Anna's Forgotten Fiancé

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.

This early in March, they failed to spot any turtles, with or without injured feet. Once they returned home, Anna thanked Fletcher for his visit. Before leaving, he arranged to call on her the next day after dinner.

“Perhaps by then I’ll be able to remember what your favorite dessert really is,” she jested. “Although I suppose once my memory returns, we’ll have more serious concerns to discuss.”

“No doubt,” Fletcher agreed as anxiety surged within him at the mention of “serious concerns,” the same phrase she’d used in her note. Speaking to himself as much as to her, he added, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.”

* * *

“You look a little peaked,” Naomi said when Anna entered the parlor where she was sewing. She folded the material into a square and stowed it in her basket.

“The glare of the sun bothered my eyes,” Anna admitted. “And I feel a bit nauseated.”

“Uh-oh, the doctor told us to let him know if you became sick to your stomach.”

“I wasn’t sick, just nauseated. But I don’t think it’s from my head injury,” Anna rationalized. “It’s probably because I ate too much too soon after going without.”

“Kumme.” Naomi extended her hand. “Take a little nap in my room. That way, you needn’t climb the stairs.”

“But I’ve been so lazy. I’ve hardly helped with a thing today.”

“And well you shouldn’t—I keep telling you that. Now go lie down on my bed and I’ll fix us a cup of ginger tea. That should settle your stomach.”

Anna removed her shoes and reclined on the side of the bed her daed had always slept on. His dog-eared Bible still lay on the nightstand. She picked it up and tried to read the print in German, but she felt too woozy to focus. Squeezing her eyes, she imagined her father poring over Scripture whenever he had a free moment toward the end of the day. She lifted the Bible to her nose, hoping to smell the honey and oatmeal scent of the salve he used on his cracked, calloused hands in winter, but she couldn’t.

“I used to keep your daed’s sweatiest shirt hidden in my drawer so I could smell it whenever I missed him,” Naomi said when she came in and saw Anna sniffing the Bible.

“Used to?”

“After a while, it stopped smelling like him and just smelled musty,” Naomi reflected. “And I was ready to let the shirt go, because my memories of him are more tangible and comforting to me now. As the saying goes, ‘A happy memory never wears out.’”

Bursting into tears, Anna placed her cup on the nightstand so she wouldn’t spill her tea.

“Oh, Anna.” Naomi sighed. “I’m so thoughtless. I shouldn’t have mentioned my memories when you’re struggling so hard to recall your own.”

“Neh, it’s fine, truly. I’m relieved to know you’ve been doing a bit better, Naomi. I wanted to ask, I just didn’t know how to talk about...about your grief.”

“Your faithful prayers and your quiet strength, along with all of your hard work, have kept our household going, Anna. I’m grateful for all you’ve done, even if it seemed I was too sorrowful to notice.” Naomi squeezed her hand. “You remind me so much of your daed. I’ll miss having you here every day, but I’m grateful Gott provided you such a gut man as Fletcher.”

“Is he such a gut man?” Anna wondered aloud. “How do you know?”

Naomi blew on her tea before responding. “I suppose I don’t know for certain. You and Fletcher were very secretive about your courtship—even more than most Amish couples customarily are. But I have observed how sincerely considerate he is of me and how helpful he has been to Raymond and Roy at work. Beyond that, I trust your judgment. I know there must have been very sound reasons you decided to marry him.”

“I want to believe that,” Anna said. “But I honestly don’t remember what they are.”

“Give it time, it will kumme.”

“But there’s hardly any time left! Aaron courted me for two and a half years and I still wasn’t sure whether to marry him. How was it I was certain I should marry Fletcher after knowing him for less than half a year? What if the reasons don’t return to me within this next month?”

“We’ll build that bridge when we kumme to the creek,” Naomi responded with Anna’s father’s carpenter variation on the old saying, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

The two of them shared a chuckle before Naomi continued, “Even if it takes a while longer for your memory to fully return, I’d suggest you wait to make any changes to your wedding plans until the last possible moment. After all, if you postpone the wedding now and your memory suddenly kummes back, you’ll have to wait until autumn’s wedding season to get married. That delay can seem like forever to a young couple in love! Plus, you’ve already invited all of your guests. And, if you and Fletcher don’t marry in the spring, it’s my understanding the house could possibly go to Aaron and Melinda, which hardly seems fair since the two of you have already paid the back taxes. But you needn’t think about any of that today. Right now, rest is the best thing for you.”

