High Hurdles Collection Two

by Lauraine Snelling

  “So who is this Sean?”

  Now it was DJ’s turn to blush. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck. “A friend I met at a drawing class.”

  “A friend, eh?” Karen looked back at the front of the card. “I’d say he’s quite an artist already.”

  “He is.” And a good friend, too. DJ closed her eyes for a moment. Will I ever draw again? From the look of her hands right now, both drawing and riding seemed utter impossibilities. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes. “You have to tell me about your date, promise?”

  “I will.”

  That night, just before DJ went to sleep, two people holding hands snuck into her room.

  “Karen, what … ?”

  “Hi. Karen said you wanted to know how our date went.” Allen White looked as handsome and nice in the dim light as before.

  “Well, I mean, I …”

  “Look at that, DJ can’t think of anything to say.” Karen giggled and patted DJ’s leg.

  “I can think of something.” Allen gave Karen a look that said more than all his words. “Thanks, DJ, for making her go out with me. If it hadn’t been for you, I never would have met her.”

  DJ swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Could you hand me a drink, please?”

  Exactly two weeks later, DJ went home. The skin grafts took and were spreading. The new artificial skin they used worked even better than her own skin taken from her lower back. The list of instructions was longer than her arm, and she was scheduled for more cleansing treatments at the John Muir Medical Center, only a twenty-minute drive from her house.

  Though DJ slept most of the way home, the walk from the car and up the stairs to her bedroom had her in near collapse by the time she could crawl into her own bed.

  She stared around the room at all the signs and posters welcoming her home. “Wow. Who did all that?”

  “Bobby and Billy did some.”

  “I can tell theirs.”

  “And each of the rest of us, and Amy and Shawna, and the one with the paw prints you can guess.”

  “How’d they get Queenie to walk in red paint?”

  “It wasn’t easy.” Lindy shuddered. “Took two hours to scrub the paint off the deck.”

  “Where are the boys?”

  “At Gran’s. Joe has them hog-tied over there so we can get you settled in first. Then he’ll let them loose.” Robert brought in a box with more of her treasures from the hospital. Most of her balloons that hadn’t deflated she’d sent to the pediatric ward or given to others on her floor. The bear and the fireman’s hat sat on the bed beside her.

  DJ leaned back against a mound of pillows. “I’m so glad to be home.” She’d been in the hospital for more than a month.

  Lindy sat down on the bed beside her daughter. “I was beginning to think the hospital was home. At least now you’ll be able to sleep without people waking you all night.”

  “Mom, are you sure we can do this? I mean, I take a lot of taking care of.”

  “We’ll hire help if we need to. Maria says she can sleep on a mattress here in your room if we need her to. She was all ready to move her bed up here yesterday.”

  “She is so good to me.” DJ rolled her bottom lip. “How … I mean, what if I have to go to the bathroom in the night?”

  “See this?” Lindy pointed to a box sitting on the edge of DJ’s desk. “This is a baby intercom set up so we can hear in our bedroom. We’ll put a speaker in the kitchen, too.”

  “A baby intercom?”

  “Parents usually hang this on a crib so they can hear what the baby is doing when they are in another part of the house.”

  “Fifteen years old, and I’ve got a baby intercom.”

  “The boys were using it to call Queenie. It about drove her nuts.”

  No matter how tired she was, DJ could feel a giggle rising. Leave it to her two little brothers.

  “Speaking of the angels …” Lindy pushed herself upright. “Here they come.”

  “DJ! DJ!” Their yells preceded them, as did feet pounding up the stairs. Despite GJ’s injunctions to slow down, they plowed to a stop at the door. Lindy stood right in the middle of it.

  “Okay, what are the rules?”

  “Don’t bump DJ’s hands. Stay off the bed.”

  “And?”

  Silence. DJ could picture their puzzled faces as they tried to remember what the third rule was.

  “That’s right. Be quiet.” Lindy stepped aside, and the two tiptoed into the room until they saw DJ and, matching shrieks, broke loose. They planted hands on hips and their feet at the edge of the bed.

