Deacon had been thinking about it for a while, but when Maddie's tenth birthday had passed by, the desire became stronger. He wasn't sure he'd ever get to know his daughter. He'd thought that by now he would have heard from her. That Rayna would have told her about him and she'd be curious. And even though he'd missed so much of her life, they'd be able to find their own rhythm. He and Blair had never talked much about having a family, not in specific terms anyway. She knew about Maddie, but they never discussed having a family of their own. And he felt like time was slipping away.

He'd talked Blair into coming out on tour with him for a few weeks. He knew it was mostly because they would be in New York and Boston and Philly, places that interested her, but he was glad she had come. He missed her when he was on the road. It was hard not seeing her. She had tried touring with him the first six months they were married, but she hated sleeping in a different bed every night and she hated the tour bus life.

The band was in New York City for five nights of sold out shows at Barclays Center. He'd arranged for them to stay at the Mandarin Oriental, across the street from Central Park, in the Oriental Suite. He rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arm around his sleeping wife. She groaned. "Deacon," she whined. "It's too early."

He smiled and nuzzled her neck. "It's almost ten, sleepy head. Don't you have shopping to do?"

She rolled over to face him. She smiled, reaching up to run her fingers over his cheek. "I suppose I do." She ran her foot over his leg. "What's on the agenda for today?"

He sighed and bit his lip. He decided to just jump in with both feet. "I want to make a baby," he said. He could see the surprise in her eyes.

She swallowed. "Sweetie, what kind of life would it be when you're always on the road? You'd never be around for a baby." That was always her push back.

He ran the back of his hand against her cheek, then pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I'd cut back," he said.

She gave him a look. "What about your band? You can't just make that decision for them."

He shrugged. "They'd be okay with it. They could do some things on their own, stuff they don't do now because of the band." He sighed. "I want us to have a baby, Blair," he said quietly. "I want us to do this together."

She was silent. He wondered what was going through her head. She was a smart woman, so he felt sure she was evaluating all her options. Things had been strained between the two of them since she'd had her riding accident and he wanted them to get back on track. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "You have a daughter already, Deacon," she said finally.

He frowned. "A daughter I never see," he said, brusquely. "I want us to have a baby, Blair. I want us to have our own kid."

She seemed to be contemplating that. She reached out then and ran her fingers down his arm. "Can I think about it?" She ran her foot along his leg. "It's a big decision, you know? I need to think about whether the timing is right. For both of us."

He nodded. Then he leaned in to kiss her, sliding his hand under the sheet and pulling her underneath him. She made a purring noise and kissed him back, letting him know by the way she moved beneath him that she wanted him. Right then.


When Deacon walked off the stage that night, after the second encore, Blair was waiting for him. She didn't come to shows often and so it was a special treat for him whenever she did. She had gone shopping after a late lunch and then had surprised him by showing up at sound check. And now there she was, looking so pretty in her jeans and cowboy boots and her new jacket she'd picked up that afternoon. Her blonde hair was piled loosely on top of her head, the way he liked it, and she had a sweet smile on her face for him.

"Hey, baby," he said, with a smile, then pulling her into an embrace and kissing her. "I'm so glad you're here."

She smiled up at him, her arms around his waist. "Me too," she said. "Y'all were great out there." He put his arm around her shoulder and they started walking. She looked up at him. "Can we just go back to the hotel?" she asked.

He looked down at her. There was something soft about her tonight, not clingy or needy, but like she wanted to be near him. "We can do whatever you want, baby," he said. When she was like this, he'd do anything for her.

When they got in the limo and headed for Manhattan, she leaned forward and hit the button to send the privacy window up. Then she leaned back into him, pulling her legs up underneath her and wrapping her arm around his waist. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head. He was looking forward to a night of lovemaking. He closed his eyes and smiled to himself.

"Yes," she whispered, suddenly.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. "Yes?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"I thought about it today and yes, if you want a baby, we can have a baby."

He tilted her chin so he could look in her eyes and then he leaned down and kissed her. it wasn't until much later, after all that happened after that, that he realized that she'd never said it was what she wanted, but that it was because it was what he wanted.


When he thought about it afterwards, he remembered all the flashes of insight that came throughout that dark day, the day that Blair woke him up to tell him the baby was coming. Things that seemed out of sync, that he pushed aside because there was no time to stop and contemplate them then. He had wanted to take time off from touring to be with her during the pregnancy, but she'd insisted he not change his schedule, that he could take time off afterwards. She'd scheduled doctor appointments when she knew he would be on the road. She had procrastinated on decorating a nursery and she never seemed overly interested in things he'd thought she would be. Things he remembered Rayna being interested in before Maddie was born.

