“I better put Major away and get home. See you tomorrow.” At Bridget’s nod, DJ lightly squeezed her lower legs. Major responded immediately by heading for the gate.
“You know, horse, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you understood English better’n I do.” DJ patted the sweaty neck of the sixteen-hand bay. Major paused so she could swing the gate open, then walked on through, stopping again to allow the gate to be closed. “And if I didn’t want to jump so bad, you’d be a sure winner in the Trail class.”
“You two were awesome.” Amy dismounted at the same time DJ did, and together they led their horses into the red-sided pole barn. The two friends were about as opposite as could be. Amy, tiny at five feet, had flowing dark hair, almond-shaped eyes, rode Western, and thrived on hot, spicy food. At five feet seven, DJ was as long-legged as a colt, had sparkling green eyes, felt English was a far more comfortable ride, and hated peppery food. Both girls shared one major complaint—their bodies had about as many curves as a plank. Many times, DJ had sighed and noted, “Some boys have bigger chests than we do.” Amy had to agree.
“Ames, pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.” DJ held out her arm to her friend. “Ouch! I was only kidding.”
With the reins draped over one arm, she reached up to remove her helmet and tighten the band holding her wavy blond hair in a ponytail.
Major sniffed her hair, then her jeans pocket, nosing for the treat she saved for his reward.
“Sorry, old man, you ate it earlier.”
Major blew in her face, slobber and all.
“Yuck.” DJ wiped the wet drops off her tanned face with the hem of her T-shirt.
The horse rubbed his nose against her chest, leaving white hairs, slobber, and sweat on the dark blue fabric.
“Now you did it. Mom will insist I change clothes before dinner.”
“Well, you better hurry then. We won’t be home before dark at this rate. And I have tons of homework. Besides, you don’t want your mother yelling at you.” Amy stripped off her Western saddle and the thick pad underneath it while she talked. Always practical, Amy did her best to keep DJ out of trouble.
“Okay, okay.” DJ followed suit, setting her English saddle on one of the two-by-four bars that made up the saddle rack on the wall of the tack room. Her name was written on a three-by-five card to remind everyone that this was her private property. Most horse boarders took their gear home with them, but since DJ and Amy usually rode their bikes to the Academy, they kept their tack there.
“You did do your chores before you came?” Amy peered around Josh’s neck when DJ didn’t answer. “Didn’t you?”
DJ kept quiet.
“DJ!”
“Well, I was in a hurry, and—”
“We’d really better hurry now. What time did your mom say she’d be home?”
“Seven.” And I sure hope that means eight, as usual. I don’t know where the time goes. DJ’s thoughts kept pace with the two grooming brushes she wielded with such skill. Grooming a horse had become second nature to her.
If only Gran . . . DJ clapped a lid on the thought. Gran didn’t live far away, but on nights like this, her house might as well have been on the other side of the moon. She wasn’t living with DJ and her mother now that she’d met and married Joe Crowder. She wouldn’t be in the kitchen cooking dinner or out in her studio putting the final touches on one of her paintings for illustrated children’s books.
“Earth to DJ. Come in, DJ.” Amy waved her hand in front of DJ’s face.
“Oh, sorry. Did you say something?”
“No, not really. I was just talking to Josh here about his homework.” Amy wore a disgusted look that said she’d been expecting an answer.
“Sorry.” DJ gave Major’s now-dry coat a quick once over, checked the hay in the hay net, and grabbed the water bucket. “I’ll be right back.” While water gushed into the bucket from the spigot, she looked up toward the hills of northern California’s Briones State Park. While the hills still wore the gold of fall, soon winter would bring rain and, with it, tender shoots of green grass. The oak trees were turning shades of rust and gold, the color deepened by the setting sun. Down in the hollows, the trees already looked black.
DJ shut off the water. Black trees meant black skies, and black skies meant a black mood on her mother’s face and over the entire house if DJ wasn’t home before dark. DJ knew she’d better put herself in gear, but she’d rather be at the Academy than anywhere else on earth.
