He was on Highway 61, approximately a half hour outside of Natchez. The sun was beating down on the old truck. The windows were open, which helped it feel less stifling inside. He glanced over to the passenger seat. Beverly was still asleep, her head leaning against a pillow, her hair flying out the window in the draft. He focused back on the road. The closer they got, the more anxious he became. He kept reminding himself not to worry. Gideon Claybourne was long gone. He'd last left the house when Deacon had just turned seventeen, right after his mom died. The same time he and Beverly had left for Nashville.
He tried not to feel anxious, but it was hard not to. It was sort of inbred in him, somehow, at this point in his life. As the weeks and months and now years had passed, his memories of growing up were still mostly bad ones. He had realized, more and more, that what his life – his and Beverly's – had been was not the norm. He thought about Rayna, with her school uniform or her nice regular clothes, the nice guitar, and the convertible, and he knew her life had been so much better than his. Even if her mama had died when she was young, it was clear to him that she'd had a good life. A comfortable life. One where she didn't worry about whether or not she'd get hit or if her dad was going to be in a good mood or not when he came home.
He sighed.
"How close are we?" came Beverly's sleepy voice.
He looked over at her and she smiled a hazy smile. He thought about the fact that, when she first woke up, she was usually much nicer than she was any other time of the day. He smiled a little. "Not far," he said. He cleared his throat. "Where you want me to take you?"
She sat up then, gathering the pillow in her arms and hugging it to her chest. "I don't know." She looked out the side window, then back at him. "I guess the house is still there, isn't it?"
He shrugged. "Probably. Ain't nobody living there though, so it probably ain't gonna be in good shape."
"You're probably right. And I'm guessing no electric or water or anything like that." She looked back at him. "Maybe a motel or something?"
He breathed in. "Beverly, I ain't staying but just the one night. I done told you that already. I gotta get back."
She scowled at him. "I know you said that, Deacon, but you can't just leave me here. You have to stay until I've got things set up."
He frowned. "No, Beverly, I don't got to do that. If you wanna stay, that's on you. You figure it out."
She pointed then. "There," she cried out. "Red Roof Inn. Stop there." He saw it, but he kept driving. She whipped around to look at him. "What are you doing?"
He set his jaw. "I'm taking you to Doug's. Might as well find out what's what. So I can leave."
"Deacon, he doesn't know I'm coming!"
He glanced over at her. "Then it's better you know this way. If he's got someone, now you'll know." She scowled and then slumped down in the seat, but she didn't say another word. And he kept on driving.
####
Rayna walked upstairs with her guitar. She'd gone to Robert's again, but Deacon hadn't been there this time. She had,finally seen Matt, the absent booker from her first time. He told her Deacon was taking a few days off and she supposed it was to take his sister home, like he said. Matt had let her do a thirty minute set, which turned into a forty-five minute set, in spite of the fact that she had to play her own guitar accompaniment. She'd had good response again and he had told her to come back as often as she liked.
She wondered when Deacon would be back. Or if he would be back. He had told her he really didn't want to go and didn't want to leave his sister until he knew she was okay. He really seemed to be a good person, a caring person, if he would go somewhere he didn't want to go and stay longer than he wanted, so he could take care of his sister. She hoped he came back though. Soon.
She laid back on her bed, with her hands crossed over her chest. She still didn't know a whole lot about Deacon. She knew he had a sister, that he was a good singer and a great guitar player. He was from Mississippi – Natchez – and he lived on the east side of Nashville. He had a girlfriend. She sighed. She sort of hated that he had a girlfriend, although she probably was pretty and nice. He had the sweetest eyes and the best smile and his arms around her had made her feel safe and protected. He was a little shy, but he felt deeply, she could tell. She felt butterflies in her stomach and that strange fullness between her legs and she rolled over onto her side. Her feelings scared her, mainly because she didn't know what they meant. She'd never really had a boyfriend, so she didn't know what you were supposed to feel.
Of course, he wasn't her boyfriend, but she knew she had feelings for him, feelings she couldn't make go away. She thought maybe he had some feelings for her too. There was something in the way he looked at her, something in his eyes, that told her he liked her far more than just as a girl he was teaching guitar to. He didn't make her afraid or nervous, like he'd take advantage of her. It really seemed like he cared about her, even though he didn't know her any better than she knew him.
