Chemistry Lessons

by Rebecca H Jamison

Destry grabbed a napkin from his lunch bag and wiped the water from his face. “So what’s Clementine’s history?”

  Rosie watched as the cat tasted the tuna. “She showed up at the gas station a few years ago, hanging out in some bushes behind the dumpster. The station owners put food and water out there for her. In the winter, when her water bowl started to freeze over, I brought her home to live in the barn with all the rest of my cats. Grandma kind of adopted her, though, and made her a house cat.”

  Clementine licked the rest of the tuna off the spoon.

  “How many cats do you have?” Destry asked.

  “Two in the house.”

  Destry stifled a smile. “And I suppose the ones in the barn don’t count.”

  She looked up at the ceiling of the truck. “Okay, call me a crazy cat lady. I have twelve in the barn. All of them are spayed or neutered, and I go through a bag of cat food a week.”

  “I’ll bet you have a lot fewer mice in your barn than I do.”

  “You’re welcome to take a few cats off my hands.”

  “I might just do that.” He turned his head to gaze out the side window. “My brother would say I should get strays from the shelter.”

  “And your brother would be right.” She assumed he was talking about his brother who’d died. She had no business delving into personal subjects with Destry, but she understood his pain too well. “He sounds like a great guy.”

  Destry nodded. “He was. You would have liked him.”

  She held out another spoonful of tuna for the cat.

  “I wish I’d bought the ranch before Cody died,” Destry said. “It was something he’d always wanted to do.”

  Those two sentences held more information about Destry than Rosie had ever gathered from the town gossips. “So moving here was your brother’s idea?” She had always thought he’d come here because land was cheap. The cat crawled into her lap, and she petted her soft orange fur.

  “I guess you could say that. As kids we’d always dreamed of living in the country. I got distracted with my business, but I always meant to come out here with him. Our plan was to turn our ranch into a resort for troubled kids. After Cody died, I changed the plan a bit.” Both their phones buzzed at the same time, and Destry paused to read a text. “Looks like school is cancelled after all.”

  Rosie groaned. “Now they tell us.”

  She looked at him, sitting there in his mud-covered clothes. He grinned, still breathing hard from the exertion. She half-expected him to grab his cowboy hat, only he didn’t have one. He wasn’t a cowboy, but in that moment, he seemed like one—the type of cowboy her grandpa had been—the messy, risk-taking, hard worker that dove into rescue mode before he had time to think it through.

  From their conversation about Cody, Rosie guessed that the life of a rancher wasn’t the kind of life Destry would have chosen for himself. Still, if Rosie looked past his fashionable clothes and salon haircut, she could see his inner grit, a stubborn resolve to fight against the elements, even if it meant losing his dignity . . . or his life. Maybe that was what her grandpa meant on that first night when he said Destry had what it took to run his ranch.

  But that wasn’t Destry’s real purpose here. He had come because of guilt—a payback to his dead brother. “Was it Cody’s idea to help people on your ranch?” she asked.

  “Yes. He wanted to help troubled kids from the city. You know, kind of a summer camp thing.”

  “And you changed the plan to make it for troubled adults.” She couldn’t help the nervous squeak that came into her voice. She wished she could discuss the subject as easily as they discussed her animals.

  “That’s right.”

  Rosie picked at a fleck of dirt under her thumbnail, trying to find some excuse for her objection—anything but a rehash of the scene she still relived in her nightmares. “It just seems like our town has enough trouble as it is.” Tanner would probably say she’d presented an illogical argument, but she went on. “I mean, you’ve seen how it is for Alan. This isn’t the place to come if you want to escape from the world.”

  Destry stretched his arm along the back of the seat and turned his body to face her. “I’ll admit I thought things would be simpler here. I should have realized people have problems no matter where they live.” He had gotten her point, but it wasn’t the point she needed to make.

  Without thinking, she dug the spoon into the tuna pouch and lifted it to her mouth.