  “We missed you. Are you all better? Did you see Queenie? Can we bring General up to see you? Can you come to the barn?” Their words tumbled faster, accelerating like a wagon rolling downhill.

  “How come you’re wearing balloons on your hands? Do you like our signs? Can you play checkers? Grandpa taught us to play checkers.”

  DJ didn’t answer but just enjoyed the onslaught of questions.

  “Mommy, can we go get Queenie? She’s crying.”

  “She can wait in the garage a few more minutes.”

  “She missed DJ, too. Do your hands hurt bad?” They both leaned against the bed, one of them stroking DJ’s arm, the other shaking his head, his round blue eyes bright with tears as he looked at her hands and her fuzzy head. “I’m sorry, DJ.”

  “Hey, guys, you didn’t do anything. Here, one at a time, stand still and let me hug you. But you have to stand still.” They both nodded, eyes rounder as they watched DJ scoot closer to them. Holding her hands up, she hugged each one with her elbows and upper arms.

  “You boys can be a big help to DJ,” Lindy said. “I’ll teach you how to hold her glass to give her a drink of water, and you can even turn the pages of her school books so she can read her homework.”

  DJ groaned and the boys giggled.

  “Okay, guys, let’s go help Gran and Maria bring the food over.” Robert winked at DJ and herded the boys out the door. “See you in a bit. We’ll set up the picnic in here unless you’d rather come down to the deck.”

  DJ thought of the stairs and shook her head. No way could she make it down and then up again, no matter how much she’d rather eat out on the deck under the oak tree.

  “Good. You take a quick nap and we’ll see you in a bit.”

  “You need anything else?” Lindy moved the TV table closer to the bed. “You know, I think we should rent one of those tables that fit across the bed like they have at the hospital. Might make it easier for you.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’m so glad to be home.” DJ closed her eyes. She could hear the boys and their father downstairs. They must have let Queenie out of the garage, because she was no longer barking. All the sounds of home. Thank you, God, I’m home.

  DJ felt her mother kiss her cheek, but she couldn’t even open her eyes, they were so heavy.

  When the screams woke DJ up, a night-light glowed from her bathroom.

  Chapter • 7

  “DJ, what is it?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her mother and father burst into her room in the same heartbeat.

  “H-how’d you know?” DJ sucked in a deep breath, which brought on only a minor coughing spasm. She sat up straighter to ease the congestion.

  “The baby monitor, remember?” Lindy glanced up at Robert, who stood beside her. “Why don’t you get a warm washcloth?” She sat down on the bed and stroked DJ’s leg through the cover. “What happened?”

  “A nightmare, that’s all.” DJ could feel sweat trickle down her back and sides. Her insides were still shaking and her heart was thumping like it might jump out of her chest. “I get them a lot.”

  “Do you remember them when you wake up?” Lindy took the cloth Robert offered and wiped DJ’s face and neck.

  “Thanks, that feels good.”

  Robert sat beside her and began kneading her neck and shoulders.

  “It’s always horses, people screaming. And li
ke I’m stuck in mud and can’t get there to help them. I try and then I’m screaming, and then I wake up.”

  “Is there fire?”

  “Uh-huh. But not always. It’s just that I can’t get there.”

  “What would you do if you could get there?”

  “Beats me. I’m just stuck. Sometimes something is coming after me, and while I can’t see it, I know it’s there.” She rotated her head from side to side and forward. “That feels so good.”

  “I’m sure the stuck feeling comes from where you are right now— stuck in bed, in therapy. Dreams are often reflections of where we are or something that is happening.” Lindy wiped DJ’s face and neck, then dried them with the towel Robert had brought with the washcloth. “How about a drink, too? The doctor said we have to push fluids since you aren’t on the IV any longer.”

  DJ leaned into Robert’s ministering fingers as she sucked on the straw. She glanced over at her lighted radio clock. “What happened to the picnic?”

  “Sorry, but you were sleeping so soundly I couldn’t bear to wake you up, so we ate outside. Think you can go back to sleep now?”

