The Friendship Pact

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  This is a story for every woman who has a best friend...

  Bailey Watters and Koralynn Mitchell consider themselves “sisters of the soul.” Their circumstances growing up couldn’t have been more different; Kora came from a wealthy, privileged family, while Bailey’s home life was hard. They’d do anything for each other. “I’d give you a kidney,” they always say. There are no secrets between them—until there’s one secret Bailey can’t share.

  This is a story for every woman who’s been in love.

  Danny Brown is the only man Kora’s ever wanted, ever loved, and her marriage seems as flawless as everything else in her life. Bailey, however, doesn’t want a husband. She does want a baby—but only by IVF. And the perfect donor, the perfect biological father, would be a man like...Danny.

  What happens when love and friendship collide?

  Kora might be willing to give Bailey a kidney. But what about a baby?

  THE

  FRIENDSHIP

  PACT

  Tara Taylor Quinn

  Dear Reader,

  I’ve written a lot of books. From thriller/suspense to romance, I’ve given you many kinds of stories. This one isn’t like any of them. It’s a story of heart. Of soul-searching. Of tough questions with no easy answers. It’s a story of relationships. Of friendship. It’s the story of two very different women who, as children, make a pact to travel life’s journey together.

  I had a friend just like Koralynn has Bailey. Or Bailey has Koralynn. Like them, we met when we were just starting school. We were connected, Siamese twins of the soul, from the very beginning. Whenever I was with “J” my whole world lit up like Disneyland. I’ve never understood why she brought such magic to my life, but throughout our growing up and into adulthood, she was more special than anyone else. I can remember sitting on a dirt road with her when we were about fifteen talking about our futures. I was going to write for Harlequin. She wanted to go into the medical field. We were going to attend the University of Michigan together. Room together. We were going to be godmothers to each other’s babies. And be old ladies together.

  We didn’t make it to college together; the reality of out-of-state tuition got in the way. But she studied nuclear medicine. And I write for Harlequin. She stood beside me for the christening of my daughter, becoming an official godmother, and I did the same for her. We ended up at different ends of the country, but her presence in the world was a star in my heart, giving me strength beyond anything I would’ve had alone. I could do whatever I had to because I knew “J” was there to pick up any pieces; I knew she could always put them back together.

  Until life handed us something tragically unexpected. My “J” was killed in a car accident fourteen years ago this summer. But she was right here with me, speaking through my heart, a voice in my head, as Koralynn and Bailey came to life. And as this book comes to you, my goddaughter is bringing her firstborn, a daughter, MJ (the “J” is for her mother), into the world, a reminder that love—connection—never ends....

  I’m delighted to hear from readers. You can reach me at www.tarataylorquinn.com. And I’d love to hear your stories of friendship!

  Tara

  Books by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Harlequin Superromance

  1309—The Promise of Christmas

  1350—A Child’s Wish

  1381—Merry Christmas, Babies

  1428—Sara’s Son

  1446—The Baby Gamble

  1465—The Valentine Gift

  “Valentine’s Daughters”

  1500—Trusting Ryan

  1527—The Holiday Visitor

  1550—Sophie’s Secret

  1584—A Daughter’s Trust

  1656—The First Wife

  1726—Full Contact

  1793—A Son’s Tale^

  1811—A Daughter’s Story^

  1829—The Truth About Comfort Cove^

  1853—It’s Never Too Late

  1877—Second Time’s the Charm

  1889—The Moment of Truth

  Single Title

  Sheltered in His Arms

  Everlasting Love

  The Night We Met

  Harlequin MIRA

  Where the Road Ends

  Street Smart

  Hidden

  In Plain Sight

  Behind Closed Doors

  At Close Range

  The Second Lie

  The Third Secret

  The Fourth Victim

  *Shelter Valley Stories

  #Chapman Files

  ^It Happened in Comfort Cove

  Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

  Dedication

  To Jeanine Lynn Hall Clayton, you are my wind and my stars. To Buzz and Tanya Gonzales, congratulations on that new little spirit who will fill up your hearts with more love than you can imagine. And to Megan Jeanine Gonzales, welcome, little one. I know your grandma sends you to us!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  May 1997

  “You asleep?”

  “No, are you?” I guess the question was kinda dumb, but Bailey and I...we had our own code. It meant she needed to talk, and I was ready to listen.

  “Uh-uh.”

  When she didn’t say anything else, I started in. “It’s going to be okay, you know.” Her mom, who was drunk a lot, was getting another divorce, but Bailey would be fine this time. Neither of us liked Stan, her stepfather.

  And my mom and dad would make sure Bailey was okay. Just like always.

  Too bad they weren’t Bailey’s parents, too.

