Chemistry Lessons (18 page)

After school, Rosie walked to Destry’s classroom, where he sat on top
of his lab table. Five students had lingered after school to talk to him. That
was one thing she had noticed since school started—Destry always had a crowd
around him, and he seemed to attract the at-risk students.

She waited while he told the teens about his experience running an
Ironman marathon in Hawaii. It must have been a triathlon-type thing, because
it involved swimming in monstrous waves and bicycling up the side of a volcano.
He showed them a scar on his arm where he’d hit a rock.

She was staring at the star-shaped scar when he looked up and saw her. “Oh,
hey Rosie, er Ms. Curtis. Is it time to go home?” He stood up and turned to the
students. The bruise on his upper lip had faded and the swelling on his nose
had gone away. He looked like his old self. “I guess that’s all for study
group. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The students scattered. “How’s it going?” he
asked.

 “Fine.” There it was again—that teenage crush sensation that tingled
along her skin and made her forget what she had planned to say. She kept her
arms straight at her sides, trying to take on a more professional appearance.

Destry went to his desk at the front of the classroom and started
packing his laptop into his leather briefcase. “I’ve been meaning to tell you
about StainMaster. He’s like a new dog. The antibiotics have healed his eye
problems. Plus, he changed color after I gave him a bath.”

“What color is he?”

“Light grey. You should come see him.”

She did want to come see the dog. There was nothing that made her as
happy as seeing that kind of transformation in an animal. Now that she was
here, though, she needed to introduce the topic of selling the land. If she
didn’t talk to him about it now, she might never get up the courage. She
approached his desk. “I have a proposition for you.”

He set down the briefcase and raised his eyebrows, his lips crooking
into a smile.

Maybe
proposition
wasn’t the right word. She rolled her eyes. “I
meant a business proposition. Do you remember how you once said you’d like to
buy my grandpa’s ranch?”

“Sure.” He moved closer to her, lowering his voice. “But I’m not going
to get in your way if you want to buy it.”

She remembered how it had felt when she hugged him on the day of the
flood, and the warm, tingling sensation returned. Her heartbeat thudded in her
ears, and she reached to touch the engagement ring on her hand. “Tanner applied
for a loan to buy the land, but he can’t qualify to buy the whole thing without
a bigger down payment. I thought maybe my grandfather could sell part of the
land to you . . . if you’re still interested.”

Destry shook his head and looked away for a second before he returned
her gaze. “As much as I want the land, I care about you too much to take it.”

Rosie froze. That wasn’t what she had expected him to say at all. He
cared
.
Even after Tanner punched him out. Something caught in her throat. She
swallowed and forced herself to return to the topic. “But there’s no other way
I can buy the land.”

He stared at her with wide eyes as if he could read her thoughts. She
hoped he couldn’t. She could feel the heat rising to her face. That was all she
needed, for Destry to see her blushing.

“Let’s think about it some more,” he said. “We can find a better
solution for you.”

She sank into a student’s chair and clasped her hands. She needed to
focus on getting the ranch. “Please, say yes. It’s what I want.”

 Destry crouched beside her. “Let’s give it another week.” It sounded
like a rejection, but his wide eyes and soft gaze offered hope.

She would have preferred a definite answer. “Okay.”

He looked at her for a moment longer and then stood. “I should probably
tell you how my classes have been going.”

“Yes.” She had skimmed through the lesson plans he e-mailed. They were
the kind of lesson plans she could have created herself if she only had more
money. And that was a problem—he seemed to be spending way too much of his own
money.

He leaned against his lab table. “I’m sorry if it’s been a little
noisy. My chemistry students liked the periodic table tag more than I thought
they would.”

At least the tag game probably hadn’t required any extra expense. “I
didn’t hear anything.” She glanced around the classroom. A long wooden ramp ran
along the wall. “Is that the race track you used to teach about acceleration?”

“Come see it.” His voice brightened. “Alan helped me build it.”

“Huh. Good for him.” She followed him to the ramp, which consisted of a
rubber conveyer belt on a wooden frame. “How much did this cost?”

He shrugged. “Not much. Alan used discarded materials. I just paid him
for his labor.” He pointed to a cardboard box full of Matchbox cars. “Do you
want to race? Pick a car.”

She picked the biggest car she could find—a flatbed truck. “I’m
concerned that you might be spending too much money—setting the students up to
expect more than what teachers are allotted to spend.”

Destry plucked a fire engine from the box and then paused. “I see your
point. I’ll try to keep to a budget.”

They placed their trucks behind a lever at the top of the track. He
flipped a switch to release the cars, and they plunged downward. From the
beginning, his truck had an edge, and it continued to outpace hers, finishing a
full second before the flatbed.

She reached for the fire engine. “What did you do to it?”

He snatched it away, holding it behind his back and grinning. “We’ll
have to race again tomorrow. What do you say?”

Rosie grabbed for his arm. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I just want to see how
heavy it is.”

He laughed. “I’m afraid it’s a trade secret.” He walked to the front of
the classroom and opened his desk drawer to put the toy inside. Rosie reached him
just as he shut the drawer. “I’m your mentor teacher. You have to show me that fire
engine.” It wasn’t at all professional of her. He had every right to keep a
secret.

He turned the key in the lock and wiggled his eyebrows. “Isn’t it about
time we were going home? We both have a lot of work to do.” It was the first
time she’d ever heard him talk about having a lot of work, and it felt like a
game. He grabbed his briefcase and headed for his classroom door.

