A/N: Not quite a sequel to 'I'm Only In It For The Love', but another seminal moment in Deacon and Rayna's lives together. Rayna's most inconveniently pregnant. Deacon's in rehab – again – and she has a new man in her life. Could things go a little differently this time? AU.
Maddie's plaintive little cries woke her from a fitful sleep. She sat up in her bed. Sunlight had brightened the room, muted by the blinds on the windows. She looked over at the clock and it was just after seven. At least she's not an early riser. She threw off the covers and swung her legs off the bed, then stood up slowly. It had been a little over two weeks since Maddie had been born and she was still a little sore, but mostly just tired. Her daughter was a good baby, but she had a tendency to want to hover. And jump up at every noise. And watch her daughter sleep, waving her fingers under Maddie's nose, to make sure she was breathing.
She smiled to herself as she padded over to Maddie's cradle. She had set up a whole nursery in the other bedroom and then, the day she went into labor, she'd made Tandy help her move the cradle into her room.
They were standing in the middle of the nursery. "This is ridiculous, sweetheart," Tandy said, frowning. "You're going to have a baby any minute. You can't be moving things around now. If you still want to move it, we can do it later."
Rayna shook her head. "I want to do it now. If I don't do it now, it won't happen. I want her in the room with me at first. And I'm not going to have this baby any minute. It will be hours before we even go to the hospital." Her contractions were still irregular and had felt more like waves, not gentle waves but not overly angry ones either. She was still holding onto the foot of the crib. "Please, Tandy, help me."
Tandy looked around the room until her eyes lit on the cradle in the corner. She looked back at Rayna. "What about the cradle? I think that would actually be perfect." Rayna looked over at the pretty little cradle her friends Pam Tillis and Martina McBride had given her. Another contraction wave washed over her then and she held her breath and pressed her hand against her belly. Tandy rushed over, concern on her face. "Babe, are you okay?"
Rayna looked at her and rolled her eyes. "It was just a contraction." She held up her hand as her sister started to protest. "I promise, it's not that bad. And we're a long way from heading to the hospital." She looked back at the cradle as the contraction eased. "I had forgotten about the cradle. I think that would be perfect. Help me move it in my bedroom."
She stood over the cradle, looking down at Maddie, her tiny face all screwed up. The cradle had been perfect and she was happy to have her baby close to her. She felt the need to nurse, so she hoped Maddie's cries were cries of hunger. She smiled at her daughter. "Good morning, sweet girl," she cooed. "Are you ready to nurse?" Maddie, of course, didn't answer, but looked at her mother with her deep blue eyes as her cries quieted a little.
She reached in and picked up her daughter, carrying her into the nursery, where the glider was located. She picked up a burp cloth and then sat down. She unbuttoned the front of her nightgown and moved the sleeve down as she opened it up. She arranged Maddie in her arms and pointed her in the direction of her breast. To her relief, Maddie grabbed on immediately and began to nurse. Rayna sighed, leaning back in the chair and closing her eyes as she felt the gentle, rhythmic tugging.
Today was the day, she'd decided. Today was the day she'd end any lingering, hopeful questions about who Maddie's father was. She had needed a minute to just let it all sink in, knowing that both Maddie's life and her father's life, as well as her own, would be forever changed. She'd received the paternity results the day before and had cried both tears of relief and a bit of sorrow. She opened her eyes and looked down at Maddie, thinking about the fact that she so clearly looked like her father that it didn't even require the test. She leaned her head back again and thought about how she had come to this point.
~nashville~
Rayna walked into the waiting room. There were about seven or eight other women there, some alone, a few with a male significant other, who she automatically assumed was a husband. Then she stopped herself. She certainly didn't have one of those. She wondered if, in the future, someone would come with her to appointments like this.
She noticed the surreptitious looks. The glances. Those who were with someone probably whispered "that's Rayna Jaymes". It happened. There were a lot of famous people in Nashville, in spite of it being such a small city. Most people left celebrities alone. It was that unwritten rule and so she didn't anticipate anyone approaching her. She got a few shy smiles as she walked to the front desk to sign in. She wrote her name on the sign in sheet and then smiled at the receptionist when she opened the window.
