High Hurdles (66 page)

The house felt damp and empty, as if lonely huddling against the storm. DJ picked up the phone to call Gran, realizing that the power was off since the light on the answering machine glowed neither green nor red. At least the kitchen phone still worked.

“Hi. Mrs. Yamamoto is taking me to the Academy, but Amy is sick. Could you please pick me up afterward?”

“Sure will. You have power over there?”

“Nope.”

“I’m afraid we’re in the same boat, but I have the fireplace going so we can roast hot dogs for dinner. Leave a note for your mother. On second thought, you get ready, and I’ll call. Bring your stuff to spend the night if the power doesn’t come back on.”

DJ did her chores and Amy’s, too. Because of the rain driving in from the west, the horses stabled in the open stalls were drenched in spite of the roof. Water ran down the aisle to where one of the men had trenched it off to the sides before it could run into the barn. Since so many people couldn’t make it to the Academy, it was already growing dark outside by the time the stalls were cleaned and the horses fed and groomed. Due to the power outage, Bridget had closed the ring, so no one was riding.

DJ and Tony Andrada stood back from the door, watching the rain sheet across the parking area.

“This is about as bad as the hurricanes where I came from.” Tony shook his head. “If I never see one of those suckers again, it’ll be too soon. And here I thought California had good weather.”

DJ rubbed her cold hands together. She should have brought gloves, but whoever heard of wearing gloves because of cold California weather? She did have riding gloves, but she only wore them when she had to.

“You had a chance to help the Queen yet?” DJ asked Tony. Mrs. Ellsindorf had earned her nickname.

“I stay out of her way. Seems to work.”

“Lucky you!” Just then Gran drove in and parked right in front of the door. “See ya.” DJ dashed outside again, duffel and backpack in hand. The wind slammed the car door shut for her, barely missing her leg.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like for those people helping sandbag.” Gran peered through the brief clearing made by the wipers. “You better be praying for your grandfather and his crew up there while I drive us home.”

“You heard from him?”

“Nope.” They nearly had to shout to be heard above the rain, the heater, and the wipers.

DJ sent her prayers heavenward, including one for her mother and every other unlucky person on the roads.

As they drove past Robert’s new house, DJ glanced over—just in time to see a chunk of the roof lift off and roll across the yard.

Chapter
•
9

“Gran, stop! The roof!”

“I’m not stopping here. I’m getting us home and in the house as fast as I can. We’ll call Robert when we get there.” They both ducked instinctively as a branch, broken off a tree just ahead, sailed straight at them, then slid across the roof.

DJ gripped the door handle.
What is happening at the barns? I know Gran won’t go back tonight. God, please, keep Major safe. And help us to get home safely, too. We have only a little way to go now.

As Gran turned the station wagon into her driveway, they heard a loud crack. Straight ahead, the pine tree behind the garage crashed forward, splintering one side of the garage as it fell. Electric wires leaped and fluttered, coming to rest across the driveway.

“Two more seconds, and we’d have been right there.” Gran pointed to where the lines lay. The garage settled into a tilt that made it look like a toy a child had bashed. “Thank you, heavenly Father, for keeping us safe. And for taking our power away earlier.”

“Amen.” DJ breathed the word. Her heart still felt as if it would leap right out of her chest and flutter to the ground like the wires had. She peered out, the falling darkness more pronounced without streetlights. “You think you still have a phone?”

Gran turned off the ignition. “Possibly. Those lines are buried underground. Joe kept saying he wanted to trench and bury our electric lines, too, but somehow we didn’t get to it.”

“Not like you guys haven’t been busy or anything.” DJ shot her grandmother a look of love. Gran’s face gleamed stark white in the reflection from the headlights, and her normally strong hands shook as she flicked off the interior light.

“The car could have been in the garage.
We
could have been in the garage, just getting out. Oh, DJ, I am so grateful.” Tears formed at the edges of her eyes. “God is so good to us.” Gran brushed the drops away. “Let’s head for the house. You wait a minute until I get the door unlocked.”

“How about if I unlock the door and you wait?”

