So this is the story behind the song Deacon sang at the concert Rayna attended. Four years later.
Deacon stood at the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee to finish. He flipped through the latest issue of Rolling Stone Country. He was trying to be nonchalant about it, but with Rayna on the cover, it was hard to stay away from old memories. She looked good. Hell, she always looked amazing, even when she wasn't glammed up and airbrushed to the nth degree. He thought she actually looked best with no makeup, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, wearing old jeans, old boots and one of his t-shirts. He still hadn't read the story, although he knew he eventually would. Or at least would skim it. He was surprised at how much it all still hurt, still felt so close to the surface.
He'd been gone from Nashville for six years, although the first couple were mostly a blank. Just like the last couple of years he'd been in Nashville. When Watty had found him and took him to rehab, he'd felt sure Rayna was behind it, although he'd never asked and Watty had never said. It had taken a six month program to finally get him set up for success, but he knew the reason he was clean and sober today was on him. He'd made a commitment to this, because he wanted to be the best man he could be, for himself and for his daughter. He was ready to be a dad, the kind of dad that Rayna didn't think he could be.
The coffee was ready, so he poured himself a mug and closed the magazine, turning it over. He walked out to the deck that overlooked the lake. He put the mug down on the railing and leaned on it, clasping his hands in front of him, squinting his eyes against the early morning sunlight. Maddie would have turned six not long ago. He knew nothing about her. He'd shut the door on Rayna when he left Nashville and when he'd finally emerged from his two and a half year booze-soaked nightmare, he'd been resolute in his decision not to be the one to reach out. She'd accused him of not being able to stand on his own and told him she would never prop him up again. He was determined, then, to find his own way, his own place in the world. Without Rayna Jaymes.
But he always thought he'd hear about Maddie. Even though the agreement was that it was Maddie's choice, somehow he'd thought maybe Rayna would let him know how she was doing, what was going on with her. But there had been nothing but silence. And as the days and weeks, months and years had gone by, he'd somehow figured out a way to mostly bury the hurt and pain and just keep moving forward.
He didn't like to think about the fact that he'd missed Maddie's first smiles, her first words, her first steps, all those firsts. It hurt to think that she was calling Teddy Conrad "Daddy" and not him. But maybe it was better this way. He was sure she had a good life, that she was happy and loved, and he knew that because he felt sure he'd have heard if it was different. He knew Rayna was still married to Teddy, that they'd had a daughter of their own together. She was living the life she said she'd always wanted, that white picket fence life that she told him he couldn't give her.
He looked down and then pushed off the rail, grabbing up his mug. He moved to sit in one of the chairs and watched the lake rippling in front of him. This place was a calming place. He'd bought it after the band had their first triple platinum album. It reminded him a little of his place north of Nashville, but only that it was on a lake. Although the trees surrounding the property gave it privacy, it was not as secluded and off-the-beaten track as the cabin had been. This place wasn't far outside Austin, but it felt like the best of both worlds. Close, but not too close. It had been a healing haven for him as he had rebuilt his life in Texas.
He grimaced as he took a sip of the coffee, realizing he'd let it sit too long and now it was lukewarm. He got up and walked back in the house to pour another mug.
When Jaymes was starting out, her lead guitar player, and live-in love, was Deacon Claybourne. She often credited him with being a big part of her success. Many of her most popular songs were co-written with Claybourne, most of which she declines to perform today. But Claybourne seemed to vanish, from both her band and Nashville, for several years, before turning up in Austin, Texas and now headlining his own band. When asked about him, Jaymes is circumspect. "Deacon had a lot of issues that we just couldn't work through together," she says. "It was kinda bittersweet when he left, but we've both prospered since then. I think we were just too different, in so very many ways."
He dropped the magazine on the deck. He felt like there was a weight on his chest. I think we were just too different, in so very many ways. It was true that their backgrounds could not have been more different. She came from money, from high society, and he came from nothing. A hardscrabble life in Natchez, Mississippi, with a violent drunk for a father and a mother with mental illness. He and his older sister Beverly had grown up in fear, for their lives but also for their futures. They had clung to each other, trying, not always successfully, to keep each other safe from the rages of their father and the unintentional neglect by their mother. They'd both escaped – him farther than Beverly – but not completely. Deacon was a drunk, Beverly had similar mental issues as their mother.
But even though Rayna's life was more privileged than his, he knew she'd had her own share of pain. She'd told him that her parents had been distant from each other for as long as she could remember. That there were fights, especially over her mother spending time outside the house and her father's busy travel schedule. Her mother had died when she was twelve, but her memories were good ones for the most part. But Lamar Wyatt had been a distant father, both literally and emotionally. And he'd kicked Rayna out of the house when she was sixteen, because she'd wanted a career in country music.
He sighed, then got up and retrieved a guitar from inside the house. He sat and looked out over the lake, then closed his eyes. He saw Rayna the way he'd first seen her, at the Bluebird, looking so very young and fresh and pretty, with her expensive cowboy boots and her perfect little outfit. And there he was, in clothes that were thinning from being worn over and over, and scuffed up boots and hair he trimmed himself. They did come from different backgrounds, but he'd always thought they had connected on a level that didn't know class or position in society. Was he wrong?
