High Hurdles Collection Two (27 page)

Bridget had read her mind. The sound of her trainer's voice had sent instant panic surging through DJ, snapping her entirely awake like a bucket of cold water in the face.

“Okay.”

“I was wondering if you could be here at nine. Mrs. Johnson will be here, and we could talk with her about selling Patches. I looked at a horse yesterday over in Marin County that might be perfect for her.”

DJ glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty “Sure I'll be there, but …” She paused a moment to collect her thoughts. “But why me?”

Bridget chuckled, a warm sound that made DJ smile inside. “You, ma petite, are the trainer, no?”

“Yes, but …” She wanted to say “I'm just a kid” but refrained.

“No buts. This way she can ask you questions about Patches. No one knows that horse like you do.”

“I'm going to miss him.” DJ realized how true that was as she said the words. Patches was a challenge every day, and she'd learned a lot training him. And his owner.

“See you at nine.” Bridget hung up before DJ could respond.

“DJ, where's Daddy?” a sleepy voice from the doorway asked.

“And Mommy?”

“Your dad's at the grocery store, and Mom's not back yet. You guys better get your slippers on. It's cold in here.”

“You don't have slippers on.”

DJ groaned. “Yeah, and my feet are freezing.” She clapped her hands and grabbed at them. “I'm gonna get you if you don't watch out.”

They ran shrieking down the hall, giving her time to slip into the bathroom and slam the door shut.

“And so it is my opinion that you should sell Patches and purchase a horse you could enjoy more.”

And be safer with
. But DJ only nodded when Mrs. Johnson looked at her.

“Surely this isn't necessary.” Mrs. Johnson shook her head, looking from Bridget to DJ and back again. “You don't just sell a horse because he's spirited, do you? Why, Patches is my friend. He nickers when he sees me coming and …” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, then shifted again when the cast on her arm caused her discomfort.

Bridget looked from the casted arm up to Mrs. Johnson's eyes without saying a word.

“But I'm becoming a better rider, and DJ …” She sent DJ a pleading look.

“I … I wish we could say something different, but Patches always gives me a hard time, too. When you count them, he's dumped me more times than you.”

“And that is only because you have ridden him so little, Mrs. Johnson. Think how much more pleasure you had when you rode the schooling horses.” Bridget leaned forward, elbows on her desk, hands folded.

“But Patches is mine, the first horse I've ever owned.”

DJ could hear the sorrow in the woman's voice. And the stubbornness. “What about Andrew?” she asked.

“Andrew isn't riding Patches.”

“No. But he is so frightened for you that he's back to being afraid of Bandit again, too. He's worked hard to get over that fear just because he knows how happy it will make you. He was even beginning to look forward to riding up in Briones with all the family.”

Mrs. Johnson groaned and looked at the floor. The silence in the office made the normal noises of whinnying horses and riders calling to each other seem loud. When she looked up again, sadness dimmed her eyes. “Let me talk to my husband first, okay?”

Bridget nodded. “Of course. But I want you to know that I have found a horse I think would suit you well. You would be wise to go with me to at least look at it.”

“Thank you, I guess.” The woman tried to put a smile on her face. “Guess I'll go give Patches a treat and be on my way, then.” She got to her feet, not standing nearly as erect as when she came in. “See you later.”

DJ watched her walk out of the room, wishing she could run over and say, “Hey, forget it. We'll make Patches behave so you can keep him.”

“This is the best thing to do.” Bridget's voice carried all the assurance of her years of working with both horses and humans.

“I guess.” DJ sighed and heaved herself to her feet. “I better go finish up and get home.”

“Any idea when you will be riding again?”

“Soon, I hope. This is driving me crazy, and if Mrs. Johnson decides to sell Patches, I won't have anything to ride.”

“You want Omega back?”

DJ thought a moment. Without Patches to train, she would have more time for Major and more time for her homework, too. They had said they'd take care of the rest of her expenses. “I'll talk with Mom and Robert, but I bet they'll say no.”

“That is good.” Bridget pulled out the pencil she always kept tucked in the side of her hair. “It takes a great deal of support, both personal and financial, for a rider to make it into the big time. I am glad to see you are getting that.”

“Thanks. See ya.” DJ left the office. She could always go back to mucking stalls if she needed to. But teaching and training were much more fun. Maybe once in a while she could take that extra hour and go ride up in Briones. She glanced up at the hills to see fog blanketing the top halves and wisping around the lower trees. Riding into fog like that would be spooky— and fun. She sighed. Two stalls to clean and she was outta there.

The others weren't home yet when she got there, so she made her bed and picked up her room before settling down to the stack of homework. She needed to decide on a topic for her history term paper, and another book report was due in English, besides her journal. She hadn't written in that for three days again. Plus she had two short essays to write. What a fun Saturday this would be.

