High Hurdles

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Thank you for letting her come with me,” Brad said. “Jackie and I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  DJ felt like running in place. Did everyone have to be so . . . so polite? It wasn’t as if she was going to the moon, for pete’s sake. “Bye, Mom.” Would she get the hint?

  Once in the car, Brad asked, “Would you like to show me your horse before we go?”

  “Sure.” DJ slammed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Sorry, I meant to tell you thanks for the awesome saddle first thing.”

  “You like it then?”

  “Like it? Does the sun rise every day? I couldn’t believe it. And a Crosby, to boot.”

  “I wanted to get you a Hermes, but Jackie said no, you’d be afraid to use it.”

  “A Hermes?” her voice squeaked. She swallowed. “I would have kept it under lock and key in my bedroom. What if someone stole it?”

  “Then this is better. Does it fit you and Major okay?”

  “Same size I already use—only so much better. I was saving for a used saddle.” DJ pointed at Amy’s drive. “Stop here.”

  By the time they’d picked up Amy, stopped to see Major, and were finally on the road, Brad asked if they were hungry. “Because if you can hold out, Jackie will have lunch ready.”

  “We can wait.”

  “Okay, then I’ll just get us drinks.” He swung into a fast-food place.

  Talking with Brad was a lot like visiting with Robert, DJ decided by the time they reached Santa Rosa. Comfortable and easy. Of course any time she could talk horses, that made conversation easy.

  He told her how he’d gotten interested in Arabians and begun breeding them back when the breed was rising in value astronomically. Jackie did most of the training and showing, but her true love was dressage. A few years later, they had bought her Hanovarian, Lord Byron.

  “She’s looking forward to helping you if you want,” he continued. “I thought you might like to ride Matadorian. He’s a real sweetheart.”

  “Your stallion?” DJ couldn’t believe her ears.

  “Sure, why not? And, Amy, there’s a mare with your name on her. You do ride English, don’t you?”

  “Not usually, but I can. DJ made sure I learned,” Amy answered.

  “Amy thinks Western is best. She and Josh—he’s half Arab—do really well.”

  When they drove into the curving, oak-lined drive, DJ couldn’t take in everything quickly enough. White board fences checkerboarded the rolling pastures, where horses grazed knee-deep in grass. The stone house was set off on a rise, and the road curved on around to the type of barn she’d seen in pictures of Kentucky. On the roof two cupolas topped by horse weather vanes stood etched against the blue sky. White siding matched the fences, setting off the window and door trim painted a hunter green. A covered, open-sided arena shared one wall with an open ring that looked at least an acre in size.

  “Oh, my.” DJ couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Amy whispered.

  Inside the house, after greeting Jackie, DJ gravitated to the wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling bank of windows that looked out over the pastures backed by the rocky coastal mountain range. Rows of grapes, now barren for the winter, threaded the lower slopes. A couple of yearlings raced across their pasture, tails flagging in the Arabian way. A flock of ducks came in low over the pond at the end of the manicured lawn and slid their way onto the smooth water.

  “This is one of my favorite places, too.” Her father came up to stand beside her. “I never tire of watching the land change with the seasons. We’ll go down after lunch and I’ll introduce you to my other kids.” At the question on her face, he added, “The horses, my dear. Not human relatives.”

  DJ shot him a grin and turned back to the scene. “Sure is beautiful out there.”

  “I think you and I have even more in common than I dreamed.” He took her arm. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room and then we’ll have lunch. Amy, you want to share a room with this long drink of water or you want one of your own?”

  “We’ll share. I just wish I’d brought my camera. I can’t believe I left it at home.”

  “You didn’t!”

  Amy nodded. “I know, you can hit me later.”

  “You’re welcome to use one of ours. You can take your pick.” Brad showed them up a curving stairway graced by framed pictures of Arabians in all stages of show and growth. It would take hours just to see them all. An oil painting of a chestnut stallion, wind whipping his mane, held the place of honor. The wide gold-leaf frame brought out the gold in his coat.

