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 HarperCollinsPublishers 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.

“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 September 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.”

On the surface, her response reminded him of the many conversations he’d had with Joyce, whom he suspected had developed a romantic affection for her brother-in-law’s visiting cousin, Frederick. Joyce vehemently and consistently denied it, until four days before she and Fletcher were scheduled to wed, when she finally admitted the truth. But there was something fundamentally different about Anna, and as she declared her love for Fletcher, she stared into his eyes with such devotion that all of his worries melted away.

Fletcher remembered how, a few weeks after he and Anna confided their marriage intentions to their families, Melinda and Aaron announced they’d begun meeting with the deacon and they also planned to wed in the spring. Because Melinda seemed especially immature, their decision surprised Fletcher, but he was relieved to confirm Anna was right: Aaron was wholly committed to Melinda. Or so he’d thought at the time. But Anna’s recent note shook his confidence to the core.

What in the world could have transpired concerning Aaron to make Anna hesitant to carry on with preparations to marry me? Burying his head in his hands, Fletcher shuddered to imagine. He knew from experience that people changed their minds. Engagements could be broken, even days before a wedding. There was still time. Was he was about to be forsaken by his fiancée for another man again? The possibility of having to withstand that kind of rejection a second time made Fletcher’s skin bead with sweat. The only way he’d know for certain was to talk to Anna about her note. But first, she’d have to remember what she meant when she’d penned it.

Chapter Two

As the sun began to light the room, Anna peered at her cousin asleep in the twin bed across from her. She rose to make the boys’ breakfast, but when her feet touched the chilly floor, she pulled them back into bed, deciding to snuggle beneath the blankets just a little longer.

The tiny room on the third floor of the house was actually a part of the attic her father had sectioned off especially for her. More than once she’d knocked her head against the sloping ceiling and the room tended to be hotter in the summer and colder in the winter than the rest of the house, but she had always relished the privacy it afforded her from the four boys.

She’d had the room all to herself until Melinda’s father sent Melinda to live with Anna’s family a year ago in January because he wanted her to have better influences than he could provide. Naomi’s sister had died twelve years earlier and her brother-in-law never remarried, so Melinda had grown up without any females in her home. It was said by many that she was capricious, or perhaps undisciplined. Some went so far as to call her lazy, a quality condemned by the Amish. Anna observed that the girl was generally willing to perform almost any chore, but she often became distracted in the middle of it and moved on to another endeavor.

“Half-done is far from done,” was the Amish proverb Anna most often quoted to Melinda the first year of her residence with Anna’s family. Serving as Melinda’s role model had been a frustrating effort, yet Anna mused that if Melinda had committed herself to following God and had been baptized into the church, then her living with them had been worthwhile. It meant Melinda had put her wild Rumspringa years behind her; surely if she’d made that change, there was hope for other areas of her behavior, as well.

Melinda’s eyes opened. “Guder mariye.” She yawned. “I’m Melinda, your cousin.”

Anna giggled. “Jah, I know. Are you going to introduce yourself to me every time I wake?”

Melinda laughed, too. “You were staring at me. I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I was marveling that such a young woman has decided upon marriage already.”

Melinda sat straight up. “You remembered Aaron and I are getting married!”

“Neh, Fletcher mentioned it. He thought I already knew.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not that young—I’m eighteen now. You’re only four years older than I am,” Melinda reasoned. “Besides, I’ve known Aaron over twice as long as you’ve known Fletcher. I think that makes us far better prepared to spend our lives together.”

“Hmm,” Anna hummed noncommittally. Melinda may have been eighteen, but at times she acted fourteen. Yet Anna couldn’t deny she made a valid point about the brevity of Anna’s relationship with Fletcher. Then she raised her hands to her cheeks as her cousin’s words sank in—she herself was older than she remembered.

“That’s right, I must be twenty-two now since my birthday was in September! Time flies when you have amnesia.”

Melinda giggled and the two of them made their beds, got dressed and followed the smell of frying bacon down the stairs. When everyone was seated around the table, Raymond said grace, thanking the Lord especially for Anna’s recovery. She was so hungry that she devoured as large a serving of food as her brothers did.

“If it’s Saturday, that must mean you’re working a half day today, right?” she asked Raymond and Roy, who both nodded since their mouths were full. “I can drop you off on my way to the shop. Joseph Schrock will be relieved to have me back.”

