Deacon
It felt like he and Rayna had called an unspoken truce in the days leading up to Thanksgiving. Truthfully, he thought they both felt a little beat up by the heated exchange they'd had in the aftermath of the contract reveal. He hesitated to call it an argument, because he wanted to believe that it maybe had opened up the lines of communication, but it was hard to know because Rayna had been very low key since then. She was not herself, that was clear, but there was no fighting, no arguments, just kind of a quiet interaction without highs or lows.
She took Maddie to Lamar's for Thanksgiving lunch. She had asked if he wanted to come, and he'd said he'd rather not and she'd just nodded and left it alone. He ate leftover Chinese food and then went back to the music room. It was the one place in the house where he felt most comfortable. The day before he'd had a sound guy come out to rough out plans for a studio. It wouldn't be large but there would be recording spaces and sound equipment that would allow for the recording of demos and scratch tracks. The work wouldn't start until after the first of the year.
The room itself was the most put together space in the whole house. That it was totally music based was probably why he liked it so much. Rayna had commissioned a mural with a musical score for one wall of the room. On the remaining walls they'd hung her gold and platinum albums as well as tour posters and other memorabilia. Her awards were on bookshelves. He had 2, both of which were for Song of the Year, but those were overshadowed by the CMAs, ACMs and Grammys Rayna had won over the years. Old guitar cases and other old tour gear were displayed along with most of his guitars, a keyboard, and a piano. They had put their old living room furniture in the music room and had a low profile writing table that had been built for them to use for songwriting. There hadn't been a lot of time to write since they'd been in this house, but he saw a couple of Rayna's notebooks on the table.
He had one of his own notebooks and tossed it onto the table. He walked around the room, looking for the right guitar. He decided on a Martin acoustic flat-top, one he particularly liked to use when he wrote. He started with just working on some riffs and bridges, then tried to work on lyrics. He was drawing a blank and started looking back at some of the random lines he'd written down as possible future song ideas. There was something from a song he and Rayna had started working on when he was home on a break in September, but he just felt stuck. When he thought about what was going on that he could write about all he could come up with was the discord between him and Rayna and he didn't really want to write about that. Frustrated, he went back and wrote down the chord sequences he'd come up with and then got up and put the guitar back on its stand.
He stood in the room, feeling at loose ends, then finally sprawled out on the couch and fell into a restless sleep.
"Daddy." He was startled awake by the whispered word, and he opened his eyes to see Maddie kneeling on the floor beside him. She smiled when she saw he was awake. "Did you miss me?" she asked.
He smiled back and then reached for her, pulling her up on the couch next to him. "'Course I did," he said with a chuckle. "How was Paw Paw's?"
She glanced over his head, then back at him. Cupping one hand next to her mouth she whispered, "Boring."
He looked back over the couch and saw Rayna standing there. She nodded. "She's right. It was kinda boring," she said with an indulgent smile.
He sat up then. "I'm sorry it wasn't more fun. It was kinda boring here too."
Rayna walked around and sat down next to him. "Were you writing?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Trying. Not real successfully though."
She rubbed the back of his arm. "Well, maybe we could try sometime."
He looked at her. She seemed so hopeful. He smiled. "Maybe so."
She looked around him then. "Maddie, honey, it's past time for your nap. Can I take you upstairs?"
Maddie shook her head. "I want Daddy to," she exclaimed.
He smiled apologetically at Rayna, then turned back to Maddie. "Okay then, let's go, girl," he said. He stood up and reached for her.
"Piggyback, Daddy!" she cried. He laughed and swung her onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he hooked his arms under her legs. Then he headed out of the music room.
When he came back downstairs, Rayna was in the kitchen. She was still dressed in the long-sleeved forest green dress she had worn over to her father's house. It was very unlike her stage outfits – the neckline was high and the dress hit just above her knees. It was plain, without embellishment of any kind, and hugged her body. She could still take his breath away no matter what she wore. She looked over at him when she heard his footsteps.