  “Yes, thanks.” DJ flopped back on her pillows and scooted down some in the bed. “Sorry I woke you.”

  “We’re here for you, DJ. Just call and we’ll come runnin’—waddling, in your mother’s case.”

  “All right, Robert dear, you get to have the next one and see how well you do.” Lindy took his hand to pull her to her feet. “Sometimes I think I must be carrying triplets.”

  “Really?” DJ could feel her mouth drop open.

  “No. As far as we can tell, there is just one. He or she just plans on being toddler-size and ready to join a soccer team the minute it’s born.” Lindy held out the glass again. “You want another night-light in here or the hall light left on?”

  “No, thanks. The dark feels good after all the lights and noise at the hospital.”

  “Amy called,” Lindy said when DJ wandered slowly into the kitchen for breakfast. “She’s coming over after school on her way to Briones.”

  “Here, you sit.” Maria set a tall glass of fresh-from-the-squeezer orange juice with a straw in it on the table. “Got to get some meat on your bones again.” With her dark hair, dark eyes, and flashing smile, Maria patted DJ’s shoulder as she went by. “So good to have you home. Get good care, now.”

  DJ sat and inhaled the orange juice. At least she could drink without help if a straw was available. She leaned back in the chair and watched the hummingbirds at the feeders out on the deck while Maria cut up sausages and buttered toast. “Will we be home by the time Amy comes by?”

  “Should be.” Lindy fed DJ and ate her own breakfast at the same time. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Good.” DJ tried to stop a yawn, but it got by her. “Sorry.”

  Lindy caught it and almost missed DJ’s mouth with the fork, her own yawn so wide it shut her eyes. “Stop that.”

  Oh man, I’m so glad to be home. Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  After breakfast, DJ went back upstairs and, with Lindy’s help, struggled into real clothes for her trip to the new doctor.

  At the John Muir Medical Center, they met Dr. Armistadt, DJ’s new therapists, both physical and occupational, the scrub team—or as DJ called them to her mother, the “killer team”—and several others whose names DJ forgot as soon as they said them. But the routine remained the same, and DJ still hadn’t gotten used to the pain—never did, never would, and couldn’t wait until it wouldn’t happen anymore. Dr. Armistadt said the scrub treatments would taper off now.

  She knew she’d like the man.

  DJ was sound asleep when Amy arrived that afternoon, but she had made her mother promise to wake her up.

  “Hey, sleepyhead, you want to go riding?”

  “Hi, Amy.” DJ blinked several times, as usual wishing she could rub her eyes.

  “Kids are asking about you at school.” Amy sat cross-legged on the end of DJ’s bed.

  DJ sat up and copied the action. “I’ll be getting a tutor soon.” She made a face. “Did you get into that photography class?”

  “Did I ever. But I already know most of the camera stuff. We start in the darkroom next week. That’ll be way cool.” Amy cocked her head. Her dark hair had been brushed to the side and tied into a low ponytail that fell over her right shoulder. “Your hair is getting longer. Looks cute.”

  “Thanks. Short like this is easy to wash, that’s for sure.”

  “When are you coming over to the barns?”

  DJ shrugged. “Soon, I guess.” She propped her elbows on her knees. “So tell me what’s going on over there.”

  “Western show on Saturday, so we’re getting ready for that. Joe says he’s not taking Ranger until the trainer works more with them together.” Ranger was Joe’s young cutting horse. “The last show, Joe almost went one way and Ranger the other.”

  “So?”

  The two girls giggled at that one.

  “I better head over there. I need to work on Josh’s tail, and the farrier is supposed to be there at 4:30. See ya.”

  When Amy left, DJ settled back against her pillows. Did she really want to go to the barns? Ignoring the answer, she fell back asleep.

  The next few days slipped into a rhythm. DJ was feeling better in the mornings, even up to doing homework. They’d drive to Walnut Creek for treatments at the John Muir Medical Center in the afternoon. She was doped up pretty well for the treatments and, once home, slept on into the evening.

