High Hurdles Collection Two

by Lauraine Snelling

  Chapter • 5

  “Okay, listen up. This is our last class before the show.”

  The giggling stopped, but DJ had to admit the girls were in a wild mood. Andrew watched them as though they were some strange creatures from a distant planet. He sat on Bandit like he’d been riding for years, a picture that made DJ want to giggle herself. Andrew had come so far from the terrified little boy who used all his courage and then some just to touch the horse.

  And people said kids weren’t influenced by television. He’d seen someone get seriously hurt by a horse on TV and had been afraid ever since. But no longer. Or at least so it appeared today.

  DJ knew how fear could leap out and attack at the oddest moments.

  “Andrew, since you’re the only one who seems to be listening, why don’t you lead out? Circle the ring to the right at a walk.”

  Andrew grinned at her and gathered his reins, then nudged Bandit into a walk. The others fell in behind him, shooting DJ smiles that told her they knew what she was doing. Between the three girls and her, Andrew got all the pats he needed.

  “Krissie, what’s with your hands today? Angie, are you all right? Looks to me like you’re having trouble breathing.”

  “I am, but it’s getting better.” The girl with long brown hair worn in a single braid coughed a couple of times.

  DJ beckoned her to the center of the ring. “The rest of you keep walking.”

  Angie coughed again, this time what seemed like forever.

  “Do you need to use your inhaler?”

  “Um.”

  DJ took hold of the horse’s reins. “Do you have it with you?”

  Angie nodded as she fished in her pocket and withdrew the gray plastic inhaler. She coughed again before putting it in front of her open mouth. Letting all her air out, she depressed the button. She inhaled and tried to hold her breath, but the coughing started again.

  DJ forced herself to remain calm. Last summer she’d seen Angie go into a major attack because of a beesting, and ever since then, she had a healthy respect for the terrors of asthma. “Take it easy and try again. You’re doing fine, Angie, easy now.” She kept her voice in the same gentle singsong she used with panicky horses.

  Angie did the routine again and this time managed to hold her breath to the count of five. DJ knew because she counted in her head. “That’s much better. Is it helping?”

  Angie nodded. “Th-thanks.” She squeezed the inhaler again, and this time her face lost the pinched look. She stuck the inhaler back in her pocket. “What am I gonna do, DJ, if something like this happens while I’m in the ring? Maybe I shouldn’t try to show after all.”

  “You’ve shown before and were fine. What happened to trigger this attack?” DJ let her shoulders drop and swallowed her own fear. She felt light-headed from trying to breathe for Angie. Thank you, God. You took care of us again. Sorry I didn’t even get around to asking for help.

  “I don’t know. I was fine at the barn, and then when I rode into the ring, I started coughing.” Angie coughed again, but this time she could breathe deeper. “Thanks, DJ.”

  DJ looked up to see the other riders in a half ring around them, about ten feet away. Their faces wore the solemn look of concern. “Okay, kids, let’s get back to work.”

  “Angie going to be okay?” Krissie asked, her blue eyes serious for a change. Her curly blond hair caught the glint of the sun.

  “Sure, she’s fine now. Get going.” DJ just hoped Angie was as fine as she looked. And everything had been going just great. Now, how could she not worry like a mother hen when the girls went in the ring?

  “That sure scared me,” Samantha, the more serious of the three girls, whispered before turning away.

  The rest of the class went by without incident. Her students walked, jogged, or in Andrew’s case, trotted, and when the girls signaled their horses to lope, he kept on posting at the trot like DJ ordered. They all reversed and on command came to a halt in the center of the ring.

  “You all need to wash your horses on Thursday and clean your tack. Samantha, looks to me like your horse needs shoeing.”

  “Am … am I going to show?” Andrew’s voice trembled.

  DJ shook her head. “No, this is a Western show. We have a schooling show coming up in a couple of weeks, and if you want to enter, you can then.”

  “We all started in schooling shows,” Angie said with a smile down at the boy on the pony beside her.

  “I … I don’t have to show if I don’t want to.” Andrew patted Bandit’s neck.

  “That’s right.” DJ pointed them all to the gate. “See you later.”

