Opposites Attract

of nightmare went through Asher’s head. In stark terror she stared at her friend. “Oh, God, Madge, how bad?”
    “I’ve got seven months.” As Asher swayed, Madge caught her arm tightly. “Good grief, Asher, I’m pregnant, not dying.”
    Stunned, Asher sank to the bench.
“Pregnant!”
    “Shh.” Quickly Madge glanced around. “I’d like to keep this quiet for a while. Damn morning sickness catches me off guard at the worst times.” Letting out a shaky breath, she relaxed against the wall again. “The good news is it’s not supposed to last long.”
    “I don’t—Madge, I don’t know what to say.”
    “How about congratulations?”
    Shaking her head, Asher gripped both of Madge’s hands in hers. “Is this what you want?”
    “Are you kidding?” On a half laugh, Madge leaned against Asher’s shoulder. “I might not look too happy at the moment, but inside I’m doing cartwheels. I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.” She sat silently for a moment, her hand still in Asher’s. “You know, during my twenties all I could think about was being number one. It was great being there. The Wrightman Cup, Wimbledon, Dallas—all of it. I was twenty-eight when I met The Dean, and still ambitious as hell. I didn’t want to get married, but I couldn’t live without him. As for kids, I thought, hell, there’s plenty of time for that. Later, always later. Well, I woke up one morning in the hospital with my leg screaming at me and I realized I was thirty-two years old. I’d won just about everything I thought I had to win, and yet something was missing. For the better part of my life I’ve floated around this old world from court to court. Team tennis, pro-am tourneys, celebrity exhibitions, you name it. Until The Dean there was nothing but tennis for me. Even after him, it was the biggest slice of the pie.”
    “You’re a champion,” Asher said softly.
    “Yeah.” Madge laughed again. “Yeah, by God, I am, and I like it. But you know what? When I looked at the snapshot of Ty’s nephew I realized that I wanted a baby, The Dean’s baby, more than I’d ever wanted a Wimbledon plate. Isn’t that wild?”
    She let the statement hang in silence a moment as both women absorbed it. “This is going to be my last tournament, and even while that’s hurting, I keep wishing it was over so I could go home and start knitting booties.”
    “You don’t know how to knit,” Asher murmured.
    “Well, The Dean can knit them then. I’ll just sit around and get fat.” Twisting her head to grin at Asher, Madge saw the tears. “Hey, what’s this?”
    “I’m happy for you,” Asher muttered. She could remember her own feelings on learning of her pregnancy—the fear, the joy, the nausea and elation. She’d wanted to learn to sew. Then it had been over so quickly.
    “You look overjoyed,” Madge commented, brushing a tear away.
    “I am really.” She caught Madge to her in a viselike hug. “You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you? Don’t overdo or take any chances?”
    “Sure.” Something in the tone had the seed of a thought germinating. “Asher, did you . . . Did something happen when you were married to Eric?”
    Asher held her tighter for a moment then released her. “Not now. Maybe someday we’ll talk about it. How does The Dean feel about all this?”
    Madge gave her a long, measuring look. The nonanswer was answer enough, so she let it lay. “He was all set to take out a full-page ad in
World of Sports
,” she stated. “I’ve made him wait until I officially retire.”
    “There’s no need to retire, Madge. You can take a year or two off, lots of women do.”
    “Not this one.” Stretching her arms to the ceiling, Madge grinned. “I’m going out a winner, ranked fifth. When I get home, I’m going to learn how to use a vacuum cleaner.”
    “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
    “You and Ty are invited to my first home-cooked dinner.”
    “Great.” Asher kissed her cheek. “We’ll bring the antacid.”
    “Not nice,” Madge mused. “But wise. Hey, Face,” she continued before Asher could rise. “I wouldn’t want this to get around but—” her eyes were suddenly very young, and she looked very vulnerable “—I’m scared right out of my socks. I’ll be almost thirty-four by the time this kid makes an appearance. I’ve never even changed a diaper.”
    Firmly Asher took Madge’s shoulders and kissed both of her cheeks. “You’re a champion,