High Hurdles Collection Two

by Lauraine Snelling

  Sure, add smile. DJ kept up a running inner monologue, but what Jackie said was true. When she smiled and relaxed, she sat deeper. With that, combined with her legs and holding the reins, she could feel Herndon come down. A smile, enjoy. She wasn’t riding the Olympics yet, after all.

  And you can bet you’ll have to be relaxed then.

  When Brad rode Matadorian into the ring, DJ was more than ready for a break. Both she and Herndon were sweating, and it wasn’t because the sun was shining on them.

  The next few days were repeats of the first one, with DJ dividing her time between Stormy and learning more about showing and working with Herndon both on dressage and jumping. The tall bay loved flying over jumps as much as she did. But unlike Major, who would try whatever she wanted, Herndon made her work for each jump.

  If she faltered, he faltered. They had one bad takeoff, and DJ ended up on his neck.

  “That was close.” Jackie stroked Herndon’s sweaty neck and looked up at DJ.

  Her heart was still pounding like a runaway drum.

  “So what did you do wrong? Or not do right?”

  DJ thought. “I was behind, not up and over him enough.”

  “Good thing you have good balance, huh?” Jackie patted her knee.

  Saturday afternoon DJ played with all the babies out in the pasture. They gathered around her for treats and raced her across the pasture. They quickly learned that she hid treats in her pockets and nosed her jacket after she said “no more.” Smart horses that they were, they knew there were usually more.

  “Hey, have you heard about Monty Roberts, the man who listens to horses?” Brad asked on the way home from church on Sunday morning.

  “No, what about him?”

  “He wrote a book called The Man Who Listens to Horses. He has a pretty different way of breaking horses and says he can break any horse and be riding it within half an hour. He’s been all over the world teaching people about it. You want to go to one of his clinics sometime? He lives down in Southern California.”

  “Sure. What does he do different?”

  “He watches the horse’s body language for ‘joining up’ signals, for one thing. He’s always gentle.”

  “Sounds cool.”

  “I’ll give you my copy of his book.” He winked at her. “You can use it for a book report. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Bradley Atwood, that’s a terrible analogy to use.” Jackie loved birds and had feeders all around their house.

  “Sorry.” Brad looked at DJ in the rearview mirror. “You need to attend every clinic you can find if you’re going for A levels.”

  “Not necessarily.” Jackie disagreed with a smile. “You have an excellent trainer in Bridget, so the clinics are like the pickle on a hamburger. The better the pickle, the better the burger, but the meat is still the same.”

  “So what part are you?” DJ grinned and cocked her head.

  “I’m the bun, and she’s the cheese,” Brad offered.

  Even with their teasing, DJ felt like she was being sucked under by a huge wave. She’d be going home to a new house, all this training Brad was talking about, shows back to back … And what was her mother going to say about all this?

  “What’s wrong?” Jackie asked.

  “Nothing.” DJ made herself sit up straight and smile. “Nothing at all.”

  Liar, her little voice shrieked in her ear.

  Chapter • 7

  “I think it’s time for a family meeting.”

  DJ looked up from packing her duffel. Brad lounged against the doorframe of the room that had come to be her own. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, the way it appears to me, you have more family now than you know what to do with. And most of them have no idea what it’s going to take to help you get where you want to go.”

  “Me neither,” she muttered as she rolled a sweat shirt and stuck it in the side.

  “And at this point in your life, you don’t even know if you have what it takes to be an Olympic rider.”

  “Gran says you can do anything if you want to bad enough and work hard for it.” She stood upright. “And I do both.”

  “Deej, I know you do, and that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m sure Bridget—in fact, I think she should be in on this meeting—has talked about her life in world competition. The stresses and expense and all.”

  “Nope, she hasn’t. Not to us kids, anyway. She believes in the—what do you call it?” DJ wrinkled her nose to help her think better. “Oh, the need-to-know principle. She’s a pretty private person.”

