Anna's Forgotten Fiancé

by Carrie Lighte

  In the recollection, Fletcher stood not five feet from where Evan was now pitching a rock into the rushing water. He had just kissed her and she was trying to secure her prayer kapp over her hair, which had become mussed when she jerked away from him. She recalled that they had argued and she was crying. As the scant details manifested in her mind’s eye, Anna’s knees trembled and she began to pant, trying to catch her breath.

  “Boys,” she weakly summoned them. “It’s time to go. Kumme, take my hands, please. I’m not feeling quite right.”

  They steadied her up the hill and delivered her into Naomi’s care.

  “You’re as pale as a sheet and shaking like a leaf,” Naomi fretted. “I never should have permitted you to do so much last week. I’m sending Raymond to the phone shanty to call Dr. Donovan.”

  “Neh, please don’t,” Anna argued feebly as her teeth chattered. “I j-just need to get warm. It was nippy near the creek. Dr. Donovan’s office is probably closed for the weekend anyway.”

  Naomi scrutinized Anna’s face. Finally, she allowed, “I’ll put on a pot of tea and Melinda will draw you a bath. We’ll see how you’re doing after that. But if I suspect so much as a hint of a fever, I’ll have Raymond bring us to the hospital straightaway.”

  Although she couldn’t stomach the tea and toast Naomi prepared for her, Anna stopped shaking after taking a bath. At her stepmother’s insistence, she nestled into Naomi’s bed, where Naomi swaddled her in quilts and set a bell at her side to ring if she needed assistance. But Anna only wanted to be alone, and once she was, she wept into her arms, wishing she could forget the very memories she’d been praying so fervently to recall.

  * * *

  When Fletcher arrived at Anna’s house on Sunday afternoon, Naomi greeted him at the door. Her skin was wan and her eyes were bloodshot. “Guder nammidaag, Fletcher. I’m afraid I can’t invite you in. Anna has taken ill and Eli is sick, too. I don’t want you to catch whatever is plaguing our household.”

  Fletcher’s heart raced. Anna was ill? But at least it couldn’t have been related to her concussion, since Eli was also sick, right? “Is there something I can do to help?” he asked.

  “Neh. Neither one of them has a fever. And although Eli’s had terrible stomach pains, they seem to have subsided. Right now I think rest is the best thing for both of them.”

  “May I call on Anna this evening?” Fletcher asked.

  “Neh,” Naomi responded sharply before softening her tone. “I’m sorry, Fletcher, but I fear it was my fault she overdid it last week, which is why she’s sick now, so I have to put my foot down. I’ll be sure to tell her you asked after her and wanted to see her, but I wouldn’t allow it.”

  “But—”

  “If you don’t want her to risk having to return to the hospital, you’ll support her recovery by allowing her to rest,” Naomi reiterated firmly.

  Fletcher couldn’t argue with Naomi’s logic, so he reluctantly returned home. Once there, he found himself at a loss for things to do. He’d already spent the morning in worship with his uncle’s family, and usually Anna and her brothers were the only people he visited during off-Sundays. Since moving to Willow Creek, he’d been befriended by a few of the older men in the district, but he didn’t feel comfortable dropping in on them and their families uninvited.

  Since it was the Sabbath, all but the most essential work was prohibited. As it was, he’d already completed everything except painting the alcove he’d created for Anna, and he routinely kept up the stable and yard. In regard to the house’s interior, it was tidy, but he realized it definitely needed a woman’s touch. Soon enough, he thought as he sat down in the parlor.

  He read Scripture for an hour and then enjoyed a long nap. When he awoke, he decided to write his sisters, as he was long overdue in replying to their letter.

  Dear Esther, Leah, Rebekah & Families,

  I hope this note finds everyone healthy. Thank you for your good wishes and faithful prayers, as expressed in your last letter. I am sorry for my delay in responding. I’m afraid I’ve been distracted because Anna recently suffered a head injury that resulted in substantial memory loss. Rest assured, she is recovering well. Physically, she no longer suffers from the headaches or nausea she endured immediately following her fall, and her recollections are also returning to her. Still, I covet your prayers for her complete healing.

