The Friendship Pact

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  I felt tears prick my eyes. She was so sweet. And so beautiful. And the right guy would be there—the one who’d have the right salve for her wounds.

  “Are you telling me you want me to stop trying to change your mind and just support your decision?”

  She stared straight at me and I could feel her pain as if it were my own. In an odd way, that comforted me. We were still...us.

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice thick. “I guess I am.”

  I nodded. “Done,” I said. And didn’t look away.

  “You mean it?”

  “I won’t lie to you, Bail. I can’t tell you I’m happy about this, because I’m not. I won’t tell you I think it’s a good decision. But if you’re going to do it, I’m going to be there for you. I’d give you a kidney,” I told her as the tears won my battle with them.

  “I’d give you a kidney.” For a second there, I thought she was going to cry, too.

  “You still want to go in and look at clothes?” she asked me.

  “The girl in there has been giving us weird looks.”

  “Then let’s go in and show her what weird really looks like.” I laughed as she looped her arm through mine, and while a part of me was grief stricken, another part could feel Bailey coming back to me.

  “Have you found a donor yet?” I had to ask. Had to know.

  “No.”

  “But when you do, it’s going to happen right away, isn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  I just had to pray that her interviews continued to bomb. “You’ll let me know?”

  “Of course. You ready to go buy some clothes?”

  The last thing I wanted to do was go in and look at maternity outfits. But I did.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bailey wasn’t desperate. But she was driven. On the third Friday in April, when the clinic had been unable to come up with any more potential donors who were willing to be interviewed and also tested negative for the cystic fibrosis gene, she called Danny.

  She’d expected some heavy emotional conversation during which they’d weigh consequences and discuss ramifications. Instead, she was shocked to find out that he’d already been tested and was not a carrier of cystic fibrosis. He’d left a donation for her at the clinic as soon as he’d found out. Weeks ago.

  It was there for her if she chose to use it. If not, he’d have it destroyed.

  Thanking him, undecided yet about what she was going to do, she went home and drank herself into a stupor.

  The next morning, with the headache she deserved, she drove out to the country, to a state park her father had taken her to, back before they found out Brian was sick and everything went crazy. She walked for hours among the flourishing greenery, feeling spring in the air, and gave herself a long hard look.

  She was certain of two things.

  She needed to have her baby on her own.

  And she couldn’t settle for a donor who might not come from a healthy genetic background or a strongly moral family. She’d suffered too much at the hands of substance abuse. There were never any guarantees, of course. But because she had this chance, this choice, she felt she owed it to her child to do everything she could to make sure he or she had the best genetic prospects.

  Jake, whom she trusted more than anyone on earth, other than Kora, knew this was the right choice for her.

  So now, she needed a baby daddy.

  It couldn’t be Jake. Not with their history. Nor would she tempt fate by having his baby. She’d feel his child growing inside her and want to call him and he’d answer. At some point they’d end up in bed together.

  She thought about the men in her office. About a client she’d had, a man who’d needed to get away from an untrustworthy wife but had still wanted to provide fairly for her. About judges and attorneys she knew, a neighbor she’d met the month before. About anyone who’d known Brian in Florida or gone to college with her.

  There wasn’t a single person she knew whom she could ask.

  Except one.

  Jake trusted Danny with his life. Kora trusted Danny with her life.

  I’d give you a kidney.

  Promise me that if you ever need anything, you’ll come to me. Promise me you’ll ask me for it....

  I’d give you both kidneys.

  Kora’s words to her, repeated many times over the years, sounded so clearly in Bailey’s mind that she stopped walking and looked around her.

  She couldn’t ask Kora. Not now. Kora’s greatest hope was that she couldn’t find a donor. But what about later? When Kora came around to seeing that being a single parent was the best thing for Bailey? When the baby was born and she loved him or her and was glad that Bailey had had the strength to go against Kora’s instincts and do this on her own? Then Kora would start to worry about that Y component. They’d spent so many hours talking about how they needed to be more responsible to their own children than Bailey’s parents had been to her.

  They weren’t just going to date hot men. They were going to date men who would be good choices as fathers.

  Danny had offered.

  It was crazy.

  Kind of twisted, really.

  Danny and Kora and their children would be Bailey’s family for real. Forever. Bound by a genetic link.

  Danny had offered. Still, it was too weird.

  No chance she’d ever develop an inappropriate attachment to Danny. That was the whole point of being a single parent. Because she absolutely did not want an attachment to her baby’s father. Wasn’t emotionally equipped to handle one.

  And that was exactly why Jake wouldn’t work.

  And she’d never been attracted to Danny Brown; physically, he’d always left her cold. Yeah, he was good looking. But that blond hair with those blue eyes—a little too...not rugged for her.

  As she and Kora repeatedly said and as Brian’s death had proven, life held no guarantees. It moved on, with or without you.

  It was moving on without her.

  Bailey walked for hours. Walked until her feet were blistered and bleeding inside her tennis shoes. She got lost and didn’t care.

