Chemistry Lessons

by Rebecca H Jamison

  “Give me another year or two to work on this biotech thing,” Destry told him. “Then we’ll have plenty of capital, and I’ll work on the ranch with you, I promise.”

  He shouldn’t have waited.

  Maybe it was ridiculous to still keep the promise. But he had to try. If Cody’s idea for a rehabilitation resort could keep others from suffering the way Cody had, it’d be worth it.

  He took a swig from his water bottle while he walked past the other animal pens, hoping to find a source of fresh straw. That was when he spied the llama, staring at him from the other side of the fence. He’d never spent time around llamas before, not even when he hiked through Peru.

  As he got closer, he saw that the llama loomed just taller than himself. “Hey, llama,” he said, reaching out to touch the animal’s neck.

  Just as he touched it, he heard a shout, “Don’t touch her!”

  Before he could turn to see who was shouting, the llama spat into his face. It was more than spit though. It was a face-full of slimy rot, and it smelled worse than the chicken manure. He stepped back, wiping his face with the front of his T-shirt.

  He heard laughter coming from behind him. He’d heard it before—light and childlike. Rosie stood a few feet away, wearing a simple cream-colored dress that revealed the curves of her calves and ankles. How was it that she seemed to catch him at the most humiliating moments?

  The llama spit clung to him like glue. As Rosie approached, he wondered aloud, “What is in this?”

  Rosie put her face toward the llama, who bent to smell her breath as she spoke. “Undigested food. It scares her when people touch her neck.”

  The llama blinked her big, brown eyes. She didn’t look at all afraid—or apologetic.

  He poured the contents of his water bottle over his face. “If she’s so scared of me, why does she stand there, looking like she wants me to pet her?”

  Rosie ran her hand along the llama’s back. “You have to be slow around my animals. A lot of them have been abused. It’s better to let them approach you.”

  He gave no reply. It was the first time he’d seen her with her hair down, long and silky. The setting sun shimmered against the golden strands, each one a slightly different color than the others. She was so beautiful, so authentic compared to his last girlfriend—like the difference between motel art and a Monet. “You look great in that dress.”

  She hid her face behind the llama’s neck. “Thanks.” He had probably embarrassed her.

  “Did you have fun on your date?”

  She stepped back, facing him for a second. “We went up to Mount Morris. I love it up there.”

  That added another asset to the list of her good qualities: she was smart, strong, sensitive, and she appreciated nature. He shoved his water bottle back onto his belt. “Tanner’s a lucky guy.”

  She glanced over to the chicken run. “Cleaning that chicken pen must have been awful. Thank you.” She smiled, and it was the first time he had seen her without a worried look in her eyes. “They’re happier now. I can tell by the way they’re clucking.”

  “How’s Wile E doing?” he asked.

  “Well enough to steal Grandpa’s dinner off the table.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “I wanted to help make up for the time you lost taking care of her. Can I do anything else?”

  “Since you’re already here,” she spoke at a slow pace, as if she were reluctant to ask. “Would you mind giving the birds their electrolytes? They’re overdue for it.”

  “I’d be happy to.” He followed her to the barn, trying his best not to limp.

  She took a package off a shelf. “Just follow the directions,” she said, handing him a bucket and pointing to the hose.

  While she walked to the house, he mixed the solution and poured it into the birds’ water containers. Everything went perfectly until he got to the emu pen. With their reptile-like eyes, crest of feathers, and six-foot height, they looked like something out of Jurassic Park.

  He opened the latch on the gate and entered the pen, carrying a bucket in each hand. An emu grunted and ambled toward him, its eyes reflecting light from the barn. He froze. Was this going to be another episode like the one with the llama? He lowered his head in a show of submission.

  Looking down, he noticed three long claws on each of the bird’s enormous feet. He couldn’t help it. He stepped away, his heart thumping. The emu followed him until it’d backed him up against the fence. Remembering something he’d read about wild animal attacks, he raised the buckets above his head and roared, trying to sound like a bear. From the other side of the fence, Cheddar barked.

