Chemistry Lessons (26 page)

Rosie sat behind the barn, milking her cow, Dolly. Now that she didn’t
need to plan a wedding or record her purchases on Tanner’s spreadsheet, she
didn’t have to rush from one animal to the next. Behind them, the sun sank into
the West, tinting the sky orange. With her forehead resting against Dolly’s
side, she listened to the pshhh, pshhh of milk streaming into the bucket. Her
back felt better today, making the chore more relaxing than it had been for the
last few days, and her mind drifted again to her conversation with Destry that
afternoon.
What were the words he had used
?
Defend your honor.

Smiling at the memory, she heard footsteps near the corner of the barn,
and she turned to see Tanner, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a Western shirt.
He removed his baseball cap. “I owe you an apology.”

Guessing that meant he had talked to Destry, she put her forehead back
on Dolly and returned to milking. “You’ve got that right.” Out of the corner of
her eye, she could see his dusty, unpolished boots approaching. MooDonna, the
other cow, moaned beside them, waiting her turn.

“I was wrong to call off the wedding. I should have trusted you. Can
you forgive me?” His words hung in the air, waiting for a reply.

“I forgive you,” she said without
looking up.

“I want to give things another
chance.” His boots stepped closer, and she felt him run a hand through her
ponytail. “The town hall meeting starts in a few minutes. I was thinking we
could go together.”

She kept her face toward Dolly. “This
is sooo not romantic, Tanner.”

“You want romance, huh? That’s a
change.” He moved his hand to her cheek, attempting to turn her face toward
his. “How about this? I can’t stand to live my life without you.”

It was a nice try, but after what
he had said on Saturday, it wasn’t enough. She’d had too much time to think,
and things weren’t the same anymore. She kept her head down and stared at the
dust beneath her feet. “Do you really love me, Tanner? Or is it a matter of
convenience . . . that we’ve dated so long, it would be too much effort to find
someone else?”

 “I love you.” Tanner checked his
watch. “Will you please give me another chance?”

“I’m thinking,” she said. She made
him wait while she finished milking Dolly and went on to milk MooDonna. She had
felt relieved to be single again. That couldn’t be a good sign. A bride shouldn’t
feel burned out on love before she even made it to the altar.

Tanner leaned against the side of
the barn and put his baseball cap back on. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad
about that line in my note.”

Trying not to hurt his feelings,
she spoke in soft tones. “It’s more than that.”

“You were right,” he said, ignoring
Rosie’s comment. “I
was
lazy to copy that line, but you know how it is
being a teacher—it’s hard to find time to think.”

She stopped milking to look at him.
“That’s the thing, Tanner. People in love don’t need to find time to think
about each other. They can’t help thinking about each other.” The way she
couldn’t stop thinking of Destry.

Tanner took her hand. “And I
haven’t
stopped thinking about you for the past four days. I miss the sound of your
voice, and I worry about you doing all the chores with your back hurt. In fact,
why don’t you let me finish up the milking?”         

She stood and gestured for him to
take her place. “Be my guest.”

Only he didn’t take her place. He
reached for her other hand and pulled her toward him. “Destry said I was a fool
to think there was anything going on between you two. Sorry for jumping to the
wrong conclusion.”

She caught a whiff of his spearmint
gum and stepped back. “He called you a fool?” Tanner was smart to be jealous.
She did have feelings for Destry. She had even acted on them once, and as if
that kiss wasn’t enough of a betrayal, she had replayed it hundreds of times in
her mind.

He stepped closer, taking her into
his arms. “He also told me I should take you someplace other than Vegas for our
honeymoon, someplace with wildlife.”

She giggled. Destry knew her so
well.

Tanner went on, explaining. “He
said you’re completely loyal to me, and that he’s loyal to Mercedes.”

