Chapter 10 - The Ground Beneath Our Feet
Spring returned to the hills of Great Falls with a riot of wild mountain laurel, dogwood blossoms, and the deep, rich smell of wet Virginia clay.
On a warm Saturday morning in May, three hundred people gathered along the commercial frontage of Route 7.
The old rusted barbed-wire fence was gone. In its place stood a low, elegant stone wall built from river rock harvested from the Potomac. A wide asphalt walking trail wound through the towering oaks, shaded by American flags fluttering gently in the spring breeze.
At the entrance to the trail stood a massive granite monument.
Corinne stood beside me, her arm fully healed, wearing a simple cream linen dress and sunglasses. She held the ceremonial shears in her left hand, her right arm resting comfortably around my waist.
Beside us stood the Mayor of Fairfax, the commanding general of Fort Belvoir, and dozens of retired veterans who had gathered to dedicate the land.
The Mayor stepped up to the microphone.
"Today, we dedicate the Colonel Thomas Ashford Memorial Veterans Sanctuary," the Mayor announced, gesturing to the rolling green meadows. "Ten acres of prime Northern Virginia land, preserved forever in trust for the rehabilitation, mental health recovery, and peace of our returning service members. Donated in perpetuity by Corinne and Blair Ashford."
The crowd erupted into sustained, thunderous applause.
Corinne leaned into my shoulder, her voice soft against the roar of the crowd. "Your father would have loved this, Blair."
"He would have said it took us long enough," I laughed softly, feeling the warm sun sink deep into my skin.
After the speeches concluded and the crowd began to wander down the newly paved trails, I walked alone toward the edge of the woods where the old property line met the ancient timber.
I looked down at the rich, dark soil.
Nolan had tried to sell this earth to pay for his illusions. He had tried to break two women who had been forged in the crucible of military duty, sacrifice, and generational grit.
He was currently sitting in a cell in Louisiana, eating cold stew off a plastic tray, his name erased from every society register, every deed, and every family record.
And here we were.
May you like
Standing on our own land.
I bent down, scooped up a handful of cool Virginia soil, let it run through my fingers, and took a deep, clean breath of air that belonged to no one but me.
