High Hurdles (68 page)

“Daddy’s here!” The shout jolted her back to her own room.

Papers flew as the boys leaped to their feet and bolted out the door.

DJ blinked as she surveyed the scattered mess. Her blue notebook lay on the floor next to her drawing pad. Pages of each mixed with the paper she’d given the boys for drawing. Her heart thudded—one of them had colored on one of her pictures of the foal!

Her mood darkening, she rummaged through the papers. They’d used others of her drawings for coloring, too, and her algebra papers now wore colored streaks, wavy lines, and circles.

“Bobby and Billy!” DJ hit the stairs running, fury flaming red before her eyes.

Chapter
•
10

“Hey, DJ, you don’t have to yell at them like that.” Robert looked up from hugging his boys.

“But they colored on my drawings!” DJ thrust the messy sheets at him. “Look.”

“DJ, don’t talk like that to Robert!” Lindy turned from hanging up her coat. “What is the matter with you?”

“They ruined my drawings of the filly—the ones Gran said are the best I’ve ever done.”

Robert took the sheets of drawing paper from her hand, glancing from them down at the Double Bs, who wore expressions of total confusion mixed in with sorrow and a bit of fear. Lindy crossed to investigate the damage, too.

“DJ said to color so she could study.” One twin thrust out his lower lip.

“We was quiet.” A tear bobbled on a set of long eyelashes.

“Can you do the drawings over, DJ?” Robert asked quietly.

“That isn’t the point here!” Lindy huffed. “Darla Jean Randall,
you
were the one in charge. That makes
you
responsible if something goes wrong. After all, you agreed to watch the boys.” Lindy advanced on her daughter.

DJ clamped her teeth together and glared at her mother.

“Didn’t you?”

What could DJ do but nod?
But why couldn’t the Bs keep to the stuff I gave them to do?
“They still shouldn’t have gotten into my drawings.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Maybe if she squeezed hard enough, she could keep the ugliness inside.

Rotten, nosy little brats
. All that hard work gone to waste. And she’d thought to frame one for Brad. At least
he
cared about her drawings. He loved them.

She glared again at the twins, steeling herself against their tears.

“I’m talking to you, Darla Jean.”

“I hear you. What do you want me to do, fall on my knees and apologize? They”—she stabbed her finger at the boys—“should apologize to me.” She jabbed her chest with the same finger.

“DJ, don’t talk to your mother that way.” Robert cut into their growing fight.

“Stay out of this, Robert. This is between me and DJ.” Lindy flashed him a look that would send most people scrambling.

“Now, honey.” Robert dropped his voice and tried to sound soothing.

As if that isn’t the oldest trick in the book. It won’t work with her, either.
DJ felt her jaw go even more rigid—if that were possible.

By now, both boys were sobbing. At the sight of them, DJ felt tears gather behind her own eyes. She squinted at her mother. “It wasn’t my fault! You always think everything is my fault and that I never do things right. I’m never home on time, I’m—”

“That’s enough!” Robert thundered, cutting the air with his hand as though separating the chaotic group.

Four sets of eyes stared at him.

Two pairs of small arms clung to his thighs.

Lindy stood there, her mouth open.

DJ spun around to head back up the stairs.

“Sit down!” Robert’s words snapped DJ around like a whip. She parked herself on the bottom step, but when she tried to lean back as if she didn’t care what he said, her body wouldn’t lean. Instead, her arms wrapped around her knees, and she hid her face in the comfort of her worn jeans.

She heard the soft
woosh
of air from the pillows of the sofa as someone sank into it. Her mother was following Robert’s instructions, too. The boys sniffled, followed by another
woosh
from the sofa. Robert this time? She peeked beyond the safety of her arms. Robert now had one arm around her mother, but Lindy was sitting as stiffly as her daughter. The boys had divided, one sticking with Robert, the other with Lindy.

Only DJ was alone.

The carpet from the stairs to the sofa looked about five hundred miles wide.

She shut her eyes against the sight and ordered herself not to cry.
Don’t you dare!
She wanted to plug her ears against the voice that whispered inside her head,
It
was
your fault, you know
.

What would Gran say when she heard about this latest mess?

“Now, I know we’re all uptight, what with the wedding coming and the storm, but fighting isn’t going to solve anything. It never does.” Robert’s voice was firm.

Maybe not, but it makes me feel better,
DJ argued.

