Mail Order Farmer

by Marie Johnston

  It’s not what women really want.

  Hope had bloomed eternal since Aaron had gone on his first date. But now he was twenty-nine. Was he destined to be Uncle Aaron, the bachelor uncle who dressed funny and cracked stupid jokes everyone rolled their eyes at?

  Well, he didn’t crack jokes, so there was that.

  Lucas snoozed, but Aaron wasn’t comfortable leaving. He puttered around the house, snagging laundry and tossing it into a pile for washing. No matter how good a friend Lucas was, Aaron wasn’t sniff testing the man’s laundry.

  In the kitchen, he stacked dishes and emptied the dishwasher. Ten minutes had passed. With a heavy sigh, he filled the dishwasher, started it, and hand washed the rest. The floor needed a good sweep, and it got it.

  Another glance at his friend. Hell, he’d been around Lucas much more drunk than this. It was probably all right to go. He slid off the man’s work boots and covered him with a blanket before going back out to his truck.

  The cab was still warm, and Aaron sat behind the wheel staring at the dark yard. His house wasn’t much different than the one in front of him. His dad was the oldest and had built their house before the other uncles. It was a 1980s sprawling ranch with two bedrooms and an office upstairs and three downstairs bedrooms with a moderately sized family room.

  Growing up, it’d been enough room for his parents, Aaron, and his brothers. These days, it could feel claustrophobic with his brothers fighting the way teenage boys do and his parents carrying on the way they did.

  What a pleasant thought. At least everyone might be asleep by the time he got back. One of the few moments he got to himself.

  He drove home. The streets were quiet and once he left city limits, he didn’t come across another car. Heading down the road to his house, he passed the first of his cousins’ places. Cash’s house was on his right, the trees failing to conceal the barns and corrals. Dillon was on the left, his trees fully enclosing his property, only the soft glow of a yard light lifted over the tops.

  Brock’s was the next on his left. The trees blocked his house, but Aaron knew there’d be no lights on other than the yard and outside house light. Brock hit his bedtime like clockwork, especially now that he had Josie and didn’t have to make excuses for why it was so important to him to get to bed after the nightly news.

  He reached the dead-end that his house was on. To the right would be Travis’s place where he was probably snuggled in bed next to Kami after reading the latest issue of The Progressive Farmer.

  And there was his property. Half the lights were on even though his family were probably each in their bedrooms. His brothers’ beater trucks sat askance in the driveway, blocking the garage where his mom kept her car. Aaron idled to the big rectangular shop a hundred yards from his house and parked in front of it. He killed the engine and crossed to his home, his boots crunching on the gravel the only sound in the night.

  The warm glow of alcohol had faded long before driving Lucas home. He shivered and shoved his hands into his pockets. Lifting his gaze to the sky, he slowed to take in the myriad of stars above him. The Big Dipper, his favorite, dominated with its three handle stars the brightest in the sky. Nights like this, he could tolerate stargazing. In another month, especially when January descended, the long walk across the yard from the only decent place to park his truck would be too frigid to linger long, but that was when the stars were the most brilliant.

  Letting himself into the house, he eased the screen door shut. Quietly, he toed off his boots and shut off lights as he made his way to the master bedroom at the end of the house. His parents hadn’t insisted on getting their original room back. The arrangement was supposed to only have been for a few months, but three years later…

  They stayed downstairs in his old bedroom and his brothers had moved into the other two bedrooms down there.

  No one bothered Aaron and there was no noise coming from anywhere in the house. On the way, he stepped into the tiny office and grabbed his laptop from the cluttered desk. Ledgers threatened to spill to the floor, but he shoved them back with the edge of the computer and backed out.

  A subdued energy swirled inside his gut. Changing into a T-shirt and shorts, he glanced at the computer. He should go to bed.

  Sliding under the covers, he rolled them down and pulled the laptop close. It fired right up because he’d used it to balance accounts for the fall season before Lucas had called.

