Disclaimer: I don't own or make money off of the WWE, OVW and their employees, Barbie or make any money any other way there is to make money. Ha!
Summary: John Cena's life is flipped around when he has to go find an old girlfriend and a kid he never knew existed. What will happen to the life he has always known now?
Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/puts this story on alert. I really appreciate the fact you're taking the time to read my story. Please read and REVIEW! So then I'll know what you lot are thinking about all of this. D
Walk the Line
Chapter Three:
John Cena had never realized that when Rachael had talked about the tiny country town she lived in, that she hadn't been exaggerating at all. There was literally one street. There wasn't a stop light and in some places there wasn't even freaking lines of paint on the road! How did they drive with no lines to guide them? How could they judge where they were on the road?
John grumbled as he pulled off the road and let the few vehicles that were behind him, pass him. He also wanted to know how the people here drove so fast when the road was always curving around and around. He couldn't get past thirty five miles per hour and these people were going around fifty five and some faster then that! He shook his head as he drove back onto the road and started looking for the street that Amanda had said Rachael and Gracie lived on.
An hour later John was sitting at a little gas station looking down at his directions and looking up towards the road. He didn't get it, he just didn't get it. He had looked and looked for that road and he had never once even caught a glimpse of it. How could that be if the road didn't fork off anywhere? It was a straight shot! Yet, John couldn't find the road at all.
He gave a frustrated sigh and did the one thing it seemed all males hated doing. He asked for directions. John got out of his car and went into the small gas station. It was crammed with junk food, magazines, a little deli, coolers and all sorts of stuff. John let the door shut and saw that there were only two people in the place: the cashier, who was a middle aged woman and an older man who was talking to her from across the counter. John stepped up behind the man and waited patiently for his turn.
"Did you see in the Star about how they arrested all those people at Prater?" the old man said.
"Yea, you knew they'd catch'em eventually. Everyone knows drugs are bad up there; it was only a matter of time. Especially since they voted in that new sheriff, Eugene Mullins, I heard he was going to clean up this county good," the woman replied.
"Hopefully, too many people stuck on all that and ruining their lives," the old man groused.
The woman nodded and finally looked up, "Oh! Sorry there, I didn't see you. Can I help you?" she asked John politely.
John nodded his head and when the older man stepped out of the way, John went to the counter and laid his directions down on it and said, "I'm trying to find somebody, but I can't seem to find this road," he said.
"Well you're not from around here! Where are you from?" the old man asked.
John looked at the old guy and blinked. What did it matter if he wasn't from here? "No I'm not, I'm from Massachusetts," he answered him.
"Massachusetts! Well that's a long way from home for you. Who are you looking for anyways?" he asked and the cashier nodded her head in agreement of his question.
"Rachael Roark?" John asked more then answered. What did they care who he was trying to meet up with? He just wanted to know where she was.
"Who?" the old man asked.
"Oh I know her, yeah, her and little Grace come in here all the time," the woman smiled at John, "They don't live too far away. You just have to go down the road this way and then when you get by that old barn on the right take an immediate left onto that road. That's the road you're looking for," she said.
"Oh okay," John said nodding his head. He sort of remembered passing by an old barn a few times.
"Yeah, the road sign got knocked down a few months ago when Joe Perry's kid wrecked," she said, "Ran it right over and then hit the hillside with his car."
"Totaled it right?" the old man asked, "I bet his dad was mad."
"You know he was, Joe has a terrible temper," the cashier answered, "Anyways just go that way, you can't miss it okay?"
John nodded his head again, "Okay, thanks," he said and quickly left the station and got back in his car. He shook his head and wondered why those people liked to gossip so much. He turned his car on and headed down the road. It didn't take long before he did see the old barn that John was pretty sure the cashier was talking about. He slowed his car down as he came abreast to it and looked to his left.
That was not a road.
It was most certainly not a road. No, no, no. What John saw was a narrow, gravel maybe you could call it a driveway at best, but definitely not a road. By now John had stopped his car completely in the middle of the road and was looking back between the barn and the gravel path. Maybe it was a driveway, Rachael's driveway. Then why would it need its own street name though? John shook his head. Might as well try it, he had nothing better.
John slowly turned his car onto the gravel path and slowly made his way through. It was straight for awhile, but then gently curved to the right, around a large hill. When he made his way around it he saw two houses on the same side of the road. Neither one was yellow with brown shudders, like Amanda had said Rachael's was like and so John slowly drove past them. The path continued up a little hill and when John was going down it he saw a trailer on his right. There were a couple kids playing out in the yard and an old woman sitting out on the open porch they had built onto it. She waved at him. John gave her a small wave back. Maybe she was a WWE fan; why else would she wave at him?
John continued on as he saw another couple of houses and trailers and finally when John was wondering how long this was going to take he saw it; a tiny house that was a light yellow with dark brown shudders, roof and porch that stretched the entire front length, which wasn't all that long. John saw there was a blue cavalier sitting in front of it and he pulled in beside of it.
This time John didn't hesitate about getting out of his vehicle. He got out and shut his door with a loud thud. John didn't know if he had shut the door too hard or if it had just sounded so loud, because it was so quiet here. No street noise could be heard, no neighbor noise, no any noise. Hell, John could only see two other houses from here and none of them were all that close.