"Sounds like I didn't miss much," he said, leaning against the counter.
"To be honest, without you there, there just wasn't much in the way of fireworks that Daddy could drum up." She smiled. "Maddie and I still missed having you there." She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. "So do you have anything you want to do?"
He nodded, then walked around to where she stood. "I was thinking that maybe we should get a Christmas tree and do some decorating."
She smirked. "I see Maddie got to you."
He smiled. "Yeah, she did sorta put the idea out there. But it would be nice, I think, for us to do that together. All of us."
She nodded. "I think so too."
He took a step closer to her and reached out to run his fingers lightly through her hair. "And I was thinking maybe we should start over. See if we can do that."
A smile played across her lips. "I'd really like that too."
Rayna
Starting over meant not touching on the argument they'd had, but for the time being she decided she could live with that. Deacon had been very clear that he thought they needed some space from it and she acknowledged that insisting on delving into it would certainly put a damper on a fun family time. They would need to visit it again, but it didn't have to be right that second.
They had spent the weekend picking out a Christmas tree and then decorating it and the house. Maddie was excited about the holidays and, when they took her to visit Santa, she was old enough that she wasn't scared of the jolly old man with the white beard as she'd been in the past. Maddie had told them what she wanted – new boots, dolls, a bike, among other things – and she had written them down on a piece of paper so that Maddie could hand it to Santa. She and Deacon were far enough away from her that they couldn't hear everything she told Santa she wanted, but they hoped she hadn't shared something she hadn't told them she wanted.
The weekend was filled with baking cookies and making popcorn and cozy meals at home. They roasted marshmallows over the fire pit on the back patio and made s'mores. They sang Christmas carols and some of their own songs and Maddie had been thrilled. And at night she and Deacon had reconnected in a more intimate way, and she had felt better about things moving forward. Until Sunday night, when he took a call from Rita.
He got up and walked to the butler's pantry, leaving her in the den. They'd been watching a movie with Maddie, and she understood that he'd want quiet, but she didn't like not being able to hear what was happening. At least on his side of the conversation. She was starting to wonder if he was telling her everything he and Rita discussed, particularly after the issue with the tour contract. When he walked back into the den, he gave her a quick smile, then snuggled in with Maddie.
"So, what's up?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
He shook his head. "Just some ideas. I'll tell you later."
She wasn't sure if he was hiding something, but she wasn't going to question him while Maddie was still awake. "Sure, okay," she said, trying to settle back against the couch. But she found that she wasn't paying attention to what was on the TV, just rolling around all kinds of different scenarios in her head.
Deacon
When he saw it was Rita calling him, he'd gotten up and walked back to the butler's pantry. When he had seen Rita before Thanksgiving to sign the contract for Luke's tour, she had told him she'd reach out after the holiday with some updates and thoughts on what was next. He could feel Rayna's eyes on him as he walked out of the room.
"Hey, Rita," he said as he rounded the corner to the pantry.
"Hey. Hope you had a good Thanksgiving."
He smiled to himself. Rita never did small talk. "It was fine. Hope yours was too."
She ignored his comment. "So Belcourt's pushing out Been and Gone to radio right after Christmas. I told them that was one you were pretty high on, and the good news is they agreed."
"Great." He felt good about that. While he thought all the songs on the record were solid, that was one he was particularly proud of. He'd actually written it years ago, not too long after he'd arrived in Nashville and it had really summed up for him his journey to that point, his path from the life he'd grown up in back in Natchez and the life he was heading for.
"Here's the thing. They want to push back on going in studio and working on another album."
He frowned. "Why?" There had been discussion, at least between him and Rita about doing that before he went out with Luke.
"Well, because there's still opportunity on this one. They want to wait and see how Been and Gone does and then gauge how things go on the summer tour." She paused. "Plus, they want to see more songs."
"Well, I got notebooks full of songs..."
"New material," she said, interrupting him. "Not the songs you did back when you first came to Nashville. You've mostly been writing with Rayna for the past 10 years and they understand that, but they want new material with more current messaging. How much have you been writing on your own?"