  Danny said that when Kora came around, she’d be glad to know they’d made the choice they had—with him as her donor. He was so sure, he was willing to risk his marriage on it. He’d offered to do this to save his marriage.

  Darkness fell, and she didn’t stop walking.

  Sometime around midnight, she found her car, locked herself inside and fell asleep.

  On Sunday morning, when she woke, cramped and sticky and completely refreshed, she knew what she was going to do.

  * * *

  I drove. Bailey was preoccupied and nervous, and I just wanted to drive. To have that little bit of control.

  I smiled when she came out to the car.

  “Ready, Mama?” I asked her in a cheery voice. We both knew I wasn’t feeling cheerful. Inside I was crying. I couldn’t tell whether Bailey knew that or not.

  She rested her hand on mine as I put the car in gear. “I’m completely sure I’m doing the right thing, Kor.”

  “Then why aren’t you looking me in the eye?”

  She still didn’t. Even when I called her on it.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said.

  “Yes, I do.”

  She’d told me on Monday that she’d found a donor. And here we were on Tuesday, going to get her pregnant. I hadn’t had much time to prepare. I didn’t include all the months I’d known this was coming. Those had been, for all intents and purposes, wiped out by my desperate hope that this day wouldn’t come.

  Still...if it was what she believed she wanted...

  “I want you to come into the room with me,” she said now. “It’s important to me for you to be th
ere.”

  She was jittery, her hands playing with the magnetic closure on her purse. Open and close. Open and close.

  “Of course I will,” I said, honored and truly happy that I still meant that much to her.

  Open and close. She stared out the window. Shifted in her seat. When I saw her wipe away a tear, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

  I pulled over. “Bailey. Something’s not right here.” I couldn’t tell her again not to do it. I couldn’t talk her out of it; she’d asked me not to. She’d reached the point where she just needed my acceptance. She’d told me so, that evening outside the maternity clothing store.

  Her eyes were wide and scared-looking when she turned to me. So unlike Bailey.

  “I know what I’m doing is right,” she repeated. I heard the conviction in her voice. And I sensed that she really felt certain. “But...I...feel horrible that-—Well, there are things you don’t know and I want you to know and—”

  “I chose to distance myself.” I had to be honest with her, too. “Because I don’t think this is right for you. I can’t lie and tell you I feel good about it. I don’t. But maybe I’m too close to all of this to see the truth. Maybe, as you said, when we get through it and have our babies, I’ll see that you were right all along.”

  She nodded. But didn’t look any less upset.

  “Listen, Bail, if you’d rather I didn’t go with you, I understand. But I want you to know that while I can’t lie and tell you I agree with your choice, I will support you all the way. I’ll try to be happy for you.”

  “I...you told me once that anything you had, I had only to ask...”

  “I remember. The night your mom died. We made a few promises that night, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I still mean them all, Bail. I’d give you a kidney.”

  She seemed to find the peace she’d been seeking. “I’d give you two,” she whispered in my ear, then threw her arms around me in a rare Bailey hug.

  And off we went to make her baby.

  * * *

  Morning sickness was supposed to come after the baby was conceived. Bailey had felt sick the entire twenty-four hours before she authorized the clinic to use Danny’s sperm to impregnate her.

  She’d called him one more time. Monday morning, before she’d called Kora. The conversation had been brief.

  “If you’re absolutely certain you want to do this...” she’d started.

  “I am,” he’d interrupted.

  “Okay. I accept.”

  “Fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m doing it for Kora.”

  “I know. I’m just scared to death she’s going to hate us. I feel like we’re lying to her.”

  “Ever since you told her about wanting this baby she’s been trying to save you from yourself, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think what we’re doing here is saving her from herself. She can’t give you this right now. But in the future she’d regret not having done so.”

  That conversation had been twenty-four hours earlier, and Bailey hadn’t spoken to him since. She figured Kora had told him where they were going, though.

  The fertility counselor had explained to her how some men could disassociate themselves from their sperm. Danny must be one of them.

  She was grateful to him. Moved by his choice.

  She just didn’t like keeping that choice from Kora.

  * * *

  I’d never been so glad to see a school year come to an end. I know I remembered to tell my kids to have a safe summer, but I was ready for them to leave that last week in May. I’d been waiting all my life to be pregnant and I wanted to revel in it. I’d just finished locking up the last cabinet when I heard the door open. The sound brought a flashback to the previous year, when Mary Ephrain had stayed after class.

  Her mom Liza had been promoted to assistant sales manager at the department store where she was working, and Mary and her siblings were all doing well in school.

  “You ready?” Dressed in brown pants and a soft beige long-sleeved blouse that tapered at the waist, Bailey came up the aisle between two rows of desks.

  “Yep.” Our traditional end-of-the-year glass of wine was out, but we were still celebrating.

  “How’d the ultrasound go?” she asked even before I’d locked my classroom door.

