“I didn’t mean now,” he protested. “I’m not going to raise the child. I’m having enough trouble with Rachel.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you little shoemaker,” I said (Rachel to Trent)”

“I’m not going to pick her up and carry her screaming to the basement,” Trent said. “It’s a workday. Besides, she has a crutch.” “Crutch or no, she’s hurt!” Ceri protested. “I mean,” Trent said intently, “she can hit me with it if I do something she doesn’t like.”

“Rachel,” came a raspy voice from the upper level, and both Trent and I turned. It was Quen, wrapped in a blanket as if it was a death shroud, the black-haired intern at his side, supporting him. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and I could see him wavering as he stood there. “Don’t touch Trenton,” he said, his gravelly voice clear in the hush, “or I’m going to have to come down there…and smack you around.”

“I’m giving you fair warning, Mr. Cormel. If you bespell Rachel, I’ll open up your head for the sunshine to come in.” - Jenks”

“I didn’t know what I was going to say, a feeling that was compounded when the line clicked open and Trent’s very muzzy voice murmured, “Rachel? Mmm, hi.”

“I gotta go,” I wheezed. “This is shitty, you know? How do you live like this?” “Rachel!” he cried, but it was too late,(Rachel and Al)”