Mail Order Soulmate

by Jean Oram

  “Let me,” he said gently, carefully.

  She didn’t release the bag, but instead offered him Xavier. Throughout their travels, her son had always seemed to confirm her gut feelings by crying around people she was unsure about, and cooing for those she felt safe with. “Can you carry him? My arms are tired.”

  Zach expertly scooped up the infant, supporting Xavier’s neck as his entire expression and being softened, his focus on the boy in his arms.

  “I should have picked you up from the airport,” he said, turning toward the house.

  Xavier was dwarfed by the man’s size, but had settled instantly, his round eyes fixed on Zach’s face.

  Despite being wired from the long journey and from several months spent in hiding, Catherine could feel her stress drop a notch, just enough that she no longer felt she was about to crack.

  Zach talked softly to Xavier as he climbed the several steps up onto the wide wooden porch of the two-story home. The house was a pale blue, with vines of some sort climbing up a trellis on either side of the door. Inside, the place was simply decorated, but cheery. It certainly couldn’t be considered drab, with the surprising burgundy chesterfield with lovely floral throw cushions, plus a bright cut-flower bouquet on the coffee table.

  Not what she’d expected, but she liked it.

  “And what’s your name?” Zach was saying to Xavier, his voice a soft rumble, her son still entranced. It looked as though Zach was passing the baby test, as the boy was cooing.

  “It’s Xavier,” she said.

  “I’m Zach,” he said to the baby. “Our names are at the end of the alphabet, aren’t they?” He was heading upstairs and Catherine’s heart beat faster.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, fear lacing her words despite her wish to keep it hidden. She’d done fine keeping herself safe after Simon’s fatal accident. Fine, that was, until their son had been born, making everything feel like a threat to his life. Since then, she’d felt watched and tracked every moment of the day.

  That was when she’d realized that after seven months of doing fine, she could no longer do it on her own. That’s when she’d started considering Zach’s profile on Email Brides and Grooms, his name given to her months before by Leo Barrellies, one of the bartenders at the nightclub where she’d worked back in London.

  “I thought you’d want to change him on my bed,” Zach said. But he promptly turned and descended again. “Maybe you’d prefer the couch?”

  She nodded, grateful for his quick change in plans, for being aware that he’d pushed things too far and fast with her, a stranger. He didn’t apologize, though, simply laid the child out on the couch so she could tend to him.

  She kept her head down as she changed Xavier, handing the wet diaper to Zach, who appeared at the right moment for the handoff. He disposed of the diaper and returned almost immediately.

  With Xavier taken care of, she sat with him in her arms, inhaling the scent of his baby shampoo.

  Now what? She was across the ocean from home, sitting in the living room of a stranger. Of her husband.

  Meeting Zach’s steady gaze, she wondered what exactly had made her feel as though this was the safest alternative for herself and her son. But most of all, why she wasn’t doubting her choice.

  While Catherine nursed her baby on the couch after the diaper change, Zach slipped out the sliding glass door off the kitchen, stepped silently across the deck and out into the frozen yard. He held his phone to his ear, waiting for his friend to answer.

  “Come on, Logan. Pick up, pick up,” he muttered under his breath, tugging the zipper of his jacket a bit higher.

  “Logan here. What’s up?”

  “There’s a woman at my door saying she’s my wife.”

  There was a telling pause. But what it was supposed to tell him, he wasn’t sure. Did his friend think he’d finally cracked? Did he think this was a joke, or was he trying to figure out how Zach had evidently married someone he obviously didn’t know and had never met?

  How did you marry someone over the internet?

  Logan let out a snort of laughter before controlling it and replying soberly, his Australian accent especially thick, “Is she of the blow-up variety?”

  “Not funny.” Zach’s voice was tighter than his late grandmother’s embroidery stitches.

  “Right. So you had a few too many and married someone off those mail-order-bride sites you keep teasing Ginger about?”

  Even after Zach caught the bouquet at a mutual friend’s wedding, Ginger still hadn’t been able to find him someone, after nearly a year of searching. Now it looked as if all Zach had needed was to go online and click “I do.”

  “That appears to be the story,” he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. Zach was embarrassed that he’d lost control of himself, impacting the lives of others in the process, and didn’t even recall doing so. A good agent didn’t do that.

  He was no longer an agent.

  He supposed that was probably for the best, wasn’t it?

  “So are you going to keep her?” Logan asked.

  “She’s got a baby.” And she hadn’t told him she was coming—or had she? And Zach, having forgotten everything, hadn’t logged in to receive her message, and as a result was a no-show, forcing her to take a long and expensive cab ride to Blueberry Springs?

  He was a horrible human being.

  “So?” Logan replied. “You like kids, don’t you? Instant family.”

  “She looks…scared.”

  “Try talking to her.”

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  “She took a cab from the airport with nothing but a stroller, a diaper bag and a backpack.” Something wasn’t right with the scenario, and it wasn’t just that a seemingly sane woman believed it was appropriate in this day and age to marry someone you didn’t know. As well as bring your infant son along for the ride.