  Danny and I had had our first ultrasound the evening before. We’d decided we didn’t want to know the sex of our child until he or she was born, so we didn’t watch the ultrasound as it was happening—just in case something was obvious. “Good,” I told her. “Apparently they couldn’t tell whether the baby’s a boy or a girl, so we watched the video they sent home with us last night.” Bailey had been at a bi-monthly dinner she attended for lawyers and judges who volunteered time with law students. “I brought it with me to show you after dinner.” I figured we’d go back to her place later. Danny was having the guys over for cards and beer while I was out with Bailey. In deference to my pregnancy, he wasn’t drinking at all when we were together.

  “You want to follow me?” I asked as we headed out toward the parking lot.

  “What about dinner at my place?” Bailey’s tone was a bit strained. I put it down to the whole ultrasound thing. I’d even debated letting her know I had a copy for her to watch. And I’d been looking forward to no cooking or dishes but if that was what she wanted...

  “Fine with me .”

  “I...actually made a casserole,” she said. “And a salad.” Bailey didn’t cook much. Not because she couldn’t. She just didn’t.

  I gave her a curious look, but when she merely smiled, I knew she wasn’t going to say any more at the moment.

  Half an hour later, sitting at her table, already set with placemats and linen napkins, watching as she brought out the salad, took the casserole from the oven and put a loaf of warmed French bread in a basket, I teared up.

  What a nuisance that part of my pregnancy was turning out to be. My tear ducts and my emotions had become inseparably connected.

  She’d gone to so much trouble. A domesticated Bailey wasn’t something I was used to seeing. I liked her, though. When she pulled out the sparkling cider and two champagne glasses, I tensed. But was filled with anticipation, too.

  “Humor me, here,” she said, looking like Susie Homemaker as she hurried around the kitchen gathering the condiments for our meal.

  I wasn’t saying a word. I wasn’t sure I could. My brain seemed to stall, I knew what was coming, but wasn’t ready to respond to it. My stomach was in knots.

  I loved her so much. And missed her so much. I’d do anything to get rid of the distance between us.

  She turned away from me to the casserole dish on the counter.

  “It took, didn’t it?” I didn’t mean to steal her thunder, but I couldn’t just sit there blankly, either. “Yep.”

  “Really?” I’d suspected, but...

  “Yep.” Her back was still to me as she used a pad to lift the hot lid and slid a serving spoon into the casserole dish. I smelled broccoli. And chicken.

  “So...are you okay?”

  Bailey turned then and I hardly recognized her for the glow on her face. “Yep,” she said.

  That was it. No happy dance. No hoopla. Just the most serene and joyous peace I’d ever witnessed.

  * * *

  That summer was the best Bailey had ever had. Hands down. She worked less, but got more done, managing as many cases as ever. She and Kora were back to the way things used to be, like they were teenagers again. They worked together on their nurseries, laughing and carrying on. Kora chose soft yellow and greens, with giraffe borders. Bailey did hers in primary-colored rainbows. Everywhere they went, they were on the lookout for anything in pastel greens and
yellows and for primary-colored rainbows.

  One Saturday in early June, Danny and Kora and Bailey had stopped at a well-known diner off the highway, on their way to a weekend gathering in the mountains with friends from college, and while they were waiting to be seated, Danny called them over to a section of the little shop in the lobby.

  “Do you believe that?” Looking like a little kid who was proud of himself, he pointed to a corner display. Among pinks and blues and various items for small children was a green-and-yellow cloth book with animals, including a giraffe, on the front. And off to the side, a display of light switch covers in various designs, including one with a rainbow in primary colors.

  “We have to get them!” Kora exclaimed, grabbing them both and heading with Danny toward the checkout. She was wearing a short-sleeved denim maternity dress, but was hardly showing.

  Bailey’s heart flip-flopped as she followed more slowly behind them. Danny had been on the lookout for her, too.

  * * *

  I had never been happier in my life. Bailey’s choice to go through this miraculous time without a partner still made me sad, but then, her home life had always saddened me.

  I was beginning to accept that my version of happily ever after wasn’t something that everyone was meant to experience. But in my heart of hearts, I knew Bailey was. I knew that, deep down, having a traditional family was what she truly wanted.

  Still, our lives were as perfect as they could be, living as we were in an imperfect world.

  The Saturday after our weekend in the mountains, I woke up feeling nauseous. And even that was perfect. I was pregnant! Only three and a half months, but I couldn’t wait to get huge. I wondered, every day when I woke up, if that would be the day I felt the baby move.

  Bailey and I were going to the same OB and she’d described those first movements as little flutters. Danny said I was going to be so busy fluttering with nerves I wouldn’t even know if it was the baby!

  “You okay?”

  I saw the tip of Danny’s sandal as I leaned over the toilet after a more violent than usual bout of retching. A wet washcloth touched my hand on the seat and I took it, holding it to my face. “Yeah,” I groaned as I half lay there. Usually I felt great after throwing up. That morning I didn’t.