"Some. But I been on the road too. That cuts into time."
"Here's what I'd like to see. I would recommend you spend as much time as you can between now and the end of the year writing new material. Then after the first of the year, head out and start testing it."
"What does that mean?"
"Get out there regionally and play the new material. See what's connecting. I'm looking at places you can go. Will there be a problem with that?"
He shook his head. He thought it was very likely Rayna wasn't going to like it. But he needed to focus on his own career. "No, I guess not."
"Good. I'd like for you to do some demos and we can get together in a couple weeks and see where you are. If you can get some concentrated time to work, I can arrange to get you in studio to do the demos. Say mid-December or even the week before Christmas. Can you make that happen?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Alright. Then I'll give you a call in a couple weeks and see where you are. Talk soon." And she was gone.
He stood and looked at his phone. Everything seemed so compressed. It felt a little overwhelming to think about coming up with a catalog of songs in just a few weeks. Certainly there were times when it felt like songs were just pouring out like a waterfall, but then there would be dry times when nothing seemed to work. He and Rayna went through that too sometimes. This push for new music on top of doing demos and essentially touring during the winter months felt like a lot, but when he thought back to Rayna's career path, he realized she'd done much the same. It had felt, for the first several years, that they were always on the road, even if they hadn't planned to be. Building a career was a lot of work, as he well knew, it had just been a while since he'd gone through it. He slipped his phone in his pocket and walked back out into the great room.
Rayna turned to look at him as he approached. "So, what's up?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Just some ideas. I'll tell you later."
She looked a little wary. "Sure, okay." They settled back in to watching the movie with Maddie, but his mind was a whirl as he thought back over what Rita had said and how he would tell Rayna.
He had put Maddie to bed. As he walked into their room, Rayna looked up. "So, the call from Rita, some good news?" she asked.
He walked around and sat next to her on the bed. "Yeah, I guess. Rita says they're gonna send Been and Gone to radio after Christmas."
She smiled. "Well, that's fantastic, right? What you were hoping for." She reached over and gave his arm a squeeze.
He nodded. "Yeah, it is. Now though I gotta concentrate on new material."
"Is there going to be another album?"
"Not yet, but they want more." He had decided he wouldn't get into the regional tour situation until Rita had something more concrete.
"Well, maybe we could work on some things together."
He shrugged and gave her a tiny smile. "Maybe."
Rayna
She wondered why Deacon didn't seem more excited about the new single. And she'd never heard him seemingly not engaged about songwriting. Deacon was the type of person who always seemed to be writing something. If he wasn't working on lyrics, he was working on melodies. It was true that he hadn't written as much on his own in the past few years, but that had been because they were writing together. He had not seemed particularly open to saying much when he told her about Rita's call, so she'd decided to let it rest for a couple days. He'd been on edge ever since he'd come home and it had felt to her like she was walking on eggshells around him. Things were definitely not back to normal for them, though, and she knew they'd need to talk about it at some point.
Surprisingly, Deacon brought up the rest of what he and Rita had apparently discussed the next day. "So, the label's looking for new music, even though I won't be doing an album right away. But I guess, per Rita, they want more new music. Since so much of mine is older. But they want it pretty quick."
She frowned. "Well, how's that supposed to work? How quickly?"
"Like before the end of the year."
That surprised her. "Deacon, that's crazy. And it's the beginning of December already. Have you been doing any writing?"
He shrugged. "A little. Not enough." He took a deep breath. "So, here's what I was thinking. Maybe I go up to the cabin for a few days and see if that helps."
She smiled at that. "Maddie and I can come with you. And maybe you and I could write together too. In between your own stuff, of course."
He shook his head. "I was thinking I'd go by myself."
"What about Maddie and me?"
"I wouldn't be gone like for weeks, Rayna. But I think I need some space and no interruptions to do this."
She raised her eyebrows. "We're an interruption?" She was not happy about this development.
