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.
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