Anna's Forgotten Fiancé

by Carrie Lighte

  Someone cleared her throat behind him. He turned as Anna made her way down the hall. Her honey-blond tresses, customarily combed into a neat bun, were loosely arranged at the nape of her neck, her fair skin was a shade paler than it normally was and she clutched a drab shawl to her shoulders, but she took his breath away all the same. Rendered both speechless and immobile with conflicting emotions, he choked back a gasp.

  Her eyes were downcast, carefully watching her footing as she tentatively stepped into the room. He studied her heart-shaped lips and oval face, her slender nose and the tiny beauty mark on her left cheekbone. But it was the vast depth of her eyes, accentuated with a curl of lashes and gently arched brows, he yearned to behold. Fletcher and Anna had often conveyed a world of feeling with a single glance, and, in spite of everything, he hoped one glimpse into her eyes would convince him of her abiding love.

  “Anna,” he stated, moving to offer her his arm to help steady her gait.

  She looked up and locked her eyes with his. Even in the dim glow cast by the oil lamp, he could appreciate their magnificent emerald green hue. She seemed to be searching his features, reading his expression, taking in his presence. He waited for what felt like an eternity, but his gaze was met by an impassive blankness.

  “I’ve been told you’re my fiancé, Fletcher,” she finally said, although it sounded more like a question than a statement. His last wisp of hopefulness dissipated when she shook his outstretched hand, as if they were strangers meeting for the first time.

  * * *

  As Fletcher’s expectant countenance crumbled into one of stark disappointment, Anna immediately regretted her gesture. What was she thinking, to shake his hand like the Englisch would? She wasn’t working in the shop, introducing herself to a customer. She didn’t understand why everything seemed so jumbled in her mind.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to sit,” she said and settled into a straight-backed chair, which made Fletcher frown all the more.

  He perched on the edge of the sofa nearest her, leaning forward on his knees. His large, sky blue eyes, coupled with an unruly shock of dark hair, gave him a boyish appearance, but his straight nose and prominent brow and jawline were the marks of a more mature masculinity. She wondered how she could have forgotten knowing such a physically distinctive young man.

  “I’ve been very concerned about you,” he stated. “How are you feeling?”

  “Denki, I’m doing better,” she said, although she had a dull headache. “Oh! But where are my manners? I should offer you something to drink. Would you like a cup of—”

  She rose too quickly from her chair and the room wobbled. Fletcher again offered her his help, which she accepted this time, grasping his muscular forearm until the dizziness passed. Then he assisted her back into her seat.

  “I didn’t kumme here to drink kaffi, Anna,” he said, crouching before her, still holding her hand. “I came here to see you.”

  Flustered by his scrutiny and the tenderness of his touch, she pulled her arm away and apologized. “I’m sorry I look so unkempt, but combing my hair makes my head ache.”

  He shook his head, insisting, “I wouldn’t care if your hair were standing on end like a porcupine’s quills, as long as I know you’re alright.”

  Although she sensed his sentiment was earnest, her eyes smarted. Couldn’t he see that she wasn’t alright? And didn’t he understand his nearness felt intrusive, given that she had absolutely no memory of him? He seemed so intense that she didn’t want to offend him, but she wished he’d back away.

  As if reading her thoughts, Fletcher retreated to his cushion on the sofa and said, “It’s okay if you don’t remember me yet, Anna. The doctor said this could happen. They told us your memories might return in bits and pieces.”

  Anna nodded and relaxed her shoulders. She hadn’t realized how uptight she’d felt. She noticed his voice had a soothing quality. It was deep and warm, like her dad’s was.

  “Melinda told me a bit about you, but I have so many questions, I don’t know where to start,” she confessed.

