"Damn it!" Rayna cried, shaking her hand.

Deacon frowned. "What?"

She scowled at him. "These strings," she said, with a pout. "They hurt my fingers."

He shrugged. "You just gotta toughen 'em up." He held out one hand, palm up. "Once you build up calluses you'll be okay."

She stared at his fingers. They looked very rough. She couldn't help but wonder if his girlfriend liked the way they felt on her skin. She wondered if she would like how they felt on her skin. Then she felt herself blush. "I don't want my fingers to look like that," she said stubbornly.

He shrugged again, smiling a little this time. "Ain't no way to getting around it, though, Rayna," he said. "You wanna play the guitar, you gotta do it."

She sighed. "Maybe I don't want to play guitar that much then," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "So you gonna sing without no instrument? Or play piano?"

She laughed. "I think I'd get laughed off a stage if I played piano."

"Maybe not. Just 'cause it ain't the norm don't mean it can't be." He smiled. "I play piano."

She was surprised. "Really?"

He nodded. "Not great, but I play. Learned here, at one of them honky tonks on Broadway." He smiled. "So I could play that if I needed to."

She smiled at him. "Maybe you could play guitar for me," she said. "If you have any free time. And if your girlfriend would let you."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Sometime." He pointed at her. "But you could be better." He took a deep breath. "Here. Let me try something." He made a gesture with his hand. "Turn so your back is to me."

She frowned, not sure how that would help, but she did what he asked. After a moment, she felt him against her back and she held her breath. He put his arms around her, a little stiffly, and then put his hands on hers. She thought she was going to pass out and she closed her eyes. He moved her fingers on the strings and she bit her lip as she felt the rough pads of his fingers on hers. She still couldn't breathe, but she felt a strange, hot tingle between her legs. He moved the fingers of her left hand and then on her right. He pressed down on her left hand and then helped her slide the fingers of her right hand over the strings. The chord she heard sounded almost like it did when he showed her. "Oh my God," she whispered, finally able to breathe. She wasn't sure if what she was feeling was the excitement of making the chord sound right or the heat she felt coursing through her body at his closeness, but she felt like she'd been transported up into the air.

"See?" His voice was right at her ear and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. "That's how it feels." Then he jerked back a little, lifting his hands from hers and moving back to where he'd been sitting.

It took her a minute to catch her breath. She could still feel his warmth against her back, could still feel his fingers on hers. She finally turned around to face him, sure her face was red. She couldn't read his expression and he wasn't looking at her, so she couldn't see what was in his eyes. She was feeling things she couldn't explain, didn't understand. "Um, I think I need to go," she mumbled, slowly stepping off the table. She put her guitar back in the case. "Thanks for the lesson," she said, as she stood up.

He looked at her then and what she saw in his eyes she couldn't comprehend. It almost looked like a yearning, but she couldn't be sure. "Sure," he said. He cleared his throat. "You ever tried playing at one of those places I mentioned?" She shook her head, unable to speak. "Try Robert's, in the afternoon. I'll put in a word for you."

She nodded. "Okay. Thanks." She took a deep breath. "Can we…can we still do this?"

"Sure, if you want."

"I do." She could almost feel perspiration rolling down her back. It wasn't that hot, so it confused her. "Um, I'll try to come by Robert's too." She wasn't sure exactly how she'd manage that, but she'd figure it out. She raised her hand up in a wave. "Uh, I'll see you later." She didn't even wait for him to respond before turning and scurrying off to her car.

####

He really wasn't sure what to make of Rayna Jaymes. Sometimes she seemed so much older than sixteen, but then other times she seemed so skittish and naïve. He had to admit, though, that being so close to her left him off balance. He had tried to put her out of his head, just like he'd buried that song he'd written about her. She was too young. He already had a girlfriend. He wasn't good enough for someone like her anyway. He didn't need the complication. He'd told himself all of those things, and more, but he still couldn't erase her from his mind.

