A/N: Thanks so much for all of your wonderful comments, which have been particularly generous given how bleak these early chapters have turned out. I promise things will get better eventually! Thanks also to Shiny Jewel for beta-reading and advice.

Chapter Four

Paternity Revealed

It was nearly a week and a half after her visit to The Riverside Center, and Rayna was in the waiting room at her gynecologist's office. She'd been referred to Dr. Lindsey Madsen by a fellow singer nearly a decade earlier. At that time, she'd been an intimidated teenager looking for birth control, and the doctor had been a newcomer to a large, male-physician-dominated medical office. Over the years, Rayna had referred several friends to the efficient but caring doctor, who had gone on to have two children and establish her own practice.

In turn, Dr. Madsen had followed Rayna's career – and Deacon's – and the two women had become friendly. Two years earlier, she had moved into a suburban practice with three other female OB/GYN's. It was a bit of a drive, but Rayna had stayed with her. Today she couldn't have been happier that she had. She could only imagine the judgmental looks she might have gotten from some doctors if she'd gone to them asking for a paternity test. Not to mention the tabloid leaks. Dr. Madsen and her staff had been nothing but professional and supportive.

On previous visits for checkups and Pap smears, Rayna hadn't paid much attention to the other women in the waiting room. She'd always been distracted, working on something or in a hurry to get back to the studio. Today, however, she found herself gazing at all the pregnant women surrounding her. Some of them were barely showing, wearing their new maternity clothes with a self-conscious air, tinged with a hint of pride. Others waddled through the door, flushed and looking as if they couldn't wait to be rid of their enormous bellies. And some, accompanied by friends or mothers, entered carrying newborns in their just-out-of-the-box car seats, babies wailing lustily - everyone else clearly exhausted.

Most interesting to her were the couples. All of the soon-to-be fathers seemed to slink their way into the waiting room, grimacing as if they could barely suck down oxygen from the estrogen-rich atmosphere. The older ones sat next to their wives or girlfriends, slouched low in their chairs, pretending to be absorbed in articles like, "Best Strollers for your Budget" in the latest issue of "American Baby" magazine. Rayna thought they might find themselves more captivated by the headline that had caught her eye, "Great Sex During Pregnancy: Yes, You Can (Still Do It)!"

The younger men sat with their legs thrust out, arms and ankles crossed, and threw their heads back, gazing at the ceiling as if bored to tears. At least Deacon wouldn't act like that, Rayna thought. Deacon. Picturing him here amused her. What would he do? How would he feel? Or maybe it would not be Deacon but Teddy here with her a few months from now.

Dr. Madsen's nurse, Kathy, appeared in the doorway and called Rayna's name. Heads swiveled in unison, as those in the waiting room who hadn't spotted her looked up, interested. Rayna rose and followed Kathy down the hall into the doctor's carpeted and wood-paneled office. The nurse had short blonde hair and a German accent, and she made over the babies like a long-lost grandma. Rayna noticed that many of the new mothers greeted Kathy as if she were a relative, or a dear friend. She wondered whether she'd get similarly close to her over the coming months.

Once Rayna was settled in the office with a glass of water, Kathy put her chart in a slot on the back side of the door and walked out. "Doctor will be with you in just a couple of minutes," she said, smiling.

Rayna took a deep breath. She couldn't remember being this nervous, unless she was backstage at a major arena waiting for her turn to go on. In fact, this was probably worse than that. Forgetting a lyric or missing a note in concert wasn't likely to change her life. The next half hour would.

She had been on pins and needles since she and Teddy had visited this office to have the test done. Sometimes, she wondered if she should have listened to her family and just married him - or someone like him - a long time ago. How much easier it would have been to have fallen in love with an art teacher, or a doctor, and settled down by now. She smiled to herself when she realized that it was her neighbor Dave's face – shaggy blond bangs falling into his eyes, longish hair curling up a little at the nape of his neck – that came into her mind when she thought about marrying a doctor.

Instead, she'd been swept off her feet by Deacon, and she'd never looked back. Their relationship had been passionate but exhausting. And now, between speculating about the results of this test and keeping Teddy at bay – he was still calling several times a day insisting they get married - Rayna had not slept soundly since her visit to Riverside.

Her conversation that afternoon with Deacon, though brief and heartbreaking, had been revealing. Rayna had realized that Jill's harsh diagnosis was absolutely accurate: Deacon was doing the work to get sober all right, but he was doing it for her, expecting her to bring him happiness. That meant that when he finished his program, the two of them were destined to fall back into the vicious cycle they'd been stuck in for years. Unless something changed.

The other thing their talk had shown her was that Deacon had absolutely no recollection of that magical night back in April. She'd known that he didn't remember asking her to marry him; that was why she had thrown off his ring. But she hadn't any idea that he didn't even remember seeing her. His comment that their last encounter had been at Christmastime meant that he had gotten so completely wasted after he had stormed out on her, the entire weekend had been erased from his memory.