Loyal to Mercedes? She swirled
around to face him and then tried to hide her disappointment. In her state of
distraction, she didn’t realize Tanner was moving in for a kiss. His lips
pressed against hers, strong and minty—typical for Tanner, but it didn’t force
her feelings back in line with his. “Will you take me back?” he asked. “Please?”

It would have been the practical
thing for Rosie to accept his offer. He was pre-approved to buy the ranch, and
she knew he would make a respectable husband. But since the breakup, she had
spent most of her time thinking of someone else. “I think it’s better if we go
back to being friends,” she said.

He searched her eyes in disbelief,
his mouth working, his eyebrows pulled down into a frown. He’d obviously
expected a different answer. After a few seconds he bowed his head in defeat.  “Okay.”
Then, with a forced smile, he said. “But I’m not giving up yet.”

He sat down on the stool and went
to work milking MooDonna. It seemed to Rosie that he milked with too much coercion,
and it took longer than usual to fill the bucket. MooDonna preferred a gentle
touch.

After they poured the milk into jugs that Grandpa saved for families in
need, she agreed to drive with Tanner to the town hall meeting, not so much
because she had something to say, but more out of curiosity to see what Destry
would say.

They drove in Tanner’s truck with his laptop on the seat between them.
Tanner left the radio off this time, so they drove to the sound of his smacking
gum. As annoying as it was, Rosie said nothing until they reached the
overcrowded high school parking lot. “What’s with all the cars? Is there a game
tonight?”

Tanner shrugged. “You ought to know. You’re the one who works here.”

She had never been to a town meeting, and, once they parked and went
inside, it surprised her to see so many people crowded into the auditorium. The
place was so full that she and Tanner had to stand, and it didn’t take long for
her back to start aching.

She counted many of her neighbors and students in attendance. Surely,
these people had better things to do than attend a town meeting. What did they
think Destry was going to do? Start his own drug cartel?

At the front of the auditorium, Destry stood alone, wearing a suit and
tie. “My lawyer tells me I don’t need the citizens of Lone Spur to approve of
my plans.” His voice reverberated through the hall. “I disagree. If I’m going
to be successful, I need your approval. A retreat is a place to get away from
negative emotions.”

Rosie cringed. Where was the fight in Destry’s speech? He needed fire
to win over this crowd. She recalled something he had said while they were
baling hay—that if it hadn’t been for her, he would have resigned from
teaching. Anxious to show her support, she maneuvered her way along the side of
the auditorium until she stood left of the stage. From there, she could see
Farrah and Mercedes sitting on the front row, an empty seat between them.
Farrah had dressed in something black that almost looked like a business suit
while Mercedes wore a soft pink chiffon blouse with white slacks.

Tanner caught up to Rosie after a minute. “With all this opposition, we’re
not going to have to worry about having drug addicts next door,” he whispered,
grinning.

She shushed him, straining to hear Destry as he assured the audience
that his guests would already have completed a rehabilitation program and
pledged to remain drug-free during their stay. He also promised that the
in-house psychiatrist and counselor would be available for the townspeople to
schedule appointments. Some in the audience nodded, seeming pleased. Others
shook their heads.

“I don’t foresee my guests needing any more community services than a
normal tourist,” Destry said. “In fact, with the completion of my center, we’ll
have additional medical support in emergencies. My guests will shop in your
stores and eat at your restaurants. The town will receive tax income from the
guests who are able to pay, and I’ll be hiring most of my employees locally.
Overall, it should bring great financial benefits to the community.”

He looked around at those in the crowd. “The people I’m bringing here
aren’t dangerous. They’re normal people who acknowledge they have a problem.
All they need is a break from their usual friends and their usual habits. From
what I know of this town, I believe you have what it takes to be new friends,
better friends, to those who need you the most. Thank you.” With that, he left
the podium. Rosie clapped her hands, stirring up a smattering of applause that
died out as he sat down. Rosie watched Mercedes wrap an arm around his back and
lean her head over to whisper in his ear.

