Chemistry Lessons

by Rebecca H Jamison

“You could make some flyers like my dad made the other day,” Janessa said. “You know—the ones about the town hall meeting. They looked really professional.”

  Mercedes sent a quick glance at Destry before she replied, “Sure.”

  He knew what Mercedes’s look meant. Mr. Moore was gathering opposition to the plans for his retreat. It shouldn’t have shocked him, but it did. He got up and walked to the fence, away from the fire. Had he somehow reached a point in his life where he’d never succeed again? He had failed last year with his brother. Then he had to hire someone else to clean up all the damage he caused to his company. He came here to move on, start over. And now here he was, failing again.

  Mercedes caught up to him, threading her arm through his. “I should have told you about the flyers.”

  “I wish someone had told me how hard it is to succeed at anything in this town.”

  “Well, you’ve succeeded at one thing.” Her gentle tone chased away his troubled thoughts.

  Destry searched her eyes, anxious to see what she might say. “What’s that?”

  “Getting me to want to date again.” Her eyes flicked up toward his, as if she were testing to see how he would react.

  After Rosie’s repeated rejections, he hungered for such open acceptance. He sent his voice down an octave. “Who have I made you want to date?”

  Instead of the flirtatious reply he expected, she averted her eyes. Had his words wounded her? He remembered hearing that her last boyfriend had left her for another woman.

  He couldn’t resist the urge to rescue. “I’m hoping it’s me,” he whispered, reaching his hand to her shoulder and pulling her toward him. Darkness enveloped them as they stood away from the rest of the guests.

  She didn’t put up any resistance but wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in for a kiss before he could think to react. Maybe it was because he had thought too much about that kiss with Rosie, but it surprised him how much he had to bend over to reach her lips. He couldn’t help remembering how Rosie had felt in his arms, her height just right. It was no big deal, though.

  Mercedes melded against him, the scent of her lotion wafting around him. He could get used to the height difference. After a few days, he would probably stop expecting to feel well-toned muscles in Mercedes’s arms—so much softer than Rosie’s—and he would grow accustomed to her vanilla-sweet scent.

  “So when do you want to start this dating thing?” he asked.

  She ran her finger over the top of his lips. “I think we’ve already started.”

  She reached to kiss him again. This time, a light flashed toward them, and he heard wolf whistles coming from the direction of the fire. He groaned. It seemed they had already become the latest news for the town gossips. Not that it bothered him all that much. He didn’t stand a chance with Rosie anyway.

  Chapter 26

  Rosie knew Mr. Moore had been lying on Friday afternoon when he said something came up and she couldn’t hire his sons to bale her hay this time around. The memory of his voice flipped a switch inside her head—in one blink, she went from irritated to irate. Janessa Moore should have faced a manslaughter charge. Instead, Rosie, who had lost her grandmother, was the one being punished. How was that justice?

  Over the previous month, her grandfather got a citation on his truck for being a day late on the inspection, and Rosie received sub-par scores on her mid-term teacher evaluations. On top of that, the butcher, Mr. Moore’s brother-in-law, raised his rates for processing their beef. Rosie took her business to the Morristown butcher instead.

  Now Mr. Moore was telling her she couldn’t hire his boys to help bale. With acres of cut and dried alfalfa lying in the fields, she had to get it done before rain came within the next few days. She would show Mr. Moore that she could do the baling herself with Grandpa’s rickety, old baler. And she would do it at no cost to herself.

  The fact that Tanner got so many neighbors to help with the work also took the edge off her anger. She could always count on him to come through for her. Jade and Alan showed up first thing on Saturday morning. Her mom and Mike had also driven down to help for the day.

  Destry came sauntering in a while later, wearing a T-shirt that hinted at his well-developed chest muscles. Hardly believing that Tanner had invited him, Rosie snuck a second glance at that T-shirt, wishing her feelings of attraction would subside. She’d heard he was dating Mercedes now, and she hoped that would put an end to the awkward moments between them.

