Mama asked him over for the evening meal. I begged her not to.

She is not good about listening to me.  She said that it was something that Jewish mothers do – that not listening stuff.

She made a meal that was her best. Papa even mentioned how tasty it was and he never says much about food. He normally only talks about money.

They called me to the dinner table and the only place I could sit was right across from Mr. Amazing.  I kept my eyes glued to my plate, afraid I would drool if I lifted my eyes to gaze upon his beauty.

Then he started telling his stories. Pretty soon I started giggling, then laughing uncontrollably.

It was impossible for me to eat without spitting my food out.  I pushed my plate away and stole a glance at him. He was glancing at me, his eyes crinkled at the edges as laughter filled the air.

“So what do you do to occupy your time?” He asked with an inquisitive lifting of his eyebrows.

“I p…” I stopped before the word could slip out.

What would he think if I told him I painted? He may ask to see my paintings. I couldn’t show him what I had painted. He would surely think I had lost my mind.

My face was burning with heat. I looked at my Papa, pleading with unspoken words for him to save me from my embarrassment.

“She putters around the house all day.” Papa said with pride as if puttering was the grandest of all jobs to do.

“She does more than just putter, Papa,” Mama said with a twinkle in her eye as she looked at Papa.

Oh, no, Mama, please don’t say that I paint.

“She helps me mend, she helps me with cooking and she always keeps her room clean. She will make some man a good wife some day.” Mama looked at Mr. Amazing with sincerity.

I had never known Mama to speak an outright lie but that bit about my room being clean was the biggest lie had ever heard.

Mr Amazing was having an affect on my family and even though lying is a sin, somehow I thought God may let that lie slide past.