High Hurdles Collection Two (32 page)

They didn't even ask how my week went
. DJ set her glass in the sink and helped herself to the cheese and crackers.
At least I did one thingright by bringing home the cheese
.

“Your bed's all made up and everything,” Lindy said after mopping up a spill on the counter. “I told them to just leave the boxes—that you'd unpack them later.”

“Okay. Did anyone call for me?”

“Oh yes, Amy and Mrs. Johnson.” Lindy glanced at the clock. “It's not too late to return the calls. Thanks to Robert, you have a private phone line in your room.” Lindy's rolled eyes gave her opinion on that.

“A private phone? Me?” When she looked at Robert, he nodded.

“You're a young lady now, and I thought you might like that, even though you aren't a phone hog.”

“Thanks.”

“Gran says she plans to take you shopping for art supplies. She about went nuts when she saw the wall of built-ins for your drawing things. I got dibs on buying the easel. We can set the spotlights for wherever you want them.” He stopped a moment. “Would you mind if we made a big copy of your Stormy drawing and hung it over the fireplace?” He pointed to the blank area above the mantel. Bookshelves lined the walls on either side of the fieldstone fireplace. A fire crackled even though it wasn't really cold enough to need the heat.

DJ went to stand in front of it. She looked up at the wall. “I guess. Are you sure that's what you want there?”

Robert came to stand beside her. “We'll have it matted and framed. Unless there is another picture of yours you like better?”

“No, I can't … I just …”

“Spit it out.”

“Well, you've been looking at decorator stuff, and that's … I mean … well, I'm just a kid and not a great artist.”

“Yet.” He laid an arm across her shoulders and drew her into his side. “Nothing would please me more than to hang one of your early drawings there. Someday we can say, ‘We knew her when … ' ”

DJ looked up to see him smiling down at her. “You really mean that, don't you?”

“Just wait and see how fast we can get it done. You want to help pick out the frame? I saw one that had weathered-looking wood and some leather. Seemed to be begging to frame a horse.”

“Thanks.” The warm glow that rose from her toes clear to the top of her hair had nothing to do with the blazing fire. How come one second she could feel like a block of ice and the next be like a bud blossoming in springtime? This up-and-down stuff was getting to be a drag.

“DJ, come see your room.”

“See ours, too.”

So much for the warm moment. She let the twins pull her by the hands, through the arched door and up the stairs. They chattered nonstop until Robert, who followed close behind, clapped a hand over one mouth.

“Remember, that's supposed to be a surprise.”

Good thing she hadn't been really listening.

Bobby or Billy, one or the other, pushed open the door to her room and the other pulled her in.

Her room glowed in the desert colors taken from a horse picture by a famous southwest artist. The framed print took up a good part of the wall above her bed. Even the comforter on the bed swirled like a desert sunset. Bookshelves, cubbyholes, slots for canvas or poster board, thin drawers, deep drawers, and doors all covered one entire wall. She had as much storage space as the art room at school, and this was arranged better. Her poster of the horse jumping through the five Olympic rings held the place of honor between the windows on the south wall.

“Don't you like it, DJ?”

“You don't say nothing.”

DJ squatted down between the two boys. “I don't know what to say.”

“You could say it's pretty.”

“I think it's pretty.”

“Oh man, so do I.” She ruffled their hair and stood up to give first Robert, then her mother a hug. “Thank you.”

“Gran and I helped the decorator. Gran knew you liked this artist.”

“But you said … the boxes …”

“I know.” Lindy giggled and put an arm around DJ's waist. Robert did the same from the other side. “We wanted to surprise you.”

“You did.” DJ nodded, then shook her head. “You sure did.” She hugged both her parents at the same time. When they hugged her back, she felt like the middle of a sandwich. Gran and Joe sometimes gave her the same feeling.

“See your 'puter.” One of the double Bs pulled her to the desk that had been half hidden by the open door. “We gots one, too.”

“Only yours is bigger.”

Her school books were lined up on the shelf above the computer and monitor, along with a dictionary and some other reference books. The shelf above that held her model horse collection and a framed photograph of Major that said
Love, from Amy
.

DJ turned to her mom. “Are you sure this is all for me, that you didn't adopt someone else while I was gone?”

“Yes, we're sure. That's why it seemed so perfect when you were going to Brad's at moving time.”

“We really did want to surprise you. This gave us extra time to finish.” Robert sat down on the bed. “There's a trundle under here for when you want to have someone sleep over.”

“Has Amy seen this?” DJ swept the room with her arm.

“Sure did. She brought you that picture for her room-warming gift.”

“They were going somewhere tonight, or she'd have been here waiting.”

DJ walked around the room, touching the paper slots, opening a drawer, checking out the closet. Her clothes hung neatly in place, as if she'd left them only moments before.

“See the bathroom.”

“And the 'cuzzi tub. It makes noise.”

“And bubbles.”

DJ fell asleep that night with guilt on her mind. And she'd been wondering if her family really cared. “God, I sure messed up again, didn't I?” Was that a heavenly chuckle she heard or merely the wind in the trees outside?

Her week passed in a blur. Monday she got eighty percent on her algebra quiz, her best grade ever. Major was no longer limping, hadn't been for four days. So she got to ride him, nice and easy but a good workout.

Tuesday her three girls welcomed Andrew back into their class and made him laugh till he forgot to be afraid. Wednesday Gran and Joe left for New York. Thursday she got to take a dressage lesson. She still hesitated to jump Major, but she could tell he felt good.