  But that glint of fear that had sliced through Catherine’s steady gaze… What was that about? She hid it well, but he was trained to catch things like that. He didn’t believe the fear was simply about him or the situation.

  It was something else.

  “You forgot to pick her up?” Logan asked, disbelief lacing his voice, as well as a measure of disappointment.

  “I didn’t know she was coming.”

  Logan’s tone turned thoughtful, telling Zach his pal was scooting into brainstorming mode. “Escaping an abusive partner maybe?”

  The idea made Zach’s insides seize and smoke come out his ears.

  “Hiding from the law?” Logan offered. “I can run a background check on her. What did you say her name was?”

  “We’re not agents anymore.” Zach pinched the bridge of his nose again, stomping down a circle of snow with his boots, wishing they could indeed run a check and get the full story on the woman in his living room. “We aren’t authorized to dig into people’s lives. Especially without a valid reason.” He straightened his shoulders, pulling in a lungful of cold air. “And anyway, I’m starting this whole new-leaf thing where I try and act like a civilian and not assume the worst in everyone.”

  “So she’s cute,” Logan said.

  Zach paused, recalibrating swiftly. Cute? He’d been trying to avoid sizing her up, as she was a single mom and therefore not fair game. She belonged to someone.

  Him, apparently.

  She wasn’t single. And neither was he. Shouldn’t he have a document in his inbox saying he was married or something? He was obviously worse off than he’d thought.

  But was this woman fair game?

  He didn’t quite think so.

  Logan was waiting for a reply about Catherine’s looks.

  “Yeah, she’s cute,” Zach said. “Great curves. Blonde.” He could feel some of the tension that had been coiling inside him release a little.

  Logan let out a chuckle. “Natural blonde?”

  “Nope.”

  “Your type then?”

  Zach didn’t
reply, but felt the hint of a smile.

  “Does it seem like her head’s on straight?” Logan asked.

  The way she’d slowly sized him up, along with her quick, sweeping glances, told him she wasn’t naive or oblivious to the crazy severity of this unorthodox situation. She’d tested him when she’d passed her child off to him, using the infant like radar, a detector that sought out the good and bad in the world.

  “She’s resourceful,” he said, still forming a full judgment of her.

  “So she’s smart,” Logan confirmed.

  “Yeah.” A smart woman doing something stupid. Definitely a story there.

  Then again, flip the mirror on him. He’d married her, hadn’t he? Definitely a story here, too. Maybe he shouldn’t think about this too long and hard.

  “Think she’s going to want to know everything about you?” Logan asked quietly.

  An agent’s worst fear. The request to reveal deeply personal, and sometimes classified, information as a form of intimacy. The one thing none of them could deliver. With that wall between them and their spouses, most agents didn’t stay married long. At least not the active ones.

  “My gut says she doesn’t want to tell me about her life.”

  “Sounds like a perfect match. The two of you can play don’t-ask-don’t-tell when it comes to your pasts. I vote you keep her around and see if the relationship pans out.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “We all have to start somewhere. Ginger and I started our relationship based on a lie and look where it’s taken us.”

  Good places.

  “So…I keep her and see where it goes?” Zach shook his head and frowned. It felt like he was talking about a stray, which in a way, maybe she was. If she was smart, resourceful and willing to marry a stranger, then something was going on in her life. And chances were she needed shelter, protection.

  And that was his calling card.

  No, no. He was putting too much into it.

  He didn’t have a calling card any longer, unless it was for installing home security systems that beeped every time the front door opened.

  It was possible she’d simply found single motherhood too overwhelming. Her presence didn’t have to mean something big and dark. A hundred years ago this kind of marriage situation was commonplace, and arranged marriages tended to do well because there weren’t unrealistic romantic expectations.

  And that was all kinds of perfect for a man like him.

  Although, come to think of it, maybe the two of them weren’t true strangers. They must have had conversations online before marrying. All he had to do was find the site, log in and see what they’d chatted about.

  Easy. He’d have her story in no time. Including where the baby’s father was.

  “You want to pop by and give me a read on her?” he found himself asking, his plan of action in place.

  “Why don’t you call in a favor and run a check on her?” Logan suggested.

  “She’s my wife.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m trying to do this normal-life stuff. That doesn’t include running background checks and getting full dossiers. It means having conversations with people. Plus, I could get the guys in trouble for using agency resources for an unauthorized domestic situation.”

  “Fair enough, even though it hasn’t stopped us in the past.”

  “We were working with Scott.” From time to time the two of them had helped the underfunded, short-staffed local police officer, Scott Malone, with the odd case, which more often than not had led to them calling in favors from old associates. In other words, collecting dossiers on perps so they could lock them up faster.

  It was definitely rewarding having friends in high places. But in those cases he’d felt justified in reaching out, and with this he didn’t.

  “I’m plotting out that security system over at Mandy’s new brownie factory in Derbyshire,” Logan said, “but I’ll come by tomorrow to run the plans by you. Make sure your new wife’s home.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve got your back, mate. Treat her like a guest. Make her feel safe.”