That realization was sad, and frankly humiliating. But it raised an intriguing possibility: Teddy's crazy scheme – one that Tandy was pushing now as well - could actually work. Rayna hadn't seriously considered marrying Teddy and having him raise Deacon's child – if indeed this was Deacon's child – as if it were his own, leaving Deacon completely in the dark. That was impossible, she'd told him over and over again. Surely Deacon could add, could count up the weeks and months since they'd been together. And surely he would come to her, asking if there was any possibility he could be the father of her child.

And lying outright to him? Denying it to his face? Rayna didn't think she could do that, not about this. But, if he didn't remember their night together? That meant it would never occur to him that her baby could be his. He would never demand a paternity test, or sue for custody, or want visitation rights. She and Teddy could plausibly keep this baby away from him, raise it in safety and comfort, and get away with it. Maybe forever. It was almost too easy. That tantalizing thought had been lingering in her mind, shaming and tempting her at the same time.

There was a quiet tap on the door and Dr. Madsen entered, smiling, carrying Rayna's chart in her left hand. She extended her right hand and Rayna rose and took it, returning her smile nervously. "Hey there, lady – always good to see you," the doctor said, leaning in to kiss Rayna's cheek. Rayna put her arms around Dr. Madsen and gave her a little hug. "It's always good to see you too, although today …" Rayna's voice trailed off and she grimaced.

Dr. Madsen had curly blonde hair that reached to her shoulders. She always wore it pulled back with a sparkly headband, which today matched her earrings. Under her long white lab coat, she wore a navy blouse and skirt, with pantyhose and heels. No matter how many hours she worked, or how much time she spent running after her toddler and her first-grader, the woman always looked classy. Rayna loved that about her. The doctor walked around her desk and sat down, setting the chart in front of her and opening it.

"I know this isn't the easiest time for you, Rayna. I'm sorry about that. How are you holding up?"

Rayna took a deep breath and let it out. "I'll tell you what, I'm going to feel a whole lot better once we get this over and I know where I stand," she said.

"I know. It's always the uncertainty that's the worst, isn't it?"

Rayna nodded, watching anxiously as the doctor scanned the first few pages of the chart. She flipped back and forth between them for what seemed like an eternity but was probably no more than a minute. When she looked up, her face was grave.

"I'm sorry, Rayna. The test results are negative. There's definitely no genetic match."

Rayna swallowed, wanting to be certain of what she was hearing. "And that means …?"

"I'm afraid there's no possibility that the fetus you're carrying was fathered by your current partner-" Dr. Madsen flipped the page over again and ran her index finger down it. "Mr. Theodore Conrad. This isn't his baby."

A flush of elation shot through Rayna from her head to her toes. Deacon's baby. She'd felt it all along, known it in her bones; but now it was true. Scientifically confirmed. Deacon's baby. Immediately, the initial joy was followed by a chill of apprehension. Deacon's baby. Everything was about to get much, much more difficult.

"Is there … someone else we should bring in for testing, Rayna?" Dr. Madsen asked, delicately.

Rayna shook her head. "No. There's no need. I know who the father is." The doctor was looking at her, curious but too professional to come out and ask. Rayna closed her eyes and nodded. "Yeah, it's Deacon's."

"Oh, Rayna," she said, reaching across the desk for Rayna's hand. "How's he doing these days, with the substance abuse?"

"Not good," Rayna said. "Not good at all."

Dr. Madsen gave her a sympathetic look and squeezed her hand briefly. "The lab that did the testing will send the results to Mr. Conrad, but you'll probably want to discuss them with him yourself," she said, and Rayna nodded. Then she went back to the chart, looking through several more pages. "Well, the good news is that there were no abnormalities found. So far, this is a healthy fetus. And I can tell you the gender now too, if you'd like."

"Really? You can?" Rayna said, surprised. This possibility hadn't even crossed her mind.

The doctor smiled. "Well, when we analyze the genes, we can tell a whole lot. Including whether the fetus has an X and a Y chromosome or a double X. I won't tell you, though, unless you really want to know."

Rayna didn't have to think long before she answered. "You know what? I've had way too many surprises lately. Go ahead and tell me."

"Okay. It's a girl."

A girl. A perfect little girl. Deacon's daughter. Her eyes welled up, and Rayna felt her throat catch with emotion.

Dr. Madsen noted the tears. Her face got very serious. "You know, Rayna, you do have a choice here. You're getting very close to the end of your first trimester, so you don't want to take too much time, but …" she reached for a card on her desk and handed it across to Rayna. The Women's Center. "This clinic does all kinds of screenings and well-woman exams. They also do terminations. It's clean, and safe, and everyone who works there is very discreet. I've referred several patients there and I've never heard a bad word from any of them."