He watched her walk away. He thought he probably shouldn't have sat so close to her. He'd probably scared her. He'd definitely scared himself a little. He liked how she'd felt, leaning against him, his arms around her. He felt sure she'd notice he was practically shaking and he wondered if she could hear his heart thudding in his chest. He closed his eyes and breathed in. He'd never known anyone like her before and all he wanted was to be with her every second of every day.

When he went to work the next day, he sought out the booker. "Matt, you got a minute?" he asked, as he walked into the office.

Matt looked up. "Hey there, Deacon, what's going on?"

Deacon shook his head. "Not much." He let out a sharp laugh. "I was hoping you'd do me a favor."

"If I can."

"A friend of mine may come by. I mean, I told her to come by and see if she could do an afternoon set. She's just starting out and she needs some experience."

"There's no pay but tips, you know."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. I done told her that too. She just needs to get up on a stage in front of people."

Matt nodded. "Sure. What's her name?"

"Rayna Jaymes."

Matt laughed. "Well, if that's not a good old country singer name, I don't know what is." He looked at Deacon closely. "How do you know her?"

"Heard her sing at the Bluebird a couple times. She's good. Pretty. I think you'd like her."

"Well, a pretty girl will sure bring people in. And if she's a good singer, even better." He slapped Deacon on the shoulder. "Sure, we can do that." He peered at him curiously. "I thought you had a girlfriend."

Deacon shook his head. "She ain't my girlfriend. She's just a…friend. And teaching her some guitar."

Matt just nodded. "Okay, well, tell her to stop by."

As Matt walked off, Deacon breathed out. Now he hoped Rayna really did come by.

####

Tandy walked down the hall to her sister's room. She peeked in first and saw Rayna sitting in a chair, facing the window, her guitar on her lap. She winced a little as she listened to her sister's hesitant chords, some of which sounded, even to her unpracticed ear, a little off. She wondered sometimes why it was so important to Rayna to learn to play the guitar, when she was so accomplished on the piano. She heard Rayna stop and make a frustrated sound and took the opportunity to knock lightly on the door jamb.

Rayna whirled around and a smile broke out across her face when she saw her sister. "Tandy!" she exclaimed, standing up and almost tossing the guitar on her bed. She ran over and threw her arms around Tandy's neck. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Tandy hugged her hard. "Me too, sweetheart." She stepped back and looked at her sister, thinking something was different about her, but she wasn't sure what. "I'm so sorry not to have been around, but, you know, midterms and all. And then spring break down in Destin." She smiled. "What have you been up to?"

Rayna rolled her eyes. "School mostly. But working on my music too."

Tandy looked at her carefully. "You talked to that man again? What was his name, Watson?" She, of course, knew his name like it was her own, but she didn't want to tip off Rayna.

Rayna laughed. "Watty. And no, I haven't. I think he expects me to get out and play other places first."

Tandy raised her eyebrows. "And have you?"

Rayna shook her head. "Not yet."

Tandy reached for her hand. "Listen, I thought we could go to Elliston's and get a milk shake and you can tell me all about what you're doing. Can I steal you away from homework and music for a little while?"

"Absolutely!" Rayna squealed. She ran to get her purse and then followed her sister out of her bedroom.

When they were settled into the booth – Tandy with her strawberry malt and Rayna with her chocolate milkshake – Tandy picked back up on the music conversation. "So, anymore open mics?" she asked.

Rayna shook her head. "Mr. White – Watty – said to play in some other places first. Deacon suggested several places I could try but I just haven't worked up the courage."

Tandy frowned. "Who's Deacon again?"

Rayna rolled her eyes. "I told you. I met him at the Bluebird. He's helping me with the guitar." Tandy couldn't help but think that if this Deacon person was helping her sister with her guitar skills, he wasn't doing a particularly good job. "Anyway, he suggested Robert's."

"Robert's? What's that? A bar?" That made Tandy nervous.

"A honky tonk. On Broadway."

"Oh, sweetie, I don't know about that. Broadway's not a very nice area. Those honky tonks and places like that are pretty seedy. You surely don't want to be down there at night."

