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

by Carrie Lighte

  “Let’s try them on, all three of us at once!” Melinda cried, sliding her own dress off its hanger.

  “Melinda, you know that vanity is sinful,” Naomi chastised.

  “Jah, but we need to make sure they fit,” Anna wheedled. “Please?”

  “Not you, too, Anna!” Naomi clucked before agreeing it made sense that they should be certain no alterations were needed.

  As soon as Melinda had changed, she twirled in a circle and asked her aunt, “What do you think?”

  “It’s a perfect fit,” Naomi said carefully. “Anna did a very nice job sewing it for you.”

  Melinda’s shoulders slumped and her lip jutted out. “But what do you think of how I look?”

  Naomi blinked rapidly and wiped away a tear. “I think you look more and more like your lovely mamm—my sister—each day.”

  Melinda pranced to the mirror to view her reflection and Naomi turned toward Anna. In the soft glow of the lamp’s light, Naomi appeared youthful and elegant, the lines of worry seemingly erased from her skin.

  “I knew that color would be striking on you,” Anna whispered. “I wish Daed could see you now.”

  “I wish he could see you,” Naomi responded. “But when Fletcher gets a glimpse, you’re going to set his heart aflutter!”

  Anna threw her arms around Naomi, half crying, half laughing. “Denki, Naomi. Denki for sewing my dress and for your encouragement and for your prayers. Denki for everything!”

  “There, there, we don’t want to wrinkle our dresses,” Naomi said, but instead of letting go, she squeezed Anna even tighter.

  * * *

  The wedding ceremony was everything Fletcher prayed it would be: he’d never been as certain of anything as he was when he answered “yes” to the bishop’s four traditional wedding questions, especially the one about whether Fletcher was confident that the Lord had provided Anna as a marriage partner for him. Anna’s voice rang out with an equally clear affirmation when the same question was posed to her about Fletcher.

  The dinner following the three-hour sermon was especially bountiful, thanks to Naomi and also to his aunt and cousins, who generously shared their supply of celery for the traditional Amish wedding dishes, as well as other ingredients and foods they’d already begun preparing for Aaron’s wedding. Tessa and Katie Fisher spent several days baking an excess of pies, cookies and other goodies. And, despite the short notice, Faith Yoder managed to deliver the most unusual wedding cake she said any bride—including Melinda—had ever requested: turtle cake.

  To her credit, Melinda was a huge help on the day of the wedding. After the ceremony, she was in high spirits, flitting about the house in her violet dress and engaging the guests in conversation as if she were the bride herself. Although Aaron appeared forlorn at first, Fletcher later noticed him laughing with the young Emma Lamp in the parlor. As afternoon gave way to evening, Naomi and his aunt and cousins spread the tables with supper and more desserts, and the last local guests stayed until after ten o’clock.

  Shortly after that, Fletcher readied his own buggy while Anna was inside saying her final goodbyes to Naomi and the rest of the overnight visitors. He’d just provided his faithful horse a carrot when the door swung open and his three sisters, Esther, Leah and Rebekah, emerged.

  “You look disappointed. You must have been expecting Anna instead of us,” Leah needled him. “She’ll be right out.”

  “Are you getting impatient?” Esther asked.

  “Neh,” he answered. “I’ll wait for Anna as long as it takes.”

  “Spoken like a man in love,” Rebekah noted. “But you don’t have to wait any longer, here kummes your bride now.”

  As Anna stepped outside, the light from the kitchen illuminated her silhouette. Although it was too dark to see her face, he could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Gut nacht, everyone, and denki. See you tomorrow.”

  “Are you certain you don’t want to spend the night at Naomi’s house?” Fletcher asked when she was seated beside him. That was the customary Amish expectation of the bride and groom, because it enabled them to assist with the cleanup first thing in the morning.

  “Just this once, I think we ought to do something irresponsible,” Anna answered. Then she corrected herself. “Well, not irresponsible, since we’ll kumme back to help bright and early, but something—”

  “Out of character?” he asked.

  “Jah. Besides, the house is bursting at the seams with out-of-state guests.”

  “That’s true,” Fletcher said. His pulse pounded louder and louder in his ears the closer they got to home. He couldn’t wait to show Anna the alcove he’d created for her.

  But when he brought the horse to a halt, she said, “Wait, before we step down, I have a gift for you. There wasn’t really any way I could wrap it, so you have to take a look at it now. It’s in the back seat, under the tarp.”

  “When did you have a chance to sneak a present back there?”

  “I didn’t,” Anna replied, giggling. “Your newehockers, Chandler and Gabriel, put it in the buggy for me while I distracted you. Go ahead—see what it is.”

  Using the flashlight he kept secured to a hook in the front of his buggy to supply him with light, Fletcher twisted in the seat and lifted the tarp.

  “A fishing rod!” he exclaimed. “Denki, Anna, it’s a really nice one.”

