On Monday DJ had to call Bridget and cancel teaching her new class because the therapist had changed her appointment. DJ grumped out to the car and sulked against the door.
“I’m sorry, DJ, but therapy is the most important part of your life right now.” Lindy glanced away from her driving to give her daughter a stern look. “And schoolwork is second. The Academy has to come third or wherever.” She stopped at a light and glanced at her daughter again.
DJ could feel her mother studying her, but she refused to look up, staring at her hands instead. I finally get to do something I want again, and someone messes it up. “It’s just not fair.”
“No, it’s not fair, but then, no one said life is fair.”
“That’s Gran’s line.”
“I know. I stole it. But I sure remember hating it when she told it to me when I was your age.”
“So why say it to me?”
“Because it’s true and fits right now. Have you been working your hands today?”
“Of course. What do you think I do all the time?” DJ knew she was being a smart mouth, but the words flew out before she thought them through.
“Well, you haven’t been doing them here in the car.”
DJ flexed her fingers and used one hand to push in the fingers of the other. She’d forgotten to bring the rubber-coated bag of tiny beads that Gran had found at the pharmacy. She now had one in bright pink and another in purple. While they were ideal for squeezing, DJ still spent time bending her fingers in with as much force as she was able.
DJ thought back to Sunday afternoon. Brad and Jackie had driven down from Santa Rosa for a barbecue, and with all the family there, it seemed like old times. At least no one had to feed her anymore. Brad had asked her when she wanted him to bring Herndon down.
The thought of riding Herndon with her hands not working any better gave her goose bumps. He could take off so easily, and how would she stop him?
“I won’t be jumping him for a while.” She could hear herself all over again, saying words that made her feel like the sun forgot to come out. Two months had passed since the fire, and DJ still wasn’t sure she could handle Herndon.
But the reins that Joe fixed for her had sort of worked, and she’d ridden Major by herself. But then, he responded to leg signals as much as rein. And he would never run away with her. …
“We’re here.”
DJ looked up to see the medical center ahead of them. She’d totally lost track of time. That happened more often than she liked to think—or admit.
“Get that grumpy look off your face. It doesn’t become you.” Lindy reached back in the minivan for her purse, groaning as she stretched over the seat. “This belly gets in the way of everything.”
But at least it won’t be long until you are back to normal. DJ wisely kept the thought to herself as she lagged behind her mother going into the physical therapy unit.
“So how’re you doing?” Jody asked.
“I rode Major the last two days—yesterday by myself. We glued foam rubber to the reins.”
“Wonderful. How’d the ankle do?”
“Hurt when I tried getting into my chore boots, but …” DJ shook her head and shrugged. “Just hurt too bad.”
“Your ankle should be back to normal in a few more days. Just be patient.”
“I know.” While they were talking, Jody worked with DJ’s hands. She removed the gloves and worked them that way, examining the red skin and scars, then put the gloves back on and taught DJ several new exercises. “Be creative in finding ways to do things on your own, but don’t push yourself to the point of total frustration. Like the reins. That’s a good idea, but if the horse ran away …”
“Major won’t, but Herndon, my jumper, isn’t so dependable.”
“And your balance was okay? No dizziness?”
“None.” At the smile that lit up Jody’s face, DJ knew that was good news. “But I haven’t tried jumping yet.”
Jody smiled again and raised one eyebrow. She turned to Lindy. “I think the DJ I heard about is coming back. Good for you, girl.”
DJ nodded her thanks. “I’m trying.”
“Knock ’em dead, kid. See you on Thursday, regular time.”
“How … how much longer do I have to keep coming?” DJ didn’t look at her mother as she asked the question.
“Until we can no longer do anything for you. We want you to have full mobility again, so you’ll have to keep coming back for a while. I know that as you get back to normal, coming will seem like a waste of time, but humor me, okay?”
“I guess.”
Amy was waiting at the house when DJ got home. “I got a whole new bunch of orders from the business club at school. They are so pumped about our cards. Sure wish you had been there, too.”
“Me too.”
“When we fill these, we’ll be out of cards again.”
“That many?” DJ thought of all the packets in the drawers and shelves in her room. She looked at her hands. There was no way she could count, package, and seal cards yet.
“That’s wonderful,” Lindy said as she walked in behind them. “Maybe it’s time we found a place to package them. I’ve checked with an organization for mentally challenged adults, and they can take on simple jobs like this. I know it will bring down the profit level, but there’s only so much you can do.”
“Then we’d be helping someone else, too,” Amy said.
