DISOWNED Read Online Free Page B

away. Like your stupid mother, sitting up there and writing her crazy poems day after day."
       In all of this world there is no one Devorah disrespects more than her daughter Molly. "And who cares about her poems?  Nobody. Sitting up there and dreaming when she should be bringing our exile to an end!"
    Fortunately then the front door opens and they both hear Moshe, Rivkah's grandfather come in. He comes straight from synagogue into the kitchen smiling. Smile, grandpa, smile.
    Moshe is a small man, slender and sparkly and whatever he sees, whatever he learns, thrills him completely. "Do you know what I learned in synagogue today, little Rivkah?" He comes over and puts his fine, white hands gently on top of her head. Warm, sweet light pours like fresh rain through Rivkah. Every night he comes home and blesses Rivkah this way. And if Devorah is there, she always turns away.
       "What did you learn, grandpa?" Rivkah whispers, moving a little closer to him.
    "Never mind," Devorah interrupts them.
       "I learned, that everyone in the world is precious. Each one of us. We belong." He's so happy to say it.
       "Every night you learn that." Devorah tries to get between them.
    "Move over, Moshe."
       He doesn't.
       "You're standing too close to her."
       "Shoot me, Dubbie."
       "Everyone is precious, grandpa?" Rivkah wants him to say it again.
       "There is a way to interpret everything," Devorah puts her hand on his shoulder and pushes him to the side.
       "I learned it," Moshe hums cheerily, and pushes back playfully. "A good piece of learning, you can learn every hour. Isn't it wonderful?" Then he turns to Rivkah like a little elf. 
       "Moshe! You want to confuse Rivkah, and isn't she confused enough?"
    A silent war goes on between her grandmother and grandfather, but it doesn't faze him at all. He refuses to fight it.
       "A war's not a war if you refuse to fight it," he told Rivkah one night. "It's something else then."
       "What?"
       "It takes two to hate," he is definite about it. "I will not be one of them. Not me."
       "What else did you learn tonight grandpa?" Rivkah pipes up now, loud and strong. 
    "I also learned," he continues, "that if your home isn't a place for every single person, then it really isn't a home! For Abraham, his tent was open for everyone!"
    Devorah turns her back to him completely now. "We're not living
    in the times of Abraham. Moshe! Leave Rivkah alone. I demand it. She's getting older. She has a restless nature. You know what was on her mind today? Springtime! Anyone can see trouble is coming."
       "Trouble isn't coming, Dubbie."
       "Don't call me Dubbie! Behave yourself. It isn't proper for a girl of her age to hear you call me Dubbie. Where's the modesty? Where's the self respect?" 
       "She waits for me, Dubbie. Anyone can see it."
       "So, if she waits, whose fault is it?  Who started this?" And Devorah raises both her hands then, as if getting ready to push hard. 
       Moshe acquiesces. He has to acquiesce. After all, she's taller than him, bigger, smarter. She cooks, cleans and runs the family business. Where would he be without his Dubbie? Lost! Anyone can see it in a minute! So he stands there silently and closes his eyes.
       "Moshe, open your eyes!"
       His eyes stay shut. Then he starts to sing a little hasidic tune.
       "Moshe," she interrupts his humming.  "Open your eyes. I demand it."
    But how can he? If he opens his eyes, what will he see? Much better to go deep within, far into his beautiful melody that holds him and sustains him even in the face of his enormous Dubbie.
      "Rivkah, come cook with me. Right this minute." Devorah pulls at Rivkah's arm.
       "Go," he agrees his eyes still half closed.
       So Rivkah goes and they cook and cook until everything is ready. Soon the whole world is filled with the smells of Devorah's cooking.  But when Rivkah eats the food it makes her cry. It makes her