The Prodigal Son Read Online Free PDF Page A

depending on their mood. Jacob, however, was a throw back on his maternal grandfather, a thick thatch of blond hair topping an oval face with a skin tone just like hers – pale with pink in winter, tawny gold in summer. But his eyes were the same magical hazel as his siblings’.
    “They’re so beautiful,” Alex said, slipping her hand into Matthew’s.
    “Very.”
    “This is where you’re supposed to say they all take after their mother,” Simon laughed from behind them.
    “But then he’d be lying,” Alex said, squeezing Matthew’s hand once before letting it go. “All of them look like their father – gorgeous.”
    “Besotted,” Simon sighed as Alex moved away. “I don’t know how you do it, but you’ve turned that poor woman’s head.”
    “I heard you,” Alex called back over her shoulder. “Supper soon, your favourite Simon; spinach soup.”
    “Ugh,” Simon muttered.
    Supper was a loud and cramped affair, the entire household squeezed together round the kitchen table. As always Matthew sat at the head of the table, even if he did offer Simon the single chair with a rather rude referral to Simon’s overall size. Not that Simon seemed bothered, calmly sliding in to sit on one of the benches.
    “Girth has nothing to do with grace,” he said, winking at Alex. “I dare say I can still best you on the dance floor, Matthew Graham.”
    Most probably, Alex grinned, because for all his general resemblance to an apple on legs Simon was by far the most graceful and tenacious dancer she’d ever seen.
    Alex liked her kitchen – especially on occasions such as these, when it was full of talking, laughing people. Over the last few years she’d implemented quite a few changes, starting with how clean she kept things. The previously dark and sooty walls now received regular scrubbings, the floors were swept on a daily basis and once a week she had Sarah and Janey on their knees with a bristle brush. The small window allowed some daylight even in winter, but now, in full summer, the kitchen door was always kept propped open, and on an evening as light as this one there was no need to use the tallow candles that stood on the table, daylight spilling in through the open door.
    For all that they all looked rather depressed at the sight of the dark green soup, in a remarkably short time the bowls had been emptied, her family cheering up at the sight of the pie she had Janey fetch from the pantry.
    “Chess?” Matthew stood, brushed some pie crumbs off his shirt and jerked his head in the direction of the parlour.
    “By all means,” Simon said, “and this time…”
    “When pigs fly,” Matthew snorted, “but it’s good that you try.” He kissed Alex on his way out, murmuring that he didn’t think the spinach soup had gone down well – with anyone.
    “Too bad,” Alex said, “I have enough left for dinner tomorrow.” She laughed at his grimace and shooed him off before going over to inspect the leftovers and set the oats to soak for tomorrow’s breakfast.
    “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Simon was saying when Alex entered the parlour. The chess board had been shoved to the side, with both men sitting staring into the fire.
    “Aye, it is.” Matthew sighed and extended his long legs in front of him. “They’re raising an army, Sandy says – he had it from yon Carstairs – an army that has as its single purpose to root out every single Covenanter here in the southwest.”
    “Good luck to them,” Alex said. “That would mean more or less everyone living here.” This was Presbyterian land – from here all the way to Ayr and up to Lanark.
    “We’ll see; it may be they’ve taken on more than they bargained for,” Matthew said, an edge of steel to his voice.
    Alex frowned; over her husband’s head she met Simon’s concerned eyes and made a helpless gesture. Matthew Graham was a very stubborn man and there were some principles he wasn’t about to compromise on, foremost amongst them