"Hey. I have a ten o'clock appointment."
The receptionist nodded. "We'll be with you shortly, Ms. Jaymes."
Rayna smiled again and then walked over to sit in a chair that was away from the others. She picked up the Country Weekly magazine and leafed through it. She stopped when she got to a page with a picture of her on it. She sighed.
The picture was of her and Deacon, taken several years earlier. She was leaning into him, with her mic, and they were clearly singing to each other. It was in the days just before she really broke out, back before she put together a band and started headlining her own shows. While she loved the career she had these days, back then it always felt like they were a little closer to the music, closer to the fans. She glanced at the headline – "What's Next for Rayna Jaymes?" The article was close to six months old now and it was written after she'd broken up with Deacon and fired him from her band.
She worked hard to keep his multiple trips to rehab out of the press but his substance abuse issues were widely known and remarked upon in the country music community. The decisions she'd made had been tough, but necessary. The previous eleven years with Deacon had been magical in so many ways. But they had also been some of the most painful and tumultuous of her life. Despite it all, though, she'd had a difficult time cutting ties with him completely.
He was the love of her life and she'd always said he was in her blood. She'd met him when she was a nervous but excited sixteen year old, trying to start a career in country music. It had been her dream for as long as she could remember. Her father had not been supportive and she had felt very alone as she tried to navigate the world of opens mics and talent spotlights, honky tonks and dive bars.
She had met Deacon Claybourne at the Bluebird. He was performing with a woman she later learned was his sister, Beverly. Rayna remembered how nervous she had been when she'd performed at the Bluebird the first time. When she'd gone back and sat in the audience, she wondered if she'd ever feel anything but starstruck. Then she had seen Deacon on stage and had pretty much fallen in love right then and there. The way he sang, the way he played the guitar, it had spoken to her in a way she had never experienced again. It had been like he could see into her soul.
Deacon had introduced himself after he got off stage, something she learned later was out of character for him. He was not the type who made the first move or put himself out there easily, and yet he'd made that effort for her. He told her how good she was and that he hoped to see her again, which had surprised her. His sister, with a sour scowl on her face, had come up then and dragged him away. As she watched him walk away, all she could remember was how much she had wanted to see him again.
The next time she was at the Bluebird, he was there. At the end of the night, she had asked him if he'd teach her how to play the guitar. He'd been a little reluctant at first, but then he agreed. She smiled to herself. Even if he thought he wasn't a good teacher, he was. She just wasn't the best student.
She also met Watty White that night, who ended up being the one who matched her up with Deacon, when his sister went back to Mississippi. The rest, as they say, was history.
She closed the magazine, not really wanting to read the article again. She knew what was there. Speculation about why she'd broken up with Deacon, speculation on who she'd replace him with as her guitar player, their long romantic history, her Belle Meade background versus his wrong side of the tracks upbringing. She frowned a little. People didn't know Deacon the way she did.
"Rayna?" The nurse who called her name roused her from her musings and she looked up and smiled. She put the magazine aside and got up. She could feel all eyes in the room on her as she walked to the door.
There would be more of this in the future. People would be staring, watching, wondering what was next for Rayna Jaymes. She took a deep breath when the nurse left the room after giving her instructions on getting undressed and into the gown. As she removed her clothes and slipped into the exam gown, she thought about what was next. She put her hand on her still flat abdomen. Before long, it wouldn't be and the world would know Rayna Jaymes was pregnant.
She got up on the exam table. She had never expected this to happen to her. At least not this way and not at this time. One thing she had always been was careful. About everything. She never left things to chance, never let herself get so caught up in something that she wasn't in control. But that was exactly what had happened to her.
She supposed most people would assume that the nice man she'd been dating, Teddy Conrad, was the father. It would be a logical assumption. She had started dating Teddy not too long after she'd broken up with Deacon and they had been sleeping together much of that time, not that she told people that. Usually Teddy would stay at her place, but occasionally they stayed at his. His place was nicer but she preferred being in her own space.