  “Roy and Raymond told me that yours snapped the other day and I know how you enjoy fishing,” she said. “You should be able to bring in a gut catch down at the creek using that rod.”

  “Denki,” Fletcher repeated. “But you’re my best catch, Anna.”

  Her laughter made light work of stabling the horse and soon Fletcher was accompanying her to the house. He kissed her once on the cheek before he unlocked the kitchen door and led her down the hall in the dark.

  Before illuminating the room in the alcove, he confessed, “I realize I said I didn’t want either of us to feel as if we were hiding anything from each other, but there is one thing I admit I’ve been keeping a secret.”

  After Fletcher turned up the gas lamp, Anna blinked several times. Rendered completely speechless, she ran her hands over the shelves and opened each of the drawers before perching on the window seat.

  “Fletcher, I don’t know what to say,” she cried. “I can’t believe how beautiful this room is.”

  “I made it exclusively for you,” he said. “So you’ll have the space and privacy you need to read or write. There is one condition, however.”

  “Anything,” she said.

  “You can’t use the room to write, Fletcher Chupp, what a heel, in your diary,” he said softly into her ear.

  “I accept the terms of the agreement,” she pledged.

  “Not gut enough,” he replied. “You have to seal your promise with a kiss.”

  Leaning in, he gave her a firm, meaningful kiss. When he pulled away, he stared into her eyes, which were exquisitely enhanced by the green tint of her dress.

  Suddenly, Anna clapped her hands against her cheeks as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Oh neh!” she exclaimed.

  “What is it?”

  “I think I may be suffering a relapse of amnesia. I can’t recall what happened just now between us.”

  Fletcher threw back his head to laugh. “Don’t worry,” he consoled her. “I know how to jog your memory.”

  “With sage tea?” she flirted.

  “Neh,” he answered. “With this.”

  He feathered his lips across hers once, twice, three times before asking, “Is what happened coming back to you now?”

  “Not quite,” she teased. “It’s still a bit hazy. But that’s alright. As Dr. Donovan said, you and I have a lifetime to make memories together...”

  Fletcher chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. A warm breeze wafted throug
h the window: spring was definitely here, a season of hope, a season of renewal, a season of love. He and Anna were married at last.

  * * * * *

  If you liked this story, pick up the

  first book in Carrie Lighte’s

  AMISH COUNTRY COURTSHIPS series:

  AMISH TRIPLETS FOR CHRISTMAS

  Available now from Love Inspired!

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com

  Keep reading for an excerpt from MOUNTAIN COUNTRY COURTSHIP by Glynna Kaye.

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  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for following Anna and Fletcher on their sometimes rocky, sometimes smooth trip down memory lane and back again.

  Although their story is fictional, it was loosely inspired by my experiences observing loved ones suffering from head injuries and memory loss, the effects of which were frightening and frustrating for everyone involved. It’s such a relief to know we can trust the Lord for comfort, guidance and healing during those situations.

  Trust also plays a vital role in falling in love. Remember when you first risked sharing your heart with that special person in your life? Remember when that special person began opening up to you? As Dr. Donovan told Anna and Fletcher, falling in love is a gift. It’s something to celebrate. Fortunately, we don’t need to suffer amnesia to relive that joy: we can experience it by calling our memories to mind.

  May all your romantic relationships have more songs than stones!

  Blessings,

  Carrie Lighte

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

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  Mountain Country Courtship

  by Glynna Kaye

  Chapter One

  The honor of your presence is requested

  at the marriage of

  Corrine Elizabeth Anton

  and

  Victor Andersen Gyles

  Two o’clock in the afternoon

  Saturday, October...

  With an exasperated shake of his head, Hayden “Denny” Hunter crammed the summons and RSVP back into the envelope, then tossed it into an open briefcase sitting on the parked Porsche’s leather passenger seat. When packing for an unavoidable business trip to “hometown” Hunter Ridge in mountain country Arizona, he’d come across the invitation he’d ignored a few days earlier. So why had he brought it along with him, let alone opened it once he arrived at his destination?

  He’d like to believe he was inadvertently added to the invitation list by someone not comprehending the complexity of the situation—that his older stepbrother’s betrothed had only in June left Denny standing at the altar, and that after a prolonged absence from the family hotel business, that same stepbrother had also swooped in to carry off a promotion Denny had worked long and hard for.

  “At least I hope,” he said aloud in the confines of his vehicle, “neither Corrine nor Vic chose to be deliberately insensitive.”

  With a low growl, Denny exited the sports car he’d driven from San Francisco and slammed the door more firmly than necessary. It was a crazy long drive. But although the purpose of this trip on behalf of his mother, Charlotte Gyles, was to have a face-to-face meeting with the manager of an inn she owned, it also gave him a chance to blow the cobwebs out of his brain with a road trip. In particular, it provided uninterrupted time to strategize how to get back in the good graces of his stepfather, hotelier Elden Gyles.

