“Would you like to make a wager on that, Abby Abernathy?” he smiled, his eyes animated. I smiled. “I’ll take that bet. I think he’ll get one in on you.”

“I’m going to kill you, Abby Abernathy!” America cried. “Kill you!”“Technically, it’s Abby Maddox, now,” I said, smiling at my new husband.”

“He lifts my head up as he gets off the bed and kneels down until we are eye level.I love you Abby. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to come back to me.”

“What kind of husband would I be if I bet against my own marriage?'I smiled. 'The stupid kind. Didn't you listen to your dad when he told you not to bet against me?”

“Would you like a drink?” Politeness wins out over everything else I’d like to say.“No, thank you, Anastasia.” He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked slightly to one side.Well, I might need one.”

“I’ve always thought a body would have to be sick and dying before they saw the Lord. And I imagined that when he came it would be like looking at the Baptist window: pretty as colored glass with the sun pouring through, such a shine you don’t know it’s getting dark. And it’s been a comfort: to think of that shine taking away all the spooky feeling. But I’ll wager it never happens. I’ll wager at the very end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are… …just what they’ve always seen, was seeing Him”