A/N: Thanks to the always wonderful KarenES for her stellar beta skills and suggestions. Any little errors I may have edited in while making adjustments are all on me :) Since the length of these got a little out of hand, this chapter covers the first three times. One more part to come with four and five.
Five Times Deacon Became a Dad
1.
The First Time - The Birth of a Lie (And a Truth)
The first time Deacon became a dad he wasn't there.
He wasn't there to hold Rayna's hand or feed her ice from a cup.
He wasn't there to brush away the damp strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead or whisper words of encouragement in her ear.
He wasn't there to watch his daughter finally come into the world; a head full of light brown hair, perfect little button nose and wide hazel eyes.
He wasn't there to cradle her feather-light body in his arms or take a million pictures, each one only slightly different from the last
He didn't get to walk down the hall of the hospital to the waiting room and deliver the news to excited family members and friends, or smoke an expensive cigar.
Instead, on the day Maddie was born, Deacon stood up at an AA meeting in the basement of a church in East Nashville and told the story of how his struggle with addiction caused him to lose the only woman he ever loved. How he had thrown away what would have been a lifetime of happiness for the bottom of a bottle of Jack and the only briefly satisfying high that a handful of round white pills could give him.
How he slowly became a person he hated; a violent drunken mess full of broken promises. Someone who he felt didn't deserve anyone's love - not hers, and definitely not his own.
He told about how he had finally driven away the only person on this earth who truly understood him - emotionally, physically, creatively. The only person who loved him unconditionally. The person who, every time he had made an attempt at recovery, truly believed he would get better and always had faith in him, no matter how hopeless it seemed.
He described how, the night before he had gone into rehab the last time, she had clung to him and sobbed like they'd never see each other again, saying she couldn't stand by any longer and watch him kill himself because she just loved him too much.
How all of that had brought him to where he stood right then, having lost that woman forever with nobody to blame but himself. How she had married another man and was having that man's child, right at that very moment.
Little did he know at the time that only half of that last part was actually true.
Months earlier, when Deacon was finally ready to leave the program at Riverside, he had become painfully aware that keeping his distance from Rayna was crucial to him staying sober, no matter how much he ached for her. He knew seeing her pregnant with a wedding ring on her finger was something he just couldn't handle, so he had taken good measure to make sure he avoided running into her.
After spending some time with his sister and little niece back in his hometown in Mississippi, Deacon retreated to his cabin where he spent most of his days fishing, writing music and sitting by the lake. It was an uneventful, solitary existence. While he felt it was just what he needed at the time, after a few months, he began to grow restless.
Deacon also knew he was going to need to put in some work back home to stay afloat financially. He put some feelers out and was pleasantly surprised at the enthusiastic response he received, especially given his lack of dependability over the previous few years. Cold feet made him turn down the first few offers, but he finally decided to bite the bullet. Nine months sober and seven months after he had left Nashville, Deacon accepted a job as a session guitarist for a new artist and committed to returning to town for a couple of days.
He figured if he kept a low profile and only left his house to go to the recording sessions and the AA meetings he planned on attending a good forty-five minutes outside of the city limits, the odds of seeing Rayna were slim to none. According to Coleman, she was laying low with the baby coming. Deacon's intention was to put in his few days of work and be back at his cabin by the weekend, back to the safe place where he didn't run the risk of having to face everything he had lost.
Unfortunately though, with a flip of the radio dial, that plan had been blown to hell.
Nashville was a small town, especially as far as its big country music stars were concerned, so when Rayna checked into Vanderbilt University Medical Center late the night before, word traveled fast.
Deacon was in his kitchen eating breakfast and listening to Watty White's morning show, the final chords of a John Conlee song fading into the background, when Watty's gravelly voice came streaming through his stereo speakers.
"Rumor has it that we're about to add a member to the country music family. Congrats and best wishes to the one and only, Rayna Jaymes."
