This is my prompt answer to the July Fanfic Challenge. The Challenge is: your story should incorporate a message (letter, email, etc) and have at least one character (other than or along with Rayna and Deacon) who plays a pivotal role. The prompt encouraged creativity & trying something new...so here will go. This will (hopefully) be a multi-chapter story.

A HUGE thank you to Shiny Jewel for being my Beta on this! You have no idea how much I appreciate it.

Turbulence

"Here is your drink Mr. White," says the first-class stewardess as she hands me a glass of red wine.

I do not typically drink, but I need the liquid courage today. For starters, I loathe flying. Simply loathe it. I only fly when I absolutely have to, like for an overseas event or when I need to get from Point A to Point B quickly. Today's journey is necessary because of the latter.

I look in my carry-on bag and see the envelope sticking out of the side pocket. I should have made the flight three days ago when I received the invitation in the mail. As soon as I saw the invitation, I thought it was some very odd joke. The invitation read that 'Lamar Raymond Wyatt' announced the engagement and approaching marriage of his daughter "Rayna Constance Wyatt" to "Theodore James Conrad." Even more preposterous, the wedding date was set for this coming Friday. Who on earth was going to believe Rayna would get married to a stranger, at Lamar's home, on Friday? But then I looked at the invitation closer. The cream colored paper was high quality and the lettering on the invitation was raised from the paper. This was a real invitation.

I pull it out and read it again. My heart lurches at the sight of Lamar's name, and again at the fact I found out she was getting married by a piece of paper. She hadn't even thought to call first.

I think briefly of how little I'd been around in the last year. The radio show has kept me busy, as had the two new artists that I'm working with. So, I just took Rayna's word on the phone when she assured me that, "everything was fine." It was easier to take her answer at face value rather than go into detail about Deacon's sobriety and the tour.

Until I got the invitation, I hadn't thought much of her cancelling lunch with me a few months back. She was busy and so was I. Neither of us bothered to reschedule. If something had truly gone to hell again, I assumed I would hear about it. I always had in the past. Nashville was a small town and I was well connected. Lately though, things have been quiet. There'd been no chatter in the studio hallways about Deacon falling off the wagon again; there had been no newspaper articles detailing a new arrest report. I suppose that doesn't matter now. The thing I need to focus on is the date at the bottom of the invitation. The wedding is scheduled for Friday, June the 18th 1999. Today is Tuesday, June the 15th.

When I realized the invitation was legitimate, I drove right over to Rayna's condo. Upon arrival, I met this Mr. Conrad fellow. He seemed pleasant enough and certainly appeared to adore Rayna. I didn't say anything about the large ring on Rayna's finger several times, and didn't comment on the large garment bag hanging from the door frame with the words, 'Leland's Bridal Shoppe.' In fact, I didn't really say a whole lot at all. Instead, I just sat there dumbfounded when they asked me to stay for dinner.

I met Rayna's gaze while eating, her eyes begged me not to ask any questions. So instead, I exchanged pleasantries with the man I just met. Teddy went to Vanderbilt and was a junior executive at the bank. He was from Memphis and an only child. He and Rayna were looking at houses in Belle Meade. Tandy had set them up and they were planning a week long honeymoon in Jamaica.

Somewhere between Teddy telling me that the wedding cake icing was butter cream and his reciting the dinner menu, I zoned out. It was then I noticed there were no pictures of this man and Rayna in her apartment. I also noticed all the pictures of she and Deacon had been taken down. There were several large wrapped gifts pushed to an empty space beside the couch. They were early wedding presents, no doubt. I noticed how Teddy was constantly reaching out to touch her hand or pat her leg. While Rayna was always receptive to her finance's touches, she never initiated the contact. The second I finished my peach cobbler, Rayna shooed me out the door quickly claiming she had wedding plans to finish.

A man snoring in the row in front of me brings me back to the present. I look around, trying to find the stewardess to ask for some coffee. It just doesn't seem right that I'm drinking alcohol on my way to see Deacon in rehab. I watch as the nice young lady brings me back a hot cup of joe and sugar. I take a sip and take care not to glance out the window. There is no need to remind myself I'm at eye level with the clouds.

Over the two days following that awkward dinner, I called Rayna six times. She avoided all of my phone calls and apparently never checked her answering machine. I went by her apartment twice and saw her car parked in the lot both times. Still, nobody came to the door when I knocked.

