Chemistry Lessons (12 page)

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 help.”

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.”

He honked, but the bull only stood there, staring at him. None of the
other animals moved either, and it was too muddy to drive on the shoulder.

“Tanner,” Rosie said into the phone, “I’ve got to go. The Bells’ cattle
are on the road to Morrisville. They must have gotten through the fence. I’ve
got to call Mr. Bell.”

She ended her call—that was a relief—and spoke to Destry. “Try driving
closer to them.”

He pulled forward until he was just a few feet from the bull. It still
didn’t budge. “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile,” he said, trying to
sound apologetic. The truth was, though, he wouldn’t mind spending extra time
with her, even if it meant being surrounded by a herd of cattle for a week.

While she called Mr. Bell, he stopped the car and gave himself complete
freedom to eavesdrop. Although this time, it would have been easier not to pay
attention.

“They’re perfectly fine,” she said. “I just worry about them being on
the road.” She listened to Mr. Bell for a while. “Okay, gotcha, well, we’ll do
our best.” She ended the call and rolled down her window. Imitating a man’s
voice, she yelled. “Ya’all get going.”