  My one dark spot in life.

  “No, it’s not, Koralynn. It’s not going to be okay.” Bailey’s voice sounded stern, even in a whisper. Not like she was going to cry. That I could deal with. It sounded more like...foreboding. I’d just read that word and now I understood exactly what it meant.

  “You said that when you found out Brian had cystic fibrosis,” I reminded her in a calming whisper. Bailey adored her older brother. Her only biological sibling. I did, too. Brian was cool. And doing pretty well now that they knew what was wrong with him.

  She flipped over on her back next to me in my queen-size bed, holding down the covers
on both sides of her so the cold gusts of air didn’t get in. “He’s never going to have a normal life,” she whispered back. “Or have kids, either.”

  “He’s alive.” At first they’d thought he wasn’t going to make it. “You said it wasn’t ever going to be okay again when your mom and dad got divorced, too.” Five years ago. We’d been ten at the time.

  “And I was right.”

  “You survived.” And we’d had a lot of great times since then.

  “Yeah, and my dad lives in Florida and I hardly ever see him.”

  I wasn’t doing so hot here. So I tried again.

  “Your life is harder than mine, Bail. Your mom, with her drinking... It’s not fair and sometimes I feel so guilty....”

  “Why? It’s not your fault.”

  “I know, but look at me.... My folks are the greatest. We have a nice house and...” Wait, I was supposed to be making my best friend in the whole world feel better, not worse.

  “It’s just...I don’t know why I get all the luck,” I told her. “You deserve it way more than I do.” All our lives it had been like that. And it wasn’t fair.

  “It’s how life is, Kor. Different things happen to different people and we don’t know why. I mean, look at Brian. Cystic Fibrosis is a genetic disease, and both our parents were carriers so either of us could’ve gotten it. I didn’t. He did. Go figure.”

  I shuddered, remembering those weeks when Brian had been so sick and they’d found out what was wrong and Bailey had to go through testing, too. We didn’t know if she was going to turn out to be sick and maybe die, and I could hardly stand it while we waited for the news. Bailey’s mom and dad were already not getting along, her mom was drunk all the time, it seemed, and they’d just found out about Brian. So no one really had time for Bailey. That was when Bailey had first started staying with us—more than for just a sleepover—and that night before we got the test results, Mom stayed up with us, sitting on my bed, one arm around each of us.

  “Your folks were great, weren’t they?”

  They’d promised Bailey they’d make sure that if she was sick, she’d get the best care available. They’d promised her they’d be there with her, every step of the way.

  Mom was a stay-at-home mother, so she was always there—and Daddy, who worked in top management at a software firm, made enough to take care of one more if he had to. Besides, there was the money he’d inherited from his own father.

  Bailey was fine, thank God. And now she had three drawers in my dresser and a lot of her clothes officially hung with mine in the big walk-in closet that used to hold shelves for all my toys.

  We’d carted those up to the attic for my babies—when I was married and everything—to play with someday.

  “I can’t believe my mom did this,” Bailey said now. “I mean I get why. Stan’s a jerk and she should’ve left him a long time ago, but for her to go and have an affair...”

  I couldn’t believe that part, either. Not even with Bailey’s mom. Why make Stan madder? He’d found out a couple of days before and now Bailey’s mom had a black eye she wouldn’t go to the cops about and Stan was threatening to leave her high and dry with no alimony or furniture or car or anything.

  “Stan seemed so nice in the beginning,” I said, shivering a little as I pictured the bearded man who scared the shit out of me.

  “He’s fine until he starts drinking.”

  “It sucks that he hid the whole recovering alcoholic thing until after they were married.” At least Bailey’s mom had been upfront about her own relationship with the bottle.

  “And the hitting thing, too.” Bailey’s whisper changed.

  Sitting up in bed, I stared down at my friend, my sister, the other half of my soul. “He didn’t hit you, did he?” I asked, ready to hit back. Funny, most times Bailey was the stronger one of us—the one who fought our battles. My job was to tend our wounds.

  Or go to my parents to do it for us.

  “No,” Bailey said. But she turned her head toward the wall and I was mad and scared all at once.

  “Bail?”

  I thought I saw a tear slide down the side of her face into the pillow. Leaning over her, I pushed her dark hair away from her eyes and said, “Bailey, tell me what he did to you.”

  “It was nothing.”

  My heart was pounding. “Bailey, tell me.” And then I was going straight to Mom. She’d know what to do. Where to go for help, even if Bailey’s mom wouldn’t call the cops.

  “He...tried to kiss me.”

  I could hardly breathe. I was freezing and frightened and... “Tried?”

  “He was drunk and I kneed him in the you-know-where and ran.”