Yeah, right, it does.

Her nose itched, and she needed a tissue. Her throat filled, and her eyes burned.
I’m not going to cry
. DJ’s nose began to drip.

God, you know I hate it when I get mad like this. I might as well have beat those two little guys up like I wanted to. Look at them.
DJ sneeked another peek. Her mother looked like someone had sucker-punched her, her face was so white and pinched, and there were black blotches under her eyes. Was she tired, or had her mascara smeared?

Lindy rubbed both her eyes and her forehead. “I agree. This family has to learn to talk out problems without getting into a fight.”

But we’re not a family—not yet!

DJ could hear footsteps coming closer. One sniff, then another, told her it was the Double Bs.

A small hand came to rest on her arm. “DJ, please. We’s sorry.”

Another hung on her other arm. “Please, DJ? We won’t ever touch your stuff again. Ever. We promise.”

Much against her will, DJ wrapped an arm around each of them. “I’m sorry, too, guys. I shoulda been watching you like I was supposed to.”

“You should have put your things away, too. This wouldn’t have happened then,” Lindy said, her voice as tired as her face.

Instead of answering her mother, DJ hugged the boys.
As usual, everything is my fault
.

“Look, I’m sorry I’m not perfect like—” One look at Robert’s face and DJ snapped her mouth shut. She waited again. “Mom, Robert, I’m sorry. Please forgive me?”

When Robert nodded and smiled at her, she looked to the boys, who stood, sober as sticks, by her knees. “You too?”

They threw their arms around her neck. “We love you, DJ.”

“I love you guys, too.” She squeezed them back, feeling the anger drain right out of her head and down and out through her toes. She took in a deep breath. “Don’t worry, guys, I’ll draw the pictures again. Fiddle, maybe they’ll come out even better the second time. Besides, you didn’t ruin them all.”

But later, after Robert and the boys had left, DJ realized her mother hadn’t said she’d forgiven her yet. In fact, she hadn’t said anything to DJ since. What was going on now?

Should I go in and talk to Mom, or should I wait for her to come to me? Maybe I should just skip the whole thing
. DJ chose the latter and, after gathering up her things for the morning and cleaning up the mess the boys had left, climbed into bed and prayed. She snuggled down to get warm. How come Gran hadn’t called to say Joe was home? How come DJ’s life was always such a disaster?

A note on the message board greeted her in the morning.
Please forgive me, DJ. I was too tired to think last night. I forgave you immediately and didn’t realize I hadn’t said anything until much later. Tell Gran to call me at the office after one. I have a few things to take care of. Love, Mom.

DJ read the words again. Now her heart felt just like the sun bursting through the clouds. A new day had come. She called Gran before running out the door, and Joe answered.

“Hi, kid. Sorry we didn’t call last night, but it got to be so late.”

“Are you okay?” DJ wrapped the cord around her finger.

“Other than feeling like I was run over by a fleet of eighteen-wheelers, I’ll make it. That sandbag stuff is for younger guys. Look, I’ll take care of the horses today if you’ll do it tomorrow. I’m going back up with the guys to help clean up now that the river is down again.”

“You want some help?”

“Sure, if your mom doesn’t mind. They can use every able pair of hands we can get.”

“I’ll ask around the Academy today to see if others want to come.”

DJ heard a horn honk. “My ride’s here. See ya tonight.”

By the end of the day, DJ had rounded up seven kids to help with the cleanup. They agreed to meet at the school at 8:00 a.m. on Sunday, bringing lunches and drinks for themselves. DJ reminded everyone to bring gloves and rain gear in case another storm struck.

“My dad can take a bunch in the van,” Tony Andrada offered. “I’ll ask him and call you if it doesn’t work out.”

When they drove up to the front of the school in the morning, the group had grown. Whole families were there besides the high school kids. Joe had everyone assigned a ride and the troop on the road within half an hour.

“Boy, you sure know how to get a group going.” DJ looked at him with pride.

“They teach you crowd control at the police academy.” Joe, driving the lead car, checked the rearview mirror. “Anyway, it was you who started the thing rolling. Any time I want something done from now on, I know who to call.”

“DJ’s always been one to fight for the underdog,” Gran said. “I know Robert and Lindy would be here, too, if there wasn’t so much to do before the wedding and so little time to do it in. Of course, losing part of the roof to that new addition sure didn’t help anything.”