  “Ummm.” Brad nodded with a faraway look in his eye. “Guess I better get to know Bridget better, too.” He studied DJ through slightly closed eyes.

  “What?”

  “Just thinking. I know it is important to take one day at a time, but long-range planning is more valuable than you know.”

  “No, it’s not. I mean, I know that. I’ve been planning on jumping in the Olympics for the last three years. I knew I had to learn to ride and I did. I had to get a horse and I did. And now I’m learning to jump and ride dressage. Right on track for my long-range plans.”

  “You’re right. Come on, let’s get you home before your mother comes looking for you. How does next weekend sound for this major meeting?”

  She grabbed her duffel and her drawing case. “Nope. I’ll be at the art thing in San Francisco, and Gran and Joe will be in New York for the award ceremony. Did I tell you she got an award for her artwork? Contributions to children’s literature, they call it. She wanted me to go along since I helped her on the foal in that book.”

  “Darla Jean Randall, you are one mighty talented young lady. You have no idea how proud I am to know you.” Brad took her duffel and slung his other arm over her shoulders.

  “Is Jackie coming?”

  “She’d better be since we’re stopping in Sonoma for dinner on the way. How does Mexican sound?”

  “Good. Can we stop and get some of that cheese?”

  “Sonoma Jack?”

  “Yeah, Mom really likes that. Especially the pesto one.”

  The closer she got to home, the quieter DJ grew.

  “Hey, you sleeping back there?” Brad reached over the seat and patted her knee.

  “No.”

  “So what’s going through that blond head of yours?”

  “Now, we’ll have no blond jokes.” Jackie looked over her shoulder. “Right, DJ?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her fingernails screamed to be trimmed—with her teeth. One was so rough it snagged on her sweater.

  “You want to talk?” Brad’s voice turned serious. “We can stop in Vallejo and get a Coke or something.”

  Do I want to talk? How do I know? What’s wrong with me, anyway? Had a great time, and now I don’t want to go home.

  Brad swung into a fast-food place and ordered three drinks, then parked the car. He and Jackie both turned in their seats so they could see DJ.

  “So what did Lindy say when you talked with her?”

  “Oh … the move went well, they like the new house, that kind of stuff.”

  “You think that might have anything to do with the way you’re feeling?”

  “Why?” DJ sipped her drink.

  “Well, they say that moving rates right up there near the top of the stress scale, along with fear of dying and public speaking.”

  “But I wasn’t even there. The movers did the whole thing.”

  “Do you like the new house?”

  “I guess; what’s not to like?”

  “Sometimes just the change is hard,” Jackie added. “I’d be kind of concerned if it were me.”

  “Mom says I should be thrilled to have such a neat room. And we’ll all have plenty of space and …” And I want to go back to my own room and the yard Gran and I made and—and I just want to go back. She knew she meant back before her mother got married and back before Gran got married, back to the way things used to be. But that was crazy. Then she wouldn’t hav
e Major or Joe or Brad and Jackie and …

  “Things just get all messed up.”

  “Yeah, life’s like that. It’ll probably get worse.”

  “What a big help you are.” Jackie pushed Brad’s arm off the back of the seat.

  “How’s the algebra coming?”

  “Not to change the subject or anything.” Jackie shook her head at Brad. “You keep it up and DJ will probably never come back.”

  “Fat chance.” DJ felt her hands relax. “I think I’m beginning to get it, the algebra, I mean. Robert’s a good coach, and like Amy said, I gotta quit saying ‘I can’t do algebra.’ So now I always say ‘I can do algebra,’ and I’m trying to give it the same focus I do riding.”

  “Wow, that’s a major step forward.”

  “I don’t always make it.”

  “No, but it looks to me like you hit it right on the head. Some coach once told his team, ‘If you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.’ Makes a lot of sense when you think about it.”

  “Bridget never lets us say ‘try’ or ‘I can’t.’ Man, you want to see her go ballistic, just say ‘I can’t.’ She comes off the wall.”