  He would fulfill his assignment here—how could he refuse, given his mother’s recent car accident?—and tie it to an obligatory visit with his father’s side of the family. But he hoped not to linger long in the town he’d set foot in only once since his mother took off with his two-year-old self at the time of his parents’ divorce thirty years ago.

  He gazed resentfully at the two-story natural stone structure, three guest rooms wide, that had brought him back to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere—the Pinewood Inn. Nor could he help noticing the two vacant buildings his mother owned that abutted it on either side, their boarded-up windows appearing as unseeing eyes that faced the winding, ponderosa pine–lined main road through town.

  That had creeped him out as a kid two decades ago. Kind of did now, too.

  “Hey, Mister.” A soft, childish voice came from the shadowed recesses of the inn’s broad porch. “Do you want to buy a ticket to the Hunter’s Hideaway Labor Day charity barbecue?”

  No, he did not. He wanted to take care of business and get himself back home before his stepbrother—five years his senior—commandeered more than what he’d already laid claim to.

  The child who’d delivered the sales pitch jumped up from a rocking chair where she’d been sitting and cautiously moved to the railing, a brown envelope clutched to her chest. Slanting rays of a late August sun illuminated a blond-haired, freckle-faced girl not much older than seven or eight. She wore jeans and a turquoise knit top, and her solemn eyes reflected a wariness that belied the courage it must have taken for her to speak to a stranger.

  He offered the girl a reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll buy one.”

  Her eyes widened. “You will?”

  He must be her first customer. “How much?”

  “Twenty dollars.”

  Giving a low whistle, he pulled out his wallet, remembering the five dollars his dad had grudgingly forked over for a similar event the first—and only—time a then-twelve-year-old Denny had come for a visit. Inflation had hit even here in the backwoods, but no doubt it was for a worthy cause—and there was no obligation to attend. He’d be long gone by the weekend.

  “Here you go.” He held out the requested amount as the girl joined him on the sidewalk.

  Brows lowered in sober concentration, the youngster tucked the bill into the envelope, then carefully extracted a printed ticket and handed it to him. “See that number? You can win a prize.”

  “Can’t beat a deal like that, can I?”

  “Nope.”

  “What else do you say, Taylor?” a pleasant female voice called from behind them.

  He and the miniature charmer looked to where a woman in her late twenties approached, dark waves of collar-length hair glinting in the sunlight and her high-heeled pumps tapping rhythmically on the sidewalk. Her black pencil skirt that hit just above the knees, pink top and gray blazer seemed out of place for a Monday afternoon in this laid-back little town. Nevertheless, she was an eye-catcher.

  The girl she’d called Taylor obediently looked up at him. “Thank you, mister.”

  Still no smile.

  “You’re welcome. I’m sure a pretty girl like you will sell a lot of tickets.” The disbelieving look she retu
rned nearly made him pull out his wallet a second time and buy ten more.

  The woman—Taylor’s mother?—gazed affectionately at the youngster, then dipped her head to study him over the top of tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses, revealing the most beautiful hazel eyes he’d ever seen.

  “Are you here to see about a room?” Those amazing eyes brightened expectantly. “We do have a vacancy.”

  She worked at the inn?

  “Actually, I’m here to see the inn’s manager, Miss Everett.” Formerly the community library manager, the older woman had befriended his mother decades ago, when as a newlywed his parent struggled with the isolation of the town and a marriage that was far from what she’d dreamed of.

  The brunette tilted her head. “Viola Everett is my great-aunt. I’m Lillian Keene. And you are...?”

  “Charlotte Gyles’s son.” Her eyes widened slightly, confirming she recognized his mother’s name. Was this the niece his mother said had cared for Miss Everett when she’d broken a hip last winter? “I’m Hayden Hunter.”

  Inwardly he winced, recalling the wedding-day text message he’d received while standing at the front of a church sanctuary, all eyes on him. You are a hard man to love, Hayden Harrison Hunter. “But I prefer Denny. Or Den.”

  He shook her offered hand, not caring for the unwelcome spark of awareness that shot through him at her touch. If there was one thing he didn’t need right now, it was being attracted to a woman who might all too soon wish she’d never laid eyes on him.

  Her smooth forehead creased. “One of the Hunter’s Hideaway Hunters.”

  “More or less.” But unlike most of his half siblings and cousins on his dad’s side, his parents’ divorce and his early exit from Hunter Ridge ensured he hadn’t played a part in the family legacy in this region. Hunter’s Hideaway was one of the holdings of the family-run Hunter Enterprises, a business catering to hunters, hikers, horsemen and other outdoor enthusiasts. “I grew up in San Francisco. Live there now.”

  Her smile widened, catching him off guard. “In that case, I especially thank you for coming all this way. It’s greatly appreciated.”