Teddy was a kind, gentle, considerate lover. They never did anything crazy, like sex in the shower or with her sitting on the kitchen counter. She didn't remember ever gasping for breath or feeling sweaty afterwards. He had never been so hot for her that he just pushed her skirt up around her hips and took her wherever they found a private place. It wasn't his style.
She squirmed a little on the table and then crossed her legs. No, sex with Teddy was nice but definitely not like that. In fact, sometimes it felt like he was being almost reverential, which kind of bothered her. He also never failed to wear a condom, although her research had confirmed that condoms weren't a hundred percent effective. She twisted her hands together as she considered that very small possibility.
If Teddy wasn't the father, though, then it meant only one other man it could be.
Deacon.
She felt a sob bubble up in her chest and she breathed in deeply. He was her weakness. Had been since she'd first laid eyes on him. She had never truly been able to give him up, although she'd hidden that well. She shivered. There had been that night she'd seen him at Tootsie's, about two months after she'd started dating Teddy. He wasn't drunk – yet – but he'd had a few. And she'd had a few. And her defenses were down and she didn't think about the new relationship she was building with someone else. They had ended up in a bathroom with the door locked, her skirt up around her waist and him deep inside her as she wound her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair.
There was another time when she ran into him at Sound Check. His eyes had seemed to be undressing her. She'd felt the heat coursing through her body, and she could tell he knew that too, and he'd hustled her into a closet. She had pressed her clenched fist over her mouth to mask the little screams of pleasure, as she pressed herself against the wall and he'd ripped off her panties and taken her roughly, driving her practically insane with desire.
And, of course, there was that afternoon at the cabin, unexpectedly filled with romance. It had been right after she'd gone public with her relationship with Teddy. Deacon had been furious, had shown up drunk at her apartment and broken every stick of furniture in it. She had huddled in the hallway, shaking with fear, as she waited for Coleman to come and take him away. She'd sent him to rehab, for the fourth time and thought she'd washed her hands of him for good. He had left early, though, and she'd been worried. She had finally tracked him to the cabin and tried to talk him into going back and finishing rehab.
He had begged her to break up with Teddy, to make a life with him. He wanted to marry her, he said, but she told him she couldn't unless he went back to rehab. He had promised her he would and then made love to her in front of the fire and later in their bed. They hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other and she'd felt all those things she never felt with Teddy Conrad.
When she left and went back to Nashville, she had felt encouraged. Teddy was out of town and she had decided to tell him, when he returned, that she wanted to break up. She had thought, wrongly as it turned out, that Deacon was committed to sobriety and to her, that he'd figured it out, somehow, finally.
But two days later, when she hadn't heard from Deacon, she had a bad feeling in her gut. He wasn't at home and no one had seen him. She sent Coleman to the cabin, where he'd found Deacon passed out. Sadly, she had arranged for one more stay in rehab, a long-term program, and told him he was out of her life for good. He begged her to reconsider, but she'd been resolute in her conviction that he would never change. Yes, he was her weakness and he had proved it yet again. She had let herself be fooled, let herself be tricked, let her guard down at the worst possible time. She told him she wouldn't do it again.
And now she was pregnant and it didn't really take much guessing to figure out whose baby it was or when it had happened. But her doctor was the one who'd first told her that a condom wasn't a hundred percent safe, when she'd come in for the pregnancy test, leading her to frantically research confirming information, and that was the only reason she couldn't completely rule out Teddy. Now she was left wondering what to do. Wondering what conclusions people would draw. Then deciding it was no one's business except hers. Well, and Teddy's and Deacon's.
That was what kept her up at night these days. What to tell them. She and Teddy weren't together anymore. After what had happened at the cabin, she'd had to acknowledge that, while she liked him, she wasn't committed to him. She didn't want to mislead him and she didn't want to string him along. Even though she'd cut ties with Deacon, yet again, she didn't want to go running back to Teddy. But if it turned out he was the father, then he would be back in her life. And then there was Deacon. The man she loved in spite of all the hell he'd put her through. But Deacon, well, Deacon was in rehab. Again.