  “Safe.” Right. He could do that. He’d spent a career keeping people safe.

  “And…”

  “What?”

  “Just be yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a babe magnet.” Logan paused, his voice lowering. “And remember…”

  “Condom? I know. I’m not new to this.”

  “Dude, she just got here. She has a baby.”

  “Right.” Zach squeezed his eyes shut. Where had that answer come from? He wasn’t one to push things or hurry women along. And a woman like Catherine needed space. A lot of it.

  Which was good, actually, because even though he’d apparently been looking for a wife online, he wasn’t looking for love. He wasn’t ready for something like that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “But yeah, when the time comes,” Logan said, “that’s always a good plan. What I was going to say is that you tend to make wise decisions while under the influence of the internet. She might just be the one you’ve been waiting for.”

  Zach ended the call, Logan’s teasing words about Catherine, a curvy woman with an irresistible British accent, being the one he’d been looking for all his life echoing in his mind.

  And to know if that was true, all he likely had to do was slip upstairs to his computer to read their forgotten chat messages before their next conversation. Because, after all, they had been enough to make him decide to marry her.

  2

  “Are you hungry?”

  Catherine looked up to find Zach standing in the doorway, his smooth, deep voice making her senses tingle, his offer of food causing her stomach to rumble. She blinked, processing his question, trying to rein her body into a somewhat neutral zone so in her exhaustion she didn’t do something embarrassing. Such as cry. Or ask him how often he worked out to achieve such amazing arms. Arms that looked as though he could sweep her up and carry her through any storm.

  She stopped burping Xavier, realizing she’d been absently doing so for several long minutes, trying to sort herself out while Zach had been outside, then upstairs. Xavier hadn’t been very hungry, but feeding him had given her a mini-escape from having to talk to Zach, allowing herself to slowly absorb her surroundings. The security system motion sensor in the corner with a built-in camera. The window sensors that would announce a break-in. The baseball bat sitting in the umbrella stand, which was strangely located at a hallway crossroads. Was this sleepy-looking mountain town actually a hotbed of crime? Or was Zach just serious about his security?

  Oddly enough, the sophisticated system didn’t make her feel watched or uncomfortable, just a little safer in what could be her and Xavier’s home.

  This was it. She was here. Married.

  But now what? This was pretty much where her plan ended.

  “Catherine?” Zach said gently.

  Right. He’d asked if she was hungry.

  “Yes, a bit. Thank you.”

  “The kitchen is this way.” Zach led her through an archway to a small dining area with sliding doors to a patio. To the right was the kitchen, spacious and open with lots of counter space, the kind of setup a mother of five would drool over. There was a large island workspace, a double sink beneath a big window overlooking the backyard, and plenty of cupboards, as well as a pantry that could house enough food to get a small family through an apocalypse.

  Not that she was calling them a family. Or anticipating an apocalypse. To get here she’d followed every precaution, and she felt secure knowing her past had been left behind. Her old life was right where it belonged—in her rearview mirror and losing ground with every step forward she took.

  “Help yourself to anything,” Zach was saying. “The whole house is yours. Well, I have a home office upstairs, but we can turn that into a nursery if you’d like.”

  She bounced Xavier lightly, smoot
hing his wispy dark hair, overcome by emotion. Calling a room a nursery made it all feel so real.

  “What do you like to eat?” Zach asked, digging through what looked like a well-stocked fridge. He turned to face her and she struggled to appear unaffected. “In our chats you said you like Italian.”

  She liked a man who remembered details. And according to his reply, he liked Italian, too. As well as playing with technological gadgets. Hence the security system?

  “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  He watched her for a second. “I could make spaghetti.”

  “That’s a rather large lunch.”

  “I’m sure your stomach thinks it’s well past suppertime.” He was already opening a can of tomatoes, dumping them into a pot that he set over low heat. In the sink he began filling a large pot with water for the noodles. “What time is it in Cyprus?”

  She’d spent only four hours in Cyprus—a layover of sorts. But it was the issuing country for her fake passport and she figured it was obscure enough that nobody would ever question her about what it was like to have lived there.

  “Don’t put yourself out. I’m all right,” she said, her stomach grumbling at her and proving her a liar.

  Zach moved the water to the stove and turned on the burner. “It’s nice to have someone to cook for.” He glanced at Xavier, who was dozing in Catherine’s arms. “Do you have more stuff coming along?”

  “More stuff?” she asked, dreading the question, as well as the cost of outfitting them both with everything they’d need, as they’d left most of their possessions behind.

  “A crib? Toys? Clothing? That sort of thing?” He plucked an orange from a small fruit bowl in the middle of the island, set it squarely on a cutting board and started deftly slicing it into thin wedges, like half-moons. Once finished, he slid the board toward her and went back to tending his sauce, as well as the ground beef he had frying.

  “Are you a chef?” He had a practiced, efficient way in the kitchen.

  “I was a cook for a few months while I was in the army. Maybe we can borrow a few things until your stuff arrives.”