  On Friday they showed DJ how well the skin grafts were growing. She nearly gagged, but pure fascination made her study what her therapist, Jody, was telling her.

  “See, here we have your own skin from between your fingers where the damage wasn’t as great. Here are the grafts, and this part over here is where we used the artificial skin grown in a lab. It works like a net for your own skin cells to grow over more quickly. Since we were able to keep infection from setting in, the tissue is responding more quickly. But we have to keep the tendons from tightening your fingers into claws, and keep the skin from growing into a web between your fingers. All that means working the hands, no matter how much it hurts.”

  DJ shuddered. “Nothing can be worse than the scrubbing.”

  “So they say. I know this doesn’t look real good to you right now, but trust me, you’re coming along famously.”

  DJ could feel her face grow hot.

  “Are you eating all right?”

  “When I’m awake. After the treatments I sleep right through dinner, but Mom brings me a tray.”

  “Get lots of fruit and vegetables. They’ll help you feel better all around. And get up and walk.” Jody checked her chart. “You still get dizzy?”

  “Some.”

  “Okay, then have someone walk with you. The more you can get out in the sunshine, the better. Just keep the hands clean. That’s one reason we still bandage them. Keeping them clean and dry is imperative.”

  “Am I ever going to be able to take a shower again?”

  “Sure. Just bag your hands in plastic, tape them shut, and hold them up out of the water. One good thing is you don’t have to wash your hair every day.” Jody stepped back. “Not many people can go with their hair so short, but on you it looks good. Would you rather use a wig?”

  “No, hats are fine. My grandma found me a couple that work okay. Maybe when it’s a bit longer I won’t feel like I need a bag for my head.”

  “Trust me, kid. If I looked as good as you, I’d wear my hair that short all the time. So easy to care for.”

  As they always did after the treatments, DJ and her mom stopped by the ice-cream parlor to get her a jamoca almond malt—large size to go.

  “Mmm. This is so good. What if I become a malt addict?” DJ opened her eyes again after closing them in delight.

  “Beats drugs, that’s for sure.” Lindy watched the light, waiting for the green.

  “Mom?”

  “What
, dear?”

  “I won’t be a drug addict when this is over, will I?”

  “The doctors don’t think so. Dr. Niguri said that they’ll wean you off the morphine now as this other pain-killer takes effect. It’s one of those that takes time to build up to an effective level in the bloodstream. He said you will feel more alert, but that rest is still really important.”

  “I can’t keep it all straight.”

  “That’s okay. It gives the rest of us something to do.”

  “Jody said I can take a shower if we bag my hands.”

  “Good. That alone should make you feel better.”

  DJ watched the scenery go by, but before they reached Pleasant Hill, her eyes had drifted closed. She had a hard time waking up enough to get out of the car and up the stairs to her room, where she sat down on the bed and fell over asleep. She vaguely heard Maria tsk-ing as she lifted DJ’s legs and swung them up on the bed. Thank you. But the words never made it to audible level.

  “Hey, darlin’, how you doin’?” Gran breezed into DJ’s room Monday morning with her normal collection of baggage.

  DJ shrugged and tried to blink to clear her eyes, which had been closed instead of focused on her schoolwork. “Just can’t keep awake.”

  “This, too, shall pass. The Bible promises.” While Gran spoke, she pulled two garments from her bag and held them up. “What do you think?”

  DJ shrugged again.

  “I designed them myself. See … wide, loose sleeves to go over your bandages, elastic around the neck, so no buttons. We can just pull them over your head and voila, you are dressed. Pure comfort. No shorts to pull up and down, and no more living in nightgowns or those ugly hospital gowns.” Gran leaned over and whispered, “And you don’t even have to wear a bra.”

  Like I really need one. “Thanks.” How do I tell her these are like old lady dresses?

  “Now, I know these aren’t the fashion statement of the day, but jeans are hard to get on and off, and those tiny T-shirts won’t go over—”

  “My boxing gloves, I know.”

  “Well, you give them a try, and we’ll modify the pattern if we think of something else that will work. Here, I’ll help you put one on now.”