High Hurdles Collection Two Read online

  Gran gave them a look.

  When Shawna started to whisper something else, DJ shook her head.

  Was the sermon awfully long, or was she feeling as antsy as Shawna, who couldn’t sit still on the pew beside her? DJ refocused her attention on the pastor for the who-knew-how-manyeth time. But whatever he was preaching about didn’t make it past her rampaging thoughts. She took in a deep breath and let it all out, dropping her shoulders as she did.

  “God, the perfect Father, loves us, loves you, loves me, right now. No matter what we do, He loves us. Think of that. He loves you.” Each word the pastor said now rang and echoed in DJ’s head. “God loves you. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. God loves you. Jesus loves you.” In a voice rich with love, the pastor emphasized each word. They seemed to fill the sanctuary, bouncing off the beams overhead and dancing with the sun streaming in the window. The precious words circled DJ’s heart, invaded it, and took sanctuary there.

  “Amen.”

  DJ heard sniffs and throat clearings from those around her. She wiped away her own tear before it left the haven of her lashes. Gran took a tissue from her purse, and Joe blew into his white handkerchief.

  “Awesome,” Shawna whispered.

  DJ’s throat kept closing during the final hymn.

  There wasn’t a lot of talking as the congregation left the building. GJ wrapped an arm around Gran and the other around DJ as Gran snuggled Shawna close to her side. The four of them walked to the parking lot and the waiting car.

  “DJ, wait up!” Amy dashed across the parking lot. She greeted them all, then asked, “You going to the Academy this afternoon?” Her black hair gleamed in the sunlight.

  “We’re going to Briones,” Shawna announced.

  “You want to come?” DJ asked.

  “You bet I do!” Amy waved at her mother’s call. “Just don’t leave without me.” She darted back between the cars to the Yamamoto minivan.

  “You want to eat lunch now, pack a lunch, or ride first and eat later?” Gran asked when they got home.

  “Could we pack it?” Shawna asked as if she were being offered a trip to Disneyland.

  Gran hugged her on the way up the pansy-bordered walk. “In a heartbeat. I’ll do that while you change clothes. Don’t worry, DJ, I’ll pack for Amy, too.”

  “Melanie, my love, you are the best grandma ever,” DJ heard Joe say as she headed for her bedroom. DJ totally agreed.

  With their lunches in Joe’s saddlebags and the horses groomed in record time, the four closed the gates behind them and headed up the trail to Briones State Park. The trail curved around a rounded hill and below a grandfather oak tree raising dark arms against the sun. The hurt-your-eyes green of the grass said that while the calendar still proclaimed winter, the earth on these California hills was thinking spring. The breeze bending the grass held a nip to it when it kissed DJ’s cheeks.

  She raised her face to the sun and inhaled. “How come new grass smells almost as good as horse?”

  A red-tailed hawk, riding the thermals above them, screeched an answer. One of the horses snorted. The saddles creaked and bits jangled, adding a tune all their own.

  DJ knew there was no place in the entire world she’d rather be than right here, right now.

  They ate their lunch by the fenced-in pond in the upper meadow. Riders on cross-country bikes sped by on the fire road, and hikers whistled for their dogs to keep them from chasing the cows with their calves that grazed the hillsides.

  Shawna flung herself on her back, her arms outstretched. “This is a five-million-percent perfect day.”

  “You said it, kid.” Joe balled his sandwich bag and stuffed the trash in his saddlebag. The horses grazed beside them. While DJ told Amy about Julia’s offer to take their cards to a gift shop, maybe reproducing one of the filly pictures, too, Joe answered Shawna’s stream of questions. They mounted their horses again and rode farther up the hill, following the trails along the ridge until Joe finally said they should head back.

  When Shawna groaned, he laughed. “You’re going to feel all this tomorrow as it is, young lady. Besides, Gran needs our company.”

  “When are you going to get Gran a horse?” DJ asked.

  “Any time she wants one.”

  “Just get one, and once we drag her up here the first time, she’ll be hooked for sure.” DJ thought a moment. “If I can get Patches to behave on the trails, she can ride Major.” The tall, dark bay flicked his ears at the sound of his name. DJ patted his neck. Right now she felt like hugging him and the whole world.

