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“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.