As they walked down the hall, he pulled the truck from his pocket and
handed it to her. He had only pretended to put it in the drawer. She laughed. “You
tricked me.” They passed Mercedes Santiago, the school secretary, as they
approached the front doors of the school.

“Oh, Destry,” she called out, chasing after them. “I copied the recipe
for those cookies you liked.” She placed a square of lavender cardstock in
Destry’s hand. Mercedes was one of those crafty women who made everything look
good. Her house could probably qualify for a spread in
Better Homes and
Gardens
magazine.

While he thanked her, Rosie felt the weight of the Matchbox car in her
hand. It was much heavier than it should have been. After Mercedes left, Rosie
asked, “What did you put in this?”

He held the door open for her. “We used fishing weights,” he said. “It
was Alan’s idea.”

She estimated how much the ramp and cars had cost as they walked out
into the sun. It was more than she had in her budget.

His truck stood alone on the far side of the parking lot. Most of the
other teachers had already left. He had to move a box of stuff off the front
seat and onto the floor before she could get in. She couldn’t help looking at
its contents after she climbed into her seat. It looked like a teacher’s
confiscation pile from thirty years earlier. There was a wind-up monkey, two
remote control cars, a package of water balloons, some Ping-Pong balls, three
tins of breath mints, and a u-shaped piece of metal attached to some tubing.

“Is that a slingshot?” she asked as Destry pulled out of the parking
lot. She had always wanted to use a slingshot.

“Yeah.” He didn’t seem at all worried.

“You could get in a lot of trouble for having that in your truck. It
could be considered a weapon, and you have it out in plain sight.”

He glanced her way as he drove. “This from a woman who owns a coyote.”
Rosie continued to look at the slingshot as they turned onto the road where her
car had washed away. “You can pick it up now. We’re off school property.”

Had she been that obvious? “I’ve never used one before.” She slipped
her hand into the slingshot, gripping the plastic handle and stretching out the
rubber tubing.

“I was going to use it to teach about acceleration, but then I thought
better of it.”

She laughed. “It’s a good thing you did.”

As they reached the place where Rosie’s car had stalled in the
floodwater, they both grew silent. Destry pulled his truck to the side of the
road.

“Why are you stopping?” she asked, wondering whether to tell him that
the police still hadn’t found her car.

“To make a better memory.” He took the slingshot from her hand and stepped
out his door.

She had better things to do, but she couldn’t resist. After he opened
her door, she followed him down the hill to the bank of the river. Since the flood,
there had been no rain. The mud had dried to dusty pink clay. He bent to pick
up a pebble. Then he enclosed it in the leather sling, stretched the tubing,
and shot. They watched as it landed across the river in a puff of dust. “Your
turn,” he said, handing the slingshot to Rosie.

She copied Destry as best she could, picking up a pebble, folding the
leather sling around it in a tight pinch, and holding the slingshot out with
her arm straight.

 “Let me show you something,” he said. He stood behind her and reached around
her to adjust her hand. “Rest this part on your forearm. Hold it straight in
front of you. Pull back as hard as you can with your fingers on both sides of
the leather.”

He didn’t look that large, but his chest and arms seemed so substantial
next to her.

He carried the smell of laundry detergent—a smell she preferred over
the heavy scent of men’s cologne. “You can figure out how to aim once you’ve
practiced a little more,” he said.

 She released the sling and the rock shot through the air, landing with
a plop in the middle of the river. “Let me try again. I think I’ve almost got
the hang of it.”

She picked up another pebble. This time she aimed, tilting the
slingshot toward the horizon. When she released her grip, the pebble landed in
the sand all the way across the river. It felt good to fling something that
far. She tried again, aiming higher. “This one’s for the angry parent who
called Principal Moore about my biology assignment.” She let go, and the rock
flew to the opposite bank.

She tried a smaller rock. “This one’s for having to leave Grandpa with
only Betty to look after him. At least he has someone. I shouldn’t feel so
guilty about it.” It landed with a plop in some mud on the other side.

She tried a bigger rock. “This one’s for the fence I haven’t mended.”
That one didn’t go quite as far.

She tried another small, round one. “And this is what I think of
selling five hundred acres.” She shot with all her strength, and the rock
landed in the dust on the opposite bank.

Over and over, she fought against the strength of the rubber tubing,
shooting the rocks farther and farther. With each release, the worries of the
day flew from her fingers.

Destry stood beside her, handing her rocks, one by one, his smile
widening with each successful launch. “Why don’t you keep this slingshot?” he
said. “I have another at home.”

“Oh, thank you, but it’s so addicting, I’d better not. I appreciate you
teaching me how, though. This was just what I needed.” She handed it back to
Destry. As fun as it was to be around him, it wasn’t appropriate to keep
accepting his favors.

 There was something so free about him, as if he did everything for
pure enjoyment. She could never be like that—not with all the things she had to
do.

“Well, come borrow it whenever you want,” he said.

“I will.” She looked at her watch. It was 4:30. “How long have we been
here?”

“About twenty minutes.”

She slapped her hand to her mouth. What was it about being around him
that made her forget all her responsibilities? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take
so much of your time.”

 “It’s okay. That was the most fun I’ve had since our arcade game last
week.” Destry pocketed the remaining rocks.

“Why are you saving those rocks?” She giggled. It wasn’t like Lone Spur
had a shortage of rocks.

He patted his pocket and gave her a confident grin. “For the next time
we do this.”

It was safer not to ask why he thought there would be a next time. “We
better get back.” She attempted to walk back up the hill beside the river, but
the dirt was so soft that her sandaled feet slipped half-way back down with
each step.