Leave it to Amy. DJ wished she’d thought of that. All she could think of was not being able to draw or package or even … Well, she could at least help pack the cartons for shipping.
“So what do you think, DJ?”
“Whatever. Sounds fine with me. If we think it costs too much, we can go back to doing it ourselves when …” She raised her hands, which spoke for themselves.
“Well, I gotta get over to the barns. We’ll have to pack those tonight.”
“Yeah, but maybe Mom and I can get it done.” DJ looked to her mother, who nodded. Then at least I’ll feel like I’m doing something. She thought of her homework; the pile seemed to grow every time she left the room. “Say hi to everyone for me.”
“I will.” Amy headed for her bicycle and on out the driveway.
Lindy looked at the order sheets Amy had left. “Now?”
“I guess.” DJ counted packets and packed the boxes, feeling like she had fifteen thumbs. But she got it done while her mother checked off the order sheets and made out the shipping labels. DJ tried taping the boxes, but the tape stuck everywhere except where she wanted it to—the thought of kicking the box clear across the room held great possibilities. “Could you please finish this?” Asking for help hadn’t gotten any easier.
“Sure. Hey, we did that pretty fast.” Lindy took the tape gun and had the six boxes sealed in minutes. “Let’s run these to UPS right now before it closes.”
“Ten minutes?”
“We can make it.”
DJ held out her arms, and Lindy stacked four of the boxes under DJ’s chin and carried the other two herself. She snagged her purse off the table by the door and away they went, calling their destination to Maria as they hurried to the car.
They made it just as the woman was closing the door, but she was nice enough to let them in.
“Sorry we’re so late.” Lindy put her boxes on the counter. “Oh, we forgot your checkbook.”
“No, I brought it.” DJ pulled it from her pocket and held it up. The woman behind the counter had no idea what a feat that was, but Lindy patted her daughter’s cheek.
“Good girl. That deserves a celebration milk shake on the way home.”
The jamoca almond fudge malt tasted mighty good.
DJ rode Major again Tuesday morning after mucking out his stall. Holding the grooming brushes was easier than she thought it would be, and the sheer pleasure of brushing a horse again made her whistle a tune. She’d even gotten an hour in on her homework before the tutor arrived.
Being able to take oral tests instead of written made her day even sunnier.
“Good job,” Debra said. “We’ll plan on midterms next Wednesday. How’s that?”
“Do we have to?” DJ groaned. Tests to study for already?
“We can wait a week if we have to, but let’s get them done before we should be doing quarter finals. I’m hoping you’ll be able to go back to school in the next few weeks, at least part time.”
Just because she’d been up early the last couple of days to take care of Major didn’t mean she wanted to go back to school. Holding a grooming brush was a hundred times easier than a pen or pencil.
That afternoon DJ and Gran got caught in a traffic jam on their way back from therapy. While DJ called Bridget on the cell phone to say she might not make it, she had a hard time throwing off the grumps. Gran patted her knee. “Sorry, but these things happen.”
“I know.” But why me?
On Thursday DJ cantered Major around the pasture. While her mother had to hook and unhook the girth, DJ managed everything else. The October sun sparkled on the dew in the grass and highlighted a spider web on the fence.
Pushing her fingers closed had become such a habit, DJ was no longer aware she was doing it. Whenever she sat down, she picked up the squeeze-me balls and kept working. If her ankle didn’t still hurt at times, she’d have been out running.
But the ice packs were still part of her routine, and now, thanks to Gran’s advice, she’d started rubbing vitamin E oil into her hands. Gran said it would help the scars heal faster.
Brad called on the last Wednesday in October. “So when can I bring Herndon back down for you?”
DJ swallowed before answering. “I … I don’t think I’m ready for him yet. Bridget said I could ride Megs as soon as I can jump again.” I wish I
trusted Herndon, but I don’t. If he runs away with me, I don’t think I can stop him.
“How about I come get you next weekend, then, and you can visit him up here. Stormy’s forgotten who you are, I think. I take pictures out there to show her, but all she wants is carrots.”
DJ chuckled over the ache his words brought. Her little Arabian filly was growing up without her.
“Let me ask Mom, and I’ll call you back.”
“Okay. How is your mom?”
“She says she feels as big as a house, but I think she looks beautiful. I felt the baby kicking last night. Awesome.”
“Okay, kiddo. We’ll see you Saturday or Sunday, whichever works best for you. Jackie said to tell you she’ll put the pasta on.”
