Deceptions (5 page)

Too bad about the match,' one of her partners said, bringing her to earth. She nodded shortly, 'You're good to watch, though,' he added soothingly. 'Girls usually aren't interesting, but you're so beautiful I really enjoyed it.'

Stephanie stopped dancing. 'What an amazingly stupid remark.'

*Hey,' he said defensively, 'I only meant—*

'I know what you meant.' She wasn't interested in him; she wanted Charles. Where was he? Why hadn't he asked her to dance? 'Excuse me,' she said, and walked away, moving like a shadow between swaying couples, searching the room. And then she saw him. He was in a shielded nook, talking animatedly to a young woman. She stood with her back to Stephanie, wearing a shimmering ice-blue gown, her heavy auburn hair caught loosely at the back of her neck by a matching ribbon. Sabrina! Stephanie thought, and started forward eagerly. How amazing to find them both—She

stopped as she saw Charles's expression - eager, fascinated, adoring. In their whole afternoon together, not once had he looked at her like that.

The music stopped and a young man approached Stephanie. She did not turn her head. All she saw was Charles and Sabrina.

' ... this dance?' he asked, and reached for her. Still without looking at him, she shook her head.

'Why not?' he cried. 'Stephanie, what's wrong?'

His plaintive voice calling her name rang out in the quiet moment before the conductor brought down his baton for the next dance. Charles swxmg about. For an instant Stephanie's tyes met his and then she fled, holding up her skirt and weaving between the whirling couples out of the ballroom,

Sabrina ran after her. Ignoring Charles's frantic questions, she pushed her way past curious dancers and through the mahogany doors. She caught a glimpse of Stephanie'syellow dress in the closing elevator and sped down the corridor to take the next one to the floor where the Juliette seniors were staying for the night of the dance.

'Stephanie?' She knocked on the door of Stephanie's and Dena's room. There was no answer. She waited, catching her breath. Her heart was pounding at the memory of the awful despair on Stephanie's face. I didn't know, she thought. I didn't know. But I would have, if I weren't so selfish. 'Stephanie, please.'

'It's open,' Stephanie said.

She was curled on the couch, crying, and Sabrina ran to her, kneeling on the carpet to take her hands. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Why do I hurt you when I love you more than anyone in the world?' Stephanie tried to pull her hands back, but Sabrina clutched them. 'Please, Stephanie, I didn't mean to hurt you. I wasn't flirting. He just came up to me—'

Stephanie jerked her hands away. 'They're always "just coming up to you",' she said furiously. 'Have you ever thought of saying no?'

Sabrina stared at her. 'I do. But this was different. Charles—'

'Don't lie about it! It was just another—'

'Stephanie, stop. It was different. He thought I was you.*

'That's not true,' Stephanie said swiftly.

'It is. I got there late, I was alone, and when he came up I didn't recognize him. I'd never seen him before this morning, at your match, and that was only for a minute, when the two of you were leaving. And he didn't say my name at first; we just started talking, and then all of a sudden he called me Stephanie, but I couldn't stop him—'

'You could have stopped him before then. You knew what was happening.'

Sabrina's shoulders slumped. 'Of course I did.' She looked down at her beautiful dress and thought how wrong it was to look so pretty and feel so terrible underneath. She needed Stephanie; she'd come to the ball looking for her. desperate to talk about what had happened that afternoon, and now she'd hurt her and they were quarreling. 'I guess I didn't want to stop him.'

'Why not? Do you always have to show everyone you're better than me?'

'Stephanie!'

'Well, you are better, aren't you? Everyone knows it. You won the sailing championship this morning. You would have won my fencing match. You wouldn't lose a boyfriend. You never lose anything.'

With a sinking feeling, Sabrina saw how wide the gulf was between them. 'I didn't know he was your boyfriend,' she said helplessly.

'You knew I left the gym with him. That was a clue.' Stephanie's eyes were flat. 'Why didn't you tell him who you were?'

Sabrina spread her hands. 'Something happened today... I was looking for you, to talk about it, but you were dancing and then ...'

In spite of herself, Stephanie was caught by the unhappi-ness in Sabrina's voice. 'What happened?'

'Marco came in from Paris.'

'I thought he couldn't come until tomorrow.'

'He was anxious.'