She put the algebra book at the bottom of the stack. Robert
had
agreed to help her with that. And he wasn't here now.

So get it done and show him you can do it yourself
. There was that bossy little voice again. She tried to ignore it, then slammed her English book closed and jerked out the math. If that little voice was indeed the Holy Spirit prompting her like Gran said, maybe she'd better learn to listen.

“Heavenly Father, you know how much I ha—ah, dislike algebra. Please help me get this stuff into my head and then keep it there. My verse says ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,' and I am trying to believe that. Even algebra, huh?” She waited. How come that little voice came at other times but not when she wanted an answer?

“Thanks, I guess.” She scrunched her mouth back and forth. “Amen.”

She could hear Robert's voice in her ear.
“Now, read very carefully right from the beginning and then read it again. You can understand this. I know you can.”

By the time she heard the twins come yelling “DJ!” through the front door, she'd finished her algebra—with questions for Robert on two of the problems and one principle—caught up on her journal, and roughed out one essay.

She rose and stretched, locking her hands high above her head and twisting so she could pull all the kinks out. “I'm up here.”

The two rocketed through the door. “Come on, we get to dye Easter eggs.”

“Mommy said you make bee-ew-tiful eggs. Come on.”

They grabbed her hands and pulled her out the door.

DJ pretended to dig in her heels. “Help, I'm being kidnapped by munchkins!”

The rainbow-hued eggs filled two large baskets by the time they quit. The plastic-covered table looked like they'd had a dye fight. Stickers lay in puddles of dye, and wax crayons were worn to the nub. Robert held a blue egg up to the light.

“You think it could use a sticker or two?”

“Good luck.” Lindy brought a sponge from the kitchen.

Billy or Bobby peeled a basket sticker off his sweat shirt. “Here's one.”

DJ pointed to the cups of dye. “You guys dump those in the sink and I'll—”

“No. I think they've dumped enough.” Robert looked over the tops of his glasses to the twins. They giggled.

“Only tipped one cup over.”

“And that was an accident.”

“Oh sure. I think you did it on purpose.”

“Daddy.” Hands on hips.

“Okay, I'll dump the dye and you guys pick up the stuff.” DJ swept the littered table with an open hand.

“Save the stickers,” said Bobby—at least, DJ thought it must be Bobby since he usually spoke first and liked to save things.

Lindy groaned. “I don't think so. I'll bring the trash bag and you can dump things right in it.”

When the dining room looked normal again, even with the silk tulips in a vase in the center of the table, they all gathered in the family room, the adults with coffee and the kids with sodas.

“I have news for all of you,” Lindy said, leaning back against the sofa and smiling at Robert.

“What?” He smiled back.

They're going to get mushy again
. DJ rolled her eyes so far up that she caught a glimpse of her eyebrows.

“I announced last night at the meeting that I am taking a leave of absence, so I'll be home to take care of the boys.” She smiled at the twins. “Starting Monday.”

“You can
do
that?” DJ blurted out.

“I did.” Lindy reached for the boys and pulled them onto her lap. “And it feels wonderful.” She hugged the boys and kissed their cheeks.

DJ couldn't believe her ears.
Her
mother taking time off. She
never
missed work—even when she'd had pneumonia one time.

She never took time off work for me. DJ
could feel her smile wobble. If this was what jealousy felt like, no wonder God said it wasn't a good idea.

Chapter • 5

“DJ, darlin', You don't look very happy.”

“Oh.” DJ tried to paste a smile on her face, but the glue refused to stick.

“So what's wrong?” Gran and Joe looked at her, both of them waiting for an answer.

If only it were that easy to explain how she felt. She wished she could run and hide her face against Gran's painting smock like she used to. Being taller than her grandmother made that seem a bit foolish now.

Since the Easter sunrise service was one of DJ's favorites, she had gone with her grandparents, and they were now sitting in the kitchen at Gran's. Any minute Lindy would call and say to come for the Easter egg hunt. GJ had gone over and hid the eggs earlier while the boys were still asleep. After the hunt they'd all go back to church for the regular service.

DJ wanted nothing more than to head for the hills, on Major's back, of course.

She drew designs on the tablecloth with her fingernail.
How do you tell your grandmother that you're a spoiled brat who's jealous of two small boys? Now, if that doesnt sound great
.

“Mom's taking a leave of absence from work.”

“Wonderful. I didn't think that day would ever happen.” Gran leaned forward and reached across the table to still DJ's busy hand. “So why aren't you happy with that? Now you won't have to worry about taking care of the boys when Robert is too busy.” DJ had told them of the boys' time at the barns.