  For now, the most important thing was that they had enough workers to fill the barn with square bales by the end of the afternoon.

  Rosie started out driving the tractor with the baler attached while Jade drove the tractor with the trailer. As she pulled the baler over the dried alfalfa, Rosie glanced at the men following the trailer on the other side of the field. Destry and Alan lifted the bales to Tanner, who stood on top of the trailer, stacking them.

  Behind her, the baler let out a monotonous squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak. After an hour of traveling up and down the rows with no break from the noise, she stopped the tractor and walked back to inspect the parts.

  Seeing her, Tanner came running. “What’s wrong?”

  “The squeaking. I’m wondering if it needs some oil.”

  Tanner studied the machinery, testing the tightness of the nuts and bolts. “The belts look okay, and I just put in new lacing pins. I think that’s just the sound it makes.” He pulled his iPod from his pocket. “You can use this if it’ll help.”

  Rosie gratefully accepted the iPod and hopped back on the tractor. She stuck the earbuds in her ears and sorted through Tanner’s playlists—love songs, love songs, and more love songs. Lately, she didn’t mind a romantic song so much, especially when they made her think of Tanner and how much he sacrificed for her. The problem was that most of the time her mind drifted back to that kiss in the cemetery. The one that didn’t involve Tanner.

  She noticed that one of Tanner’s playlists was titled Rosie. Curious, she clicked on it and resumed driving the tractor.

  The first song had an old-time country feel. “You’re the missing piece of my heart,” the singer crooned, “the sweetest melody in my ears, the drop of sweet nectar on my tongue.” Rosie knew immediately why she recognized those words—Tanner had written them in his love letter. For just a moment, she froze, the realization that he’d lied to her foremost in her mind. He’d stolen those words that had meant so much to her. She listened to the rest of the song, wanting to be sure, but by the time it ended she knew he’d plagiarized the words. She pulled the buds from her ears.

  Hay dust clung to her face, and she tried to brush it off as she reconsidered the implications. Was she blowing this out of proportion? Did it matter that Tanner had copied the words? Yes. It did matter to her. He had told her specifically that the words came straight from his heart.

  When the men returned from taking their load of hay to the barn, she asked Alan to bale for her, making an excuse that she needed to lift hay bales for a while to get some exercise.

  Tanner lowered his chin and lifted an eyebrow. “Sweetie, are you sure you want to lift? Alan’s really strong.” He knew perfectly well she could lift a seventy-five pound bale—she lifted a few every day in the winter. But he also knew her back sometimes ached from the accident last year.

  She took the work gloves from her pocket and slipped them on. “I’ll just help with this one load. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Destry, taking the hint, hopped onto the trailer, ready to stack the bales.

  Tanner lifted a bale onto the trailer. Rosie lifted the next one and spoke to Tanner as Destry walked to the other end of the trailer. “I listened to the song you quoted in your letter,” she said.

  Tanner gave her a blank look. “What?” He picked up another bale as Rosie gave hers to Destry.

  “You know.” She lowered her voice. “You wrote that I’m the missing piece of your heart and. . . all those other things. You told me you made tha
t part up, that the words came straight from your heart.”

  He gave his bale to Destry and scratched the back of his neck. “All I meant was that I felt every word I wrote.”

  Rosie went back to lift another bale. “But you didn’t write it. You copied it. You should have told me you were quoting a song.” She dropped the bale onto the trailer and rested a hand on her hip.

  “I didn’t know it was that important to you.” He spoke through his teeth, keeping his voice low to prevent Destry from hearing. “If you ever get around to writing a letter for me, I won’t expect you to be so original.”

  Rosie matched his tone. “Well, now that I know I can copy lines from love songs, it might not be as hard as I thought.”

  Tanner shook his head and went back to pick up another bale. “Women!”

  She felt angry enough to throw a hundred bales of hay onto the trailer, but there was only one left in this row. Tanner got to it before she did. He lifted it onto the trailer, wiped his brow, and said, “I left my water bottle in the other field. I’ll be back.”