He frowned and shook his head. "That's not what I said."
"Well, it sounded to me like you did. You want to go off, by yourself, right before Christmas and leave Maddie and me here because we'd, what, get in your way? Disturb your ability to write? Be a problem?"
"Rayna, that ain't what I said. None of that. But you know as well as anyone that sometimes you need solitude to write."
"Why can't they wait until after the first of the year? What's so important that you have to do this now?"
He huffed. "They want me to go on the road after the first of the year to test out the new material."
She didn't know what to say. This was not what she was expecting. "Seriously? Deacon, this is crazy. You've been gone for really a year and now you're just gonna keep going? I was really looking forward to doing some writing with you for my album."
"I don't know if I can do that, Rayna."
She put her hands on her hips. "So we're just not doing this anymore? We're done?" She was both angry and shocked.
"That's not what I said."
"Isn't it though? What did you just say? 'I don't know if I can do that, Rayna.' Isn't that what you just said? That sounds like we're finished. We're not performing together, we're not going to write together. What else is there?"
He glared at her for a long moment. "I think I better get on the road," he said finally, then he turned and headed for the stairs.
Deacon
He should have known better than to think maybe Rayna would have understood. It was basically the same fight they'd been having for a year about his solo career. He tried to remember where it had gone wrong. In the very beginning she'd been excited for him and supportive of his efforts, but it was like as soon as it started to interfere with her plans that all changed. Sure, she made an effort to be understanding, but it was always short lived. And now he was on the road to the cabin, having left behind an angry wife and an unhappy daughter.
When he came out of the closet, she was standing at the bedroom doorway. He just looked at her as he started to stuff shirts into his duffle. "So, you're just gonna leave?" she asked. He could hear the anger in her voice. "Although I guess that's your thing, right? When things get tough, you get gone." He fumed as he went back into the closet. When he came back out, she was standing by the bed, hands on her hips.
"It ain't what it is," he said, trying to maintain control. "I told you I got to write. I told you I need space to do it. Why can't you just let me have a few days?"
"You don't have to leave, Deacon. We have a music room you can use, and I promise, Maddie and I will leave you alone. But don't just abandon us like this."
"I ain't abandoning you, Rayna. And the problem with being here is that actually you won't leave me alone. I need some space. I know you get that. So why is it so hard for you to understand?"
"I don't take space from you, Deacon. That's the difference." She made an angry noise. "Besides, it's more than just writing. It's how you're walking away from us. From what we do together. Does that not mean anything to you anymore?"
He shoved the clothes in his duffle. "This ain't about you, Rayna. It's me, trying to make a career for myself. It don't have to mean I'm doing something to you." He put his hands on his hips. "This is exactly what I been trying to tell you. You make all the decisions. You done it the whole time we've known each other. You send me to rehab. You decide whether or not to tell me about Maddie. You decide when we get married. All of it. And now that I'm trying to do something for me you want to control that too."
"Deacon, I had to take care of things before. You couldn't do it. What was I supposed to do – let you keep going like you were?"
"I just live in your world, Rayna. If I want things to go well, then I need to do what you want. It's always been that way. You're in the driver's seat. About everything. And now that I want to do something for me, you want to tell me how to do that too. Or tell me not to do it." He zipped up the duffle. "I'm gonna go to the cabin. I'll be back."
"When?"
"I don't know."
She breathed in deeply. "What about Maddie? She was so glad to have you home."
"Don't." He frowned. "This don't have anything to do with Maddie. This is you and me." He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked back at her. "I love you, Rayna, I do. But I need you to have my back, same as I've always had yours. I have been there all this time, every step of the way. It's your turn to do it for me."
She crossed her arms over her waist and looked away for a moment before turning back to him. "I do support you." He heard a slight quiver in her voice.
"It doesn't feel like it," he said. "And I don't say that to upset you, but it doesn't."
"I'm sorry. It's just, well, a lot."
