Chapter Nine

On Tour

A/N: I've been managing to update this once or twice a week, but I'll be traveling next week so don't expect a new chapter for a couple of weeks. Hope you enjoy this one, and thanks once again to Shiny Jewel for beta-reading.

Rayna pulled her chair up in front of a desktop computer, laid her purse and coffee cup down next to her and logged into her AOL account. She was in the third floor business lounge at Pittsburgh's Marriott City Center hotel and it was late morning. They had driven through the night and checked in here early. It was the next-to-last day of their tour.

She began scrolling through the long list of emails that were piled up in her in-box. Within minutes, an IM popped up on her screen.

DaveR75: Good morning! How's the tour going?

RayJ: Good morning to you too, from lovely downtown – where are we? Oh. Right – Pittsburgh.

DaveR75: Man, your tour's just hitting ALL the highlights, isn't it?

RayJ: You know it. :) So what's going on?

DaveR75: Not much. Got a stack of mail here for you. Oh, and I'm collecting those tabloids like you wanted.

RayJ: OK. Thanks.

DaveR75: I'll leave them on your kitchen counter when I water your plants today.

RayJ: I'm almost afraid to ask - how bad are they?

DaveR75: Read 'em and weep. BabyMama. :)

RayJ: WTH?! Who said that?

DaveR75: You really want me to share? I don't want to ruin your day …

RayJ: Yeah, go ahead.

DaveR75: Okay. Let's see… I'll give you some headlines.

DaveR75: "She's Havin' His Baby!"

DaveR75: "Prince - Or Princess - For the Queen of Country?"

DaveR75: Yes. Three question marks. Front page. Nice pic of you and the BabyDaddy.

RayJ: BabyDaddy? Very funny.

RayJ: You bastard. :)

DaveR75: LOL. Don't blame me, blame the headline writers at the Weekly World Star. Or maybe it's the World Weekly Star.

DaveR75: It says, "Deacon Is My BabyDaddy!" They've got a pic with that one too. You and your sister - out shopping, maybe? Looks like it was taken with a long lens.

RayJ: What?!

DaveR75: There's an arrow drawn in, pointing to your – um, they're calling it your "baby bump."

Rayna slammed her palm down on the desk in front of her. "What the hell?! Oh my gosh - that's just creepy!"

"Hey."

Rayna looked up, startled. Deacon was just walking in, a newspaper tucked under one arm and a coffee cup in his hand. He took a seat at a computer two desks over. "Hey, babe," she said. "What're you doing here?"

"Checkin' my email."

Rayna cocked an eyebrow at him, skeptical. "You do email?"

"Yeah. I do. Jill got me on it, so we can keep in touch while I'm on the road."

"Well. I guess wonders never will cease, will they?" she said, with a teasing smile.

"Guess not. What's got you so riled up over there?"

"Oh, the damn tabloids. You can't believe what those gossip rags are saying about us."

"Nothin' that bunch ever does'll surprise me, darlin'. Why're you botherin' with that crap, anyway? Just leave it alone. That's the best thing."

"I want to know what they're putting out there – don't you?"

"Not really," Deacon shrugged, sounding like he actually meant it.

"Well, I care what people are saying about us, Deacon. I knew once Edgehill sent out that press release all kinds of outlandish stories were going to get published. And I knew the PR department would try to keep the worst of it away from me. So I asked Dave to pick up the tabloids while I'm gone."

"That's cause Edgehill knows you don't need to see that junk, Ray. And Dave oughta know that too. All that bullshit is the last thing you need to be worryin' about."

Rayna studied him. Was he annoyed - or jealous? Probably both. She turned back to the computer screen.

RayJ: I can only imagine the gossip machine gearing up in Belle Meade right about now. I bet they're all talking about what a scandalous woman I am, having a baby out of wedlock. Ugh.

DaveR75: To hell with those snobs.

DaveR75: Right?

RayJ: Yes. Thanks.

DaveR75: So, what's on your agenda today?

RayJ: Another sold-out concert tonight, headed to Philly tomorrow night, then home. Can't wait to get back.

DaveR75: Hey – my pager's going off. Gotta run. Come over for dinner when you get home? Kim wants to meet you.

Kim. Rayna had to admit that the pang she felt in her stomach wasn't the baby.