Just then the door opened and Dr. Norris came in. "Hey there, Rayna," she said, smiling warmly. "Let's get going with your first pre-natal visit, shall we?"
As she drove home, Rayna felt introspective. Dr. Norris had done an ultrasound and she had seen the baby, just the size of a peanut, really. But it made it real. I'm pregnant. I'm having a baby. She felt tears in her eyes and she smiled just a little, briefly putting her hand over her abdomen. She had always known she wanted to be a mother. She knew she was meant for it. She and Deacon had talked about it, almost always in general terms. She'd always assumed she and Deacon would get married and have a family. That they would live at the cabin, as they'd talked about since Deacon had bought it, raising up their children in a loving home. But his struggles with alcohol and, later, pills, had meant that all of those plans were on hold. Or at least they had been until that magical night at the cabin that had turned into a nightmare at the light of day.
She choked on a sob. She wanted to be his wife. She wanted that life they'd always talked about having. She wanted to grow old with him, loving each other and playing music. But she couldn't marry an alcoholic. At least not one who couldn't figure out how to stay sober. He was in rehab for the fifth time and she'd given up thinking he'd ever make it work. She'd cried herself to sleep the night Coleman had taken him this last time, putting him into a six month intensive residential program, far away from Nashville. She feared that this would be his life from now on. That he would do rehab, stay sober for a while, and then fall back into old habits. Until he died from it.
Her heart ached, for him, for herself, for the baby inside her that was probably theirs. They should be doing this together, but she just didn't see how that would work. She couldn't depend on him and that kind of life would not be good for raising a baby. She didn't know what to do next. She needed some time and space to figure it out. She went back to the little apartment she'd rented in the West End, the one she'd moved to after Deacon had found the first one and broken every stick of furniture in it, after he'd found out about Teddy, and before that night at the cabin. She walked into her bedroom and straight to her closet, pulling out a small overnight suitcase, one she usually used for accessories when she went out on the road. She wouldn't need much, just some jeans and t-shirts and underwear, which she packed in a hurry.
She was glad it was a full moon night. The moon itself was low in the sky and lit up the water so fully that it was nearly bright as day. She sat in her car and sighed, wondering what it was that brought her here, of all places. Finally, she opened the door and got out, grabbing her suitcase from the back seat. She walked up the steps and slowly down the porch. The last time she'd been here, she'd been filled with hope and laughter, love and dreams, although those dreams had been shattered just days later. She wondered if, when the sun rose the next day, she'd feel the same.
She set down the suitcase and felt along the top step that led out to the lawn for the key Deacon always left there. Her fingers touched it, sleek and cool, and she drew it out. She went to the door and inserted the key, unlocking the sliding door. She slid it open and, picking up her suitcase, walked in. She reached along the wall for the light switch and turned it on, then gasped.
The place was a wreck. Overturned furniture, records tossed everywhere, empty bottles and half-empty bottles of whiskey on the counter, and a few smashed on the floor. She put her hand over her mouth as she navigated around the mess. Her stomach turned over as she considered what had happened there. She felt tears in her eyes. Her instinct was to want to help him, but she also knew it really was up to him to help himself.
As she looked around the room, she thought back to that day when Coleman had called her, after she'd sent him to the cabin. Cole's voice was steady and unemotional, but she knew it must have been killing him inside. She knew he was afraid Deacon would never be able to conquer his demons and, quite honestly, she wasn't sure he would be able to either. It would be Deacon's fifth try at this. He'd been angry and belligerent about it, she knew, and had fought it, although eventually he'd given in.
She sighed and sat on the edge of the couch. What had Cole said later? He was in bad shape, Rayna. About the worst I've ever seen him. As she looked around the room, she understood. Her chest hurt and she felt tears again. He was a mess. His life was a mess. She hoped this longer program worked, but she admitted to herself she had little confidence.
