Chemistry Lessons

by Rebecca H Jamison

  He fumbled for words. “I think you must have misunderstood something I said, Dad. What I meant was that Mercedes was still hurting from her last relationship.” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice steady. Now, if he could just keep his knee from bouncing up and down under the table.

  Mercedes looked away, and Destry was sure she had figured him out. She wasn’t stupid. She glanced from him to his dad. “How long ago was this?”

  “Let’s see.” His dad tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’d say it’s been six or seven weeks.”

  That was it. Destry had to get her out of here. He took the tickets from his pocket and slid them across the table toward her. “I called in some favors and got us tickets to the Halloween ghost tour. It starts in an hour.”

  Mercedes wrinkled her nose. “A ghost tour?”

  “Oh, I’ve heard that’s fun,” his mom said. “They start at a graveyard and go through all the old places, telling ghost stories. They say Philadelphia is America’s most haunted city.”

  Mercedes shivered. “I hate graveyards.”

  Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to surprise her with a ghost tour. “Would you rather go to a masquerade ball?”

  She clutched the front of her sweater. “Anything but a ghost tour. I hate graveyards.” But Destry wondered if it was more than that. She was upset and possibly even lashing out. He’d never argued with her before. Was she the type to throw a tantrum or give him the cold shoulder? It made him realize that he didn’t know her well at all. How could he possibly consider a serious relationship with her at this point?

  He passed the tickets to his mom. “Would you and Dad like to go?”

  His mom looked to his dad, who checked his watch. “Good thing I took that nap.”

  His mom grinned, clapping her hands together. “We’d love to. Thanks, Destry.” She kissed his cheek as she left the table. “I better go get dressed.”

  At least Destry had made one woman happy tonight. Two months ago, he wouldn’t have believed he could be back home, visiting so easily with his mother, but Rosie’s art had helped break down the barriers between them. It had also helped when he told his mom he was in love. Like most women, she was a sucker for romance. He just wished she hadn’t mentioned it to Mercedes.

  Once his parents left the kitchen, he took another few bites of chicken pot pie. Mercedes wrote something on her phone. It didn’t seem likely she had already forgotten what his dad said about him being in love with an engaged woman.

  “Are you upset?” he asked.

  “No.” She clipped the word off short, but her tone was cheerful. It could mean she was fine, or it could mean she was livid.

  He ate the rest of his pot pie while Mercedes fixated on her phone, paging through recipes.

  He made another try. “Should I get us tickets to the masquerade ball?”

  She shrugged, still staring into her phone. “Funny how you never told me you loved me.”

  Destry had always believed in honesty, but he had to stay on guard, so he wouldn’t hurt her. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his trip with a woman holding a grudge. “I guess you’ve already figured out I was talking about someone else. That was before we started going out. I had already written her off by the time you and I got together.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, Mercedes paging through images on her phone. His parents came in to say goodbye before they walked out the side door to the garage, taking Mercedes’s smile with them. After their car left and the garage door closed, the sound of the grandfather clock was all that broke the silence—tock, tock, tock.

  Finally, Mercedes spoke. “Would you have brought me out here if you’d known Rosie was going to break up with Tanner?”

  Destry drew in a breath, trying to think of the right thing to say. “If you remember, I found out about their breakup on the same day I invited you.” It was a politician’s answer, one that skirted around the real issue, and he could tell from her down-turned eyes that she wasn’t going to accept it. “Rosie rejected me. I’ve moved on.”

  She put her phone down on the table and sucked in her lips as if trying to steady her emotions. “I saw how you reacted in the hospital when she said she’d broke up with Tanner. I’m not blind, Destry.”

  He stood and reached for her hands, drawing her up from the table. “Why would I want Rosie when I have a beautiful woman right here?” His heart knew he was lying but his head willed him to give her another chance as she glanced from his eyes to his lips. Taking the hint, he bent to kiss her, and for once, she seemed a perfect fit in his arms.

