Rachel, you take her,” my mother said, clearly uncomfortable. “She might like you.” “No. Mom, no!” I protested, but it was my mother we were talking about, and it was either take the baby or have her hit the floor.

I have a name,” I grumped, my stomach pinching me harder. “Yes, but it has no pizzazz. Ra-a-a-a-chel. Rach-e-e-e-eel,” he said, trying it out in different ways. “No one will tremble in terror at that. Oh my God!” he said in a high falsetto. “It’s Rachel! Run! Hide!

That’s my girl,” she said, her eyes holding a shared pain as she saw my confusion. “Al, where are you going to put her? Not in your room. She’d pull a line through you and kill you when you hog the blankets. I’ll take the waif in. I promise I’ll bring this one up properly.

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

Hate is all that keeps us alive when love is gone. You’re almost there. Not quite ready to let it go yet.

Plan B?' Ivy said. 'What is plan B?' Jenks reddened. 'Grab the fish and run like hell,' he muttered, and I almost giggled.

He just wanted to hold her to him and tell her it would be okay, that she had survived and was beautiful.