Chemistry Lessons (9 page)

Tanner sat beside Rosie on the sofa. “I intended to do just that last
night, but you were in the hospital. May I ask your permission now?”

Uncle Jeff shook his head and scowled. He walked out of the room,
pulling out his phone as he left.

“I suppose it’s better late than never,” Grandpa said. “Go ahead. I’d
like to hear what qualifies you to marry my favorite granddaughter.”

Tanner put his arm around Rosie. “I have a good job, and I love her.”

“So you love her.” Grandpa stared at Rosie. He’d always been able to
read her expression so easily, like a weatherman reading the clouds. “That
qualifies you to ask for her hand?”

“So I have your permission?” Tanner asked.

The old man closed his eyes and rubbed his bald spot. “I’m tuckered
out. Can you push me to my room, Rosie?”

Tanner stood. “I can do it.”

“No,” Grandpa said. “I want Rosie to.”

She knew what it meant. He wanted to talk to her and only her. “I’ll be
back in a minute.” She rose from the sofa, released the brake on the
wheelchair, and turned it back toward the hallway. The wheels caught on Grandma’s
area rugs, but she pushed on, struggling to turn down the hallway. “Do you want
some help?” Tanner asked.

She knew that was the last thing Grandpa wanted. “I’m fine.” She pushed
Grandpa into his bedroom, a place that bore her grandma’s mark. Matching red
Hawaiian flower prints adorned the curtains and bedspread.

“Close the door please,” Grandpa ordered.

She clicked the door shut, fully aware that Tanner would still be able
to hear Grandpa’s voice. She opened a drawer in the bureau to pull out a pair
of pajamas. “I know what you’re going to say,” she began but stopped when she
saw tears in the old man’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat. “Do you love him?”

She laid his pajamas on the bed. “Grandpa, he’s my best friend. Haven’t
you always said I should marry my best friend?” She walked to the little
bathroom and opened the door.

“I asked if you love him.” His voice demanded a straight answer.

She entered the bathroom to collect his toothbrush from the medicine
cabinet and place it beside the sink. “I love him as much as I’m capable of
loving a man.”

Grandpa shook his head. “Love’s important. Sometimes it’s all you’ve
got to survive on.”

She cocked her head and looked at him. Was this the wisdom of an old
man or the ramblings of someone going senile? It was obvious from the pale tone
of his skin that the day had been too much for him. What had her uncle been
thinking to call in a real estate agent on the day after Grandpa broke two
bones?

The old man fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. “These darned
button-holes are too tight.”

“I’ll help you.” She removed the sling and unbuttoned his shirt for him.
The skin on his arms hung loose where muscles had once been. Carefully, she
slipped his sore arm into the sleeve of his pajamas. It wasn’t hard for her to
love this man, not after all he’d done for her. She kissed the top of his head.
“You’re the one who taught me to love. You and Grandma.”

“Love is about more than taking care of someone or something,” Grandpa
muttered. “It’s finding the one who makes you happy. Are you happy with him,
Rosie?”

She didn’t know how to answer. Did Tanner make her happy? She reached
to do the buttons on Grandpa’s pajamas, but he pushed her hand away and stared
at her another long moment. “I can do the rest myself.”

Classroom policies and lesson plans filled Destry’s mind, distracting
him from fields that needed irrigating and fences that needed mending. The
construction crews had arrived a week late and were preparing to lay the
foundation in the field beside his house. With the first day of school only a
week away, he sprinted along as if on the last mile of a marathon—trying to
complete all his lesson plans and following up with the contractors. He’d
forgotten about his appointment until he heard a car pull into his gravel
driveway.

Alan Erskine was exactly what he expected. Wearing a faded Dr. Pepper
T-shirt and torn jeans, Alan was so tall, he had to duck to get through the
front door. He wore his hair down low over his eyes and only brushed it away
occasionally to look Destry in the face. Destry smelled a hint of cigarette
smoke and perhaps an even fainter scent of strong liquor, but he seemed sober
enough. His muscles were soft, unused to physical labor—that too was what
Destry had expected. What he didn’t expect was for a woman to follow Alan into
the front room and plop down on the leather couch.

Maybe it was the skimpy black dress or the gauges in her ears, but she
hardly looked old enough to be Alan’s mother. She couldn’t be Alan’s
girlfriend, could she?

He held out a hand to her. “I’m Destry Steadman.”

The woman took it with her elaborately manicured hand and smiled. “I’m
Farrah, Alan’s mom.”

“It’s a pleasure,” he said. “I’m glad you came along.”

Farrah crossed her legs, her skirt slipping a little higher on her
thigh. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s with all the machinery? Are you
planning to build a bigger house?”

He gathered a file from the kitchen counter and sat across from her. “Not
a house. A resort to help people recover from drug addictions.”

Farrah wrinkled her nose. “Like the Betty Ford Clinic?”

