Love Comes Home by Ann H. Gabhart Page A

up a great meal. Mama must have gotten up before daylight to cook.
    When it was time for dessert, Mama sat a whole brown sugar pie in front of Jay. “I thought maybe you would want to slice your own piece.” She handed him the knife.
    Jay smiled at Mama. “Nadine, I want you to know I dreamed about this pie. Whenever things would get bad over there, I’d think about eating another piece of your pie and keep my head down.”
    “What about thinking about us?” Lorena said.
    “Sure, I did that too.” Jay winked at her. “I’d think about all those pieces of my pie you were eating.”
    “You told me to.” Lorena insisted.
    “So I did, but I do have to admit I’m happy to see you aren’t fat as a pig from eating all that pie.”
    “Hey.” She tried to frown, but a smile pushed it off her face. “From now on, eat your own pie.”
    “That I can do.” Jay studied the pie a minute, then sliced right through the middle of it. He slid one of the halves out on his plate. “There, that’ll probably do me right now.”
    When everybody laughed, Jay looked around the table. “You think I’m kidding? Well, you’re wrong.” He attacked the pie with his fork. “Umm, even better than I remembered.”
    “Mercy sakes,” Aunt Hattie said. “Don’t know that I ever saw a boy like pie so much, ’cepting maybe my Bo. He did love my raisin pie. You remember Bo? He didn’t make it home from that first war, you know.” She looked across the table at Jay.
    Down at the end of the table, Evie let out a heavy sigh. Kate spoke up quickly to keep Aunt Hattie from noticing. “We didn’t get to know him, Aunt Hattie, but we wish we could have.”
    “Us old ones remember, Hattie.” Graham said. “And those raisin pies too. They were fine.”
    “Better than fine,” Kate’s father added.
    “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.” Aunt Hattie shook her head. “Course you babies here don’t remember. You weren’t even born then. My old head loses track of the years from time to time. Hard to think about being eighty and that it’s been nigh on forty years since Bo went on ahead of me to heaven.”
    “You think he’s eating raisin pie in heaven?” Jay asked her between mouthfuls of brown sugar pie.
    “He might have to wait till I’m up there for that to happen.” Aunt Hattie’s laugh made her wrinkles dance. “You just keep on enjoyin’ that pie down here, son, and we’ll enjoy a little of it with you. If I know Nadine, she made plenty.”
    “I did,” Mama said. “Lorena, get the other pie out of the pie safe.”
    “Somebody can have my piece,” Evie said. “I never cared all that much for brown sugar pies anyway.”
    Since when, Kate wanted to ask, but she kept her mouth shut. Some stews were better left simmering instead of stirred up.
    “Birdie can have it. Now that she’s not getting my piece.” Jay took another bite and closed his eyes as he chewed.
    “I think your pie is about to make the boy float up in the air.” Kate’s father reached for his slice.
    “I am being transported.” Jay took another bite. “I knew this place was the closest thing to heaven the first time I came here. Beautiful women. Divine food. Books everywhere.” He glanced over at Mike. “Wedding music. All thanks to you, buddy.”
    “The Lord works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform.” Mike smiled almost like old times as he dug into his pie.
    With pie still on his plate, Jay groaned and pushed away from the table. “Don’t throw any of that away. I’ll eat the rest later, but my poor stomach’s not used to such good food. Got to break it in slowly.”
    “Could be you should have taken a smaller slice,” Graham told him.
    “When somebody offers you a slice of heaven, you grab hold of as much of it as you can.” Jay reached for Kate’s hand and then Lorena’s. “And you hang on.”
    “Can’t argue with that,” Graham said.
    “Heaven don’t come down ev’ry day,” Aunt Hattie said.
    “Not