Chemistry Lessons (10 page)

Rosie woke early to a flash of lightning. She planned to get up early
anyway, seeing as how it was the first day of school for the students, a day
that still made her nervous. Rain pelted the roof. It had been raining off and
on for a week, and the river was already running high.

Last night, the town had started evacuating some of the mobile homes
near the river. Alan’s home would have been first on the list. Rosie wondered
where Farrah would take her family to stay. The married women in town knew
better than to invite Farrah to stay with them. She would flirt with any man
who stood still in her vicinity, and she’d broken up at least two marriages
because of it. Rosie hoped Destry hadn’t taken her in.

She pulled on her jeans and headed out to the kitchen where her mom was
heating Grandma’s cast iron griddle on the stove. Azalea wore a brown peasant
shirt with a necklace of wooden beads and sang some old song about islands in
the stream. She seemed a little too chipper.

“What are you doing up?” Rosie asked, eyeing some batter in a mixing
bowl. Pancakes were exactly what she’d been craving—a nice big stack like her grandma
used to make.

Azalea dropped a square of butter onto the griddle. “Mike’s supposed to
come eat breakfast with us before I go back to Albuquerque. I don’t know if he’ll
make it, though. The weather report says there’s record flooding.”

Rosie glanced toward the television set on the counter. “I wonder if
they’ll cancel the first day of school.”

“They haven’t said anything about that.”

She went to check on Grandpa. As she suspected, he was already awake.
Since his last set of X-rays, the orthopedic doctor had put him in a walking
cast and allowed him to use his walker instead of his wheelchair to get around
his bedroom. He was already dressed and trying to put a work boot on his good
foot.

“I better check on the turkeys,” he said. “Make sure their roof isn’t
leaking.” Grandpa had never been in favor of Rosie owning turkeys. The truth
was, he believed the old myth that turkeys could drown in the rain, so he got
hungry for turkey dinner every time rain hit the roof.

She shook her head. “Do you really want to take another trip to the
hospital in this storm?” She tossed Grandpa’s work boot back into the closet
and put a slipper on his good foot.

“Slippers!” he grumbled. “Next thing you know, I’ll be wearing one of
them silky nightgowns.”

“That one you wore at the hospital was real cute too,” she retorted.
She helped him into the wheelchair and pushed him to the kitchen.

Mike was coming in the front door when they arrived at the table. He
wore a long rain coat that made him look like he’d stepped out of an old
Western movie. “It’s coming down fast and furious. The roads are the worst I’ve
seen.”

“Maybe you should get going early, Rosie” her mom said. “Mike and I can
milk the cows and all that.” Rosie had only seen her mother milk a cow once. It
had been more of a yanking than a milking.

Rosie pulled on her mud boots and Grandpa’s old raincoat while Azalea
smothered Mike with kisses. He grinned. “I feel like I’ve won the lottery.”

“I’ll be back in a minute” Rosie said, opening the door, but, between
the news broadcast and the kissing, no one seemed to hear her.

Outside, rain pounded onto their gravel driveway, turning it into a
giant mud puddle. As soon as she opened the door to go outside, Cheddar came
in—a sure sign that the weather was terrible. Her cat Clementine wouldn’t be
happy about Cheddar being inside, but she didn’t have time to worry about it.
She sloshed through the puddles to check on the turkeys first. So far, there was
only a little drip in the corner of their pen. She gave them extra food, in
case, for some reason, she got stranded at the high school later on. She did
the same with the other animals.

After splashing back to the house, the smell of bacon and pancakes
greeted her. Her stomach growling, she changed into the jean skirt she’d picked
out the night before. Her mom was just putting pancakes on the table. “Come and
eat before you go.”

Rosie sat down. There was always time for pancakes and bacon. Clementine
glared up at her from under the table, hoping someone might drop a scrap of
bacon for her. Rosie wolfed down two pancakes and three strips of bacon while
Grandpa delivered a lecture on flood safety. “If the water’s too deep on the
road, go around the loop through Morrisville. And be careful when you stop. The
tires on that old car aren’t what they used to be.”

“Azalea and I can drive her,” Mike said, “if that’ll make you feel
better.”

Rosie hurried to swallow. “It won’t be the first time I’ve had to drive
in heavy rain. I can handle it. I will take Mom up on that offer to milk the
cows, though.” She stood up from the table and headed toward the stack of boxes
she had by the door. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Azalea rushed to get a plastic container from the cupboard. “Wait a
second. I’ll pack some extras for your lunch.” She put some pancakes and bacon
in the container along with a pat of butter and some syrup.

“Let me help you with the boxes,” Mike said, opening the door for her.
Unlike the other men her mom had dated, he actually seemed useful.

“Thanks.” She put the container from her mom in her oversized purse and
then slung it over her shoulder. She carried a box of beakers that had arrived
the day before out to her grandma’s old hatchback. The rain had let up, and her
cat followed her, mewing loudly. “You can’t have any bacon, you crazy cat.” She
opened the trunk and slid in the box.

She started to close the trunk door but saw that Mike was on his way
with another box. “Thank you!” she said as he slid the box into the trunk.

Azalea came out after him. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? We can
milk the cows after we get back.”

Rosie hugged her mom. “I’m sure. I hate being at the school without a
car.”

Azalea shook her head. “You always were too independent.”

Mike came back with the last box. “Just like your mother,” he said,
placing the box inside the car and then closing the door.

The rain pounded down, pelting their heads. Azalea shielded her eyes
with her hand. “Drive safely.”

“I will,” Rosie promised.

By the time she started the hatchback, she couldn’t see unless the
wipers were turned to the highest speed. She pulled onto the lane behind
Destry. Seeing him leave so early made her think he must have been nervous
about the rain—or the first day of school.