  Destry reached his hand out to stop her. “Umm, the cat licked that.”

  She set the spoon back down again, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. Had she really tried to eat the cat’s food? She tended to stuff her face when she got nervous, but she had never stooped to eating after the cat. “I’m afraid of drunk drivers.” She had opened the gate, and all she held captive escaped into the open. “I mean impaired drivers. My grandmother was killed by one last year. It was just an ordinary day. Seven o’clock at night. I was taking Grandma to buy a tube of denture cream. Denture cream of all things.” Her words spewed forth at the speed of thought, almost as if she weren’t speaking them. “I admire you for what you’re trying to do. The people you’re trying to help—they need a chance to recover. But in my experience, most of them don’t recover. They stay the same year after year.”

  She was about to tell him about Janessa when he interrupted. “Why didn’t you tell me about your grandmother before?” His words were soft and full of sympathy. Like cool water running over sunburned skin, they defused her anxiety. He understood. A rush of warmth filled her as she realized he’d gotten her with hardly any effort. “I’m going to help the ones who want to change,” he said.

  Rosie let his words seep into her thoughts. I’m going to help the ones who want to change.

  She remembered that feeling of wanting to be something better. In the years since her childhood, Rosie had rebuilt herself by working hard on the ranch and at school. She couldn’t have done it if she hadn’t moved in with her grandparents, where she felt safe. Who was she to deny another person the opportunity to come to Lone Spur?

  These people weren’t like her, though. They had dangerous habits—habits that led to death from overdoses, death from traffic accidents, and death from domestic violence. Lone Spur already had enough danger as it was. Sometimes she couldn’t even bring herself to walk out the door at night. If these people lived next door, she didn’t know how she could live with her fear.

  Chapter 13

  Destry had blown it again. Rosie’s biggest worry wasn’t that her car was stuck in the floodwaters, her biggest worry was that he planned to bring recovering addicts next door. He came here to start a new life—one where he did no harm, only good. Yet, in the process of trying to help people like his brother, he was opening up Rosie’s wound—one that had barely healed.

  If he’d known earlier that Rosie’s grandmother had been killed by an intoxicated driver, he might not have bought the ranch. Now it was too late to turn back. He already bought the ranch, the architects already drew up the plans, and the construction workers had spent a week leveling the land.

  Surely, he could accomplish his goals without hurting Rosie. He just needed her to see the virtue in what he wanted to accomplish.

  Beside him, Rosie held her hand up to the dashboard. “My car’s moving. I’m sure of it.”

  He flipped on the windshield wipers and stared at the hatchback. The water was above the door handles now. He didn’t have the heart to tell Rosie that with the engine flooded, the car was likely a total loss. “I think you’re right.”

  “It’ll be okay,” she said, her voice tight. “There’s a guard rail over there to hold it. We’ll have to clean it up a bit, but it’ll be fine.” As the car approached the side of the road, it drifted faster and faster, sinking deeper into the water.

  He pulled out his phone. “I’ll take a picture for your insurance company.”

  She stared at her car and didn’t move. “I only carry collision on it. Pictures won’t he
lp.”

  He focused his phone’s camera on the car as water pressed against it, forming a wave. He had just started taking a video when the car rolled over the rail. They watched it turn upside down and bob toward the river. Destry put his phone down. “I didn’t think . . . If I’d known—”

  “At least I got Clementine.” Rosie hugged the cat to her chest.

  She looked like a little kid, hunched over with her face in the cat’s fur. He tried to imagine what she might be thinking. She’d lost her grandmother about a year ago in an accident, and now she’d lost her grandmother’s car, along with two boxes of lab equipment in its trunk.

  If he thought she’d let him, Destry would have taken her in his arms and told her not to worry. He could buy her another car if she’d let him, which she probably wouldn’t. He imagined her snuggled against his chest as he comforted her and stroked her hair. As it was, all he could do was place a hand on her shoulder. At the very least, he could find a way to quietly replace her lab equipment.