Betty McFerrin stood to announce the next few speakers. One by one,
they got up to speak. And one by one they spoke against Destry’s plan, many of
them referencing news articles about his past and statistics about drug-abuse
recovery. Rosie waited for Destry to notice her, but he never glanced her way.
Little by little, his smile faded and his head drooped. It was as if each speaker
turned a dimmer switch on his hopes.

Then Betty announced Tanner as the next speaker, and Destry finally
raised his eyes from the floor to look Rosie’s way. She shrugged and reached a
shaky hand for the wall. No wonder Tanner brought his laptop.

As the former state champion in debate, Tanner came prepared with a
multi-media presentation. Using pictures and videos of local landscapes and
people, he presented Lone Spur as a place of innocence, an unspoiled piece of
America that needed to be preserved in the same way Americans preserve other
national treasures. He reached an arm in Rosie’s direction. “We want to keep
Lone Spur as it is for our children and our children’s children.”

She felt every eye in the room—especially Destry’s—turn her way. Tanner
had no right to include her in that statement. He knew she wasn’t planning to
have children with him anymore, but he chose to lie for his own convenience. He
had used her for rhetorical effect, a nice little visual aid in the corner.

“Thank you,” Tanner said, ending his speech to a thunder of applause.

Anger roared inside her, anxious to escape. She knew what she had to do,
and it terrified her, but with her pulse pounding in her temples, she limped up
the stairs to the podium on the stage.

She adjusted the microphone to the proper position and addressed the
crowd. “I’d like to add something—”

Betty clicked off the switch at the base of the mic. “I’m sorry,” she
said, her bangles jingling. “You have to sign up ahead of time, honey. It’s the
rules.” She pointed to a list on her clipboard.

“It’ll only take a minute,” Rosie insisted. “And I’m probably the only
one speaking in Destry’s favor.”

“Normally, I would let you,” Betty said. “But there are so many
speakers today.”

With that, Rosie stepped to the side of the podium and raised her
voice. She didn’t need a microphone. “You all know I love Lone Spur,” she
shouted, “and you also know things aren’t always perfect. Tanner can paint our
town as a sort of Mayberry, where everyone is perfect and happy, but we all
know it isn’t true. People here have their share of problems, just like they do
in other places. Having access to Destry’s facility will be a great asset to
our community.” A metallic, high-pitched whine echoed through the auditorium,
interrupting her and causing some in the audience to cover their ears. Someone
was trying to get her to stop talking.

When the squeal died down, Betty spoke into the mic. “The next speaker
will be Jade Harris.” Jade stood at Betty’s side.

To her right, Rosie saw the sheriff approaching, his eyes riveted on
her, but she did her best to ignore him.

“Lone Spur is my favorite town on earth,” she shouted. “There’s a
feeling I get when I’m walking all by myself in the middle of the fields,
looking out at the mountains or up at the night sky. I wish more people could
experience that. And there’s room for more people here. A lot of room. If Lone
Spur really is a national treasure, why can’t we turn it into a place of
healing for a few people from other places?”

The sheriff stood beside her now, his hands on his hips.

Confident she had said all she wanted, she gazed across the crowd. “Thank
you.”

She stepped down from the stage and marched up the side aisle, pushing
past her neighbors and students. A few people standing in the back hooted and
applauded for her. Were they giving her a standing ovation? Glancing across the
auditorium, she saw that Janessa was one of them. It must have been some kind
of joke.

As Jade began to speak, Rosie exited the room. She didn’t notice that
Tanner followed her until she had stepped out the side door of the high school
into the dusky night. “That wasn’t fair of Betty,” he said, grabbing her arm to
stop her from retreating any farther. “I’m going to see if I can get you added
to the list of speakers. That’s what town hall meetings are for. People need to
be able to share their opinions.”

She yanked her arm away and stood with both hands on her hips. “I’ll
tell you what’s not fair. It’s not fair for you to label me in front of the
whole town as the mother of your future children. I thought you understood that
I only want to be friends.”