Anna's Forgotten Fiancé (Amish Country Courtships Book 2)

by Carrie Lighte

“It was true. I was being a heel. I cared more about fishing than about your feelings. And I tried to disguise my self-centeredness with a gift.”

  “How did we ever end up courting after introductions like ours?” she asked.

  “It’s simple—we got to know each other. I kept coming here to fish and you kept coming here to be alone with your thoughts. Neither of us had the privacy we needed to accomplish our purpose, but we were both too stubborn to budge, so we began talking to each other instead. Soon, there was nothing we didn’t tell each other. Nothing,” Fletcher said.

  When he looked at her, his eyes were dark as the midnight sky and his voice was husky with ardor. A subtle yet familiar emotion stirred inside of Anna and she shivered.

  “What is it?” Fletcher asked, sitting up straight. “Did you remember something just then?”

  “Almost,” she said, sorry to disappoint him. “But it was more of a feeling than a memory.”

  “A happy feeling?”

  “Decidedly so.” She smiled, holding his gaze.

  “Gut.” He stood and took her empty cup. “There’s another important stop along our stroll down memory lane, so we ought to get going now.”

  As they were returning to the buggy, Anna suddenly uttered, “The journal you gave me! Surely I must have recorded my memories in there.”

  “I hadn’t even thought of that, but you’re right,” Fletcher agreed. “When was the last time you wrote in it?”

  “Wrote in it? I didn’t even know it existed! Where do I keep it?”

  “I don’t know. You told me you wrote in it all the time but you had to squirrel it away in a secret place because you didn’t want the boys happening upon it.”

  “Really?” Anna was deflated. “Well, what did it look like?”

  “It was about this big,” Fletcher answered, squaring his hands, “and it had a brown leather jacket with a little gold lock attached at the side.”

  “I’ll search for it as soon as I get home,” Anna said enthusiastically as Fletcher supported her into the buggy. “It must hold a storehouse of memories.”

  * * *

  Fletcher’s palms grew sweaty as he contemplated what Anna might find written in her journal. He’d gotten so caught up in the nostalgia of first meeting her that he’d momentarily lost sight of the fact his ultimate intention for the outing was to help her recall her hesitation about marrying him, so he could address it. He removed his hat and swept his hand through his hair, as if to brush away the troublesome thoughts.

  “Someone’s been painting today, I see,” Anna noticed. “You’ve got flecks of white in your hair.”

  “If you think my hair is bad, you ought to see Roy’s and Raymond’s,” he replied. “Their saving grace is that they’re blond, rather than dark like me, so it doesn’t show up as much.”

  “Denki for mentoring them, Fletcher. I don’t know what Naomi would do without a man around to train them in a vocation.”

  “It’s a privilege,” Fletcher said soberly. “Now, as you know, to the right is Turner King’s daadi haus, but we won’t drop in there until you resolve your misunderstanding with Katie and Tessa. A little farther along the lane is our house.”

  Anna hesitated when Fletcher turned in the driveway. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate for the two of us to spend time together unchaperoned here. I wouldn’t want people to see us and think—”

  “Of course not. Neither would I,” Fletcher said. He shared Anna’s commitment to modesty and decorum. “I only want to show you something. Wait here and I’ll be right out with it.”

  He scooted into the house and emerged carrying a black suit on a hanger.

  “I don’t suppose you recall making this?” he asked.

  “Hmm, I don’t know.” Anna scrunched her brows together and teased, “That stitching doesn’t look like mine. Are you sure you didn’t make the suit?”

  “These hands can work a hammer, but not a sewing needle,” Fletcher argued.

  “Jah, that would explain why the side seam appears crooked.”

  “It’s not crooked, you’re looking at it askance.”

  Anna giggled. “One thing is certain—you will look very dapper in that, indeed. Now please go put it away. I’m freezing,” she said.

  Despite his best efforts to guard his emotions, Fletcher felt his knees go weak and his hopes grow strong because of Anna’s compliment. He whistled as he brought the suit inside and quickly returned to take Anna home. He idled at the end of the lane as another buggy sailed past. Even if he hadn’t recognized the familiar style of the carriage, he knew only one person who worked his horse that hard.