  They watched the car floating upside-down as the river carried it downstream. “Now’s probably a good time to tell you Clementine threw up in the back seat.”

  Rosie laughed, sniffling and wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I guess I would have had to get rid of the car anyway.”

  “I was going to recommend that.”

  The river below them was as brown as chocolate milk, swirling and splashing. They sat there, staring at it, shocked by its sheer force, until sirens drew their attention away. A fire engine approached, its flashing lights reflecting off the wet road.

  He heaved out his breath. “Now they come.”

  Rosie covered her face with her hands. “They’re going to want me to file a report.” She’d obviously been through this type of thing before—probably when she had that accident with the impaired driver.

  “You stay here,” he said. “I’ll tell them what happened.” She didn’t argue—a fact that spoke volumes about how exhausted she felt.

  He opened his door and stepped out into the rain as the fire engine came to a stop. The driver removed his headphones and opened his window. He was a middle-aged guy with frizzy brown hair and a sunburned face. “We heard there was a car stalled in the floodwaters.”

  Destry pointed down the river. “It got swept away about a minute ago. Rosie doesn’t want to file a report.”

  “Tell her we’re sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” the fireman said. “We’ve had a lot of calls this morning. Is everything else okay?”

  Destry paused. Was Rosie okay? “She might be a little shocked. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Rosie’s tough as nails. She’s probably fine. You’ll have to drive the loop through Morrisville to get her home. It’ll take about an hour. Tell her she can file a report later if she changes her mind.” The fireman started to roll up his window.

  “I’ll do that,” Destry replied, hurrying to speak before the window closed all the way. “You should really put a Road Closed sign here.”

  The fireman replaced his headphones and gave Destry a thumbs up. “Will do.”

  Destry wasn’t at all disappointed that he’d be spending the next hour with Rosie. It could have been under better circumstances, but he wasn’t about to complain. He walked back to his truck as the fire engine turned around. When he sat back inside, he found that Rosie had his radio tuned to news reports about the flooding. “I’ve got satellite radio,” he said. “We could be listening to music.”

  Rosie still held the cat to her chest. “Things sound really bad.”

  “Which is why we should be listening to music. You’ve had enough stress for one day, even for a woman named Hurricane. What do you want to listen to while we drive the loop through Morrisville?”

  She reached for her seat belt. “Anything but love songs.”

  “They’re the worst.” His voice held a hint of amusement.

  Rosie folded her arms. “It has nothing to do with Tanner. My third stepdad used to sing me love songs when my mom wasn’t home.”

  It sounded like she might have been abused. “No wonder you hate them.” He waited to see if she would tell him more about her stepdad while he searched the stations for a song with a strong bass. The song he found also happened to be a breakup song—even better. “Here’s one I can recommend. Nothing like a good breakup song.”

  She smiled. “I love this one.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he put the car in drive. It seemed odd that a newly engaged woman, even one who’d been abused, would enjoy a breakup song more than a love song.

  Rosie shrugged. “So I find breakup songs empowering. They don’t have to be about romantic relationships. You can break up with anything that holds you back.”

  He shifted the truck into drive. “Including a man.”

  Rosie pursed her lips and turned away from him to gaze out the window.

  He’d gone too far. “I guess I’m more traditional,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “I like breakup songs because of a woman named Tiffany.”

  They drove over a dip in the road, and the cat clawed at Rosie’s neck. “Ouch,” she shrieked. “This cat is going back in the bag. She hates riding in cars.”

  Since there wasn’t anyone else on the road, Destry stopped the truck and held the canvas bag open as Rosie stuck the cat back inside. She closed the bag, being careful not to catch Clementine’s fur in the zipper.

  “I always liked the name Tiffany.”

  “She had extremely high standards,” he said, straining to speak over the cat’s cries.

  “Which is why she chose you?” She sent him a shy smile, and Destry hoped she wasn’t being sarcastic.