Stephanie heard the contemptuous note. 'For what?'

'Some ... games he thought I should play now that I'm grownup.'

They looked at each other. 'What did you do?'

'Threw a paperweight at him and told him to get out/

Stephanie laughed in reluctant admiration. 'Did he?'

'All the way back to Paris, I guess.'

'You don't think you'll see him again?'

'I know I won't. He called me a fool. Maybe I am.'

Stephanie was about to ask what games Marco had suggested when the thought came that once again Sabrina had beaten her; she had been desired and pursued, while Stephanie couldn't even get Charles to take her to a hotel. 'But why did you take it out on me?' she cried, and Sabrina felt as she had once when the calm eye of a hurricane passed and the furious winds returned.

She jumped up and began walking back and forth, rubbing her arms to warm them. She was ashamed of her trick on Charles and frightened by Stephanie's eyes. But worst of all was the gulf between them. How had they pulled so far apart?

'I didn't take it out on you. I'd never do that. I really didn't know he was important, and when I realized he'd mixed us up it was like a game. But it was only a few minutes; I was about to tell him when we heard your name. Stephanie, I would never hurt you—'

'It doesn't matter,' Stephanie said wearily. 'He liked you better than me, anyway. Whatever I try to do, you do it better.'

'That isn't true.'

'Then tell me why you left the fencing team.'

'Why I—? That was a year ago. It has nothing to do with—'

'Because you were so much better than I was.'

'I wasn't better, I was different.'

'More aggressive, more formidable. Everyone knew it.'

Sabrina stopped pacing. Stephanie's pain cut into her. 'I wanted to sail. And I knew 1 could be captain.'

'You knew nobody paid attention to me when you were fencing. That's why you left the team.'

'No. I like sailing better than fencing. That was the only reason.' She had never lied to Stephanie before. I'm sorry, she said silently. I just don't know what else to do. 'Anyway,

what difference does it make, it's all past. Unless you want us to fence together at the Sorbonne; why don't we do that—'

'It's easier for you to get good grades, too.'

Sabrina shook her head. She felt sick. How long had Stephanie been hiding these feelings?

'Oh, yes, it is. You never study or cram and then you get A's, and I'm always studying.'

'And getting A's.'

'Yes, but everything comes to you, Sabrina, like grades and fencing and Charles, but I have to work at them and then hold tight or they'll get away.' She was crying, and Sabrina knelt beside her again.

'Please, Stephanie, stop, please stop, I can't stand it if you cry because of me. I'm sony about Charles, I'm sorry about fencing, but you're more important than anything.' She was crying, too, for Stephanie and for herself, because she'd done everything wrong and Stephanie's anger was shutting her out. 'I don't know what you want me to do, but I'll do whatever—'

'There isn't anything.' Stephanie sat straight. 'Sabrina, I've decided to go to Bryn Mawr instead of the Sorbonne.'

Stunned, Sabrina stared at her, 'Bryn Mawr?'

'It's a good school, and since I'm already enrolled there, thanks to Mother and Daddy, that's where I'll go.'

'But we were going to Paris together.'

'Sabrina, don't look so—lost! What are you worried about? You'll be fine. I'm thinking of me. I have to find out who I am separate fi-om you. You're so bright and exciting, I just fade away when you're around. Nobody would notice me at all if you didn't step aside sometimes.'

'No, no, no.' Vehemently, Sabrina shook her head. 'Of course people notice you, what are you talking about?' But Stephanie was silent, and Sabrina jumped up and began to pace again. Why hadn't they ever talked about these things? We're changing, she thought; we're talking in different ways. And so she told Stephanie something she had never even admitted to herself. 'Stephanie, when I do exciting things, or crazy things, it's because everybody expects it. They tell me how wonderful I am and then I look for more

things to do ... ' She paused. 'I'm afraid if I don't, they'll stop loving me and thinking I'm wonderful. You're the only one 1 'm sure of who loves me just because I 'm me. Everybody else talks about how beautiful I am, or how exciting it is that I win races and contests, how spectacular I am.' She hesitated again, then burst out, 'I need to be the center of attention. I wish I didn't.'

Stephanie had stopped crying. 'You'll have the attention all to yourself in Paris.'

