High Hurdles

by Lauraine Snelling

  “You know how cruel that sounds?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. You should have seen the way Robert took over the other night. ‘DJ, set the table. DJ, entertain the Double Bs. DJ . . . ’ You’da thought I was the nanny or something.” DJ ignored the twinge of guilt she felt. Even she could recognize exaggeration.

  “So . . . could be worse.” Amy dug a hull out from between two teeth.

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  Amy shrugged. “I like Robert. But more than that, I know you do, too. And it’s obvious what your mother thinks. Who knows? It could be fun to have him for a dad.”

  DJ stared at her friend. Had Amy read her mind again? “It’s a matter of principle.”

  “You talked to Gran?”

  “Sure, I was there the other night, remember?” DJ tried to find a comfortable position. She smacked the pillows behind her into a new shape and then repeated the effort. But when she leaned back, something poked her.

  “I mean about the wedding.”

  Ignoring Amy, DJ punched her pillows again. “You want something else to drink?”

  Amy sloshed her can. “Nope.” She got to her feet and picked up her sleeping bag. “How about we sleep out on the deck? Pretty soon it’ll be too cold.”

  A few minutes later, stretched out in their sleeping bags on the lounges, they stared up at the black sky. A jet winked its way east. The sliver of moon hung above the tallest eucalyptus trees, as if tethered like a kite.

  A dog barked. DJ recognized the Rottweiler from two doors down. From a distance came the muted roar of the freeway. The light from the master bathroom clicked off, leaving the house dark except for the lamp in the family room.

  “We’d have to leave this house if Mom and Robert go through with it.” The breeze carried DJ’s soft voice.

  “The house isn’t the same anyway without Gran.”

  “Do you have to have an answer for everything?” While meant as a joke, DJ felt like slamming her fist on the redwood deck. “I don’t want to move. I don’t want a new father. I don’t even care about the one I do have.” Quiet for a minute. “ ’Course I might if I knew my real dad, but I don’t. And I most especially don’t want . . .”

  A cricket answered her, and a soft snuffle told her that Amy had fallen asleep.

  I don’t know what I want anymore. DJ turned over and replayed her pillow-thumping routine. It didn’t help any more now than it had earlier. What was she going to do?

  The next morning, both girls hurried through cleaning their required stalls and grooming at the Academy. Amy and her family were going into San Francisco, and DJ was going with Joe and Gran to Redding to look at a couple of cutting horses for Joe. With Tony nowhere in sight, they didn’t have to worry about putting their plan into action.

  Saturday mornings were usually spent riding and practicing. Sometimes DJ taught a class. This Saturday, the plan added an extra task. Every time DJ saw one of the other student workers, she pulled that person aside and explained the plan. “Don’t talk to Tony Andrada” became the password of the day. DJ told each person to pass it on but to make sure Tony, Hilary, and Bridget didn’t hear about it. By the time she’d worked both Major and Patches, the hands on her wristwatch were already close to eleven.

  Amy had finished and gone home an hour earlier.

  DJ rode into Gran and Joe’s drive just as they were loading things into his green Ford Explorer.

  “You’re just in time.” Gran turned from packing the fishing tackle box that held all her paints.

  “I thought we were going to look for horses.” DJ dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s rose-scented cheek.

  “You’re dropping me off at the Viano Winery so I can paint, then picking me up on the way back.” Gran gave DJ a quick one-arm hug. “I haven’t gotten to do a landscape for a long time, and the hills covered with grape vines are so beautiful this time of year.”

  “You’re busy ’cause you keep getting more contracts for books.” DJ rubbed her stomach. “Anything to eat? I’m starved.”

  “So what’s new?” Joe came out of the house with a cooler and picnic basket in hand. “I brought plenty so you can start munching immediately if you need to.”

  “Thanks. How come you already know me so well?”

  “I raised three kids, that’s why.” Joe set the food boxes on the floor. “And teenagers, whether male or female, are always hungry. It’s a universal law.”

  “You should know, Mr. Policeman.” DJ leaned in and flipped open the cooler to extract a soda and an apple.

