Anna's Forgotten Fiancé Read online

  On the surface, her response reminded him of the many conversations he’d had with Joyce, whom he suspected had developed a romantic affection for her brother-in-law’s visiting cousin, Frederick. Joyce vehemently and consistently denied it, until four days before she and Fletcher were scheduled to wed, when she finally admitted the truth. But there was something fundamentally different about Anna, and as she declared her love for Fletcher, she stared into his eyes with such devotion that all of his worries melted away.

  Fletcher remembered how, a few weeks after he and Anna confided their marriage intentions to their families, Melinda and Aaron announced they’d begun meeting with the deacon and they also planned to wed in the spring. Because Melinda seemed especially immature, their decision surprised Fletcher, but he was relieved to confirm Anna was right: Aaron was wholly committed to Melinda. Or so he’d thought at the time. But Anna’s recent note shook his confidence to the core.

  What in the world could have transpired concerning Aaron to make Anna hesitant to carry on with preparations to marry me? Burying his head in his hands, Fletcher shuddered to imagine. He knew from experience that people changed their minds. Engagements could be broken, even days before a wedding. There was still time. Was he was about to be forsaken by his fiancée for another man again? The possibility of having to withstand that kind of rejection a second time made Fletcher’s skin bead with sweat. The only way he’d know for certain was to talk to Anna about her note. But first, she’d have to remember what she meant when she’d penned it.

  Chapter Two

  As the sun began to light the room, Anna peered at her cousin asleep in the twin bed across from her. She rose to make the boys’ breakfast, but when her feet touched the chilly floor, she pulled them back into bed, deciding to snuggle beneath the blankets just a little longer.

  The tiny room on the third floor of the house was actually a part of the attic her father had sectioned off especially for her. More than once she’d knocked her head against the sloping ceiling and the room tended to be hotter in the summer and colder in the winter than the rest of the house, but she had always relished the privacy it afforded her from the four boys.

  She’d had the room all to herself until Melinda’s father sent Melinda to live with Anna’s family a year ago in January because he wanted her to have better influences than he could provide. Naomi’s sister had died twelve years earlier and her brother-in-law never remarried, so Melinda had grown up without any females in her home. It was said by many that she was capricious, or perhaps undisciplined. Some went so far as to call her lazy, a quality condemned by the Amish. Anna observed that the girl was generally willing to perform almost any chore, but she often became distracted in the middle of it and moved on to another endeavor.

  “Half-done is far from done,” was the Amish proverb Anna most often quoted to Melinda the first year of her residence with Anna’s family. Serving as Melinda’s role model had been a frustrating effort, yet Anna mused that if Melinda had committed herself to following God and had been baptized into the church, then her living with them had been worthwhile. It meant Melinda had put her wild Rumspringa years behind her; surely if she’d made that change, there was hope for other areas of her behavior, as well.

  Melinda’s eyes opened. “Guder mariye.” She yawned. “I’m Melinda, your cousin.”

  Anna giggled. “Jah, I know. Are you going to introduce yourself to me every time I wake?”

  Melinda laughed, too. “You were staring at me. I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

  “I was marveling that such a young woman has decided upon marriage already.”

  Melinda sat straight up. “You remembered Aaron and I are getting married!”

  “Neh, Fletcher mentioned it. He thought I already knew.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m not that young—I’m eighteen now. You’re only four years older than I am,” Melinda reasoned. “Besides, I’ve known Aaron over twice as long as you’ve known Fletcher. I think that makes us far better prepared to spend our lives together.”

  “Hmm,” Anna hummed noncommittally. Melinda may have been eighteen, but at times she acted fourteen. Yet Anna couldn’t deny she made a valid point about the brevity of Anna’s relationship with Fletcher. Then she raised her hands to her cheeks as her cousin’s words sank in—she herself was older than she remembered.

  “That’s right, I must be twenty-two now since my birthday was in September! Time flies when you have amnesia.”