  I look forward to hearing all about what has been happening in your lives when we talk in person at the wedding, if not by letter before then.

  Until then, may the Lord bless you.

  —Fletcher.

  After he affixed a stamp to the envelope, Fletcher carried the letter to the mailbox for the carrier to pick up the following day. When he unlatched the door to the box, a flurry of envelopes fluttered to the ground and he snorted to realize it must have been days since he’d retrieved the mail; clearly he valued the notes Raymond delivered much more than those the carrier brought. Most of the spilled items were advertisements and bills, but one was a personal letter written in a hand he didn’t immediately recognize. Tearing it open as he walked, he read:

  Fletcher,

  I’ve heard the news that you are soon to be wed and I hope you will accept my sincere congratulations. I also hope you will permit me this belated apology for the anguish I caused. Whether you believe me or not, I didn’t deliberately intend to deceive you. I honestly didn’t know my own heart. That is, I honestly didn’t fully comprehend how I felt about Frederick until it was almost too late.

  For both of our sakes, I’m grateful you and I didn’t marry and I trust you are even more grateful than I. In any case, I pray for you all of the love and happiness you so richly deserve. May the Lord bless your marriage abundantly.

  Joyce Wittmer.

  Fletcher stopped in his tracks and reread the note. On one hand, he was appalled that Joyce had the nerve to write him—especially because she said how grateful she was they hadn’t gotten married! On the other hand, she was right: he was even more grateful than she was. If it hadn’t been for Joyce calling off their wedding, Fletcher never would have discovered what true love was, because he wouldn’t have moved to Willow Creek and met Anna. As for forgiving Joyce, he’d done that long ago, even if he occasionally battled leftover feelings related to their breakup. But Fletcher accepted her apology for what it was: an earnest expression of contrition.

  When he got inside, he crumpled up the note and threw it in the woodstove. It was a reminder of old hurts that belonged to the past. He was looking ahead now, to his future with Anna. As he stirred a pot of canned soup for supper, he thought about the tender kisses they’d shared the day before, and he imagined those they’d exchange in the future; perhaps even as soon as tomorrow. He ate quickly and, despite having taken a nap, he turned in to bed early, hoping to hasten the arrival of a new day.

  Instead, he slept fitfully and the night seemed to stretch on twice as long as usual. As he listlessly twisted this way and that, a single unbidden thought came to mind: What if Anna doesn’t know her own heart, either? He dismissed the idea almost the second he thought it, chalking it up to his thwarted longing to see her again. But his restlessness kept him awake for hours, until he finally decided to dress and go to work, arriving well before the break of dawn.

  He was surprised when Roy and Raymond walked in carrying a battery-powered nail gun and drill less than a half an hour after sunrise.

  “Guder mariye,” Fletcher said. He barely waited for a reply before asking, “How’s Anna?”

  “I think she’s alright,” Roy replied. “Mamm took her some broth last night and she finished it all.”

  “But there’s no note for you,” Raymond said, anticipating Fletcher’s question. “She was still sleeping when we left.”

  Although his hope was deflated, Fletcher responded, “That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll speak to her tonight. Do you two need a ha
nd carrying in more tools?”

  “Neh, there’s only one more load. We’ve got it,” Raymond replied as the brothers exited and Aaron entered.

  He looked startled to see Fletcher. “What time did you get here?”

  “An hour and a half ago,” Fletcher replied.

  “Why are you always doing that?” Aaron challenged him, setting down the portable table saw with a loud clatter.

  “Doing what?” Fletcher had no idea what the problem was.

  “You’ve always got to show me up. Staying later, coming in earlier. What are you trying to prove?”

  “Aaron, I’m helping you, not competing with you,” Fletcher argued.

  “Well, don’t think just because you came in early you’re going to leave early. The entire reason I’m here now is because we’ve got to finish up this floor today. I took another contract that starts tomorrow morning.”