RayJ: Sure. I'd love to have dinner with you two. Talk next week?

DaveR75: Definitely. Have a great show tonight.

RayJ: Thanks.

DaveR75: BabyMama. :)

RayJ: Shut up!

She was laughing as she logged out of her AOL account and clicked off the computer. Dave had a way of making even the worst things seem like no big deal. He was so light-hearted and easy-going; nothing ever seemed to faze him. She sighed. If things were different. He was awfully cute. She rolled her chair back and looked over in Deacon's direction. He was busily typing with two fingers.

"Hey, you want to grab some breakfast?" she asked.

He didn't look up. "Uh … why don't you go ahead, Ray. Maybe I'll meet you down there. Or I'll see you at sound check later. I need to look up some meetin' times. Frank and Randy want to catch one with me today. And I need to get some times and addresses for Philly, too."

She watched him for a minute. "Okay, babe," she said, pushing her chair back and picking up her things. She tried to keep her tone neutral, but Deacon's ears pricked up. He looked over at her, concerned.

"You okay, Ray? What's wrong?"

Nothing. I'm fine."

He looked at her for a while, then turned away. "Okay. Have a good day, darlin'."

Rayna walked out of the small room and down to the restaurant in the lobby. As long as she'd known him, she could hardly remember a time when Deacon had turned down an invitation to spend time with her. She sat at a table and ordered a veggie omelet with fruit and a glass of skim milk, trying not to mind eating alone. She certainly had been wrong about this tour.

Of course, Jill had been right - as usual. Rayna hadn't given Deacon enough credit. He was more committed to pursuing sobriety than she'd ever seen him before. For the past week, he and two members of their equipment crew, Frank and Randy, had been spending most of their free time either at AA meetings, or talking together about recovery. Deacon had even taken to riding on the crew bus and hanging out with them after the show.

Rayna knew she should be happy – thrilled, actually – about this turn of events. Deacon was trying – really, really trying – this time, and she would much rather he be at an AA meeting than drinking in a bar.

But she missed him. She'd always been the one he talked to, the person he confided in, his best friend. Now, she felt like he was keeping things from her, important things about his recovery. He wouldn't tell her anything about what had him so tortured lately, and that hurt.

She knew it was selfish, but she couldn't help it. So much of the fun of touring had always been about being with him. They'd written a lot of their best songs together on buses or in dressing rooms, waiting to go on stage. Now, it seemed like their two hours on stage every night was practically all the time they got together.

And even there, things were different. The first part of their set was mostly old favorites – the love ballads that they'd been writing and performing for a decade, enhanced now by her pregnancy. They had come up with some gentle, teasing between-song banter that addressed their first child's imminent arrival, with Deacon's mention of her father and his shotgun always getting the biggest laugh. To start the second half of the show, which focused more on her solo numbers, she did a knock 'em dead rendition of "This Love Ain't Big Enough." As Deacon had predicted, that effectively killed off any romantic mood still lingering in the room. She had recorded the song as part of her upcoming album, "Rayna Jaymes: Locked and Loaded," and Edgehill had released it as a single in advance of the tour. It was an audience favorite, already getting radio airplay and quickly climbing the country charts.

By the time the show finished, it was usually after 10 p.m. and Rayna was exhausted. She had declared herself unavailable for late night meet-and-greets and usually just put in a brief appearance at the after-show party backstage. In each city, Bucky had scheduled press and radio interviews in the afternoons. She'd always kind of enjoyed giving interviews, but these sessions were just embarrassing. They always started with questions about the baby and her relationship with Deacon. Why weren't they getting married? What did her fans think about her being a single mother? Was he finally sober? Wasn't "This Love Ain't Big Enough" autobiographical? A lot of it was downright insulting.

With everyone else partying, Rayna usually went back to the bus alone after the show. On the first night of the tour, Deacon had opened the door and stepped inside a few minutes after she'd arrived, while she was getting undressed. She had reached for her robe and they'd tried not to stare at each other as they got ready to sleep in separate beds. But the next few minutes were supremely awkward. They fumbled through some small talk and both of them over-apologized when they brushed up against each other accidentally as they moved around in the tight quarters.

