Mixed-Up Matrimony

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More than anything, that little gesture destroyed Tamara. She stumbled backward and felt for the bed, encountering instead Bronson’s hand, which helped her sit down.

Normally Tamara would have been furious at seeing pity and sympathy in Bronson’s eyes, but right now she felt totally numb. Sabrina had acted as if her own mother were a monster, someone she needed to be defended against.

Sabrina had until very recently looked up to her, and imitated her in many things. They’d been mother and daughter. They’d been close friends. For her whole life Tamara had put her daughter first, and now Sabrina had withdrawn from her. Totally.

Tamara felt like withdrawing herself. The pain was horrifying, worse than when she’d fallen from a tree and broken her leg and her wrist; worse than when she’d given birth to Sabrina in a natural labor that seemed to stretch into an infinity of endless agony.

As if from far away, Tamara heard Bronson talking. “—and you know how strongly I feel about your continuing your education, Christopher. But why should Sabrina have to give up hers?”

“Because if I plan on turning pro, Dad, someone has to help me type the term papers, do the homework, and practice. Sabrina can take a couple of lessons a week to stay sharp, so that I’ll be able to hit with her. She’s the best warm-up partner I’ve had yet.”

The egotism of the statement would ordinarily have had Tamara attacking it and its issuer vigorously. But she was still reeling from Sabrina’s uncharacteristic, cruel behavior.

It was again Bronson who stepped in. “I think Tamara had a point about wasting Sabrina’s talent. And her education. Have you thought about her welfare?”

“Since when have you cared about anything other than my turning pro, and having everything you never had, Dad? Do you have the hots for Tamara?”

Bronson stood slowly, removing his hand from Tamara’s, clasped tightly in her lap. He had seen red before when it came to his son—what parent of a teenager hadn’t?—but this was too much.

“It’s Ms. Hayward to you, boy. And you will apologize to her immediately.”

Christopher tried to look defiant, but apparently the sight of his father’s rigidly held body and the sound of his low growl reached him.

“Sorry, Ms. Hayward,” he mumbled, drawing closer to Sabrina.

Tamara shook her head. If he was really sorry, he would think of Sabrina’s future first. Of her well-being. His apology, forced as it was, didn’t signify anything. And Christopher’s was not the apology she wanted.

“Why, Brina?” she asked, unconsciously using the nickname. Her throat was arid, and she swallowed so that the words could come out more coherently. “Why do you want to throw your future away? If you don’t want to turn pro, fine. If you don’t want a tennis scholarship, that’s fine by me, also. I’ll try to come up with the money to pay for all four years of school. I’d hoped you’d attend Yale or Northwestern, but any school would do.” Her hands extended in unconscious supplication. “Only don’t just quit on everything—particularly yourself. You’re too bright, too talented, to let these precious years pass you by.”

“Are you any happier, Mom? You don’t have a love in your life. Can you tell me that having a career has fulfilled you?”

“I can tell you that when your father and I divorced, it was hard at first. But you were always my priority. And a career has satisfied, me, yes. College and a career are not for everyone—men or women. But I know you, Sabrina. You will be sorry—maybe not now, or next month, or even next year, while you’re living this fantasy. But you will be sorry—and then it will be too late to do anything about it—especially about your tennis. Don’t let life pass you by.”

“Life will pass me by if I can’t be with Christopher. I’m choosing love over career, Mother.”

Tamara let her hands fall to her sides. She could not take everything in at once. She would have to regroup, because she could not reconcile this hostile, changed young woman with the child that she had worshiped, adored, and put above all else.

“Being with Christopher doesn’t mean you have to give up tennis, Sabrina,” Bronson said, kneeling in front of her so as not to intimidate the girl. “You can still pursue your dreams, and especially your education.”

“My only dream is to be with Christopher,” Sabrina said stubbornly. She looked up at the boy, who returned her adoring look.

Tamara tried to throw off the lethargy of shock from her body. This was her baby, for heaven’s sake!

“What made you change your mind about eloping, Sabrina?”

“I didn’t want to go through all the hassle of you forbidding me to marry Christopher. I figured that someone would snitch. I didn’t think it would be Meghan!”

“Yeah, Dad. Who told you? One of my ‘friends’? Jonathan, maybe?”

“As a matter of fact, it was my cousin, Christopher,” Bronson said.

“Brandy?” Christopher said, his tone horrified. “I thought she was cool, that she’d be on my side.”

“That’s why you went to her, and told her all about Sabrina, the girl you planned to marry, right?” Bronson said sarcastically. “Why did she have to find out through the grapevine? Or is it that you were afraid, and ashamed of acting like less than a man?”

Bronson’s harsh words brought a crimson tide to his son’s cheeks. “I am