If they stuck to their schedule, the next time she met him for a guitar lesson would be in two days. She thought about trying to call him, to see if he was back in Nashville. She got up then and sat up on her bed, looking at the phone on the bedside table. This was when she was glad her father had allowed her to have a phone in her room. It wasn't her own number, but it still meant she could have some relative privacy, not that she used it often. She reached for the receiver, then pulled her hand back. She wasn't sure why it made her so nervous, but it did.
Finally she picked up the receiver. She knew the number by heart and she punched it in, then raised the receiver to her ear. Deacon didn't have an answering machine, she knew, and she let it ring ten times before deciding to hang up. Either he wasn't home or he wasn't back. She just wished she knew for sure.
That night she dreamt about standing on stage, in front of thousands of people. She was in a sparkly dress and high heels. She didn't hear the words she was singing, but she knew that everyone in front of her was singing along. And when she glanced to one side, she saw Deacon, playing his guitar, smiling at her. When it was all over, she walked off the stage and he came up behind her, putting his arm around her shoulder and kissing her on the cheek. "You killed it, Rayna," he said, a huge grin on his face. "You're on top of the world."
She felt like she was being lifted off the ground, that her body was tingling all over. The sound of the crowd felt like it was swirling all around her, like the winds of a hurricane. She looked into Deacon's eyes and they were like fireworks. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She leaned in and she kissed him and she felt like she was going to explode inside. Lights were flashing and drums were beating and yet she also felt a little terrified, like she had no idea what was going to happen next.
Suddenly her eyes were wide open and she sat up in the bed, breathing hard. There was a roar in her ears and her heart was pounding and she had that crazy feeling all through her body, the one that seemed to center in her lower abdomen. Lightning flashed just then, lighting up the room, and she looked over towards the window, just in time for the crash of thunder, loud enough that it felt like it was shaking the whole house.
She scrambled out of bed and ran towards the window, pulling back the curtain just along the edge. She could see the rain falling in torrents, the lightning and thunder crashing all around. She closed her eyes tight, putting her hands over her ears.
There was a frantic knocking on her door and she looked over. "Miss Rayna? Miss Rayna?" she heard Vernice's voice on the other side of the door. "You okay, girl?"
She hurried over to the door and opened it. "I'm okay," she nodded, wincing as the lightning and thunder came again almost simultaneously.
Vernice looked at her with a worried expression on her face. "It's a bad one, Miss Rayna. You sure you don't wanna come downstairs, I make you some tea?" she asked.
She started to say no, but then she thought she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until it was over. She nodded and opened the door wider. "Yes, that sounds nice." Vernice reached for her hand, much like she had when Rayna was a little girl, and led her down the hall and downstairs to the kitchen.
As she sat at the kitchen table, with the lights on, watching Vernice busy at the stove, the storm didn't seem so scary. She could still hear the pouring rain, but it seemed like the thunder was tapering off just a touch. "I 'member how you was always so scared of them thunderstorms, Miss Rayna," Vernice was saying. "I'd find you all curled up with Miss Tandy and you'd be crying, poor baby."
Rayna smiled. "Well, I don't cry anymore." Vernice turned then and poured hot water into the tea cup in front of Rayna and then one for herself. "Thanks, Vernice." She reached for the sugar and put two spoonfuls in her tea, along with a touch of cream. She stirred the hot tea while she waited for it to cool. "I was having the best dream when the storm woke me up."
Vernice smiled at her. "What you dreaming about, girl?" she asked.
Rayna put the spoon down and took a tiny sip of tea. It was still a little hot. "I was on stage, singing for thousands of people. It felt electric, like nothing I've ever felt before. I felt like I was on such a high."
"That's what you want to do, ain't it, girl? Sing on stage? Like your mama wanted you to?"
Rayna nodded. "I do." She sighed. "Daddy doesn't want me to, but I just feel like I have to, you know?"
Vernice nodded. "I do know. Baby, you gotta do what you're led to. That's what I told my Coleman and I done told Miss Tandy the same thing, though she didn't need me to tell her." She smiled. "Your mama would want you to follow your dream, baby. You know that."
"I do know that. And I will. And even though Daddy doesn't want me to, I do have people helping me. People who believe in me." She thought about the fact that Deacon had been there in her dream. It had felt like two pieces of a puzzle, fitted together perfectly, and she wondered if it was just a dream or maybe a premonition. She wondered yet again when he would come back to Nashville. Or if he would.