  “Thanks, DJ,” Angie called back.

  DJ knew the girl was referring to more than the riding lesson. She followed the girls out of the ring and headed to the barn to saddle Major.

  “What happened out there?” Joe asked.

  “Angie had an asthma attack. Scared me spitless.” Since DJ had already groomed her horse, she saddled him as she talked.

  “Couldn’t tell. You looked cool as a cucumber out there.” Joe stripped the saddle off Ranger.

  “That spitless thing is true, you know. I couldn’t even swallow, but then I coulda fainted, I was trying so hard to breathe for Angie.” She stopped after buckling the girth and leaned her forehead against the saddle. “Joe, I was so scared. What if she fell off her horse or passed out? She did one time.”

  “I know. But you handled things both times with the best of your ability and God’s help.” Joe hung his saddle over the aluminum bars and came into Major’s stall. “We’ll all just have to add Angie to our prayer lists on show days. If she feels she can do this, we sure don’t want to discourage her.”

  “I know.” DJ sucked in a deep breath and let it all out so she could relax. Shaking hands never did much for good riding, along with wobbly knees.

  “Are you jumping today?”

  “On Megs.” She tried to chuckle, and it came out a croak. “Besides, Major and I need some flatwork anyway. Review for the dressage class tomorrow. I’ve skipped a couple of days, and you know what that does to our strength and suppleness.”

  “If it’s anything like mine, you are in deep trouble.” He rubbed his middle back. “I’ve got to watch this muscle. When Ranger zigs, it wants to zag, so it can gripe.”

  “Gran gives good back rubs.”

  “Don’t I know it.” He patted DJ’s shoulder. “You better now?”

  She nodded and sighed again. “Being a teacher, coach, whatever you call me, is the pits sometimes. Come on, Major, we got work to do.”

  And work they did. She had Major trot circles, serpentines, turns on the forehand, and turns on haunches. They did them one way of the ring and then the other. By the end of the workout, they were both dripping with sweat.

  Wednesday DJ woke with butterflies as bad as, if not worse than, on a show day. She and Amy had to present their business to Mr. Mann’s class. And John Yamamoto was in that class. DJ ranked speaking before a bunch of kids right up there with algebra finals. Maybe she should crawl back under the covers and claim stomach flu. Her midsection felt about that bad.

  “Why the long face?” Robert asked when she made it to the kitchen.

  “Hi, DJ, we’s going to Grandma’s again. She says we paint good.”

  DJ looked over at the door of the refrigerator that was nearly hidden behind their paintings. “Looks good to me, too. Wish I could come.” The thought sent her spiraling back through the years. Gran had taught her painting, too, and look where it had gotten her. “Gran’s a great teacher. You two have fun.” She patted their heads as she set her cereal bowl down on the table.

  She looked up at Robert. “Amy and I are talking to the business class today.”

  “Uh-oh. Public speaking, the bane of human existence.” He waved a pancake turner in the air. “You want some bacon?”

  DJ shook her head. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

  “Funny, that’s what your mother said. She�
�s hiding under the covers.

  Guess we give up bacon around here for a while.” He bit into a crispy slice. “Boys, here comes the bacon.”

  “I’ve got good news for everyone,” Robert added. “Maria is well enough to come back to work.” Maria Ramos had been the boys’ nanny since their mother died. The young woman had been so sick from pneumonia that she’d been recuperating at her sister’s house since the winter.

  “Oh.” That means Mom will go back to work. DJ chewed her granola and thought about that. Things sure had been nicer around here with Mom home. But Maria would do the cooking and cleaning and watch the boys until someone else came home.

  “Yay, Maria’s coming back.” The Double Bs bounced in their chairs.

  “Maria bakes good cookies.” Bobby—or was it Billy—told her. If only they would make sure they sat in the same chair all the time or wore a Band-Aid, which wasn’t unusual.

  “Mom does, too.” DJ tried to remember when her mother had baked cookies. Surely she could bake good cookies.

  Getting up from the table, DJ set her bowl and spoon in the sink, then drained her glass of orange juice. “Bye, guys, have fun at school.”