Amy and DJ signed out on the duty roster, DJ gritting her teeth at the signature right above hers. Tony Andrada. He was even worse than his predecessor, James, whom she used to think was the biggest pain alive. But thanks to her grandmother’s counseling, DJ and James had become friends. Unfortunately, Tony outdid James in rottenness a hundred to one.
“Have you heard from James?” As usual, Amy seemed to know what DJ was thinking.
“You blow me away.”
“How?” The pair swung their legs over their bikes at the same moment, as if the move had been choreographed by a dance instructor. “How did you know I was thinking about James?”
“I didn’t.” Amy shot a grin over her shoulder as they turned onto Reliez Valley Road. “So answer the question.”
“So I haven’t heard. You know he’d rather send e-mail than a letter, but since I don’t have a computer, he has to do things the old-fashioned way. Why is it so hard to type up a letter on the computer and stick it in the mail?”
“Don’t ask me, I’m not a computer nerd.”
“No, you’re just a horse nerd—like me.” DJ panted. The second hill always made her huff.
They turned and coasted down their own street. Coming home was always easier than going to the Academy, at least as far as peddling was concerned. DJ groaned. Her mother’s car sat in the driveway.
“You have company.”
“Hey, you’re right.” DJ’s groan changed to a grin. “Robert’s here.”
Amy turned up her drive and stopped to wave. “See ya in the morning.”
“Okay.” At least now, with company in the house, she wouldn’t get a lecture till later. And sometimes when her mother and Robert had been swapping gooey glances, trouble disappeared altogether.
DJ dismounted and entered the front door to press the button that raised the garage door. Tonight she would make sure her bike was put away. No need to make matters worse.
“Mom, I’m home.” No answer. DJ stashed her bike in the garage and reentered the house.
“DJ, is that you?”
“Who else do you suppose it would be?” DJ was careful to keep the mutter just that. “Yeah.” She raised her voice to be heard outside. Obviously they were out on the deck.
“You’re late.”
“It’s not dark yet.” DJ grabbed a soda out of the refrigerator and crossed the family room, no longer Gran’s studio, to the French doors leading onto the redwood deck. Robert and her mother turned to greet her.
DJ stopped as quickly as though she’d run into a glass wall. A diamond ring glinted on her mother’s hand.
“Robert has asked me to marry him.” Lindy looked up at the man standing just behind her, his arm around her waist.
DJ felt as if she’d been kicked in the chest by a feisty horse.
CHAPTER • 2
“Have you nothing to say?”
DJ looked from her mother’s hand to her eyes and up at Robert. “I . . . I . . .” She cleared her throat. What was she supposed to say? Hurrah and congratulations? This was her life they were planning so glibly! “I . . . ah . . . that’s great.” Even to her ears, the response sounded weak.
“I know this comes as a surprise to you.”
Yeah, you could say that. About a hundred times over.
Robert’s deep voice drew DJ’s attention back from her mindless study of the ring to his face. The two lines that cut between his straight eyebrows looked deeper than they had the moment before. His gray eyes had darkened.
&nbs
p; “I better get something to eat so I can get started on my homework.” Ask ’em when the wedding will be, bozo. DJ headed for the kitchen. Why would Mom take his ring if she didn’t want to marry him, yo-yo brain? DJ felt as though she had another person in her head, arguing her mother’s case.
I’d have a father. Someone else to boss me around. And if Mom married Robert, those two human dynamos would be here all the time. DJ shuddered. The five-year-old twin boys, Bobby and Billy, would make St. Peter wish for a new assignment. Her smile at the thought felt stiff, like a pair of shoes left out in the rain and then dried too quickly.
She dished up food from all four take-out containers and stuck the plate in the microwave. How come two minutes of waiting for the microwave timer to beep and two minutes in the show-ring passed at such different rates of speed?
Carrying her plate up to her room, DJ stopped in the family room. “Does Gran know yet?”
