The Friendship Pact

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  My heart sank. Shit. “There is no baby,” I told her. “Not yet,” I had to add now that we were going to talk about it anyway.

  “I know, but you were scared enough that you both got tested and didn’t tell me....”

  I’d left her out of something important, ultimately hadn’t trusted her. She didn’t deserve that. I felt the weight of it through my whole body.

  “I’m sorry, Bail. I just...”

  “I know, you didn’t say anything because you don’t want me to rush off and get pregnant just to keep up with you. I understood that, Kor. But I...I...”

  “...you need me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Just like I need you. You were the first number I dialed when I found out. But then...”

  “I know.”

  She was glancing toward the door. Jake’s imminent arrival was upsetting her, too.”Would it be so horrible if you admitted you love him?” I asked quietly, since we were putting everything on the table. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t push or try to interfere with fate, but I couldn’t help it.

  “I already admitted it.”

  “To him?”

  “I’m not going to marry him and he doesn’t want a life together without marriage. That’s why he moved out.”

  I couldn’t believe a five minute exchange of vows, of words, and a piece of paper were going to keep my friend from finding her happiness.

  “What if he marries someone else?” I asked, and could have kicked myself. I was treading a very thin line.

  “Did he bring her with him?” Bailey asked softly. And I realized that she knew. Somehow, in what I hadn’t said, in the way I’d spoken Jake’s name, maybe, when I’d told her he was coming, or maybe in the way I’d avoided looking at her...she knew.

  “No.”

  She nodded. “Even if he decides to get married, Kor, I can’t marry him.” She paused. “I’ve already told you why.”

  Danny and his friend Stuart were approaching, each with a glass of wine in one hand and a mug of beer in the other. I looked my husband in the eye and he made a quick switch, giving Stuart both mugs of beer while he took both glasses of wine. He set them on the end of our table and disappeared before I could send him a silent thank-you.

  I slid Bailey’s wine in front of her.

  She didn’t sip the wine as wine was meant to be sipped. But then, neither did I.

  “Bail, please take one more look at this,” I implored. “Would taking a chance on happiness really be such a terrible mistake? Just take a chance.” She was shaking her head and I said, “What can it hurt? If it doesn’t work out, you’re no worse off than if you let him up and marry someone else.”

  “Right now, Jake and I are fond of each other. In years to come, we can be good friends. But if we got married, we’d end up hating each other. I love him too much to do that to us.”

  “You talk like it’s a given that it’ll end badly. But there’s a chance it won’t. Like when we first found out Brian was sick. They told us he’d probably die before his twentieth birthday, but as soon as you knew there was even a chance that he wouldn’t, you believed he’d survive. And he has.”

  Brian was in his mid-thirties now, living on his own with a caregiver in Florida, and doing at home work for a computer company. His health was failing gradually. He was at risk every day of getting an infection that could kill him. But he still lived. And Bailey still adored him.

  “It is a given that it would end badly,” she said after another long drink of wine. She waved as the waitress made a rare appearance and motioned for two more glasses. We’d walked from our hotel to the bar. The only price we’d pay if we had a little too much would be hangovers and we’d lived through them before. “My relationship with Jake already failed,” Bailey said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it’s true. It’s why we broke up. It wasn’t working, Kor. Jake wants it all. The wife, the kids, the security in knowing he has a happily ever after. And I don’t believe in happily ever after. I tried. I pretended that Jake and I could be like you and Danny, but late at night, after Jake was asleep, I’d be there wide awake, knowing it was a lie. Because every single time he mentioned us as an old couple, as grandparents on our porch, every time he talked about the future, my responses were lies. I couldn’t see us that way. I can’t trust love, or fate, or whatever you want to call it, to take care of me if ten years from now Jake begins to feel middle-aged and has an affair, or if he loses his job and starts drinking, or...”

  I wanted to tell her that nothing in life was a guarantee. That the things she worried about weren’t really unusual. That every single married person in the world risked the problems and tragedies she described. But I took a sip of wine instead.

  Because I understood what she was saying. It wasn’t the affair or the lost job or the drinking that Bailey worried about. It went much deeper than that. And as much as I didn’t want to accept it—I knew the truth. Bailey had seen it long before I had. The truth that not everything in life could be fixed, not every problem could be solved, not every hurt could be healed.

  A truth I’d refused to see. Because I’d been so determined that I would fix things. That I could fix them.

  But we weren’t kids anymore. We’d grown up. And I had to face the fact that some things couldn’t be made better by a hug or money from my folks.

  Bailey was scarred. She’d lived through hell and survived. But deep in her soul she bore permanent markings of her past.

  * * *

  Bailey was drinking way too much, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t driving. And if she passed out in the street, she couldn’t honestly say she gave a damn at the moment.

  She wasn’t in Pittsburgh. Didn’t have to be conscious of representing the firm.

  And she was losing Jake all over again.

  It had been inevitable. She’d been prepared. Or so she’d thought.

  “You need to talk to Jake.” Kora, bless her heart, was trying so hard to help. But this time there wasn’t going to be a rainbow at the end of the storm. This time she was getting out of the rain before the storm killed her.

