Page 15 of Unforgiven

Lott closed the door behind them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever noticed when his mother had mopped.

“Go straight into the parlor, Son.”

This was getting worse and worse. The only time Mamm ever allowed them in the parlor was when either Preacher Zachariah or Bishop Wood came calling.

Lott followed Seth in, being careful to keep his distance.

“Welcome to our home, Seth.” Wearing a dark gray dress with a white apron and her white kapp, Mamm approached. “I’m sorry that we haven’t had you over until now.”

“No apology needed, ma’am. I understood.”

Sympathy filled his mother’s gaze, but she nodded. “Help yourself to some sandwiches or cookies. Would you care for water or kaffi? The kaffi is fresh.”

“Coffee sounds mighty gut. Danke.”

“Lott?”

“Jah?”

Her eyebrows raised. “What do you want to drink?”

“Kaffi?”

“All right. Sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”

Lott glanced at his father. “What about Daed?”

“I’m not staying,” his father said. “Get yourself something to eat and sit down.”

Lott wasn’t hungry, but he did as he was told. Seth also didn’t seem too enthused, but he helped himself to a plate of sandwiches and a handful of cookies.

Just as tension began to rise between the two of them again, his mother returned. “Here you go, Seth,” she said as she handed him a steaming cup. “And here you go, Lott.”

“Danke, Martha,” Seth said.

“It’s no trouble.” Smiling at his plate, she said, “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

Seth chuckled. “I reckon I do. I don’t have much of an occasion to buy sweets.”

“I’ll make sure to send some home with you.”

“That’s very kind of ya. Danke.”

And then, before he was ready, Lott was alone with Seth. By this time, Seth had already eaten three of the four sandwich squares and two of the cookies. He was studying Lott like he was trying to figure him out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m wondering what’s got you in such a state. Is it me? Is it my past? Or is it something else? Are you this grumpy all the time?”

“Grumpy?”

“I respect your parents enough to keep my mouth G-rated. I’m thinking of something a little more pointed.”

“My parents can’t hear you. Say whatever you want.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” He waved a hand. “Are you saying everything you’re thinking?”

“Nee.” Lott felt a line of perspiration trickle down the center of his back. He was starting to feel like he was in over his head. “I’m not a kid, you know.”

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