs and see if we’ve exaggerated about our chef?” Dan asked from the doorway.

“Think I could grab a quick shower and change my clothes first?” After having traveled nonstop for the past forty-eight hours—including a debriefing in McLean, Virginia, just that morning—Ford was a little road weary.

“Sure thing. Just come down to the lobby when you’re ready.” Dan started toward the door. He glanced back over his shoulder and said, “I guess it
must be great to be back after all those years living in those foreign places.”

“Yeah. It’s great to be back.”

“I’ll see you downstairs.” Dan closed the door behind him.

Ford stood in the middle of the small sitting room, taking in the papered walls that surrounded him and the cushy carpet under his feet, the comfortable-looking sofa and chairs. He went into the bathroom and stared at the clean white tiles and the gleaming glass shower. There were fluffy towels on a chrome shelf and a new bar of soap in a porcelain dish on the counter next to the sink. He picked up the soap and inhaled its light pine scent. The everyday things he’d once taken for granted were now luxuries that he’d only dreamed about. He turned on the hot water and let it run through his fingertips.

After where he’d been, home seemed like the most foreign place of all.

 

 

 

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