Gran snorted. “I don’t think so. My hand will quit shaking enough to insert the key.”

DJ held hers up. “Then you’re in better shape than me.” They held up matching hands, hands that trembled in spite of their best efforts to keep them still.

“The rest of me feels just the same.” Gran tucked her purse under her arm. “Time to get our evening shower.” She shoved open the car door, fighting the wind that howled against it. When she stepped free, the door slammed on its own.

DJ waited until Gran got to the door, then bolted from the car. Running to the house was like leaning into a solid wall—an invisible wall that nearly dropped her on her face when it huffed, then blew her backward. If, as Tony had said, this storm felt almost like a hurricane, DJ had no desire to research the difference.

Once inside, the howling wind was muted enough by the snug house that DJ and Gran could at least talk in normal voices.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Gran called. The flare of a just-lit kerosene lamp warmed the way for DJ. “Looks like we’re going to have to play pioneers,” Gran said as she lit another. “I can remember my mother talking about lamplight when she was a girl and how it was more flattering.”

DJ knew Gran had grown up in the South on a farm. She and Gramps had moved to California after he had been stationed there during his term in the navy. One of Gran’s sisters still lived on the home place, as they called it, but she refused to visit California. Scared to death of earthquakes, Gran always said with a laugh. At one time, the barn on the home place had been destroyed by a tornado, but only Gran saw the humor in that. As for DJ, she didn’t have a whole lot of patience for or interest in her Southern relatives. It was hard to care about people you’d never met.

She shucked off her slicker and shook her head, wet hair whipping her stinging cheeks.

“Land, child, get in the shower while we still have hot water. You take one bathroom, and I’ll take the other.”

“The fire needs more wood first,” DJ said. “Maybe I better bring in a stack before I dry off.”

“Good idea. We can set it by the back door to dry. If you dig down a layer or two, it shouldn’t be so wet. Joe has it covered, but nothing will stay dry in driving rain like this.” Gran glanced at the clock, grimaced, and checked her watch. “I sure wish he were home. What must it be like up on the river?”

DJ shuddered. Surely they had ordered the workers into buildings to protect them. She pulled her wet slicker back on and headed for the back door. The wind tore at the door, but DJ managed to get it open. The storm door was another matter. The wind grabbed it and slammed it against the wall so hard, the glass shattered and the aluminum frame bent.

“Don’t worry about that!” Gran hollered over the wind. “Hand the wood to me and I’ll stack it. Careful!”

Within a few minutes, the laundry room took on a new purpose. Instead of being used to wash and dry clothes, wood was stacked everywhere—on the floor, the dryer, the washer, and in the deep double sink. They moved the last loads right into the family room and stacked them on papers out of the way along one wall.

Gran answered the phone as DJ returned with one last load.

“I don’t know how bad it was,” she was saying when DJ entered the kitchen. “DJ is the one who saw the roof go. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road.”

DJ hung up both their slickers in the laundry room and left her boots there, too. Her jeans felt like she’d gone swimming in them.

“Robert says thanks for letting him know about the roof but that there’s nothing to be done until the storm abates. They’ve closed all the bridges across the Bay, so he’s stuck in the city. He said he wouldn’t ask his local crew to come over, either.” She trailed a finger across her chin, then shook her head. “I know worrying about Joe won’t help a bit but . . .” She reached out to rub DJ’s shoulder.

“You always say to put people in the Lord’s hands and leave them there.”

“I’m tryin’, darlin’. You have no idea how hard I’m tryin’.”

The deepening of her grandmother’s Southern accent told DJ how upset her grandmother was. Wishing she could do more, she wrapped both arms around Gran’s shoulders and hugged. The two rocked together, sharing comfort in the lamplight, an oasis in the midst of the storm.

Lindy called later to say she was fine. She and a bunch of co-workers were holed up at the office, where they still had power. The cafe on the first floor of the building was doing gangbuster business, trying to feed all the stranded. She had no idea when she’d be home.

DJ and Gran went back to their cozy picnic in front of the fireplace. When the phone rang again, they looked at each other, hope blazoned across their faces. Tears spurted as soon as Gran heard the deep voice on the line.