Destry motioned for Alan to sit down beside his mom. “Yes, but on a
much smaller scale. We plan to open next summer.”

She blew a bubble with her chewing gum and then popped it. “Huh.”

“It’ll be a retreat for people who have already been through rehab,” he
explained. He placed a piece of paper on the coffee table in front of Alan. His
previous experience hiring teenagers had taught him to set clear and simple
expectations. The paper listed them: Be here at 3:30 every afternoon. Be sober.
Work your hardest. Tell me if you can’t come or if you need help. Work until
6:30.

Destry read through the list and then asked, “Do you think you can do
that?”

Alan nodded without taking his eyes from the paper.

“I’m also looking for someone to help irrigate twice in the mornings if
you’re available before school starts.”

“He’s available,” Farrah said.

Destry ignored her, waiting for a response from her son. None came. He
couldn’t have an employee avoiding eye contact all the time. It seemed too
slave-like. He motioned toward the door. “Why don’t we go outside and I’ll
teach you how to groom the horse.” He grabbed the bucket of apples as he headed
out the door.

Alan glanced up, just for a second. “You have a horse?”

“His name’s Orion. He likes apples.” Destry stepped out onto the front
porch. Although rain clouds hovered overhead, it was a hot, dry afternoon, and
he was tired from waking up at 4 a.m. to irrigate before heading into work. How
did other ranchers deal with the exhaustion? Did it get better, or were they
always tired?

He almost didn’t notice the little piles of dirt on the hood of his
BMW. But with Farrah two steps behind them, he couldn’t help it. “Don’t tell me
Brittany’s been putting dirt on your car. Brittany!” Farrah shouted.

No one answered.

Farrah put her hands to her hips. “Brittany!” When no one responded,
she shook her head. “That girl!”

 He wasn’t worried about a little dirt on his car. He left Farrah
behind to look for her daughter and walked toward the field where he kept
Orion. “I’m going to hire a trainer, so he might want to groom the horse when
he’s here. But when he’s not, I’d like you to help me do it. I’ve got to warn
you, though, he’s no good to ride yet.”

A slight smile appeared on Alan’s lips. “Sounds good.”

They turned the corner around the side of the barn, and there in front
of them was the field where he kept Orion. The gate was open. He scanned the
field. Orion wasn’t anywhere in sight. Had someone stolen his horse? It took
thirty agonizing seconds for him to run at full speed across the field to the
horse stalls on the other side. He arrived to find no horse, only a little girl
with dark pigtails, leaning against the wall of Orion’s stall. The little brat
had just let his horse loose. She wore a glittery pink T-shirt that said “Future
Diva.” That was for sure. He spoke through clenched teeth. “You must be
Brittany.”

She picked up a piece of straw to add to a bouquet in her hands. “I don’t
talk to strangers.”

Alan came jogging up behind Destry, completely out of breath. “Did you
open the gate, Brittany?”

She didn’t answer.

“Mom told you to stay in the car.”

Destry’s mouth hung open. What kind of mom would make her kid stay in
the car on a ninety-degree day?

Brittany put her hands on her hips, just the way her mother had. “It’s
hot in the car.”

“Did you see which way the horse went?” Destry asked.

She walked out of the stall and pointed straight down the driveway. “That
way.”

“Which way did he turn when he got to the lane?”

She pointed toward the Curtis ranch.
Of course
, Destry thought.
Orion
had to turn toward the Curtis ranch
. Then he realized that finding Orion at
the Curtis ranch wouldn’t be the worst thing. The worst would be if Orion ran
all the way to the highway. That was the last thing Destry needed—for his horse
to get hit by a car.

He grabbed his phone and found Rosie’s number as walked back across the
field. “You stay with Brittany,” he yelled to Alan. Maybe Rosie had been right
about hiring Alan. He might be more trouble than he was worth—at least if he
brought his mother and sister along with him every time.

Rosie didn’t answer her phone, so he left a message.

As he ran to his car, Farrah came from the other side of the house. “I
can’t find Brittany.”

“She’s over in the field. She let my horse out.”

Farrah’s nostrils flared. “She did what?”

“Do you mind coming with me to find him? Someone will need to drive my
car back.”

He normally avoided women like Farrah the way he avoided deep-fried Oreos
and get-rich-quick schemes. But right now, he helped her into the passenger
seat of his BMW, glad to have her along. Without speaking, he got in, started
the car, and drove to the end of the driveway. It was barely four o’clock and
the sun still shone high in the sky. On the other side of the fence, Rosie’s
cows crowded under the shade of a Cottonwood tree, munching on grass. In the
distance, he saw her Shetland ponies.

Farrah made an effort to pull her short skirt down to the middle of her
thigh. “I hear Rosie and Tanner are planning a Christmas wedding.”

He didn’t expect the sudden heaviness that filled his chest. Though
they’d spent the last three days working together, Rosie hadn’t said anything
to him about getting married this December. He tried to keep his voice casual. “Oh,
yeah? I hadn’t heard.”