  That helped. The emu turned its head to the side and grunted. He stepped sideways, making his way toward the water trough. The giant bird followed him, lowering its head as if it wanted to drink from one of the buckets.

  “Is that it?” he asked, placing the bucket on the ground. “You want a drink?”

  The bird stepped right over the bucket, heading toward him. And now, another emu, this one a few inches taller, approached. “Oh, no you don’t,” he shouted, shooing the emus away with his hands. Picking the buckets up again, he walked along with both emus at his left side. He dumped the water into the trough, expecting they’d stay to drink. Instead they followed him back to the gate, where Rosie waited in her work clothes.

  She opened the latch on the gate, but held it shut. “These guys have no concept of personal space, especially when you’re wearing something shiny.”

  He held up his left hand and pointed to his gold watch. “So they’re after my watch?”

  “Yep. I like to think of them as overgrown parakeets.” She hissed at the emus, causing them to back away from the gate.

  As she swung it open, he stepped through. “I had a parakeet once, but only for a week.”

  She latched the gate closed. “What happened?”

  “My parents wouldn’t let us keep it. Apartment rules. My brother snuck pets in all the time, though.”

  Rosie brushed the hair out of her face. “I could never have pets when I was a kid either, at least not until I came here.”

  “Because you lived in apartments?”

  “Because of my stepdads. The first one didn’t like animals. The next one didn’t have enough money. And the third was just too mean.” Was that why she took in abused and abandoned animals? Because she’d lived with an abuser?

  “When did you come here?”

  She took the empty buckets and headed for the barn. “I came here on my own when I was twelve.”

  “Meaning, you ran away?”

  “Not exactly. One day, when I’d had enough of my stepdad, I bought a bus ticket with some money I’d saved. Mom must have thought I’d come back after a week or two. I never did. It took Mom another year of abuse before she realized she was better off without him.” Rosie set the buckets inside the barn and switched off the light.

  He helped her pull the door shut. “So he beat her?”

  She nodded.

  He reached his hand for her forearm, but decided not to touch her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Except for a few semesters at ASU, I’ve lived here ever since. It’s my sanctuary.” She folded her arms against the cool night breeze. “Thank you so much for your help. It’s a load off my mind to know the birds have been cared for.”

  “You remind me of my brother,” he said. It came out before he considered how she might react.

  She double-checked what she was wearing. “Your brother?”

  “I didn’t mean you look like a guy,” he stammered. “It’s the way you are with animals. You seem to know what they’re feeling. My brother was that way too.”

  Her eyes widened. “Was?”

  He pushed out the words in a rush. “He passed away last year.” Their conversation had gotten a little too comfortable—at least for a conversation with a woman who already had a boyfriend. Then again, maybe her relationship with Tanner wasn’t as serious as he thought. That was one thing he’
d like to ask Betty.

  She watched him with eyes of compassion, waiting for his explanation.

  “He died of a prescription drug overdose,” he said and then swallowed. It still hurt to say those words. “He got hooked after his back surgery.”

  Her brows drew together in a crease. “How awful. I’m sorry.”

  He rubbed his forehead. It was hard to look her in the eye for the next part. “I didn’t know how bad it had gotten for him until afterward. His friends had all quit talking to him. My parents ignored the problem. And I didn’t make time for him like I should have. After he died, I decided I couldn’t let anyone else go through what he went through.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Her soft words emerged like the song of angels, offering the forgiveness he craved.

  He had to remind himself that she had only said them because she didn’t know the whole story. “That’s why I bought the ranch—to help people like Cody.”

  Rosie tipped her head to the side. “So you’re building a bed and breakfast to raise money for people like your brother?”

  “The resort is for people like my brother.” He looked her in the eyes, realization dawning. “I thought everyone understood that when they gave permission.”