Feeling reassured, Anna dropped into a deep slumber until she woke to someone rapping at her door. It was Melinda, declaring, “Guder mariye. Time to get up, schlofkopp.”

Noting her surroundings, Anna suddenly understood why her cousin referred to her as a sleepyhead. “I slept here all night? Where did Naomi sleep?”

“Upstairs, in your bed,” grumbled Melinda. “When I came in after curfew, she lectured me about how I must guard my reputation, even though I’m soon to be wed. By the time she finished her spiel, I hardly got a wink of sleep, but she let you sleep in, since it’s an off-Sunday.”

Although she felt completely refreshed, Anna was just as happy that church wouldn’t meet again until the following Sunday—she didn’t feel prepared to field questions about her injury from the well-meaning leit of her district. After breakfast, the family read Scripture and prayed together. They followed their worship with a time of writing letters, individual Bible reading and doing jigsaw puzzles, but since Anna was prohibited from activities that required using close vision, Evan and Eli took turns reading aloud to her. Then, after a light dinner, the boys were permitted to engage in quiet outdoor leisure and games.

“What will you and Fletcher do when he visits today?” Melinda asked her.

Anna shrugged. “I have no idea what kinds of things we enjoy doing together. I suppose we’ll take a walk and talk.” She secretly just hoped to get to know him better.

“That sounds rather boring. Why don’t you kumme out with Aaron and me?” Melinda suggested. “We’re going for a ride to the location where Aaron plans to build our house later in the spring. It will be a tight squeeze in his buggy, but we can fit.”

“Are you sure you won’t mind if we accompany you?”

“Of course not. After all, think of how many times you and Aaron let me tag along on your outings,” Melinda said.

Anna remembered. She’d intended to demonstrate how a young Amish woman ought to behave in social settings and she naively believed Aaron was being forbearing in allowing Melinda to join them: she didn’t realize he was interested in Melinda romantically.

“Besides,” Melinda chattered blithely, “Naomi won’t fret about my reputation if I’m out with you.”

Anna sighed. So that was the reason she was being invited. Still, it seemed she and Fletcher had an easier time conversing when there were more people around. “I’d like that,” she said. “As long as Fletcher doesn’t mind.”

* * *

Because they’d been so discreet about their relationship, Anna and Fletcher usually favored spending any free time they had with each other instead of attending social events within their district, such as Sunday evening singings. They’d certainly never accompanied another couple on an outing before, so Fletcher was startled when Anna asked if he’d like to join Aaron and Melinda on a ride to see the property Aaron intended to buy. But, realizing Anna wouldn’t have remembered their dislike of double dating, Fletcher deferred to her request. Besides, he was heartened by the fact Aaron was considering buying property—perhaps it meant he was as dedicated as ever to marrying Melinda, and Fletcher’s concerns about him and Anna were for naught.

The afternoon was unseasonably sunny and warm, and the tips of the trees were beginning to show dots of green and red buds. As the two couples sped up and down the hills in Aaron’s buggy, Anna kept marveling at the changes in the landscape. She noticed nearly every tree that was missing and each fence post that had been replaced after the October tornado. She seemed especially aghast to discover the schoolhouse was one of the buildings that had suffered the worst damage, but she was relieved to learn none of the children had been harmed.

“Now that you’ve had more rest and you’ve seen the destruction, surely you must remember the storm,” Aaron suggested. “It was so violent that I couldn’t forget it if I tried.”

Anna shrugged. “I still have absolutely no recollection of anything that happened in the past six months, whether big or small, positive or negative.”

“I guess that’s gut news for you, huh, Fletcher? Anna can’t remember any of your faults,” Aaron needled his cousin. “On the other hand, she probably can’t remember why she agreed to marry you, either.”

Fletcher’s mouth burned with a sour taste but before he could respond, Anna abruptly shifted the subject, asking Melinda, “Where will the two of you live until Aaron has time to build a house?”

“With Naomi and the boys,” she replied, clutching Aaron’s arm as he rounded a corner. “It will be crowded but I’m trying to convince Naomi to temporarily move into the room in the attic so we can have her room downstairs.”

From the corner of his eye, Fletcher caught Anna frowning. He usually felt as if he could read her expression as easily as the pages in a book, but today he couldn’t tell if she was scowling because of Aaron’s rambunctious driving, Melinda’s gall in asking Naomi to take the attic room, or some other reason altogether. The uncertainty caused his mouth to sag, too.

“Here we are,” Aaron announced as he swiftly brought the horse to a standstill. He made a sweeping motion with his hand to indicate the field to their right.