Lindy shook her head. “We hoped you’d be happy for us, DJ.”
“Oh, I am.” DJ started up the stairs. “I am.” She hurried upstairs, half worried they might chase her and shake the truth out of her. She was proud of herself for not slamming the door to her room. But then, she wasn’t mad—was she?
She sat on the edge of the bed shoveling food into her mouth as if that could shut out the thought. Beef with broccoli, sweet-and-sour prawns, egg foo yong, chicken chow mein—it all tasted the same. She set the plate on her desk and cracked open her fortune cookie. Great money is coming into your life.
She read it again. Wouldn’t that be incredible? Money she needed in spades. Money for a new saddle and a horse trailer would be nice—and, of course, a new truck to haul the trailer with. She let the piece of pink paper flutter into her wastebasket. So much for the wisdom of fortune cookies.
She nibbled one half. Stale. She spit it into the wastebasket and tossed in the other half behind it. There should be a law against giving out stale fortune cookies, let alone stale fortunes.
She crossed to the window and looked out at the yard she and Gran had worked so hard over. The roses wore their October finery, blooming again after a slowdown in the heat of summer. Pink and red begonias lined the bed at the back of the yard. Carrots rose their feathery plumes in front of the squash, and pumpkins sent tendrils snaking everywhere.
I suppose I could have fun carving jack-o’-lanterns with Bobby and Billy. The Double Bs. They and Robert and Lindy always laughed whenever she called them by the name she had given them.
DJ pushed away from the window, full of memories, and slumped into the chair in front of her desk. “Like they really care what I think. Grown-ups don’t consider kids at all when they make changes in their lives.” She hung her head in her hands. If only she could call Amy, or better yet, Gran. But Gran wasn’t home, and Amy’s mother had a rule against phone calls after eight.
Could this be defined as an emergency? DJ shook her head, defeat setting around her shoulders like a lead cape. Opening her algebra book to the assigned page, she began her homework. “If x equals blank and y is twenty-four, what is . . .” DJ snapped her pencil in two. What did it matter? She slammed the book shut and stuffed it into her backpack.
Taking out her drawing pad and number-three charcoal pencil, she crossed to the bed and made a nest against the headboard with her pillows. Finally, with the pad propped on her knees, she closed her eyes. That way, it was easier to picture Major.
After a few moments of concentration, she began drawing. Five minutes later, she tore off the first sheet. The sketch looked more like a camel. The next one closely resembled an okapi. She dumped the pad onto the floor before she wasted any more paper.
Once in bed, comforted by her Mickey Mouse nightshirt, she tried to pray. Gran had always said to pray when you were stuck—it was even better if you prayed before you got stuck in the first place. But then, Gran found it easy to ask God for things. He really answered her.
DJ thumped her pillows into submission and turned onto her side.
“God, help! I don’t want a new father—I don’t even know the one I’ve got. Please, please, please don’t let Mom and Robert get married. Mom and I . . . we . . . well, we’re just starting to get along as it is. What am I gonna do now?” She waited. There was no answer. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, so she shut off the light and rolled onto her side to face the wall.
“DJ?” Mom tapped at the closed door. When there was only silence, her feet padded down the hall to her own room.
DJ heard her mother’s bedroom door click shut. Lindy was a strong believer in privacy, both for herself and her daughter. Right now, the daughter felt . . . DJ tried to figure out how she felt.
Lost seemed as good a word as any.
“Close your mouth, Ames, you’ll catch flies.”
“But you say your mother and Robert—?” Amy stopped, heedless of the students milling around them. She ignored the one who bumped into her and kept her attention riveted on DJ.
“Bummer, huh?” DJ kicked her sneakers against the curb.
“Well, maybe not.”
“Where’s your head, girl? I’m counting on you to help me break this fast romance into a thousand pieces.”
“What does Gran say?”
DJ kicked again. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked with her. She was gone last night.” She raised her head. “There’s the bell. We’ll have to discuss this later. Try to come up with a really creative idea in the meantime. A plan—you know, the kind that’s so good they’ll think they thought of it.”