"I get it, Rayna. It is a lot. But we gotta figure out some way to do this or..." He shrugged. She didn't say anything. "So, I'm gonna go and when I get back, maybe we can talk some more. Figure things out." He picked up his duffle and walked out of the bedroom and down the hall. He had thought she might stop him, but she had not. He looked into Maddie's room and saw her asleep on her bed. He wished she was awake, but he walked over to her bed and leaned over, kissing her cheek. "Bye, baby girl," he whispered. "I'll be back soon." He felt tears form in his eyes. "I love you more than anything, my sweet girl." When he stood back up and turned towards the door, he saw Rayna in the hallway. She followed him down to the kitchen.
"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" she asked.
He turned to look at her. "I don't know. A few days. Whatever it takes, I guess."
She walked over and put her arms around him, leaning into his chest. "I love you," she murmured. He put his arms around her. "Please know that." She looked up at him.
He nodded. "I do." He leaned down and kissed her. "I'll see you soon."
Rayna
She didn't know what to do. She didn't feel like she had anyone she could talk to. She was almost at the point of calling Tandy when she thought of Pam Tillis. Pam had been something of a mentor to her early in her career. Pam was someone she felt comfortable with, despite the difference in their ages. She immediately went to her phone book, where she'd been keeping numbers of people since she started her career, and found Pam's number, hoping her friend could provide her with a clearer perspective.
She drove to Pam's house, grateful that she'd been so welcoming and willing to talk. Pam had invited her to lunch at her house, seeming to sense that it would lend them the privacy that was needed. The house was south of Nashville, in one of the up and coming suburbs where many of the country stars were moving. The house was surrounded by a fence and had a gate across the driveway. Pam had given her the gate code and she entered the numbers and waited as the gate slowly swung open. The house wasn't overly large, but it looked a lot like an old Southern mansion, with its columns along the front of the house and the small balcony above the front door. It was already decorated for Christmas with wreaths on every window, highlighted with red ribbon. She pulled up to the parking pad in front and parked. Then she got out and walked up to the front door.
It didn't take long after she'd knocked for the door to open. Pam was dressed casually, and her hair fell to her shoulders. She reached in for a hug. "Rayna, I was so happy to hear from you," Pam said as she welcomed her in.
"I really appreciate you being able to see me so quickly. With the holidays and all, I know things are more hectic."
"Well, you sounded like you had a lot on your mind. Come on in." Pam took her coat and hung it in the coat closet, then led the way back to her kitchen. It reminded her a lot of the kitchen at her house, grand and decorated for someone who really loved to cook. "I have a crab salad. I hope that's okay."
She smiled. "It's perfect. And I'm impressed with your culinary skills."
Pam laughed. "I didn't make it. I picked it up. Just because I have this kitchen doesn't mean I know how to use it."
She laughed. "I know what you mean."
Pam prepared their plates and then poured some iced tea. It was a very spring-like meal on a cold winter day, but it was light and perfect. Pam had a breakfast table in the alcove off the kitchen, a casual eating spot, and that's where they sat. They spent a few minutes eating and then Pam looked at her curiously. "So, tell me what brings you to see me," she said.
She put her fork down and clasped her hands together in her lap. "I'm not really sure where to start." She paused and Pam waited. "I guess I should start back in the very beginning. When I met Deacon, he was like everyone else who came to Nashville. He wanted a solo career, to be a performing artist. He had written a lot of songs and he went to any open mic he could and played other places around town, hoping to get noticed. When he and I met and got together, we started working together. We wrote songs together, he played guitar for me, and we started to perform together. And in spite of all of his...struggles, we were very successful at that."
Pam smiled. "I think that's an understatement. And I know how much Deacon has contributed to your success."
"I've always said that he and the music are the same for me. He's the center of my creative process and all of that works because of him." she sighed. "But, you know, he got a record deal with Belcourt about a year ago. Kind of out of the blue. He put out an album and started touring, like we all did in the beginning, to support it."