They said good-bye and DJ hung up the phone. Was she ready to ride Herndon? And could her hands be trusted to be even with the reins? No sense in teaching her horse bad habits.
Or are you just afraid? That voice again. Were her reasons just excuses?
“Your hands are looking good,” Dr. Niguri said in her appointment on Friday back at the UC San Francisco Burn Center. He checked DJ’s range of motion and nodded with a smile. “I can tell you have been working really hard. I was thinking we might need another skin graft, but now I don’t think so.” He traced a fingertip over the worst scars. “By this time next year these will be such fine lines, you will have to look hard to see them. It’s a good thing you are young and healthy and have a great attitude—all strong marks in your favor.”
DJ glanced at her mother, who gave a minishrug. “My attitude isn’t always the best.”
“You been down some?”
DJ nodded.
“Like way down, can’t see the sky looking up?”
DJ nodded again. “All I wanted to do was sleep.”
The doctor nodded and continued working her fingers. “Perfectly normal. I’d be more concerned if you were happy all the time. That would tell me you were covering up, and that’s not good. More dangerous in the long run.” He picked up the Jobst gloves and put them back on DJ’s hands.
“When can I quit wearing these?”
“We’ll start easing off, like a couple of hours at a time, in a month or so. Your hands could still swell up, and that would be a major step back. Don’t be in a rush to get rid of them. They’re doing you a big favor while all the muscles and tissue in your hands rebuild.” He stood. “So I’ll see you here in another month. How’s the ankle doing?”
“Almost back to normal. But it aches when I’ve been on it too much.”
“Well, pain is a good thing, you know.”
DJ gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-crazy look.
“Now, think this through.” He half-sat on the edge of his desk, arms clasped across the clipboard he held to his chest. “If that ankle didn’t hurt, what would you be doing?”
“Walking more, running to get back in shape, riding more.”
“Right, and keeping that sprain from healing correctly.”
DJ sighed and nodded. He’d made his point. So now she had to be grateful for pain, too.
“The earlier you learn to listen to your body, the wiser and healthier you will become. Our bodies are designed to heal themselves in miraculous ways. When we get enough sleep, eat right, and keep from more damage, the healing happens. And in your case, I’m sure all the prayers have accelerated the healing process. I wish all my patients had the prayer power behind them that you have had.”
“Yes, we’ve been incredibly blessed that way.” Lindy used a tissue to wipe her nose and eyes. “We just can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us.”
“Glad I could help.” He ushered them to the office door. “Uh, DJ, if I ever have a patient that I think would be helped by talking with you, would you be willing?”
“Sure. You want me to bring Major, too?”
“The horse?” The doctor threw back his head and laughed, the kind of laugh that made everyone around laugh with him. “Probably not, but that story is still going around the hospital. How Karen dared to take you out there is beyond me. But it turned out well, so …” He chuckled again. “Sure wish I had seen it all.”
They said their good-byes and DJ followed her mother out to the parking lot. She’d hoped they could go see Karen, but it was her day off. They headed home across the Bay Bridge, which arched across the bay from San Francisco to Buena Vista Island, and then on to Oakland. A
huge cargo ship poked its prow out from passing under the bridge as they drove over. Thanks to their new higher-riding van, DJ could see the many ships and boats in the water below. A haze hung over the bay, blurring the edges of the cargo-loading cranes in the Oakland port and the skyline of San Francisco behind them.
“So what are you planning for this afternoon?” Lindy asked as she changed lanes.
“Teaching the jumping class at the Academy. Then riding Megs.”
“Are you ready for that?”
“Hope so. I can’t see her running away with me.”
DJ had fun starting out the two ladies who wanted to learn to jump and were on riding school horses. She had them walking, then trotting, over the cavalletti just like Bridget had started DJ so long ago. They had to count the strides, and when she finally let them take the first jump, one of them laughed out loud with joy. DJ knew she was going to like the woman.
By the end of class, the horses were sweating, the riders were sweating, and DJ wished she were. While she liked teaching, this standing in one place rather than jumping herself was the pits.
“So you going to ride today?” Tony Andrada waited by the gate for her class to end.
“How’d you know that?” DJ waved her pupils off and held the gate for Tony to ride through.
“Word gets around. We sure miss you around here.”
“We’ll, I’m back, sorta. And yes, Bridget wants me to try Megs today and see how we do.”
“Jumping?”
DJ shrugged. “Probably not the first day I ride her. Knowing Bridget, I’m going to be doing a lot of dressage to get back in shape.”
She didn’t admit that the thought of jumping sent her resident butterflies into total panic.