Rayna sucked on her straw, then looked up at her sister, and winced. "Ah. Brain freeze!" After a moment, she continued. "Not at night. In the afternoon. Deacon says they don't pay anything, but you can get tips if you're good. But Mr. White thinks places like that would be good. And Deacon said the park would be a good place."

"The park? You mean like where you met him? Shelby Bottoms? Oh, Rayna, no."

Rayna scowled. "If I'm gonna follow my dreams, Tandy, I have to. I have to play wherever I can, whenever I can. That's what Deacon said."

Tandy raised an eyebrow. "And does this Deacon have a record deal? Or get paid to perform?"

Rayna looked down. "Well, no. At least not a record deal." She looked back at her sister. Tandy thought she looked a little defiant. "I don't know if he gets paying gigs. Maybe. He and his sister are really good."

Tandy ran her straw around the edge of her glass. "I'm just not so sure you should be down on Broadway, Rayna. Surely there are other places you could go. And can't you just go back to the Bluebird?"

Rayna shrugged. "I could, but I think I need to branch out. See what else I can do. And write more songs. I'm not so good at that yet, but I have a couple. And I'm working on a new one."

"You need to be careful, sweetie. I don't know if Mr. White and Deacon have the same desire to protect you that I do."

Rayna frowned. "I don't need to be protected, Tandy. I can do this."

Tandy was quiet then. Her sister was definitely stubborn, to a fault, and she knew it would be hard to change Rayna's mind, once she was set on something. She knew her sister had a beautiful voice and she had no doubt she could be a performer, but she wasn't so sure Rayna knew just what it would take. And she also wasn't sure Rayna was listening to the right people. But she also knew that if she pushed too hard, Rayna would do what she wanted anyway and just not tell her, so she decided the better thing to do was seem okay with things, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on her.

####

It had been a long day. It was one of the rare days he worked at the diner during breakfast and lunch, then went straight to Robert's. It was practically dusk when he got back to the little studio apartment. When he walked in the door, the lights were out. He thought maybe Beverly was out, but then he saw her hunched over the little table near the kitchenette, her legs tucked up underneath her. He frowned, flipping on the kitchen light.

Beverly looked up at him then and he could tell she'd been crying. "What's up, Bev?" he asked.

She shook her head and rubbed at her eyes. Then she took a deep breath. "Doug called." Doug O'Connor was her boyfriend. At least he had been until they moved to Nashville. Doug had not been okay with Beverly leaving and had told her if she did, he might not be waiting for her. He thought his sister was probably better off without him, but it usually set her off if he said so, so he didn't.

He steeled himself. "What did he want?"

Tears started rolling down her face. "I think he's found someone else," she wailed.

It was all he could do to not roll his eyes. He was sure that Beverly was exaggerating somehow. "What makes you think so?" he made himself ask.

She looked up at him and scowled. "Because he was so distant, Deacon. Hardly said a word to me. So vague."

He was confused. "I thought you said he called you."

She waved her hand in the air. "It doesn't matter. But I can't lose him, Deacon."

He sighed. "What does that even mean, Beverly? I thought we was here to follow our dream. Now what?"

"I want to go home," she cried.

He sighed and then walked over to sit across from her at the table. "How you planning to get home, Bev? And when you coming back?"

"I thought you'd take me."

He shook his head. "I can't leave. I got work." He frowned. "'Sides, I don't wanna go back there. Told you I was done with Natchez when we left."

She rolled her eyes. "He's gone, Deacon. Nothing to be afraid of now. And we're not getting anywhere here anyway. We can find places to play at home."

He felt the old anger and fear rising up inside him as he listened to her. He tried breathing in and out slowly, as the anxiety started to tighten his chest. He tried to stay calm. "I don't wanna go back to Natchez, Beverly," he said.

She slammed her hand down on the table. "And I need to get home. So what, you're gonna just stick me on a bus and hope I don't get raped or robbed or worse on the way?"