She got up and picked up a half-empty whiskey bottle on the floor, carrying it to the kitchen. She poured out the rest of the liquor, then dragged the trash can out from under the sink. She took a deep breath and tossed the bottle in the can, then started to put the cabin back in order.
The sun was bright the next day when she woke up. She was laying in the bed she and Deacon had slept in the last time she was there. And all the other times they had been there. She stretched carefully, her body feeling a little stiff already after the cleanup from the night before. It was after midnight when she'd crawled into bed, still fully dressed, and cried herself to sleep.
This house had been magical for them, for a while. Deacon had bought it for her after he'd gotten out of rehab the first time. His way of thanking her for sticking by him. It was her dream home, one she'd seen in her mind her whole life, and she'd been stunned at how much it looked like what she'd envisioned.
It had been their safe place, for years. It was where they came to get away from the demons that chased him. It was going to be the place they retreated to when they finally decided to leave the music business behind. It would be a place to grow old in, with their children and grandchildren, living on love and music. None of that seemed possible now though.
She pulled the covers around her, not wanting to get up and face what she'd come here to do. It was the perfect place to reflect, to make decisions, to plan, but she wasn't ready yet to do that. She reached down and put her hand on her stomach. For now, she wanted to just relax into the idea of this baby, keep it her own little secret. She didn't want to decide anything. She just wanted to be alone. The time would come soon enough when she wouldn't be able to keep it close, just for herself. She would need to tell Tandy, tell Bucky, tell Deacon and Teddy. But not just yet.
For now she just wanted this place to work its magic, let her clear her mind, let her keep the outside world at bay, and just relax. For just a little while she needed to not have to worry about what was next. She wrapped her arms around the pillow and closed her eyes, letting herself drift back to sleep. Blessed, healing sleep.
The sun was just starting to go down and it looked like it was setting the lake on fire. Rayna walked out onto the porch, with a blanket wrapped around her. It was chilly in the evenings, especially now that the sun set earlier in the day. She sat in one of the chairs, tucking one of her legs under the other and pulled the blanket a little closer. Suddenly there were tears on her cheeks and she wanted to blame them on the cool breeze, but she knew it was that being in this place, knowing it was such a special place to her and to Deacon, and also knowing the baby inside her was conceived here, made her heart break for all the lost opportunities for them.
She wiped the tears away with the blanket and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She'd met Deacon Claybourne when she was sixteen years old and had fallen in love with him the first time she laid eyes on him. When he'd told her it had been the same for him, she wasn't sure if she believed him or not. She had worried that he only wanted sex – probably because Tandy told her that – but he'd been so protective of her from the start and he'd never taken advantage of her. She had instinctively known that, when her father had kicked her out of the house, Deacon would take her in, protect her. Not that she'd needed protecting, but it would always be his way to want to stand in the way of any obstacles she faced.
She hadn't realized back then how truly dark his past had been, how pervasive his demons were, and how hard they chased him. She had watched him descend deeper and deeper into his own personal hell, using cheap whiskey to cover up the pain. She had held him when he had nightmares, paced the floors when he was late coming home, fought with him over how the booze was taking him over. The fights were brutal, rage-filled, and draining. She'd lost count of the times she'd bailed him out of jail, found him passed out in a bar or a hotel room, traced him to a hospital. There had been too many times when she thought he was dead or would die. She wiped her eyes again.
But she had loved him, known it was impossible to break away from him. When he was sober, he was loving, and he made her heart race. The music they created was from their hearts and when they sang onstage, it felt like the world around them had faded away and they were the only two in it. The lovemaking had been both passionate and sweet, as they completely lost themselves in each other. He was in her bloodstream, as much a part of her as breathing. But being the partner of an alcoholic had worn her down to the point that she could barely make it through a day without crying. She had watched him go to rehab – once, twice, three times – and though she always welcomed him back, it never stopped being the battle they fought.