  “You’d help me find her a horse?” Joe questioned.

  “Need you ask? So will Bridget.”

  “Don’t tell her.”

  “I won’t, but we’d better get to work. Mother’s Day will be here before you know it.”

  Joe nodded, a sneaky smile curving his lips. “Thanks, DJ. That’s the perfect idea.”

  When they got home, Andy sat in his car, waiting for his daughter.

  “Why didn’t you go in the house?” Joe asked.

  “It’s locked. Besides, I only just got here. Let’s get your stuff, Shawna. I need to get back.”

  When they entered the kitchen, a note on the table said Gran had gone into the city to pick up the twins. Maria had caught the bug, too, and was too ill herself to care for two sick boys.

  DJ and Joe waved good-bye to the others a few minutes later. What are we in for now? DJ wondered.

  Chapter • 3

  So much for my time alone with Joe and Gran. DJ buried the thought.

  Joe leaned down and opened the oven door. “Leave it to Mel, she has dinner in the oven.” The fragrance of roast beef flanked by onions and garlic floated past DJ’s nose.

  Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. Be happy they are coming, she told herself. After all, they’re your brothers now. A sneaky little voice chimed in, And now you’ll never be able to send them home. DJ rubbed a rough spot on her lower lip with her tongue. When she swallowed, she discovered another rough spot … on the back of her throat. Great! She swallowed again to test out her theory. The Bs probably gave their germs to me. That’s all I need.

  “You want something to drink?” Joe sounded muffled since he had his head in the refrigerator.

  “Sure. Anything.”

  A hand came from around the door and handed her a strawberry kiwi soda. “You hungry?” The rest of Joe appeared, cheese and celery in hand, and he headed for the sink. “I make great stuffed celery. You want pimento or olive?”

  “Both.”

  “Me too—why choose when they’re both so good.” He stripped a couple of celery stalks off the bunch and handed them to her to wash while he put the remainder of the celery away.

  “How come we’re having these instead of cookies?”

  “Mel’s got me on a no-sweets program.”

  “So she didn’t bake cookies?”

  He grinned at her while he opened the cheese jars. “Those are for the grandkids. I’m under strict orders.”

  “I’m a grandkid.” DJ dried the celery stalks with a paper towel.

  “I know that, but if I have to have celery, you wouldn’t be so cruel as to eat cookies in front of me.”

  “You could always turn your back.” She eyed the teddy bear cookie jar.

  “You’re heartless, you know that?” He plunked the lids back on the cheeses and handed them to her. “Put these away, p-u-lease.”

  DJ did as he asked. Standing at the refrigerator door, she read the note held there by the teddy bear magnet she had given Gran for Christmas one year. “You know you’re supposed to scrub the carrots and potatoes and put them in with the roast—an hour ago.”

  Joe flinched. “How’d I miss that?” He crunched into his stalk of celery and handed DJ half of each kind. “You gonna help me?”

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  Joe crinkled up his eyes like he was thinking hard. “It’s worth you not having to set the table and load the dishwasher by yourself.”


  “Gran would help me.”

  “I have a feeling Gran is going to be pretty busy with two sick little boys.”

  “Did you have to remind me?” DJ picked up the vegetable brush and attacked the red potatoes Joe poured into the sink.

  “You have a problem with that?” Joe brought out a bag of carrots and began peeling them.

  “No.”

  “Sounds like a yes to me.” He dumped a peeled carrot in with the scrubbed potatoes.

  DJ glared at the potato in her hand and scrubbed so hard the red came off.

  “So?”

  “I really like the boys.”

  “And?” When she didn’t answer, he added, “But?”

  “They take so much time and they are so … so hyper.”

  “Maybe it seems that way, but they’re really more busy and active than hyper. You just haven’t been around little kids much, and those two are a double handful.”

  “I guess.”

  “Now, what’s really bugging you?” Joe finished peeling the carrots and washed his hands. “Hand me the butcher knife, will you?” He quartered the carrots and potatoes, the knife blade slamming into the cutting board.