  Melinda giggled and the two of them made their beds, got dressed and followed the smell of frying bacon down the stairs. When everyone was seated around the table, Raymond said grace, thanking the Lord especially for Anna’s recovery. She was so hungry that she devoured as large a serving of food as her brothers did.

  “If it’s Saturday, that must mean you’re working a half day today, right?” she asked Raymond and Roy, who both nodded since their mouths were full. “I can drop you off on my way to the shop. Joseph Schrock will be relieved to have me back.”

  “Neh,” Naomi answered. “The doctor said you couldn’t return to work until after your follow-up appointment. In fact, he said you should limit activities of exertion and anything that requires close concentration, such as sewing or reading, until he sees you again.”

  “Nonsense,” Anna argued. “I’m as healthy as a horse—physically, anyway. There’s no reason I can’t ring up purchases and help Englisch customers decide which quilt to purchase or whether their grandchildren might prefer rocking horses or wooden trains. Besides, we need the income and Joseph needs the help.”

  Naomi began twisting her hands. “You have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. Please, won’t you wait until you receive his approval before returning to the shop?”

  Not wishing to cause Naomi any undue anxiety, Anna conceded. “Alright, I’ll wait. But you must at least allow me to help with the housework. How about if I prepare an easy dinner?”

  “That sounds gut,” Melinda interjected. “If I drop the boys off at the work site before I go to the market, I’m certain Fletcher or Aaron will give them a ride home. Perhaps we can invite them for dinner, since Fletcher wanted to check in on Anna again today anyway?”

  Anna caught Naomi’s eye and gave a slight shrug. Melinda’s habit of finagling a way out of chores in order to spend time with Aaron predated Anna’s accident and she remembered her cousin’s tactics well.

  “Jah,” Naomi permitted. “They’re both wilkom to eat dinner with us. But I’ll drop the boys off and go to the market myself. You may begin the housework and assist Anna in the kitchen if she requires it. Evan and Eli have yard and stable chores to complete.”

  Although Anna made a simple green bean and ham casserole for lunch, with apple dumplings for dessert, it took her twice as long as usual and she was grateful when Naomi suggested that she rest before everyone arrived. She felt as if her head had barely touched the pillow when Melinda wiggled her arm to wake her again. She disappeared before Anna could ask for help fixing her hair, because it still pained her head when she attempted to fasten her tresses into a bun. She winced as she pulled her hair back the best she could and pinned on her kapp.

  “Guder nammidaag, Anna,” Fletcher said when he crossed the threshold to the parlor. Warmth flickered along her spine as she took in his athletic, lanky build and shiny dark mane, but she wasn’t flooded with the rush of additional memories she’d been praying to experience at the sight of him. “How are you feeling today?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, denki,” she answered. Standing rigidly before him, trying to think of something to say that didn’t sound so punctilious, she impulsively jested, “You’re Aaron, right?”

  Fletcher looked as if a horse had stepped on his foot. “Neh!” he exclaimed. “I’m Fletcher. Fletcher Chupp, your fiancé. Aaron is my cousin.”

  “I’m teasing!” she assured him, instantly regretting her joke. “I kn
ow who you are.”

  “You do?” he asked, raising his brows. “Your memory has returned?”

  “Oh dear, neh,” she replied. “I mean, I remember you from last night. I know that you’re my fiancé. But neh, I don’t remember anything other than that.”

  For a second time, he grimaced as if in pain, and Anna ruefully fidgeted with her kapp strings, wary of saying anything more for fear of disheartening him further.

  “Naomi and Melinda are putting dinner on the table,” someone said from the doorway.

  When Fletcher moved aside, Anna spotted the familiar brunette hair, ruddy complexion and puckish grin. Although the young man bore a slight family resemblance to Fletcher, he was shorter, with a burly physique.

  “Aaron!” she squealed, delighted to have recognized another person from the past, even if it was someone who’d brought her considerable heartache.

  “I’m happy to see you, too, Anna,” he replied before leading them into the kitchen.