“The old Lantz homestead?” Fletcher asked.

The modest square of land on the corner of the Zooks’ farm used to belong to Albert Lantz, who resided with his granddaughter, Hannah. After their home was flattened by the tornado, they chose not to rebuild because Hannah married a visiting cabinetmaker from Blue Hill, Ohio, and thus moved out of state. Her grandfather accompanied her, but first he sold his property back to the youngest generation of the Zook family, who now lived on the farm.

“Their old homestead and then some,” Aaron boasted. “The Lantz plot was barely as big as a postage stamp. I’m in negotiations with Oliver Zook to purchase the acreage running all the way down the hill to the stream.”

“Isn’t it wunderbaar?” sang Melinda, spreading her arms and twirling across the grass.

“Jah, it’s lovely,” Anna answered, but Fletcher noticed how taut her neck and jaw muscles appeared. Was she jealous? Was she imagining herself, instead of Melinda, owning a house with Aaron in such a picturesque location? Fletcher stubbed his shoe on a root as the tumultuous thoughts rattled his concentration.

“Kumme, have a look at my stream,” Aaron beckoned.

“I believe the stream belongs to Gott, although He’s generous enough to allow it to run through your property—or actually, through Oliver Zook’s property,” Fletcher stated wryly.

“Lighten up. Worship services are over for the day,” Aaron countered. “Or if you’re going to preach at me, how about remembering the commandment, Thou shalt not covet?”

“Stop bickering,” Melinda called. “This is a happy occasion, remember? Hooray!”

She picked up a handful of old, dried leaves and tossed them into the air and then tried to catch them as they fluttered around her. Then she and Aaron cavorted down the hill like schoolchildren, racing to tag each other’s shadows until they disappeared into the woods, while Fletcher and Anna followed at a slower pace, neither one speaking.

When they reached the stream, Anna closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Mmm, it smells like spring,” she said, and then raised her lids to view the bubbling current, the gently sloping embankment and the thick stand of trees. “What a beautiful place.”

“I have to agree, it’s a fine fishing spot,” Fletcher responded. Thinking aloud, he added, “But Aaron’s too impatient to fish and even if he weren’t, Melinda’s such a chatterbox, she’d frighten the fish away.”

Anna narrowed her brows. “That may be true of them now,” she said, “but people change. They grow. With Gott’s help, we all do.”

Fletcher hadn’t intended to be insulting. He simply meant the location seemed better suited to his and Anna’s preferences than to Aaron and Melinda’s, since he enjoyed fishing and Anna appreciated solitude, so he was surprised by how quickly Anna seemed to defend them. And what did her comment about people changing and growing mean, anyway? Was she indicating that she had changed? Was she implying she thought Aaron had grown? Fletcher’s brooding was interrupted when Melinda capered up the embankment.

“Help!” she squealed. “Aaron’s trying to splash me and that water’s freezing!”

Aaron reappeared and the four of them ascended the hill. At the top, they were greeted by Oliver Zook. “Guder nammidaag. Grace sent me to invite our prospective new neighbors and their future in-laws for cookies and cider.”

“That sounds wunderbaar,” Melinda said, accepting the invitation for all of them.

The fragrance of hot cider and freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen when Grace ushered everyone inside. As they situated themselves in the parlor, where Doris and John Plank were also visiting, the Zooks’ baby began wailing in the next room.

“I’ll get her while you prepare the refreshments,” Oliver said, squeezing his wife’s shoulder.

“Wait till you see how much she’s grown since the last time you saw her, Anna,” Grace remarked before leaving the room, understandably ignorant of Anna’s amnesia.

When Oliver returned, jostling the fussy baby, Aaron suggested, “You should let Anna take her. She has such a soothing, maternal touch. She was always able to comfort my eldest sister’s son when he was a newborn.”

“Jah, I remember,” Anna said, smiling as she lifted Serenity from Oliver’s arms. “Your nephew had colic and your poor sister was exhausted because he gave her no rest.”

Although he knew it wasn’t Anna’s fault, Fletcher felt a slight twinge of sadness that she could remember everything that happened during her courtship with Aaron, but not a thing that happened during her courtship with him. And who was Aaron to openly flatter Anna, as if he were still her suitor? Of course, Aaron’s compliment was well deserved: within a few moments of cooing and swaying, the bobbel had fallen asleep in Anna’s arms. She sat back down and accepted a cup of cider from Grace with her free hand.