So, last night, I just sat on the steps of Rayna's place for an hour until she came home. She told me she'd had a meeting with the caterer. It was then, I told Ms. Rayna Constance Wyatt in no uncertain terms we were going to have a long conversation. Reluctantly, she let me inside.

She went around in circles swearing she was happy and finally getting the life she always wanted. She kept calling Teddy "dependable and loving" and saying she was happier than she'd ever been. Her voice was too high pitched to sound sincere and she kept biting her lip, like her mother did when she was lying. When I brought up Deacon's name, she changed the subject to flower arrangements. Finally, an hour in, I stopped her mid-sentence. I calmly asked her why she was marrying a man she'd known for fifteen seconds.

"Teddy and I have been seeing each other for almost six months," she said in a singsong voice.

In response, I said Rayna's name quietly.

She just stared at me for a long moment then bit her lip again. Without another word she walked into the back bedroom and returned a moment later. She laid down a small black and white grainy picture. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at. Then her eyes met mine again.

"You're pregnant?" I asked.

She nodded. "Four months."

I offered my congratulations which made her smile. Then I asked once more why she was marrying Teddy. She sighed, telling me she knew Nashville would still have issues with her being a single mom. She went into a long spiel about giving the child a stable, happy home.

Then she'd offered that, "He loves me. He will be an amazing husband."

"Yes, but shouldn't the child's father have a say in all of this?" I asked.

Two minutes of denial later, Rayna admitted Deacon could be the father.

I was honestly surprised there was even a chance someone else could be the father. Then, Rayna explained her nonsensical plan to me. She and Teddy were going to get married; she would have the baby, and then figure out the rest. She admitted she didn't think Deacon could handle the idea of a child right now.

"He can barely handle himself right now," she'd said.

She explained the last seven months or so. Deacon's drinking was so bad he barely left the house before checking himself into rehab ten weeks ago. Apparently, his third round with sobriety lasted a couple of months. She'd taken him to rehab for a fourth time and he left eleven days in. Rayna said his temper was worse now and he missed more shows than he made. She'd hired a new lead guitar player and had to have some backup singer do vocals on the new tracks she was laying. She blamed the pills for that and said she suspected he was dabbling in cocaine again. She told me about the airplane bottles in the washing machine and the flask in his guitar case. She nearly blew herself up when she started the oven not realizing he hidden a bottle of Jim Bean inside. She had to take him off her insurance when he wrecked another car into a tree.

Rayna told me she'd paid for his latest trip to rehab. It was a place northwest of Colorado. She cried for a long while last night. She told me that she still loved him but confessed she couldn't wait anymore. She couldn't let what she wanted get in the way of what her child needed.

My coffee has gone cold, but I still take another sip and contemplate what I'm doing one more time.

Rayna will probably never forgive me for what I'm about to do, but Deacon deserves to know. Right now, Rayna is so confused and emotional that she isn't thinking straight. Deacon has worn Rayna down, but she still loves him. Deacon still loves her. They've been together for over a decade at this point. Now they are having a child together, or at least, couldbe having a child together.

She's making decisions based on what people like Lamar and Tandy think is best. Despite my long animosity with Lamar, I'm sure he believes Teddy Conrad is a better choice for Rayna and this baby. I'm sure Tandy feels the same way. Perhaps they are right. Still, Deacon deserves to know he could be a father. He deserves to know Rayna is engaged and her wedding is on Friday.

I look at my watch again. The plane will be in Denver within the hour. Then I'll have to deal with the rental car place. The facility is probably another two or three hours from there.

I reassure myself once again that this is the right thing to do. I didn't get a choice thirty years ago when Grace and Lamar made decisions for me, but I'm going to make sure that Deacon gets a say.

I lean back just as the plane starts to rock. It's gentle at first, then more pronounced. The pilot comes over the intercom and announces that we are going to be experiencing turbulence for a few moments. He insists there is nothing to be worried about. The plane rocks again, harder this time, and I notice my fingers are white from holding the armrest so tightly.

This is why I loathe flying, the turbulence. I realize that I'm getting ready to cause a storm much more powerful and dangerous than the one I'm going through now. As a song writer myself, I can't help but appreciate the poetry of it all.