Mail Order Farmer Read online

  Let her get to know him first. If it was just her and her mother, it could overwhelm her.

  He brushed Twitty down and let him out into the pasture. Nightfall came earlier this time of year and it was already dark. He headed toward the house. The basement lights were on, the flicker of the TV coming from the egress windows. His mom was probably on the computer, combing Pinterest for her next big project that she never started. His dad was probably in the recliner on his second or third beer. Hopefully, they had decided on a program to watch and the arguing would be at a minimum.

  Warmth encompassed him as he entered his house. The mudroom dripped with coats. There were no hooks left for his. How the hell had they done it when his brothers were younger before his parents had tried moving them to town? The boots and coats were bigger than in those days.

  Jackson was going to college after next summer and would only be home on the weekends, during breaks, and all summer. Nicolas would be a senior.

  Aaron draped his coat on the bench and toed his boots off. Something smelled good. He assigned his brothers cooking nights and tonight had been Nicolas’s, unless he traded with Jackson because it was Friday and out of all of them, Nicolas had a more active personal life.

  Aaron went in search of leftovers. The fridge revealed a small container of beef stroganoff that might feed a toddler.

  “Thanks a lot,” he muttered.

  He dug out bread and lunchmeat and assembled a sandwich. As he was wolfing it down, Nicolas passed through on a wave of cologne.

  “Whoa,” Aaron said around a mouthful, “ease up on the Axe.”

  “It’ll lighten up. It’s fresh.”

  Not at those quantities. “Whatcha doing tonight?”

  Nicolas sighed and turned around. “Emily’s parents said I could come over and watch a movie. As long as we leave all the lights on. And we sit in separate chairs.”

  “That’s awful. You gonna be all right?” Aaron grinned at his brother’s scowl. He wanted to high-five Emily’s parents.

  “I wouldn’t mind touching my girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, they know that.”

  Nicolas snorted. “One of us in the family should be getting some action.”

  Aaron pushed off the counter. “One, Emily is your girlfriend and you shouldn’t talk about her that way. Two, how can I get action? I’m too weak because no one leaves me any fucking dinner.”

  “Sorry,” Nicolas grumbled. “None of use expected it to turn out that good.”

  “Next time, set some aside in a dish.” It really wasn’t a big deal, but if their parents weren’t going to teach them manners, it was up to Aaron.

  So many times he wanted to ask his parents if they’d given up after him. He recalled how strict they’d been about what he watched, what he ate, and saying “please” and “thank you.” Then he’d been ten and Jackson had come along, and they had let it all hang out. With Nicolas, it’d gotten even worse. Aaron blazed the trail; his brothers reaped the bennies.

  It was why he’d told them to move back in when his parents had flailed on their own. His dad couldn’t hold a job, despite getting up at dawn and farming all day since he could walk. Mom hadn’t fared much better. She’d held a job but was so miserable, everyone wished they’d fire her.

  Dad tinkered on the farm all day and pitched in when they needed an extra set of hands. He was anxiously awaiting Dillon’s baby being born in the spring so he could take over that share of the planting. This was supposed to be the guy’s golden years.

  “I’ll make sure Jackson portions some off for you next time.” Nicolas’s grin held a wicked glint. “He fancies himself the next Pioneer Woman, only he can’t cook.”

  “If he followed the recipe, he’d be fine.” But Aaron would eat whatever his brothers cooked because they needed the support. They needed the skills that’d carry them out of the house and into the real world.

  If only they’d tackle laundry with as much enthusiasm as cooking.

  He saw Nicolas off and went back to his room. There were still hours left before his call to Daisy. Scratching the back of his neck, he looked around for something to work on. It wasn’t in his nature to sit still and around his place, there was too much to do.

  Part of him burst to tell his cousins, even Lucas, about Daisy. He couldn’t yet. They’d see it as nothing more than a desperate attempt to get a wife. Short of showing them the emails that she appeared to be a real woman, he didn’t have much rebuttal.

  From his research, the most common route to marriage was to chat online, then he’d fly over and meet her in person. If the chemistry proved to be real, and Daisy and her family approved of him, then he’d fly home and apply for a K-1 visa to bring her over.

  He could probably get married in the Philippines, but then his family would miss out and he hadn’t waded through the legal speak to know if he could bring her home right away. Besides, that really did feel more mail-order bride. He wanted a relationship, one with depth. In reality, he couldn’t risk getting stuck in another country.

  The Walker Five was expanding and they needed everyone working. Sure, his dad could help, but he wasn’t up to working full time anymore. His brothers had lives and colleges to tour, or in Jackson’s case, would be moving away entirely. No. Aaron would have to be patient.

  That is, if he and Daisy worked as a couple.

  A load of laundry, a quick chat with his parents, and emptying the dishwasher brought him to the nightly news.

  He sat down to watch and figure out what he’d do from ten thirty to one a.m. The long day of cold air and hard work caught up to him. He relaxed into the chair, folded his arms, and tried to concentrate on what the newscaster was saying, but one long blink turned into another.