"I did hear about that. And didn't he tour with Luke Wheeler this past summer?"
She nodded. "And Toby Keith. And a few dates with Alan Jackson recently. I knew he had an interest in being a solo artist. I've known it since the beginning. But, you know, he's been my bandleader for years and I thought he was happy doing that. He said he was happy doing that."
Pam smiled knowingly. "I'm guessing the record deal got that old desire going again."
"Yes."
"How did you feel about it?"
"I guess that's what I'm struggling with right now. Of course, I support Deacon and want him to follow his dreams. And he's supported me for so long. He's put his own career desires aside for me. But..." she sighed yet again. "It means I've lost my creative center, I've lost my partner. He's never home anymore, it feels like." She flipped her hand over in frustration. "And now he's gone up to the cabin to write. Maddie and I could have easily gone with him, but he said no."
Pam looked pensive. "Well, sometimes writing can be a solitary thing."
"I know. I almost feel like, though, that his manager is keeping him away."
"Do you really think that?"
"I don't know what to think."
"So, tell me what's concerning you."
She put her head down for a moment, thinking about what she wanted to say. Then she looked back at her friend. "I know Deacon wants to do this. He keeps saying that he wants to give it a shot. And I get that. I mean, I went through the same thing back in the beginning. I just, I don't know, I feel so...conflicted. I support him, I do, but I feel like we're pulling apart. It feels like he's willing to sacrifice his family for this."
Pam sat back. "Is this about him not touring with you?"
She shrugged. "If I'm honest, yes and no. I mean, I have a very capable lead guitar player, but it's not the same. Deacon knows me so well, knows how I like to do things, reacts perfectly to me. And I miss that, truthfully." She breathed in deeply. "Deacon says I'm trying to control everything, that I make all the decisions."
"Well, it's your career, Rayna. I don't think that's unusual."
This was the part that she'd had a hard time with. "It's more than just on stage. He says it's about everything."
Pam looked at her carefully. "Is it?"
"I don't think it's everything."
"I think you need to figure out how you really feel about all these changes. I think you want to support Deacon trying for a career of his own, but I sense your heart's not completely in it." Pam leaned forward, reaching for her hand, and squeezing it gently. "I understand why you're so conflicted. But you really can't stay conflicted. I know you know that."
She wasn't sure she had any more clarity after talking to Pam. When Pam told her she felt like her heart wasn't in on supporting Deacon's choices, it had made her feel both mad and sad. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but she knew she wasn't objective about it. She had told herself over and over that if what Deacon wanted was to try for his own career, she wouldn't stop him, but it just wasn't turning out to be that simple. She wanted him close, for so many different reasons. Why couldn't he have decided this 5 years ago? Or 7? The truth was, though, that 5 or 7 or even 10 years earlier Deacon was a drunk. A drunk who couldn't stay sober. He'd burned bridges because of his reputation for being unreliable. She had been the only one who'd been in his corner and by sheer force of her will she had pulled him through. Not always successfully – she'd gotten it wrong more times than she'd gotten it right – but she'd pulled him through. And now he was on the other side, and he had built up respect. But a big part of that is because I believed in him and helped him get there.
She knew she was holding him close. Too close, probably. But she'd had to make her own way, really since she was 12 years old. She'd had to navigate those years without her mom, and it had made her hold close to whatever she could. Probably too much. But she didn't know any other way. She'd pulled him through this time as well, so that he could be present for Maddie. And he was. But she also knew that it could be over in a flash. Nothing is guaranteed. She'd heard that so often. It was a daily fight for Deacon, and she had wanted to be there to make sure he won that fight. She just wasn't sure she could let go.
Deacon
He didn't start writing until the second day he was at the cabin. That first day – afternoon, really – when he got there, he had to sort through a range of emotions. There was anger, hurt, confusion, and something else he really couldn't put a name to. He had spent time chopping wood and bringing it in. It had been a little while since they'd been to the cabin and the wood supply was low, so it was a good way to exorcise some of the anger he'd felt when he left Nashville.