  Without thinking too hard, he typed “Tinder” into the search bar. A few minutes of searching showed it wasn’t what he was looking for. Women from places like L.A., Orlando, or hell, even Minneapolis in his home state of Minnesota weren’t likely to prefer life in rural solitude. Would he invest all that time in the “getting to know” stage only to find out they weren’t in it for more than a good time?

  What about long-term? A real relationship?

  He shoved his hands through his hair.

  What the hell was he thinking? Dating sites?

  But didn’t old man Farley marry a lady he…uh, ordered? Aaron tried to remember the gossip. It’d been several years, but yes, the woman had been from Russia.

  Weren’t they still married?

  But were they happy? Mr. Farley might be, but was she?

  No, this was stupid. Aaron shut the lid of the computer and stared at the wall. Shelves in the corner held various hats that he wore. The closet door was half open and his pants were spilling out. He’d have to ask his parents to help him catch up on laundry.

  He was almost thirty and he’d have to ask his parents, who still lived with him, to help with laundry.

  What lady was going to take the time to get to know him?

  The screen was back up and lit. For an hour, he cruised various online dating sites, bypassing the uber sexy photos. He’d linger over the attractive headshots and wonder if the woman existed or if either the photo or information was fake.

  This was pointless. If he could spark an online relationship, who was going to move to the middle of the country, to the middle of nowhere?

  Where had Farley’s bride been from?

  Was she happy? Were they happy?

  He punched in “mail order” and his hand stayed over the “b” for bride. God, he couldn’t do it.

  The lid was half closed again, when he paused. The quiet house with all the lights on and no place to park. Trina saying he came with more baggage than she did. Lucas passed out and brokenhearted in his empty home.

  He flipped it open and entered “international brides.” What pulled up sank his stomach faster than a hunk of lead in a pool. He couldn’t, just couldn’t, do mail order. A man had his pride, and yes, he was lonely and scared to be a bachelor for life, but rather that than a miserable woman who felt she had no other options.

  He deleted the search and entered “international dating.” A page full of dating sites from a mix of countries popped up.

  What would it hurt just to take a look?

  Chapter Two

  Dalisay Calamba Cortez skirted into her home and dragged in a deep breath. Her heart was pounding, and she found little comfort in the familiar noise of the street filtering into the apartment she shared with her mother. Navigating the streets of Manila at midnight was a different beast than in the middle of the day. She’d barely evaded a group of swaggering young men that spelled nothing but trouble for a lone woman.

  “Dali, is that you?”

  “It’s me, Ina. I’m home.” She set the bag that held her phone and wallet on the rickety end table by the door and threw the deadbolt.

  The slithery sensation that plagued her on every walk home danced along her spine. She shivered. The small lamp flickering on the end table was as good as a lighthouse, signaling that there may be danger in the area, but there was also a shore offering safety.

  Her mom came out, her robe tucked tight around her petite body and her straight black hair tucked into a bun. Dalisay had hit five feet and maxed out, but that was still a few inches taller than her mom.
Despite her height, Mari Cortez, her dear Ina, had the swagger of a six-foot-tall man.

  Ina blinked into the kitchen light. “You shouldn’t be working so late.”

  Dalisay agreed. “I was promised a raise if I took the evening shift manager position.” She should’ve worked the overnight shift. It’d be safer treading home in the morning with the early work traffic.

  Ina clicked her tongue, her expression grim. “If your father found out you were on the streets by yourself close to midnight…”

  Sadness tugged at Dalisay’s heart. Four years since his work accident on the bumpy province roads and the pain was finally lessening, or she was just used to it. Yes, he would’ve been indignant that she was putting herself at risk.

  But he was gone, and so was his income stream. Their lower middle-class standard was dropping. She and Ina would have to move out of this apartment, which was in a fairly decent part of the city. An outcome she didn’t desire, and she suspected her mother wanted to stay in Manila as much as she did.