  Fletcher resisted the urge to ask Aaron why he accepted another simultaneous project when they clearly weren’t finished with this one. He could tell his cousin was tense enough as it was, so instead, Fletcher channeled his frustration into performing his work, motivating himself with the fact that the sooner they finished, the sooner he’d get to see Anna again.

  * * *

  On Monday, Anna lingered in bed. After Sunday’s long nap and a good night’s rest, her quivering had stopped, but she kept her eyes closed, trying to convince herself that yesterday’s recurrent unpleasant memory of kissing Fletcher was only a dream. Yet deep down she knew sooner or later, she’d have to ask for Fletcher’s help in making sense of the awful image that kept coming to mind. He’d told her he didn’t want her to hide anything from him, didn’t he? But what would she say? How could she tell him, “I have a vague recollection of kissing you at the creek and being wholly repulsed”? After his vulnerable confession the other day, she didn’t want to shake his confidence about her feelings for him.

  “Are you still asleep or are you just pretending so you won’t have to make breakfast?” Melinda whispered.

  “Neither,” Anna said, raising her lids. “I’m awake but I’m not deliberately trying to get out of helping with breakfast. That would be irresponsible.”

  “Oh,” Melinda said, seemingly deaf to Anna’s reproach. “I was wondering, how far have you progressed with your wedding dress?”

  “I’ve got considerable work to do,” Anna responded vaguely, sitting up. Although she was certain she hadn’t moved her wedding dress fabric from the other side of the attic, it was no longer there. For fear of being teased about her forgetfulness by her cousin, Anna didn’t want to inquire if Melinda had moved it. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, since Naomi will likely confine you to our room today anyway, do you suppose you’d mind making some adjustments to the sleeves and hem on mine? Joseph has asked me to work extra hours at the shop and I don’t see how I’ll finish my dress unless you help me.”

  Anna felt like suggesting Melinda might try staying in instead of running around with Aaron every night. But since she knew her suggestion was futile, she reluctantly agreed. “Alright, try it on and let me see what needs to be done.”

  As her cousin was changing into the violet dress and she was making her bed, Anna asked, “So, Joseph wants you to work extra hours at the shop?”

  “Jah, he even mentioned keeping me on after you return. Sales are up since I started working there,” Melinda boasted as she climbed onto a stool so Anna could examine the hem.

  Anna held pins pressed between her lips and she didn’t reply.

  “I think it’s because I have a way with Englisch customers,” Melinda babbled. “Tessa Fisher barely utters two words to them, so I think they appreciate having a chatty, comely Amish girl like me to approach— Ouch! You pricked me with that pin!”

  “Did I?” Anna asked innocently. “Turn toward me, please.”

  “How do I look?” Melinda hinted.

  “Crooked.” Anna frowned, smoothing the hem.

  “Not the dress—me,” Melinda emphasized.

  Anna took a step backward and tipped her head upward for a better look at the full dress. The color accentuated Melinda’s dark hair and eyes, gathering modestly over the curves of her girlish figure. She would make a beautiful bride.

  Anna answered honestly, “You look lovely, absolutely lovely.” Which was exactly how Anna wanted to feel in her own wedding dress.

  It’s not fair, she thought in an instant of self-pity. Why should Melinda get to experience such excitement about her wedding, when I’ve experienced little but anxiety about mine?

  “Denki,” Melinda said, hopping down from the stool and twirling in a circle before giving Anna a hug. “Denki for everything, Anna. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be getting married and I wouldn’t have a job at the shop. In a way, it’s almost a blessing you had a concussion.”

  Annoyed by Melinda’s complete lack of sensitivity, Anna tugged her cousin’s arms from around her neck. “Stop that,” she snapped. “You’re hurting me.” And I’ve been in pain for long enough as it is.

  After dressing, she made her way into the kitchen where she said good morning to Naomi and then asked, “Are Raymond and Roy out milking?”

  “Neh, Aaron picked the boys up very early this morning. How do you feel today?”

  “As strong as an ox,” Anna claimed. She supposed it was just as well the boys had left before she could send a note with Raymond, since she wasn’t sure what to write to Fletcher anyway. She figured he’d come for supper and by then she would have collected her thoughts.