Rayna stared at Dr. Madsen, her heart thudding, realizing what she meant. She looked down at the card again. "Oh."

"I want you to know, Rayna, that whatever you decide, I'll support you. And I'm here for you if you want to talk things through, ask questions - anything. If you need me, call my office number. If I'm not with a patient or at the hospital, I'll jump on the phone with you. If I'm busy, leave a message and I'll get back to you just as soon as I can. Okay?"

Rayna brought her right hand up to her heart and nodded, her eyes still moist. "Thank you," she said, "I am really so grateful to know you. And so glad that you're my doctor."

That night was another near-sleepless one for Rayna. Between daily pregnancy exhaustion and her nocturnal tossing and turning, she didn't know how long she could hold up like this. Her work was suffering and she'd even cancelled a couple of small gigs pleading illness, something that had shocked her band and her manager. She'd tried napping, which helped, but she hadn't had the strength to call Teddy after her doctor's visit. She knew he wouldn't be terribly surprised at the news, but she didn't want to rehash the whole conundrum with him yet again.

She wanted to sort things out for herself first. The problem was, she had no idea how to do that. Tandy was no help. She launched into Teddy's case, laying out why marrying him was the only thing to do, every time she called. Deacon had always been the person Rayna relied on in tough situations. He knew exactly how to talk things over with her and help her figure a way out of a difficult spot. Without him, she was lost.

So she lay awake, placing her hands on her lower abdomen every once in a while and thinking about what was hidden inside. Deacon's baby. Our baby. She also seriously considered what Dr. Madsen had pointed out: She did have a choice. Maybe she didn't have to decide between Deacon and Teddy after all, between being a single mother with a child at risk or lying to someone she'd always loved so dearly.

Instead, she could put this whole thing behind her. Return to her career and concentrate on writing songs and performing. She was in a good place with her music, and it brought her true happiness. Defined her, even. Maybe it would be best to just move on.

She woke up more tired than refreshed, but she got out of bed anyway, put on her robe and made coffee. Then she opened her apartment door and stepped out into the hallway to retrieve the Tennessean lying on her welcome mat.

"Well, if it's not the great Rayna Jaymes!" Dave's voice boomed from down the hallway as she straightened up with the newspaper in hand. He was approaching from the direction of the elevators, looking sweaty and spent in a pair of basketball shorts and a white T-shirt, running shoes on his feet. He was carrying a large, pink-cardboard bakery box.

Rayna smiled. "You're up and about early."

"I've already put in five miles. And picked up some bribes for the nurses," he said, nodding to the box, still breathing heavily. "Donuts never fail to soften them up. And I need them to treat me right today."

"Smart man. And good for you, with all that running. I never could get into it, but you must be in great shape."

"Oh, like you're not. Putting on those huge shows night after night must take a hell of a lot of stamina."

She looked at him in surprise and he grinned sheepishly. "I really need to apologize for being such an ignoramus before - not even knowing who you are. I realize how ridiculous I must have sounded, asking a CMA award winner what kind of work she did."

"You know what? I kind of liked that you didn't know me. Living in the spotlight all the time gets real old, real fast," Rayna said, crossing her arms and leaning against her door jamb. "How'd you figure it out?"

"Looked you up on the Internet. Read all kinds of interesting things," he said, teasing.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Oh my gosh – I can only imagine what they're saying about me on the Internet. Must have been juicy reading."

"Fascinating," he confirmed with a mysterious nod.

"You know, I really want to look something up myself, but this new computer I got when I moved in – I can't figure out for the life of me how to hook it up. It's still in the box in my spare room."

Dave balanced the pink box in one hand and swept his damp hair off his forehead with the other. "Well, I'm no computer whiz, but I could see if I can help you out, if you'd like. My shift doesn't start for a few hours - and I'd sure love an excuse to sneak one of these donuts. Are you going out?"

"Nope. I have rehearsal but it's not until later this afternoon. I really don't want to take up your time, though. I know how busy you are."

"How about this: You make the coffee and I'll bring over the donut of your choice. Show me the computer and I'll see if I can't get it working, or at least figure out what you need." When Rayna hesitated, he smiled again. "You know, you really do owe me a chance to make it up to you for being such a dumbass."

She returned the smile. "Coffee's already made. You got a maple bar in that box somewhere?"

"Absolutely. Two of 'em, in fact. They're my favorites."

Rayna stepped back inside. "Mine too. Give me half an hour."

Less than 90 minutes later, Dave had Rayna's new desktop computer plugged in, booted up and connected to the Internet, its dial-up modem squawking and bleating as she logged in to her email account. When a triumphant voice announced, "You've Got Mail!" Dave high-fived Rayna, who was beaming.

"Wow - you are amazing. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You've got that whole boy-genius thing going on, after all."