  “Why don’t I give you the basics and if there’s anything else you want to know, you can ask?” Fletcher questioned. When Anna nodded in agreement, he said, “Let’s see—my name is Fletcher Josiah Chupp and I’m twenty-four. My daed was a carpenter. He and my mamm passed away by the time I was fifteen. I have three older sisters, all married, and sixteen nieces and nephews. I moved to Willow Creek, Pennsylvania, from Green Lake, Ohio, in September. My onkel Isaiah had been in dire need of another carpenter on his crew for some time.”

  “Because my daed died?”

  Fletcher glanced down at his fingers, which he pressed into a steeple. “Jah. Your daed worked for Isaiah and he had a reputation among the Englisch of being an excellent carpenter. He left a big gap in my onkel’s business. No one could ever fill his shoes.”

  “No one could ever replace him as a daed, either,” Anna murmured. After a pause, she asked, “So then, you live with your ant and onkel, and with Aaron and his sisters?”

  “Neh. There wasn’t room enough for me there. I live in my groosdaaddi’s home.”

  “Elmer! Your groossdaadi is Elmer Chupp! I remember him,” Anna exclaimed. Then she realized aloud, “But of course I would, wouldn’t I? I’ve known him for years. He was my daed’s first employer, before Isaiah took over their family business. You must greet him for me.”

  Fletcher rubbed his forehead. “I don’t want to distress you, Anna, but my groossdaadi died in late December from pneumonia.”

  “Neh! Oh, neh!” Anna’s bottom lip began to quiver.

  “His passing was peaceful and it’s a blessing to know he’s not suffering the pain he endured toward the end,” Fletcher said. “He always appreciated the soups and meals you made for him. And you were very consoling to me while I mourned.”

  “Dear Elmer Chupp.” Anna clucked sorrowfully. “Didn’t you say you lived with him?”

  “Jah, I moved in with him when I first arrived in Pennsylvania,” Fletcher clarified. “Now I live there alone. After you and I became betrothed, I discovered Groossdaadi willed his house to me, as his first grandson to tell the family of my intention to marry. For some reason, Groossdaadi chose not to follow the traditional Amish practice of bequeathing it to his youngest son, my onkel Isaiah. In any case, there were property taxes due, which you and I paid from my construction salary and your savings from working at Schrock’s Shop, so the house is as gut as ours.”

  Anna’s mind was reeling. She and Fletcher owned a house? On one hand, getting married and setting up her own household was a desire she’d harbored for years. On the other hand, with every new piece of information revealed to her, she was becoming increasingly uneasy at how seriously her life was intertwined with the life of a man who seemed like a virtual stranger, albeit, an appealingly thoughtful and stalwart one.

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, she admitted, “I’m confused about the timing. In Willow Creek, it’s customary for most Amish couples to keep their courtships as private as they can. They wait until July or August to tell their immediate families that they intend to marry. Their wedding intentions aren’t published in church until October, and wedding season follows in November and December, after harvest. Yet Melinda says it’s now March. Why did we already tell our families we intend to marry next fall?”

  “We actually intend to marry next month,” Fletcher responded. “You don’t recall, but last October, Willow Creek was struck by a tornado. So many houses were damaged that Bishop Amos allowed those betrothed couples who needed to help their families rebuild to postpone their weddings until April. Of course, you and I were just getting to know each other last October, so we weren’t yet engaged, but by January, we were certain we wanted to get married. We decided to take advantage of the bishop’s special provision allowing for spring weddings this year.”

  “We only met in Sept
ember and we’re getting married in April?” Anna asked, unable to keep her voice from sounding incredulous. Six months was a brief courting period for any couple, and it seemed especially out of character for her. She had walked out with Aaron for over two years. As fondly as she dreamed of becoming a wife and a mother, lingering qualms had kept her from saying yes to Aaron’s proposals, no matter how many times he asked. How was it she’d decided so quickly to marry Fletcher?

  “Jah,” he stated definitively. “As we confirmed to the deacon, we fully and unequivocally believe the Lord has provided us for each other.”

