Thank you for the lovely reviews and support of this story - and apologies to those of you who have been impatiently waiting for this next part haha. I'm spread a little thin across a few projects atm, but I promise I will see this story through.
Chapter 4 – A little magic
Resignedly, Rayna followed Emmy back to the table and accepted the glass of champagne that was pressed into her hand. She was still reeling from that set with Deacon, the dance, the everything, and all she had wanted to do was turn her back on it, run, evade it all for a little longer.
But shutting her eyes against all that was no longer an option. Here she was, and there he was, and she couldn't help but wonder if fate were playing a sneaky hand tonight.
Because things with Deacon had always felt like they were beyond her control. Like no matter what path she had chosen to walk in life, his would have intersected with hers. Like it was preordained that somehow, they would have collided, tangled together in some way. She'd never felt like that about anyone else, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her recent efforts to throw obstacles between them were pointless, really. Because even if she physically shoved him from her life, he was an intrinsic part of her, and that was something she could never shake.
And it was so exhausting to try.
Felt so counter-intuitive.
So, as she took a sip of her champagne, immediately followed by a second, much larger sip, she wondered if this was the universe's way of suggesting that she mend the things that she had tried to break; of gently encouraging them to get back onto the same wavelength.
By the time she realized that she was staring, he had already caught her eye and it was too late to look away. Leaning back against the bar, Deacon spread his hands and gave her a quizzical look, questioning why she hadn't left. Rayna just pursed her lips and jerked a thumb back towards the window before turning her attention back to her glass and the women around her.
Wandering over to the window, Deacon couldn't help but let out a little wondrous laugh.
They were snowed in. She was here for the night.
Snow had once felt like a good luck charm for him and Rayna – perhaps it would work its magic again for them tonight.
Caught up in guitar-talk with a few of the guys at the bar, Deacon kept one eye on Rayna.
Given her skittishness around him after that dance, he was worried that she would just slip off to bed (he assumed that someone had juggled things around and sorted a room for her) without speaking to him. After the way things had eventuated between them this evening, it felt like they had reconnected on some level, that something had opened up between them again as a result of those songs, this place, and he really wanted to use that as an opportunity to clear the air between them, to get back on the right footing.
Yes, she'd hurt him – but hadn't he already hurt her a thousand ways to Sunday?
He'd realized (well, always known, but perhaps only admitted it to himself tonight) that no matter what it might look like, he wanted Rayna Jaymes in his life and he'd take her in any way he could, even if it caused him pain, because she was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of feeling - the kind that shook your soul and scrambled your heart and flipped you upside down in the best possible way and that was just not something he could turn his back on.
Somehow, they'd been thrown together again, and he was determined not to miss this chance to sort things out with her. As he watched, she ordered another glass of wine and leaned forward into the conversation around her and slowly but surely her public persona slipped away and she relaxed into her authentic, happy, friendly self, and then Deacon relaxed too because he could see that she wasn't in any hurry to call it a night and therefore he didn't need to hurry to catch her.
A while later, a few people had sloped off to bed and the rest soon gravitated to a long table in the centre of the room. It sat 14 (15 tonight if you counted the fact that Rosie the barmaid with her wild blonde curls and her infectious smile was sitting on Bill the double bass maestro's knee down at the far end), and Deacon found himself ushered into a seat almost opposite Rayna. Her smile, when he sat down, was hesitant but genuine and it filled him with hope that maybe smoothing things over between them was on her agenda as well.
Jugs of beer and bottles of wine lined the table, and the conversation soon became lively and raucous. Quite a few of the people there were musos, and stories of tours and buses and parties were bandied about thick and fast and had everyone in stitches.
Rayna had been happy to listen rather than share until Sully, their bass guitarist from that evening's set, gave Deacon a nudge and raised his bushy brows at Rayna, his green eyes twinkling with amusement beneath. "I recall a story from way back in the day about you two and an impromptu concert on a bus!" He looked around, pausing for dramatic effect. "And when I say 'on a bus', I mean 'on a bus'!"
Rayna's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. "That's right! Oh my Lord, Sully, how do you know about that?! That was a lifetime ago!"
"Tell us!" called Hank, banging his glass on the table.
Rayna giggled and shared a lingering gaze with Deacon and he nodded. "Go on, Ray."
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and glanced up and down at the expectant faces along the table. "Ok. So, it was way back in the early days and we were on our tour bus making our way to… Denver, I think? Anyway, our bus breaks down on this dusty backroad in the middle of what felt like nowhere, and it's hot and help is a million miles away and we're all getting bored, so we decide to run through a few songs there on the side of the road, just for a little practice, a little fun. And then a car stops, then another, and another, and before we know it, there's a whole bunch of people parked up, jamming up this road, listening to us play."