  Because there were two extra people, everyone had to squeeze together to fit around the table and Anna kept her elbows tightly to her side to avoid knocking into Fletcher, whose stature was greater than the other young men’s.

  “You made my favorite dish,” Aaron declared appreciatively after grace had been said and everyone was served.

  “Did I?” She didn’t remember Aaron liking this casserole in particular.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him,” Melinda piped up. “He says every dish is his favorite so the hostess will serve him the biggest helping.”

  Anna thought that sounded more like the jokester Aaron she remembered.

  “Don’t scare me like that,” she scolded. “I panicked my memory loss was getting worse.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Aaron apologized. “But honestly, this casserole is Fletcher’s favorite dish. Right, cousin?”

  Without warning, Fletcher spat the mouthful of noodles he’d been chewing onto his plate and guzzled down his water. Scarlet splotches dotted his face and neck.

  “Does this have mushrooms in it?” he sputtered.

  “Cream of mushroom soup, jah,” Anna answered, appalled by his lack of manners. “I didn’t realize you don’t like them.”

  “I’m allergic to them!” Fletcher wheezed.

  * * *

  “Quick, bring me the antihistamine we use for Evan’s bee sting allergy,” Anna directed Melinda, who darted to the cupboard and produced the bottle.

  Anna poured a spoonful of syrupy pink liquid, which she thrust toward Fletcher’s lips. After he swallowed it, she gave him a second dose.

  “Perhaps Raymond should run to the phone shanty and dial 9-1-1,” Naomi suggested.

  “Neh, the redness is starting to fade,” Anna observed.

  Indeed, Fletcher’s breathing was beginning to normalize and within a few more minutes, his heart rate slowed to a more regular pace. Anna, Melinda and Naomi encircled his chair while the boys remained motionless in their seats, too stunned to move. Aaron nervously jabbed at his noodles with a fork, but didn’t lift them to his mouth.

  Fletcher coughed. “I feel quite a bit better now. Please, sit back down and eat your meal, if you still can after my unappetizing display. I’m sorry about that.”

  “I’m the one who is sorry, Fletcher.” Anna’s voice warbled and her eyes teared up. “I didn’t know you were allergic. I could have killed you!”

  “That’s one way to get out of marrying him,” Aaron gibed, reaching for the pepper.

  “Aaron Chupp, what a horrible thing to say! Anna didn’t do it on purpose,” Melinda admonished, swatting at him with a pot holder in mock consternation as Anna fled the room.

  “It was only a joke,” he objected contritely. “No need to be so sensitive.”

  Fletcher pushed back his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, a little fresh air always helps me feel as if I can breathe better after one of these episodes.”

  He stalked across the backyard, stopping beneath the maple tree. Inhaling deeply, he took a mental inventory of his grievances. First, Anna pretended she thought he was Aaron and then when Aaron actually entered the room, she seemed more delighted to see him than she’d been to see Fletcher. Second, he felt slighted by how carefully Anna avoided his touch. Of course, spitting his food out at the table—even if it was necessary—wasn’t likely going to cause her to draw nearer to him anytime soon. But most irksome of all was Aaron’s jape, That’s one way to get out of marrying him. Was that just another one of his cousin’s goofy attempts at humor, or did the joke have a more weighty meaning?

  Fletcher picked up a stone and threw it as hard as he could in the direction of a wheelbarrow across the yard. With all of his might, he pitched another and another.

  “Gut aim,” Naomi said after each rock had clattered against the metal and he was empty-handed again.

  “I didn’t know you were behind me,” he answered, embarrassed she’d seen his temperamental behavior.

  “I wanted to be certain you were okay. Whenever Evan gets stung, the effects of the adrenaline linger for him, too. He says he has the most irritable thoughts, claiming it’s as if the bees are buzzing around in his brain as well as under his skin.”

  “I don’t know if I can blame my thoughts on adrenaline,” Fletcher replied.

  “Sometimes, we’re not quite ourselves when we’re ill or upset. Not Evan. Not you. Not me. Not Anna,” Naomi said pointedly. “You have to give it time. Things will work out.”