  “The letter from your lawyer didn’t say anything about drug addicts.” Her tone took a serious turn, and her jaw tightened.

  He rushed to reassure her. “They’ll be people who have already gone through rehab, and they’ll sign contracts before they come, agreeing to take regular drug tests.” He wanted to tell her that the letter from his lawyer had spelled everything out clearly, but, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t ever read the letter. Since it wasn’t a medical facility, maybe it hadn’t been legally necessary to mention what type of guests he would receive. “I’m sorry if the letter didn’t make that clear. Your safety will be my highest priority.”

  “So, these people.” She spoke with caution, hesitating as she examined his face. “Will they be driving?”

  “Some of them.”

  “What’s to stop them from driving under the influence?” She folded her arms. “We’re less than an hour away from the casino on the reservation, and there are plenty of bars in town.”

  He kept his voice calm and soft. “If any of my guests slip up, they’ll know they can call us for a ride. And speaking of the reservation, I’m hoping I can help some of the people out there too.”

  She let out a breathy laugh. “As if they could afford to go to a resort.”

  “Then I’ll take them for free. I’m here to help people, not to make money.”

  Rosie narrowed her eyes at him. She seemed more confused than angry, but he couldn’t be sure. “We’ll have to talk about this later,” she said. “I have get back to Grandpa now.”

  Destry walked with her to the house, his palms beginning to sweat. “I’m happy to talk any time. I want to make sure you’re comfortable with my plans.” Rosie wasn’t the only neighbor he needed to win over to his plan either. He needed to get the whole town on his side. Likely, many of them felt the same as she did.

  She nodded, her lips forming a tight line while her eyes scrunched downward. She looked almost sad. “Bye, Destry. Thanks for your help.”

  “Anytime.”

  All he had wanted to do was help, but somehow, once again, he had made everything worse. Plus, he had stepped so far out of his comfort zone that he was beginning to lose his confidence. It was time to do something that came more easily for him, something that would take him off his ranch and into the lives of his neighbors.

  Chapter 5

  Rosie took full advantage of the casual dress code for the first teacher work day after summer break. Donning her best pair of jeans, a crisp white button-up shirt, and her grandmother’s turquoise jewelry, she arrived at the school fifteen minutes early.

  She wasn’t one to keep her mouth shut about her concerns, and today she had a big one. Why hadn’t they hired Tanner for the science teacher position? It was true she had an ulterior motive, considering he’d asked her to marry him, but that had nothing to do with it. Tanner was completely qualified. He had his certification and had proven his ability as a substitute teacher for the past two years.

  She hadn’t yet told Tanner she’d marry him but had grasped onto that plan. A partnership with him made sense. Other than her grandparents, he had been the one constant in her life—as reliable as the old apple tree that tolerated both drought and flood, never failing to yield fruit. Besides that, he was her best friend. Didn’t everyone say you should marry your best friend?

  She marched into Principal Moore’s cramped office. The old brick school was at least seventy years old, and, though it now had air conditioning, some rooms were still pretty hot in the summer. The principal’s office felt like an oven, even with a little fan blowing from the corner. She found Mr. Moore wiping sweat from the top of his bald head as he sifted through a stack of folders on his desk. He was a tall, thin man whose reading glasses rested on the end of his nose. “I’d like to talk to you about the science teacher position,” Rosie said. “I was thinking—”

  “I filled the position this morning. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with our new hire.”

  “This morning?” That’s why Rosie hadn’t heard from Tanner about it. He hadn’t signed the contract until this morning. She smiled as she imagined sitting in the teacher’s lounge having lunch with Tanner.

  “Yes, and that brings up another topic. You haven’t answered my e-mail about the changes to your schedule.” He didn’t bother to look at her as he spoke.

  “Oh,” Rosie said. “Um.” The truth was she hadn’t checked her e-mail since Wile E’s injury.