It had been while he was in rehab the fourth time when she found out she was pregnant, and now he was there a fifth time. At times it had felt hopeless, and she knew she couldn't live her life like this. She couldn't let her baby be in the middle of it.
She closed her eyes and started to cry. She cried for the sweet young man she'd met all those years ago. The man who tried to teach her to play guitar and had been patient with her, even when she got angry at him about it. He'd written the most beautiful song for her, without even knowing her, and it had swept her off her feet. He'd taught her almost everything about songwriting and then together, they had written the most beautiful love songs to each other. He was always the one she ran to, when things went wrong. He was gentle with her, loving her in a way she'd known was a forever kind of love. She looked back out over the lake, the sky almost dark.
She still loved him and that was the truth. She had wanted to marry him, raise a family together, but she'd held back. The demons that chased him chased her too. They upended her life, caused her grief and pain, and she was almost never sure she was doing it right. All she did know was that, in spite of it all, she still loved him, she didn't know how not to. She had cast her lot with him the day she met him, and while she could leave him, she couldn't not care.
And now here they were, although he didn't know it yet, and she wasn't at all sure what to do.
She thought about what she should do next, what her options were. She considered that maybe coming to this place wasn't the smartest thing to do, in light of the decisions she needed to make. Her choices were that she could say nothing – to anyone – and just have this baby. She could tell Teddy the baby was his, even if that were unlikely. She could tell Deacon the baby was his, although she thought he might not even suspect.
She didn't think saying nothing would be right. It would mean denying her baby, and her baby's father, of having that relationship, so she discarded that. Telling Teddy could mean a number of things. She could tell him he might not be the father or she could just tell him that condoms aren't a hundred percent effective. She could let him believe this child was his, raise it up with him, and no one would be the wiser. They would probably get married and both she and her baby would be loved and have that solid life she craved, after all the crazy of the last eleven years. She could tell Deacon, who probably wouldn't even remember they were together. It was the curse of his years of drinking – blackouts that meant he would forget hours, or even days, at a time. Time that was gone to the murky world of drowning demons with booze. Or she could tell them both and let the chips fall where they may.
What scared her the most was what, deep in her heart and soul, she knew was true – this was Deacon's baby. She had just untethered her life from his and this could mean living with his struggle for the rest of her life. Through all the pain, she had never not loved him, but she couldn't live her life like that. She had come to realize that and she just didn't think she could go back to it. It had felt like she had come out from the darkness and into the light, shedding those burdens and heartaches, and the thought of going back to it, even for the sake of this child, left her feeling broken down.
Can I go back to that, even just a little bit? Is it worth it for my baby's sake? Could I live my life – and my baby's life – with a lie? But can I live my life always wondering, always worrying, always waiting for the next binge or worse?
There were no easy answers and it felt like she was no closer to figuring it out than when she came.
It had been three days since she'd come to the cabin. Three days of rest and peace. The days were crisp, the nights chilly enough for a blanket. She was ready to go home though. As she stood on the porch with a mug of tea, looking out over the calmness of the lake, she felt settled. She'd be back on tour in ten days and she would need to talk to Bucky about how long she could go. She had an album dropping just after Thanksgiving that she would be previewing on the road that she was really excited about. She had some shopping to do, because her jeans were already fitting more snugly.
She had decided she was going to do this on her own, and so she'd need to talk to Tandy, because she'd need her sister's support more than ever. And, of course, she needed to talk to Deacon and Teddy. Not telling them both the truth was just not an option.
She took a deep breath and then turned to walk back into the house. She looked around, noting to herself that it looked better than it had when she'd arrived. It had felt a little bit like, as she was putting the room back in place, she was putting the pieces of her life back in place too. She'd had a lot of big moments in her life, but she was getting ready to embark on the biggest one yet. She felt nervous and scared, but also excited for what was to come. Now she just needed to get back to Nashville and embark upon her plan.
She went to the kitchen and washed out her mug. She dried it and put it back in the cabinet. She wiped down the counters and then picked up her purse. She grabbed her overnight case and headed out the door.