He opened his eyes and wrote down some words and then worked on putting down the melody in his head.
Diamond rings and old barstools / One's for queens and one's for fools / One's the future and one's the past / One's forever and one won't last
There was a picture of her with Teddy, Maddie and Daphne. One of those portrait pictures. She was holding the little one on her lap and Maddie was sitting on Teddy's lap. He felt a spasm of pain in his heart and he breathed deeply, trying to make it go away. He looked closely at Rayna. She had a smile on her face, but he noticed it didn't really seem to make it all the way to her eyes. He knew most people wouldn't notice, but he did. He knew her so well. Maddie looked happy though. She was wearing glasses. Something else he didn't know about her. They made her look older, more serious, even though she had a big grin on her face. He smiled. His girl was beautiful, with her long, dark hair and her big smile. He bit his lip and felt tears in his eyes. His heart hurt. He wondered when he'd get to know her.
It ain't like midnight and cigarette smoke / It ain't like watered down whiskey and coke / I guess some things just don't mix like you hoped / Like me and you / And diamond rings and old barstools
Jaymes has really been on a torrid trajectory in the last five years or so. Sold out arena tours, a triple platinum album, two double platinums, three Grammys, three straight CMA Female Vocalist of the Year awards and an Entertainer of the Year nod three years ago. When asked what changed, she said, "You know, sometimes you get weighed down with baggage and bad patterns. I had to do some housecleaning, if you will. After my first daughter was born, I made some decisions that lifted a huge weight off my shoulders and gave me a clean slate. I like to think I made the most of that opportunity."
He worked his lip. She didn't say it in explicit terms, but he knew what was between the lines. He had been her baggage, her bad patterns. The first time he'd gone to rehab, she'd been so supportive. She worried that he would hate her for sending him. All he'd felt was embarrassment that she'd had to do it at all. He'd been so grateful that she'd waited for him, been there when he walked out the door. He had completely felt like he hadn't deserved that.
That was when he'd bought the cabin. For her. He sighed as he thought about that. He remembered when she had shared with him her dream – to have a house on a lake where they could grow old together, raising up their children and playing music together. She had described it to him one night when they were out on the road, as they traveled to the next gig. She had just turned nineteen and they had been together almost three years.
"Don't you have a dream, babe?" she'd asked him, as they snuggled up together in the back of the old bus, in the tiny little sleeping compartment with the bed that was really too small for the two of them. They didn't mind, though, because they liked the closeness.
He had smiled and nuzzled her neck. "You're my dream, baby," he'd responded. "I don't need nothing more than you."
She laughed. "Silly. You're my dream too, but I mean the future. Don't you think about that? What our future will be?"
He hugged her close and smiled again. "Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want."
She got a dreamy look on her face. "A little house on the lake, away from everything and everybody. Someplace we can go and just escape everything. A place just for us. And one day, for our family." She wrinkled her nose and smiled. "Too much?"
He shook his head and leaned in to kiss her. "No, ma'am. One day we'll have that place. I promise you that."
He'd found it after he got out of rehab that first time. He'd been surprised at how closely it matched what she'd wanted. He knew he wasn't supposed to buy something like that, but he'd been so grateful to her for standing with him. And he loved her so much. He would never have believed he could have fallen in love at the age of nineteen. No, not just fallen in love, but found the person he was meant to be with. Because he'd known it then, just like he knew it now.
Only it hadn't lasted. It just wasn't meant to, he guessed.
The wrongs and rights, the highs and lows / The "I love you's," the "I told you so's" / Past few miles to wherever's home / Another morning waking up alone
Jaymes and her husband, businessman Teddy Conrad, have two daughters. On the subject of her girls following in her footsteps one day, Jaymes laughed. "They're a little young for that, you know. But, if they choose to do that, I'd want them to wait until they're out of school. This business has changed a lot and I want them to have normal growing up experiences before they think about a future in music, or whatever they choose to do." But her oldest daughter seems to already have the bug. "Maddie, my oldest, she loves to play the guitar. I'm not sure where that comes from, because I'm certainly no guitar player," she says with a hearty laugh. "But she's just gravitated to it. So you never know."
He felt a little bit like he couldn't breathe. Maddie, my oldest, she loves to play the guitar. He breathed out. Somehow, he hadn't expected that. It made him proud, to think that she might have gotten that from him, even though he wasn't sure that was something you passed on to your child. But thinking that she liked to play, even at the age of six, hit him hard. It would have been something for them to share. It could still be something for them to share. One day.
He never talked about Maddie, of course. He'd never told anyone in Austin about her, about having a daughter. He wasn't exactly sure what all had been in that agreement. Rayna hadn't given him a copy that day. Maybe she would have, the next day or the day after that or sometime in the future, had he stayed in Nashville. He hadn't even read it. She told him the gist of it. Teddy's name would be on the birth certificate as her legal father. That had already happened, of course, by the time he'd signed it. They'd already agreed to that. Or, actually, it had been decided and he'd been told that was how it would be. Rayna told him that. Teddy had never been a part of their conversations.