####
Deacon drove down the dirt road that led to Doug O'Connor's place. Beverly was sitting as far away from him as she could, her hands crossed over her waist, and a scowl on her face, not speaking. Doug had been two years ahead of Beverly in school. He'd been a pretty popular boy, on the school baseball team. He and Beverly had had an on again off again relationship until Beverly left Natchez. At first he'd told her he'd follow her to Nashville, but that never happened. These days he was a mechanic and he hung out in bars with his old friends.
Deacon pulled up to the little house halfway down the dirt road, a few miles outside of town. It was surprisingly neat, although there were several cars on the gravel drive and a mechanic's shed out back, with several more cars. As he pulled down the drive, a muscular blond man walked out from inside the shed, wearing grease spattered jeans and a torn Ole Miss t-shirt, carrying a wrench. Deacon parked the truck and looked over at Beverly. "There he is, Bev," he said. She didn't budge, so Deacon got out of the truck.
"Deacon Claybourne," Doug said, a crooked smile crossing his face. "What the hell are you doing back in Natchez?"
Deacon took a few steps towards the other man and nodded towards his truck. "Beverly wanted to come back. See you," he said.
The other man peered into the truck. "She did, did she?" He walked around towards the passenger side of the truck. "Beverly Claybourne, get the hell out of the truck," he said.
Slowly the door opened and Beverly got out, but she stood by the truck. "I thought you were coming to Nashville, Doug," she said. "What happened?" Deacon wondered why she was rehashing old news. She'd known for a long time now that Doug wasn't coming to Nashville.
Doug shrugged. "Got a good business here, Bev. Don't need to go to Nashville." He peered at her. "You back to stay? Or just checking up on me?"
Beverly eyed him carefully. "Do you want me back?"
Doug shrugged again. "Up to you, Bev." Then he turned and headed back for the garage.
Beverly looked at Deacon, as if expecting some answer. He raised his hands up. "What are you gonna do, Bev?" he asked. "I told you I ain't staying here. You coming with me or you staying?"
She hesitated for a moment. She looked in the direction Doug went, then back at her brother. "Will you come back for me tomorrow? If I stay here?"
He shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll come back out here first thing in the morning. If you wanna go back to Nashville, be ready." He got in the truck and slid across, reaching out to shut the door.
"Wait!" she cried, and opened the door back up. But instead of getting in, she grabbed her things and then shut the door again. Then she turned and headed in the same direction as Doug. He watched her for a minute, then started the truck and headed back to town.
The next day he was headed back to Nashville, without Beverly. He wasn't really surprised, but he was disappointed. They were supposed to be doing this together, that had been the plan. Now he'd have to make it on his own.
####
Rayna left the cafeteria before lunch period was up and went to the pay phones up near the school entrance. She put in her quarter and punched in Deacon's number. She expected it to, yet again, ring with no answer. This was the fourth day she'd tried, the day they normally met at the park. She was surprised when, at the seventh ring, he answered.
"Hello," he said, sounding like he'd been asleep.
"Deacon? It's Rayna," she said.
"Rayna? Oh, hey," he replied.
"Did I wake you up?"
He laughed softly. "Um, yeah, you did. Sorry."
"So you came back."
"I did. Told you I would."
"Well, but I didn't know when." She paused. "I played at Robert's again."
"I heard. Matt said you was great. You coming back?"
She smiled. "I will. But I was calling to see if we were on for today. Well, actually I was calling to see if you were back, but also to see if we could do a lesson."
"Sure we can. Same time?"
"Yeah, if that's okay."
"I'm looking forward to it, Rayna Jaymes."
She hung up the phone and hugged herself, smiling. The day had just gotten better.
Unfortunately, not even five minutes after she got to the park, it started to rain. They ran to her car and she put up the top, but not before the inside got wet. "Oh, no," she wailed, as they stood under her umbrella. "How am I supposed to drive home with the seat all wet?"
"You don't have no blanket or nothing?" he asked, a concerned look on his face. She shook her head. "Well, uh, you wanna wait out the rain in my truck?"
She looked at him. "Do you have a blanket or something?" she asked.
"Nah, sorry. But at least it's dry." He smirked.
