If I hear “DJ!” one more time, I’m going to throw them out the door!
Gran and Joe had gone to the store for groceries, leaving DJ to watch the boys.
DJ had read the boys three books, helped them build a fort with their Legos, and either wiped or reminded them to wipe their noses 422 times. She quit counting after that. A video of The Lion King held their attention—for the moment.
Back to her homework. She studied the list from her English teacher. One journal entry for every day. It had been two weeks since she’d written anything. The journals were due yesterday, but since she’d been home, she’d have to turn it in Monday. One paper using contrast, one on comparison— she’d have to read the chapter first. Another book report was due, too, and she hadn’t begun to read another book.
She sighed and took out the history list. Only four chapters to read, then choose a famous person from the middle ages to research and write about. No big deal, right?
Her head started to ache again.
She ignored the algebra book for now. She’d missed a quiz on Wednesday.
She headed for the freezer. A juice bar sounded good. Should she disturb the Double Bs and see if they wanted one? Nope.
Not fair! Her little voice plagued her at times. This was one of those times. Sighing, she turned and entered the family room instead. “You guys want a juice bar or Popsicle?”
“Is there purple?”
“I don’t know what kind there is. Come choose.”
Licking her own strawberry one, she left the boys back in front of the video, purple Popsicles in mouths, napkins in laps, noses wiped—again. I sure hope Mom and Robert are having a good time. Look at all the fun they’re missing out on here.
She piled the pillows behind her and settled on the bed, history book in hand, note pad beside her knee. Maybe if she hurried, Gran and Joe would let her go feed the horses later. If she could indeed convince Gran she was all better. She coughed and blew her nose. She kept her mind from replaying the fun she was missing by not being with Brad and Jackie. As Gran had reminded her, they didn’t need the germs, either.
But DJ hadn’t ridden since Sunday and the trail ride into Briones. She stared out the window, past the running rivulets and at the gray sky. Yuck. Back to her homework.
“DJ?”
She groaned. “What?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Me too.”
“You just had a Popsicle.” She finished her juice bar and dropped the stick into the wastebasket by the bed.
“Only half.” They appeared at her door. Mouths lined in purple, noses red from the blowing and running. One had his Winnie the Pooh sweat shirt on backward.
DJ groaned again, set her book aside, and followed the groove she’d worn in the floor back to the kitchen. She split another purple Popsicle and sent them back to the family room.
“Our video is done.”
“Push Rewind and put in another.” The two could work a VCR better than most adults.
“When’s Gran coming home?”
DJ paused in the door to her room. “I don’t know. Soon.” She looked back to see both boys wearing the woeful basset hound look, dark circles under their eyes.
“Will you read us a story?”
“Please?”
“Look, guys, I have a mountain of homework to do, and I don’t feel so hot, either. Why don’t you each bring a book in here so you can look at the pictures while I study. But you have to be quiet.”
What she really wanted to do was take a nap. You’d think she’d been sick for a month, not five days. She plumped up her pillows again and settled a boy on each side of her.
“Now, you promised to be quiet.”
“Yes.”
The boys read, or rather, looked at the pictures quietly—too quietly. DJ glanced from side to side. They were both sound asleep. A yawn cracked her jaw. Maybe she’d just close her eyes for a second or two to give them a rest from all the studying. Her head bobbed as she dropped off.
The fire crackled and snapped, devouring the wood between her and the open barn door. DJ’s skin felt like it was being pulled off her flesh from the heat. She pulled on the lead ropes, but Stormy and her mother refused to leave the stall. A horse screamed. DJ ripped off her shirt and tied it over the mares eyes. With a breath of prayer, she dove between the flames. God, make them follow!
DJ sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding so hard it felt like her ribs would crack. She tried to take in a breath—when it wasn’t smoke filled, she knew for sure she’d been dreaming. The twin on either side of her squirmed and rolled over. She pushed the quilt back.