  “That was Aaron,” Anna said, as if reading his thoughts. “He probably picked Melinda up after her first day at the shop. Look at him go! I’m queasy just watching him.”

  Anna’s remark cast doubt on Fletcher’s concern about her affection for Aaron, and he chuckled zealously. As they rode, she peppered him with questions about his work as a carpenter, his sisters and their families, his likes and dislikes, and other important aspects of his life.

  Finally, he teased, “There isn’t going to be a quiz about this, Anna.”

  “Neh, but I want to learn as much about you as I can as quickly as I can, Fletcher Chupp.”

  Fletcher drew the horse to an abrupt halt and shifted to study her face in the waning light. “Why did you say that?” he asked, his voice throaty.

  She tipped her head. “I said it because I meant it.”

  “That’s exactly what you said—and I do mean word for word—when I first began walking out with you,” he explained. “I thought maybe you’d remembered saying it.”

  “Neh, but it’s still true,” she responded. “Rather, it’s true again.”

  As he clicked to the horse, Fletcher’s stomach turned somersaults. Dr. Donovan was right: there was nothing more exhilarating than falling in love, and he was on the brink of falling for Anna a second time.

  “Whoa, steady,” he commanded the horse, directing it down the lane to Anna’s house. He might as well have been talking to his own heart, which seemed in danger of rearing wildly and galloping away with him. He couldn’t allow himself to forget Anna’s note, even if she had.

  “Look, Aaron has hitched his horse,” Anna pointed out. “That must mean he’s staying for supper. You’re wilkom to join us, too.”

  “Denki, but I have work to do at home,” Fletcher said. He needed to clear his head. Besides, he didn’t want to take advantage of Naomi’s hospitality, even if his cousin was staying, so he walked Anna to the porch, but before he could say goodbye, the door swung open. The tantalizing aroma of pork chops filled Fletcher’s nostrils and when Naomi insisted he stay for supper, he couldn’t refuse. This time when everyone joined hands for grace, Anna gave his palm a quick squeeze before letting go, and when he accidentally knocked his knee into hers, she didn’t flinch or move her chair.

  “How was your first day at the shop?” Anna asked Melinda as they were eating dessert.

  “Easy as pie,” Melinda replied. “No wonder you prefer working there to helping us at home.”

  “Anna’s reputation for industriousness is what afforded you a temporary position at Schrock’s Shop,” Naomi diplomatically reminded her niece. “But because you’ve had such an easy day there, Melinda, you may clear the table and wash and dry the dishes, as well. I’m sure Aaron has chores to get to at home and will be leaving straightaway, too. As it is, I’ve got mending to do and the boys need to take a bath. Kumme, Evan and Eli, say gut nacht to everyone. Roy and Raymond, the wood bin is running low.”

  “I’ll walk outside with you,” Fletcher suggested to Aaron after Naomi and the boys left the room, fearing his cousin wouldn’t take the hint that it was time to leave.

  “Okay,” he agreed amiably. “But first I have something to give Anna. It’s in my buggy.”
>
  Anna stopped rinsing the pan in her hands long enough to shrug her shoulders and cast a puzzled look at Melinda. Fletcher stood by the door of the mudroom until Aaron returned with a pot of pale blue flowers.

  “For you,” he said, extending it to Anna.

  She looked confused. “Denki,” she said, accepting the pot. “How thoughtful.”

  Melinda clapped her hands and tittered. “They’re forget-me-nots, get it? You know, because you have amnesia. I was telling Aaron about the hair clips as we drove by the nursery in town and he was suddenly inspired. He said the flowers would make the perfect get-well gift for you!”

  “I get it. Denki,” Anna repeated, red-faced, before abruptly saying good-night to everyone and excusing herself from the room.