He breathed in. His sister was so dramatic. "Beverly, none of that's gonna happen. You're being crazy." He realized as soon as the word was out of his mouth that she was going to explode. He knew she had some of the same tendencies their mother had had, the same huge mood swings, alternating between highs and lows, the highs usually manifesting themselves as anger.

"I'm not crazy, Deacon!" she shouted. "Stop saying that! I'm just homesick, which I can't believe you don't understand." Then she got a snarky look on her face. "Oh, wait. It's that little princess, isn't it? You're still thinking you've got a chance with her, don't you, baby brother?"

He pushed back from the table, knocking the chair over. "You don't know nothing, Bev!" he shouted, pointing at her.

She got up and got in his face. "I'm not afraid of you, baby brother!" she shouted back. "You're all talk and no action." She poked him in the chest and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it until she made a noise. "Stop it!" she cried. "That hurts!"

He dropped her hand and stepped back, turning away from her and rubbing his hands over his face. He hadn't meant to do that. "I can't go back there," he said.

"Please take me home," she begged.

He turned back to face her and saw the neediness on her face. He struggled to keep his emotions under control. She was right – their father was long gone – but he didn't like the thought that the cruel, angry man they'd been raised by could come back at any time. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd left and then come back, worse than ever. But the two of them had taken care of each other their whole lives and he hated seeing her unhappy. "I ain't staying," he whispered.

####

Rayna felt sick to her stomach. She had driven downtown and edged down along Broadway, looking at the buildings, the honky tonks, the bars. She rarely came downtown – she still remembered her mom bringing Tandy and her to see Santa at the downtown Castner-Knott's though – and a lot had changed, particularly down on lower Broad. While there was more office construction a little farther west, this part of downtown, close to the river, had been allowed to deteriorate. There were probably as many empty storefronts as there were open businesses.

It wasn't the state of the area that caused her anxiety, though. It was the idea of getting on a stage and performing all alone for thirty minutes. She had figured out a set list – mostly cover songs – but this would be different than standing on a stage at the Bluebird or someplace else like if for an open mic, singing two to three songs, in between many other hopefuls. This would be her, standing on the stage, all by herself, to succeed or fail.

She kept breathing in and out, trying to calm her nerves. She almost drove back home, but she thought about how her father had belittled her dreams and how Tandy seemed so cautious. She thought about Mr. White's confidence that she could do this. And then she thought about Deacon's encouragement. She finally got out of her car and got her guitar case out of the trunk and headed for the sidewalk that fronted all the honky tonks. She had driven past, so she knew exactly where it was located. She walked down the sidewalk, past Legends and Tootsie's, and then just past Layla's, there it was. She stood at the door for a moment before she walked in.

Someone was already on stage and so she stood off to the side and watched, fascinated by the whole thing. She felt the anxiety start to fade and an excitement begin to build.

"Can I help you?"

She turned to see a young woman, maybe a little older than Tandy, standing there, obviously a server. She smiled. "I was told that I might be able to do a set, if I came by," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

The server smiled. "Let me get Matt out here. Hold tight." Then she turned and walked towards the back of the venue. Rayna watched her until she disappeared in the back, then turned back to the young man who was on the stage. She found a table and sat down, letting herself get lost in the music and feeling again like maybe this was truly where she belonged.

She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, when the young man on stage finally packed up his guitar and headed off the stage. She looked around then, for the server, for someone named Matt, but didn't see anyone other than the other patrons in the bar. She was starting to get annoyed when she saw Deacon walk out from the back. He was walking in one direction when he saw her and then turned and headed for her.

"Hey, Rayna," he said, with a smile.

She stood up, feeling confused. "Deacon. What are you doing here?"

He put his hands on his hips and looked a little guilty. "Uh, I work here."

She narrowed her eyes. "You work here? I don't understand. You told me to try this place."

He nodded. "Yeah, I did. 'Cause I know the guy who books people."

"Why didn't you tell me you worked here?"

"Does it make a difference? I mean, I ain't the one booking people. I just told you about it and I told the guy who books people. That you were good. If you came in."