  Chapter Five

  “Where is he?” Dalisay finger combed her hair and draped it over one shoulder. She may have paid extra attention to brushing it. With her work outfit of tight white shirt and short black skirt, she only had so much to work with. She would’ve added makeup, but that hadn’t been in her budget and she felt it too duplicitous if she wore it every time she saw him and then he learned that she usually didn’t touch the stuff.

  Ina squinted over her shoulder. “It’s not going through?”

  “I don’t know.” Dalisay tried the call button again. “Is he even logged on?” Please answer. Her nerves had launched an attack all day, she could barely sleep. She was going to “meet” the man from the emails. The man who seemed so sincere, witty, relaxed, and just…fun.

  He wrote so descriptively about his family that she’d probably know who they were when—if—she met them. If. The thing between them was just starting.

  Or was it just ending?

  He didn’t answer.

  Ina clucked and nudged her out of the seat. Dalisay grudgingly moved, but couldn’t say no to Ina. Her mom slid in and punched every button, clicked everything on the screen. She knew less about computers than Dalisay. She’d bought one when she’d moved to Manila, but it’d died a year ago and they’d put the money toward the ever-increasing rent instead of a new one. It was more important they kept their phones.

  Ina sat back with a “Huh.”

  Dalisay checked her phone. Aaron was fifteen minutes late. “Should we just wait?”

  “Keep the window up, but you have other Americans to respond to before work.”

  “I can do that after work.”

  “Save the money and do it now. Take an Uber home.” Ina stuffed a few bills in her apron pocket. Dalisay wanted to argue, but Ina gave her a hard look.

  “Yes, Ina.”

  They switched places, and Dalisay took as much time as she could minimizing the Skype window. Where are you, Aaron?

  She pulled up her dating account. Three of the men her mom had been fielding had left new messages. One sent oily shivers through Dalisay’s body.

  She showed Ina the message. “I don’t like this one. ‘Your skin shines like a million stars lighting up the night sky. I dream of the tou
ch under my fingertips.’”

  Ina squinted at the message. “What? It’s romantic?”

  But with Aaron, it hadn’t been about looks. They were getting to know each other. Like how his horse was a gelding named Twitty that was good at something called “cutting” and it meant sorting cattle. He’d played football as a kid, even coached his brothers’ middle school teams.

  But the older man her mom had bumped did nothing but comment on her looks. She’d rather walk down the street and smile demurely at the catcallers instead of ignoring them than encourage any more messaging with the man.

  “What about the other two?” Ina asked.

  Good. Ina may not push the creepy American issue.

  “One says he retired early and loves to travel.” Dalisay wrinkled her nose.

  “What’s wrong with traveling?” Ina gestured to the computer. “He might not stand you up when you come to work an hour early to talk to him.”

  “Right.” But Dalisay had little interest in traveling. She’d been so excited to move to Manila. Home had equaled prison at times when her dad had been alive, only in the way an impetuous child resents rules of any kind.

  Manila had quickly revealed itself to be expensive, crowded, and dangerous. Starbucks, a novelty in her province, had quickly lost its appeal because now there was one on every corner and she couldn’t afford it half the time. Ina had gotten mugged within a month of living here, but by then it was too late to turn back. They’d forged ahead. Because while Metro Manila was a force, so was her mother.

  The idea of having a home, one where she didn’t worry about getting murdered on her way home or being smashed a little too close to the man next to her on the bus, was more appealing than seeing the world. She wasn’t as in love with Manila like a lot of her old friends from the province.

  Dalisay scanned the third American. He was also older than her dad would’ve been now, with three kids, all in their thirties. He included pictures of his home in the States but didn’t mention where he lived.

  The house was huge, but that wasn’t her concern, either. Some uneasiness sank in at his profile. He was not a healthy-looking man, and while appearances weren’t everything, it was hard to adjust to thinking of marrying a man as old as him when she’d been ready to settle with Benjie, a man her age with the agility and virility of someone in their early twenties.

  Aaron was twenty-nine, a full thirty years younger than American Three, and he ticked the attractiveness box for her. He was fit, with an active job, and wouldn’t leave her a widow after a decade, barring unforeseen accidents.

  “Ina, I don’t like any of them.”

  “The one you do like didn’t call.”

  “Something may have come up.”

  Ina dipped her head in acquiescence. “We don’t have time, Dali. Pick another to set up a time to chat with.”

  No time to wait on Aaron. No time to wonder if he was all right, or if anything she’d written had turned him away. Dalisay chose the traveler, her heart sinking with each word. Good-bye Aaron W.

  ***

  Log this shift as the longest one ever. It was like a dark cloud had followed Dalisay all night. She plastered a fake smile on so her customers wouldn’t complain. Finally, she was done. Ina was waiting up.

  Dalisay walked to the exit, but then glanced over her shoulder at a row of empty terminals. She had some of her own cash and wouldn’t be chewing into Ina’s money. Plus, the Uber would be a faster trip than the bus. Maybe.

  She trotted to a terminal and logged in.

  Aaron W.’s message titled I’M SO SORRY!! jumped out at her.

  With a soar of excitement, she pushed her chair back with a grin and pulled it up.