  “When was this?” And why hadn’t she told me?

  “This afternoon.”

  Oh, God. And I’d been thinking her dark mood all night was because her mother had been caught having an affair with her boss—a partner in the law firm where she worked as a paralegal—and was getting a divorce as a result. We didn’t know if she was also going to lose her job.

  “You were only home for a few minutes,” I said now, trying to wrap my mind around a world that had just completely changed.

  “He came into my room when I was getting the red dress from my closet,” Bailey said. I’d been running errands with my mom after school and we were picking Bailey up to spend the weekend with us on our way home. My folks were taking us to a dinner theater in Pittsburgh the next night to celebrate the end of the school year. Bailey and I had both made the honor roll; I had straight As and she had all As and one B.

  And we’d decided to wear the red dresses Mom had bought us for a Christmas dinner show we’d gone to last winter.

  None of that mattered now. But it was what I wanted to think about.

  She sniffed and I rubbed her shoulder. “Tell me everything,” I said. We stuck together. No matter what.

  Bailey sniffled again. I swallowed, trying to hold everything in for her sake, but then I started to cry, too.

  “The dress was on the top bar...” Her words were kind of hard to understand, all clogged up with tears, and still in a whisper. But she wasn’t sobbing. I almost wished she was. Sobbing came and went. These tears, they seemed like they could just keep coming and never stop.

  I’d never seen Bailey like this before. Should I go get Mom now?

  “I reached up for it....”

  I could picture her there, inside the opened closet door—a single, pressboard thing, not like the solid wood double doors on my closet—her arm raised.

  “I didn’t hear him come in....”

  I rubbed her shoulder some more. I wanted to cover my ears like I’d done as a kid when Mom was telling me my grandmother had died. If I didn’t hear, I didn’t have to know and it wouldn’t be real.

  “He came up behind me....”

  I couldn’t stand the pain I heard in her voice. “It’s okay, Bail. It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. I had a feeling things weren’t ever going to be okay again, just like she’d said.

  “He grabbed my breast....” She began to sob then, and I reached down for her, pulling her into my lap. I cradled her, rocking back and forth, whispering to her.

  Neither of us had ever been touched sexually before.

  We’d talked about what our first times would be like. A lot, lately. She’d heard it might hurt and asked me what I thought. So I asked Mom and she’d said it often does hurt the first time, but not always. And that it also could feel incredibly good if the man and woman were in love and took care with each other.

  Bailey and I had talked about that a lot, too. About what “took care with each other” meant.

  We hadn’t reached a conclusion yet, but one thing I knew for sure—the moments she was describing had nothing to do with “taking care.”

 
“I’m here,” I said, running my fingers through her long dark hair, hating a world that would allow such a horrible thing to happen to such a sweet, beautiful girl. “I’m here.”

  We were a pair. What happened to her happened to me. We’d made that promise when we were kids, when we’d still been young enough to believe the world was fair and good.

  I listened to her tell me how her drunk stepfather had groped her, shoving a hand inside the waistband of her jeans and down, slobbering all over her neck while he fingered her, before he’d turned her around to kiss her fully and she’d jabbed her knee into his dick and run.

  He was a dick. And he was going to pay.

  * * *

  “No. No. Can’t do it,” Papa Bill stood in the Mitchells’ fancy tiled foyer as Bailey and Koralynn came downstairs together just before five on Saturday evening.

  “Can’t do what, Bill?” Mama Di, Koralynn’s mom, sleek and slim and gorgeously blonde, her spiked heels clicking on the tile, walked up behind him. With him in his black tux and her in the body-hugging red silk dress, they looked like Bailey’s perception of Hollywood and they were her welcoming committee. Hers and Koralynn’s.

  “I can’t possibly take these two out in public with us,” he said, his face serious. Koralynn paused. Papa Bill’s eyes had that look in them like they got when he was teasing.

  Bailey stopped for a second before continuing her princess descent, her high heels sinking into the plush carpet on the stairs. After crying half the night and arguing the other half, she’d finally gotten Koralynn to promise not to say anything about what her stepfather had done the day before. But Koralynn had agreed, only because she knew it would be his word against Bailey’s and that Bailey would be dragged through humiliating shit for probably nothing, and because Bailey’s mom was leaving the jerk, anyway, so Bailey wouldn’t have to deal with him after this.

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Koralynn was right beside her again, lacing her arm through Bailey’s, like she’d carry the world for both of them. And smiling down at her father.

  Koralynn had said they weren’t going to let Stan ruin this night. But it was too late. Koralynn was still Koralynn, all pure and innocent and wondering about the mysteries of life. Bailey wasn’t. Not anymore.