  He usually avoided the faux pas of talking about past relationships, but since he wasn’t dating Rosie—and probably never would—past relationships were fair game, and he was more than curious about her past. “I’m not sure anyone could entirely meet Tiffany’s expectations. She can’t even choose a chocolate bar without consulting the internet. Nothing was ever easy with her.”

  Inside the bag, Clementine hissed. A set of claws poked through the canvas, threatening to tear the fabric to pieces. “You sound a little bitter,” Rosie whispered, as if she understood the emotion.

  He might as well admit it. “I am. She left me on the day of my brother’s funeral.”

  When he glanced her way, he saw that she’d turned her whole body toward him, her eyes studying his face. “Sounds to me like you’re better off without her.”

  Her words released a tightness inside him—a tension that had held him for the past year. Of course, she didn’t know the whole story, but finally someone trusted that it wasn’t all his fault.

  The rain eased up a bit as they turned onto the route toward Morrisville. The road paralleled the railroad track and ran along higher ground. Sunflowers and tall weeds hid their view of the river, which was just as well. Rosie didn’t need another reminder of her car floating downstream. Here and there, they crossed over a flooded wash.

  A love song came on, and she changed the station to one that played jazz.

  It just didn’t make sense that she could be so in love with Tanner and hate love songs. Destry had to know more about their relationship. All he knew so far was that they had known each other since childhood when Rosie spent her summer vacations at the ranch.

  “So what’s it like,” he asked, “knowing you’ve found the one?” Now that he’d said it, a jolt of adrenaline traveled through him. He was probably going to find out once and for all that she was completely unavailable.

  “What do you mean?” She sounded confused.

  He considered asking a different question. After all, they barely knew each other, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. “What’s it like knowing you’ve found the right guy for you?”

  “It’s nice.” She picked at one of her fingernails. “Tanner gives me a sense of security.”

  Security? Did she mean financial security? He thought he knew Rosie well enough to know that she
didn’t seem like the kind of person who would marry only for money. What other kind of security was there? His curiosity was piqued. Whatever her reason was, it didn’t sound romantic.

  “My childhood was so unstable,” she said. “Something was always changing, and I had a hard time trusting people. Tanner’s the kind of person who’ll always be there for me.”

  “I guess I never had to worry about stability,” Destry said. “I’ve always wanted the kind of marriage my parents have. They’ve been married for over thirty-five years, yet they still kiss hello and goodbye.”

  “It would be nice to have role models like that.”

  “It is. Dad and I talk every week.” He wasn’t sure he should tell Rosie that his mom wasn’t speaking to him. It was all because he hadn’t done more to prevent Cody’s death. Looking back, it was easy enough for Destry to see that he shouldn’t have fired Cody from his job as vice president. At the time, though, Destry thought the tough love approach would force Cody to turn away from drugs.

  She turned down the music and pulled out her phone. “I should call Tanner and Grandpa before they find out about my car getting washed down the river.” She called her grandpa first. The call was short, and she didn’t mention getting caught in floodwaters.

  It was always awkward to sit in the same car as someone having a private conversation on the phone. He tried not to listen as she talked with Tanner, but he couldn’t help it. Snippets of their discussion made it easy to reconstruct the whole: “It honestly didn’t look that deep, and I thought I had to get to the school” . . . “I’m with Destry. He’s the one who helped me get out of the car” . . . “There’s really nothing you can do. We should be back in an hour” . . . “We’ll have to go to the jewelry store another day” . . . “I’m not going to change my mind about the diamond. I want a plain gold band.” Rosie seemed like a woman who had been married a long time—tired, slightly impatient, comfortable, but bored. She didn’t sound like a woman in love.

  She went on, talking about rings as Destry drove up a steep hill. As he neared the top, he stopped for a herd of cattle standing in the road. A large bull stood at the front with about fifteen cows and steers behind him. Rosie put the phone to her chest. “Just honk. They’ll move.”