Friday she left school early so the entire family could take her into San Francisco for her art weekend. They stopped in front of a three-story Victorian mansion with the trim painted in white and three shades of purple.

“It's huge.” DJ gulped. And here she'd been wondering how there would be room enough for ten kids.

“It probably has a basement, too,” Robert said, shaking his head. “How I would love to have one of these old ladies to renovate.”

“I do hope you mean the house,” Lindy said. She snagged a hand of each of the boys, who were on their way to check out the wrought-iron fence.

“Funny.” Robert turned to DJ. “You got everything?” At her nod, he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “I know the paper says all your expenses are taken care of, but you might need some money.”

“But Mom already gave me—”

“That's fine. This is just to be sure.”

DJ took the money and put it in her backpack along with the ten from Lindy. She took in a deep breath. “Guess I better go up there.” The ancient concrete stairs from the street up had moss and a fern growing out of the cracks. A fuschia so old its gnarly trunk was thicker than her wrist dropped pink and purple petals, like drooping dancing ladies, on the lichen-covered rocks and gray stairs.

“I'll go with you and make sure we're in the right place.” Robert took her duffel bag and started up the steps.

Looking up at a round stained-glass window in a dormer on the third floor, DJ shook her head. What was she getting into now? And what she wouldn't give to be back at the barns!

Chapter • 8

DJ knew she was in love.

And it had nothing to do with guys.

The way Isabella Gant used her pencils and charcoals to create her drawings was nothing short of miraculous in DJ's eyes. She watched carefully as the artist used overheads and slides to show the progression of strokes. While she already understood some about the value of lines, now it made even more sense. And never before had she heard of negative space.

By Saturday afternoon she was looking at the world through entirely new eyes.

She hated to take breaks, wanting to learn every bit that she could. But talking with other kids who loved to draw was fun, too. So was walking the hills of San Francisco with a sketch pad in hand.

Sunday morning they were sent out two by two with instructions to bring back three drawings, each one with a different purpose.

Paired with redheaded Sean Maclaine, she raced him down the long steps from Broadway to the marina district. Sun and a good breeze brought San Francisco Bay alive with sailboats running before the wind over swells deep enough to send spume flying over the bows. Golden Gate Bridge arched high above the bay waters, for once not hidden by the fog that hung out on the horizon.

“Do you sail?” Sean asked, pausing to point out a double-masted catamaran with full sails flying.

“No. Not unless you call taking a horse over jumps sailing. We sail through the air, not water.” DJ pulled out her pad to do her six-line sketch of a pot with tulips. “Do you?”

“Some. I crew for a local boat during the races sometimes.”

“Really?” DJ flipped the paper over and tried again. Sean, too, was sketching away.

DJ looked down the length of steps. They'd stopped on the halfway landing. Primroses, pansies, and tulips lined the concrete steps, along with some flowering shrubs she didn't recognize. Late-blooming pink and white camellias colored the shade from the eucalyptus trees bordering the Presidio, an army base in existence since the early settlement days of San Francisco.

If only she could capture color with pencils. One of these days she'd be taking oils and acrylics in art class. She had worked some with pastels, but her fingers seemed to like pencil best. For now.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they jogged the remaining blocks to the Palace of Fine Arts, a monument left from the San Francisco World Fair in 1939. A path circled the pond inhabited by ducks and geese along with several pairs of swans. DJ stopped to sketch a turtle dozing in the shade of drooping grasses.

So many things to draw. She set to work, filling one page after another.

“We have half an hour before we have to start back.”

“Already?” She looked up and caught the shadows of the domed building with arches. “Just a few more minutes.”

She sketched with all the speed she could muster, getting the main lines down and hoping she would remember what to fill in later.

Sean stretched and DJ sketched the angle of his arm. He had an easy-to-draw face with a strong square jaw and straight nose. Copper hair flopped over one eyebrow, and a diamond stud twinkled in his earlobe.

While she drew him, he drew her.

“Two minutes. You think we can run those stairs in two minutes?”

DJ slung her things into her backpack and shoved both arms in the straps. “Not if we sit here any longer.” Off they went, pounding along the sidewalk.

“You're in … good … shape.”

“You … too.” They stopped halfway up the stairs to get their breath.

“We're … late.” Puff, pant.

“Then … what … are we … waiting … for?”

DJ's legs shook so badly she could barely lift them over the last step. And they still had a block to go. Other kids from the group were straggling in same as they were.

Ms. Gant met them at the door. “So you found things to draw?” She looked at her watch. “But you are late. I think there is no time for lunch.” At their groans, she laughed, a full-bodied laugh that invited them all to join in. “Come, Ramona has lunch on the table. We will talk while we eat.”

DJ's drawing of the turtle was pinned up as a good example of light and shadow. It seemed she could draw more than just horses after all.

“I hope you will continue to draw,” Ms. Gant said as DJ put her things away after the final session on Sunday afternoon. “You have an unusual talent for someone your age for getting a feeling across in your pictures. Many people spend a lifetime trying to learn that.”

DJ swallowed. “Th-thank you. I really loved being here—with you.” She followed the other students as they left, all of them saying their goodbyes.

Sean met her at the door. “It was fun working with you. I'd like to go drawing with you again. I live in Palo Alto, you know, but I can drive.”

“I have a horse show at the Palo Alto Equestrian Center in June. You could come to that if you like.” She shrugged. “Not that I'll have time to draw, but you could.”