“Where’s Robert?”
“Working late.” This time her mother didn’t even look up. “Good one, Billy. Let’s try again.”
Is she still upset with me from before? DJ didn’t know as she trudged up the stairs.
All the way up, one voice in her mind reminded her that if only she hadn’t left Andrew alone, this wouldn’t have happened. If only she’d been more watchful the day before, she could have chased the cat away before it spooked Patches. If only she’d gotten home on time, her mother might have hugged her.
She snorted at that thought. Her mother didn’t like hugging horsey-smelling jerks like her daughter. Who did?
Brad would. And Jackie.
DJ entered her mother’s bedroom and picked up the phone. But the answering machine came on with Brad’s voice asking the caller to leave a message. DJ set the receiver back in the cradle. They probably went shopping, too. She dialed Joe and Gran’s, hoping they had come home. Another message machine.
She could hear her grandmother’s voice as if Gran were right there. You could talk with God.
“Yeah, right. He’s probably got His answering machine on, too. Maybe He went shopping like everyone else.” DJ dragged herself out of her mother’s room and back to her own. Rain had been threatening on the way home and now poured down the windows.
She picked up her drawing tablet, then set it down to sharpen her drawing pencils. At least she could do that right. But the horse in the portrait looked more like a mule, and her hand was shaking so badly the lines squiggled.
One of Gran’s sayings floated back through her mind. “When you feel like you’re at the end of your rope, pick up your Bible and read until you get a new and stronger hold on that rope.” She always added, “For that rope is God, and He will never let you go.”
DJ picked up her Bible, and it fell open at the Gospel of John. She started reading the underlined verse: For God so loved the world … Her eyes blurred until she couldn’t see. She flung herself across her bed, the tears soaking the bedspread.
God, why am I such a flunker? I try and try, and nothing is ever good enough.
Hearing a sound at the door, she pulled the pillow over her head.
“DJ.”
“Go away.”
She felt her mother sit down on the side of the bed. Her hand felt hot on DJ’s jean-covered leg.
“Daddy’s home,” the boys whispered so loudly it penetrated DJ’s fog.
Tears filled her eyes and ears. Sobs tore at her throat, shaking the bed with the force of her cries. The hand stayed on her leg.
“What’s wrong?” Robert’s voice, quiet and calm.
“DJ’s crying awful bad.”
“I don’t want DJ to cry.”
The boys hovered on the verge of crying, she could hear it in their voices. But her own tears wouldn’t quit. No matter how hard she tried to choke them back.
She couldn’t even quit crying right.
“Darla Jean, what’s wrong?” Her mother’s voice came soft and gentle, sounding so much like Gran’s that DJ cried even harder.
“Come on, boys, it’s time for bed.” Robert again.
“But DJ won’t stop c-crying.”
“I love you, DJ. Please.” The little-boy voice brought on a new attack.
“You can talk with DJ tomorrow.”
“Will she still be crying?” The voices trailed down the hall.
Still her mother sat, stroking her daughter’s leg.
Lindy lay down beside DJ, her arm over her daughter’s heaving back. “Oh, my dear daughter, if I had only known things were this bad.” The stroking continued. “Please forgive me for not paying more attention.”
DJ’s head pounded. She rubbed her face on the bedspread, trying to wipe away the tears.
“Here.” A tissue ended up in DJ’s hand. She propped herself on her elbows and blew her nose.
Robert sat down on the other side of her. “You ready to talk now?”
DJ shook her head. “I … I just can’t d-do anything right.”
“Like?”
DJ told them about all the things that were going wrong. About losing Andrew and letting Mrs. Johnson get hurt. About flunking another algebra test, even when Robert helped her. About trying so hard and never catching up. The list continued.
“And us putting more pressure on you?”
Another run of tears. This time DJ was sitting up with both Lindy’s and Robert’s arms encircling her. More problems flowed out—the noise and bedlam at home all the time, fighting with her mother, the art weekend, giving up Saturdays at the Academy, not riding Major. No time, no time, no time …
“I just can’t ever do anything good enough.” Clutching a clump of tissue, DJ let her hands flop in her lap.
“DJ, if you could quit doing something, what would it be?” Robert laid his hand over hers to stop her from shredding the tissue.
“Algebra.”
“Besides that.” She could hear a smile in his voice.
DJ thought about all the stuff she’d said. I don’t really want to give up the twins or teaching the girls or … “I guess training Omega because I just started that, and teaching Mrs. Johnson. I’ll be done with Bunny’s horse by next weekend.”
“Why do you take on all that extra work?”
“I need the money. I got behind when I was sick, and spring and summer are the most expensive times of the year with all the shows.”
“I see.”
DJ sniffed and blew her nose again. She leaned against her mother, grateful for something to prop her up. All her bones felt like pudding. And her muscles drained out with the tears.
“I … we … ah, DJ wanted a horse and there was no money for that.” Lindy blew her own nose. “I guess I thought she would outgrow her horse phase like other girls do.”
“No, our DJ has big dreams, and she’ll kill herself getting there if we don’t help her.”
Our DJ. How good that sounded.