  “That’s Matadorian, my pride and joy, when he was three. He’s heavier now that he’s mature, so he looks even better. And the foals he sires—winners all.” He pushed open a door and ushered them in. “Here’s your room. Hope you like it.” He glanced at his watch. “I have one phone call I have to return, so I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Jackie said to tell you the drawers are empty if you want to put your things in them. Bathroom’s through there.”

  DJ flopped down on the queen-sized bed. “This has enough pillows to start a store. Can you believe this place?”

  “Makes you wonder, huh?” Amy flopped beside DJ.

  “About what?”

  “About why he never wrote to you or anything? It isn’t like he couldn’t afford it.”

  “Yeah, I thought of that. Maybe sometime I’ll ask him.” DJ bounded back to her feet. “Let’s go eat. I want to ride Matadorian.” She picked up her wrapped package and headed out the door.

  When they were all sitting at the round country table surrounded by bay windows, she handed her father the gift. After seeing all the paintings and portraits around the house, she felt silly even giving it to him.

  Amy handed her packet of note cards to Jackie. “To say thanks for inviting me.”

  “DJ, did you really draw this?” Brad held the enlarged picture of the furry-eared foal up to get more light, then handed it to Jackie. DJ nodded. “I know you said you liked to draw, but this is better than something a hobbyist would do. You’re a real artist. You taken any lessons?”

  “From Gran—sorta. And I’m in art class at school.” DJ shrugged. “I just like to draw horses. Been doing it ever since I can remember.”

  “Amy, are these your photos?” Jackie had looked at the back of the unwrapped package.

  Now it was Amy’s turn to squirm a bit. “Uh-huh. DJ and I made packets of note cards using some of her drawings and my photos. It’s our latest business.”

  “They’re lovely.” Jackie smiled across the table. “You mean there have been other businesses?”

  By the time they’d all laughed at Amy and DJ’s tales of business mishaps and devoured their lunch, clouds had set in.

  “Let me go set this on my desk and change clothes so we can all go riding. We’ll show you the rest of the farm—especially down by the river. Better hurry before the rain hits.” Brad pushed back his chair. “Thank you for the drawing, DJ. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  That night Amy and DJ curled up on the bed after saying good-night to Brad and Jackie. The girls plumped pillows under their chins and waved their feet in the air.

  “I cannot believe that horse,” DJ whispered. “Riding Matadorian was like . . . like . . .” She couldn’t think of anything to compare it to.

  “I know.” Amy’s voice held the same tone of reverence. “I could get used to living in a place like this, with plenty of awesome horses to choose from. Poor Josh would get jealous.” She laid her cheek on the pillow and looked at DJ. “To think your dad let me ride his stallion, too. Go figure.”

  My dad—the words were becoming more familiar. DJ sighed. Tomorrow she could ride Jackie’s dressage horse, Lord Byron, if she wanted. Shame they didn’t have a jumping setup, too—then the farm would have been complete. She had a feeling if she asked, the jumps would appear as if by magic.

  Once home
, DJ chattered nonstop about her father’s horses, his farm, his trophies, his house, his wife, and what fun he was. When she finally ran down, she noticed the two creases between her mother’s eyebrows now looked more like ditches.

  “And he said to tell you thank you for letting me visit. He hopes we can do this more often.”

  “I’m sure he does. I’m glad you had such a good time. Joe said he’ll be by about eight.” Lindy rose from her curled position in the corner of the sofa. “I have to leave for work early in the morning, so I’m going to bed. You’ll stay at Gran’s tomorrow night because I’ll be in Los Angeles. My number’s on the message board.” She stopped with one foot on the stair. “I’m glad you’re home, Darla Jean, and that you had fun.”

  DJ looked after her. Yeah, right—you look thrilled to bits. What was bugging her mother now?

  CHAPTER • 18

  You know you’re not supposed to be listening. Look what happened last time.

  The battle waged back and forth in her mind. But if I don’t listen, I won’t know what’s going on. Nobody ever tells me anything.