Deacon chipped in. "And then this guy with a ladder on the back of his truck convinces us to climb on top of the bus."
Laughing, Rayna nodded. "Yeah! Everyone's shouting for us to do it, so me and Deac and the other guys climb on top of the bus and perform from up there!"
"And Rayna's workin' her magic, dancin' 'round on the roof until… the police came." Deacon ran a hand through his hair at the memory. "They said we were obstructing the road and causing a disturbance! So, everyone's booing, gettin' all upset, and then one of the cops recognizes Rayna and it turns out he's a huge fan, so he sets up a roadblock further down and lets us play a few more songs."
Rayna grinned. "And so we're standing there on top of this bus in God knows where, playing to this bunch of complete random people sitting on their car bonnets in the middle of the road, but honestly, it was probably one of the best concerts we've ever done!"
Everyone was laughing, imagining the picture that had just been painted for them until Deacon spoke up again.
"But!" he glanced around then waggled his eyebrows at Rayna. "That's not even the best story I have about Rayna struttin' her stuff."
Emmy sat up straight. "Now this I want to hear!"
Rayna cocked her head to one side with furrowed brow as she tried to guess what Deacon was referring to.
"Well," began Deacon, "We were in this little dive bar called Bar None in-"
"Oh my goodness, Deacon, don't you dare!"
Deacon just grinned at Rayna and flicked his brows. "Like I was sayin', we were in this bar and we had landed ourselves an opening spot for this band-"
"Who were terrible, by the way." interjected Rayna, falling into the anecdote already. "The drummer was so drunk he slipped off his stool and knocked over the hi-hat in the middle of a song."
Chuckling, Deacon gave Rayna a knowing look. "I seem to recall we were a bit messy ourselves!"
"Yeah, but at least we waited until we'd finished our set!" countered Rayna.
"Anyway," continued Deacon, "Later that night, we found ourselves in a lock-in, and the landlady – this very… sizeable, intimidating, ex-trucker named Magda, who was, I gotta say - terrifyin', had taken a liking to Ray and fed her up on a few shots of tequila and convinced her to sing again. So, Ray kicks off her shoes and climbs up onto the bar-"
Rayna gave an indignant snort. "You made me get up there! You lifted me right up!"
"Just wanted to make sure you had a stage!" replied Deacon, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
"Deacon was up there too!" Rayna declared to their audience. "Guitar in hand and all!"
Still grinning, Deacon waved a hand at her. "So, everyone was cheerin' and goin' wild, and Ray's singin' and dancin' along the bar, then she gets to one end and twirls around then slips right off-"
"Nothing to do with the tequila, by the way, there was a wet patch on the bar!" Rayna clarified with a giggle.
"-and she falls off the bar right into Magda's waitin' arms!"
"She was halfway through pouring a beer and still managed to catch me!"
By this time, Deacon could barely contain his mirth. "All Magda's Christmases came at once that night! I bet she's never forgotten it!"
"She saved my life!" stated Rayna, trying to maintain a straight face, but soon dissolved into laughter along with everyone else at the table.
She and Deacon shared a look that was more layered than either of them had time to decipher, and before they could try to, Deacon spoke again.
"And, of course, there was the time that-"
"Deacon Claybourne! That is enough!" laughed Rayna, pressing the back of her hand to her cheek. "I've got a reputation to uphold!"
"I bet you two have more stories to tell than the rest of us put together!" remarked Emmy, gazing between them fondly. "I bet your stories could fill a book!"
Deacon nodded slowly, a misty expression descending on his face. "We sure have a lot of history."
Dropping for a moment into nostalgic reverie that she hadn't let herself indulge in for a very long time, Rayna quickly snapped herself out of it before she could fall too far and stood up, ready to pass the attention onto someone else. "Hank, I'm sure you've got some stories to tell! Let's hear them!" And as eyes turned to Hank, she slipped off in the direction of the bathrooms.
When she reemerged, Rayna paused for a moment in the doorway and could see that the retelling of stories was still in full swing at the table. And then she spotted Deacon standing alone at the bar with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in hand.
She stared and she sighed.
This whole night had caused feelings and memories that had been carefully stacked away on carefully guarded shelves for so long to be shaken and upended and although she was still afraid to look at what was trickling down around her, she knew that, at the very least, it was time to make things right with Deacon.
"You won't sleep." she remarked lightly as she approached, leaning on the bar next to him.
