Chapter Four
Dalisay looked around. It wasn’t unusual for workers to jump on after shifts. No one was paying attention to her. At this time of night, there were only a few young men and women at the computer terminals. She logged onto the dating site and stared at the number of men who’d bumped her. Many of them were older. She didn’t rule them out, but they didn’t interest her. She sifted through men with sunglasses, men with graying hair, men with no hair, and more until a familiar photo stopped her.
Yes. He had bumped back.
She chewed on her lower lip. A. W. was the screen name he went by. What did the A stand for? She’d been searching for a month. Her mother had been searching for a month. Ina gravitated to the older crowd, and when Dalisay protested Ina had insisted that they were likely more financially stable and had less stringent ideas of a relationship.
Ina hadn’t found A. W., though. The distinct blue of his eyes had stopped Dalisay mid scroll. He lived in Minnesota, and when Dalisay had researched the state, she’d found the scenery was stunning. Green, much like the province, but not as lush and with no mountains. And Minnesota had snow.
It wasn’t until she landed on A. W.’s profile that the idea of culture shock had set in. This was the first profile that had made her stop to think about uprooting her life. She’d be removed from everything she knew, even the weather. She’d be alone, except for a new stranger she was supposed to marry. Moving to Manila had overturned her life. Going from a quiet, calm life with only the necessities, to the hustle and bustle and excess of city life. How hard would it be to adjust to another country?
Those were all worries for a different day. She opened A. W.’s message.
“Thanks for the bump, Daisy. My name’s Aaron if you want to talk some more.”
That was it. Yes, she wanted to talk more. Her fingers shook over the keyboard. This was the most serious she’d gotten about the whole idea. And that was all it had seemed to be as she and Ina researched and set up accounts and screened prospective husbands. Their thoughts had been steeped in thoroughness and protection. Neither she, nor her mother, wanted to fall for the suave lines of a predator.
She inhaled and let it out slowly. Just replying didn’t mean she had to marry him. There were still a lot more steps between returning his greeting and meeting him.
Her gaze landed on his profile photo. The sun blazed behind him, his easy grin making his blue eyes twinkle. Those eyes were mesmerizing with their slight squint. What season was this taken in?
She distracted herself and searched what season late October would be in Minnesota.
Almost winter. She shuddered. How warm did their summers get?
Back on his profile, her gaze swept over his coppery hair and his broad shoulders.
He appealed to her, there was no denying it. But was this what A. W.—Aaron—even looked like?
She typed a reply before she could talk herself out of it. The money in savings was draining quickly.
The reminder spurred her response. She didn’t have much to tell about herself. Reading through other women’s profiles hadn’t made sense: I like sunsets, poems, and romantic walks.
Please. The sunset was hard to see through the pollution plaguing Manila. She’d rather help her mom roll lumpia than read a poem, and her idea of a romantic walk was having someone with her that would scare off would-be abductors.
She stuck with the food subject in her reply. Her father used to gush about how her mom’s adobo had won his heart. Dalisay had learned how to prepare all the basics, and she and her mother often competed to make the hottest salsa and laughed over how much their fingers burned after chopping the peppers.
A cloud of sadness stalled her fingers. If this Aaron was a decent guy, she’d be moving. Not soon, but eventually, and Ina would stay behind.
Dalisay rubbed her chest. But Ina would be taken care of. A good job, with a roof over her head, and Dalisay would make sure to send money home.
A hot tear rolled down her cheek as she finished up her message. She’d wait to hear more from him before she asked to chat over the internet. Ina was going to buy a webcam to Skype in case they couldn’t reserve the computers with the cams, or if they weren’t working. Dalisay hated that they had to waste money on that, but her mother had told her to consider it an investment.
She proofread her message. How inane. She liked her mom’s cooking, cooked herself, didn’t finish university, and yep, she’d like to talk more.
She hit send.
Dalisay sniffled. Her discounted time was running out. Ina insisted she use some of her earnings to stay in the café until morning. It blew all of the manager raise she’d gotten, but the relief was almost worth it. If she kept walking home at night, she’d either end up in a nightmare or dead.
She should check the other profiles and initiate conversations, but she didn’t. The rest of her late night/early morning was spent combing Minnesota facts. She put “Aaron W Minnesota” into the search but nothing useful came out. He might be buried in the results, but it’d only add to her torture of who he was.
Fighting off her eyelid droop was growing impossible when the sky started to lighten. She logged off, fatigue weighing on her like she’d been running and filling orders all through the night. Those long hours might’ve been a waste of money, but an oddly optimistic sensation followed her home.
She darted through the streets as traffic steadily increased by the minute.
When she came through the door of her apartment, Ina stood, slicing peppers at the counter. “What’d you find?” she asked without missing a beat in her food prep. “I’m making an omelet. Sit and fill me in.”