She looked around then. "Well, where is he? I've been waiting here for…" – again, she wasn't sure how long she'd been there – "…well, for a while, and he hasn't come out."

He looked towards the back, then back at her. "Just get up there," he said, nodding towards the stage. "I know we don't got no one else coming in yet, so get up there."

She took a deep breath. "Won't he get mad?"

He gestured towards the door. "See those people?" She looked and saw people stick their heads in the door, then leave. She looked back at him. "If there's someone on stage, they'll come in. And buy beer and food and all that. If there's no one up there, they don't."

She frowned. "I don't understand."

He shook his head. "Get up there." He tapped her arm. "Go on."

She hesitated for a moment, then did as he told her. She walked up on the stage and set her guitar case on a luggage rack. When she got the guitar out and put the strap over her shoulder, she walked up to the mic. She adjusted it and then looked around, finding Deacon over by the sound board. He nodded for her to go ahead. She swallowed hard and looked around the place. It was mid-afternoon, so it wasn't full, but those who were there were looking at her expectantly.

She took a deep breath and started to play, knowing the guitar sounded not as good as she would have liked, but hoping that her cover of the Judds' song would make them overlook it.

Sittin in the porch swing / Listenin' to the light rain / Beatin' on the tin roof / Baby, just a-me and you / Rockin' with the rhythm of the rain

Slide on over / Baby hold me closer / Movin' to and fro / Just swayin' like a slow freight train / Rockin' with the rhythm of the rain

As she started the chorus, she saw Deacon come up on stage. He came up behind her and took her guitar away, picking up where she left off, and leaning in to harmonize with her as she continued to sing. She couldn't help but feel appreciative and it made her more relaxed and able to concentrate on singing.

As her set wore on, she realized she was enjoying herself, and she noticed the crowd got larger the longer she went on. By the time she finished, the bar was about three-quarters' full and she got a loud, appreciative response when she came off the stage.

She turned to Deacon then, the excitement pulsing through her. "Oh my God, that was amazing!" she cried.

"You were great, Rayna," he said with a smile, handing her back her guitar.

She smiled shyly at him. "Thank you for rescuing me," she said.

He shrugged and bit his lip. "Figured you'd do better just concentrating on the songs," he said.

"That your way of telling me I still suck on the guitar?" she asked.

He turned a little red and she had to smile at his discomfort. "No, I mean, um…." He stumbled over his words and she found it kind of endearing.

She put a hand on his arm. "It's okay. I know I'm not really very good." She took a deep breath. "I'd still like to get better, but I wouldn't mind if you bailed me out again sometime."

He looked relieved and smiled a little shyly and she felt her heart racing. "If I can, I will," he said. She looked at him for a moment, trying to decide what to say next. She felt like she couldn't breathe. "Um, hey, I gotta get back to work," he said then, breaking the silence.

She nodded. "Oh, yeah, of course. Listen, thanks again for helping me out." She tightened her grip on her guitar. "We still on for tomorrow?"

He looked thoughtful. "Yeah, we are. But I might have to go out of town for little bit."

She perked up. "A gig?"

He shook his head. "Nah, nothing like that." He started to move towards the sound board. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rayna." And then she watched as he walked away from her. She couldn't help but feel good about how the afternoon had turned out. The thrill of performing on a stage, feeling like she was really an artist, was exhilarating and thrilling. She hurried back up the steps and put her guitar in its case and then, with a last look around the place, she turned and walked out the door.

####

He was late getting to the park and she was sitting on the table waiting for him. He slowed his steps as he got closer. She smiled as he approached. "Hey, Rayna, I'm sorry," he said as he sat down next to her. "I got away late from work." That wasn't actually true. Beverly was still badgering him to take her back to Natchez and they'd been fighting about it again.

Rayna shrugged. "It's okay. You're pretty much on time. I was early." She squeezed her hands into fists and practically bounced on the table. "That was so neat yesterday, Deacon!" she cried. "I almost couldn't sleep last night, I was still so buzzed."