She made a face. "I guess I'll have to. For now anyway." She walked with him to his truck and he opened the door to let her in, then took her umbrella and hustled around to the driver's side. They sat, looking out the windshield, as the rain picked up. She looked over at him. "Do you have to get to work or something? Or a date?"
He looked at her. "Nah."
"You didn't lose your job or anything, did you?"
"Nope. I didn't miss but one shift at the diner, turned out."
"So how come your sister didn't come back?"
"She stayed with her boyfriend."
She smiled a little. "You don't seem too happy about that."
He shrugged. "I don't know. He just ain't really nothing special. Not anymore anyway. But Beverly, well, she gets scared about stuff and I think she was just, well, I don't really know what she thought. She might change her mind tomorrow, wanna come back."
She turned and leaned back against the car door, facing him. "What made you come to Nashville?"
"Same as you. Wanted to perform on stage, get a record deal, tour and stuff. Write songs. That kinda thing."
She thought back to their conversation before. "You said you had kind of a hard life in Natchez. Is that part of why you came?"
He seemed to bristle a bit. "It was about the music," he said stiffly.
She sensed she'd hit a nerve, albeit unintentionally. She reached out and touched his arm. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know you said your mom died. And that she was sick. So I just thought, you know."
He sat back and closed his eyes for a second. Then he breathed out. "It wasn't just that. My dad was, well, he was kind of a bad man."
She frowned. "What do you mean? Was he a criminal or something?"
He shook his head and looked at her. "He was a drunk. A mean drunk. I spent most of the time trying to stay out of his way."
That both surprised her and made her want to reach out and hug him at the same time. "That's terrible, Deacon."
He stared out the windshield. "We never knew what he'd be like when he came home. Most of the time it was bad." He breathed in, then sighed, looking down at his lap. "He used to hit us. A lot. Specially my mom."
She felt tears in her eyes and she slid over closer so she could take his hand in hers. "I can't even imagine that. It had to be scary, living like that."
He looked at her, then pulled his hand from hers. "It was. Sometimes." He breathed in. "But, you know, he was my dad, and there was times when I wanted to just be with him. Do stuff you do with a dad. You know about that."
She looked down at her hands. "I don't know, Deacon." She looked back at him. "Daddy never hit us, but he was still scary. I know, when I was a little girl, that I wasn't afraid of him. And I'm not afraid of him now. Not really. But he's cold and he can be hateful. He's been like that for a long time, even since before my mom died." She reached out and put her hand on his arm again. "I know that's nothing like what you probably went through though." He looked at her and it took her breath away to see the hurt and pain in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Deacon. I really am."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry I told you. Now you'll just think I'm, you know, pathetic, or something."
"I don't think that at all. Truly." She smiled a little. "Thank you for sharing it with me. For feeling like you could." She breathed in. "I mean, we're friends, right?" He nodded. "Friends should be able to tell each other things." She rubbed his hand with hers.
The air seemed heavy all of a sudden. The way he was looking at her, the way it made her feel. She felt like she couldn't breathe and like her skin was on fire. She could still see the hurt in his eyes, but she also saw something that seemed like gratitude. She could see him swallow and she wondered if he might kiss her. But then he looked down and slowly pulled his hand from hers, then looked out the windshield again. "It's stopped raining," he said.
She turned to look. "Yeah, it has," she said softly. "I guess I should go." She slid back over on the seat and put her hand on the door handle. Then she looked back at him. "My father's going to be out of town over the weekend. Do you have any time we could meet and do a make-up?"
He looked at her and nodded. "Sunday afternoon."
She smiled. "I'd like that. And maybe you can help me with some writing." He nodded. "And I'd love to hear more of your songs."
He bit down on his lip and then he smiled. "Sounds good. One?"
She nodded. "I'll see you then." And then she let herself out of the truck and headed for her car.
####
He sat and watched as she hurried across the wet pavement. He watched as she got into her car and drove out of the park. He sat long after he could no longer see her. He thought about what he had shared with her, about his life. He'd really never shared that with anyone else before, not even Samantha. He still wasn't completely sure why he felt comfortable sharing with Rayna, although comfortable was not really the right word. He'd just felt like he could share it with her, that somehow she wouldn't judge him, even though he couldn't even imagine her knowing what that kind of life was all about. He wasn't completely sure if she was being compassionate or just pitied him, but he'd felt a little like she understood him better.