  It was obvious he didn’t want to talk—just like he didn’t want to talk on the day he fought with Destry. They had never had so many arguments before they got engaged, and his immaturity was starting to show through. Was this how he was going to be for the rest of their lives, giving her a cold shoulder every time they fought?

  As she followed the trailer to the next row, Rosie caught sight of two figures approaching from the house—her mother and Mike. They held hands and walked close, her mother throwing her head back in laughter. Since she had started dating Mike, Azalea had taken up playing the guitar and writing music again. She spoke more about the future and less about the past. She’d stopped refusing desserts and danced to songs that came on the radio.

  Her mom had been happy when she first met her other husbands, but Mike was different. He treated Grandpa with respect, and he bragged about Azalea’s abilities almost as much as he bragged about his daughters and granddaughters.

  “Everything okay?” Destry asked when the trailer stopped.

  Rosie snapped her head around to look at him. “Everything’s great,” she lied, keeping her tone positive.

  He crouched down. “You’ve got that faraway look again,” he said, soft enough to send goose bumps dancing over her arms. “I wish I could get a visa to wherever it is you go.”

  She laughed and turned to pick up another bale but then looked back at him. “Did you make that up?”

  “Did I make what up?”

  “The part about getting a visa to wherever I go.”

  Destry shrugged. “I didn’t make it up on the spot. I’ve thought it before about you.” He jumped down from the trailer and lifted a bale up to the trailer bed. “A bale of hay for your thoughts?”

  Rosie wasn’t in the habit of revealing her thoughts, especially to the one man she couldn’t afford to be close to. Should she break her own rule? She was mad enough at Tanner that she had to vent to someone. “Technically, it’s already my hay.”

  “Yes, but these things weigh about a hundred pounds each.”

  “Seventy-five pounds,” she corrected. “They only feel like a hundred pounds.”

  He bent and picked up another one, grunting. “Okay, seventy-five pounds. That’s worth some credit, isn’t it? I just lifted 150 pounds for your thoughts.”

  It was so easy to talk to Destry. Comfortable. Safe. She knew he wouldn’t gossip or share her secrets. Rosie glanced over her shoulder to see her mom and Mike halfway across the field. “I was just thinking about my mom. She’s had so many bad experiences, I didn’t think she could ever be happy with a man—permanently happy, I mean.”

  “But you think Mike could be the right one for her?”

  Rosie nodded. “He doesn’t set off any of my alarms, and she still loves him.” She noticed a smudge of grease on the bridge of Destry’s nose, and she almost reached to wipe it off.

  “So you’ve become a believer in true love?” He stopped to scrutinize her as he spoke.

  It was almost as if they were continuing their conversation from the day he kissed her. “Maybe,” Rosie replied, almost in a whisper. She wished he would smile at her the way he did that day.

  He jumped back on the trailer to stack the bales, and when he spoke again, the subject had nothing to do with love. “I took your advice and sent a mass e-mail to the parents about next week’s test. I got five replies. Only one was complimentary.”

  She should have been relieved to talk about something else. Instead the change of subject reminded her that he was dating Mercedes now. She picked up two more bales before she came up with a reply. “I know how hard it is, but we have to remember that our most important job isn’t to please the parents and administrators.” She had recited these same words to herself countless times. “It’s to teach these kids—to ignite the fire for learning. You’re a great teacher, Destry. Just keep it up.”

  He crouched to look her in the eyes. “If it weren’t for you, I probably would have resigned by now. You help me remember why I wanted this job.”

  There were the goose bumps again. She wasn’t used to a man treating her with so much tenderness and sincerity. How she ached for Tanner to be this way.

  They stacked ten more bales before Mike and her mom reached the trailer. “We’ve got lunch all set whenever you’re ready to take a break,” Azalea said. “Mike’s made us a feast—everything from scratch.”

  Rosie grinned, her stomach rumbling at the thought. Mike could cook? She hoped he really was as amazing as he sounded—especially since she was starving.