He couldn't help but smile at her excitement. She'd really been great. "You did great, Rayna," he said. "You gonna keep doing it?"

She nodded. "I am. I have to do it when my daddy isn't home but yeah, I will. Do you think they'd let me come back to Robert's?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I know they will. Matt felt bad about missing you, but he said come back anytime."

"If I do, would you play guitar for me?"

He sighed. "If I can, but I'm gonna be gone for a few days and then, well, I don't know if they'll keep me on there."

She frowned. "What do you mean? Did you get in trouble for helping me out? And why do you have to leave?"

He sat forward on the table and looked out over the field in front of them. "I gotta take Beverly back home. Don't know how long I'll be gone, so I might not have that job when I get back."

"Why do you have to take her?"

He sighed and put his head down. "She's afraid to ride a bus by herself." He looked over at Rayna then. "She gets kinda skittish 'bout things. Scared. Nervous. She can get kinda all, I don't know, outta control sometimes."

"I don't understand."

He breathed in slowly. He didn't want to tell her too much, because he didn't want her to be scared off. She might think he wasn't someone she wanted to be around, if she knew what kind of life he'd had. He shrugged. "It was hard, growing up. My dad drank a lot and my mom, well, she was sick sometimes, so we kinda got, um, left on our own. So Beverly just sorta gets nervous on her own." He couldn't decide if the look on Rayna's face was pity or distaste.

She put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," she said. "That must've been hard."

He nodded. "Sometimes." He took a deep breath and let it out. "But I can't just send her off by herself. I gotta take care of her. So anyway…."

She smiled encouragingly. "You're a good brother. I hope she appreciates that."

He laughed a little, thinking Beverly definitely did not appreciate him. "I don't know about that."

"How long will you be gone? And you are coming back, right?"

He nodded. "I'm coming back. I hope I ain't gone but a couple days. Long enough to drive her down and come back. But I can't be sure. I gotta be sure she's okay."

"Is she not coming back with you?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. She's got a boyfriend, had a boyfriend, I ain't sure what he is, but she thinks she's gotta go back. So it depends."

"You said your mom died. So is your dad still in Natchez? Maybe he could come get her."

He felt his blood instantly boil at the mention of his dad, but he didn't want to share that with Rayna. Instinctively, he knew she didn't need to know all of that. At least not yet. He shook his head. "He left town, so it's on me." He didn't want to keep going down that path, so he changed the subject. "You written anymore?"

She looked a little surprised by the change in topic, but she smiled anyway. "One of my teachers told me not too long ago that my poetry would make good songs, so I went back and looked at some of that and found something I could start with." She looked a little shy and then she reached into her backpack and pulled out a notebook. "I worked on it a little bit but I'm stuck a little on the music."

He nodded towards the notebook. "You wanna play what you got? Maybe I could help."

She looked hesitant. "It might be terrible."

He grinned. "I bet it won't. But you gotta put it out there sometime. Might as well be now."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. I guess." She pulled out her guitar and settled it on her lap, then looked back at him. "Don't laugh if I don't get the chords right."

He shook his head. "I won't."

She leaned over her guitar and bit down on her lip as she hesitantly started the melody. He could hear when she missed it, but he couldn't help but feel himself being drawn to her as she sang what she'd written. He had some ideas on how she could tighten it up, but he wanted to wait until she had it finished. She stopped suddenly and looked at him shyly. "I just wrote the chorus," she said, and went on.

'Cause when you're fifteen / Somebody tells you they love you / You're gonna believe them / And when you're fifteen / Feeling like there's nothing to figure out

Count to ten / Take it in / This is life before you know who you're gonna be / At fifteen

She stopped and looked at him, waiting.

He smiled. "That's pretty damn good, Rayna Jaymes. I can sure help you on the music, if you want. Can't wait to see how you finish it." He thought then that, for the rest of his life, he would never know anything more special than the look of gratitude and hope he saw on her face and in her smile just then.