  Fletcher strode to his buggy without waiting for Aaron to stop laughing with Melinda. Filling his lungs with the night air, he tried not to rush to conclusions about the name of the flower Aaron had chosen for Anna. He was familiar enough with Aaron’s sense of humor to know that his cousin’s jokes were often misplaced. It was entirely possible there was no hidden message—other than the obvious pun in reference to amnesia—intended by his choice of flowers. As for Anna leaving the room so quickly, perhaps she merely felt nauseated or tired.

  Yet as the horse pulled his buggy toward home, Fletcher noticed the optimism he’d felt earlier in the day was replaced by a gnawing insecurity that he couldn’t seem to shake. Dear Lord, he began to pray, but then he stopped. Unsure of what to ask for, he kept his request simple: please help.

  Chapter Five

  After retreating to the washroom to splash water on her face, Anna patted her cheeks dry with a towel. Over the course of her relationship with Aaron, she’d grown accustomed to overlooking his jokes and pranks, and once again she reminded herself that his intention was to make her laugh, not to mock her condition. Recalling that Dr. Donovan said it was normal for head injury patients to be hypersensitive during their recoveries, she decided rather than to waste any more time feeling irritated, she’d turn her attention to searching her bedroom for the journal Fletcher had given her.

  When she didn’t find it, she searched again a second time, patting beneath her mattress, opening every drawer and examining the shelf in her closet. Like most Amish homes, theirs was furnished simply and contained little clutter, so finding lost items was usually only a matter of retracing one’s steps. Unfortunately, Anna’s amnesia kept her from being able to do that.

  She shone the flashlight into the other half of the attic, which was completely empty except for the package containing the wedding dress fabric she’d stashed there that afternoon because she was afraid Naomi might reproach her for sewing if she happened upon it in Anna’s closet. Although Anna knew it would be unlikely for her to keep a personal item like a journal elsewhere in the house, she checked each room and asked each family member if they might have known where she’d put it.

  “You’re always writing in it, so you’d better find it soon,” Melinda answered as she furiously scoured a pan. “It would be a shame if someone discovered your secrets.”

  To Anna’s ears, that almost sounded like a taunt. Did Melinda know something she wasn’t saying about the journal? Had she read it? Almost immediately, Anna was filled with shame. Assuming ill of another person was not the Amish way. Besides, Fletcher said the diary had a lock, so when Anna found the key on a string inside her drawer, she immediately looped it around her neck.

  “I’m not concerned about someone discovering my secrets,” she replied affably, picking up a towel to dry the dishes stacking up next to the sink. “But the diary could go a long way in helping me regain my memory, so please keep your eye out for it. Now, how about if you tell me more about your first day at the shop?”

  Melinda was pleased to regale Anna with descriptions of the Englischers who came into the shop, recounting their questions and comments, and detailing their purchases. Listening to Melinda’s exuberance about the experience, Anna was glad her cousin had the opportunity to work outside their home. Perhaps by representing the Amish community’s wares to Englisch customers, Melinda might take better care to reflect Amish values, too.

  By the time they finished cleaning the dishes, any tension Anna experienced concerning Aaron’s gift had been washed away, as well. But her head felt as heavy as an anvil and she retired to her bedroom early. She searched her drawers and under the bed one last time, wishing she could find her journal. Not only did she want to read what she’d already written there, but she wanted to record her current feelings about Fletcher, in order to make sense of them. She found him to be thoughtful, respectful and fun, as well as strong, handsome and Godly. It was no wonder she’d been smitten with him from the start.

  Yet, as she leaned against her bed to unlace her shoes, she ruminated that being infatuated wasn’t reason enough to marry someone. She didn’t doubt she professed to the deacon after their meetings concluded that she believed Fletcher was the husband the Lord provided for her. But despite her growing affection for Fletcher, Anna just didn’t know if she could honestly make that same vow again when the bishop asked her to affirm it during the wedding ceremony in church.

  Anna slipped into a kneeling position on the floor and folded her hands, beseeching, Please, Lord, return my memory to me soon. And if it’s Your will, help me find my diary, as well.

  “Oh, gut, you’re still up,” Melinda said when she burst through the door. “Do you want to see the material for my wedding dress? It arrived at the mercantile today and I picked it up after work.”

  “Sure.” Anna straightened into a standing position.