  Or...something. Taking another sip of wine, a sip that was admittedly a trifle sloppy, she felt like she was dying.

  “If he loves you as much as we think he does, he’ll understand and find a way to love your scars, too.”

  She wasn’t a burn victim. But the sentiment was...so Kora. So sweet.

  And misguided, unfortunately.

  “I can’t talk to him,” she said. “I already tried. The whole year we were seeing each other. And during the six months we lived together. He tried to live with me without any talk of marriage or the future or combining our finances. It didn’t work. We were starting to take our differences—our disappointment—out on each other. It’s just...”

  Hopeless.

  Kora didn’t finish the sentence for her. Bailey didn’t usually notice that they did that—finishing each other’s sentences. But she sure noticed when they didn’t.

  Her friend had stiffened and was looking toward the pool tables where Danny and Stuart had gone off to be guys.

  Bailey didn’t have to follow her gaze to know who was there. She told herself not to look, not to torture herself.

  But she did it anyway.

  Just as Jake looked over at her.

  He started toward them.

  “Don’t let him sit down,” she whispered urgently.”You have to talk to him, Bail. If you can’t be with him, that’s fine but you’re bound to see him sometimes. He and Danny are best friends.”

  With every word Koralynn spoke, the dark-haired temptation drew closer to them. To her.

  “Don’t leave me alone with him.” She amended her plea.

  “I’m here for as long as you ne
ed me,” Kora promised, and Bailey felt better. “Bailey.” That was all he said. Just her name. Not hello. Not even a cursory nod for Koralynn whom he hadn’t seen since...hell, she didn’t know. Maybe Jake had been over to see Danny that week. It wasn’t as though Koralynn would have rubbed salt in her wounds by telling her that. “Jake.” She’d done well. Sounded like she wasn’t falling apart at all. And didn’t slur, either, although she wouldn’t have minded that nearly as much as letting him believe she cared.

  “I think we need to talk.”

  She didn’t think so. And opened her mouth to say that, but Jake had taken her hand. “We’ll be at the hotel,” she heard him say, presumably to Kora. “I’ll make sure she gets safely to bed.”

  Oh...Bed. And Jake. Bailey was dizzy as she stood. He smelled good. His arm, as it slid around her, felt...right. Bailey stumbled and wanted one more sip of wine. Maybe Jake had some. Or wanted some, too. No one at Wesley knew her law firm. Or cared if she was a lawyer. Jake pulled her closer and she nuzzled against him; they walked out of the bar.

  Chapter Eleven

  I knew the second I saw Bailey the next morning that she wasn’t in good shape.

  With a quick word to my husband, I met her about two feet from the elevator.

  “Let’s go out to the car,” I said, taking her bag in one hand and her arm in the other. I marched her through the hotel lobby, where many of our group of friends were meeting to have breakfast before hitting the road.

  Bailey looked fine. She’d made it into the black jeans, boots and cream-colored sweater she’d packed. Was wearing makeup.

  She smiled and waved as someone called out to her. One of our sorority sisters, I thought. I was staring straight ahead, focused on getting us out of there without interruptions.

  That fake professional smile, accompanied by her slightly unfocused expression, had been with her as she exited the elevator.

  Depositing her bag in the trunk of the car, I climbed in beside her. And sat. I’d learned years ago that trying to force Bailey to talk only locked her more deeply inside herself.

  Five minutes of silence later, I was content just to be with her. Danny and the rest of them would be at breakfast. We had time.

  “You want to walk over to the library?” Bailey’s gaze was a little wild as she turned to me.

  “Sure.”

  The car door opened again. We climbed out and walked across the street to the Wesley campus. The sun was shining, and on a Sunday morning after Homecoming, only the hardiest students were up and about.

  I let Bailey lead the way through the tree-lined quad. This was her gig. I just tried to be prepared for whatever I might hear.

  And prayed it would be that she’d agreed to marry Jake. Or that he’d agreed to live with her forever, foregoing legalities for the time being.

  I was often wrong about things. I had many doubts. But I was completely certain that Jake and Bailey were meant for each other. In a perfect world.

  And since my world was pretty much perfect...

  “I slept with him.”

  “I assumed so.” It wasn’t like it was the first time. Or would be the last. No matter what either of them said. Jake had a way of getting to Bailey like no other guy ever had. She responded to him on an instinctive level. “It was...”

  “...I know.”

  She was looking at the ground, her hands in the pockets of her jeans, as we walked slowly along the sidewalk toward the library. I could see the college day care in the distance—a place for faculty children, for children of students, run largely by students in the field of child development. And couldn’t help thinking about Bailey and Jake’s children playing with mine and Danny’s.

  She seemed to be waiting for me to say something. I looped my arm through hers. “When are you going to see him again?”

  Maybe Jake would be driving her back to the city...

  But she’d let me put her bag in our car.

  The fact that she’d come downstairs alone could have been a clue, except that I knew Bailey. No way would she make such a public announcement to our college peers. Not yet. She’d need to be certain that whatever plans had been made during the night actually came to pass before she’d be announcing anything to anyone.