The other part was that it would be Maddie's choice whether to have a relationship with him or not. Rayna had promised she would tell Maddie, that she would always know. He didn't know what that meant. Would she have told Maddie from the beginning that the man she called "Daddy" wasn't really her daddy? Would she understand something like that at two or three or even six? He frowned as he thought about how that might work. He was afraid he might have fucked that part up. It would be easy for Rayna and Teddy to never tell Maddie. But he had to trust Rayna. He didn't trust Teddy, but he trusted Rayna. And he knew she would do the best for Maddie that she could.
But she and Teddy had their own daughter now. That changed things. Maybe they'd want to have their own family and not make Maddie choose. He felt a cold chill run down his spine. What if they don't tell her? She said she had a clean slate. What if that meant Maddie too?
It ain't like midnight and cigarette smoke / It ain't like watered down whiskey and coke / I guess some things just don't mix like you hoped / Like me and you / And diamond rings and old barstools
When asked if she'd ever collaborate with her old songwriting partner again, she seemed almost a little sad. "I would never say never, but it doesn't seem like that's in the cards for us again. Deacon's gone in a different direction and we just really don't cross paths. Musically, we just aren't in the same place anymore." And about his refusal to come to Nashville? "You'd have to ask him that. I really don't know."
Writing with Rayna had come so naturally. Well, after a few fits and starts, with her telling him she didn't need anyone to write with her. But one day she was stuck on a verse and she'd asked him what he thought. Hesitantly, he suggested a change to a line and deleting another line. He had expected her to blow up at him, but had been surprised when she looked at it and decided it was better that way. From that day on, they wrote together regularly.
All her biggest hits were songs they wrote together. Well, her biggest hits before he left Nashville. Before she fired him from her band and kicked him out of her life. She didn't sing those songs anymore, except for a couple that weren't overt love songs. Instead, now she wrote her own songs, or she sang other peoples' songs. She still had giant hits, but she didn't do those soulful ballads like they used to write anymore.
To be fair, he didn't either. He'd sung some of them when he was playing the honky-tonks around Austin, when he was still drinking. Some people recognized him, although he'd never been a front man, just Rayna's bandleader and lead guitar player. Watty had promised him, when he took him to rehab that last time, that he'd hook him up with people in Austin that could get him on the map. And he had.
The idea of a band had been that of his first producer, Mike Allen. Mike had pulled together some of the best session players he knew, several of whom had spent time in Nashville at one time or another. They knew Deacon and his musical reputation and were interested in a collaboration. That it had turned into a band and that it bore his name, still blew him away. He still did most of the songwriting, but he and his bandmates had worked to create a new sound.
So Rayna was right, they had gone in different directions musically. His new brand of country had more than a hint of rock 'n roll in it and he found he liked the high energy sound. He still wrote other songs, like the ones he'd written before, but he put them away for the day when he would need that sound again. If he'd need that sound again.
As to why he didn't go to Nashville? Because she was there. And because he was certain that if he stepped foot in that city again, he would be done. He wasn't ready for that. As far as he'd come, it was still fragile. One of the things Watty had said to him when he'd picked him up at the end of the six month program had really stuck with him. You need to do this on your own, Deacon. I know you love Rayna and I know you want a relationship with your daughter, but if you don't figure this out, this time, none of it will be worth it. You'll know when it's time, when you're ready. If you go back any sooner, you'll lose it all forever.
When he was asked, he didn't answer the question as to why he wouldn't go back to Nashville. Why he wouldn't perform there or even go pick up an award. He wasn't ready. The members of the band didn't understand, but they didn't argue. Someday, it would be time, and that's when he would go.
We ain't like midnight and cigarette smoke / Nothing like watered down whiskey and coke / I guess some things just don't mix like you hoped / Like me and you / And diamond rings and old barstools
He had a good life now. He had a career far beyond anything he'd ever dreamed of for himself. It was far beyond anything even he and Rayna had ever dreamed of. He'd found a place that felt like home. If it wasn't the same as Nashville, it was close enough. He'd found a rhythm to his life that was serving him well and letting him stay sober and focused on the future. And he'd finally found love again. Something he wasn't sure he ever would.
That day he'd left Nashville, he was at the lowest point he'd ever been. But he'd climbed out of the abyss and was headed forward. Rayna was his past, an important part, to be sure, but he was moving on. Figuring it out every day.
He heard the sliding door open and close, then felt Blair's arms go around his neck. "How come you let me sleep so late?" she murmured in his ear.
He smiled and then threaded the fingers of his right hand into hers. "You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to disturb you," he said.
"Are you writing a song?" she asked.
"Yep."
"Is it finished?"
He shook his head. "Not quite." He knew she wouldn't really be that interested, so he didn't want to make her feel obligated to listen. Besides, it was one of those songs he wrote for later. He lifted her left hand. "Pretty ring," he said, looking at the diamond sparkling on her hand.
She laughed softly. "This incredibly handsome, sexy guy who sings in a band gave it to me last night," she said teasingly. He tugged her hand and pulled her around to sit in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her close. She's not Rayna, but maybe she is who I need. So I can keep moving forward.