  Though she had only been working thirty minutes, sweat drenched her body, making hay particles stick to her. And a dull ache in her back made her wish she had paid more attention to the way she had lifted the hay. She would be sore tomorrow. “That sounds great,” she said, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. “We’ll be in as soon as we load up the trailer.”

  “See you then,” Azalea said, sending her a thumbs up, and turning to walk back to the house with Mike.

  Destry jumped down from the trailer and ran around to the tractor to tell Jade the good news—they only had one more row until lunch. Rosie sent a quick text to Tanner, telling him to meet them at the house.

  They followed the tractor as Jade drove to the next row, where Rosie lifted one bale after another up to Destry. Her back hurt, but she told herself to work through it, to use her legs to lift.

  She was bending to pick up her third to last bale when a sharp pain seized her. It bolted through her lower back, forcing her to stay hunched over, her hands on her knees, unable to move. Even breathing added to the pain.

  “Are you okay?” Destry called, jumping down from the trailer.

  But she couldn’t answer. Every movement spiked the pain, sending it throbbing through her hips and legs.

  Chapter 27

  “What’s going on?” Rosie recognized Jade’s voice and her red cowgirl boots approaching.

  “Rosie hurt her back,” Destry explained. He stood motionless beside Rosie as she stared down at that last bale of hay that needed to go onto the trailer.

  “Can I help you get up?” Jade asked, holding out a hand. “It might feel better if you’re standing straight.”

  “No.” The word squeaked out, barely audible. Every movement knifed through her. She already knew what happened. She’d lifted and twisted. A deadly combination.

  “The same thing happened to my brother once,” Destry said.

  Rosie remembered how Cody’s back pain led to his addiction, and right then, she wanted pain killers too—strong ones.

  “If Tanner were here,” Jade said, “I’d tell him to carry you back. We can’t leave you here.”

  Destry didn’t hesitate to respond. “I can carry her.”

  That was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Not just because Tanner would see, but also because of what she might—no, not might—what she would feel, in spite of the pain.

  Rosie groaned.
“I can walk.” She made an attempt to straighten and gasped.

  After a minute, Jade spoke again. “Maybe Destry should carry you.”

  Rosie made another attempt to get up.

  “Let’s just try it,” Destry said. “Tell me if it hurts.”

  She felt him lifting her, cradling an arm under her knees and another behind her shoulders as she held her breath. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her back still hurt, but it felt better than it had before he picked her up. “Thank you,” she said. As he began walking, her pain faded to a dull throb, overwhelmed by the sensation she felt every time they touched—how had he put it? Like she was coming home. Like she belonged next to him.

  Jade walked beside them. “What happened to Tanner?”

  Rosie turned to face Jade and cringed, her pain thundering back into consciousness. “He went to find his water bottle.”

  Jade opened her eyes wide and stared at her, unblinking. Rosie could tell she had questions about her relationship with Tanner. Rosie had some of her own that she had been asking herself. Was Tanner mature enough for marriage? Was he simply marrying her because they had been together for so long? Would he always clam up instead of working things through? So far, she had no answers, and she didn’t want to discuss it, especially not while Destry was carrying her across the field.

  “We should talk about something that takes your mind off the pain,” he said, in a tone that made her suspect that by pain, he meant Tanner.

  Jade didn’t even pause. “It was downright sinister of the Moores not to bale your hay.” She had changed the subject, but this one was just as bad. “Are the Moore kids still giving you a hard time at school—recording your lessons and all?”

  “Yes,” Rosie said, drawing out the word.

  “I feel bad you’re going through all this trouble,” Destry said, his voice showing no sign of strain, “especially since I encouraged you to tell your students about your car accident.”

  As they walked, Jade stayed right beside Destry. “It doesn’t take much to get on the Moores’ bad side,” she said. “A few years back, they called my parents right before spring break, wanting to book some last-minute rooms at their bed and breakfast. There weren’t any rooms available, so my father apologized and told them to please try to reserve their rooms sooner next time. Well, it wasn’t a day later that three negative reviews popped up online.”