  “Mr. Ex-policeman, you mean.” He held the front door open so Gran could climb into the Explorer. “Last call for anything you’ve forgotten.”

  As soon as they were on the road, DJ dug a bologna and cheese sandwich out of the cooler and a bag of chips from the basket. “Anyone else want anything?” she asked just before sinking her teeth into the sandwich. Gran had even baked bread.

  “No, thanks.”

  After they dropped Gran off to paint, DJ moved to the front seat and propped her knees on the dash. “I think you should buy Gran a horse, too.”

  “I offered, and she said no thank you but we could buy one for the other grandkids if I liked.”

  “That’s like Gran. I know she would love riding up in Briones. She could find some neat places to paint. You know, if you want to ride Major up there, I can always take Megs. She’s feeling left out since I got Major.” Megs belonged to Bridget and had been retired from showing.

  “We’ll see. I might have a horse of my own after today.”

  But that was not to be. DJ took an instant dislike to the first horse they looked at. “I don’t care if his bloodlines go clear back to Spain, his back legs are bad. As he gets older, they’ll just get worse.” The Bridgetlike comments rolled off DJ’s tongue.

  Joe gave her a smile. “I saw that, too, but he is well trained.”

  “You can train one just as well.”

  The second horse required more deliberation. Joe rode the chestnut gelding around the ring, putting it through what paces it had. The ad had stated the horse was green broke, and it wasn’t kidding.

  “He’ll grow some.” The owner leaned on the board fence beside DJ. “His sire has taken awards up and down the coast. We’ll be entering him in Nationals next year. And his dam has produced two Nationals winners already.”

  DJ listened to his sales pitch and watched Joe on the horse. “He’ll take a lot of training.” The gelding was refusing to switch leads or stand still.

  “True, but he hasn’t learned any bad habits, either. I broke him myself, so I know he’s a willing learner.”

  Joe rode the horse up to the fence. “What do you think, DJ? He’s fairly easy gaited. You ride him and see what you think.”

  DJ adjusted the stirrups on the Western saddle and swung aboard. The horse reminded her of Patches, all go and no brains. What would Bridget say? The bloodlines were good, the confirmation okay—near as she could tell—and the price wasn’t too bad for a three-year-old registered Quarter Horse.

  Joe thanked the man and promised they’d get back to him in a day or so. They discussed the pros and cons of the horse on the way back to pick up Gran, but still had reached no decision by the time they got home.

  “Well, my darlings, I say if you have to talk about that horse this much, then he isn’t the one to buy. When you see the right one, I think you’ll know right away.” Gran carefully lifted her easel out of the car so she wouldn’t smear the still-wet oil paints.

  “Sort of love at first sight, you mean?” Joe handed DJ the cooler and hamper while he retrieved the remainder of their gear.

  “Y’all could call it that.”

  “But, Gran, there are so many things to consider.”

  “You’ll see.”

  DJ and Joe swapped there-she-goes-again looks.

  But DJ had learned through the years that when Gran gave her opinions, they were usually right. “Have you been praying for a ho
rse for Joe?”

  “Of course, child. Why wouldn’t I?” Gran stopped with one foot on the bottom step. “There is nothing so small that God doesn’t want us to talk it over with Him. Why, I even talk to Him about what to serve for dinner.”

  DJ followed her into the house. The delicious smells of garlic and tomato sauce greeted them.

  “And what did He say today?” DJ sniffed appreciatively.

  “Lasagna. The salad’s all tossed, and the garlic bread’s ready for the oven.” Gran glanced at her watch. “Lindy and Robert will be here with the boys any minute now. Thank goodness for ovens with timers.”

  DJ groaned. “Why didn’t anyone tell me they were coming?”

  “Why, what difference does it make?” Gran looked at her as if she’d grown horns or something.

  “I didn’t bring clean clothes. You know how she hates it when I smell like horse.”

  “Do you want me to take you home to change?” Joe dropped a kiss on the back of Gran’s neck as he walked by.

