High Hurdles (54 page)

Bobby and Billy jumped on the tailgate and chased each other around the rig.

DJ looked at her mother. She could tell something was bothering her, even though she was laughing at something Robert had said. The tiny furrows between Lindy’s eyebrows were a dead giveaway. Was it the saddle?

DJ chewed her lip.
I bet it is,
she thought,
I just bet it is. Now what’s going to happen? She won’t make me give it back, will she?

Chapter
•
17

DJ lost every video game.

“Don’t feel bad, darlin’, they beat me every time, too.” Joe patted her on the head as he walked by.

When the twins asked her to play the game again, she shook her head. “Not with you two sharks. Get your uncle to play.” She heaved herself to her feet. It had been at least an hour since brunch—surely there was something out there to eat. She snagged a candy-cane cookie off the silver three-tiered platter on the dining room table and meandered into the kitchen. Lindy, Gran, and Sonya sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

“Where’s everyone else?” DJ dunked her cookie in Gran’s coffee cup.

“If you mean the big, strong men, they crashed.” Sonya lifted her cup in salute. “I hear the monsters mangled you out there. Don’t feel bad—Shawna’s the only one who can hold a candle to them. They’re better with that joy stick than I’ll ever be.”

“But they’re not even six years old yet. Scary.” DJ leaned against Gran’s shoulder. “Sure smells good in here.”

“Is that a hint?” Gran wrapped her arm around DJ’s waist.

“Could be called that. I mean, if you had something to offer a starving child, she wouldn’t turn it down.” DJ tried to make her voice and face pitiful.

“Cinnamon roll?”

“Are there any left?” DJ’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Enough to last until dinner. Check the bread box.”

“You make the best cinnamon rolls in the whole world.” DJ set the gooey roll on a paper plate and put it in the microwave.

“You know, it’s not fair—if I ate like my kid does, I’d weigh three hundred pounds,” Lindy observed.

“I know how you feel.” Sonya reached over and snagged a bite off the roll when DJ set her plate on the table.

“You want one? I’ll fix it.” DJ looked from one to the other. Sonya nodded and Lindy shook her head. “Take that one, and I’ll make me another.”

“You mean just because I peeled off the best part, it’s mine?”

“Something like that.” DJ grinned at the teasing and flinched when she heard the thunder of the twins’ feet. “Quick, bar the door!”

“DJ, can we go riding now?” The twins glanced at the food set out and flung themselves at DJ’s legs. “We was good forever. We beat Shawna, too.”

“That makes you the champs. Go ask your grandpa. If he says yes, it’s okay with me.”

“Me too?” Shawna leaned against her mother. “They beat me.”

The boys charged out at top speed. These days, that seemed to be their only speed.

“Walk, please. No running in the house,” Gran called.

The thunder turned to soft patters, but giggles floated back.

“Just think, Lindy,” Sonya said after licking the caramel goo from her fingertips, “in a couple of months, you’ll hear that all the time.”

“I know, and it sometimes scares me to bits.”

DJ looked up and watched her mother’s face.

“How do you direct all that energy? I’ve never been around little boys—in fact, I’ve hardly been around small children at all. The times they’ve been at our house, no matter how good they’ve been, they’re just always so busy.” Lindy sneaked a bite of cinnamon roll. “Wears me out.”

“You’ll get used to it. It’s good that Robert plans on keeping the nanny.”

“Yeah, at least for a while, until I decide if I’ll quit my job or not.”

DJ nearly choked on the last bite.

Lindy looked over at her and smiled. “Shocker, huh?”

“Really?”

“We’ve been talking about it. My professor is so interested in my thesis on entrepreneurial kids that he keeps encouraging me to turn it into a book. He says I write well enough. Maybe my mother and my daughter aren’t the only ones with all the talent.” She looked over at Sonya. “Actually, DJ and Amy gave me the idea.”

DJ rolled her eyes. “Yeah, as if all our tries to earn money worked.”
What would it be like to have her mother home all the time?

“Well, some better than others. Look at your note card sales. You cleaned out your inventory before Christmas.”

“I think they’re wonderful. If I’d have known you were selling them, I’d have bought enough to give to the people in my office for gifts,” Sonya said.

“I’ll always have more.” DJ winked at her. She could feel her insides go all warm and fuzzy at the compliment. All those she’d left at the Academy sold, too. And she now had three commissions to draw member horses. Crazy, here when she finally had an actual way to make money, she already had a saddle. Now maybe her saddle fund could go for clinics and stuff. Of course, Major needed new shoes. . . .

Giving the kids rides at the Academy an hour later reminded her of the pony parties. But with Joe taking the twin who wasn’t riding Bandit with him on Ranger, and Shawna on Major, DJ had much more fun. She caught the twins’ giggles and passed them back.

Shawna had stars in her eyes for the rest of the day after riding Major all by herself.

The next two days flew by like the seconds in a jumping ring. Shawna would have ridden all day and night if allowed. She helped DJ saddle soap her new saddle and chattered nonstop about her dream horse.

Since it was a weekend, Robert and the boys were about. One day they all headed for Marine World Africa USA in Vallejo less than an hour away. By the time they’d seen all the shows, including two visits to the killer whale show, had a butterfly sit on Shawna’s shoulder in the butterfly house, and sampled all the food items, they could barely make it back to the car. Only once did DJ wish she could have spent the sunny day riding.

“He’s here,” Lindy called up the stairs late Monday morning.

“I know, I’m zipping my bag.” DJ took one last look around the room and slung the canvas tote over her shoulder. She had packed her boots, rain gear, everyday clothes, and, at her mother’s insistence, an outfit dressier than jeans and a sweat shirt. She’d had a hard time closing the zipper. With her other hand she picked up the package wrapped in Christmas tree paper and headed down the stairs. Joe had helped her frame another of her drawings as a gift for Brad and Jackie. As Joe had said when she’d worried over whether they’d like it: if they didn’t, that was their problem, not hers. Easy to say, harder to live with.

“Now, remember, if you want to come home early, all you have to do is call,” Lindy whispered in DJ’s ear as she gave her a good-bye hug.

“I know.”
She must think I’m a baby or something
. DJ hugged her mother back. “See ya.”

“I promise to return her safely,” Brad said with a smile.

“I know. And thank you for the lovely basket of goodies.” Lindy crossed her arms over her chest. “You have fun now. And behave yourself.”

DJ rolled her eyes. “M-o-t-h-e-r.”

“That’s okay, I’m paid to say that.” Lindy tried to smile. “Comes with being a mother.”

“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.