  “Bridget? That cool-as-a-cucumber blond dynamo I met?”

  “Well, you might not see it so much as hear it. Only an idiot would do it twice. No excuses, either—just own up to yes or no.”

  “Sounds to me like that woman is the perfect coach for you.” Jackie sent DJ a special smile. “I wish I’d had someone like that when I was beginning. It keeps you from developing a heap of bad habits.”

  “You ready to go home now?” Brad set his empty drink container on the floor.

  “I guess.” And amazingly, she was.

  But when they stopped at the new house instead of driving up to the old one, she had a hard time making herself open the door. “You want to come in?”

  Brad and Jackie swapped looks, then Jackie said, “I think we’ll pass this time. Your mother probably has enough on her hands with the move and all. We’ll come see the new house later.”

  DJ climbed out, hauling her stuff with her. With her duffel and drawing kit in one hand, she reached back in for her boots. “Thanks for everything.”

  Brad got out and gave her a hug. “Hang in there, kid. You’re going to make it.”

  “Thanks.” She started to walk away.

  “And, Deej, remember, if you need to talk, we’re just a phone call away.”

  “ ’Kay.”

  Lights nestled in among the plants lining the walk up to the front door. Last time she’d been here, there’d been no lights, no plants, and come to think of it, the sidewalk curved now instead of lying straight. She took the three steps up to the porch slowly, each feeling more like a mountain than the one before. The double-wide front doors looked big enough to front a church. It was so quiet. Was anyone even home?

  She turned the knob. When the door opened, she waved at Brad. He honked and backed out of the drive. DJ didn’t even have a key in case they’d been gone.

  Now she knew what going through a time warp must feel like. The chandelier in the entry reflected in the marble floor, but like the sunken living room off to the right, the space was empty. The stairs to the “children’s wing,” as her mother called it, curved up to the left, and an open walkway led to the new wing. The vaulted ceilings made her think she should whisper, like in church.

  The temptation to just go on up to her room, if she could find the way, pulled her toward the stairs. But instead, she set her things down and followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, dining, family room, all in one.

  Whatever did they need all this space for, anyway?

  “Hi, I’m ho—here.”

  “DeeJay!” The twins leaped up from their old familiar sofa and pelted across the room, Velcroing themselves to her legs.

  “We missed you.”

  “You was gone too long.”

  “Did you see your room?”

  “Our room is this big.” Arms stretched wide. Her right leg got a chance to breathe.

  “Okay, guys, back off. Give DJ a chance to catch up.”

  She patted each of the blond heads and disentangled her legs. The boys rolled on the floor, so she gave each of them a tickle, then crossed to the marble counter and laid a sack on it. “For you, Mom. Well, for everyone, but …”

  Lindy opened it up. “Oh, cheese. Sonoma Jack cheese with pesto. Right from Sonoma.”

  “I got the funny ends out of the barrel. You get more that way.”

  “Let’s have some. There must be crackers here somewhere.” Robert started slamming cupboard doors.

  “Thanks, DJ.” Her mother came around the counter to kiss DJ’s cheek. “Over there, in that one.” She pointed to a cupboard by the stainless-steel double-door refrigerator.

  “Mommy, we want cheese.”

  “Yes, darlings, in a minute.” She turned back to DJ. “There’s sparkling cider in the refrigerator. You want to get that out? We’ve been waiting for you so we could celebrate moving into our new house. Cheese was the perfect thing to bring. Oh, and there’s a tray of sliced apples and pears, too.” She reached up into another cupboard and brought down the wine glasses. “Here, Robert, pour it into these.”

  He popped the cork just like a champagne bottle and poured the fizzing liquid into the glasses. “Okay, now, everyone—no, guys, you don’t drink it yet—we’re going to make a toast.”

  “Toast?”

  “We’s drinking juice, not toast.”

  “Just hold your glasses up like this, okay?” Robert demonstrated.

  The boys giggled and did as told.

  Standing next to her mother, DJ followed suit.