  “You needn’t worry—I washed the jeans and shirt you left here last time you spent the night.” Gran gave DJ a gentle shove toward the bedroom. “You can shower, too, if it would make you feel better.”

  “There’s the car. I’ll keep the Double Bs busy until you’re ready.” Joe winked at DJ. “They think grandpas are almost as good as a big sister.” He ducked away from her fake punch.

  “I’ll just ignore them all and hide out in here,” DJ muttered to the pounding water. But she knew that wouldn’t work. Her stomach was growling in anticipation of the lasagna. Besides, she knew her mother would threaten general destruction if she tried such a thing. Anything too obnoxious, and she might be grounded again. Now that was a fate worse than death. Last time—actually the one and only time it had ever happened to her—had nearly done her in.

  DJ turned off the shower and dressed quickly. The laughter from the other room beckoned almost as persuasively as the lasagna and garlic bread.

  The Double Bs’ giggles were more catching than poison oak.

  DJ forced her lips to stay in a straight line at their first elephant joke. Baby stuff.

  She couldn’t remember the answer to the second. It had been a long time since she’d heard an elephant joke.

  But she knew the answer to the third. When Robert paused for someone to answer, she couldn’t resist. “Footprints in the Jell-O.”

  “Huh?” The B on her right looked up at her.

  “You can tell an elephant’s been in the refrigerator by the footprints in the Jell-O.” Left B started to giggle, then right B got the joke and the giggles turned to hoots. Very contagious.

  DJ glanced up to see Robert smiling at her. Gran and Joe were chuckling with the boys. DJ sneaked a peek at her mother. Lindy had never appreciated stupid jokes. But growing up, DJ hadn’t much minded because Gran had always been there to laugh with her.

  When the giggles subsided somewhat, Robert asked, “How can you tell if there’s an elephant in a cherry tree?”

  “How?”

  DJ had to bite her tongue. The silly answers were coming back to her.

  Oh, fiddle. DJ leaned to her right and whispered in that B’s ear. “Because elephants always wear red tennies.”

  “ ’Cause elephants gots red pennies.”

  DJ rolled her eyes. She tried again. “Tennies, B, tennies.”

  “ ’Cause the tree gots tennies.”

  The other B laughed so hard he fell off his chair.

  “You okay?” DJ leaned down and helped him up.

  “Tennies in the tree! Elephants wear red tennies in the cherry tree so we can see ’em.” He looked up at her to make sure he had gotten it right.

  In shifting from one twin to the other, DJ caught a glimpse of her mother’s face. Lindy wore a half smile, the polite kind, the kind that DJ knew meant her mother was only half there. The rest of her was probably selling more guns to the police departments or planning her thesis.

  What she wasn’t doing was having fun.

  “Can I be excused?” DJ pushed her chair back from the table. “Come on, guys. I’ll race you to the road and back.”

  DJ hoped the breeze in her hair and on her face would blow away the anger she felt toward her mother right now. Why couldn’t she laugh at a little joke? Just to be part of the group. It wasn’t as if her mother didn’t know how. Maybe she didn’t get the joke. Or maybe she’s a snob. The thoughts raced through DJ’s mind as her feet pounded the gravel.

  Careful to keep even with the running boys, she reached down for their hands, and together the three sprinted the last few yards.

  “I won.”

  “No, me!”

  “Hey, guys, we all won.” That was the way it was supposed to be, wasn’t it? Everyone winning?

  DJ tickled one twin and then the other. “Race you back to the house.” They darted off and she followed, this time letting them win by a jump or two.

  Before falling asleep that night, DJ looked up at the poster of the Olympic rider and horse clearing the jump and prayed, “God, I really need a way to stop my mom and Robert from getting married. A plan with a capital P.” She tacked another line on to her prayer to cover all the bases. “And, God, please help my mother to laugh. She wouldn’t even smile at the elephant jokes.”

  Did God really have a plan in all this?

  CHAPTER • 7

  Two weeks passed and still DJ had no plan.

  Worse yet, Tony Andrada continued making life at the Academy miserable for all of them. DJ felt as though something in her life wasn’t working—like everything. On top of all that, she’d been notified that she had received only an honorable mention in the art contest.