There was no fire! Thank God there was no fire! Rubbing the scar in her right palm, she inched toward the end of the bed. No wonder she’d dreamed of fire, with the quilt and the hot bodies beside her, she’d been on fire herself. She rubbed the scar again. If only she could remember the long-ago accident, maybe the nightmares would cease. And maybe she wouldn’t freak at the sight of fire.
A drop of sweat ran down her right temple. She gulped the remaining water in the glass on the nightstand and made her way to the bathroom. It took drinking another whole glassful before she could get the feeling of smoke out of her throat. She leaned straight-armed on the counter and stared at the face in the mirror.
“When are you going to get over being so scared of fire?”
The face didn’t answer. DJ ran shaky fingers through her hair, pushing it back off her face. Picking up the brush, she worked it through the snarls and, wrapping a scrunchie around the stuff, got it up off her neck. That helped.
“Man, oh man.” She pulled her T-shirt away from her chest, turned on the water, and scooped it over her face. She could hear Joe and Gran in the kitchen and wandered out there.
“DJ, what’s wrong?” Gran took one look at her and laid the back of her hand against the girl’s forehead. “Your temp’s back.”
“I just had a terrible dream. I couldn’t get Stormy and her dam out of a burning barn.” The memory of it sent a shiver up her spine.
“When people run fevers, they often have strange dreams.” Joe turned from the cupboard where he was putting away groceries.
DJ plunked down on the wooden stool by the phone. “I’m sick of being sick.”
“Drink some orange juice.” Gran reached for a glass in the cupboard and handed it to her.
“I’m sick of orange juice. All I want is to go see Major.”
“I already fed the horses. He asked about you.”
“Funny.” But she couldn’t help smiling—almost.
“So did Tony and Amy and Bridget. Bridget especially hopes to see you soon. She’s teaching for one of the others who’s out sick, too.” Joe raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and Bunny asked after you, too. Said she has something she wants to ask you.”
Gran shook her head. “Don’t even think it, DJ. You go over there and you’ll come home sicker than ever and—”
“I know. And no one else wants my germs.” DJ mimicked Gran’s tone.
“Maria’s sister called. The doctor ordered Maria to the hospital. She has pneumonia plus infections in her sinuses and ears. Now she’s really sick. You want to change places with her?”
DJ shook her head. “Can I call Amy?”
“Sure.” Gran turned to Joe. “We really need to go visit Maria tomorrow. Maybe Lindy and Robert could stop on their way out from the airport.”
“If they call first.” Joe poured himself a glass of water.
Talking to Amy didn’t help DJ a whole lot. Only Amy and John hadn’t caught the bug at their house. All the rest were sick.
“Do you have a book for me to read? I need to do a book report.”
“You want John to bring over a Nancy Drew? If I can get him to, that is.”
“I guess.”
“Well, don’t act too excited.”
“Guess it’s better than doing algebra.”
“So, do you or don’t you? You know you’ll owe him something if he does it.”
“I’ll ask Joe.” When he agreed, she took the phone off her shoulder. “Joe’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and propped her chin on her palms, elbows braced on the counter.
A glass of orange juice clunked on the counter beside her.
“Drink!”
Gran’s tone said now, so DJ drank.
“You need anything else?” Joe asked on his way out the door.
DJ shook her head. “But thanks.” She watched him go. “How can I be tired when I just slept again?” She rubbed her forehead. “Can I get in your bed? The boys have mine.”
“They’ll be out here in a minute. I just heard them.” Gran came and gave DJ a hug. “You’ll live, darlin’.”
“I know. But this stuff is really the pits.” She leaned her forehead against Gran’s shoulder.
“I want my daddy.” One of the boys shuffled in and leaned against DJ.
The other clutched Gran’s apron. “Me too.”
DJ reached for the box of tissues and handed them each one. “Blow.” She rolled her eyes at Gran and shook her head. “One thing’s for sure, I will never be a nurse.”
By Sunday evening, DJ had all her homework caught up but the book report. She tried skimming the book just enough to do the report but kept getting caught up in it. She filled out the book report form as much as she could and kept on reading.