Deacon shot her a sideways glance. "Y'always say that, yet I always do."
And then they both smiled a little because Deacon's love for coffee in the evening had always baffled Rayna. Caffeine after 2pm and she was jittering until the wee hours, but he would happily down a cup any time before midnight and still be asleep before her once they went to bed.
He took a sip from his mug then motioned to the bar.
"You want somethin'?"
Initially, Rayna shook her head. "No, I'm ok. I've had a couple of wines already and…" Then she glanced up at Deacon and felt the jumble of emotions in her chest knot and pull, and although she usually didn't drink much – especially not around Deacon - suddenly it felt like another wine was a very good idea. "Screw it. I'll have a chardonnay."
Deacon just nodded and ordered for her, knowing that this was Rayna trying to calm herself after the intensity of the evening. They both turned to lean their elbows on the bar, and silence draped around them for a long but not uncomfortable moment until Deacon asked, "Are we ok?" at the same time that Rayna said, "I'm sorry, Deacon."
His eyebrows shot up because the last thing he'd expected to hear from her was a straight up apology and he certainly wasn't going to let that slip by.
"For what, Ray?" he pressed.
She gave a slow shrug and picked up her wine glass. "For the way things are." She gazed down at her glass as she twirled it around in her fingers. "For putting us here. It doesn't… feel right."
"No." he agreed, and he was ready to lay it out. "No, it don't. It was real hard, Ray, you lettin' me go from the band. After all these years. After everythin'. Thought music was the one place where we'd always be on the same page."
"It is…" insisted Rayna, not able to meet his eyes. "Of course it is, but it's… it's not that I don't want to play music with you…"
"Then what?"
She sighed and drew a hand across her face, her eyes still on the golden liquid in her glass. "Just that… after all these years, after everything, sometimes it… it hurts to be around you, Deacon."
"Huh." he breathed, his expression a mix of understanding and sorrow and he rubbed his fingers over his mouth. That made complete sense because he too was very well versed in the conflicting mix of both need and torment that came from being around her.
"But…" she said.
He froze at that, expectant.
"But… I know now that it hurts so much more to… to be away from you. So…"
"So?" he asked, breathless.
Rayna shrugged helplessly. "So… I don't know. I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"Ray, I-"
"You two!" came the interruption of Sully's voice. "Get over here, we got pizza!"
Deacon gave her a wistful look. It probably wasn't the time or the place to delve any deeper than this anyway. He gestured for her to follow him, but she grabbed his hand and stopped him, then, unexpectedly, slid her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, desperately, and with a sharp intake of breath and a tightening of his chest, he wrapped his arms around her as well.
"I'm sorry too, Ray." he whispered against her hair. And he was. For so many things. More than he could even count.
He pulled away first, quickly blinking back his emotion, and tapped her elbow. "C'mon." he smiled. "They got pizza."
Rayna nodded and sniffed and smiled right back and knew that all the apologies and forgiveness that they needed for now had just passed between them and the spiky layers that they had thrown down had been stripped away.
The long table was crowded, but whether or not that was the reason they were sitting so close to one another this time was anyone's guess. With one thigh pressed against Deacon's, Rayna hadn't noticed how hungry she was until boards of freshly cooked pizzas from the woodfired oven were laid out in front of them and the smell made her mouth water. Helping herself to a slice, she was soon caught up in conversation with the two women to her left and didn't even think twice before handing her crust to Deacon, who devoured it without even thinking, and in turn, Deacon automatically picked the olives off his pizza and placed them on Rayna's plate, because that's how it had always been between them. That's what they'd always done.
Bellies were full and casual conversation stirred up again and Rayna downed the last of her wine, making a face.
"I should probably drink some water."
"C'mon." Deacon stood up. "Let's get you some."
Rayna was only a little tipsy if anything, but Deacon took the chance to link his arm through hers and guide her to the bar all the same. God, she was cute as hell with her rosy cheeks and that languid way she tipped her head back a little to look at him and that permanent smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Damn. If he wasn't careful, he'd been needing water too. A whole, ice-cold bath full.
"Here, Ray." He slid a glass across the bar to her. "You good?"
"Yeah." she said, a slow syllable. "No more wine. It's making me tired." Then, suddenly thinking of something, she glanced down at the white shirt she was wearing and snapped her gaze back up to Deacon's. "Oh! I need to go to my car. I think I have a spare t-shirt in there that I can sleep in."
"What? You ain't goin' out there! It's snowin'!"
"But I need my t-shirt." she repeated, blinking widely.