  “It’s more money.” Dalisay cast a longing look toward her room, exhausted from a long shift. Her job at the internet café was as enjoyable as it could be. Customers were more concerned with what was on their screen than in her. Her coworkers were pleasing enough, although some nights were more difficult than others to listen to their optimistic outlooks of the future. But it was a decent job, since she couldn’t attend university as planned after her dad’s passing.

  “Money isn’t everything. Your safety is more important.”

  “I know, Ina.” Dalisay’s words rang hollow. But unless Ina planned to remarry—and since Dalisay had heard her muttering as if her father were in the room, she wasn’t—or Dalisay said her vows soon, their options were few.

  She got hit on a lot at work. Having worked at the café since her dad’s death four years ago, she knew some of the regulars. Knew they were married or seeing someone. Knew that as they propositioned her, checking out her legs in her short black skirt, peeking through her transparent white blouse for a glimpse of cleavage, or more. It came with the job. Unfortunately, no serious romantic prospects came with the position.

  She’d almost walked down the aisle two years ago when she was twenty-one. Until her cheating fiancé had showed his true colors.

  I’ll pay her as a mistress. You won’t even know she’s around.

  Uh-huh. The disgusting thought of sharing her man made her a little rage-y. She might be from the province, but she still expected her spouse to be monogamous. She’d flown out of primary school, fleeing an isolated life under her loving father’s gentle but firm rule, and hit Manila exactly like every other girl her age moving to the encompassing city from the rural areas of the Philippines.

  The freedom had been exhilarating, though the smog had been stifling, the traffic loud, and it took a solid year to fall asleep to the constant horn honking resonating from the streets. Her father had worried, but she’d studied hard and his pride at her grades fueled his glow. Then he was gone.

  Her mother’s family had swooped in to help, urged Dalisay to come back home as they cared for Ina in her grief. Her uncle, Peejong, had seamlessly filled the authority role her father had left.

  Dalisay’s refusals had sounded weak compared to Peejong’s ill-disguised pleas to return home and help her mother. He worried about her in the city, was concerned about their finances, but by then Dalisay had met her ex.

  Hindsight meant it was now clear how much she’d rushed things with her ex in an effort to stay at university. The warning signs that he couldn’t commit to, well, anything, had run rampant and she’d deliberately ignored them, convincing herself it was the grief and stress inciting her paranoia.

  She’d steeled herself to stand up to her mother during their next phone call, when Ina had packed a bag, announced she couldn’t be haunted by her husband’s death, and moved to Manila to live with Dalisay.

  The appearance of Ina had been as sudden as the loss her father, but not as disruptive. Apparently, Dalisay wasn’t the only female in her family looking for what else life had to offer.

  Ina arriving loaded with two suitcases, and her smile only highlighted how much Dalisay had missed her family. That didn’t mean she wanted to move back to the province, though. Maybe someday, but not while she was young and single.

  Nights like tonight when Dalisay could come home to a comforting face after a harrowing commute made her ponder how long she would’ve held out against Peejong without Ina.

  “Good night.” Dalisay kissed the top of Ina’s head and headed to her room.

  “Peejong called tonight.” Ina’s grave tone stopped Dalisay in her tracks.

  Dalisay turned around. “Is everything okay?”

  Ina rubbed her eyes. “He wants us both to move back.”

  A beat of homesickness hit her. She missed her extended family and their farm in the middle of lush greenery. The rise of mountains, the clear air, and silent nights beckoned her, but where she was from, there was also a lack of jobs, fewer professional opportunities, and more family who thought they had a say in her future. Growing up amid all her kin provided a grounding experience, something she both missed and worked hard not to go back to. After nearly five years in the city on her own, it was also something she couldn’t readily go back to. Not without an anchor for herself so she didn’t get swept along with what others thought was best.

  Ina folded her arms, her expression troubled. “He said he talked to Michael today. You remember their neighbor boy a couple of years older than you?”