Deacon immediately put the toast he was eating down on his plate with a shaky hand, an icy sensation spreading from his head all the way down to the tips of his toes as a Garth Brooks song began to play. At least Watty had enough sense not to play one of our old love songs, Deacon thought bitterly, as he got up and switched off the radio.
Unsure what to do with himself, Deacon paced the house restlessly. He picked up the latest issue of Guitar Player that was sitting on the coffee table unread, but focusing on superficial crap like the features of the newest Fender model seemed like a joke. He tossed it back down almost immediately and grabbed the acoustic guitar propped up against the couch. He strummed only a few chords before stopping and impulsively throwing it at the wall.
He was crawling out of his skin with anger, with jealousy, with regret, with feelings that were so intense he didn't know what to do with them other than grab that familiar bottle of whiskey and put it to his lips.
He couldn't, though. Not this time.
Even though the possibility of getting Rayna back one day seemed wildly unrealistic at the moment, something deep in his gut wouldn't allow him to give up on it. If he was going to prove to her that he was a changed man, things needed to be different this go-round.
Just as Deacon began to consider picking up the phone and dialing Coleman's number, he heard a sharp knock at his door. He ran his right hand roughly over his beard, debating whether he should open it or just pretend he wasn't home.
Deacon wasn't sure if he felt up to facing anyone right now, but at the same time, he knew enough not to trust himself to be alone. As much as he wanted to wallow in his pain and avoid the outside world, having someone else around was a barrier between him and anything stupid he might do.
Before he could change his mind, Deacon stood and quickly walked to the front door, pulling it open to find his sponsor standing on the porch, holding a tray with two cups of takeout coffee.
"Thought you might like some company," Coleman said with a sympathetic smile, extending one of the cups to Deacon, who accepted it and opened the door just wide enough for him to pass through.
"You don't have to babysit me," Deacon muttered, his pride momentarily taking over as he shoved the door shut and turned to follow Coleman into the living room.
The two men sat for a few minutes, silently sipping their coffee, the elephant in the room growing larger by the minute. When Deacon finally spoke, his voice was barely audible.
"She have the baby yet?" he asked, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his blue plaid button down. It was a question he wasn't even sure he wanted the answer to, but for some reason felt compelled to ask.
Coleman shook his head no, hesitating a moment, as he debated how much detail he should share. "Not yet," he responded slowly, "but could be any time now, the last I heard from Tandy."
Deacon could only nod, his eyes fixed on the floor.
"You know," Coleman said, leaning back against the weathered leather of the armchair he was sitting in, "it might help to go to a meeting. Talk about all this."
Deacon took another sip of coffee and contemplated Coleman's suggestion.
Previously he would have scoffed at the idea. Even at rehab when he was forced to share his most personal experiences and feelings, he hated every second of it. The idea of being vulnerable and putting it all out there was something that made him highly uncomfortable. He hated reliving all the regret and embarrassment, but most of all, owning up to the fact that he was the one fully responsible for the pain he not only found himself in, but that he had caused others who were so important to him.
Today though, it seemed like the only thing that might help.
"Maybe you're right," Deacon finally responded. If he was going to take his recovery seriously and make it a permanent thing, he might as well get used to holding himself accountable.
Coleman, caught off-guard by Deacon's agreeability, raised his arm to look at the watch on his wrist. "If we leave now we could probably make the eleven o'clock," he said.
Minutes later, they hopped into Coleman's sedan, and as they rode over to the church where the mid-morning meeting was being held, Deacon still wasn't sure he'd have the nerve to get up there.
Somehow, when the time came, he felt an eerie calm. He rose from the metal folding chair and slowly walked to the front of the room, looking back only once to glance at Coleman, who gave him a nod of encouragement.
And as Rayna gripped Teddy's hand and with a final push brought Maddie into this world, Deacon nervously cleared his throat and looked out into the group of people sitting before him.
He began to speak, his voice louder and clearer than it had been in months.
"Hi. My name is Deacon and I'm an alcoholic."
2.