  Chapter 33

  The traffic in Philadelphia wasn’t as bad as Rosie had expected. She took only one street—Penrose Avenue—most of the way from her hotel to Destry’s office. On the airplane ride over, she had played out every possible scenario in her mind. She imagined walking beside colonial style houses and picket fences until she arrived at Destry’s office, where she would enter an imposing lobby. Wearing her cream-colored dress—which she chose because Destry once told her she looked great in it—she would approach the stuffy receptionist, only to be informed that Mr. Steadman was in a meeting, and she would have to wait. After an hour or two, Destry would finally appear, his eyes immediately taking her in. “You’re wondering why I’m here,” she would say.

  Advancing toward her, he would seize hold of her hand. “You’re here. That’s the important thing.”

  She would step closer. “What you said in the cemetery—about that coming home feeling. I don’t want to lose that, and I can’t let you move away, not now that I know what’s most important to me.”

  He would pull her into his arms and promise not to ever leave her side. It was certain he would kiss her then, and she would have no reason to hold back.

  Of course, there was the problem of Mercedes. Back in the cemetery, less than two months ago, Destry had told Rosie he loved her. His words had touched the happy, carefree part of herself—bringing her back to the childhood she never had, the one where dreams and hopes came true. And yet she had rejected him. How had she been so stupid?

  It was only a few weeks later that he began dating Mercedes. And now she was with him in Philadelphia. He might love Mercedes as much as he once loved Rosie, or he might love Mercedes more.

  Visiting Destry at work was probably the best way to avoid Mercedes, but Rosie could imagine her being there, hanging onto Destry’s arm in his office.

  Rosie would march right up to them. “You’re wondering why I’m here,” she would say.

  In her mind, she could see Mercedes glaring at her. “Not at all. We’ve been expecting you.”

  She wouldn’t be looking at Mercedes, though. She would stare straight into Destry’s eyes. “You once reminded me that there’s still time to do all the things we want to do. I have time for those things. I can help you build your resort and play arcade games and watch meteor showers in the middle of the night.”

  Destry wouldn’t be so rude as to break free from Mercedes’s grasp. He would use the utmost tact. “My feelings haven’t changed since we last spoke on this subject, Rosie. Unfortunately, now isn’t the best time to explore the issue.” He wouldn’t need to say more, as long as his eyes refused to stray from her face.

  Or he might be frustrated, gripping the edge of his desk. “You think coming all the way out here is going to make up for the fact that in all the time we’ve known each other, you’ve given me no reason to hope. I’ve moved on with my life, Rosie. Time has run out.”

  That scenario was the one that made her palms sweat. She wished she could know for sure that he wouldn’t reject her. Whatever happened, at least for once, she would be following her heart. She had been so busy planning what she might say that she hadn’t bothered to look up a picture of Destry’s workplace, but the closer she drove toward his company’s address, the more it wasn’t what she expected. Philadelphia seemed all asphalt and concrete, its skyline studded with skyscrapers.

  Only when s
he passed the University of Pennsylvania did she see a part of town that looked more like she imagined Philadelphia should look with its stately brick buildings. She followed the road into the hills behind the university, where she first saw the sign for Destry’s company—EternaDerm. It was also in a brick building, but this one appeared more modern with large windows and curved lines. Nestled behind trees and shrubs, it was only one-story high and extended the length of a football field.

  As she walked into the lobby, the first thing she saw was a huge screen on the wall that showed before-and-after pictures of middle-aged women. That was right. Destry once said he made his money selling wrinkle-reducers. She remembered how he wished he could do something more important with his life. That was one of the reasons he wanted to build his resort, and also one of the reasons he wanted to teach high school.

  She walked across the laminate floor to a large desk. The receptionist, a young blonde with a French braid, could have been a college student. She wore a white lab coat over jeans.

  Rosie clasped her hands. “I was wondering if I could speak to Mr. Steadman.”