  Dalisay pursed her lips, knowing exactly where this was going.

  “Peejong gushed about Michael’s accomplishments. He’s a mechanic; owns his own garage in Solano.” Ina shot her a pointed look. “And he’s single.”

  “Did Peejong find all that out, or was it Sally?” If Peejong was a gale force wind, her aunt Sally was a hurricane. Except hurricanes were chaotic, leaving behind devastation. Aunt Sally was the steady wind that wore away centuries of granite, smoothing the surface to its preferences.

  Peejong was Ina’s older brother. Therefore, Sally assumed responsibility for all his younger siblings. Ina never let on how much it bothered her, but her moving in was enough evidence.

  Ina didn’t reply, but as was the way with her mother, what she didn’t say was filled to the brim with information.

  Dalisay shook her head. “And I suppose Michael still lives around Solano?” He’d been a nice enough young man, but there’d been zero chemistry between them, and she didn’t want an empty marriage. Or a relationship strongly influenced by outside sources.

  She wanted a union where she and her husband formed a strong wall against the outside world.

  Ina didn’t say anything. The lamplight cast shadows across half of her face, deepening the worry lines at the corner of her eyes. Honks and bleats from Jeepneys filtered in through the thin glass windows. The cloying heat didn’t decrease much at night, but Ina had shut off the tiny air conditioning unit.

  “The money is running out, Dali. In less than a year, we either move to the slums, or back to the province.”

  The slums. Where shanties couldn’t keep out typhoon rain and winds and flooding was a constant problem. They could lose their home to a gust of wind and their belongings to anyone with more muscle than them. A giant loss of physical and mental security.

  And if she moved back, she’d be beholden to Peejong and Sally and probably lonely enough to marry Nice Enough Michael. Ina would feel relegated to a burden, and her pride wouldn’t withstand that.

  Then Sally would start on about how babies made the solitude easier. She had slipped in a few comments here and there when Dalisay had been engaged.

  Yes, Dalisay wanted kids. Not necessarily with Michael. And what if Michael was seeing someone, or lacked as much interest as she did?

  She’d lost her dad. She’d lost her dream of becoming a nurse. Now both she and Ina were facing the loss of their independence. Of something as simple
as sleeping in separate rooms because the house at the farm wasn’t large enough for all of them. “The internet.”

  Dalisay’s mouth snapped shut. Was she really going to suggest what came to mind?

  No. Ina would never go for it.

  “Yes?” Ina stared at her, as if sensing Dalisay might be forming a plan.

  They couldn’t afford the internet on their income, but it was a bonus of working at the internet café. She had access off hours, and Ina got a discount for her own job hunt when she wasn’t selling at the market. It was how she could carry out the crazy idea that was forming.

  “I can find a husband on the internet. An American. I’ll go there where you won’t have to worry about getting through the city at night.”

  “But… Find a man online?” Ina shook her head. “Is that what you want?”

  Dalisay had one friend in university who’d ran off with an expat. She lived in a village Dalisay couldn’t afford to visit. How was she doing? The man had been considerably older, but that didn’t make as much a difference in how he’d treated her friend. The last time Dalisay talked to her, she’d been happy, disgustingly so because Dalisay had just found out her ex had another girlfriend—but that had been before her broken-off wedding.

  But what about leaving Ina? “What I don’t want is to work for Peejong and Sally the rest of my life. And you’d be free to find the housekeeping job you talked about.”

  Ina hadn’t applied for any live-in housekeeping jobs because Dalisay couldn’t make the rent without her.

  Ina glanced away. She was seriously considering it. Dalisay worried her lower lip. Find an American husband? But Ina would be free to find a job that’d give her a roof over her head, and Dalisay would look for a partner she could fall in love with someday.

  She continued making her case. “Maybe I could go somewhere I could finish my degree.” Her heart jumped at the thought of getting her dream back, of being able to finally finish nursing school.