Carrie Lighte - Anna's Forgotten Fiancé

“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.”