“He calls me Josephine. He says I'm an angel, a saint, his good lucky star. I know I'm no angel, but in truth I have begun to like this Josephine he sees. She is intelligent; she amuses; she is pleasing. She is grace and charm and heart. Unlike Rose; scared, haunted and needy. Unlike Rose with her sad life.”

“She wasn't there. He wouldn't have had to look too closely. She stood out from others like an angel in hell or a rose in a sewer.”

“The Rose does not preen herself to catch my eye. She blooms because she blooms. A saint is a saint until he knows he is one.”

“I'm not beautiful, Becca. Only women are.""On the contrary." She gave him a most tender look. "Angels are,too."He groaned and rolled her under him again. "I'm not an angel,either. Angels don't have carnal thoughts like these." He kissed her deeply.”

“so" he asked. She was stunned and amazed-and happier than she'd ever been before. It couldn't possibly be real, she thought-unless she spoke the truth aloud, with Daniel and the rest of the fallen angels there to witness. "I'm Lucinda," she said. "I'm your angel.”

“He said his friend Victor called it a lucky charm, and that it kept him safe in Iraq."She felt her pulse pick up tempo, and she brought her face close to Ben's."Did you say Victor called it a lucky charm?""Uh-huh." Ben nodded. "That's what he said.""Are you sure?""Of course I'm sure."Beth stared at her son, feeling at war with herself.”