He had not wanted to leave that way, hadn't really even planned to go that day, but Rayna had pushed his buttons and he'd found he had a short fuse when it came to that. If he was truthful, it had scared him a little at the anger he'd felt and the desire – no, the need – to get away. From her. For the first half hour he was driving, he'd felt a lot like he had in the days before he got sober. He was frustrated and felt like he was out of control and, of course, his standard MO was to leave when things got like that. In the past, though, leaving meant finding a bar or a bottle. He couldn't swear that it hadn't crossed his mind – he wasn't sure when that feeling would ever leave him – but it hadn't lasted long. He was still angry though as he'd made his way up to the cabin.
He'd felt hurt that Rayna didn't seem to understand, and it hurt feeling like he had to walk away. He'd been afraid of what he might say if he hadn't. He felt confused by her messages. On the one hand, she could sound so supportive and encouraging, and then on the other, she was still holding tight. Sometimes he felt like she still didn't completely trust him, even though he'd been sober more than 4 years. He had to wonder if that would ever change. He somewhat understood. He'd put her through years of disappointment and pain, disappointment and pain he hadn't meant to cause but couldn't seem to manage. He learned every day how important it was to focus on each day as it came and not look too far ahead, but he felt more in control these days and that meant he could look ahead. What he saw was exciting and something he didn't want to pass up. He just didn't understand why Rayna didn't get it.
When the sun went down, he sat on the porch, looking at the moon shining over the water. It was cold outside, but it felt like his mind was clearing, so he was okay with it. The clear, dark sky filled with stars calmed him. Finally he got up and went inside, heading for the bedroom.
He was surprised when he fell asleep easily.
The sun was shining when he woke the next morning. He felt rested and surprisingly refreshed when he got out of bed. He headed for the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. When it was done, he poured himself a mug, slipped into his jacket and walked out onto the porch. It was a crisp, cold morning, but the sky was blue and the sun was bright. He didn't stay outside long, coming back in and getting a fire going before fixing himself some breakfast.
The good nights' sleep the night before had seemed to clear his mind and, after he'd showered and changed, he was sitting on the couch, his notebook on the coffee table and a guitar in hand and he was quickly jotting down lyric ideas and melodies. For most of the day it felt like he was going in fits and starts, but it still felt good to put down on paper some of what he'd been feeling. He had always written from his heart – Rayna had told him that many times. The life he'd led, the childhood he'd suffered through, those had always been fertile grounds for songs. Three chords and the truth. He couldn't remember when or where he'd heard that, but it was certainly true for him. He'd always told his truth and there had always been a lot to say. What he was writing was disjointed and not cohesive, but he was fine with that. It was where a story would start. It was where all stories started.
It had been a while since he'd spent time writing on his own. He would do a little here and there, but most of his writing for the last 10 to 15 years had been with Rayna. He loved writing with her, but it meant that it was something that was a combination of the two of them. He didn't often get to write songs based solely on his own experiences and he was excited to have the chance to do it again. So he found that ideas and pieces of songs, even song titles, came freely without having to account for someone else. By the time the sun went down, he'd filled most of 5 pages in his notebook with ideas. Now it was just a matter of putting the ideas together and then fleshing them out and adding the music.
He'd lost track of time. He wasn't sure anymore how many days he'd been at the cabin. What he did know is that he had 8 new songs finished and a few others in partial form. One of the finished ones was a song he'd started back when he was out on the road and had asked Rayna's opinion on. She'd contributed a couple of lines, but it had never been finished. He reworked what she'd suggested and completed the song. The songs all felt true to him. As he went through them again, he knew that most of them were either about Rayna or inspired by her, but he wasn't sure she'd find them all to her liking. But they weren't songs for the two of them to perform, they were songs for him to perform.
He would need more, but he felt confident he'd be able to do that. For now he thought it was probably best that he get back to Nashville. He didn't really feel like he'd left things in a good place with Rayna. They would definitely need to talk.