  “Nothing, forget it.”

  “Nope. Let’s get it out—now.”

  DJ chewed on her lip. “I … I feel like a creep.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” She pushed herself away from the counter.

  “Not so fast.” Joe snagged her arm with one wet hand, leaving a print on the arm of her gray sweat shirt. “Give, girl. This is GJ, remember? I’ve interrogated hardened criminals. One confused teenage girl, especially my granddaughter, is a piece of cake.”

  He handed her the bowl of veggies and, opening the oven door, pulled out the roaster. With the lid open and steam rising, he ordered, “Dump ’em in.”

  DJ did as asked. “I’m too old to be jealous of two little boys, sick ones at that.” The words gushed as if from a wide open faucet.

  “You’re a better man—excuse me, woman—than I am, then, because I feel jealous over the kids or even Mel’s painting at times.”

  “You do?” DJ’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Sure, we all do. Only some, like you, are honest about it bothering you. Most grown-ups have just learned to hide their jealousy and suffer in silence. Some even make the other person miserable by getting even or making smart, cutting comments.” He closed the oven door.

  “But I thought Christians weren’t supposed to feel jealous or mad or—”

  “Get even or say things to hurt another’s feelings or all kinds of things. Of course we’re not supposed to, but sometimes we do. We’re human, and we have feelings. But the sin is acting on those feelings. Feelings are neither good nor bad—they just are. It’s when you let them take root and begin to poison your mind and soul that you get into trouble.” Joe leaned against the counter, waving his celery stalk for emphasis. “There are times when you’ll have feelings or thoughts that aren’t the best, but let them go. Saying ‘I feel really angry’ is like popping the top on a can of soda. It lets the fizz out. When Robert was your age, I gave him a punching bag so he could beat his anger out on that rather than on his sister and brother. It helped—a lot.”

  “Robert got mad?”

  “He had a terrible temper.”

  “Are we talking about the same Robert—you know, the man who married my mother?”

  “We sure are. If he gets mad at you, he’ll tell you about it. But if he hadn’t learned to feel the feelings and then let them go, he wouldn’t be where he is today. He’s an effective leader and boss because he can control his temper. And let me tell you, there have been plenty of times in his life to test that out.” Joe crossed one leg over the other as he nibbled the last bite. He nodded. “I’m really proud of that man. And thank God He answered our prayers. His mother and I spent plenty of time praying for Robert and his temper.”

  DJ, in a matching pose, nodded beside him. “I was just looking forward to time alone with you and Gran.” She forced the words past the rough spot in her throat.

  “Thanks for telling me.” Joe uncrossed his arms and slid one around her shoulders, drawing her closer to his side. “Bet you miss Gran a lot at times.”

  DJ nodded. The words wouldn’t come this time, but the tears tried to.

  “Well, I’ll tell you something. I am so grateful she married me, and I couldn’t love you more if I’d met you the day you were born.” He paused and cleared his throat. “So I’ll try to be sensitive to when you two need each other all to yourselves and make sure you get that time. And I’ll try hard not to be jealous, but it won’t be easy.”

  DJ leaned her head against his shoulder. “Th-thank you.” She sniffed. “You got a tissue anywhere nearby?”

  He snagged two from the box on the windowsill. “Here.” Giving her one, he used the other. When they’d both blown their noses and wiped their eyes, they paused. Sure enough, a car door slammed.

  “I better go help her.”

  “Me too.” DJ followed him out the door.

  Bobby and Billy were scrubbing their eyes awake when they opened the back doors to the minivan. Joe picked up one pajama-clad boy and DJ the other so Gran could bring in the suitcase.

  “Bobby or Billy?” DJ whispered to the boy with his head on her shoulder.

  “Bobby,” he croaked back.

  Inside, when she tried to set him down, he clung to her with both arms and legs.

  “You want to go to bed?”

  He shook his head once and hung on.