  Anna understood the implications. Prior to making their engagements public, Amish couples underwent a series of meetings with the deacon during which time the couple received counseling on the seriousness of entering into a marriage relationship. Although Anna had no recollection of those meetings, she knew if she and Fletcher completed the series and announced their intentions, it meant they were resolute about getting married.

  “Have the wedding intentions been published in church?”

  “They were announced on Sunday,” Fletcher replied. “We’ll be wed on Tuesday, April 7, five days before Easter and a week before Melinda and Aaron get married.”

  Anna inhaled sharply. “Melinda and Aaron are getting married?”

  “Uh-oh,” Fletcher said, smacking his forehead with his palm. “I assumed Melinda already told you.”

  “She probably didn’t want to upset me.”

  Fletcher cocked his head. “Why would Melinda marrying Aaron upset you?”

  “I d-don’t know,” Anna stammered. “I have no idea why I said that.”

  She was far more concerned about her own wedding than Melinda’s. I might as well be marrying the prince of England as this man, for as foreign as he is to me, Anna thought, deeply disturbed. Perhaps I should consider canceling our upcoming nuptials?

  “You were so excited after the intentions were published that you mailed the invitational letters to all of our out-of-town friends and family members first thing on Monday morning,” Fletcher said. “Of course, the leit at church were invited and I extended several personal invitations on Monday evening, as well.”

  Upon hearing just how far their plans had progressed, Anna felt as overwhelmed by the prospect of calling off the wedding as she was by the prospect of carrying through with it. She silently prayed, Please, Lord, if I really do know and love Fletcher Chupp and believe he’s Your intended for me, help me to remember soon. If he isn’t, please make me certain of that, too.

  * * *

  Fletcher noticed Anna’s face blanched at his words and he worried she might cry—or faint. “This must be a lot to take in,” he said, trying to reassure himself as well as to console her. “The doctor said your physical well-being is the priority, and if you get enough rest your memories should take care of themselves.”

  Fletcher could always tell when Anna’s smile was genuine because she had a small dimple in her right cheek. He saw no sign of it as she responded, “I can’t imagine there will be much time for me to rest, with two weddings planned. I wonder how Naomi has been faring.”

  From his discussions with her, Fletcher knew how concerned Anna had been about her stepmother ever since Anna’s father died. Naomi, who periodically suffered from immobilizing depression, was so grief stricken in the months following Conrad’s death that Anna had almost single-handedly managed their household, with sporadic help from Melinda. In addition to caring for Eli and Evan, comforting Naomi and tending to the cooking, cleaning, laundering and gardening, Anna also worked at a shop in town so she could contribute to the household expenses. Her cheerful diligence was one of the qualities Fletcher most admired about her.

  “I know you can’t remember this,” Fletcher said, “but Naomi began to regain some of her...her energy in January when you confided our decision to marry to her. You told me she embraced the distraction of planning for a wedding. She said it gave her something hopeful instead of dreadful to think about, and rather than wringing her hands, she could put them to gut use preparing for our guests.”

  “That sounds like the old Naomi, alright,” Anna remarked and for the first time, her dimple puckered her cheek. But her smile faded almost as quickly as it appeared. “So then, if she is doing better, did I return to working at the shop full-time?”

  During Naomi’s period of bereavement, Anna reduced her working schedule from full time to part-time, much to the dismay of the shopkeeper, who valued Anna’s skills. But as efficient as she was at assisting customers, Anna told Fletcher she drew more satisfaction from meeting her family’s needs at home. She worked in the store only as much as was necessary to contribute to their living expenses.

  “Neh, you’re still only working there part-time.”

  A frown etched its way across Anna’s forehead. “If I helped pay the property taxes for the house with my savings, and I’ve still only been working part-time, how has my family been managing financially? Furthermore, what will Naomi do when I move? Raymond’s salary as an apprentice won’t be enough to cover their expenses.”