  “Oh, am I ever relieved to hear that!” Naomi exclaimed. Then she said, “This morning, I’ll be taking Evan to school and dropping Melinda off in town, and then I’m stopping at the phone shanty to make an appointment for Eli at the clinic in Highland Springs.”

  “The clinic in Highland Springs?” Anna repeated. The Englisch-run clinic offered pediatric care exclusively to members of the Amish community. “What’s wrong with Eli?”

  “He was sick to his stomach shortly after you returned from the creek. His cramps came and went all night, but he doesn’t have a fever. I recall his stomach hurting him the other day, too, so I want to be sure there’s nothing seriously wrong.”

  “That’s a gut idea,” Anna agreed. “I’ll stay here with him now and then accompany you to his appointment when you get back.”

  As it turned out, Naomi couldn’t schedule an appointment until four o’clock. She sat next to Anna in the front seat, while Eli curled up with a hot water bottle in the back. Once they arrived at the clinic, Naomi was softly reading aloud to her son when the disturbing image again troubled Anna’s mind.

  “I’m going to stretch my legs,” she announced before ambling down the long corridor.

  She was examining a colorful mural of barnyard animals when a voice behind her resounded, “Anna! What brings you to the children’s clinic?”

  She recognized his voice before she angled around to greet him. “Hello, Dr. Donovan.” She couldn’t help but smile when speaking to the kind man. “My brother has a stomachache.”

  “Ah, we get a lot of those around here. I mean, our patients do. I volunteer here once a month,” he explained. “Usually, the stomachaches are nothing serious. But what about you, how are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” Anna said, but to her dismay, her eyes unexpectedly spouted fat tears.

  Dr. Donovan clasped her elbow, ushering her into an empty office, where he motioned for her to sit. Then he passed a box of tissues across the desk and clasped his hands over his belly while she blew her nose. “I take it your memories haven’t returned then, eh?” he asked.

  “Actually, they have. Not too many of Fletcher or our courtship, but plenty of other people and events.”

  “That’s a good sign, yet you’re not happy?”

  “I’m...I’m frust
rated. And confused,” she confessed. “At first, my recollection of the past six months seemed as blank as a field of snow. Now when the memories come back, some of them remind me of scuffling along a winding path covered with fallen leaves. They’re turned every which way and I can’t make sense of them. I don’t know what’s a memory and what’s a dream.”

  Dr. Donovan bobbed his head vigorously. “Those are excellent metaphors for what it feels like to have your memories return. I’ve never heard a patient describe the process quite like that, but it’s very common for them to tell me their recollections are fuzzy, foggy or dreamlike.”

  “It’s common?” Anna raised her eyebrows. “Then how do your patients know what really happened and what didn’t?”

  “As I’ve said before, it takes time for the brain to heal. I’d suggest you hold on to your recollections loosely for the time being, because things aren’t always as they seem to be. Meanwhile, trust this,” Dr. Donovan advised, placing his hand over his heart. “Not this,” he added, pointing to his head.

  Her mind eased, Anna gushed, “Thank you, Dr. Donovan! Thank you!” as his phone buzzed.

  She closed the door behind her and stepped into the hall to find Naomi approaching. Eli was holding her hand and sucking on a lollipop. It occurred to Anna he looked healthier and more energetic than his mamm did. After Naomi confirmed the doctor said there was nothing wrong with Eli that two more days of a restricted diet wouldn’t cure, they walked to the buggy.

  By the time Anna steered them through an especially grueling rush hour traffic jam and up the lane to their house, it was six o’clock. Naomi said she had a blinding headache, so Anna advised her to lie down, even though by then her own head was beginning to pound. Figuring she was probably only peckish, Anna anticipated a good hot meal would revive her and she swiftly stabled the horse before entering the house, where it was clear Melinda hadn’t started supper. When she found her cousin in the sitting room with her kapp askew and her arms draped around Aaron’s neck, Anna clenched her teeth. Couldn’t Melinda ever be counted on to perform the most basic tasks without being prompted? Anna’s knees felt wobbly and she steadied herself against the doorframe.