“I think it’s a new trend—women marrying younger men. It makes sense.
Men die younger, and women are having children older. Might as well even things
out.”

Tiffany had been older than him. It hadn’t been an advantage, unless he
considered it a plus that she’d trained him how to remodel a bathroom. Being an
older woman, she owned two houses, including a 100-year-old monstrosity that
she had expected him to help her fix up. Toward the end, he’d spent almost
every weekend laying tile or working on plumbing. He should have spent that
time helping Cody get off drugs.

He glanced sideways at Farrah. He guessed she was about his age. If she’d
had Alan when she was sixteen or seventeen, she’d be about thirty-three or so.
Any younger man she dated might only be a few years older than Alan. Destry
couldn’t let her go on, thinking that kind of stepdad was a good idea. “Older
men tend to make better dads,” he said, “at least in my experience.”

“Are you flirting with me, Destry?” she asked, her pitch rising.

“No.” He slowed as they came to the end of the Curtises’ driveway. “Just
offering some feedback.”

 At the end of the driveway, Orion stood near Rosie’s llama. He couldn’t
miss the bold black and white color of the horse’s coat against the golden
grass. As he turned into the driveway, he saw that Rosie stood behind the
horse, holding onto his halter. Rosie’s friend, Jade, was there too, wearing
her sparkly jeans.

Before he exited the car, he turned to Farrah. She wore the highest
heels he’d ever seen in his life, and he wasn’t sure anyone could drive in
shoes like that. “Do you mind driving my car home?”

She smiled. “Are you kidding? I’d love to. I’ve never even sat in a BMW
before.”

He left the keys in the ignition. “Tell Alan I’ll be back in ten
minutes or so.” He wiped his sweaty palms on the side of his pants and stepped
out to see Rosie. He wanted to make the excuse of Brittany opening the gate,
but he didn’t want it to seem like he couldn’t control things on the ranch.

He watched as Farrah pealed away in his car and then approached the two
women. “Sorry about this. It seems my horse gets along better with llamas than
I do.”

Jade nodded in Rosie’s direction. “Actually, there’s another
attraction.”

“So he likes Rosie?” He looked at Rosie holding the lead to his horse.
As usual, her hair glowed golden in the sunlight. “I can’t blame him for that.”

He watched the color in Rosie’s cheeks change to a deeper pink. “No,”
Rosie protested. “He likes my daisies.” She held up a single daisy in her hand.

“What daisies?” He looked around. “Don’t tell me he ate them all.”

Rosie smiled and ran her hand down the horse’s mane. “They’ll grow back
in a few weeks. Daisies do that.” It was a good thing she could be so forgiving
with animals.

“Alan’s little sister opened the gate,” he explained. “I didn’t even
know she’d come along.”

Rosie lifted her eyes to the sky. “Brittany will do anything to get her
mom’s attention.”

“I noticed,” he said.

Jade laughed. “And Farrah will do anything to get a man’s attention.”

“Then there’s Gertie here,” he said, not daring to look in the llama’s
direction. “She’s not quite as fond of me.”

Rosie cocked her head. “Gertie?”

“Gertie, the llama,” he said. “It’s short for regurgitation.”

 Rosie chuckled. “I wish I’d thought of that one. We call her Maya.”

He felt a sort of triumph in getting Rosie to laugh and blush all in
the same conversation. Then, he chided himself. She was an engaged woman, after
all. There was no use even trying. He reached for the lead Rosie had attached
to Orion’s halter, brushing his hand against hers in the process. “I’ll bring
your lead back tonight after I’m through with Alan.”

Rosie leaned against the fence. “You mean after you’re through with
Alan, and his mom, and his little sister.”

He watched the dust trail from where Farrah drove his BMW down the
lane. “Maybe you were right about me hiring Alan.”

“No, I was wrong, Destry. Alan needs you.” Amusement danced in Rosie’s
eyes. “I think you even have what it takes to handle Farrah.”

He wasn’t at all sure what she meant by that. Farrah was desperate,
that was clear. She had a reputation. And in Lone Spur, reputation was
everything. Associating with her might even damage his chances for success.
But, as much as he wanted to gain the trust of the townspeople, he couldn’t
ignore Alan’s needs. He’d come here to help people after all. He couldn’t let
himself get distracted from that goal, the way he had so many times before.

He recalled the last Christmas before Cody died. He’d intended to buy
presents. Instead, he worked nights at the warehouse, trying to get orders
shipped out on time. Then he spent Christmas day exhausted with Tiffany’s
family—wearing a tie and chatting about the stock market. By the time he
reached his parents’ house, Cody was heading out the door. With pain, Destry
remembered the hollow look in his eyes.

No, that was the last time he would let his business goals get in the
way of helping someone. Alan deserved his help, whether or not it damaged
Destry’s reputation.