  “Jah, you’re right. That’s why I asked my onkel to promote Raymond to a full-fledged crew member and to allow me to apprentice Roy. Raymond had already been satisfactorily apprenticed by your daed and there have been plenty of projects in the aftermath of the tornado, so Isaiah readily agreed. The arrangement has worked well for them and you’ve been happy that instead of needing to work full-time, you’ve been able to continue helping Naomi, er, recover, especially as you prepare the house for the weddings.”

  Averting her eyes toward the window, Anna responded in a faraway voice, “It sounds as if we’ve thoroughly addressed all of the essential details, then.”

  That’s what I thought, too—until I received your message. Fletcher agonized, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions in check. He knew this wasn’t the time to broach the subject, no matter how desperately he wanted Anna to allay his suspicions about her note.

  “Supper’s ready,” Melinda announced from the doorway. “Ant Naomi says you’re wilkom to join us, Fletcher.”

  “Denki, it smells wunderbaar, but I need to be on my way,” he replied. As little as he’d eaten lately, Fletcher felt as if there were a cement block in his stomach and he doubted he could swallow even a morsel of bread.

  As it was, Anna said she felt queasy and she wanted to go lie down.

  “May I visit you tomorrow?” Fletcher asked before they parted.

  “Jah,” she replied simply. Her voice sounded strained when she added, “Denki for coming by tonight,” thus ending their visit on as formal of a note as it began.

  Shaken by how drastically his relationship with Anna had changed within the span of a few days, Fletcher numbly ushered the horse along the winding roads leading to his home. Once there, he collected the mail from the box and entered the chilly house. He turned on the gas lamp hanging above the kitchen table to read his sister’s familiar penmanship.

  Dear Fletcher,

  We were so joyful to receive word of the official date for your upcoming wedding that we got together to write you the very moment the letter arrived from Anna!

  As your older sisters, permit us to say we knew how disappointed you were when Joyce Beiler abruptly called off your engagement, even though you tried to disguise the tremendous toll the breakup took on you. Ever since then, we have been faithfully praying that the Lord would heal your hurt and help your heart to love and trust another young woman again. We are grateful He answered our prayers for you so quickly in Willow Creek. It still puzzles us that Joyce chose to marry Frederick Wittmer, but we are grateful you have found a woman who truly recognizes what an honorable, responsible, Godly man you are.

  Although our interaction with Anna was brief and we weren’t yet aware you were courting, we were fond of her the moment we met her in Willow Creek in December. Even
during such a somber time as Grandfather’s funeral, she demonstrated a warmth and graciousness that lightened our burden. It is no wonder you are as committed to her as she is to you. Surely, your marriage will be blessed.

  With love from your sisters,

  Esther, Leah and Rebekah (& families)

  Sighing heavily, Fletcher folded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. He understood the sentiments were well-intentioned. But under the circumstances, they opened old wounds of the nearly unbearable heartache and humiliation he suffered when Joyce canceled their wedding.

  A single tear rolled down his cheek when he lamented how wrong his sisters were. Anna didn’t even recognize his face, much less his character. While he didn’t doubt her memory would return eventually, he was far less certain about her commitment to him. His sisters were right: the breakup with Joyce had nearly cost him his physical health and emotional well-being. He didn’t think he could endure it if another fiancée called off their wedding.

  He knew the message Anna had sent him by heart, but he picked up her note from the table where he’d left it that morning and held it to the light. I have a serious concern regarding A. that I must discuss privately with you before the wedding preparations go any further.

  There was only one person she could have been referring to when she wrote “A.”—Aaron, her former suitor. Fletcher shook his head at the thought. Even though his cousin had become romantically involved with Melinda, Fletcher long sensed Aaron was still in love with Anna. But once when Fletcher expressed his concern to Anna, she dismissed it out of hand.

  “That’s ridiculous. He broke up with me to court Melinda. She’s the one he loves now,” she argued. “Besides, you should know from all of our conversations that I haven’t any feelings for him anymore. And whatever feelings I once had pale in comparison with how I feel about you. I may have liked Aaron, but I love—I’m in love with you, Fletcher Josiah Chupp.”