  Naomi Weaver’s gentle way of imparting wisdom reminded him of his own mother. “Jah,” he answered. “I understand.”

  “Gut. Now kumme inside for dessert.”

  Melinda was placing fresh bowls on the table, where the boys sat in silence. Anna had returned to the kitchen and was preparing dessert at the counter with her back to the others.

  “Since I didn’t eat any dinner, I should be allowed two helpings of dessert, don’t you think?” Fletcher questioned Evan, tousling the boy’s hair to break the tension in the room.

  “How do you know if you’ll like it, when you don’t know what it is?” Evan asked.

  “Well,” Fletcher said, winking at him as Anna turned with a tray, “I’ve got high hopes it’s molasses and mushroom pie.”

  Anna paused before pushing her features into an expression of exaggerated dismay. “Oh, dear! I’ve made the wrong thing—I thought mushroom dumplings were your favorite.”

  Fletcher clutched his sides, laughing. Now this was more like the kind of interactions he and Anna usually shared. Hilarity filled the room and when it quieted, Anna announced, “I am truly sorry for my mistake, Fletcher. I meant you no harm.”

  “There’s no need to apologize—I’m the one who should have reminded you.”

  “Do you have any other allergies I should know about?”

  “Just mushrooms,” he stated.

  “Gut.” Then she addressed everyone. “What else has happened around here since early September? Gut or bad, I want to know. I need to know. It may help my memory kumme back. Also, I’d prefer that no one outside of this room, with the exception of the Chupp family, finds out I have my amnesia. In order to ensure that, I’ll need to be made aware of what’s been going on in Willow Creek.”

  “Grace Zook had a bobbel—a girl named Serenity—in January,” Naomi told her.

  “How wunderbaar!” Anna’s fondness of babies was reflected in her tone.

  Melinda added, “Doris Hooley married John Plank last fall, shortly after the tornado.”

  “Was anyone from Willow Creek hurt in the storm?” Anna asked.

  “Neh, not seriously, although many houses and offices needed repair,” Naomi said.

  “Jah, the tornado was gut for business. For a while, we couldn’t keep up with the demand. So I took over as foreman for my daed’s Willow Creek clients in May,” Aaron
stated. “He’s handling the Highland Springs clients. They were hard hit, too.”

  Anna raised her brows and Fletcher wondered whether her expression indicated she was dubious or impressed to hear about Aaron’s promotion to foreman. She extended her congratulations.

  “We lost a beloved family member,” Evan reported, his lower lip protruding. “Timothy.”

  Anna gasped. “Who is Timothy?”

  “He was my turtle. I found him at the creek in October. His foot was injured from a fishing hook and I was caring for him until he was well again.”

  “That’s very sad he died,” Anna said, her mouth pulling at the corners.

  “He didn’t die,” Evan clarified. “We lost him. You lost him. You were supposed to be watching him in the yard after church when it was our Sunday to host, but he crawled off. How could that happen? Turtles are naturally slow on land—and he was injured.”

  It happened because she wasn’t watching the turtle, Fletcher reminisced as wistfulness twisted in his chest. She was with me behind the maple tree and we were sharing our first kiss.

  “I’m sorry but I don’t remember anything about that,” Anna said and it took Fletcher a moment to realize she was speaking to Evan, not him. “How about if you, Fletcher, Eli and I take a walk to the creek to see if he has returned for the spring? Just let me do the dishes first.”

  “I’ll do the dishes,” Naomi insisted. “You ought not to touch any mushroom leftovers, lest your hands kumme into contact with Fletcher and he suffers another allergic reaction.”

  But there was little danger of that. Despite the temporary connection he’d just shared with Anna, Fletcher noticed she stayed closer to Eli and Evan than she did to him as they strolled down the hill, through the field and along the creek. Fletcher knew Anna’s amnesia prevented her from recalling they rarely walked anywhere together without interlocking their fingers, but he felt too tentative about their relationship now to take her hand.