  “What’s so great about an honorable mention?” she sighed to Amy.

  “Most people would be pumped about an honorable mention.” Amy shook her head. “But not my friend. My friend likes only blue ribbons.”

  “No, I’d take a purple rosette, too.” DJ licked the other side of her mocha almond fudge ice-cream cone. The two girls had bicycled down to the local shopping center for “some real food,” as DJ called it. Her mother was on a low-fat kick again and had only rabbit food in the house. Or at least, that’s what DJ called all the vegetables.

  “Mom wants to lose weight, so I get to starve.” DJ took a bite of her sugar cone and closed her eyes in bliss. “Why don’t we go to the exhibit and see what kind of illustration took grand prize? I thought my horse was pretty good, and even Gran said I’d done well. You know what a perfectionist she is about artwork.”

  “Okay, but how are we going to get there?”

  “Bus. I could ask Gran, though. Maybe she’d like to see it, too—of course, she would, my picture’s hanging there,” DJ thought aloud.

  “What about your mom?”

  “Ha! You know she’s been to only one—no, make that two—of my horse shows since I began showing. What kind of a mother is she, anyway?”

  “A busy one.” Amy finished her cone and tossed the wrapper into the trash.

  “Your father goes to every show, and your mom makes most of them.” DJ leveled a look at her friend that dared her to get out of this one.

  “I know. But my mom says it’s easier to make it to things like that when you’re a stay-at-home mother.”

  “Yeah, you never have to come home to an empty house.”

  “Sometimes I’d like to.” Amy shoved up the kickstand on her bike.

  “Feel free to visit mine any day.”

  “Mom won’t let me—there’s no adult there.” Amy tipped her head and licked her lips.

  DJ knew the gesture meant Amy was trying to keep from laughing.

  “See what I mean?”

  “You know what it’s like at our house. You have to shout to make yourself heard. With four kids, I have to lock the bathroom door for some privacy—then John always has to go.”

  DJ often dreamed of becoming a member of the Yamamoto clan. Having brothers and sisters around had always sounded
neat.

  Until now. Now brothers and sisters meant the Double Bs.

  “You’re lucky to have an older brother.”

  “You want him, you can have him.” Amy slung her leg over the bicycle. “You ready? I have to clean my room. With the show next weekend, I promised I’d do it today.”

  DJ glanced up at the fading light. “You better hurry, the day’s about gone.”

  “I know. You could come help me.”

  DJ thought of the quiet house that awaited her. Lindy was off doing research to help her decide on a thesis topic. The note she’d left said she’d be home by dinner. She didn’t mention who was cooking it or eating it.

  “Sorry, but I better not. I think I’m supposed to be at home or Gran’s.”

  “You think?” The two pedaled side by side up the residential street.

  “Well, you know . . . Mom and I haven’t been communicating much lately, at least not speaking. She writes me notes or leaves messages on the machine. Easier that way.”

  “Is she coming to the horse show?”

  “Dream on. It’s no big deal. When she is there, my butterflies invite all their friends in and have a party—at my stomach’s expense.” DJ kept pedaling and stretched her arms above her head. “Gran and Joe will be there, and they’re the ones who count.”

  “You going to church with them in the morning?”

  “Yep.”

  “You could ride with us if you want.”

  DJ sometimes wished her mother would come along, too, but Lindy used Sunday mornings to study. She said Gran could take care of the praying and churchgoing for their family. Lindy didn’t want to be bothered with it.

  The message light blinked on the machine. “DJ, I’m at Robert’s. I’ll be home late. Robert would like us all to go to church together tomorrow, so tell Gran you’ll be going with us.”

  “With us where? I don’t want to go to some strange church in the city. I like our church.” DJ slammed the replay button. The message sounded no better the second time.

  I think I’ll go sleep with Major, that way I won’t have to go with anyone. What about my Sunday school class? Doesn’t my mother ever think of anyone but herself? Since when does she go to church? Just because Robert asked her? DJ fussed and fumed until she climbed into bed.