“Right.” Amy’s groan rose clear from her ankles. “You know what happens to our good ideas.”
“Not this time. This time I’m desperate.” DJ slung her backpack over one shoulder and headed for the doorway.
“When aren’t you?” Amy had to take three strides to DJ’s two.
“But this time . . . this time could mean the difference between . . .” DJ wrinkled her brow. Life and death sounded too—well, normal would do for lack of a better word. She skidded into her homeroom just as the final bell rang.
The house smelled empty, the same lonely smell that greeted DJ every day now. Would she never stop missing Gran? As she climbed the stairs to her room, she remembered the way fresh-baked cookie perfume had floated out to the street to greet her. If Gran had been too involved in painting to bake, a familiar turpentine and oil scent had said she was hard at work. The easel set up in the corner of the family room had always exhibited the artwork for the latest children’s book Gran was illustrating, the stereo playing one of Gran’s “uplifting” tapes.
So many times, DJ had teased Gran about her music when they both knew DJ enjoyed listening to the contemporary Christian singers as much as her grandmother.
DJ reminded herself that Gran lived only a mile and a half away and she could drop in to experience all those things if she wanted to. Frequently she did—but only after her work at the Academy and only on nights when her mother said she’d be home late.
DJ did her usual quick-change routine and clattered back down the stairs, leaving the memories behind. The answering machine winked its red eye at her. She pushed the play button to hear her mother’s voice. “Please be ready to go to dinner by 7:15. We will be going someplace nice, so make sure you are presentable.”
DJ read between the lines. Presentable meant “take a shower so you don’t smell like horse.” But who did the “we” refer to? Would it be just the two of them? The entire family? Was Robert coming? The tone said her mother had a long way to go before she would be happy with her one and only daughter.
If DJ was going to be clean and dressed by 7:15, she’d better hit warp speed right about now. She grabbed a soda and an apple from the refrigerator, a food bar from the cupboard, and stuck her cereal bowl and glass from that morning in the dishwasher. No sense adding fuel to her mother’s fire. Everything had better be put away.
DJ rushed out the door and hopped onto her bike. “Put a move on it,” she called as she coasted past
Amy. “Her highness called and said to be ready tonight for dinner out.”
“Well, at least she won’t yell at you while you’re in public.” Amy pedaled up beside her friend.
“Hope not. She read somewhere that restaurants are perfect for having heavy discussions—people are on their best behavior.” DJ alternately munched and sipped as she pedaled until they reached the steep part of the hill where she needed two hands to steer. “You come up with any great ideas?”
“For what?”
“Getting this wedding canceled, of course. What did you think I meant?”
“DJ, I hate to remind you, but all our great ideas flop, remember?” Amy halted at the stop sign. “Besides, Robert is a nice man. And personally, I think having a father around is the best.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got a good one.”
“I know. Anyway, I think you should let nature take its course.”
“Nature what? Are you out of your mind?” DJ skidded in the loose gravel, then dismounted. They both parked their bikes in the shade of the long barn containing four rows of stalls. DJ finished her soda in a gulp and dropped the can in a recycling barrel as they trotted across the dusty parking lot to the office. Once inside the dim interior, they looked up at the roster, a shiny white board with names and duties written in erasable marker.
“Yuck.” Amy pointed at the name Tony Andrada. Recently relocated from the South, Tony had already made a name for himself as one of the most disliked student workers at the Academy. He gave a new and deeper meaning to the term redneck.
“Well, at least I don’t have to work with him. James was bad enough.”
Together they turned and entered Bridget’s office. A stack of bills, invoices, magazines, and advertisements teetered on the edge of the desk, nearly hiding the woman working at a pullout board.
“Just do not sneeze in here, and I will remain calm.” Bridget looked up from glaring at a ledger. “Is either one of you skilled enough on a computer to enter all this information for me so I can finally get organized?”
High Hurdles Page 24