  “You must be the girlfriend,” the receptionist gushed, smiling.

  “No,” Rosie answered, drawing out the word. “I’m Rosie Curtis. I really need to talk him, though.”

  The receptionist straightened in her seat and assumed a more professional manner. “Can I ask what this is concerning?”

  Rosie could feel her palms starting to sweat. “A personal matter.”

  The receptionist’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m afraid he isn’t in the office at the moment.”

  Rosie couldn’t disguise her disappointment. “Oh.” She hadn’t planned what to do if he wasn’t at the office. “Thank you.” She turned to leave.

  The receptionist called after her. “You’re not from around here, are you?” She tipped her head toward Rosie’s turquoise necklace. “Your jewelry—”

  Rosie smiled. “I’m Destry’s neighbor from Lone Spur.”

  The receptionist stood up and walked out from around her desk. “I can tell you where you can find him. He’s kayaking with Amir, our client from Mumbai. I think they’re going to end up at Bartram’s Garden.” She helped Rosie type Bartram’s Garden into her phone.

  Rosie examined the map. It seemed easy enough to get there. “Thank you. I’ll try to catch up with him there.”

  As she headed for the door, the receptionist called after her. “He didn’t say how long he would be. He only left a couple hours ago, so it might be a while.”

  She could imagine Destry spending all day on the river at this time of year with all the trees in full color. Then again, he was probably busy with his work. She needed to get there fast if she wanted to talk to him without Mercedes around.

  Driving to Bartram gardens was a little hectic with multiple turns and lane changes, but she wasn’t nervous. This was where she was supposed to be, and she was finally doing what she needed to do.

  With its winding paths, stone-walled houses and ancient trees, Bartram Gardens looked exactly like she had imagined. It was a still, cool day. Trees glowed green, gold and scarlet with their autumn foliage, filtering the sun into speckled patches on her skin. Rosie stepped off the path to hear the crunch of leaves beneath her feet as she made her way toward the Schuylkill River.

  Hidden behind trees, the river was so wide, she could never sling a rock across it. No wonder Destry hadn’t worried too much about water rights, growing up with this nearby. She thought back to the day they met—what he must have thought of her when she marched up and shut off his sprinklers. And yet he had followed her back to help irrigate her fields.

  Scanning the river up and downstream, she saw no sign of a kayak, so she walked down the footpath, hoping to find someone who might know where kayakers tended to come ashore.

  Beyond a crop of trees, she heard ducks quacking and soon saw the source of all the noise. A white-haired woman with two children stood feeding corn to the ducks. Rosie stepped over the children’s bikes and dug in her purse for a butter cookie she’d gotten on the airplane. She threw a few crumbs of it toward the ducks.

  “Want to use some of our corn?” the boy asked, extending an old cookie tin full of dried corn. He looked about ten years old. “Grandma wants me to get rid of it before we go home.”

  Rosie held up the rest of her cookie. “No thanks, I wasn’t going to eat this anyway.”

  “That junk’s bad for the ducks,” he replied. He was right. Rosie should have known better than to feed cookies to birds.

  She smiled and pointed to the picture of cookies on the front of his container. “But you don’t mind eating junk yourself.”

  “I ain’t no duck,” the boy said. “People food makes them sick.”

  The grandma shook her head in amusement. “You’re welcome to use some of our duck food.”

  Rosie dropped the cookie back into her purse and helped herself to a handful of corn. “I wouldn’t want them to get sick.” She knelt as a few mallards approached to eat from her hand. Their feathers glowed purple and green in the sunlight. “I’m hoping to meet a friend here,” she said to the grandma. “He’s been kayaking, and I’m not sure where he’ll come ashore. You wouldn’t happen to know where I might look for him?”

  The grandma pointed downriver, her other hand shielding her eyes from the sun. “There’s a dock down at the other end of the park.” She eyed Rosie’s heels. “It’s a ways away, past the boardwalk.”