Second Time - Every Moment of the Last Thirteen Years
"So she's mine?"
"Yeah," Rayna whispered, nodding her head ever so slightly.
Deacon slowly exhaled and took in the weight of what that simple confirmation meant.
He looked into Rayna's panic-stricken eyes, the eyes of the woman he had spent the last two decades loving and trusting implicitly, his own eyes blurred by the tears building up in them.
Needing desperately to get out, he quickly turned on his heel and pulled open the dressing room door with a violent yank. The faint sound of Rayna shakily calling his name rang in his ears as he shoved his way through the crowds of people lining the hall backstage.
Deacon found his car in the crowded parking lot -not a tough feat as it stood out among the stretch limos and fancy town cars. He fumbled for the keys shoved deep in his pocket, finding it hard to grasp anything the way his hands were shaking, the tightness in his chest feeling like it could suffocate him at any moment.
Deacon felt a wave of dizziness pass over him and he momentarily gave up digging for his keys so he could put his hand on the hood of his SUV in an attempt to steady himself, immediately beginning the familiar internal reminders he always repeated in his head when he felt himself slipping.
Deacon, get in the car and drive to a meeting.
Pick up the phone and call Coleman.
Deacon stopped dead in his tracks at the thought of Coleman.
This was a man who had always been almost as invested in Deacon's sobriety as he himself was. All these years, he wasn't only a sponsor, but the one constant in Deacon's life beside Rayna; someone whose loyalty Deacon had never dreamed of questioning. Whether he had known about Maddie, Deacon was unsure, but he had clearly played an important part in persuading Rayna to leave him for good that final time. It was another betrayal that he just couldn't fathom.
His heart still pounding, and despite the fact that he was clearly in no condition to be driving anywhere, Deacon finally located his keys and clicked the alarm, climbing into his truck and making his way onto the street outside the arena. At first he had no idea where he was going, but when he finally pulled the car over fifteen or so minutes later, it wasn't in the parking lot of a bar or on the street outside an AA meeting. It was by the bridge overlooking the park. Their park.
Deacon hopped the wall, hoping his legs wouldn't give way, and hoisted himself up onto a nearby picnic table, the same one where he and Rayna had sat and talked after those compromising pictures of Teddy came out.
It was here that Deacon finally let himself completely break down. He cried unreservedly for a long while. He cried for the daughter that he never knew he had, the years he'd never get back with her, for all the lies. He had stayed sober all these years to prove to Rayna that he could be the man that she had always wanted him to be, but still, somehow that wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough to know about his own daughter.
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and glanced at his car, his mind drifting to the small, off-the-beaten-path bar he used to go to in Franklin.
Deacon's phone began to buzz and he dug it out of the back pocket of his pants. He looked down at it, and sure enough, Rayna's name flashed persistently on the screen.
He stared at it for a minute before switching it off, watching as the screen faded to black.
3.
Third Time – Sandwiches, Songs and Promises
"So um…I was hoping I could play something for you," Maddie said, as she balanced her guitar in her lap, nervously chewing her bottom lip as she waited for Deacon's response.
"Sure darlin', I'd love to hear it," Deacon called back from the kitchen as he carefully constructed a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich as an after-school snack for Maddie.
For the last few months, Deacon had been picking Maddie up from school once a week so she could spend a few hours at his place. Her mom, dad and Deacon had all agreed that at this point it was too risky for the two of them to be seen in public alone together, as that would raise questions or suspicions, which was drama that none of them needed to complicate an already complicated situation.
While they were each a little awkward and tentative at first, the relationship had finally started to settle into what felt like a comfortable place for both of them.
Often, he'd help her practice guitar technique, encouraging her to conquer more complex chords or improve the ones she already knew how to play. Other times, they'd sit in the living room with the television on, just keeping each other company while she did her homework or he worked on music for an upcoming recording session. On nice days, they'd hang out on the front porch swing and she'd tell him about the awful sculpture she'd made in art class or he'd regale her with stories about touring and performing with some of the most famous country stars in the business.
