Anna's Forgotten Fiancé. Carrie Lighte
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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,