A rib of beef had already been taken from the fridge and would cook slowly, Matthew was told, until it melted in the mouth. There was music playing and Jonathan was singing along, loud and tunefully, and starting to pull out the ingredients he needed for the grand birthday cake. Not talking about a relative, but a member of the Brethren, the community into which he’d been born.īy the time he’d showered and dressed, Jonathan was up too. He still couldn’t quite believe her change of heart and wasn’t sure if he’d be hurt or relieved if she called the meeting off at the last minute, making some excuse about a sick sister or brother. This was his mother’s birthday and she would soon be sitting at their long kitchen table eating Sunday lunch. He’d always found work easier, certainly less complicated, than the personal baggage which weighed him down. There remained the sense of unease that had nothing to do with the investigation. ON SUNDAY MORNING MATTHEW VENN WOKE early, as he always did. Illustration by Stan Fellows Chapter Thirteen
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |