Deacon wasted no time in stripping off his T-shirt and sweatpants. He ran past Rayna, splashing into the water and then diving head first, disappearing into the depths of the pond out behind his cabin.
Rayna was more hesitant, picking her way down the bank and stepping gingerly into the warm, still water at the edge, watching the dragonflies buzzing and dipping over the surface. She slowly unbuttoned Deacon's shirt. ("Here - I brought an extra one for you," he had said, smiling and handing over his red plaid after their shower.)
She was still lingering, calf deep, when he reappeared in the middle of the pond, blowing hard and shaking his head, his hair throwing off streams of water and his beard glistening.
Rayna laughed.
"What's so funny?" he shouted, treading water.
"You! You look like a drenched coonhound!" she yelled back.
"Come on out here an' say that, Ray."
Rayna took a tentative step toward him and winced, her foot sinking into the slimy mud. The shirt was off by now but she still clutched it awkwardly to her chest.
"You sure there's nobody around here, right?" she called.
"Right."
"All it takes it one person with a cell phone, Deacon …"
"Ray, I'm tellin' you, there's nobody around for miles, I swear. C'mon now..."
"Hey, just give me a minute, okay?"
A moment later, Rayna squealed and jumped, nearly dropping the shirt.
Deacon laughed. "What's wrong now?"
"Something just nibbled on my toe, I swear! God – how come there's so much algae in here? I'm used to swimming pools, babe."
"What're you talkin' about? You saying you don't remember skinny-dippin' up here with me lots of times?"
"Okay, maybe. But what was I – 19?"
"Oh, I get it," Deacon said, floating lazily on his back. "You're too old for this, huh?"
If anything would motivate her, he knew that would do it - and it did. She tossed the shirt back onto the bank and took a couple of determined steps before squealing again as a clot of pond scum wrapped itself around her thighs.
"Rayna, don't make me come over there and get you! 'Cause it is not gonna be pretty if I have to sling you over my shoulder..."
"You wouldn't dare, Deacon Claybourne!"
To that assertion, he simply smirked and disappeared underwater, leaving a trail of bubbles headed her way.
Rayna shrieked and plunged into the water, kicking hard and swimming out into the middle of the pond, where the water was clear but still warm.
She spun herself around, looking for Deacon. Just then, a hand grabbed her foot and yanked it, hard. She struggled furiously but went down deep, gulping water, and then surfaced, sputtering and coughing, a sodden mass of hair covering her face.
Deacon popped up directly in front of her, laughing and reaching for her waist, pulling her toward him. She was still choking as he parted her hair and grinned at her.
"Who looks like a wet hound now, Ray?"
"Shut up, you bastard!" she said, laughing in spite of herself and twisting away from him. She managed to get both hands on his head and dunked him under as hard as she could, but he came up a moment later, grinning and reaching for her again. This time she allowed him to hold onto her waist as she balanced her hands on his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him, dipping her head back to slick the hair out of her face.
"That's better, darlin'."
"You are so bad," she said, smiling. "I don't know why I love you so much." She kissed him wetly, slipping her tongue into his mouth.
"Mmmm … now see there? Isn't this nice?"
"I guess so," she said, rubbing her nose against his. "Now that you got me in here, though, what are you going to do with me?"
"Oh, there's all kinds of possibilities, Ray. Underwater ... acrobatics, you might call it. You'd be surprised what you can get up to when you're not fightin' gravity."
"Oh yeah? That sounds like fun. You're going to have to teach me, though," she said, kissing him again.
"I'll have you know I'm a very good teacher."
"You forget who you're talking to, babe. I know what a good teacher you are."
He shifted onto his back and began kicking under water, propelling the two of them across the pond as she floated along with him.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Boat dock."
"We're gonna do it in your boat?"
He laughed. "No ... we just need somethin' to hold on to so we don't drown."
"Oh boy, that sounds like lesson number one: Don't drown."
"Now, don't be jumpin' ahead, Ray. Or are you one of those always tryin' to be teacher's pet?"
"Well, I do want to be your favorite pet," she cooed, nipping at his earlobe and kissing the soft skin just behind his ear.
"Mmmm ... you are darlin'. You always were ..."
The two of them were so completely wrapped up in each other that neither of them heard the late-model Cadillac crunching over the gravel driveway or the car door slamming. The heavy-set man in the white shirt, black slacks and red suspenders who lumbered out had called Deacon's name twice before Rayna heard him.
She went rigid in the water, tightening her legs around Deacon's torso and clutching his arm.
"What the fuck is that!?"
The voice sounded nearer now.
"Deacon? Uh … Mr. Claybourne?"
Deacon looked back toward the house, spotting the stranger standing at the edge of his porch. Rayna followed his gaze, her eyes flying wide open.
"Holy shit! I thought you said nobody lived around here!"
"They don't."
"So who the hell is that? God - I am in here without a stitch of clothes on, Deacon!"
"Darlin', I am fully aware of that fact, believe you me. Just hang out here a minute and I'll get rid of him."
Rayna clung to the far edge of the wooden dock, where she could see the cabin but not be seen herself. Deacon swam back to the bank, emerging naked and pulling on his pants just as the stranger stepped off the porch and walked hesitantly toward the water.
"Hey, uh, sorry," Deacon called up to him. "I'm afraid you caught me in the altogether here. I was just doin' some swimmin'. Thought I'd cool off, y'know?"
"Oh hell, I don't blame ya, son. I'd do the same damn thing myself, if I wasn't worried about scarin' the critters," the large man said, laughing.
Deacon pulled his T-shirt on and ran his hands over his head, shaking some of the water off his hair and climbing the slope back up to the driveway.
"Deacon Claybourne," he said, holding out his dripping hand.
The man took it and shook it heartily.
"Buddy McWilliams. I bought the cabin up the road a piece last year. Saw ya' around a few times in town but I haven't had a chance to introduce myself until now. I spotted your truck out front and thought I'd stop in."
"Well, thanks, uh … Mr. McWilliams. It's nice to meet you."
"Listen, I don't want to keep you from your swimmin' but I understand you got a lady friend, uh … visitin' here with ya this weekend?"
"Oh. Uh, yeah. Yes, I do."
"Well sir, Andy down at the store asked me to stop by an' give your friend a message."
"Is that right? What kind of message?"
"Just that someone's tryin' awful hard t'get a hold of her. He said some folks called an' left a message last night and then they called again this mornin'. Askin' for Rayna Jaymes," he said. His face screwed up with some mental effort: "She that country singer? Same one?"
"Um, yeah, that's her. She's …"
"Who's trying to get a hold of me?"
Rayna's disembodied voice, emanating from the water, clearly startled Buddy McWilliams. He looked around wildly for her for a few seconds, his face a study in confusion as he failed to locate her.
Deacon tried hard to repress a smirk.
"Well, I don't rightly know …" he called back, looking at Deacon and lowering his voice. "Is it Mrs? or Miss?
"Oh, uh … Miss, I guess," Deacon said.
Buddy raised his voice again: "I'm not sure, Miss Jaymes. Andy just told me t'come by here and let you know that somebody's been callin' the store, lookin' for ya."
"Was it an emergency, did he say?"
Buddy continued to scan the pond, a perplexed expression on his face.
"Well, no …"
"No, it's not an emergency?"
"Well no, he didn't say one way or t'other, I don't guess."
Buddy sighed and seemed to lose interest in this odd conversation. He looked up at the sky and then leaned heavily against the porch rail, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief and gazing slowly around Deacon's property.
"Real pretty piece of land you got yourself up here, Mr. Claybourne. S'posed t'be a storm comin' through this afternoon, they say. Think we'll get some rain after a while? Sure could use it. Break up this heat a little, maybe?"
Deacon could see that this discussion of the weather could continue on for a good long while, if Buddy McWilliams had his druthers. But he was eager to get back to his lesson - and his favorite pupil - in the pond. At the risk of being rude, he stepped briskly over to the Cadillac and opened the driver's door.
"Well, thank you for lettin' us know about that message, Mr. McWilliams."
"Buddy, please," the man said, watching Deacon. After a moment, he reluctantly heaved himself away from the porch railing and walked over to his car.
"Buddy. Right. Thank you very much. I wish I could offer you some coffee or somethin' but-" Deacon inclined his head back to the pond, which still seemed mysteriously empty.
"Oh, no, no, no … don't you worry about me. We'll have ourselves a nice long visit up t'my place sometime soon ... when you don't have company. Y'all have a great … swim," Buddy said as he lowered himself into the car, which lurched under his weight. He started the engine and backed out of the driveway, waving as he drove off.
"Is he gone?" Rayna called, after a moment.
"Yup. I'm comin' right back in," Deacon said, heading toward the pond.
But Rayna was already clambering out onto the bank and picking up his plaid shirt, a worried look on her face.
"Whatcha doin', darlin'?"
"You heard him, Deacon! Someone's trying to get a hold of me. Something must be wrong. Maybe one of the girls is sick or …" Rayna's voice trailed off as she hurried past him and climbed the porch stairs two at a time, disappearing into the bedroom of the cabin.
"Ray, there's nothin' wrong …" Deacon said, sighing and following her inside. She went straight for her suitcase, rummaging around in it for some clothes.
"Rayna …"
"We need to get into town right away, babe," she said, pulling out jeans, a blouse and her underwear and heading into the bathroom, where she brushed out her hair and twisted it up onto her head, clipping it in place. "Who knows what the hell's going on at home. God, it's always something with kids! I'm worried."
They dressed hastily and climbed into Deacon's truck. The drive into town only took a few minutes, but it felt like forever to Rayna, who had pulled a baseball cap and sunglasses on as they left the cabin. She alternated between chewing on her cuticles and tapping her fingers on the dashboard. Deacon could see that she was letting her imagination run wild. He reached over and took her hand.
"Ray, I promise you, everything's okay. You got no cause to panic."
"How do you know that, Deacon?! What if Maddie got hurt on her camping trip? What if Daddy's had some kind of relapse – or worse? Jesus, I knew Daphne was getting a sniffle before I left ..."
"Rayna ..."
"You heard that man - whoever's been calling has been trying to get a hold of me since last night! I thought you said they'd send somebody over right away if I got a phone call."
Rayna's tone was growing increasingly frantic and Deacon could see that she was working herself up into a state - and probably, he thought, for absolutely no reason.
"Hey, Ray, slow down, darlin'. Let's just get to the bottom of this."
She shook her head, looking out the windshield, and sighed, biting her lower lip.
"I probably shouldn't even be here, Deacon. I don't know what I was thinking, leaving town, leaving my kids - and not telling anyone. Not even telling Teddy where I was going-"
"Teddy!? What the hell's he got to do with this, Ray?"
Deacon was getting annoyed, but he took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Listen, darlin', no matter what's goin' on, you're gonna be all right, okay? I'm here with you."
She looked over at him, her eyes filling with tears, and squeezed his hand as he pulled into the parking lot in front of the store. Rayna was opening the door and jumping down from the truck before he fully stopped. By the time he got into the store, she was at the back counter, the telephone receiver at her ear.
"Hey, Andy," Deacon said, waving at the sandy-haired, thirty-something shopkeeper, who was stocking the shelves with canned goods. "Thanks for passin' along that message, man."
"Hey, Deacon. No problem. Buddy said he was goin' by your place anyway. Your girlfriend seems kinda upset, though. Everything okay?"
"Oh … she's just worried about her kids, is all. Afraid somethin's wrong at home."
Andy nodded and went back to his cans. Deacon walked back to where Rayna was standing, her brow furrowed in consternation, her foot tapping the wooden floor impatiently as she waited for her call to go through.
"Bucky? Hey. It's me. What's up?"
Bucky. Well that about figured, Deacon thought.
"Everything's okay, then? And the girls? Oh. Well, it's just that you kinda scared the hell outta me, babe. Oh, really - she did? Yeah, say hi to her for me."
Rayna put her hand over the receiver and looked at Deacon.
"It's Bucky. Tandy's with him. She spent the night at his place," she said, smiling and raising her eyebrows as she delivered this news.
"What's goin' on, Ray? Is anything wrong?"
She shook her head and turned her attention back to the call.
"Yeah, Deacon says hey, Bucky. So what's goin' on?"
Rayna nodded, quickly growing absorbed in her conversation.
Deacon sighed. "So you mean nothin's wrong at all?"
Rayna looked at him and covered the mouthpiece again.
"No, everything's fine, babe. He just wants to talk to me about something."
Deacon shook his head and walked away, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. Unbelievable. Not even 24 hours in and their weekend was already being interrupted by Rayna's manager. Didn't that just about figure?
He strolled the aisles for a while, getting increasingly frustrated as he half-listened to Rayna's chatter. Finally, he drifted back over to her and tapped her arm. She had her head turned away, listening intently to Bucky on the other end of the line. He put his arm around her shoulder, but she responded by putting her hand in his face and shaking her head, indicating that she couldn't talk to him.
"Rayna."
She ignored him.
"Rayna!"
His tone caught her attention that time, and she turned around to look at him, flustered.
"Hang on a sec, Buck. Deacon, they've got an idea about the next leg of the tour they want to tell me about."
Rayna turned away from Deacon again and continued talking. He stared at the back of her head, exasperation flooding through him.
"The tour, Ray? Seriously? That's what we had to get all fired up over, an' come runnin' down here about?"
She held her hand up to his face once more, motioning again for him to be quiet.
That was the last straw.
"God damn it, Rayna!" Deacon shouted, slapping his palm down on the counter. That startled Rayna, who whipped around to look at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open in astonishment. The half dozen shoppers in the store fell silent, staring curiously in their direction.
"You got all the time in the world to talk about the fuckin' tour and you gotta do it right now? Jesus Christ!"
Rayna froze, staring at him and feeling the anger rise up from deep inside her.
"Hey! Don't you talk to me like that, Deacon!"
Deacon puffed up his cheeks and exhaled audibly, as he so often did when he was angry. Then he shook his head again, his eyes burning into her, and turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out of the store.
Deacon? Deacon!" she called after him, but the wooden screen door was already slamming shut behind him.
Their argument raged out of control on the drive back to the cabin. Deacon shouted that he'd known all along they wouldn't be able to get through the weekend without her work intruding. Rayna shot back that he sounded almost disappointed that there wasn't an emergency, instead of being relieved. He told her that if she felt guilty about being with him, she shouldn't have come, and reminded her that this weekend had been her idea in the first place. Rayna sputtered back that he was out of line, and finally folded her arms, declaring that she wasn't about to discuss this - or anything - with him when he used that tone of voice with her.
When they got back to the cabin, he pulled up short and jumped out, slamming his door, and she did the same. They faced off in the driveway, glaring at each other. "Front door's unlocked," he spat out. Then he walked off, disappearing around the side of the cabin. She clenched her jaw, angry as hell, and started after him.
She'd taken only a few steps, however, before she stopped. This was the worst time to try and talk sense into him, she realized, when he was furious and in no mood to listen to reason. In the past, she would have followed him anyway, worried that he would head straight into a bar. But things were different now, and she wasn't sure that pursuing him was the best way to deal with him anymore.
She stood in the driveway for a few moments, thinking. Maybe it was best to leave him alone and let him work things out on his own, like he had done after he'd stormed out of Edgehill's CMA nominations party.
Eventually, Rayna turned and went inside, heaving a furious sigh as she entered the kitchen, put her cap and sunglasses by the back door and shook out her hair. At least the temperature had dropped as the weather had changed, and the cabin was cooler now. She looked out the expansive back windows, watching the dark clouds fill the sky over the pond as the storm closed in.
What Rayna really needed was a drink. A glass of wine, at the very least. But she hadn't packed any alcohol and she knew Deacon would have purged this place of temptation years earlier. He was fine around drinking – she'd seen him nursing club sodas at bars and parties often enough, after all - but somehow it hadn't felt right to bring liquor along on this weekend, to this place.
The cabin held so many memories for both of them that it almost felt haunted.
She dug around in the pantry for a few minutes before she turned up an ancient box of Lipton tea bags and some sugar. She rinsed out the red kettle on the stove and fixed herself a cup of tea, realizing suddenly that she was famished. They had not eaten the night before and, except for a cup of coffee and a piece of toast this morning, they hadn't had a meal today either.
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the sandwiches and fruit she'd packed for their supper the previous evening, selecting chicken salad on wheat and an apple for herself and sitting down at the kitchen table to eat it. She looked out the window again and saw Deacon sitting on the edge of the wooden back porch, dangling his legs over the side, watching the Western sky as lightening tore across it and thunder rumbled low in the distance.
He must be hungry too, she realized, and she started to get up and take him a sandwich. Then she thought better of it. There was no telling what kind of mood he was in. Better to let him come to her in his own time.
Rayna stayed at the table, eating and sipping her tea, getting lost in her memories of this place. She kept her mind focused on the good times, blocking out the bad. It was something she'd become expert at, all those years ago, when dwelling on the negative would have made staying with him impossible. And she had wanted to stay with him more than anything.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she slowly became aware of his eyes on her. She looked up, realizing that the room was nearly dark and raindrops were pelting the windows. Deacon was leaning in the doorway to the den, watching her. He must have come in through the bedroom, she realized, when the rain had started. But she had no idea how long he'd been standing there.
She only knew that he had that sad, haunted look in his eyes, the look that always broke her heart.
"Rayna…"
Without a word, she got up and went to him, sliding her arms around his waist as she felt his strong arms close around her. She shut her eyes and held him close, resting her head on his shoulder. It took her a long while before she recognized the word he was whispering under his breath, over and over. Finally, she realized what he was saying: Her name.
It was the one thing he had always equated with love, and safety - and home.