By the time she escaped into the master suite and closed the door, she was completely rattled. The next night, she got back even earlier, hoping to be settled in her room before he got there. But then he hadn't shown up at all. She had lain awake terrified, wondering whether he had gone out partying, for more than an hour. Finally, she heard him moving around, trying to be quiet. She realized that he'd stayed away so he wouldn't have to be alone with her again.

It was strange: She knew him so well that she recognized his footsteps. Yet she was starting to feel like she didn't know him at all.


Deacon watched Rayna walk out of the business lounge and sighed. He hated turning down her breakfast offer, especially when it made her look so sad. But he knew that his tenuous hold on sobriety depended on doing things differently, especially on tour. If he let down his guard, lost his focus, he knew he'd put himself at risk of backsliding and losing all the progress he'd been making. So far, things had been going fairly well. He was talking to Gus a couple of times a day, discussing some things that were starting to feel like breakthroughs about his past. For the first time, he was realizing that much of what had happened to him hadn't been his fault. And he was starting to believe that maybe – just maybe – he wasn't as worthless as he'd always believed.

Between those conversations, attending AA meetings in every city, and the mentoring he was getting from the two best crew guys he'd ever worked with, Deacon almost didn't miss going out drinking after the show. Almost.

He did miss Rayna, though. But it seemed that with every day that passed, she was pulling further and further away from him. He knew she was trying to give him space to concentrate on his recovery, and he knew he should be grateful for that. She was only protecting herself – and the baby – from the possibility that he wouldn't be able to stay sober. He knew that was necessary. His own mother hadn't been able to protect him and his sister from their drunken, abusive father. Much as he loved her, he had always resented her for that. But still, it felt like he and Rayna were growing apart, not getting closer. And they didn't have a lot of time to put their relationship back together if they were going to be more than polite, amiable co-parents.

Rayna just seemed so … self-sufficient, lately. It shouldn't surprise him, but it did. She'd always been a tough person outwardly, but she'd always leaned on him emotionally. It had been the two of them against the world, ever since they'd met. But now, it wasn't just the two of them anymore. It was Rayna and the baby. And Jill. And Tandy. And… Dave. It seemed like she was relying on everyone in her life but him.

He knew this feeling wasn't particularly unusual. He had heard from plenty of his musician buddies who'd become fathers about how they felt left out – like third wheels – when their wives or girlfriends were pregnant. He just wished he could do something more for Rayna, be more involved in her life. But every time he asked how he could help, it felt like she firmly shut him out. It felt like she didn't need him anymore.

And then, of course, there was the supreme frustration of being near her, and wanting her, and not being able to have her. Between not drinking and not having sex, Deacon felt like he was going to lose it sometimes. And it certainly wasn't helping their relationship. In the past, he'd always known that when things got rocky between them he could take her to bed and they would talk afterwards and everything would be okay. But now that non-verbal communication was no longer an option – and god only knew how long that was going to last – he felt like he didn't know how to reach her. It was hell being around her all the time, especially in the close quarters on the bus. After that first night, when he'd watched her go into the master suite and close the door between them, he had tried to avoid being alone with her. He just couldn't take it.


He was walking up the sidewalk. He was following someone. It was a girl. It was his sister, he realized suddenly. He called her name, trying to get her to turn around, but she wouldn't. She looked like she was carrying something. He wanted to know what it was. But she wouldn't stop. In fact, she was moving away from him faster, receding into the distance, skipping now. Her legs were longer than his and he started running to keep up with her. Finally, she spun around.

"Look what I found! It followed me!"

In her arms was a tiny gray kitten, mewing and squirming. He looked at it, filled with wonder. He smiled and stuck out his finger. The kitten swiped at it with her paw and he laughed. "Hey there, little one," he said.

Then he realized that he needed to warn her. "Don't take it in the house!" he shouted.

But it was too late. They were in the kitchen and his mother was crying and wringing her hands. "What are we going to do?" she asked over and over, in a quavering voice. And then he was there. Deacon couldn't see his face but he could hear his father bellowing angrily and his sister, screaming, "NO! No, you can't take her away! You can't!" Deacon tried to get in front of him, to block him, to give his sister time to run away. But his father picked him up by the back of his overalls. He felt himself flying across the room. He skidded into the wall, banging the side of his head and his right shoulder, hard.