“Neh,” Naomi answered. “The doctor said you couldn’t return to work until after your follow-up appointment. In fact, he said you should limit activities of exertion and anything that requires close concentration, such as sewing or reading, until he sees you again.”

“Nonsense,” Anna argued. “I’m as healthy as a horse—physically, anyway. There’s no reason I can’t ring up purchases and help Englisch customers decide which quilt to purchase or whether their grandchildren might prefer rocking horses or wooden trains. Besides, we need the income and Joseph needs the help.”

Naomi began twisting her hands. “You have a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday. Please, won’t you wait until you receive his approval before returning to the shop?”

Not wishing to cause Naomi any undue anxiety, Anna conceded. “Alright, I’ll wait. But you must at least allow me to help with the housework. How about if I prepare an easy dinner?”

“That sounds gut,” Melinda interjected. “If I drop the boys off at the work site before I go to the market, I’m certain Fletcher or Aaron will give them a ride home. Perhaps we can invite them for dinner, since Fletcher wanted to check in on Anna again today anyway?”

Anna caught Naomi’s eye and gave a slight shrug. Melinda’s habit of finagling a way out of chores in order to spend time with Aaron predated Anna’s accident and she remembered her cousin’s tactics well.

“Jah,” Naomi permitted. “They’re both wilkom to eat dinner with us. But I’ll drop the boys off and go to the market myself. You may begin the housework and assist Anna in the kitchen if she requires it. Evan and Eli have yard and stable chores to complete.”

Although Anna made a simple green bean and ham casserole for lunch, with apple dumplings for dessert, it took her twice as long as usual and she was grateful when Naomi suggested that she rest before everyone arrived. She felt as if her head had barely touched the pillow when Melinda wiggled her arm to wake her again. She disappeared before Anna could ask for help fixing her hair, because it still pained her head when she attempted to fasten her tresses into a bun. She winced as she pulled her hair back the best she could and pinned on her kapp.

“Guder nammidaag, Anna,” Fletcher said when he crossed the threshold to the parlor. Warmth flickered along her spine as she took in his athletic, lanky build and shiny dark mane, but she wasn’t flooded with the rush of additional memories she’d been praying to experience at the sight of him. “How are you feeling today?” he asked.

“I’m fine, denki,” she answered. Standing rigidly before him, trying to think of something to say that didn’t sound so punctilious, she impulsively jested, “You’re Aaron, right?”

Fletcher looked as if a horse had stepped on his foot. “Neh!” he exclaimed. “I’m Fletcher. Fletcher Chupp, your fiancé. Aaron is my cousin.”

“I’m teasing!” she assured him, instantly regretting her joke. “I know who you are.”

“You do?” he asked, raising his brows. “Your memory has returned?”

“Oh dear, neh,” she replied. “I mean, I remember you from last night. I know that you’re my fiancé. But neh, I don’t remember anything other than that.”

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.

“See that, Fletcher? The bobbel in one hand, a cup in the other.” Oliver laughed. “Anna will have no problem keeping your household in order.”

Anna demurely glanced at Fletcher from beneath her lashes and a tickle of exhilaration caused his nerves to tingle. He momentarily forgot all about her note as a glimpse of their future bobblin flashed across his mind’s eye.

“You’re a fortunate man, indeed,” Doris Plank interjected. “But I have to say, you could have knocked me over with a feather when the intentions were announced. For the longest time, I suspected Aaron was betrothed to Anna. Even after it was rumored he’d begun walking out with you, Melinda, I always assumed he’d eventually wind up with Anna again, don’t ask me why. But then, I never expected I’d marry John, either, so I guess it’s a gut thing I’m not a matchmaker!”

As Doris gleefully tittered at her own humor, Fletcher’s ears burned and his jaw dropped. Doris had a reputation for making bold remarks, but he’d personally never been on the receiving end of one and he didn’t know how to respond without sounding rude himself.

“Jah, life is full of wunderbaar surprises for everyone, isn’t it?” Grace diplomatically cut in. She passed the tray to Anna. “Here, Anna, you haven’t had a cookie.”

“Denki, but neh,” Anna declined. “I...I...”

“She has to watch her figure,” Melinda finished for her. “But I don’t, so I’ll take some.”