  Nestled as they were among the trees, Rosie bent to look past the branches. She couldn’t see far enough downriver to know what the woman meant, but she got the general idea. “Thank you,” she said, tossing a handful of corn into the shallow water at the edge of the river. As she did so, she noticed two kayakers about a hundred yards away toward the middle of the river. With all the trees around her, she hadn’t seen them coming. She threw the rest of her corn onto the water and tented her eyes with her hands, trying to distinguish whether one of the kayakers might be Destry. From this distance, all she could tell was that they both appeared to have dark hair. She raised her hand and gave a fluttery wave of her fingers. One of the men did a double take and quit paddling for a few seconds, staring back at her as he did so.

  “Destry!” she shouted. “It’s me, Rosie.”

  He was too far away to hear her.

  She waited for him to paddle his kayak over her way. Instead, he floated past until the trees once again obscured her view of him.

  She thanked her new friends for the duck food. Then, wishing she’d thought to bring a different pair of shoes, she took off down the path, running as fast as she could in her heels. This didn’t seem real—running in heels with huge trees and bushes all around her. Everything here was so overgrown. Without being able to see more than fifty yards down the winding path, she ran until she came to a boardwalk that took her over the swampy ground.

  It was the first time she had run since she hurt her back, and it was already starting to pinch a little in her lumbar region, but she had to catch Destry before he left the park. The woman had said the dock was at the other end—maybe half a mile away. Before she hurt her back, she could have run that in six or seven minutes. Now she wasn’t sure how long it would take.

  Blisters were already forming on the back of her heels, but she didn’t want to get splinters from the boardwalk either. Once she was back on the asphalt, she stopped to take off her shoes. A man on a bicycle came around the bend, yelling, “Passing on your—”

  She stepped to the left, trying to get out of the man’s way, but he swerved in the same direction. Then, trying to avoid hitting her, he turned even more to the left, running right into a ditch and falling headfirst over the top of his handlebars into the muck. His bike crashed down on top of him.

  She froze, gaping at him from the side of the ditch. “I’m so sorry.”

  Wearing tight-fitting spandex shorts and a bright-colored biking shirt, he looked to be about fifty with graying hair and a paunchy midd
le. She hoped he hadn’t broken anything. “Stay on the right,” the man yelled, trying to get out from under his bike, which lay on its side on top of him. “You’re supposed to stay on the right on the bike trail. I’m supposed to pass on your left.”

  “I didn’t know that. I’ve never been on a bike trail before.” She hadn’t even known it was a bike trail. It looked like a sidewalk to her. Not that she knew much about sidewalks either. She eased herself down the embankment, trying not to hurt her back as she pulled the bike off of the man. In doing so, she scraped the pedal across his nose.

  “Ouch!” he cried as the pedal spun toward his eye.

  She took care to lift the back end of the bike so it wouldn’t touch him.

  The expression on his face reminded her of a bull about to charge. Only there was no way he could charge, lying on his back in the putrid water.

  The boy who had been feeding ducks rode up to her on his bike. “You need me to call an ambulance for him?”

  Rosie shook her head. “No, but I might need one if he doesn’t calm down.” She wasn’t sure what the protocol would be for this type of incident. It wasn’t like they could exchange insurance information. She laid his bike carefully in the grass. “I’m very sorry,” she said in the calm, clear tone she might use on an angry bull. “I was hurrying to catch up with a kayaker because I’m in love with him. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” She offered the man a hand up.

  He refused her help and got up on his own. “Lucky guy,” the man said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  Once he stood before her, she saw a deep gash in his chin. Rosie bit her bottom lip and gestured toward his face. “It looks like you might need stitches.”

  Without thinking, the man reached up with his muddy hand.

  She grabbed his wrist. “Let me find something a little more sterile.”

  “You sure I shouldn’t call 911?” the boy asked. His grandmother was coming up on them now, following the little girl as she rode her scooter.