Summer of My German Soldier Read Online Free PDF Page B

intelligent letter,” said Grandpa, adjusting hiseyeglasses. “Most people twice your age wouldn’t have written so well.”
    I turned my head to see what my father thought of that. But he was too deep into Look magazine’s story about a soldier’s farewell to hear. And my mother was only interested in her fingernails, which she was filing with a well-used emery board. For a moment I thought I might come right out and ask her if she had liked my letter too, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to give her the impression that her opinion was all that important to me.
    The dining room table was set for fourteen with a fine damask cloth, sterling-silver flatware, and real crystal glasses, two for each setting. Grandma always served Mogen David and I couldn’t remember a time when I was too young for my own wine glass. I could always tell how grown-up Grandma considered me by how much wine she poured. When I was Sharon’s age only the bottom of the glass was covered, but when I was ten it was at the halfway mark. Last Chanukah, and I’m not exaggerating, it was three-quarters.
    At our house we have damask cloths, crystal, and sterling too, but I can’t remember my mother ever using them. Anyway, I know she’s never cooked a dinner like Grandma. Now, Ruth is a very good cook too, but it’s not the same. It’s still like eating somebody else’s food, while Grandma’s is like finally coming home.
    On the gas stove were two restaurant-sized pots, one filled with simmering golden soup and the other had kasha with noodle bows. Grandma opened the door of the oven, slid out the rack, and basted the turkey with a large metal spoon.She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before looking me over. “My grandchildren are growing up,” she said, sighing. “And when do I see you? Why don’t you like visiting your grandmother?”
    “But I do!”
    “I ask your mother why she never brings you on the train with her, she says you’re too busy with all your friends.”
    “My mother told you that?” I asked, not believing.
    “Your mother always tells me that,” she answered.
    “Well, she’s telling a lie.”
    Grandma looked at me and then she nodded her head as if she knew just what to do about it. “Listen, next week we’ll plan a day; you take the eight o’clock morning train and we’ll spend the whole day together. I’ll buy you clothes—anything you want. We’ll have lunch together. You like the top of the Hotel Peabody, the Skyway?”
    “I just love it!” I said. “I’ve never been there but sometimes I listen to WREC; they broadcast the dinner music right from the Skyway. I’ve always wanted to go there. Will Mother go too?”
    “Well,” said Grandma, thinking it over. Suddenly she shook her head No. “Let her stay home. She’ll only tell me you don’t need a thing and somehow we’ll end up shopping for her.”
    “I can’t wait,” I said, feeling as though she had slipped into my team’s colors. Backtracking, I tried to remember exactly what it was Grandma had said about buying me anything I wanted. Did that mean only clothes?
    “Is there something wrong?”
    “Oh, no, ma’am,” I said, knowing it was those two vertical think-lines that sometimes invite themselves to my foreheadthat prompted her question. “It’s just that I was wondering if—I mean, if I don’t buy but one dress and if it’s not too expensive do you think it might be all right if I bought a book? You see, we don’t have a library in town except for the one at school and that’s closed for the summer.”
    Suddenly she held up her index finger. “Wait!” she ordered, leaving the room in a rush. When she returned, she was folding a ten-dollar bill in half. “Take this,” she said, “and buy some nice books and when you finish reading them, I’ll give you money to buy more.”
    Stepping backward I clasped my hands behind my back. I tried to remember why I wasn’t supposed to take the money. “Well, thanks anyway