Deacon rolled his eyes. "Yeah? So you're gonna go soak the clothes you got on in the snow and catch your death just for a t-shirt? That's crazy talk. I got a shirt you can wear in my bag upstairs."
"I'm not wearing your shirt!" protested Rayna, probably more because she felt she had to, and Deacon resisted the urge to say anything because they both knew that Rayna had always loved wearing his shirts.
"Got stuff over here." chimed in Rosie from behind the bar as she stacked the glasses. "Here, look, Ambrose Inn merchandise!"
She produced a cream-coloured sweater that had a small version of the Ambrose's logo on the upper left side. "Looks about your size. On the house!" Rosie declared cheerily, tossing it to Rayna.
"Rosie, pass us those pens, would ya?" asked Deacon, pointing to a jar of markers on the counter. He then spread the sweater out on the bar and picked up a green marker, popping the lid with his teeth.
"What are you doing?" asked Rayna curiously, moving a little closer.
Deacon just shot her a conspiratorial grin, then started to draw. A few minutes later a big green snowman surrounded by red snowflakes adorned the front of the sweatshirt, and on the back…
"What is that?!" laughed Rayna.
"Clearly it's a reindeer!" proclaimed Deacon in mock offense.
"It looks like a peanut with a face!"
Deacon gave her a playful swat on the arm. "It's got antlers! Anyway, here. Your festivewear."
"This is actually one of the better looking sweaters that you've given me." remarked Rayna, snickering again at the pictures before she pulled it on.
They used to give each other a Christmas sweater every year, the uglier the better. The one that was the carryover champion was a knitted piece that Rayna had found for Deacon with a terrifying 'Santa' on the front that looked more like some kind of evil devil spawn. Deacon had only been able to wear it for ten minutes before Rayna ripped it off him, declaring that it was zapping all the Christmas joy.
To be fair, in those days that was the fate of every Christmas sweater they'd worn around one another – tossed to the floor in front of the fire.
Along with the rest of their clothes.
Rayna quickly pushed those memories from her head before she could focus too much on that warm throb in her belly.
"Now I've got to do one for you!"
"Nope." laughed Deacon. "No, you don't! You're even worse at drawin' than I am! C'mon."
He grabbed her hand and led her towards the roaring fire, where Sully and Bill were plucking soft tunes on their guitars, and he dropped down onto the double sofa, Rayna sinking down next to him, not bothering to leave any space between them.
She'd missed this. Missed him. Missed the ease and familiarity they had with one another. And it wasn't just familiarity that came from knowing someone so well for so long, it was the kind that came from two souls that were intertwined, two hearts aligned, two pieces of a whole.
There were so many thoughts jumbling in her head – her, Deacon, Teddy, the girls, the past, the future, the responsibilities and uncertainties and confusion and mess of it all…
But she was done sorting through her head tonight.
All that could wait until tomorrow.
Tonight, she was only going with what felt right, what felt good, a little bit of self-indulgence, a little bit of soul food.
And here, right now, for the first time in a long time, she felt full.
A tap on her shoulder brought her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Emmy standing behind her.
"Rayna, we're gonna head off to bed now, but we'll take Uncle Dale in with us – there's a pull out sofa in our room – and you can have his room tonight, ok?"
"Oh no, Emmy, that's not necessary, I couldn't-"
Emmy waved a hand at her. "Course you can, it's no trouble at all."
"No, no, really, I -"
"She can have my bed." Deacon interjected, and both Emmy and Rayna turned to him, matching expressions of surprise on their faces. He shrugged and patted the back of the couch. "I've got my eye on this spot here, anyway. Looks like the best bed in the house!"
"Oh Deacon, no, you don't need to do that!" protested Emmy.
Deacon arched a brow. "Emmy, we ain't gonna let ya have your uncle bunking in with you on your anniversary!"
Emmy immediately flushed and pressed a hand to her mouth as she giggled. "Oh my goodness, Deacon!" Then she nodded in concession. "Alright, well yes, that will probably be better for everyone – thank you, I'll let Uncle Dale know that he doesn't have to listen to Hank's snoring after all. Good night then, and thanks again for such an incredible performance."
Making her way back to the bar, Emmy slipped her arm around Hank.
"This was a wonderful night."
He nodded and hugged his wife against him. "Even better than the night we met here all them years ago."
"Didn't we always say that there was something magical about this place?"
"Sure did."
Emmy looked pointedly back over towards Rayna and Deacon sitting so close, heads turned to one another in hushed conversation, Deacon's arm resting on the back of the couch behind Rayna as he absentmindedly twirled a lock of her hair around his fingers.
Emmy bit back a smile. "Seems like maybe that magic is still as strong as ever."