“You don’t have to help me.” DJ tried to straighten up, but the arms around her didn’t let go.
“Ah, but we do. That’s what being a family is all about, loving and helping one another.” Robert tightened his arm, giving her a hug. “And part of being a family is asking for help. We all get so tied up in what we are doing, we don’t always pay close enough attention to see when one of the family needs help. Especially when you are so strong and capable and hide your needs.”
DJ snorted, then blew her nose again.
“You know, I’ve never had a teenage daughter before.”
“And I’ve never had twin boys—or a husband.” Lindy squeezed this time. “I had you and Gran. We were just starting to work things out on our own when I got married.”
“Guess we all have to cut one another some slack, don’t you think?”
“Easy for you to say.” DJ gave Robert a wobbly smile.
“You’re right, DJ—easy to say and hard to do.”
DJ’s stomach rumbled and grumbled again.
“Did you ever eat?” Lindy asked.
DJ shook her head.
“Me neither, come to think of it.” Robert patted his stomach.
“How about we all go raid the kitchen? There must be something to eat down there.” Lindy got to her feet. “Come on, we can keep talking in the kitchen.”
Later, at the table with plates of bacon and eggs before them, Robert said grace. “And please, dear Father, help us all to love one another as you have loved us. Help us to look and listen and ask for help and guidance when we need it. Bless this food and this family. Amen.”
DJ’s stomach rumbled again.
“I think your stomach is saying amen and let’s eat,” Robert said with a smile.
“Before the food gets cold.” Lindy took a piece of toast from the napkin-lined basket and passed it to DJ.
When they had finished, Robert tented his fingers and tapped them on his chin. “You know, I’ve been thinking about some of the things you said, DJ.”
“Which ones?” she asked before thinking.
“Like about the noise and the boys’ loud playing. I think some of that will be taken care of when we move to the new house, and with Maria helping, your mother and I will have more time to be with you kids. We should be able to move out of these close quarters in about two weeks.”
“That soon?” Lindy wiped her mouth with her napkin.
“Looks that way.”
“Great.”
“I’ve hired a moving company so you won’t have to worry about packing. The new furniture won’t all be there yet, but we’ll have beds and can put this furniture in the family room.”
DJ tried to stifle a yawn. She covered her mouth but still nearly cracked her jaw.
“I have a bargain for you.”
At the look on his face, she instantly became alert. “What?”
“If you will tell Bridget—or we can tell her if you’d rather—” he took Lindy’s hand in his and turned back to DJ—“that you can no longer take on so many responsibilities, then we will gladly pay for any of the things you need beyond what you are able to earn.”
DJ looked to her mother.
Lindy nodded. “Money isn’t such an issue anymore.” She smiled at Robert, then at DJ. “I couldn’t pay for anything extra before.”
“Now we can.”
DJ liked the way he said we. “And?”
“And your part of the bargain will be to get and keep your grades up.”
DJ groaned. “But even with you coaching me, I flunked the last test.”
“So we’ll work harder.”
There was that we word again.
“DJ, all we ask is that you do your best. And that when you need help, you’ll ask for it.”
“Think of all those people the Olympic winners thank. They each had help and plenty of it to get where they are.” Lindy reached for DJ’s hand. “And they always start with their family.”
DJ thought of the twins asleep upstairs. She looked at the man and woman across the table from her. She had Gran and GJ, too, plus Brad and Jackie, and aunts and uncles and cousins. Friends like Amy, and Bridget for a coach. And God, too. He had to be working in all this.
“I’ll have a big list to thank, too. And I won’t try to do my best. I will do my best.”
“Thata girl.” Robert held out his hand and shook hers. “I have a favor to ask.”
DJ looked at him, now whats running through her brain.
“To keep your mother and Gran happy, if I pay your way to the jumping clinic Gray is teaching over in Sacramento, will you please go to the art workshop?”
“You mean I could do both?”
“Joe says he’ll go along, too.”
“When is the one in Sacramento?”
“The following weekend. You have nothing else going on—I checked.” Robert leaned forward.
DJ looked at him. “You really mean I can do both?”
“Yes.”
“Then of course I will. I’m not a total idiot, just stubborn.”
“That’s the understatement of the year. You, my dear daughter, wrote the book on being stubborn. But the other side of being stubborn or bullheaded—” Lindy paused—“is perseverance. And that’s a mighty fine trait to have.”
“Just like a couple of others I know in this family?” Robert asked, rising to his feet. He picked up his dishes and motioned for the others to do the same. “Like you, Lindy, getting your masters in spite of a full-time job and a family, and Gran becoming a nationally known illustrator.”
“Hey, how come you’re so smart about all this family business?” Lindy asked.
“I talked to Pastor Dave at my church in San Francisco, read a couple of books on blended families, and wore my knees down praying. I want us to be the kind of family God talks about in the Bible. I want us to be open and honest and loving.”
“And close?” DJ asked.
“Even in close quarters.” Robert flung an arm over her shoulders. “Especially in close quarters.”
The three of them walked under the arch into the family room, arm in arm.
