“Typical" Kisten said, his eyes dramatically sad. "Try to do something nice for a person, cheer her up, and what do I get? Abused and robbed.”

“Do you hurt uncle Kisten', he asked.(...) but Kisten beat me to it. “Only my heart, Audric,” he said. “Ms. Rachel is like the sun. See her sparkling there with the wind in her hair and fire in her eyes? You can’t catch the sun. You can only feel its touch on your face. And if you get too much of it, it burns you.”

“Kisten, please don't leave me," I begged, and his eyes opened."I'm cold," he said, fear rising in his blue eyes.I held him tighter. "I'm holding you. It's going to be okay.""Tell Ivy," he said with a gasp, clenching in on himself. "Tell Ivy that it wasn't her fault. And tell her that at the end... you remember love. I don't think... we lose our souls... at all. I think God keeps them for us until we... come home. I love you, Rachel.""I love you, too, Kisten," I sobbed, and as I watched, his eyes, memorizing my face, silvered, and he died.”

“Rache,” he said, trying to get into my line of sight. “What more do you need? God to send a telegram?" (Jenks)”

“Edden called the church first,” she said by way of greeting, her thin eyebrows high as she spotted Ford’s arm linked in mine. “Hi, Ford.” The man reddened at the lilt she’d put in her last words, but I wouldn’t let him take his arm back. I liked being needed. “He’s having trouble with the background emotion,” I said. “And he’d rather be abused by yours?” Nice.(Ivy, Rachel and Ford)”

“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.”

“Okay, I like him,” I admitted. “But it takes more than a nice body, Jenks. Jeez, I do have a little depth. You’ve got a great body, and you don’t see me trying to get into your Fruit of the Looms.”