The muscle-numbing weariness Dalisay had been battling all night dulled to a constant battle of keeping her eyes open. She was home with Ina. Two more nights and she’d have a day off.
“I made contact. Tentative.”
Her mom nodded, her mouth turned down in concentration. “With how many men?”
“One. There were others, but I wasn’t drawn to them.”
Ina glanced up, one brow quirked.
Dalisay shrugged, the sense of being interrogated daunting. Ina won that round every time. “This man’s name is Aaron and he’s younger. Closer to my age.”
“Don’t trust him.”
“I don’t either, Ina. Not yet.” Something about him, though… No, she had to be careful.
“I tell you, the older ones are financially stable. They have fewer expectations beyond a happy wife, happy life.”
“I don’t want to write off this guy until I know more.”
“Dali, we’re running out of time. The older guys are safer.”
“But the traffickers know that and maybe those profiles are fake.”
Ina paused mid-chop. She nodded and continued dicing the tomato. “You still need to try. Did you bump any of them back?”
Dalisay worried her lower lip. All those hours spent on a state and not a man. “I was looking up Minnesota. It’s where Aaron’s from.”
Ina rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “Dali.” She chopped some more, her mouth in a flat line. Dalisay squirmed in her seat. “Fine. What’d you find about Minnesota? Where is it?”
She couldn’t stop her grin. Life in the city had relaxed Ina in many ways. Like she could only take so much stress and had to pick and choose where to put her worries.
Dalisay unloaded all of her Minnesota knowledge as she jumped in to prepare the rice to go with the omelet. Her mother nodded but didn’t interrupt.
When Dalisay was done, breakfast was ready. They sat to eat at their small square table. Ina led the prayer and they ate. Moments like this brought back fond memories of attending mass as a family. Since Ina had left Solano, she hadn’t found a new church. Another strike against her in Sally’s eyes.
The last bite was gone when Dalisay’s eyelids refused to stay up any longer. She had to be up soon for her shift. “Ina, I must sleep.”
“Go. I’ll clean up. But, Dali, I will go with tomorrow to see this Aaron, and after work you will bump more of those older men.”
“Yes, Ina.”
The few hours of sleep went by too quickly and she was up again and heading back to work. Ina joined her on the bus ride to the café, her tote bag clutched close to her body. In the café, Dalisay trotted back to the kitchen while her mother got settled at a terminal.
Dalisay dropped a tea next to her mother. Ina glanced up in surprise.
“It’s on me,” Dalisay said. The woman had slept less than she had.
“He’s a farmer,” Ina said in a whisper.
Dalisay’s gaze switched to the screen. Ina had logged in already and had read through the messages. Dalisay’s heart jumped at the sight of his smile. Did he have a sense of humor?
A long message was laid out under his photo.
She sucked in a breath and looked around. “Is that from him?” Leaning down, she skimmed his message.
He was a farmer who worked with his family. The foods he grew were listed, along with the menagerie of animals on his farm. Sunflowers, wheat, soybeans, cattle, and sheep.
“Horses?” she squeaked. Oops. She straightened and looked around. New customers were coming in. She’d have to wait to linger over the information he gave.
“He sounds promising, but Dali. A farmer.”
“He’s not Peejong,” Dalisay whispered and went back to work.
She didn’t want to get her hopes up, had to stay aware of the dangers, but if it helped her get through a long shift on a few hours of sleep, then she would let the fantasies flow. Because as she daydreamed about an idyllic life with a handsome farmer, Ina was bumping older men.
***
Aaron unsaddled Twitty, the bay stomping his hooves. Twitty was the best cutting horse he’d ever had for cattle, but he could be stubborn and ornery, like everyone else in Aaron’s life. Today, they’d only had to move cattle to the winter pasture, but Twitty had exerted what control he could to cut cattle off from the entrance. The horse wanted out of the elements and back in his pasture. Aaron did, too, but Twitty’s behavior didn’t speed up the process.
The wind sliced across his face. His complexion was probably as ruddy as his hair after being exposed to the cold all day.
Lucas had called to go out, but Aaron had passed. Drinking wasn’t doing Lucas any good and Aaron didn’t want to enable him. That was as good of an excuse as any to trade messages with Daisy for the last week. She’d asked to Skype. To chat at a good time for her, he would have to be camera ready by one in the morning. He’d asked about phone calls or apps, but she was limited with her phone’s capabilities.
With the other girl, Victoria, she’d Skyped whenever was good for him, but Daisy said she worked in the evenings. He believed her.
Her sweet emails were eye opening. Her words had an innocent but mature quality. No guile had come through the screen, but perhaps he’d get a different sense when they spoke. She’d been honest about a previous engagement that had fallen through due to infidelity. He wished he could be as honest, but “Hey, my parents and two brothers live with me” never made it through. Five times he’d typed it, and five times it’d been deleted.
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.