“Oh, darlin’, I was so worried about you.” Gran wiped her nose on the back of her hand, making DJ laugh. She handed her grandmother a box of tissues. “No, we’re fine—warm and dry, thanks to the fireplace. We haven’t had power for hours. You’re the one who we’ve been worried about.” She nodded while he talked.

“Tell him I love him,” DJ said. Gran nodded again.

After hanging up, Gran relaxed against the padded chair, her arms around her knees. She took the crispy marshmallow off the fork that DJ extended. “Perfect. They moved the volunteers to a school until the storm calms down enough for travel to be safe. Right now there are too many falling trees by the river, so only emergency vehicles are out on the roads.” The phone rang again.

“Why, Brad, thank you for calling. Yes, we’re fine. DJ and I are piggin’ out on hot dogs and marshmallows in front of a fire. That’s right, no power. Sure, here she is.” Gran handed DJ the phone.

“Hi. How are things up your way?” DJ inquired.

“The levee is holding, so we’re safe so far. The other rivers are much worse than the Petaluma. All the horses are in the barns or loose in the arena. Of course, the power’s out, but that’s not the important thing right now. With my luck, that mare will foal tonight.”

“Really?”

“No, I don’t think so. She promised to wait for you.”

“I hope so.” She told him where the others were stranded. “A pine tree fell on Gran’s garage, and a chunk of the roof blew off the house Robert is remodeling, but we’re okay. I’ve never been out in such a storm in my life.” When she hung up, she put another marshmallow on her fork. “Burned or brown?”

“Brown, as in dark.” Gran fluffed her hair and stretched back against the chair. “How come I feel like it’s the middle of the night?”

“Got me.” DJ blew on the marshmallow she’d gotten too close to the fire. “Guess this one is mine.” She drew off the outer coating and returned the gooey rest to the fire. “You want me to get out the sleeping bags?”

“No, I think our beds will be warm enough. I’ll just come out and put more wood in the fire once in a while.” They both listened, suddenly aware of the quiet. “The wind has died down. Thank you, God.”

DJ nibbled on the marshmallow as she went to look out the window. Rain still sluiced down, but at least the roar of water and wind was gone. She thought about asking Gran if they could drive over to the Academy but knew the answer without wasting her breath. If only she’d thought to call Bridget before it got so late. Wouldn’t the academy owner call them if something was wrong?

The rain had stopped during the night, and the clouds had blown away. The sun rose again as if the horrible storm was a thing of everyone’s imagination. Much to DJ’s disgust, they had school as usual since the power came back on during the night, too.

After helping her feed and water the horses, Gran drove DJ to school in the morning. Amy was still home sick.
I can tell this is going to be a really great day
, DJ grumbled to herself.
If I’d known Amy was sick, I could at least have fed Josh
. Other than mushy stalls, the Academy had weathered the storm all right, certainly better than Gran’s garage.

DJ had a hard time keeping her mind on her classes. She would rather have been home helping Gran clean up the branches from the fallen tree.
Wait till Joe and Robert see the mess—they’ll have a fit
.

Her afternoon went to pot when her algebra teacher called for a quiz. DJ took out paper and pencil, making sure she had a good eraser. She’d done the homework, but still . . . a quiz today?

“I hate algebra,” she muttered before the teacher called for silence. The guy across the aisle muttered with her. She looked up at the problems on the board.
If x=3 . . .

She could feel her head begin to fuzz up, so she forced her mind to concentrate on the numbers and letters on the board. But when the teacher called time and said to hand your paper to the person behind you, she knew there were at least two wrong out of the ten. She hadn’t even gotten to them.

She ended up with four wrong and barely a passing grade. If her mother found out, she might say no to the horse show. Granted, her total grade at the end of the quarter wouldn’t be totally dependent on four mistakes, but this hadn’t been the first time she’d blown a quiz.

When she school day finally ended, DJ slunked into the rear seat of the Yamamoto van. John was driving again, whistling and tapping the steering wheel, waiting for her.