The Prodigal Son (The Graham Saga Book 3) by Anna Belfrage

Author:Anna Belfrage [Belfrage, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Timelight Press
Published: 2017-05-26T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Even if Matthew recuperated from his ordeal in a matter of days, the coming week was sombre. So many men to lose their lives, so many families left destitute now that the man of the house was dead.

Once over her initial fright, Alex was angry with Matthew – no, she was royally pissed off at him – for having been so inconsiderate as to risk his life for something that ended up a gesture, no more. Still; what was the point of being mad at a person who was so sunk in gloom, so devastated by what was happening to people he’d grown up with, had known since he was a boy? He needed her, and anyway, she hated being angry with him, it made her itch all over. So on the fourth night after the explosion, she crawled into bed, opened her arms and held him to her chest as he told her exactly what had happened and why he’d been driven to do it. All the same, it was something of a relief when Joan and Simon rode in on an unannounced visit, and then of course, there was Ian’s birthday to plan for.

“Here.” Mark looked embarrassed at the delighted look on Ian’s face and scampered back to where his father stood.

“For me?” Ian looked from the puppy to Matthew.

“Aye, for you. You’re old enough now to have a dog.” Matthew smiled at Ian, slipping an arm round Alex.

Ian touched the soft, folded ears, the coarse brindle coat and laughed when the puppy nibbled his fingers, sinking sharp white teeth into his skin.

“It’s a Deerhound,” Mark said. “Da says they grow to be very large.”

Matthew held out his hand in a rough indication, making Ian’s eyes widen in delight, while Alex muffled an unenthusiastic groan.

“It’s not allowed in bed,” she said, intercepting sly looks between Jacob, Mark and Ian. “And if things happen you clean it up.”

Ian promised he would, sinking his face into the dog’s neck.

“What will you call it?” Rachel asked, crouching down to pat the puppy.

“Aragorn,” Ian said, making Alex smile.

“When I get mine I’ll call it Arthur,” Rachel said.

“You? You won’t get one.” Mark sounded scornful. “That’s a man’s dog.”

“I will too get one,” Rachel glared, grabbing her father’s hand. “Tell him, Da. Tell him you’ll give me a bonny dog like that when I’m twelve.”

“We’ll see, lassie. You might want something else.”

“No, I want a dog.”

“Hallelujah moment,” Alex muttered in sotto voce to Matthew. “Imagine the house full of teenagers and huge dogs.” He looked confused. “Teenagers: horrible age between thirteen and nineteen, generally characterised by being obnoxious, growing at a worrying rate, discovering sex, booze and rock and roll.”

“Rock and roll, aye?” Matthew murmured back. “It was a long time since you did any singing for me.” He sharpened his gaze. “And there will be no… err… sex until they are wed. Well, not under my roof,” he qualified, which made her grin.

*

If the dog had been a success, the letter from Mam was the major surprise of Ian’s day.

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