  DJ followed Gran and Joe down the hall and into the guest room with twin beds that the boys called their room. With cowboy bedspreads, minibikes, and a basket of balls, bats, baseball gloves, and dump trucks in the corner, the room certainly looked like a boys’ lair. Gran had already taken the twins’ matching monkeys out of the suitcase and laid them on the pillows of the turned-back beds. Joe and DJ set their burdens down and tucked the blankets around the sleepy boys. Each with an arm over a monkey, the two turned on their sides and instantly fell back to sleep.

  Once in the kitchen, Gran shook her head. “At least Maria got them to the emergency clinic early this morning. The doctor said it looks like strep throat, and they both have congestion in their chests, too. She got them on antibiotics and had the doctor take a look at her, too, since she already felt terrible. By the time I arrived, she was coughing her head off and running a temp. Good thing she called me when she did.”

  “So who’s taking care of Maria?” Joe asked.

  “Her sister is going to check on her. I’ll call her again first thing in the morning. We could always make up a bed for her here if we need to.” Gran rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers.

  “You okay?” DJ asked.

  “Just a headache.” Gran blew out a breath. “Are the potatoes and carrots done, do you think?”

  “Ahh, probably not quite yet.” Joe made a face. “How about I make you and DJ a cup of tea and you go put your feet up on the hassock.” He turned to the cupboard. “What kind do you want?”

  “Orange spice.” Gran glanced DJ a question.

  “Fine.”

  As soon as Gran sat in her new wing chair—she now had one at each house—DJ pulled the matching hassock over, let Gran get comfortable, then took her place on the floor beside her grandmother.

  “How was the ride?”

  “Heavenly.” DJ leaned her cheek on her grandmother’s thigh.

  Gran stroked DJ’s hair. “I’m glad you had fun.”

  DJ told her about everything they’d seen and done, with Joe adding bits and pieces when he set their full teacups on the end table and relaxed in his recliner. One of the boys coughed, catching their attention.

  “Poor little tykes,” Gran said. “When they are sick enough to sleep like this, they must be really sick.” She checked her watch. “They need their antibiotics pretty soon and more to drink. I should have gotten fruit juice bars on the way hom
e, but I couldn’t take them out of the car. Maria said that’s all they’ve wanted since last night. Good thing Robert didn’t realize how sick they were, or he would have postponed the honeymoon.”

  “He knew you and Joe were near.”

  “And who knew Maria would catch it, too?”

  “Must be pretty contagious stuff.” Joe sipped his coffee. “We all better take our vitamin C and some of those herbs you found, Mel.”

  “I already did.” Gran sighed after a sip of tea. “This tastes so good. And the dinner smells wonderful. You want to stab the potatoes, darlin’? See if they’re done?”

  No one moved. Finally DJ asked, “Who are you talking to?”

  “Well, I meant Joe, but if you want to go, feel free. If they’re done, I’ll come make the gravy.”

  DJ rose from the floor. “No, no, GJ, don’t get up. I’ll do it.”

  He opened one eye. “You talking to me?”

  DJ pinched his stocking-clad big toe and ambled into the kitchen. She could hear Joe and Gran talking in the living room, a comforting sound, like a creek murmuring over pebbles and sand. Feeling like she could give them something back, DJ went ahead and made the gravy. While it simmered, she set the table, including the salad Gran had ready in the refrigerator. She sliced the pot roast and laid the carrots and potatoes on the platter surrounding the meat.

  “Come and eat,” she said from the doorway.

  Both Gran and Joe roused from a doze, blinking themselves awake.

  “Ready for the gravy maker?” Gran asked, pushing herself up from the softness of her chair.

  “It’s all done. If you don’t get a move on, it will be cold.” DJ cleared her throat.

  “You sound like me.” Gran patted her granddaughter’s cheek as she entered the kitchen. “Oh, how lovely that looks. DJ, what a nice thing to do.”

  “Thanks, kiddo,” Joe said, gripping DJ’s shoulder. “You know, Mel,” he said as he pulled her chair out for her, “this kid is definitely a keeper.”

  “Oh, I’ve known that for fourteen-plus years.” Gran winked at DJ, but her brow wrinkled when DJ cleared her throat again. “You have a frog in your throat?”