The Belief in Angels Read Online Free Page A

money I give to you. You waste on these things instead of making a good future for Wendy, for the
kinder
—your family. Wasteful things. All bought with my money. Never again.”
    “Calm down, old man. Sit down.”
    “I won’t sit in this home; I won’t talk
with
you again until you pay me back. Every cent of what you waste. Pay me back and pay your
shyster
friends back. I want nothing to do you with you. I am wrong to try to help you. I see now this
vas
not good, not best for Wendy or for you. This
vas
a mistake in the beginning. I will transfer the deed into Wendy’s name. She can decide what to do with the home and the land. I’ll not be involved in your business any longer. You are children when you started together, but you are adults now. No more money from me. Find your own money.”
    I hear my grandfather’s steps already climbing the den stairs.
    I’m afraid he’s going to leave without coming upstairs to see me. I run out of my room and down the long hallway to the landing on the living room stairwell to try and catch him.
    He’s not coming to the front door. I run the rest of the way down the stairs to the living room. I can see him standing in the kitchen. He’s staring around the room at everything.
    “Hi Grandpa.”
    “Hello, Chavalah.”
    My grandfather calls me by my Hebrew name.
    “Are you going now, Grandpa?”
    “Yes, Chavalah, I’m going home now. Is your neck feeling better?”
    “Yes.”
    My grandfather looks around the kitchen again and says, “You know, when I am a young boy we had a home that had two stories. Our entire home
vas
as big as this kitchen on the bottom and half this size on the top.”
    “Like in
Little Women?
Wow. That’s a tiny house.”
    “It didn’t seem tiny to me.” He smiles.
    We walk out to the living room and he walks over to the two big pictures of my great-grandparents that hang on the wall. They don’t smile in the pictures, and whenever I notice it I want to behave better because it seems like they might be happier if I do.
    “Grandpa, how come they’re not smiling? Are they mad?”
    “
Oy, oy
,” my grandfather says and shakes his head. He does this all the time when he’s playing with us. “They should be.”
    He starts to laugh. I’m glad he’s laughing now.
    “My parents are thinking they are in
Gehanna
with the
beyz
man here.”
    I’m not sure where Gihunna is or what baze men are, but I think he’s talking about my father and it’s not good.
    My grandfather’s leaning against the piano now and scanning the room.
    “Did you know your mother used to play this piano when she
vas
a little girl like you? She practiced every day. She played recitals for us on Sundays after lunch.”
    “Really?” I’ve never heard my mother play the piano. David and I take lessons; otherwise, no one ever plays it.
    “She
vas
a good girl, your mother.”
    He walks over to the bookcases on the living room wall. One whole side of the living room has books from the floor to the ceiling. It’s like we have our own library. I point to the Bobbsey Twins books. “These’re antiques. My mother read these when she was little,” I tell my grandfather, although I’m sure he already knows.
    “Yeh, yeh. Many of these books are hers. She
vas
such a smart little girl. Do you read them?”
    “Absolutely. I’ve read all the children’s books she read. Nancy Drew is my favorite. I’ve started reading the encyclopedias and the grown-up books now.”
    “You’re a smart girl, Chavalah. Keep studying hard and you’ll go to college one day.”
    “My mother goes to college sometimes. She keeps her schoolbooks on this shelf.” I point to the crowded shelf above me where we have to remember not to touch.
    My grandfather looks at all the books and says, “You’re going to be a dedicated scholar, then you will become a great teacher and make me proud. Can we go see your room now?”
    “Sure.”
    On the way upstairs he stops to stare into the dining room at the