“Ah, you must have finished sewing your wedding dress then, Anna?” Grace’s eyes lit up. “You don’t want to have to make any last-minute alterations, is that it? If you’re anything like I was, you’re counting down the days!”

Blushing, Anna gave a pinched smile and a slight shrug but didn’t answer.

“You’re fortunate your intended is so calm, Fletcher,” Oliver remarked, as he patted his wife’s hand. “As soon as our intentions were published, the wedding preparations were all Grace talked about to anyone who would listen. And even to some people who wouldn’t!”

As everyone else laughed, Fletcher did his best not to frown, acutely aware that Anna’s last communication about their wedding preparations had been anything but enthusiastic.

Suddenly, Melinda sniffed exaggeratedly and declared, “Oopsie! I think Serenity needs a diaper change.”

All three couples soon made their way out the door. As they departed the farm and headed back toward Anna’s house, Fletcher thought, The schtinke of a dirty diaper makes a fitting end to this afternoon. Disappointed that he and Anna hadn’t exchanged a private word between them, and feeling even less certain about their future today than he’d felt all week, Fletcher decided the next time he went out with Anna, they were going out alone.

Chapter Three

The Sabbath was supposed to be a day of rest, but Anna felt utterly exhausted by the time she said her prayers and slipped into bed. Yet as achy and tired as her body was, her brain was wide-awake, reliving the afternoon’s unpleasant events.

First, the buggy lurched about so much, she’d become increasingly nauseated as they journeyed toward their destination. Second, she was nettled by Aaron’s wisecrack about her continued inability to remember Fletcher—and judging from Fletcher’s expression, he was equally peeved. Third, Melinda’s prancing and twirling caused Anna’s head to spin. Then, Fletcher and Aaron squabbled like two boys on a playground. Finally, when she tried to focus her attention on something positive by commenting on the beauty of the scenery, Fletcher pulled a face. His remarks about Aaron’s and Melinda’s personalities may have been true, but they weren’t especially generous, which made her wonder if he was characteristically judgmental.

Not that Aaron or Melinda took much care to measure their own words about others: Melinda’s pronounced insinuation that Anna needed to watch her weight would have been humiliating, had it been true. In reality, she’d been far too nauseated to eat any cookies, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself by saying so.

Of course, all eyes had been on her when Grace questioned Anna about whether she’d sewn her wedding dress or not. Making her dress was one of the wedding preparations an Amish bride reveled in most, but Anna couldn’t even recall if she’d bought her fabric yet. Nor did she know if she’d selected her newehockers, also known as sidesitters or wedding attendants, and given them the fabric for their dresses, which would match hers. Had she made Fletcher’s wedding suit for him, as was the tradition?

If she hadn’t begun sewing yet, should she bother starting now, given that her memory might not return in time to carry through with the wedding? On the other hand, if she delayed making the garments until her memory returned, it was likely she’d have to rush to finish them, since there were only a few weeks until the wedding as it was.

Of course, her dilemma about their wedding clothes wasn’t nearly as disconcerting as her growing concern about whether or not they should get married at all. Anna hesitated to bring up the subject with Fletcher, who demonstrated no signs of hesitation about carrying through with their plans. Considering all they’d apparently invested in their relationship, their house and their wedding, how could she tell him she had doubts about their future together? Once her misgivings were voiced, there’d be no taking them back. Even if her concerns were legitimate under the circumstances, Anna was aware of how deeply they might hurt Fletcher. Completely exasperated, she cried herself to sleep, stirring only once when Melinda’s footsteps creaked on the stairs.

By morning, she resolved to exercise more patience as she waited upon the Lord to guide her about what to do next in regard to the wedding. After praying once again for her memory to return—and for a sense of peace in the meantime—she managed to comb her hair into a loose likeness of a bun. She had breakfast on the stove before Naomi could forbid her to help. She knew her stepmother was only concerned for her health, but Anna was growing increasingly restless from being told she couldn’t do her share of work around the house.

Naomi chided her anyway. “The doctor said for you to take it easy. Where is Melinda hiding this morning?”

“Here I am,” Melinda answered, skittering into the room.

“Gut. Since you and Anna need the buggy to go into town today, I’ll drop Raymond and Roy off at work,” Naomi suggested. “While I’m gone, I’d like you to clean the breakfast dishes and wring and hang the laundry, please. And remember, Anna isn’t to help with any housework until she’s seen the doctor again.”