  DJ sat on the stairs. It wasn’t her fault they were talking so loudly she could hear. She’d been on her way to bed when the noise stole her attention. She wrapped both arms around her knees and propped her chin on them.

  “You should have heard her, babbling on about how wonderful the Atwoods are. All the things they have, the house, the horses . . . you name it, the Atwoods have it—in spades. Along with a little diamond dust.”

  “Lindy, she’s just a kid. Sure she’s impressed. We’d probably all be impressed. Sounds like Brad has done really well for himself.”

  DJ strained to hear. Her mother mumbled something.

  “Oh, Lindy, darling, he isn’t trying to take her away from you. You’ve been a good mother and—”

  “No, I haven’t, Robert. Gran raised DJ, not me. We might as well have been sisters for as much responsibility as I took. I went to work, to school, came home, and studied. Seems I’ve been doing that all of my life. Then it was on to more school, traveling with the job, climbing the corporate ladder—for what?”

  “Hey, take it easy on yourself. You can’t tell me that your income wasn’t important around here. You did the best you could. Anyone can tell this family’s offered up a lot of prayers.”

  “That’s due to Gran, too. I . . . I kind of gave up on prayer, on God, a long time ago. He didn’t seem to answer any of my prayers, so I quit praying and left it up to my mother like I did everything else. How can I blame Brad for not accepting his responsibility when I didn’t accept mine, either?”

  “Oh, Lindy, if you didn’t have faith, we wouldn’t be getting married.”

  “Well, I’m not a heathen, you know.”

  “That’s what I said. And now our faith will grow together and our families will blend with God’s blessing. It’s going to work out—perhaps Brad and Jackie will just become a part of our extended family. We can make room for everyone in our lives—you can never run out of love because it just keeps growing to encompass more people. Instead of worrying about Brad taking DJ away, we can share our lovely daughter with him. We’ll all be richer for it.”

  There was a silence long enough for DJ to think she’d heard it all, but as she started to move, her mother’s voice came again. “I wish I could forbid her to see him. I just have a feeling something horrible is going to come of all this.”

  DJ felt her stomach clench. “Something horrible? Come on, Mom, give me a break,” she whispered the words as if hearing them might remove the yucky feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Well, since that’s not possible, we’ll just take this one day at a time. We’ll get through it.” Robert again. At least he didn’t think her father was a monster from outer space.

  “How come you’re so wise?” Lindy’s voice no longer wore the edge of panic.

  “I prayed for wisdom—and keep on praying for it. I think I’m going to need it even more in the months ahead, don’t you?”

  “Are you sure you still want to marry me?”

  When they started to get mushy, DJ went to bed. Good thing I never told her that Brad said there was always a room for me at his house if I felt I needed to leave here. She sighed. But that wouldn’t happen. Not in a million years. Even though he’d said she could bring Major.

  “God, please help me to be really nice to my mother. I want us always to get along like we have lately. Thank you for such a wonderful Christmas and all the family you’ve given me. Amen.”

  Before she turned out the lights, she took out her journal and, propping herself against the head of her bed, began to write. And write. There was so much to think about, to wonder over, and to look forward to. The pages filled quickly.

  “Well, that ought to impress Mrs. Adams even though I didn’t write every day.” She slapped the notebook closed and stuffed it back into its drawer. Maybe tomorrow she could go riding up in Briones.

  A thought DJ hadn’t had for a long time floated through her mind just before she fell asleep: Maybe they would all have an easier time if she weren’t there to mix things up. She turned over. Well, if she ever needed a place to run to, she had one now.

  DJ’s first wish in the morning was to fire the weather reporters. Instead of clear sky as they’d promised, heavy rain washed her windows again. She pulled the covers over her head and tried to go back to sleep, flipping first one way, then the other. The wind and rain sounded as though they were coming right into the house.

  She flopped around again. A ringing sound floated down the hall. “The phone?” She bailed out of bed and dashed to her mother’s bedroom, home to the closest phone. “Hello?”