Sabrina stood still and gave her sister a long look. 'I don't deserve that, 1 was trying to be honest.'

'I'm sorry. 1 meant we'll each have our own attention. For the first time.' Her eyes were bright. 'It'll be an adventure, Sabrina. You always told me I should want them, remember?'

Sabrina searched those bright tycs for malice but found none. *I never tried to overshadow you,' she said helplessly.

'Maybe not. But I still feel like I'm just Sabrina Hartwell's twin sister.' She looked down at her hands. 'We'll write to each other instead of talking.'

Sabrina heard a new note in Stephanie's voice; she was beginning to waver. I could change her mind, she thought. If 1 pushed, if I reminded her of how often we needed each other the last three years, she'd come to Paris. We'd be close again. Once she had told her mother and father, 'Stephanie and I are the only family we have.' It was still true. I could convince her to come with me, she thought.

But she couldn't do it. Because Stephanie was right; she had to get away. Sabrina shrank from that awful fact - my sister doesn't want to be with me - but she couldn't deny it. She gloried in her own brightness and Stephanie had to escape, to find her own. I won't stop her from doing that, she thought. I won't make it any harder than it already is. I've done enough tonight to hurt her.

So she sat beside Stephanie on the couch and swallowed the tears welling in her throat. 'What a lot of talking we'll do on summer vacations!' she said brightly. They sat together, not touching, their hands in their laps like proper

young ladies. I love you, Sabrina said silently to Stephanie, and began that moment to live her life alone.

Chapter 4

The audience in the opera house stilled as the lights dimmed. Spotlights came up on heavy gold curtain, the conductor swung down his baton and the sensual Spanish music of the overture wove through the hall, its gypsy lilt making Stephanie want to dance. She looked at Dena. 'Thankyou,' she whispered, grateful for everything: New York at Christmas, shopping, theaters and the Cardozos' box for her favorite opera. Sighing happily, she let the music catch her up as the curtain majestically parted on a crowded scene of brilliantly dressed dancers and soldiers in bright red uniforms.

A commotion broke the spell; behind them, someone pulled open the door of the box, then stumbled against a chair. Stephanie and Dena swung about. 'Sony,' a voice said. In the shadows Stephanie saw a tall man with dark hair trying to close the door and tug off his coat at the same time.

'Are you in the right box?' Dena asked.

He nodded and sat in the armchair behind Stephanie. Dena waited, but he said nothing more. She studied him for a moment, then looked at Stephanie, shrugged and turned back to the stage, 'Rumpled,' she murmured.

Stephanie gave a small laugh at Dena's swift judgment. Whoever he was, he was respectable, even though his jacket needed pressing. And he was self-confident enough to offer a single apology and then stop.

In the next minute she forgot him. On the stage. Carmen was singing with slow, taunting sexuahty to the infatuated young soldier, Don Jos6, and the song flowed through the audience like molten gold. Stephanie leaned forward, feeling its power. But she was distracted, aware of something besides

the music. She turned around and met the eyes of the stranger, watching her.

She was the one who turned away, flushed from the steadiness of his gaze. He was older than she, with a strong face and a more direct look than she was used to in the men at colleges near Bryn Mawr. Turning her head slightly, as if she were looking at the side of the stage, she saw from the comer of her eye that he was still looking at her. He's missing the whole opera, she thought, and felt her hps curve in a smile. For the first time she wondered who he was and how he had a ticket for the Cardozos' box.

'Excuse me,' he said. 'Did you drop this?' Stephanie turned to look at the program in his outstretched hand and shook her head, her lips curving again. He knew she hadn't dropped it; he could see her program on her lap. 'pieir eyes held for a moment and then she turned away again. But for the remainder of the first act, she could see him at the edge of her field of vision, watching her.

'Garth Andersen,' he said, holding out his hand as the lights came up at intermission. Dena reached out quickly to take it.

'E>ena Cardozo. Are you a friend of the Bartons?'

He chuckled at Dena's protectiveness, making her feel young and uncertain. He shouldn't do that, Stephanie thought, and as if he realized it himself he said quickly, 'We're old friends. And I apologize for my noisy entrance. The Banons neglected to tell me they shared the box and then I was late; I forgot the time at work and was afraid I'd miss the overture.' He held out his hand to Stephanie. 'We haven't met.*