Take Me (Take Me 1)

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sp; “Yes, Mother. She’ll be at the wedding as well.”

Betsy Stockman was pleased by this, as evidenced by the calmer tone as she said, “Very good, Katherine. We’ll see you then.”

Silence ensued.

Her mother had hung up on her.

Kate simmered.

There’d been no “travel safe,” or “I pray everyone’s okay in Mexico City” or… anything along those lines. No nothing, in fact. Other than the unspoken sentiment that her mother would be highly disappointed if there were even the tiniest fly in the ointment when it came to Denny and Charlotte’s wedding, like say, Kate and Jude were five minutes late.

She sighed.

Her mother’s initial reaction to Kate’s announcement of her going to Afghanistan for disaster-relief training aside, it was business as usual with the Stockmans.

Making Kate none too enthused about her impending trip home. Though…she had to admit she was thrilled for her youngest brother and his blushing bride. Charlotte was a dream, and Kate was pleased Denny had found such a wonderful woman.

Also…Kate actually was looking forward to all the wedding-morning excitement and helping Charlotte to get ready, sipping champagne with her friends and making cute jokes about the wedding night.

She smiled as she slipped her cell into the back pocket of her jeans. She was at the hospital with Jude and Nikki. Jude was in the breakroom the nurses had ushered him into that night of the explosions, not only impressed that he was going to help everyone locate their loved ones and do what he could to assist with legal matters and getting everyone back home, but they also visibly swooned over his devilish dark looks and hunky body.

Naturally, Kate couldn’t blame them. And Jude’s ability to easily sway the female persuasion did come in handy from time to time.

Meanwhile, Kate and Nikki had patients to counsel. Kate wrapped up her rounds and then stepped into the more dormitory-styled hospital suite where several children had slept since the explosions, their parents being inpatients or were still missing following that night. Most of the kids were in decent shape—just scared and uncertain of what was happening, why they couldn’t return home yet. Others suffered various degrees of injury, but were under good care.

As Kate entered, the ones who were hanging out playing games, reading or watching TV greeted her. The dark-haired girl from the stairwell leapt from her bed and raced toward Kate, who knelt down just as the girl launched herself into Kate’s arms and hugged her tight.

“Katie!” she cried gleefully.

Kate had never preferred any derivative of her name other than Kate. Yet Sophia-Maria Santos went by Sophie and so when she called Kate “Katie,” well…who was Kate to correct her?

Had it been anyone else, sure… But Sophie was much too irresistible and so Kate couldn’t find it in her heart to insist on any other name.

“How’s your day?” she asked Sophie, who was five, and the most inquisitive kid Kate had ever met.

“I played scotch-hop,” she said in broken Spanish.

“You mean hopscotch.”

“No.” Sophie gave a definitive shake of her head. “Scotch-hop.”

With a laugh, Kate said, “Okay. Show me.”

Sophie took her by the hand and led her to her bed—a simple, twin cot that had been rolled in, like the others. Alongside it, pieces of paper were taped to the floor to resemble the game Kate remembered from her youth.

As was the case with her name, Kate didn’t bother correcting Sophie’s idea of this game. They played until Jude came to collect her, knowing exactly where Kate would be.

When she told Sophie she was going to dinner with Jude, Sophie gripped her hand. Pleading with her big amber-colored eyes, quite similar to Kate’s, she implored in Spanish, “Please don’t leave me.”

Kneeling before her once more, Kate gently clasped her shoulders and said, “It’s time for me to go. But I’ll be back tomorrow. And you can see your mother in about a half an hour. She’ll be awake again.”

This brightened the little girl’s pretty face. Kate kissed her forehead and reminded her she’d return.

She and Jude went in search of Nikki, locating her in a patient’s room. The man resting in the bed was in a medically induced coma. He had shrapnel from one of the explosions through his shoulder blades and lower back, and he’d suffered a head injury when a brick had slammed into his skull.

His vitals were stable and he was expected to make a significant recovery…though it was still to be determined how the trauma might impact his vision or his speech pattern.