To Ruby and Pat—
You’ve been with me from the beginning.
Thanks for helping make my life fuller,
richer, and more fun.
Chapter • 1
“New York! You want me to go to New York?”
Gran and Joe both nodded.
“Me, Darla Jean Randall? At only fourteen, I can go to New York City and see Madison Square Garden, where Major and I will jump someday and—”
“It’s not much to see.” Joe Crowder, whom DJ had dubbed GJ for Grandpa Joe, crossed his arms across the broad chest that used to wear the badge of the San Francisco Mounted Police. Until he retired and married DJ’s grandmother, that is. “All you see is an ugly marquee on a dirty street right off Times Square.”
DJ, as Darla Jean demanded everyone call her, finger combed her sun-streaked blond hair up from the sides and to the top of her head. Green eyes sparkled in delight as she looked from one grandparent to the other and back again. “Times Square. Where that big ball drops on New Year’s Eve?”
“Yep, that very spot.”
DJ wrapped her arms around herself and hugged her shoulders. Spinning in place, she crooned, “I’m going to New York. I’m going to New York.” The spin stopped with her facing Gran. Taller by four inches, she looked down at her grandmother. “When? When do we go?”
“Well, first of all, you have to ask your mother and father.”
“Oh … right.” It was still hard to remember that she now had a dad who lived in the same house she did. “And?”
“And we go the second weekend in April.”
“April! N-o-o-o.” DJ’s chin hit her chest, and her shoulders melted. “Why does everything fun have to happen at the same time?”
“Now what?” Joe shifted to draw DJ close with one arm.
“That’s the weekend of the art classes in San Francisco with Isabella Gant.” She gave her grandmother a hopeful glance. “No chance you could change the date?”
“Hardly, darlin’. The date of the award ceremony is set long in advance.” Gran was being honored for her illustrations in the field of children’s literature, and DJ had helped with the drawings of a foal in the book that was receiving the award.
“I knew that. I was just hoping.” She looked at Gran through her long eyelashes. “I could skip—”
“Don’t even go there. You are not missing out on that. I have a feeling that studying drawing with Isabella Gant will be a life-changing experience for you.”
“She can’t be a better teacher than you are.”
“Ah, Darla Jean, you are the light of my life.” Gran wrapped her arms around DJ’s waist—the one DJ often insisted she didn’t have. Straight poles don’t have waists.
“Don’t worry, kid. You’ll be jumping at Madison Square Garden soon enough, and then we’ll do the town.” Joe pushed away from the counter and crossed to the refrigerator. “Got anything to eat in here?” He stuck his head inside the just opened door.
“There are carrots and celery in the drawer, all fixed.”
“More rabbit food?” He groaned. “How about a chunk of cheese or a—”
“Joe Crowder, you know what the doctor said.”
Joe muttered something unintelligible.
“And if you are sneaking something else, you just get out of there.”
He backed out in time to avoid getting smacked by the door Gran had given a hard nudge. “Not fair.” He checked inside the refrigerator again.
DJ and Gran swapped “good grief” looks.
“Come on, GJ, let’s go take care of the horses.” DJ turned to Gran. “Don’t feel bad about the trip—my mother probably wouldn’t have let me go anyway. She doesn’t like her daughter to have too much fun.”
Joe snapped upright, slamming the fridge door. “Not her fault you let your grades fall—and don’t be a smart mouth. It doesn’t sound or look goo
d on you.”
DJ at least had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry.” But it’s true, she thought. My mother is more interested in the twins than me most of the time. And she’s rabid about my grades. All because of that stupid algebra. And now Joe was on her case, too. She hunched her shoulders. Why couldn’t she learn to keep her mouth shut?
Waving good-bye to Gran, she followed Joe out to the forest green Explorer.
“So what brought that up?” Joe turned the ignition, and the Explorer’s engine roared to life.
“What?” DJ assumed her most innocent expression.
“Don’t give me that.” The sound of his voice more than his words told her he’d kicked into policeman mode. And as he’d often said, he’d been a master interrogator during his days with the force.
And still was.
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do—just think about it. You and your mother must have gotten into it again.”
“Come on, Joe. When don’t we?”
“And you’d never exaggerate, either, would you?” He flipped the turn signal.
“Me? Never.”
He turned into the driveway of Briones Riding Academy, where they both stabled their horses and DJ taught beginning riding, trained a rowdy gelding, and took lessons in both jumping and dressage.
When she started to open the door, Joe stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Isn’t the algebra coaching with Robert helping any?”
“Not much.” DJ looked up at him, shaking her head. “How come I’m so dumb in math when I can get pretty good grades in about everything else?”
“You’re not dumb. And I don’t ever want to hear you say so again. But some people do seem to have a block in some areas. You are good with words and are an incredible artist—that comes from the creative side of the brain, the right side. Math comes from the left side, the analytical side, and that’s not where your strengths lie. But sticking with the math will help develop that area.”
“GJ, I even pray about the problems before I do them, but God doesn’t seem to be listening—or else He doesn’t care if I do algebra, either.”
High Hurdles Collection Two Page 14