Stolen Grace Read Online Free PDF Page A

friend Joey says that God is dog spelled backwards so he must be a dog but you always use a capital letter when you say God’s name. Why does God get a capital letter?”
    “Good point,” Tommy said. “That pie smells good.”
    “Because” Sylvia said, “there is only one God. At least in America that’s true. Where you came from—India—there are lots of gods.”
    “Like Ganesh, the elephant god?”
    “That’s right,” Tommy answered. “And Hanuman, the monkey god.”
    “A capital letter is a big letter, right?” Grace asked.
    “Exactly. Like when we were writing Grace the other day for writing practice, and we made a big G,” her mom replied, serving out some apple pie on a plate for Grace.
    “Our God is a dog,” Tommy piped up, “and God is a tree and a flower. In fact, God is all the trees and flowers and grass and animals of the universe.”
    Grace bit her lower lip and thought about this. It didn’t make sense. “But if I pick a flower does that mean I’ll kill God?”
    Tommy laughed. He went over to the refrigerator and took out a beer.
    “No, of course not, sweetie, God lives forever,” her mom explained, tying a napkin about Grace’s neck. “Careful with the pie. Blow on it first—it’s hot.”
    “Oh.” Grace considered this some more. “But if God is everything and he is a dog and a rabbit and a flower and a tree, then that means he is you, Daddy, and you, Mommy, and—”
    “That’s correct,” Tommy said, and winked, “very observant. God is in everything good.”
    Grace took a big spoonful of pie. The apple part, not the crust. She saw her mom smile, but this God thing was serious. She needed answers. How could God with a big G be everywhere at once? Wasn’t he too busy? Grace had been told about brains, that each creature, each human had a brain, and that would mean God would have millions and trillions of brains because every brain was His and that, in fact, to be so on top of it all, God must actually be a computer. But if He was a computer, he wouldn’t have a real live brain at all. And if God was living inside a rabbit, did that make him think like a rabbit? Or want to make millions of babies the way rabbits did? She wanted to ask this but was worried her mom would stop smiling. Not about the rabbit part but about the computer part. She’d ask her dad later. He’d understand.
    Grace thought of another problem: “Mommy, when’s your friend coming to stay?” She didn’t want the friend to steal her Mom-Time.
    “That’s right,” Sylvia said, walking over to the sink. “I forgot to tell you, Tommy, Ruth is coming to stay for a couple of weeks.”
    He took a swig of beer. He still hadn’t sat down at the table. “Ruth?”
    “She’s Mommy’s Skype Friend,” Grace explained. “The one she talks to about Writing ,” (yawn, yawn). “I’ve seen her. She looks like a weasel.”
    Sylvia doused a pan with some dishwashing liquid and began to scrub. “Ruth does not look like a weasel, sweetie. You loved her when she came to stay a couple of years ago.”
    “I can’t remember her. But on Skype she has eyes the color of poop!” Grace thought of all those long, BORING conversations they had. Stealing her mom away from her.
    Sylvia laughed but shook her head. “Such nonsense. Ruth is very attractive, actually. She’s fun.”
    “Well I was away when she last came to stay,” Tommy said, “so I wouldn’t know about her eyes. It’s true though—you do Skype a lot. How come she didn’t come last summer to stay?”
    “She’s been living abroad. In Dubai. That’s why I thought it would be fun if she came to visit now—she left her job, so has some free time. It would be nice if we discussed our projects face to face for once, instead of always online.”
    “Well you do seem to have a lot to chitchat about,” Tommy said, taking another gulp of beer.
    Sylvia stopped her scrubbing. “It’s nice to get feedback.” She gave him an angry smile. But dipped in