He looked up. It was getting dark and no one was around. He walked from room to room, increasingly frantic, but the house was empty. The furniture, his grandmother's piano - even the paint-by-number art his mother had framed so proudly and placed on the walls - was missing. He knew that he needed to get upstairs – up to the attic to find her. He didn't want to be all alone. He dragged out the heavy ladder, but it was wobbly and there was no one to hold it for him. He managed to get to the top rung, but when he reached up to push the attic door open, he lost his balance.

And then he was falling – and falling – and falling. His arms were flailing and his head was spinning.

Rayna sat up, awakened from a deep sleep by an anguished yell. She recognized the sound immediately. She threw her covers back and, without stopping to put on a robe, hurried barefoot out of the master suite. Deacon had flung back the privacy curtain on his bunk and he was propped up on his elbows in bed, leaning forward and panting. Other than the two of them, the bus was deserted.

Rayna went to him and put her hands on his arms. "Babe, it's just a dream," she said. "You're okay."

He was shaking. "He drowned it," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "That poor girl. He drowned her damn cat." He rubbed his hands over his face, realizing suddenly that this was the first time in years that he'd awoken from a nightmare and remembered it afterwards.

Rayna looked at him, confused. "What?"

He took in a deep breath and exhaled noisily, puffing out his cheeks. "Nothin'. I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to wake you up." But Rayna was already disappearing into the bathroom off her suite. She emerged a moment later, carrying a wet, wadded up washcloth.

He watched her walk toward him. She was wearing a short pink top and matching pink shorts. Babydoll PJ's, she called them.

He didn't realize he was staring but he must have been. "I get hot, in bed at night," she said, quickly clarifying: "Temperature hot. This baby's like carrying around a heater in my belly." She leaned over him and ran her hand over the sheets on his bunk. "Sit up, babe. You're all sweaty and your bed is soaked. I'll get some clean sheets and change it for you."

"Nah, you don't need to do that," he said, slipping out of the covers. He was wearing nothing but his red plaid boxers. He felt her eyes on him as he pulled his bed covers up and flipped his pillow over. "I'll sleep on top. I got an extra blanket I can use if I need to."

He sat back on the edge of his bunk and she perched herself next to him, reaching over to wipe his forehead with the damp cloth and then drawing it slowly over his neck and shoulders. He shivered slightly, but not from the cold. "Thanks. I'm okay now."

Rayna sat still beside him for a moment and then stood up. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." He looked up at her. He was unable to read the look on her face.

"All right, then. Good night, Deacon."

She started to walk back to her suite. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, gripping the edge of his mattress.

"Don't go."

She stopped and turned to look at him. "What?"

He opened his eyes. She looked like she wasn't sure what he was asking of her. Neither was he.

"Please. Just … sit and keep me company for a few minutes, Ray. Will you? I don't want to be alone."

She hesitated just a moment before responding. "Sure." She looked dubiously at his narrow bunk, then glanced up at the empty bunk above his, seemingly judging whether she could sit up there.

"No," he said quickly. "I don't want you climbin' up there." He gestured to the bunk across from his. "Charlie was talkin' to a real cute-lookin' girl after the show tonight. He won't be back for a couple hours at least."

"Really?"

"Well, we've been on the road what – nine days now? He hasn't struck out yet. I expect he'll come stumblin' in right around sunrise."

Rayna rolled her eyes and shook her head, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she contemplated the messy sheets on their bass guitarist's bunk.

"Here," Deacon said, getting up and walking into her suite. He pulled the coverlet off her bed and threw it on top of Charlie's bunk, smoothing it out for her. "There you go," he said. "How's that?"

"Better," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bunk across from him. He sat down too, but the aisle between the bunks was so narrow that their bare knees knocked together. Rayna drew her legs up underneath her and lay down on her side, facing him. He did the same. They looked at each other for a moment.

"Kind of like old times, touring together again, huh?"

"Old times?" He laughed shortly, looking at her like she was crazy. "Darlin' if this was old times, I'd be stretched out in that nice big bed back there with you right beside me, 'stead of bein' squeezed into this little bunk."

"Oh, you poor thing."

"Kinda lonesome back there all by yourself, ain't it?" he asked, grinning slyly.