It occurred to him that, even though she limited the time they spent together, Rayna had kept him much more informed about how things were going than Blair did. Blair wasn't even interested in picking out names, although he didn't really focus on that until later. She'd let him decide on the name for a boy and, when she'd balked at choosing a name for a girl, she let him pick that as well. He hadn't realized how much she had distanced herself from the whole idea of a baby until he'd had time to think.

The day that was supposed to be the best day of his life, the day that was going to make up for the heartbreak he felt about Maddie, had turned into a nightmare. One he probably should have seen coming.


Deacon walked out of the hospital, into the parking lot. He stopped for a moment, choking on a sob. He couldn't quite remember, at first, where his truck was. Then he took a deep breath and focused. There it was, where he'd parked it, what, ten hours ago?

He walked over slowly and got in, then sat with his head back on the head rest, his eyes closed. Ten hours ago he'd brought Blair here, in labor, and panicking. She'd been out of her mind, it seemed like, alternately scared and angry. As much as she seemed to want it all to be over, in the days leading up to this, she seemed terrified once they got to the hospital. She didn't want to push, didn't seem to want the baby to come.

Then when he did, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He had a terrible, ultimately fatal birth defect. None of what happened next was supposed to happen, none of it felt normal.

Blair wouldn't hold the baby or even look at him. She literally pushed Deacon away, even as he tried to comfort her. She shrieked at him that it was all his fault for forcing her to even have a baby in the first place. As he was reeling from her verbal assault, a nurse was taking the baby away.

He'd stood there for a moment, not sure what to do, and then Blair's doctor took his arm and gently led him to the nursery. And there he sat, his son laid carefully in his arms, as she explained what was wrong and that he would not survive.

Deacon was so stunned, he couldn't even cry. He held his son, the child he'd hoped to see grow up, and talked to him softly. He told him his name, told him he loved him, and then less than thirty minutes after he was born, he was gone.

After he finally let them take his son from his arms, one of the nurses walked him down to Blair's room. The nurse there, her eyes filled with compassion, had told him Blair didn't want to see anyone. No, not even him. He'd pleaded for a moment, then had finally left, after telling the nurse to let his wife know he'd be back for her the next day.

Now he didn't know what to do or where to go. As he sat there, the tears finally came. For his son, who'd never had a chance. For his wife, who had gone through all this and now couldn't seem to look at him. For all of them, because the dream of a family was over.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, the tears rolling down his face, the soul-crushing sobs shaking his body. But finally he seemed spent and he started the truck and headed for home.


At some point, he'd fallen asleep on the couch in the lake house. He felt stiff and uncomfortable when he woke up. The sun was shining and he gingerly got up. He padded into the kitchen and started coffee. He glanced at the clock on the stove. 9:40. Damn.

He went and got his phone from the entry table. He punched Blair's name and frowned when it went straight to voice mail. He found the number for the hospital and was eventually transferred to the nurses' station on Blair's floor.

He waited while they looked her up. Then the nurse came back on the line. "She's checked out," she said.

Deacon frowned. "What? How could she have checked out? I'm her husband."

There was a pause. "It looks like her parents came for her." There was another pause. "I'm sorry, Mr. Claybourne."

What the hell?


He felt like he'd called Blair a thousand times over the next three days. He called her cell phone and the house in Dallas, with no luck. He didn't know her parents' number. He'd pushed out the graveside service for the baby, hoping he could make contact with her. He was desperate to see her. He knew she must be as devastated as he was, but he didn't understand why she had pushed him away, why she'd turned her back on him. And he needed her.

He was sitting on the deck at his house when his phone rang. He pounced on it when he saw Blair's name. "Blair, baby!" he cried out hoarsely. "Where are you?"

There was a pause. "Deacon, it's not Blair, it's Mary Beth."

Deacon's heart sank at the sound of Blair's mother's voice. "When's she coming home?" he asked.

Mary Beth sighed. "I don't know. She's, well, she's not doing well, Deacon. She hasn't come out of her room since we got here."

He felt tears in his eyes. "I…I need her, Mary Beth. We need each other." He swallowed. "I need to talk to her. Please let me talk to her."

She paused again. "She's just not ready. And I'm not going to force her right now."

"The burial is day after tomorrow. Here in Austin. Please ask her to come."

"I'll tell her, but I don't think she'll be there. I'm sorry, Deacon. I wish I could tell you something different, but she's just not ready."

