Anna's Forgotten Fiancé

Betrothed to a stranger

The Amish Country Courtships series continues!

An accident leaves Anna Weaver with no memory of her Amish hometown’s newest arrival—her fiancé! After a whirlwind courtship, their wedding’s in six weeks...but how can she marry a man she can’t remember? Carpenter Fletcher Chupp takes her on a walk down memory lane, but there’s one thing he wants to keep hidden: a secret that might just lose him the woman he loves.

CARRIE LIGHTE lives in Massachusetts, where her neighbors include several Mennonite farming families. She loves traveling and first learned about Amish culture when she visited Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, as a young girl. When she isn’t writing or reading, she enjoys baking bread, playing word games and hiking, but her all-time favorite activity is bodyboarding with her loved ones when the surf’s up at Coast Guard Beach on Cape Cod.

Also By Carrie Lighte

Amish Country Courtships

Amish Triplets for Christmas

Anna’s Forgotten Fiancé

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Anna’s Forgotten Fiancé

Carrie Lighte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08246-4

ANNA’S FORGOTTEN FIANCÉ

© 2018 Carrie Lighte

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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She was so close.

Fletcher could hear the soft puff of Anna’s breath as she blew on her tea. Last week he’d have draped his arm around her shoulders as they sat on the porch swing, but tonight he wasn’t sure the gesture would be welcome. Something was wrong. He was afraid she’d remembered the misgiving that had caused her to write the note the day of her accident.

His stomach clenched when she said, “Let’s talk about the wedding. For starters, I don’t remember if I’ve made your suit yet.”

“Jah,” he answered, half choking on the word in his relief. “You made it and I feel pretty dapper in it, if I say so myself.”

“How about my dress?”

“You planned a sister day to work on it.”

“Gut to know. Now if I can only remember about you and about our relationship. I’ve been praying that my memory will return any moment now and all will become clear.”

“Jah, any moment now, all will become clear,” he repeated.

But what would happen once it did?

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

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

—Proverbs 3:5–6

For anyone who has ever suffered a

bumped head or a bruised heart,

as well as for those who have experienced

the healing power of love.

With special thanks to my agent, Pam Hopkins,

and my editor, Shana Asaro.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Anna Weaver slowly opened her eyes. Sunlight played off the white sheets and she quickly lowered her lids again, groaning. Her mind was swirling with questions but her mouth was too dry to form any words.

“Have a drink of water,” a female voice beside her offered. “Little sips. Don’t gulp it.”

The young woman supported Anna’s head until she’d swallowed her fill and then eased her back against the pillow. Anna squinted toward the figure.

“You’ve had an accident,” she explained, as if sensing Anna’s confusion. “You’re at home recovering. It’s your second day out of the hospital. How do you feel?”

“Like a horse kicked me in the head,” Anna answered in a raspy voice. She blinked several times, trying to focus.

“You recognize me, don’t you?” the woman asked. “I’m Melinda Roth, your cousin.”

Technically, the woman wasn’t Anna’s cousin; she was her stepmother’s niece. I doubt I could ever forget the person who captured my boyfriend’s heart, Anna thought. Aloud she replied, “Of course I recognize you. Why wouldn’t I?”

“The Englisch doctors said you still might have trouble with your memory, but apparently you don’t,” Melinda answered, appearing more disappointed than relieved.

Anna felt a pang of compassion. It was obvious Melinda felt guilty for what had transpired between her and Aaron. Anna had forgiven them both, but forgetting what happened was a little more difficult, especially since she had to live under the same roof—and share the same bedroom—with Melinda. Each time Melinda tiptoed into the room after her curfew, Anna was made acutely aware of how much her cousin was enjoying being courted by Aaron.

“The only trouble I have is that I’m a bit chilled,” Anna said.

Melinda placed a hand on Anna’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever, thank the Lord. The doctor warned us to watch for that. I’ll ask Eli to bring more wood inside for the stove.”

“The woodstove in August?” Anna marveled. “That would be a first. Please don’t trouble Eli on my account. I’m certain once I get up and move around, I’ll be toasty warm.”

“Lappich maedel!” Melinda tittered as she referred to Anna as a silly girl. “It isn’t August. It’s the first week in March.”

Anna propped herself up on her elbows. Although she figured Melinda probably meant to be funny, her head was throbbing and she was in no mood for such foolishness. She knit her brows together and questioned, “You’re teasing, right?”

Melinda shook her head and gestured toward the maple tree outside the window. “See? It doesn’t have its leaves yet.”

“How could that be?” A tear slid down Anna’s cheek.

“Uh-oh, I’ve said too much.” Melinda jumped to her feet and unfolded a second quilt over Anna’s legs. “That should keep you warm.”

Anna stared at her cousin, trying to make sense of the scenario. Then she began to giggle. “Oh, I understand! I’m dreaming!”

“Neh, neh,” Melinda contradicted, giving Anna’s skin a small pinch. “Feel that?”