"Yeah, I guess," she said, grinning back. "Hey, remember on our first tour, the guys got so sick of you sneaking out of my suite in the middle of the night, that they put a – what was it, a bullfrog? - in your bunk? You got in between those sheets real quiet, thinking you were fooling everybody, and then you let out a string of cuss words like I've never heard come out of your mouth before or since. You would have made a sailor blush."

"A frog? Hell, darlin', I don't have a problem sharing a bunk with a bullfrog. I'll do that any time. Those damn idiots put a fuckin' snake in my bed!"

Rayna was laughing hard. "Oh my gosh, that's right! I thought you'd lost your mind. The guys were practically falling out of their bunks by the time I came out to see what the commotion was."

"Yeah, very funny," Deacon said, rolling his eyes. "Least I didn't have to do any more sneakin' around after that."

"I don't know who we thought we were fooling, anyway."

"Well, we can't fool anybody anymore, that's for sure," he said, looking at her stomach. It was only barely covered by her pajama top.

She paused a moment, then spoke up. "So Deacon, what is it, anyway?"

"What's what?"

"What is it that's got you so torn up? I mean, you're losing weight, you're having nightmares, you're totally avoiding me. What's going on?"

He sighed. "Rayna, I just … I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Please don't shut me out, Deacon," she said, her eyes pleading with him.

"I don't mean to be doin' that, darlin'. It's just - once I open that door it's hard to close it. And that's all I been talkin' about lately. I can't do it tonight."

"You're talking about … what happened to you when you were a kid. With your father. Right? Was there … abuse?"

He looked at her sharply, his eyes wide. "Where'd you hear that!?"

"Jill," she confessed. "I mean, she didn't tell me anything. She just mentioned that word a while back and I've been wondering about it. She said you gave her permission to share some things with me. About your treatment."

He softened. "Yeah, I did. I forgot about that."

"She said you listed me as your next-of-kin."

"Mmm-hmm. You're the closest thing I have to family, Ray."

"That's not true, babe. You've got your mother. And your sister. And your niece."

"I know. And they mean the world to me. But my mama's never been a strong woman, you know that. And my sister's got enough to worry about, raisin' that little girl alone, never havin' enough money to really live comfortable. I haven't done right by them."

"That's not true, Deacon. You send them money every month."

He shifted his gaze away. "Yeah. Unless I drink up all the money before the end of the month."

"You did your best–" she started, but he cut her off.

"My best wasn't good enough, Ray."

They lay quietly for a moment. Then Rayna sighed and shifted onto her back.

"What's the matter?"

She looked over at him. "C'mere," she said quietly. He froze. What was she asking? She brought her knees up, braced her feet on the mattress and tilted her pelvis skyward. He watched, riveted. Then she gathered the material of her pajama top and pulled it up so it was bunched just below her breasts. He stared at her naked belly, his heart racing. He knew her once-familiar midsection would look different, but he was shocked by how big it was already. She smiled softly at him. "C'mere," she repeated, holding her hand out to him.

He looked into her eyes, his mind racing, still unsure. Did she want him to get into that bunk with her and …?

"Give me your hand," she said, finding his wrist and pulling it toward her, placing his palm against the side of her tummy. "I don't know if you'll be able to feel it; it might be too soon. But the baby's kicking up a storm right now."

"Oh," he breathed, trying not to sound as surprised as he felt. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She gazed into the distance and she waited, as if she were listening for something.

"There," she said, finally. "Feel that?"

"No."

"Wait. Hang on." She moved his hand higher up and looked over at him. "There it is. Can you feel it?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "I don't feel a thing."

"Hmmm," she said, yawning and turning back onto her side, facing him. "It's probably too soon. The baby's still too little. We'll have to wait a few weeks and try again."

She sighed deeply and he saw that her eyelids were getting heavy. His hand was trapped between her stomach and the mattress but he left it there, not wanting to break contact. She looked so young, lying there with her lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed and her tousled hair falling softly over her shoulders. His eyes moved down her body. Her top was still hitched up, but it had twisted slightly when she had rolled over. The soft underside of her breasts was exposed underneath it.