"Happy to oblige, m'am. Now, what was it you wanted to look up? I can show you a meta-search engine I like."

"Oh, it's just a quote. Something by Einstein."

"Which one? The one about stupidity and genius?"

"Uh, no. Something about … the definition of insanity?"

"Ah - you mean, 'Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.'"

Rayna paused a moment, digesting this, and then nodded. "Huh. Yep, I bet that's it." She looked at him quizzically. "How'd you know that anyway?"

Dave laughed and ran his fingers through his bangs again, a gesture Rayna was finding increasingly endearing. "That one's pretty well-known, actually. It's not my favorite though. I like, 'Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves.'"

Rayna laughed and swatted his arm playfully. "Einstein said that? Well, I'd have to agree with him on that one. Hey, you want coffee now? I can hear that maple bar calling my name from all the way out in the kitchen."

They settled themselves side-by-side on the stools at her kitchen counter, drinking coffee and eating their donuts. He asked her about her music, how she'd gotten started and what it was like to perform in front of thousands of people. She asked him about his plans for the future, where he'd done his undergraduate degree and how a starving medical student could afford to live in a building like theirs, something she'd been curious about since they'd first met. He put her off at first, but she finally got him to confess: His father was a doctor, but it was his mother who was the true computer genius. She'd been one of the early employees at Microsoft and was now worth millions, thanks to stock options.

"Ah-ha! Rich parents."

"Yeah. Don't tell anybody."

"Oh, don't worry, I know how it is."

"That's right. I read about your dad. Sounds like he owns half of Nashville."

"And has sinister designs on the other half. That's daddy, all right."

"Well, I figure my secret's safe with you then."

"My lips are sealed. In fact, I'm keeping all kinds of secrets right about now."

"And with a proper poker face, too. I like it."

"Really? I hate it," she sighed, getting up to refill their mugs. She looked at him from across the kitchen. "You know what? You're easy to talk to."

He grinned and she noticed the dimples again. "That's what my patients tell me. I always get high marks on bedside manner. Unfortunately, it's the diagnostic part that's my stumbling block."

"Yeah? Figuring out what's really wrong with people? I always thought I was pretty good at that. But I'm not so sure lately."

He picked a business card off her counter and looked at it. "The Women's Center. You go there? I would've thought someone like you would have private health insurance, from your record label or the musicians' union."

"Oh, I do. I mean, I have a private doctor. I just …" Rayna's voice faltered a little. "Hey, do you know that place?"

"Sure, I know it. I'm going into public health, remember? Community clinics are how a lot of people around the world get their health care delivered. I've taken a couple of tours over there."

"Are they … good guys?"

Dave frowned, looking confused. "Well, they're mostly women, actually. Not many guys work there. But if you're asking are they competent and professional – sure. They do annual exams, Pap smears, all that. But what they're really known for is providing abortions."

He glanced up at her and the look on her face stopped him flat. "Oh," he said slowly. "Wow. That was really out-of-line, me going through your stuff like that." He put the card down. "I'm sorry, Rayna. It's none of my business."

"No, it's okay," Rayna said. "I just … I don't know. I might be …"

Dave waited for her to continue. "That's tough," he said finally, when she remained quiet.

"Yeah. Really tough."

She looked miserable. Like she needed someone to talk to, but didn't have anyone to listen. It was hard to believe that a woman in her position didn't have a sympathetic ear somewhere, but he recognized the lost expression on her face. He'd seen it often enough on the faces of his patients. "If I had to guess," he said slowly, "I might say this card has something to do with those secrets you were telling me about before."

Rayna nodded, staring down at her lap. "Yeah," she whispered.

He waited again, but she did not continue. She also did not change the subject, he noticed, or ask him to leave. "Well," he started, "I'm just the guy who plugged in your computer – "

"And brought me a maple bar."

"Ah yes, the maple bar. I can see that gives me certain privileges around here."

"What kind of privileges?" she asked, looking up at him. He could also see, suddenly, just how vulnerable she was. Another man might find a way to take advantage of that vulnerability right about now.

"Advice privileges. Like, maybe I could tell you my theory about keeping secrets. Would that be okay?"

She nodded. "Sure. I can use all the wisdom I can get. Even from my computer guy."

"Your donut guy," he corrected, and she smiled a little. "So Rayna, here's what I think about secrets. They start out light and easy. You think they don't weigh a thing, that it won't take any work to carry them. But they get heavier and heavier, the longer you drag them around."

Rayna was watching him intently, following his words.

"Letting your secret out of the bag might feel impossible right now. But it's a hell of a lot easier to do it as soon as you can, believe me. Because if you don't - if you hold onto it - one day that little secret you thought you could hide away in your back pocket is going to become a huge boulder. And it's going to stop you from moving forward. It's going to stop you from being happy."