  Queenie dogged her back upstairs, then down again to sit at the door, tail sweeping the floor. DJ bent over to pat her and got a lightning face washing in return. “Bye, dog. You be good, too. Why don’t you go up and see if you can help Mom feel better.” Queenie wagged her tail again and put one paw up on DJ’s knee.

  The horn honking reminded DJ to sling her pack on her back and use both hands to pick up the box of business things she’d collected. Since the move into the new house, she and Amy kept the extra card packets in DJ’s closet.

  “The anticipation is always worse than the doing,” Robert called as he heard her open the door.

  “Thanks for the advice … sorta,” she called back and headed for the car.

  DJ and Amy hustled their things into Mr. Mann’s classroom between classes, which sent the butterflies trying new feats of fluttering. “You do all the talking, and I’ll cheer you on,” DJ whispered. “Get real.” They took seats at the back of the room. “Today we have two guests,” Mr. Mann said to his class as soon as they’d settled down. “Amy Yamamoto and DJ Randall have begun a business of their own, and so far it is doing very well. They have developed and produced a line of greeting cards using drawings and photos of horses. It was suggested that they come to us and see if we might have some good advice to offer. DJ, Amy, the floor is yours.”

  DJ wished she could crawl out of the room on the floor that was supposedly hers.

  Amy nudged her. “Come on.”

  They picked up their two boxes and walked to the front of the room, where they set up a display on the edge of the chalkboard and the table. Then they stood next to each other, took deep breaths, and Amy began. They took turns describing what they had done, where the cards were selling, which sold the best, and their idea for a business name. When they finished, the teacher asked if there were any questions.

  When one of the students asked more about costs, Amy handed out a paper she’d prepared with that information.

  “Cool,” DJ whispered.

  Mr. Mann took over the board and wrote down suggestions. That flew along with questions, fast and furious. No one wanted to leave when the bell rang.

  “I think we should take this on as a class project,” one boy from the middle aisle suggested.

  “Me too” came from around the room.

  “I take it that is an agreement?” Mr. Mann said, looking around the room.

  When everyone nodded, he turned to the girls. “How about we set up an after-school meeting for next Wednesday? Those who can come, do so. Then we’ll plan for further meetings. Is that all right with you?”

  DJ started to say something, but Amy poked her and said, “That would be great. Thank you.”

  As the students left the room, several stopped and admired the cards. “You ought to put these in the school store,” one said. “I’d buy them.”

  “Me too,” said another. “I love horses.”

  John nodded to them as he and another boy walked out.

  “You did very well,” Mr. Mann told them as they gathered up their things. “I’ve never seen this group so excited about anything. We’ll discuss what we can do during class and begin to lay out a proposed plan. I know of a couple of businesspeople I’d like to bring in to speak on the issues of production and marketing. If you can get away from your classes again, you are welcome to come hear them, too. But we’ll make sure you get the information. I have a list of books that might be helpful for you to read, and you’re welcome to use my class library of books, videos, and audio tapes.”

  “I think I’m about blown away,” DJ admitted as she and Amy picked up their things. “I never thought about how much we needed to know.”

  “You’ve done well without a lot of experience. I’m happy to help.”

  “Can you believe that?” Amy said once they were alone in the hallway, her eyes wide. “That was totally awesome.”

  “I can’t believe we’re going to be late to our next class if we don’t hustle.”

  After school, DJ climbed into the truck with her box on her lap. “Joe, you shoulda been there.”

  “I take it the meeting went well.”

  “An understatement for sure.” Amy climbed in and slammed the door.

  “Might hot-fudge sundaes help calm you two?”

  “Hot-fudge sundaes are good for any time.” DJ leaned her head on the seat back. “Man, I feel like I’ve been jumping a six-foot stone wall without a horse.”

  “Are you in over your head yet?”

  “Joe, it’s like we’re walking on the bottom of the ocean, so deep we can’t even see daylight.” Amy flopped like DJ.

  How am I gonna do all this? DJ’s mind raced. School, classes at the Academy, shows, our business … sheesh. “This all makes me tired just thinking about it.”