He had wanted to kiss her. But he didn't want to scare her. The touch of her hand on his had been electric and he'd felt a little overwhelmed by it. He wasn't completely sure, but he thought she might have felt the same way. He breathed in deeply and rubbed his hands over his face. What he did know, and he couldn't have articulated why he felt this way, was that Rayna Jaymes was going to be an important part of his life from this point on. He knew it as surely as he knew he would breathe every day.
Sunday was a bright, sunny day and he was waiting for Rayna at the park. He hoped she showed up, hoped he hadn't scared her away, and so he felt a sense of relief when he saw her car drive up. Since it was the weekend, she was wearing cut off shorts and a Vanderbilt t-shirt, along with a pair of well-worn boots, the ones he remembered her wearing at the Bluebird. He had to take a deep breath when he saw her. Her legs were long and lean and she had her hair pulled back into a ponytail. As she hopped up on the table, he saw that she wasn't wearing makeup, but he thought she looked even prettier without it. She smiled and he saw the freckles dancing across her nose, the sun bouncing off her reddish gold hair, lighting up her whole face.
"I'm so glad it's a nice day," she said.
He nodded. "Me too." He cleared his throat. "So, I was wondering if you might wanna go to an open mic with me tomorrow."
She frowned slightly. "I thought I wasn't supposed to be doing those anymore."
He shrugged. "Well, now that I'm on my own, I need to get out there as a solo. You can meet me there, if you want. You don't gotta perform."
"Where is it?"
"Place called Shotgun Sally's. Down in Murfreesboro."
She wrinkled her nose. "That's a long way from here."
He felt his heart sink a little. "It's okay. You don't gotta come."
She looked a little pensive and she took the time to take her guitar out of the case. She turned back to him. "What time is it?"
"Six. So early. You know, like the Bluebird. 'Fore the people they gotta pay."
She bit her lip. "I guess I could. Daddy's gone til Tuesday night." She smiled shyly. "Would you be willing to play guitar for me?"
He smiled a little. "I could, but you can still play some too. Don't forget, you gotta work at it."
She made a face. "I guess."
"You want to practice some songs?" He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you could do some harmony for me."
She grinned. "I would love to." She caught her breath. "Maybe we could perform together. Not the whole time, of course, 'cause I know you want to be a solo artist too, but we could."
He nodded. "I'd like that."
They spent the afternoon practicing songs they could do together. He taught her a couple songs he'd written and she shared with him the songs she'd written that were finished. Almost before they knew it, the sun was getting low in the sky.
"Wow, it's late," she said, glancing at her watch. "Almost five. I didn't realize we'd been here that long." They both got up and put away their guitars.
"You're getting better, Rayna," he said. "Really."
She smiled up at him. "Thanks." She bit down on her lip. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"
He nodded. "Be there by five thirty."
"I can't wait." Then she turned to walk back to her car, and he stood watching her.
####
She pulled into the parking lot of Shotgun Sally's at five thirty on the dot. She had plotted out the route on the map, which was in the passenger seat. She raised the top on her car and then got out, walking around to the back to get her guitar out of the trunk. She was tingling with excitement. Before she walked in, she took the bandana off her head that kept her hair in place, stuffing it in her purse, and smoothed her hands down over her denim skirt.
She walked up to the door, conscious of the fact that there were guys standing outside looking her up and down. She heard a whistle and a 'damn, that's a purty girl there', but she ignored it. It made her feel self-conscious and a little nervous, so she hurried inside. She stood just inside the door, letting her eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside and then looked around for Deacon. She finally spied him standing over near the bar and she headed that way.
He turned just as she approached. "Hey, Deacon," she said, with a smile.
He looked strangely nervous and she frowned just a little. "Uh, hey there, Rayna," he said. Then a very pretty, curvy blonde got up from the bar stool next to him and looked Rayna up and down. Rayna felt a twinge of anxiety.
The girl linked her arm through Deacon's, clinging to him possessively. She smiled at Rayna, but her smile didn't quite reach her cat-like green eyes. "I'm Samantha," she said. "Deacon's girlfriend."
Rayna swallowed. It was very clear to her that this Samantha was laying her claim to Deacon and, in no uncertain terms, warning Rayna to stay clear. She took a deep breath, wondering how exactly the night would go.