By 8:00, they still hadn’t heard from Lindy and Robert.
“When’s my daddy coming?” Both boys looked up at DJ from the floor by her feet.
“Got me.” DJ looked to Gran for an answer. If they’d asked once, they’d asked a million times.
“Sometimes planes are late,” Gran said. “Why don’t you go sit on Grandpa’s lap? Maybe he’ll read you a story.”
“He’s sleeping,” DJ hissed.
“Oh, you’re right.” Gran gathered both of the twins close. “You go get a book, and I’ll read you a story.”
DJ went back to Nancy Drew.
Nine o’clock came and went.
“But I want to stay up and see my daddy,” Bobby argued when Gran said it was time for bed.
DJ’d finally figured out a way to tell them apart. She’d put a red shirt on Bobby and a blue one on Billy. They thought it was funny. Even without their color-coded shirts, DJ knew Bobby as the one who argued more.
“How about if I call the airport and see when the plane is arriving?” At Gran’s suggestion, their frowns turned upside down. “While I do that, you go get into your pajamas.” They scampered out of the room and down the hall. “Daddy’s coming, Daddy’s coming!” they chanted.
“They’ve been on the ground for over an hour,” Gran announced when she hung up. “They could be here any minute.”
Joe checked his watch. “Depends on how long it takes to get their luggage. I’ll go dish up some ice cream. Come on, DJ, you can chop the nuts for sundaes.”
“Do you have good fudge sauce?” She put the book down and got to her feet, taking time to stretch in the process.
“The best. Mrs. Whatshername’s Fudge Sauce.”
“You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,” DJ quoted the last book Gran had read to the boys.
The sundaes had disappeared and another book had been read when the sound of a car made both boys sit up straight. “Don’t need a watchdog with them on guard.” Joe let loose so Bobby could slide to the floor. When they heard the car slow down and turn into the driveway, both of them darted to the window. “Daddy’s here! Daddy’s here!”
DJ breathed a sigh of relief. While she hadn’t said anything to anyone, she’d been praying for a safe drive from the airport. She’d heard that most accidents happen within five miles of home.
“Daddy! Daddy!” The twins both would have pelted out the door into the rain if DJ and Joe hadn’t grabbed them.
“Sorry we’re late,” Robert called, helping Lindy out of the car at the same time. “Fog in Los Angeles.” Arm in arm, the two came up the walk. The glow from the yard light set haloes of light around them.
The look they gave each other told the whole story. DJ swallowed a lump in her throat. Her mother’s face glowed like the streetlights lending iridescent shimmers to the fog.
Robert wore a child on each arm as they all gaggled in the living room.
“We was sick.” Bobby put his hands on Robert’s cheeks and turned his head so he could look right in his father’s eyes.
“Real sick,” said the other.
“Nanny Ria is in the horsepistol.”
“Horsepistol?” Robert thought a moment. “Oh, the hospital.” He turned to his father. “What’s been going on?”
“Strep and flu. We all had it and mostly got over it, but they put Maria in the hospital yesterday with pneumonia.”
“So you’ve had the boys since when?”
“Last Sunday afternoon, late. I went in to get them.” Gran stood between DJ and Lindy.
“They weren’t supposed to come out here until this afternoon. I’m sorry, Dad, if I’d known—”
“Nothing you could have done. This whole area’s been under siege. You two didn’t get it?”
“No, nothing.” Lindy reached for one of the boys and sat down on the sofa with Billy on her lap. “We brought you some presents,” she said after kissing his cheek and ruffling his hair. “DJ, could you go get the extra bag out of the trunk?”
“I will.” Joe reached for Robert’s keys.
DJ snagged a jacket off the hook in the closet and followed him out the door. Again, the boys took center stage. She might as well have not been in the room. But when something needed doing, who did Lindy ask?
Me, that’s who. Good old DJ, the walking, talking mule. Good for fetching and carrying, but always easy to ignore. Is this the way life is going to be?