He rubbed his free hand over his face. "Please let me talk to her. Just for a minute," he begged.

"I can't." And then she hung up.

After that, when he tried calling her, the phone went straight to voice mail.


The day of the funeral was bright and sunny, warm but not too hot. Deacon stood in front of the mirror and hardly recognized the man that stared back at him. He felt like he'd aged ten years in the last five days. His eyes were filled with pain, his face was drawn. He felt completely, utterly alone. He could feel the tears coming and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it did no good. He turned away from the mirror as he choked on a sob. He sat down on the edge of the tub, put his head in his hands, and cried. For his son, for his wife, for himself.

Nothing was as it should have been. He and Blair should have brought their son home. They should have been a family. But instead, she was in Dallas, refusing to talk to him. And he was in Austin, getting ready to bury their son. He rubbed his face, but the tears wouldn't stop. And then, for the first time in a very long time, he wanted a drink. Badly. The intensity of the need kicked him in the gut.

He stood up and took several deep breaths. He went to the sink and turned on the water, filling his hands and then rubbing the cold water over his face. He grabbed the sink with both hands and raised up his head to look back in the mirror. You can't do this, Deacon. You gotta stay strong. He took another deep breath and then pushed up from the sink. He was starting to feel in control again.

He walked out into the bedroom and got dressed.


There were only a handful of people at the cemetery. His band members, his manager, his sponsor. Even though he hadn't expected her, his heart hurt when he realized Blair hadn't come. The service was short. He felt ripped apart as they lowered the tiny coffin into the ground.

He was standing with his head down and his eyes closed when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up. "What are you gonna do now, Deke?" Eric, the band's bass player, asked, his voice solemn.

Deacon shrugged and gave him a twisted smile. "I don't know," he said, raising his eyebrows, then shaking his head.

"Come out with us, man. Just to hang."

He gave Eric a sad smile. "You don't need me hanging around. Y'all got a good thing set up. I don't wanna get in the way of that."

"What are you gonna do if you don't come? Sit around and do nothing?"

"I don't know. Write maybe?"

"You can do that on a tour bus with us, same as you can do it here. And maybe getting out with the guys would help." He put his hand on Deacon's shoulder. "We'd be glad to have you. You know that."

Deacon looked off towards the horizon. He had no idea when Blair was coming home. If she was coming home. Maybe it would be better to be out on the road. Not sit at home. It would keep him from dwelling on things. He looked back at Eric. "Thanks, man. Maybe I'll take you up on that."


Watty was the one who told her about Deacon's son. She was at Maddie's soccer game, sitting with Daphne, who was whining about wanting to go home. When her phone vibrated, she raised her eyebrows. She hadn't heard from Watty in a while. "Hey, Watty," she answered warmly.

"Rayna. How are you?"

"I'm good. Watching Maddie's soccer game." She laughed a little. "I have no clue what I'm watching, and Maddie's not very good, but she seems happy we're here."

There was a slight pause before Watty spoke again. "I don't know if you'll see this anywhere, but I just wanted to let you know that Deacon's son died."

Rayna felt like she'd been sucker punched. "What?"

"I don't know any details except that he died shortly after he was born. I haven't talked to Deacon, just heard about it through some sources. It happened a few days ago."

Rayna struggled to maintain her composure. "I'm sure he's devastated." She swallowed hard. "Thanks for letting me know, Watty," she said softly, and she hung up. She turned her head as the tears welled up in her eyes. She reached up with her free hand to brush them away.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Daphne asked.

Rayna turned to look at her daughter, all blonde and bubbly, although right now her little face was all screwed up with worry. She took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm okay, precious girl. Uncle Watty just called me with some sad news is all." She reached out and put her arm around Daphne, pulling her closer. "Don't you worry about it." She turned her attention back to the soccer game, but she couldn't stop thinking about Watty's call.


When she got home, she looked online for any information. She wasn't surprised that it was hard to find any news about it. Deacon had always been very circumspect about his personal life and that had not changed over the years. She finally found one very small mention. Sad news for DCB frontman Deacon Claybourne and his wife. Their baby son died shortly after birth on June 3. A private graveside service was held on June 8 at Lakeview Cemetery in Austin, TX. There was a picture that accompanied the item, obviously at the graveside service. She recognized Deacon, his head bowed, but then she frowned. There were only a handful of people there, no one she could recognize. But it didn't appear his wife was there. Her heart hurt for him, thinking of him shouldering this devastation all alone.

She felt the tears on her cheeks and wiped them away.