  “I can’t believe I missed our call. You have every apology I can make. I got in from working outside all day and watched the news and fell asleep. I’m officially becoming my dad, I guess.”

  She giggled. Her dad used to nod off on the rare moments he quit working.

  “I understand if you want to drop me, but just in case, I’m going to wait with my account open. Gimme a call. I’ll wait for an hour after you’re done with work for good measure.”

  She had fifty-five minutes left. Ina would be worried if she took too long.

  Was ten minutes too long?

  She dialed him.

  Her heart careened into her throat when he answered.

  “Hi, Daisy.”

  Oh. Ohhh. Aaron’s voice was deep and pleasing, rumbling over her nerves like she’d never experienced. A white wall was behind him and his eyes really were as blue as his picture, his smile hesitant, and his hair…messy. Had he run his hands through it all night worrying about standing her up?

  Would that win points with Ina?

  “Hello, Aaron.” Her smile froze. She hadn’t planned on talking to him. What’d she look like? In the little view window, she subtly straightened her long hair over one shoulder. Good thing it was so thick and heavy, or it’d be standing on end like his, only not nearly as adorable.

  His expression sobered. “I’m really sorry. Like, really, really sorry. I’ve been up since two in the morning when I woke up in the recliner.”

  “The time difference is difficult.” Couldn’t she come up with anything better? She spoke slower than normal. Knowing English well was one thing, but trying to be coherent when her nerves clambered all over her body was another.

  His grin was easy, calming her nerves. “Yes, it is. But look at us, we made it happen. You, actually. How was work?”

  Her brows rose at his thoughtfulness. Her ex had never asked how her day went. In his eyes, she’d dropped out of nursing school and was now a waitress, and that certainly hadn’t interested him. “Good. It was a little slower because the students are testing and aren’t in using the internet.” Her smile wavered. This was nothing like emailing back and forth. This was real. A real man was on the other end. A real man she had to try to marry.

  Because American One, Two, and Three couldn’t be options. They just couldn’t. She felt zero attraction to them, and while her and her mom’s situation was dire, they had time. They had to make time. This was Dalisay’s life, too.

  “Work was good.”

  He cocked his head. “Good?”

  “Yes.” She shrunk in on herself. He was just so…so… More. What would he be like in person?

  His gaze left the screen. “Let me turn the volume up. I can’t hear you.”

  Probably because she wasn’t talking that loud. She never talked loud. Not even when explaining why a mistress was unacceptable.

  “I’m sorry. I will speak up. Can you understand me?”

  He ducked his head. “Yes. Do you speak, uh, English? Well, I mean obviously you do.” He chuckled and tugged a hand through his hair. “I mean all the time.”

  Was he nervous?

  Because she was about to vomit on the floor. Then she’d be really late getting home and wouldn’t get paid for cleaning it up.

  “Not really. Do you understand me?”

  “Oh, you’re perfectly clear. I never learned a second language.”

  She shrugged and smiled because what else did she do? This wasn’t quite a date, but it was more intimate than an interview. “I learned it growing up and I watch American television. Many of my university classes were in English.”

  A knock came from his end. His smile dropped, and he scowled to something beyond the camera. “I’m busy,” he called. He glanced back. “Sorry. They’re not used to me being late for work, but I had to make sure I was around in case you gave me a second chance.”

  “It’s no problem.” Not anymore. But to her mother it was. “Should we talk again another day? I should get home.”

  She refused to bargain with herself on eking more time out of this conversation. Her mom was probably worrying.

  “Of course. Gosh, isn’t it late there?”

  “Yes.” There was no reason to elaborate about how late it was. There were Uber drivers everywhere, so she would
n’t have to wait long once she scheduled one. The indulgence of the car ride could be offset by best utilizing the extra time it gave her.

  “I’m sorry. Yes, you’d better get home. Tomorrow? Today? Uh, when we had planned but one day later?” He looked so hopeful. And the warm glow he created when he acted worried about her burned hotter the longer they talked.

  “Yes. I’ll call you again since I’m at the café.”

  “Whatever works best for you. Good night, Daisy. And thanks for calling back.” His smile was slightly lopsided. Could that have made him any more good-looking?

  “Good night, Aaron.” She clicked off. Good night? Ugh. It was daytime for him. Good way to end like an idiot.

  She checked the time and sprinted out the door. The short conversation had been worth being late over.

  ***

  Aaron set his computer aside. His grin refused to fade.

  Daisy was real. As a person and not a fake profile, and genuine. No one could fake that much nervousness.

  She’d been sweet. Timid. But she’d called him, so she didn’t let fear stop her. Or was he putting his own hopes into her actions? A good con artist would know how to play him.

  Someone rapped on his door again.

  “Fucker, open up,” Cash yelled from the other side.

  Aaron couldn’t even be irritated. The tiny beauty on the other end of the computer, on the other end of the world, lit up his entire day.

  When he’d woken up last night, he’d panicked when he saw the time. Skype had been as quiet as his house. She’d given up on him and had started her shift.

  He managed to keep his apology message short and limited it to one when he wanted to send an apology every five minutes. Staying up the rest of the night, he’d sent a message to his cousins that he had to stick close to home and he’d shut his phone off.