  “To our new home. May Jesus Christ bless us here and dwell within our home and in our hearts.” Robert touched his glass to Lindy’s, then DJ’s and the boys’. Once all the glasses touched, they drank to their new home.

  They didn’t even ask how my week went. DJ set her glass in the sink and helped herself to the cheese and crackers. At least I did one thingright by bringing home the cheese.

  “Your bed’s all made up and everything,” Lindy said after mopping up a spill on the counter. “I told them to just leave the boxes—that you’d unpack them later.”

  “Okay. Did anyone call for me?”

  “Oh yes, Amy and Mrs. Johnson.” Lindy glanced at the clock. “It’s not too late to return the calls. Thanks to Robert, you have a private phone line in your room.” Lindy’s rolled eyes gave her opinion on that.

  “A private phone? Me?” When she looked at Robert, he nodded.

  “You’re a young lady now, and I thought you might like that, even though you aren’t a phone hog.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Gran says she plans to take you shopping for art supplies. She about went nuts when she saw the wall of built-ins for your drawing things. I got dibs on buying the easel. We can set the spotlights for wherever you want them.” He stopped a moment. “Would you mind if we made a big copy of your Stormy drawing and hung it over the fireplace?” He pointed to the blank area above the mantel. Bookshelves lined the walls on either side of the fieldstone fireplace. A fire crackled even though it wasn’t really cold enough to need the heat.

  DJ went to stand in front of it. She looked up at the wall. “I guess. Are you sure that’s what you want there?”

  Robert came to stand beside her. “We’ll have it matted and framed. Unless there is another picture of yours you like better?”

  “No, I can’t … I just …”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Well, you’ve been looking at decorator stuff, and that’s … I mean … well, I’m just a kid and not a great artist.”

  “Yet.” He laid an arm across her shoulders and drew her into his side. “Nothing would please me more than to hang one of your early drawings there. Someday we can say, ‘We knew her when … ’ ”

  DJ looked up to see him smiling down at her. “You really mean that, don’t you?�
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  “Just wait and see how fast we can get it done. You want to help pick out the frame? I saw one that had weathered-looking wood and some leather. Seemed to be begging to frame a horse.”

  “Thanks.” The warm glow that rose from her toes clear to the top of her hair had nothing to do with the blazing fire. How come one second she could feel like a block of ice and the next be like a bud blossoming in springtime? This up-and-down stuff was getting to be a drag.

  “DJ, come see your room.”

  “See ours, too.”

  So much for the warm moment. She let the twins pull her by the hands, through the arched door and up the stairs. They chattered nonstop until Robert, who followed close behind, clapped a hand over one mouth.

  “Remember, that’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  Good thing she hadn’t been really listening.

  Bobby or Billy, one or the other, pushed open the door to her room and the other pulled her in.

  Her room glowed in the desert colors taken from a horse picture by a famous southwest artist. The framed print took up a good part of the wall above her bed. Even the comforter on the bed swirled like a desert sunset. Bookshelves, cubbyholes, slots for canvas or poster board, thin drawers, deep drawers, and doors all covered one entire wall. She had as much storage space as the art room at school, and this was arranged better. Her poster of the horse jumping through the five Olympic rings held the place of honor between the windows on the south wall.

  “Don’t you like it, DJ?”

  “You don’t say nothing.”

  DJ squatted down between the two boys. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You could say it’s pretty.”

  “I think it’s pretty.”

  “Oh man, so do I.” She ruffled their hair and stood up to give first Robert, then her mother a hug. “Thank you.”

  “Gran and I helped the decorator. Gran knew you liked this artist.”

  “But you said … the boxes …”

  “I know.” Lindy giggled and put an arm around DJ’s waist. Robert did the same from the other side. “We wanted to surprise you.”

  “You did.” DJ nodded, then shook her head. “You sure did.” She hugged both her parents at the same time. When they hugged her back, she felt like the middle of a sandwich. Gran and Joe sometimes gave her the same feeling.