Completely befuddled, Anna bent her arm across her face. First, she’d lost her boyfriend, then she’d lost her father, and now she feared she was losing her mind. It was simply too much to take in and she began to weep fully.

“You mustn’t cry,” Melinda cautioned. “The doctor said it wasn’t gut for you to become upset. We don’t want to have to take you back to the hospital.”

Melinda’s warning was enough to silence Anna’s weeping. “I don’t understand how two seasons could have passed without my knowing.” She sniffed.

“The doctors said it’s the nature of a head injury like yours. You may remember things from long ago, but not more recently. You’ve also been on strong medications for your headache and for hurting your backside when you fell, so even your hospital stay might be fuzzy.”

“It is,” Anna acknowledged. “And I don’t recall injuring myself. How did it happen?”

“You appear to have slipped on the bank by the creek, hitting your head on a rock,” Melinda replied. “Do you know what you may have been doing there? Or where you were going? It was early Tuesday morning.”

Anna tried to remember but her mind was as blank as the ceiling above. She shook her head and then grimaced from the motion.

“That’s okay,” Melinda said cheerfully. “How about telling me some of the more important events that you do remember?”

“My daed’s funeral,” Anna responded. “It was raining—a deluge of water—and then the rain turned to sleet and then to ice.”

She remembered because at the time she felt as if the unseasonably cold weather mirrored her emotions; a torrent of tears followed by a stark, frozen numbness that even the brightest sunshine couldn’t thaw.

“Jah, your daed died a year ago. Last March. What do you remember after that?”

Anna thought hard. The days, weeks and months after her dad’s sudden death from a heart attack were a blur to her even before her head injury. “I remember...your birthday party,” she said brightly.

“My eighteenth. Gut. That was in late August. Do you remember when I got baptized last fall?”

It felt wrong to admit she couldn’t recall Melinda making such an important commitment, but Anna said, “Neh. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. The doctor said your memory loss probably wouldn’t last long, especially if you’re at home, surrounded by familiar faces.”

“Well then, if that’s what it takes to cure me, I should get dressed and join the boys for breakfast,” Anna stated, although she would have preferred a few more moments of rest before joining her four stepbrothers downstairs. She slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“They’ll be glad to know you’re well enough to rise,” Melinda remarked. “But it’s nearly time for supper, not breakfast. And the one who is most anxious to see you is your fiancé. He’ll stop in after work again, no doubt.”

“My fiancé?” Anna snorted. “But I broke up with Aaron after I caught you and him—I mean, Aaron is walking out with you now, isn’t he?”

“Jah, jah,” Melinda confirmed. Her cheeks were so red it appeared she was the one who had a fever. “You and Aaron broke up over a year ago. Last February, in fact.” She hung her head as if ashamed, before looking Anna in the eye again and clarifying, “I was referring to your new suitor. That is, to your fiancé, Fletcher. Fletcher Chupp, Aaron’s cousin from Ohio.”

“Fletcher?” Anna sputtered incredulously. “I’m quite certain I’m not acquainted with—much less engaged to—anyone by that name.”

* * *

Fletcher stooped to pick up a cordless drywall screw gun and a handful of screws that had fallen to the floor.

“Don’t forget to gather all of your tools before leaving the work site for the evening,” he reminded Roy and Raymond Keim, Anna’s stepbrothers.

“We won’t,” Roy responded. “But those aren’t ours—they’re Aaron’s. We didn’t know if he was coming back or not, so we didn’t dare to put them away.”

“Where has he gone?” Fletcher inquired.

“Probably buying a soft drink at the fast-food place down the street,” answered Raymond as he folded a ladder and leaned it carefully on its side along the wall.

Fletcher wished Aaron would set a better example of work habits for Raymond and Roy. He worried what their Englisch clients would think if they saw him taking numerous breaks or leaving early. Aaron’s habits reflected on all of them. Although their projects had been plentiful over the winter due to an October tornado damaging many of the office buildings in their little town of Willow Creek, there was no guarantee that future contracts would be awarded to them, especially if their reputation suffered. Fletcher would need all the work he could get when he became a married man with a family to support. That’s if I become a married man, he mentally corrected himself.

Nothing about his future with Anna was as certain as it had seemed when their wedding intentions were “published,” or announced, in church on Sunday. Only two days later, on Tuesday morning, Raymond delivered a sealed note to him from Anna. Fletcher, it read, I have a serious concern regarding A. that I must discuss privately with you before the wedding preparations go any further. Please visit me tonight after work. —Anna.

The message was so unexpected and disturbing that if he hadn’t been responsible for supervising Raymond and Roy, Fletcher would have left work immediately to speak with Anna. By the time he finally reached her home that evening, he was shocked to be greeted by a neighbor bearing additional alarming news: that morning Anna suffered a fall and was in the hospital. Although he loathed knowing she’d been hurt, he was simultaneously informed the doctors said she was going to be just fine. But it tormented him that he had no such assurance about the future of his relationship with her.