  Except for me.

  “I have no intention of seeing him again.”

  I stopped. Turned and stared at her. “Why not?”

  “He’s getting married.”

  Well...I swallowed. Bailey wasn’t crying. Or even holding back tears. I didn’t understand it.

  “So...last night...wasn’t good?” I’d said, I know when she’d paused. Because I’d been so sure that she’d felt satisfied—happy—about being with him. “It was wonderful.”

  Now I was really confused. “But...”

  “Nothing’s changed, Kor,” Bailey said. “Jake and I know we have a thing for each other. We also know that we aren’t good together on a daily basis.”

  “So—what, he gets married and the two of you meet now and then for a secret fling?”

  I was ashamed of how waspish I sounded. But I was disappointed. Really disappointed. For me, yeah. For the four of us, definitely. But mostly for Bailey. She deserved so much more than to be some man’s lay whenever they could arrange it. Even worse, some married man’s lay.

  I didn’t want her to settle for so much less than the real thing. “No.” Bailey finally put me out of that misery. “Of course not.” Her words were certain, but I suspected she’d at least entertained the idea. Because she didn’t sound certain.

  “I couldn’t do that to his wife, let alone to Jake or myself,” she said, her voice sad.

  The whole situation was sad beyond words.

  “But you did last night.” I didn’t know why I pointed that out.

  “And that’s what told me I couldn’t be that kind of woman,” she said. “As soon as we were through, I got up, showered and dressed...”

  “You never made it back to your room. I called. And knocked on your door before we came down.”

  “Jake and I were up most of the night talking. And I was probably in the shower when you knocked.”

  She’d headed us back toward the car. And I understood the desperation I’d read when she’d faced the lobby that morning. She hadn’t wanted to see Jake there.

  “What did you talk about?” I wanted so badly to find a hole in their logic, a way to make everything okay for the two of them.

  “His marriage plans, for one. They’re both going to be traveling quite a bit, mainly in the Northeast, and they were talking about moving to Boston, but I think they decided to stay in Pittsburgh, as a halfway point. They’ll see each other more often that way.”

  Jake’s intended was a director for a line of high-end makeup. Her area of responsibility included three states. And Jake, I knew from our dinner with him the previous week, had just accepted a promotion from the financial planning company where he worked. He’d be transferring to the PR department and traveling to colleges and conferences, speaking about the long-term benefits of financial planning. Jake was charming. Easy to talk to. And passionate about what he did. That made him a perfect fit for the job.

  “Jake’s really getting married?”

  He’d said so last week, but....

  “After last night, I’m sure of it.”

  He was putting an end to any chance to Bailey and him..

  And she accepted that.

  Why was Bailey’s life so destined for pain? She spent her entire life thinking of other people, helping other people. She was the most reliable, honest, trustworthy person I’d ever known.

  I used to believe in karma. I didn’t anymore.

  We’d reached the car and I climbed into the front seat, prepared to leave the second Danny returned. I couldn’t
bear to see Jake and Bailey together right now. I was on the verge of bawling like a baby for both of them.

  I thought about texting Danny and asking him to hurry, but I couldn’t do that to him. He had so little time with his football buddies, and I wasn’t going to rob him of a minute of his fun.

  “What else did you and Jake talk about?” I asked, watching out the window for anyone we knew, which would signify that breakfast was over. Really, if Bailey and Jake were fine, I shouldn’t be so upset.

  But Bailey wasn’t fine. She’d just gone underground, hiding herself, her pain, a little deeper.

  “You don’t want to know.” Bailey spoke dryly from the backseat. “Have you seen Mary Ephrain lately?” When that question immediately followed her response, I turned around.

  “I do want to know,” I said. She was well aware that Mary and her mother were doing fine. She’d just finalized paperwork from one of Mom’s charities to help Liza with school clothes for the kids.

  “We talked about artificial insemination.” Her look wasn’t quite challenging, but it was steady. Solid. And my heart sank.

  “You’ve made up your mind.” I didn’t ask. I didn’t need to.

  “I’d made up my mind the first time I mentioned it to you.”

  “You said you’d wait....”

  “I’m not rushing off to get pregnant, Kor, but after talking things over with Jake last night I’ve decided to go ahead and start looking for donors.”

  She wasn’t rushing off to get pregnant.

  I wanted to grasp at the small thread of hope she’d offered me that I still had time to help her see, somehow, that she was making choices that could trap her. Choices that could seal her aloneness. She was embarking on a course by herself, one that was meant to be shared.

  Single or married, of course, she’d be a great mother. I didn’t doubt that. Any child Bailey raised would be safe, secure and well loved. But it wasn’t the baby I was worried about.

  Each step you take that brings you closer to your goal makes it more likely that you’ll reach the goal.

  It was something Daddy had told us ad nauseam while we were growing up. He’d said it about college applications. About a dance competition we’d feared we wouldn’t qualify for. About changing the theme for our junior prom when it had been the same for the past ten years. About college essays and postgrad programs...