High Hurdles Collection Two (80 page)

“Your mother has a box of cards for you at home. She'll bring them in tomorrow if her cold gets better. Seems the bug got the whole family down. So unseasonable, too.”

DJ heard the last of Gran's words, but an answer refused to make it to her mouth. She woke sometime later to see Gran reading her book in the waning late-afternoon sunlight. Her sketch pad lay on the table beside her, her colored pencils back in their box. Gran had a new contract for another picture book that was still in the idea stage. As a well-known and award-winning illustrator, she always had plenty of work. DJ eyed the water glass. Her mouth felt like a herd of mustangs had galloped through it.

She cleared her throat. Sort of.

“Ah, you're awake.” Gran put her things aside and crossed the room to bring DJ a drink.

DJ sucked on the straw as if she hadn't had a drink for a month. “Thanks. You read my mind.”

Karen stuck her head in the doorway. “Hey, DJ, you ready for some visitors?”

“Who?”

“I'm not telling.” Karen gave a horror-movie laugh and left.

DJ and Gran swapped questioning glances.

“Do I look all right?” DJ whispered. She had yet to see a mirror.

“Not even a zit.” Gran laid a hand on DJ's shoulder. The sounds coming down the hall made DJ wish she could peek out the door.

Chapter • 2

“Is this the room of the famous DJ Randall?”

“Duh, I don't know, Chief. No sign on da door.”

DJ could feel her eyebrows shoot up—if she still had eyebrows. A shiver tingled down her back. Who could it be?

“You think we should knock first?”

“Duh, I don't know, Chief. How do ya knock when da door is open?”

DJ could feel a giggle attack about to happen. She looked up to see Gran staring back at her, her eyes dancing. “What … ? Who?”

Gran shrugged.

“Duh, you wanna go first, Chief?”

“Of course. That's why they call me Chief.” A loud clunking sound ended the arrival of four firemen in full fire-fighting gear—with red sponge noses. The first one wore a big sign that read
Chief
. One backed through the door because of the bright red box he and another carried.

“Duh, Chief, is dat DJ?” The one with the biggest nose leaned forward, pretending he couldn't see well.

“You mean that pretty lady standing by the bed or that cute chick who's giggling too hard to say hello?” The chief waggled his eyebrows.

DJ tried to stop laughing, but when the two men waggled their eyebrows in tandem, she lost it. Gran's laughing didn't help.

“Duh, Chief, I tink dey likes us.” He elbowed the man next to him and saluted DJ and Gran. “Dey call me Bozo. Dat's Chief, then Allen and …” He leaned closer to the fourth fireman. “What'd you say your name was? Okay. Yeah, Harvey, like da rabbit.”

The other two firemen set their burden down where DJ could see it easily, and then all four men lined up at the foot of her bed, took off their helmets, clapped them over their hearts, and hummed “mi-mi-mi” in four-part harmony, then broke into “You Are My Sunshine.”

“Duh, Chief, should we give her the present now?”

“Not yet, Bozo. Can't you remember anything?” The chief pretended to swat him with his helmet.

“Oh. Duh.” Bozo shrugged and ducked.

The fireman named Allen stepped to the side of the bed. “Sure am glad to see you looking so well, DJ. The last time I saw you, things were mighty different.”

“This is Fireman Allen White. He's the man who carried you out,” the chief added to the introductions.

DJ fought the tears that not only threatened but trickled down her cheeks. “Th-thank you.” She sniffed, and Gran leaned over with a tissue to wipe her nose and eyes.

“You're most welcome, little lady. We have a couple of things for you.” White picked up a helmet that said DJ and set it on her head. “You are now an honorary member of the Morgan Hill Fire Fighters for saving all the lives of the horses with your quick thinking. You did the hard part. All we had to do was water down the barn.”

“And save my granddaughter.” Gran wiped her own eyes. “We can never thank you enough.”

“Those kinds of things make our jobs worthwhile, ma'am.” White, with his blond crew cut and toothpaste-ad smile in a tanned face, could have posed for a recruiting poster for firemen. He turned to his helper. “We have some other things here that just happened to show up at the firehouse. Thought you might enjoy them.” He held up a video of the 1996 Olympics equestrian events and another of the movie
The Horse With the Flying Tail
, then pulled out a toddler-sized white bear with fur soft as a powder puff sitting in a black rubber bucket with brushes, combs, and curries. “We thought you probably lost yours in the fire.”

DJ nodded. “I did. Thank you.”

He took the bear out of the bucket and placed it on the pillow in the curve of DJ's arm. “The bear told us that you are quite an artist, so we thought maybe you could use these things, too. Not right now, of course, but soon.” The box White opened held charcoal pencils, colored pencils, pastels, acrylic paints, brushes, drawing tablets in an assortment of sizes, and several stretched canvases. “Just an encouragement, of course.”

DJ looked at her boxing-glove hands, then up to the men.

“Don't worry, DJ,” White went on. “No matter what they look like now, your hands
will
hold a pencil again, and reins and brushes, too. This isn't the end of the road, but a big bump you gotta climb over or detour around. When you are jumping in the Olympics, we're going to be front and center, cheering you on like nobody's cheered before.”

“I know you're going to have to work like you've never worked before, but the doc said you'd be all right again, and he never lies,” the chief put in.

