usually the case when she tried to stop the laughter from overflowing, she succeeded in making it worse. She snickered and hissed and finally gave up and laughed out loud. Moses joined her.
Anna looked at both of them with wide eyes. “Whatever is the matter?”
Lia could think of nothing to say in her defense. And even if she had, she couldn’t talk for the laughing.
But Moses, more quick-witted than she, said, “There is a joke about Delaware that I remembered.”
Lia hoped Moses knew what he was doing, because if Anna asked her to repeat a joke about Delaware, she wouldn’t be able to come up with one single thing.
Anna smiled her motherly smile. “Well, tell us. We don’t want to be left out.”
Moses pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow, but Lia didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t come up with a joke or because his stomach most likely burned with a raging fire. He sat silently for a few seconds and then a light turned on behind his eyes. “What do you call an Amish person in Delaware?”
Anna looked truly puzzled. “What?”
“A visitor.”
Amazed and impressed that Moses could come up with something, anything, for Anna, Lia again burst into stomach-splitting laughter.
Anna watched both of them as if they had sprouted rabbit ears and horse tails right there at the supper table. When their mirth finally died down, Anna, ever the loving grandmother, said, “Oh, you two. A pair of peas in a pod. If that joke makes you happy, it makes me happy.”
In the midst of more laughter, Moses reached over and took Lia’s last one and a half meatballs. Lia ate around the edges of her noodles without getting too much of the sauce while Moses scooped up bite after bite when Anna looked away. Their efforts were enough to make Anna believe Lia had cleared her plate and to start Lia into worrying about Moses’s health.
Felty’s face glowed with sweat, and he repeatedly dabbed his nose with his handkerchief, but otherwise he gave no indication that his throat might be on fire. Anna had eaten only two bites of her own recipe. Compared to Moses’s ruddy complexion, she looked fit as a fiddle. She hopped from her chair and gathered the empty plates. “Who wants pie?”
Lia nudged Moses’s foot with hers. When he looked at her, she shook her head. “Don’t eat one bite of my pie,” she whispered. “You’ll be sick.”
He took another drink of milk and raised an eyebrow. “The pie is that bad?”
“You have done enough for me already.”
Moses turned to Anna and flashed those nice teeth. “I’d love a piece, Mammi.”
Lia lifted her eyes to heaven and shook her head in exasperation. Moses, still bright red in the face, blessed her with a boyish grin. “Remember, Mammi wants to convince me to marry you.”
“I’ll not have you.”
“I’m not looking to marry—unless your pie is extra tasty.”
Lia rose from the table and helped Anna cut pie. She tried to slip Moses an extra-small piece, knowing how terribly he must be suffering already, but Anna would have none of it.
“Moses will want the biggest piece.” She peered at him over her glasses as if to determine what size of piece he would need to fall in love.
When they were all seated again, Moses stuffed a bite of pie in his mouth with more enthusiasm than Lia would have thought possible.
But she didn’t really care if he liked it.
It was just a pie.
It took her a moment to notice that she gripped her fork and her knuckles had turned white.
Moses savored his bite and then nodded in approval. “Delicious. Puts every other raisin pie to shame.”
Lia took a deep breath and relaxed her hand before she lost circulation.
“This is wonderful gute,” Felty said with his mouth full.
Anna fluffed her fork along the top of her piece. “Your crust is so flaky. I was never able to master a flaky piecrust.”
“Nonsense,” Felty said. “Your piecrust is my favorite.”
Lia took a bite. To her relief, the pie tasted
Anna looked at both of them with wide eyes. “Whatever is the matter?”
Lia could think of nothing to say in her defense. And even if she had, she couldn’t talk for the laughing.
But Moses, more quick-witted than she, said, “There is a joke about Delaware that I remembered.”
Lia hoped Moses knew what he was doing, because if Anna asked her to repeat a joke about Delaware, she wouldn’t be able to come up with one single thing.
Anna smiled her motherly smile. “Well, tell us. We don’t want to be left out.”
Moses pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow, but Lia didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t come up with a joke or because his stomach most likely burned with a raging fire. He sat silently for a few seconds and then a light turned on behind his eyes. “What do you call an Amish person in Delaware?”
Anna looked truly puzzled. “What?”
“A visitor.”
Amazed and impressed that Moses could come up with something, anything, for Anna, Lia again burst into stomach-splitting laughter.
Anna watched both of them as if they had sprouted rabbit ears and horse tails right there at the supper table. When their mirth finally died down, Anna, ever the loving grandmother, said, “Oh, you two. A pair of peas in a pod. If that joke makes you happy, it makes me happy.”
In the midst of more laughter, Moses reached over and took Lia’s last one and a half meatballs. Lia ate around the edges of her noodles without getting too much of the sauce while Moses scooped up bite after bite when Anna looked away. Their efforts were enough to make Anna believe Lia had cleared her plate and to start Lia into worrying about Moses’s health.
Felty’s face glowed with sweat, and he repeatedly dabbed his nose with his handkerchief, but otherwise he gave no indication that his throat might be on fire. Anna had eaten only two bites of her own recipe. Compared to Moses’s ruddy complexion, she looked fit as a fiddle. She hopped from her chair and gathered the empty plates. “Who wants pie?”
Lia nudged Moses’s foot with hers. When he looked at her, she shook her head. “Don’t eat one bite of my pie,” she whispered. “You’ll be sick.”
He took another drink of milk and raised an eyebrow. “The pie is that bad?”
“You have done enough for me already.”
Moses turned to Anna and flashed those nice teeth. “I’d love a piece, Mammi.”
Lia lifted her eyes to heaven and shook her head in exasperation. Moses, still bright red in the face, blessed her with a boyish grin. “Remember, Mammi wants to convince me to marry you.”
“I’ll not have you.”
“I’m not looking to marry—unless your pie is extra tasty.”
Lia rose from the table and helped Anna cut pie. She tried to slip Moses an extra-small piece, knowing how terribly he must be suffering already, but Anna would have none of it.
“Moses will want the biggest piece.” She peered at him over her glasses as if to determine what size of piece he would need to fall in love.
When they were all seated again, Moses stuffed a bite of pie in his mouth with more enthusiasm than Lia would have thought possible.
But she didn’t really care if he liked it.
It was just a pie.
It took her a moment to notice that she gripped her fork and her knuckles had turned white.
Moses savored his bite and then nodded in approval. “Delicious. Puts every other raisin pie to shame.”
Lia took a deep breath and relaxed her hand before she lost circulation.
“This is wonderful gute,” Felty said with his mouth full.
Anna fluffed her fork along the top of her piece. “Your crust is so flaky. I was never able to master a flaky piecrust.”
“Nonsense,” Felty said. “Your piecrust is my favorite.”
Lia took a bite. To her relief, the pie tasted
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