  Melinda unwrapped a layer of brown paper from a large package.

  “It’s beautiful,” Anna gushed about the violet fabric, fingering it along the edge. “This will look lovely with your brunette hair and big brown eyes.”

  “That’s what Aaron said, too,” Melinda commented as she secured the string around the bundle again.

  As they donned their nightclothes, Anna realized perhaps Melinda simply didn’t realize how she came across when she repeated Aaron’s remarks, whether kind or far-fetched. She extinguished the lamp.

  “Melinda?” Anna asked into the darkness. “Remember how you were talking about secrets and wishing I’d confide in you more often? I have a secret I’d like to share with you.”

  Anna could hear Melinda scramble into an attentive position. “What is it?”

  “I bought my wedding dress material today, too. It’s forest green. I’m not supposed to concentrate on sewing for long periods of time, but I figure I can work on it now and again, provided Naomi doesn’t catch me and start to fret.”

  “I promise not to tell,” Melinda said and flopped back down against her pillow, sighing. “I don’t know where I’m going to find time to make mine now that I’m working at the shop.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Anna offered. “The light in our room isn’t the best, but perhaps we can spend a few evenings a week sewing up here together. And I’m happy to help sew yours if you find it becomes unmanageable while you’re working at the shop.”

  “Denki, Anna.” Melinda yawned. “I’d really appreciate that.”

  After a few minutes of silence, Anna was on the brink of sleep when Melinda mumbled, “I’m so happy you decided to buy your material even though you can’t remember your groom. Aaron told me today that he didn’t think Fletcher could handle another fiancée calling off the wedding. The first time nearly crushed him.”

  “What?” Anna whispered. When there was no reply, she asked again, “What did you just say?” but Melinda’s breathing rose and fell in the steady pattern of sleep.

  Anna listened to it all throughout the night as she tried to drum up a satisfactory reason for why Fletcher neglected to mention his previous fiancée. Instead, she just came up with additional questions, each one more alarming than the last: Why di
d Fletcher’s first fiancée call their wedding off? If Anna had known the reason, would she still have agreed to marry him so quickly? Was there anything else he was keeping from her? If so, how would she know?

  She was relieved when daylight filled the windows and she could rise and ready herself for church. The family squeezed into the buggy, three seated in the front and three seated in the back, with Evan balanced against Naomi’s knees. This Sunday, they traveled to James and Amelia Hooley’s home on the other end of town. Their basement was used as the gathering room for the worship service; afterward, the men flipped the benches, fashioning them into makeshift tables for lunch. Anna was eager to speak to the Fisher sisters and she figured she’d find them in the kitchen, helping serve and clean up.

  “Look who’s here!” Tessa exclaimed, nudging her sister.

  “I’m Ka-tie,” her other friend greeted her, pronouncing her name very slowly.

  “And I’m sorry,” Anna apologized. “I’m afraid you both must think me terribly rude—”

  “It. Is. Okay,” Katie enunciated loudly. “Why. Don’t. You. Sit. Down?”

  Anna didn’t know what to make of Katie’s manner of speaking. Did she always talk like that? She squinted at her.

  Tessa explained in equally deliberate speech. “Please don’t cry. We aren’t angry with you. We know about your brain injury.”

  “Is that why you’re talking like that?” Anna inquired, suddenly realizing their strange intonations were supposed to be for her benefit. “Jah, I had a traumatic brain injury, which is another name for a concussion, and I’m experiencing something called retrograde amnesia, but there’s nothing wrong with my hearing, I’m not about to cry and I don’t need to sit down.”

  Tessa threw her hands in the air. “Ach! Melinda told everyone at the shop your faculties haven’t been the same since your fall. Oh dear, Anna, now we’re the ones who are sorry!”

  Katie covered her face with the dishtowel. “I’m so embarrassed I could cry!”

  Anna should have known Melinda was at the heart of the misunderstanding—she was such a bobblemoul, as Evan would say! Nevertheless, she sympathized with her friends. “That’s exactly how I felt when I learned I’d accidentally slighted each of you.”