  “Me too. Maybe two hot-fudge sundaes.”

  What is Mom going to say now?

  That evening, DJ called her grandmother. “Would it be okay if I came over for a while? I really need to talk with you.”

  “Of course, darlin’, you know you can always come here.”

  “I know. See you in a couple of minutes.”

  DJ hung up the phone, snagged her latest foal drawing from her easel, and took the stairs two at a time. “I’m going to Gran’s, okay?”

  “Sure, but don’t be out after dark,” her mother called back from the family room. “Tell Joe and Mother to come over for dessert later if they’d like.”

  “ ’Kay.” DJ thought of getting her bike out but decided she could jog the short distance just as fast.

  “I have our tea all ready,” Gran said when DJ came through the door. “And cookies.”

  “Mmm, smells good in here. You’ve been baking?”

  “She sure has.” Joe picked up the tray he’d prepared. “You two want kitchen or living room? I’m going out to work in the garden,” he answered in response to the questioning look DJ sent him.

  “Living room.” Gran hooked her arm in DJ’s. “I’ve needed a heart-to-heart with you for some time, darlin’. I’m so glad you called.”

  Joe set the tray down on the footstool in front of Gran’s new wing chair. “Save me some cookies, you hear?” He winked at DJ as he snagged a cookie from the plate.

  “Oh, Mom said to invite you over for dessert later. I almost forgot.”

  Joe and Gran looked at each other and both shrugged. “Sure.”

  Gran took her place in the chair, and DJ looked up at her from her seat on the floor. While DJ had always thought her grandmother a beautiful woman, studying her beloved face in the lamplight, she realized it afresh. Gran wore love and serenity like a gossamer shawl or a second skin. Her silvering hair feathered back on the sides and waved down on one side of her forehead. DJ looked closely—sure enough, there was a dab of cerise oil paint on the side of her c
hin. She’d often thought Gran resembled a meadowlark, with a song of praise raised in the morning.

  DJ inhaled. Fragrant cinnamon apple tea, chocolate cookies, and Gran’s rosewater perfume. She always smelled fresh like the flowers she loved but without the thorns. DJ sighed and leaned against her grandmother’s knee, the way she used to sit so often when they lived in their old house, before Gran married Joe.

  “What’s up, child?” Gran stroked DJ’s hair.

  DJ told her all about the business, school, and her art class. She showed her drawing and finally ran down to a close.

  “Is that all?” Gran poured more tea in both their cups.

  “Um, I think so. I … I just feel sometimes like I might snap like a rubber band that got pulled too hard, you know what I mean?”

  “Sure do. And I’m not surprised you feel that way. Everyone does at times, and the pace you go …” Gran shook her head and chuckled. “Darlin’, you make me feel like a slacker at times.”

  DJ traced circles on the knee of her jeans.

  “That’s not all, is it?”

  “No.” DJ turned and looked up at her grandmother, set aglow by the lamplight. She held up her left hand. “Gran, I’ve got to get over this fear of fire thing. It is so crazy that I freeze when I see fire.” DJ looked at the small scar in the palm of her hand. “I know you’re going to say we should pray about it. I have prayed about it—lots. But nothing seems to happen.”

  Gran sighed and nodded. “Sometimes it seems that way all right. Why don’t the two of us pray together now, not only for the fear to go away but for wisdom in dealing with this.”

  DJ nodded and, with her hands clasped in Gran’s, bowed her head. Silence surrounded them—the kind of silence that is so full of peace, it makes your eyes water. DJ sniffed and leaned her head on Gran’s knee.

  “Father in heaven, DJ and I come to you with a special purpose tonight. We thank you for the great love you have for us and for the way you take care of us.”

  DJ sniffed again. Come on, Randall, get a grip.

  “We ask that you help Darla Jean in overcoming this fear of fire. Give us wisdom to understand and the strength to carry out whatever it takes to help her through this. Father, we know we are your children and that your promises are ours. You said ‘Fear not, be not afraid,’ and that’s what this precious girl wants, freedom from fear. We thank you that you hear us and that you will answer in your time and your way. In Jesus’ precious name, amen.”