The road had enough traction, and she found herself contemplating her
plans for the day. She never knew what to expect from her students on the first
day, but there would still be bright spots. She was going to lunch with Jade.
Then, after school let out, Tanner wanted to take her ring shopping. She’d
already decided on a simple gold band. Not only would it save money, she could
leave it on while she worked around the ranch. She just didn’t care about
diamonds or fancy jewelry. It wasn’t her style.

She still wasn’t sure what kind of wedding she wanted. As she drove the
six mile stretch to the bridge, she considered the options, but she couldn’t
get excited about any of them. All she knew was that she wanted something
simple and quiet. She didn’t have time to think about decorations and menus—not
with her job, the ranch, and her grandpa’s care keeping her so busy.

Ahead of her, on the road, Destry’s brake lights lit up and he slowed
to a stop before crossing the bridge. Her windshield wipers swished back and
forth, barely keeping up with the onslaught of rain. She could just see the
outline of Destry’s head through his back window as she waited for him to drive
forward. Ahead of them, the river raged brown and frothy. It was higher than she
had ever seen it.

When Destry drove forward, she followed behind, keeping her focus on
the road ahead. The last thing she needed was another look at the angry brown
river below. She tried not to think of the man from Morrisville who had gotten
swept away in a flood three years before. They had never found his body.

Once across, she let out her breath and followed the road as it turned
parallel to the river. She’d gone less than a quarter mile when she noticed a
pool of flood water on the road ahead. It was runoff from the fields—wide and
shallow. She could see where it formed a stream on the other side of the road
and ran down another hundred yards to the river. She wasn’t going to have to
turn around for this was she? If she had to go through Morrisville, she’d be
late.

She watched, making sure Destry got through. Her hatchback was closer
to the ground than Destry’s truck. He drove slowly, with barely a splash, so
she could judge the depth of the water against his tires. It looked about a
foot deep—nothing her trusty car couldn’t handle.

After Destry got to the other side, Rosie drove in. She immediately
felt the push of the water against the wheels. It was deeper than it’d looked. She
steered toward the left, hoping the water would be shallower on the other side
of the road. It wasn’t. If anything, it was deeper. Her heart thudded. Should she
back up? No, keep going. Her foot pressed on the gas, but the harder she
pushed, the slower the car seemed to go. “Come on, car!”

Lights appeared on the dashboard. The windshield wipers halted. Rosie
put the car in park and, with shaking hands, tried restarting it. Nothing. She
was stuck in the middle of floodwaters. How could she have been so stupid?

The car drifted in the direction of the river. Panicking, Rosie shoved
her foot on the brake and switched on the hazards. What was she going to do? The
water level rose to the bottom of her door. If she got out to wade, the water
might knock her over, and she couldn’t swim in a current like this without a
life vest. She sat frozen in her seat as lightning flashed across the sky.
There was no way she was going to get out. Yet everything inside her screamed
for her to escape what might become a death trap.

As she fumbled for her phone to call 911, it began to ring. It was
Destry.

He’d shifted into reverse and was backing up. “I was going to tell you
not to go in, but you drove in before I could make the call. Are you okay?”

“I was just about to call 911.”

“No time for that. Open your window, and I’ll see if I can get close
enough for you to hop in my truck.”

“That’s a really bad idea, Destry. Both our cars could get stuck.”

It didn’t do any good to argue with him. He was already backing into
the water.

Her power windows wouldn’t work—maybe because her hands shook so much.
She forced the door open, and a few inches of flood water rushed into the car.
Gripping the top of the door, she stood with her feet on the edge of the
doorframe, the water lapping onto her ankles. A year ago, with her back still
recovering from the accident, it would have hurt to stand up that way, leaning
her body out a little from the car. Today she had no problem, except for a
little wobble in her knees.

Destry stopped his truck beside her and opened the passenger-side door.
He reached toward her. She would have to step from her hatchback to Destry’s
pickup—a distance of about three feet. Drops of rain fell into her eyes,
blurring her vision and making her clothes heavy.

She gripped Destry’s forearm and took as big a step as she could in her
jean skirt. Her legs wouldn’t reach. Stupid pencil skirt. She tried to shift
her weight back toward her car but Destry’s grip was too strong. “I’ve got ya,”
he called as she dropped one leg into the water. The current ripped her foot
out from under her before she could stand, pulling her shoe off.

Destry, leaning out of the passenger side of his truck with one foot in
the water, still had a hold on her arm, and it felt like it might rip from the
rest of her body. At the same time, the current sucked at her legs. If it weren’t
for Destry’s grip, this flood would yank her down into the raging river within
seconds. Straining against its pull, she brought one foot forward—a foot that
no longer wore a shoe—and swung her other arm toward Destry, grasping his arm
with all her might. He clasped her upper arm and, in one movement, pulled her
to stand beside him. Then, before she had time to thank him, he pushed her up
into his truck and sat down beside her on the passenger side.

Her heart pounded. Partly from fear—she could have died—and partly
because Destry still had ahold of her arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She swallowed. “Yeah. Thank you.”

He climbed over her to the driver’s side and shifted into drive. “I
better get us out of here.” He kept a hand on her arm as he steered.

Destry was protective—and she liked it. What was wrong with her? In her
whole life, she’d never been the type to play a damsel in distress. Of course,
if Tanner had been there, he probably would have done the same as Destry.

 “There should be a
Road Closed
sign here,” Destry said. “As
long as it keeps raining, it’s only going to get worse.”

Unlike Rosie’s car, Destry’s truck had no trouble getting through the
water. Once the wheels were on dry ground, he let go of her arm and parked so
the truck spanned both lanes of the road, blocking anyone from driving into the
water. “Here,” he said, handing her his phone, “you better call 911.”