Page 49 of Unforgiven

“But not anymore?”

“We’re friendly but don’t see each other much. Hannah is a nanny for a Mennonite family on the other side of Marion.”

“I hope she isn’t expected to walk there.”

Melonie wasn’t sure if Lorne was joking or complaining. Not that it mattered. “I believe they pick her up and take her home whenever she works. She’s a nice girl.”

“I hope so.”

What did that mean? “We can stay as long or as short a time as you’d like.”

“I’ll let you know what I want to do.”

“Sounds good.” It was hard not to roll her eyes.

He cast another dark look her way. “You know, doing this together wasn’t my idea. It was our mothers’.”

“I know. I guess we’ll both have to get through the rest of the visit as best we can.”

“I didn’t mind. At least I got to come here. I’m looking for a spouse, you know.”

His phrasing set her off, but she wasn’t exactly sure what didn’t sit well with her. Was it the term spouse? Or was it that he was looking for a wife instead of hoping to fall in love? She didn’t know what to say to that, so she merely stuffed her hands in her cloak and started praying that the Bylers’ haus would suddenly appear over the next ridge.

“I have no interest in you. I hope you know that.”

She looked up at him. “I do now.” She smiled, hoping he understood that this was a good thing. Only proper manners prevented her from telling Lorne exactly what she thought of him.

His lips didn’t curve even a millimeter. “My parents are too polite to mention your brother, but he has tainted your reputation.”

“Are you serious?” She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to talk bad about Seth.

“To be sure. He’s a murderer.”

“Seth is not. The man he was fighting fell and hit his head on a rock. The death was an accident.”

“Obviously the police and the judge thought differently.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I have a better idea than you do.” He scoffed. “Do you really imagine that any man of good standing would want anything to do with you now?”

Lott did. She held on to that feeling while cautioning herself to choose her words carefully. “Lorne, I think we should turn around and go home.”

“No way. If we return right now, I’m going to be forced to sit in your family’s living room and play cards.”

At last—or maybe unfortunately—the Bylers’ haus was up ahead. In the yard were a bonfire, some tiki torches, and a good-sized gathering. At least thirty people, most everyone holding a can of soda. The Bylers had gone all out. A long table with a tablecloth on it held an array of food.

Lorne straightened up and squared his shoulders—like he was anxious to charge in and meet girls.

“You better not embarrass me,” she warned.

“The only thing that will be embarrassing is having to admit to people that we’re related. Hopefully no one will hold that against me.” Looking her over, he said, “After all, one can’t help who one is related to.”

“I was just thinking that very same thing,” she said, her voice full of sarcasm.

But of course Lorne didn’t catch it. He was already scanning the crowd.

Her footsteps slowed as she noticed several people turn her way but not acknowledge her. Had Lorne been right? Were people polite to her face but actually didn’t want anything to do with her?

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