  “DJ?”

  “Who’d you think?” She sank down onto the already-made bed, her gaze traveling around the room. You’d think no one lived in her mother’s room, it was always so disgustingly neat.

  “Come on, darlin’, you can wake up more chipper than that.”

  “I was already awake, Joe, but it’s pouring out.”

  “That’s why I’m planning to give you a ride. You suppose Amy wants a ride, too?”

  When everything was set for their trip to do morning chores, DJ hung up the phone and got busy. Joe had said he’d be there in fifteen minutes, and he was never late. Food bars for breakfast again. She should have stayed up when she first awoke. Grumbling at herself, she dressed and headed down the stairs. No time to straighten her room now.

  All the early riders at the Academy were as sick of rain as DJ. A couple complained of leaks above their stalls, and the outside stalls had water running through them. Several maintenance men were digging trenches on the hill above the stalls to divert the runoff.

  DJ looked longingly up at the hills she knew lurked behind the sheeting rain. “Major, I want to ride up there again s-o-o bad, don’t you?” He obligingly nuzzled her shoulder and whuffled in her ear. “Hey, that tickles!” DJ scratched the crisp hairs on his upper lip and made him twitch, then nibble at her fingers. When he licked her palm, she threw her arms around his neck. “You are the best horse in the whole world.”

  “Then get him out into the arena and make him earn his keep.” Joe was grooming Ranger in the neighboring stall.

  “Sheesh, what a slave driver. Don’t you know I’m on vacation?” She picked up her brushes and went to work on Major’s thick winter coat. “How come you get so dirty just standing in a stall? What would you be like if you were on pasture?”

  “He will be soon, if Robert has his way. That house of his is shaping up fast. He’s already got the fences repaired and a new roof on the barn.” Joe raised his voice. “Hey, Amy, you sleeping out there?”

  “In this weather? Give me a break! I’ve got to work fast—we’re going to visit my other grandparents this weekend. I thought we were going tomorrow but—”

  “So you won’t be here to go up in Briones with me?”

  “DJ, have you looked outside lately?”

  “It’s goin
g to stop—I know it will. You can go with me, can’t you, Joe?”

  “Nope. Since it’s raining, Mel and I are going into the city to the new art museum and then to the opera.”

  “Opera?” DJ made the word sound disgusting.

  “That’s exactly why we didn’t invite you, though Gran said you could do with some artistic training.”

  “In opera?”

  “Don’t act like it would kill you. You can thank me for saving you from that fate worse than death.”

  “Thanks, Joe. I’ll feed Ranger for you.” DJ retrieved her saddle from the half-door and set it atop the pad. How she would love to be using her new saddle, but she wasn’t about to let it get rained on . . . yet. “Guess I’ll just give Patches an extra-long workout and catch up on some tack cleaning.”

  “Not if you want a ride home.” Joe led Ranger out of his stall and swung aboard. “I’m leaving at eleven.”

  Later DJ wandered around the house, feeling as if her last friend had deserted her. The place felt clammy, so she started a fire in the fireplace, turned on the Christmas tree lights and music, and, after fixing herself a ham and cheese sandwich, brought her sketch pad down to go to work. Now was as good a time as any to get started on those three commissions.

  Sometime later, she looked up and let out a whoop of joy. Sunshine—watery for sure, but real sunshine—beamed in the windows. She ran to the French doors and studied the sky. Even the Western sky shone blue instead of the all-too-usual gray or black.

  She dashed off a quick note to her mother, Gone riding in Briones, grabbed her rain gear, just in case, and pelted out the door. Her rear wheel threw up enough water to soak an elephant on the speed-breaking ride, making DJ glad she’d put on the slicker. She tacked Major up with the same lightning speed and trotted up the trail before anyone could find something else that needed her attention.

  It took great force of will to ignore the nagging voice that reminded her it was always wiser to ride with a buddy. In fact, buddy trail riding was rule of the Academy. It’s not my fault all my buddies are gone. I’m not about to waste the sunshine.