“Do you think the Devil is real then?” she asked. If God wasn’t up in heaven answering a desperate mother’s prayers then maybe Satan didn’t exist either.“He is real,” Gabriel answered quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “I look him in the eye every day.”

“Do you not pray, Miss Smallwood?'She avoided his gaze. 'No.''God is speaking to you every day,' he said softly. 'You might return the favor.'She raised her chin. 'I don't hear Him.''Do you listen?'She looked at him, clearly offended, then turned away again. 'I used to pray, until I found God was not listening, at least not to my prayers.'[He] heard the inner voice of caution but barreled ahead. 'He was listening. But He doesn't always answer the way we would like Him to.”

“You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers."Real," I answer. "Because that's what you and I do, protect each other.”

“What did you call her?" she asks but I don't think it's her real question."Sunshine," I say, and she smiles like she believes it's perfect and she may be the only person other than me who would think so."What is she to you?" she whispers. The real question and I know the answer even if I don't know how to say it.Drew's muffled voice rises up from the floor before I can respond."Family," he says.And he's right.”

“Maybe he was real. Maybe I'd made him up. Either way, he didn't think I needed him anymore. Maybe he was right.”

“[Moishe] explained to me, with great emphasis, that every question possessed a power that was lost in the answer....And why do you pray, Moishe?' I asked him.I pray to the God within me for the strength to ask Him the real questions.”