“Don't even stretch duh truth like that.” Bozo elbowed the chief in the ribs. “Duh, dis guy here.”

The chief snapped to attention. “I
always
tell the truth.”

“How 'bout duh time …”

DJ giggled through her tears. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

“Just by keeping on keeping on. You call me when you feel down. I've been there, and I know how bad it hurts.”

“You do?”

White nodded. “Someday I'll come tell you my story. I've heard that sharing our stories is one way God brings good out of the hard things that happen to us. Like if I tell you my story and cheer you on, then when you are all better, you get to do the same for others. God is the original recycler. Nothing ever goes to waste.”

Gran mopped DJ's eyes again.

“So you watch your movies and dream of flying over those jumps, okay?”

DJ nodded and sniffed. She raised her arms wide, and Allen White led the other firemen as they each gave her a hug.

“My name's really not Harvey, it's Kevin,” the quiet fireman said. “And I know you can beat this.”

“You go, girl. You're gonna do it,” the chief whispered in her ear.

“I'll try.”

“Nope, trying's not good enough. You just do it.”

“Thanks. And thank you for all of this.” DJ looked up to see three nurses, including Karen, standing in the doorway, drying their eyes.

“Hey, Fireman White, are you married?” DJ couldn't believe she said that.

“No, why?”

“ 'Cause Karen isn't, either, and she's really a super person.”

Karen rolled her eyes and shot DJ an I'm-going-to-get-you-for-that look.

White strolled over to Karen. “What the princess wishes is my command. Will you go out with me, fair lady, or at least let me call you?”

Karen shook her head. “I …”

“You have to. It's DJ's wish.”

“All right. You can call.” Karen raised her hands in surrender.

“Good.” DJ nodded her satisfaction. Allan White was one good-looking dude, and Karen looked good in a red face.

A beeper went off, and the chief unsnapped it from his lapel. He read the display, then said, “Sorry, DJ, but we gotta go.”

“Thank you again for all of this, but mostly for coming.” DJ sniffed again. “I'm not usually such a crybaby.”

“That's okay. If you're a sissy, then there are five of us. See you.” White winked and went out the door.

As they trooped down the hall, DJ heard, “Duh, Chief, can I push the elevator button?”

Gran and DJ swapped rolled-eye looks and shook their heads. “That Bozo.”

“What a couple of clowns and a fine bunch of men. I wish Joe had been here. He'd have loved it.” Joe had served on the San Francisco police force until his retirement. Major had been his horse for his last years on the mounted patrol and retired with Joe, who sold him to DJ.

“They sure were funny.” DJ chuckled again and gave the bear a squeeze. “Feel how soft he is.” But while she squeezed the bear with a smile on her face, she studied the drawing supplies. Would she ever be able to hold a pencil again, or the reins of her horse? She tried flexing her fingers, but the pain made her catch her breath.

“Okay, Darla Jean Randall, we have to talk.” Karen tried to keep a fierce look on her face but failed by the time she reached the bed.

“My name is DJ.”

“Nope, not now. Think of me as your mother. Darla Jean, what got into you?”

“He's cute, huh?”

“Better than cute, but how could you do that?”

DJ shrugged. “I don't know. It just slipped out.”

Karen dug in her pocket and pulled out a business card. “Look at this. He gave me his card.”

“Well, if he's as nice as he is good-looking, you two will make quite a pair.” Gran lifted the helmet from the pillow behind DJ where she had set it earlier. “Honorary member, eh? What an honor.”

“Wait until the Double Bs see this.” At Karen's questioning look, DJ added, “The Double Bs are my twin brothers, Bobby and Billy. The only time you can tell them apart is when one is wearing a bandage or a bruise.”

The bedside phone rang and Gran answered it. “It's Amy.”

“I'll let you talk, since I'm sure my other patients are feeling neglected.” Karen headed for the door.

“Bet the others don't introduce you to good-looking firemen.” DJ giggled at the look Karen sent her, then nudged the phone into the hollow of her shoulder and ear.

“What was that all about?” Amy asked. When DJ was done telling the story, both girls were laughing. Gran periodically rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Totally unbelievable.”

“I know. How are things at the barns and school?”

“We miss you something awful.”

When Gran hung the phone up sometime later, DJ closed her eyes. All kinds of good things were going on without her while she lay in a hospital bed, not even able to go to the bathroom by herself. She hugged the bear and let his soft fur soak up the tears.
What a crybaby you are. Come on, you're tougher than this
, the little voice in her head scolded.

“I hear you had company today,” Dr. Niguri said when he came in a while later. The clatter of dinner trays and the smell of something barbecued preceded him.

“She sure did.” Gran pointed to the helmet.

“Firemen, eh? Looks like they brought the store.”

DJ nodded. “And the bear.”

Dr. Niguri studied the clipboard that held DJ's chart. “Looks to me like you're doing well. Any way I can help?”

“Let me go home?”

“Sorry. As much as I'd love to do that, you'll be here awhile.”

“Awhile?”
Please, please give me a time when I can go home
.

“ 'Fraid so, DJ. We need to do some skin grafts and see how they take. Burns take a lot of care, and we want to make sure you can do everything again that you could before. So bear with us, okay?”

DJ nodded; the lump in her throat made answering too difficult. Days, weeks, what?