He was nearly undone by the sight. It certainly hadn't escaped him that she was larger than usual on top but he hadn't realized exactly how much bigger her breasts were until now. Until they were right here in front of him. If he stared hard enough, he discovered, he could just make out the darker shade of her nipples grazing the underside of the fabric.

A dizzying wave of desire gripped him. It had been so long since he had taken her into his arms. He wanted nothing more than to slide his hand up under that top and pull it over her head. To kiss her and bury himself inside her softness, where he had taken refuge so many times. He looked back up at her face. Her eyelids had fluttered shut and she was breathing softly. He had seen the way she was looking at him while she drew the washcloth along his shoulders. Surely if he slid over there next to her and put his hands on her - oh so gently - she would not push him away.

He felt something like a tremor run between them and he looked at his hand, still resting palm up under the right side of her stomach. There. He felt it again. He glanced down at her legs, thinking that her muscles were twitching as she relaxed. But she was lying perfectly still.

Thump.

Suddenly, it felt like time stopped and nothing else in the world existed. Nothing but this moment, as the reality of what was happening dawned over him, ever so slowly. He held his breath, afraid to move. Every other thought fled instantly out of his head and it was as if he had only one purpose in life - to feel it again. He had never wanted anything so much. Not even a drink.

He waited. And waited.

And then - there it was again. Just the faintest suggestion of movement against his palm, tiny but definitely there. He waited a moment and it happened again: thump… thump.

His eyes widened and a grin of amazement broke out over his face. This thing, this intangible pull that had been there between Rayna and him for so many years, the love that they had nurtured and cherished - it was here. It was becoming real. Becoming a child. Their child.

He realized suddenly that Rayna had understood this for months; had been bonding with their baby all this time. No wonder they were already a team. But for him, this was the first moment that the idea of a baby really seemed possible.

This was the moment that Deacon Claybourne, completely unexpectedly and completely irrevocably, fell head-over-heels in love with his child.

Joy flooded through him. For a moment, he wanted to keep the feeling to himself. Then he wanted more than anything to share it with the woman he loved. As slowly and carefully as he could, so as not to move his hand, he slid off his bunk and knelt on the floor in front of her. "Rayna," he whispered.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him sleepily. "Huh?"

"I think I can feel it. I think the kid's kickin' me."

She waited a moment, meeting his eyes, then she nodded. "Yeah. It sure is."

They looked at each other, smiling ear-to-ear, and waited expectantly.

Thump … thump, thump, thump.

Deacon laughed, unable to hold the happiness inside any longer. Rayna laughed along with him and reached out, taking his other hand in her own.

They waited a while longer, feeling wondrously alive. The baby kicked a few more times, delighting them anew with every small movement.

"It must've gone back to sleep," Rayna said finally.

"They sleep?"

"Yeah. I mean, I guess. That's what I've been reading anyway."

"Huh." He looked down at her, his heart so full of love he could hardly stand it. He pulled his hand free of her stomach and ran a finger down her cheek, then smoothed her hair back, caressing her neck and back.

As they stared into each other's eyes something passed between them; an understanding. That gulf, the one that had separated them since the morning she'd thrown his ring off, was gone.

It had closed tonight, with a soft thump.

"Hey," he said. "We better get you back to bed, doncha' think?"

"I think I'll just sleep here tonight."

"Charlie'd get a pretty big surprise, seein' you when he comes wanderin' in here," Deacon said.

"Well at least I'd be better than a snake in his bed. "

He laughed. "I'm just scared the bastard'll pass out on top of you."

"Okay. I guess I'd better get back to that big old lonesome bed then."

She swung her legs over the bunk and reached for him. He helped her into a sitting position, grabbing her bedspread and sliding her pajama top back down over her stomach when it hitched up again. "Ready?" She nodded and he pulled her up to stand next to him. She wobbled a little and he put his arms around her to steady her. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little light-headed. It happens sometimes when I first get up." He walked her to the door of the master suite and stopped. She turned toward him, still in his embrace. "Good night, Deacon," she said, looking up at him. "Sleep tight."

"Night, sweetheart," he said, placing his hands on her face and kissing her forehead. Then he rested his forehead against hers. Both of them looked down, grinning. He placed his hand lightly on top of her tummy. "G'night, little one," he said softly.

She kissed his cheek. "See you in the morning, babe."

"I'll be here, darlin'."

"Good."