Of all the topics they covered in their talks, there were two things that neither of them ever brought up, even though Maddie was desperately curious about them: his alcoholism and his relationship with her mom. Maddie wanted to talk to Deacon about both those things, but she feared stirring the pot would cause trouble. The last thing she wanted was for him to start drinking again because of something she did or said.
Deacon walked into the dining room and slid the sandwich in front of Maddie. "This okay?" he asked, a triumphant but still slightly self-conscious expression on his face.
"Yeah, it's great, thanks!" she said enthusiastically, picking it up and taking a bite as he slid into a chair at the table across from her.
Three months of this and she still didn't have the heart to tell him that she absolutely hated jelly, so she smiled and ate the sandwiches he made for her without complaint.
"So what's this song you've been working on?"
"It's actually something that I wrote," she said shyly, pulling the crust off the left side of the bread. "It's probably not any good."
"That's nonsense. I'll bet it's great," Deacon responded with a wink, hoping that Maddie would one day trade in his self-deprecating attitude for Rayna's unwavering confidence. "Can't wait to hear it."
Before long, Maddie was perched on a chair in Deacon's backyard, strumming the final chords of her song as he sat and watched her from the steps. It was the first time she had ever played one of the songs she had written herself for anyone. She had a journal full of lyrics at home, but she always felt too insecure to put herself out there with her music, even with her mom. For some reason though, she felt comfortable with Deacon in a way she couldn't explain.
After she was done playing, Maddie eyed Deacon tensely, not sure what to make of his silence. She hoped it wasn't a sign he thought her song was horrible.
"Deacon?" she asked quietly.
He coughed and cleared his throat. That's when Maddie realized he was choked up.
"That was incredible," he finally responded. "I mean it. Your singing was really amazing. And the guitar is sounding great."
Maddie beamed proudly, his approval meaning more to her than she even had realized it would.
"Well, my mom says she was never worth a lick on guitar, so I must get that from you."
Deacon chuckled. Over the years, especially early on, Rayna tried here and there, but her lack of skill on the instrument had always been a running joke between them.
"Maybe genetics has a little bit to do with it," Deacon agreed, "but something you've got to realize is the gift you have, the gift for writing and singing and playing: They're not because of me or because of your mama. They're all yours. Don't ever forget that."
Maddie smiled warmly at his words, but her face fell when it dawned on her that this was the closest they had ever come to talking about her mom.
"You okay, darlin'?" Deacon asked, noticing the uncomfortable expression on Maddie's face.
"I was just…I'm good…," Maddie said nervously, glancing back at the house. "We should probably go inside…I've got some homework to do."
"Why don't you sit down here with me for a minute?" Deacon patted the concrete step next to him.
Maddie got up, gingerly set her guitar down and joined him. He put his hand down softly on her shoulder.
"I know things must be kind of mixed up for you right now, but I hope you know you can talk to me about anything."
Maddie nodded slowly, her lip quivering and her eyes filling up with tears.
"I know that," she replied shakily, "I just don't want to say anything that might…that might make you…."
"Drink?" he said, finishing her thought.
She shook her head yes.
Deacon sighed and turned his body towards her.
"Maddie, listen to me. You are in no way responsible for anything I do. I want you to know that. If anything, you're the biggest reason I've ever had to stay sober."
Deacon dug around in his pocket for a minute before producing a small gold object. He reached for Maddie's hand and placed it in her palm. "In fact, I want you to have this."
Maddie looked down at the coin. It had the word Welcome printed on the front with a set of praying hands that said One Day at A Time on the back.
"It's the chip they gave me at the first meeting I went to after I got sober the last time. Think of it as my promise to you that I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you never have to worry about me."
"You really want me to have this?"
"Absolutely."
Maddie closed her fist around it and smiled, wiping a stray tear from her eye with her free hand.
"There is actually something I wanted to talk to you about," she said, her tone serious.
He looked at her expectantly.
"I really hate jelly."