The Summer House(111)

Sanchez gets up and says, “I’ll go grab a nurse.”

Connie lightly squeezes my hand—and, like the tough cop she is, immediately asks, “Did we get her?”

“Yes,” I say.

“The Rangers okay?”

Staff Sergeant Jefferson is at the foot of her bed. “Yes, ma’am. Thanks to you and your folks, we’re all okay.”

Connie smiles, closes her bruised eyes. “That’s good.”

Sanchez comes back, saying, “Two nurses are right behind me, Major.”

“Thanks,” I say.

Sanchez says, “It’s going to get pretty crowded in here. It’s almost 1:00 p.m. You want to step out, get some lunch?”

I squeeze Connie’s hand once more and look at her, and then at the staff sergeant, who’s looking at me with something I’ve rarely seen from a combat soldier.

Respect.

“No,” I say, thinking of Connie and the Army. “I’m not going anywhere.”