  He pulled a folder from his stack and opened it. “Would it be okay if I switched your schedule around a little? Ms. Klein’s old schedule didn’t really mesh with the new teacher’s areas of expertise.”

  He probably wanted Tanner to teach chemistry and biology. “That’s fine,” Rosie said. “I’ve taught all the science classes before.”

  “I wouldn’t have made the changes if you hadn’t. I put a copy of the new schedule in your box. We’re printing out the final student schedules later today, so speak now or forever hold your peace. I’ve already had a few angry parents wanting to know why they haven’t received them yet.” He peered at her over the top of his reading glasses, waiting for her answer.

  She flipped through the stack of papers she’d collected from her box, but couldn’t find her printed schedule. “It won’t be a problem.”

  He pushed his glasses up on his nose and stared down at the folder. “And I assume you’re okay being a mentor teacher. You didn’t answer that e-mail either.”

  Rosie wondered for a second if it was completely ethical to be her fiancé’s mentor. “If you think I’m the best one for the job.”

  “I wouldn’t have given you the job if I didn’t think you were.” Mr. Moore pushed the folders to the side of his desk. “We better get down to the faculty meeting,” he said. Rosie noticed Alan Erskine’s student file at the top of the stack.

  “If you ask me, Alan Erskine needs professional counseling.” Rosie realized once she’d spoken that she’d been a little too bold. School-wide discipline wasn’t her domain. “He has a lot to deal with at home. It’s no wonder his mouth gets him into trouble.” The truth was, Rosie related to Alan. She knew what it was like to deal with multiple stepdads.

  During his mother’s last breakup, Alan had come to school, over and over again, with the smell of hard liquor on his breath. What made it even worse was that he was over six feet tall and at least two-hundred and fifty pounds.

  Once, he’d been drunk enough to make a pass at Rosie. She hadn’t reported him. You had to guard your reputation in a small town like Lone Spur. There was already plenty of talk about Rosie dating a man four years younger than herself. How would it be if Betty found out that Alan made a pass at her?

  “Alan’s an intelligent boy,” Rosie said, trying to so
und objective, “but as teachers, we just can’t give him the help he needs.”

  Principal Moore gave her a cursory “thank you.” He grabbed another stack of files and headed for the auditorium, where they held their faculty meetings. They arrived to find four rows of teachers sitting there. The auditorium was exactly the same as it had been when Rosie went to school, complete with the gold velvet curtain across the stage and the purple painted letters on the wall that read, “Spurred on to Victory.”

  The principal glanced around at the other teachers and whispered, “The new hire isn’t here yet. I’ll introduce him when he arrives. It’s going to be a banner year for our science department.”

  She wasn’t sure why Mr. Moore was so reluctant to say the name of the new hire. Maybe he had hired someone from Morrisville or Copper City—someone Rosie didn’t know. Of course, anyone would be better than Ms. Klein. The woman had a temper the size of a tsunami. She actually threw a potted plant at Mr. Moore’s head two months before when he announced their insurance premiums would be increasing. Needless to say, Ms. Klein had decided to find herself another job.

  She sat down in an auditorium seat next to her friend, Jade Harris, who taught Spanish. Jade was a country woman through and through. She had been a rodeo princess during high school and still looked the part. Hardly a day went by that she didn’t wear at least one article of clothing with sequins. Today, she wore her honey-colored hair swept up in a chignon that she had accented with sparkly bobby pins. “Did I hear right? He’s finally hired a new science teacher?” Jade asked.

  Rosie nodded, smiling, as Principal Moore started the meeting. It was the usual beginning-of-the-year business, which mostly involved implementing funding cuts. This year, the board had decided to do away with the band program. The year before, it’d been the pottery class—thanks in part to a broken kiln. Rosie doodled flowers on her notebook—daffodils, hyacinths, roses, and irises—as Principal Moore fielded questions from the other teachers. Then she heard that voice. “What if I found some donors to help us keep the band program going? How much would we need?”