The ride to the mercantile was much smoother than it had been in Aaron’s buggy, and on the way, Anna asked Melinda about their shopping list. She assumed they were picking up grocery staples for the week and she thought dividing the list would make the task easier.

“Oopsie, you must have forgotten our plan, since we arranged today’s outing prior to your accident,” Melinda replied. “We’re not buying groceries. I’m buying organdy for my wedding apron. I also need to check to see whether the fabric has arrived for my dress and my newehockers’ dresses. Aaron’s mother is sewing his wedding suit, so I needn’t concern myself with that. What do you intend to purchase today?”

Anna swiveled toward her and cocked her head, racking her brain. If only Melinda had reminded her they were going fabric shopping, she might have had an opportunity to discuss the matter with Naomi, whose practical and Godly advice she valued.

“I don’t know that I’ll purchase anything,” she finally responded. “After Grace’s question yesterday, I checked my sewing basket and the closet this morning and I didn’t find evidence I’ve been working on my wedding dress, but I didn’t have a chance to ask Naomi if I might have hung it somewhere else. Nor do I know if I’ve finished Fletcher’s suit. I don’t even know whether I’ve chosen my newehockers or who they might be.”

Melinda clicked her tongue. “That’s the trouble with being so secretive. To be honest, it hurt my feelings a bit that you never confided in me about your relationship with Fletcher. Perhaps if you’d told me more, I’d be able to help determine your sewing needs now. But, as Aaron and I agree, it makes sense that you and Fletcher hid your courtship from everyone, especially from us.”

Anna silently counted backward from ten before responding. “Plenty of Amish couples still practice discretion about sharing their courtship—the custom isn’t intended to insult anyone, so I’m sorry if you felt that way,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “But what do you mean it made sense we’d keep our courtship hidden, especially from you?”

“Oh, you know,” Melinda prattled on obliviously, working the reins. “I imagine you might have worried if you brought Fletcher around socially, he would have been drawn to me, the way Aaron was. Not that I’d ever be interested in Fletcher, of course, but you must have some lingering worries. It’s only natural. Also, Aaron said the two of you never kept your courtship such a secret. He thinks that you and Fletcher didn’t let anyone know you were courting because you were worried Aaron might tell Fletcher that he was your second choice.”

“Oh really?” Anna asked drily. What hogwash! She was the one who begged her father and Naomi not to send Melinda back to Ohio after she discovered her shenanigans with Aaron! And she was the one who insisted she was glad Melinda had found an Amish boyfriend instead of an Englischer because maybe he’d be a good influence on her! As for Aaron, she’d gotten over their breakup within a couple of weeks. Some of his ideas were so preposterous Anna wondered why she’d ever accepted him as her suitor.

They continued in silence until they reached the designated horse and buggy lot on the far end of Main Street. After they’d secured the animal at the hitching post, Anna said, “I’m going to Schrock’s while you’re at the mercantile. I expect you back within half an hour, please.”

The bells jingled when she pushed open the door of Schrock’s Shop, and Anna’s agitation was replaced with a sense of nostalgia. She took special pleasure in the resourcefulness and creativity of the Amish leit from her district, who consigned their handiwork in the large store. Today the gallery bustled with tourists in search of specialty Amish items such as quilts, toys, furniture, dried flower wreaths and naturally scented candles. She knew Joseph Schrock must have been pleased so many people were making purchases, although he looked overwhelmed by the line stretching from the register to the door. It seemed such a shame Anna couldn’t work that afternoon, but she decided not to add to Joseph’s burden by interrupting him with small talk.

She browsed the aisles, noting the price and location of the inventory. I don’t recall any of these items being stacked here, she thought. She took a square of paper and a pencil from her purse and jotted down the contents on the shelves so she could study them before returning to work. When she finished, she turned to leave, nearly bumping into another young Amish woman whose arms were loaded with bars of homemade soap.

“Excuse me,” she apologized, bending to retrieve the bars that had spilled from the woman’s grasp.

“Anna!” the woman declared. “It’s so gut to see you—I wasn’t sure if you’d be stopping in today. We’ve been praying for you since we heard about your head injury. How do you feel?”

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