Each time he visited Anna, she was resting or couldn’t be disturbed. Now, it was Friday and he still hadn’t spoken to her. Ever since receiving her note, he’d felt as if he’d swallowed a handful of nails, and he’d barely eaten or slept all week. Please, Lord, give me patience and peace, even as You provide Anna rest and recovery, he prayed for the umpteenth time that day.

“I suppose Aaron’s allowed to take breaks whenever he wants since he’s the business owner’s son,” Roy commented, interrupting Fletcher’s thoughts.

Although Fletcher agreed with the boy’s observation, he chided, “Enough of that talk. My onkel Isaiah showed you special favor yourself in allowing me to apprentice you here, because your mamm was married to Anna’s daed and he was such a skilled carpenter. Isaiah has been a gut employer to me, too. Regardless of how anyone else performs their work, Gott requires each of us to work heartily in whatever we do.”

The boys finished tidying the site before stepping out into the nippy early-evening air. They wove through the rows of Englisch vehicles to the makeshift hitching post at the far end of the parking lot. Aaron’s sleek courting buggy was nowhere to be seen as Fletcher, Raymond and Roy climbed into Fletcher’s boxy carriage, given to him by his groossdaadi, or grandfather.

“Go ahead and take the reins,” Fletcher said to Roy, the younger of the two teens. “It’s important for you to learn to handle the horse during what the Englisch call ‘rush hour’ traffic.”

As Roy cautiously navigated his way through the western, commercialized section of Willow Creek, Fletcher gave him instructive hints. He knew what it was like to lose your dad at a young age—and these boys had essentially lost two fathers; first, their own dad and then Anna’s. He figured they needed all the guidance and support they could get.

“Gut job,” he remarked when Roy finally made it through the maze of busy streets and down the main stretch of highway. From there, they exited onto the meandering country back roads that eventually led to the house Anna shared with her stepmother, Naomi, and Naomi’s four sons, Raymond, Roy, Eli and Evan.

“Fletcher!” seven-year-old Evan whooped, sprinting across the yard when he spotted them coming down the lane. He tore alongside the buggy shouting, “Anna’s awake!”

“Bobblemoul,” eight-year-old Eli taunted, referring to his brother as a blabbermouth. He leaped down the porch steps after him. “You weren’t supposed to tell. She said she isn’t ready to see him yet.”

“She said what?” Fletcher asked, hopping from the buggy after Roy brought it to a halt.

“Now who’s repeating something they shouldn’t?” Evan retorted to Eli.

“Roy, please hitch the horse for me,” Fletcher requested and strode toward the porch, his heart hammering his ribs.

Naomi greeted him at the door with a wooden spoon in one hand and a bowl in the other. “Kumme in,” she invited.

“Hello, Naomi. How are you?” he inquired politely before asking the question that was burning on his tongue.

“I’m gut,” she said. “I see you’re teaching Roy how to handle the horse in Englisch traffic? Denki—I worry about him around all those cars. He needs the practice.”

“He’s improving already,” Fletcher remarked and then cut to the chase. “Is it true? Is Anna awake?”

“She is,” Naomi replied. “But there’s something you need to know.”

“I’ve heard,” Fletcher acknowledged. “Eli said she isn’t ready to see me yet. I realize she probably needs a few minutes to get dressed and find her bearings. I can wait.”

“Oh, dear,” sighed Naomi. She sat down at the kitchen table and tapped a chair to indicate Fletcher should sit, as well. “I’m afraid that’s not what she means by not being ready to see you. Do you recall the doctor said her memory might be impaired after the fall?”

Fletcher moved toward the table but he didn’t sit, despite the heaviness in the core of his gut. He braced himself for another distressing disclosure. “Jah, I remember.”

“Then you recall he instructed us it most likely would only be temporary, so there’s no cause for alarm,” Naomi continued cautiously. “However, before you see her, you should be aware she’s having difficulty remembering anything at all that happened after late August or early September.”

Fletcher gulped when he realized what Naomi was getting at. “I moved to Willow Creek in early September.”

“Jah,” confirmed Naomi, answering Fletcher’s unasked question. “But the doctor said putting a face with a name may help her recollection. It’s possible as soon as she sees you she will remember who you are. However, she might not. At least, not right away.”

“Please, will you tell her I’d just like to see her?” he pleaded. “I haven’t spoken to her since before her fall.”

Naomi nodded. “I’ll let her know and I’ll ask Melinda to assist her down the stairs. Go through to the parlor. We’ll give you two your privacy there. But, Fletcher, keep in mind she’s been through a lot. She’s very sensitive right now.”

“I won’t say anything to upset her,” he promised.

As troubled as he was by Anna’s last communication to him, Fletcher’s primary concern at the moment was her well-being. Naomi had a tendency for excessive fretfulness; perhaps she was exaggerating the extent of Anna’s memory loss? Pacing back and forth across the braided rug in front of the sofa, Fletcher wiped his palms on his trousers and bit his lower lip. The past few days without seeing Anna awake had seemed unbearably long, but this delay felt even more difficult to endure.

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.