John moved to the steps and quickly jogged up them and to the front door. He knocked and took a step back, waiting for Rachael to answer. John shifted his weight from one foot to the other and stuck his hands in his shorts pockets and then pulled them out again. He looked around, but wasn't really seeing anything in his nervous state. The creak of the door made John turn and for the first time in about five years he looked into the eyes of Rachael Roark.
"Hey," she said quietly, leaning against the open door and looking at him.
"Hey," John said back. Now what did he say? He didn't know and it was so agitating.
They just stared at each other for awhile, hours, seconds, John didn't really know.
"Come in, will you?" she asked him hesitantly.
John wondered if she thought he would actually say no, "Yea, okay," he said and stepped forward and letting himself into her home.
Rachael shut the door behind him as John took in where Rachael lived, where Gracie lived. It was small, much smaller then he was used to. Not that it bothered him really, it was just that John wasn't used to it. Compact wasn't John's thing.
John couldn't help checking out where Rachael and Gracie lived. He had first stepped into a living room that had a couch and television in it. There was a small side table beside of the couch, a couple bookshelves, and some pictures hanging on the walls and there were toys everywhere. John could see that there were two white doors to his left and one opposite those two in the living room. He guessed these were bedrooms or something. The wall opposite John held two archways and he could see hints of a small kitchen in one and a dining room in the other.
"John?" Rachael asked quietly as she had watched him checking out where she lived. He turned to her, "Want to have a seat?" she asked him.
John nodded his head silently and sat on the couch as it was closest to him. Rachael moved past him and sat on the other end of the couch. A cushion separated them, but it felt like a mile. "Rachael," John said gruffly, struggling with what to say and losing the battle. He just looked at her perplexed and shrugged his shoulders.
Rachael looked away from him and sighed. She knew that this would probably happen one day and it wasn't easy. Not at all, not when John had suddenly reappeared and was looking at her with those lost blue eyes of his. What was she supposed to say? She didn't know.
"John, I just," she started and then stopped. "I didn't mean," she tried again, but stopped. She kept her mouth shut after that, Rachael didn't know what to say. John was just looking at her and she was ashamed to realize that she didn't know what he was thinking. The man who had helped her to create another life, a life she loved more then her own, and she had no idea who he was anymore. Rachael covered her face with her hands and was silent.
John could only watch Rachael. She looked guilty as hell and upset about it. He didn't feel badly about that. It was Rachael who had decided to keep him from everything and now he wasn't going to feel badly for her when she had to come clean to him face to face. John did want answers though and Rachael sitting there quietly wasn't going to help him. "Rachael," he said and when she shook her head he repeated, "Rachael. Hey, look at me." Rachael did look up and her brown eyes held many emotions, all swirling together. He decided to give her a little break and indulge himself as well, "Tell me about her," John asked.
Rachael made a surprised noise in her throat. She hadn't been expecting John to ask her that. Not yet anyways, maybe not even ever. Rachael had been so scared when her Aunt Amanda had called and told her that John had found out about Gracie and would be at her house the next day. She knew he'd be angry, who wouldn't be? What Rachael was scared of though was if John only wanted to tell Rachael off about it and get her address so he could send a check every month and that would be it.
John had always been a good person and Rachael knew that John would not be able to just forget about Gracie like she didn't exist. It just wasn't John's nature to treat people like they didn't exist, especially family. What she was afraid of was that John wouldn't care and love Gracie enough to be an actual part of her life, like how she knew Gracie would want him to be. To see her daughter's heartbroken face for all the next birthdays and Christmas's and ball games and whatever else when Gracie would look for John and he wouldn't be there would be terrible. The only way Gracie would know anything about him was from her and from the way he wrote a check out every month and sent her. It wouldn't be fair to Gracie and Rachael hated the thought of it.
"Rachael," John said again, making Rachael actually focus her eyes and mind on the man in front of her and not a possible future ahead of her.
"I'm sorry John. I just want you to know that I'm really sorry. I swear I have my reasons, so many reasons. It's just that," and Rachael stopped again, but this time because of the large hand that was laid on top of hers. She looked at his wide hand on top of her smaller one and then up at his broad face. He had crossed that cushion so easily to her that it was a little scary.
"We'll talk about all that later," he told her, "Right now just tell me about her."
"Gracie?" Rachael asked a little dazed that John was asking about Gracie like he really wanted to know. That hope that she hadn't dared to hope for.
"No," John said seriously, "Pamela Anderson," he dead panned.
"Jerk!" Rachael groaned slapping his hand. Did he have to make a joke out of everything? But Rachael was smiling now and so were he and all the tension in the room seemed to be taking a break. It allowed Rachael to breathe and clear her mind a little. How do you start off telling the father of your child about said child? What would be important for them to know?
"Grace Ann Elizabeth is four years old. She loves peas and carrots and hates the lizard on the Geico commercials. She loves the color green. Gracie is spoiled rotten. She likes being in pre-school now and has a best friend named Zoe. She likes Sesame Street, and anything that comes on Nickelodeon or the Disney Channel," Rachael said smiling. This was only the tip of the iceberg. Rachael knew she could tell someone about Gracie all day long if they'd sit and listen to her.
John couldn't help but smile. Not only because he was finding out about his daughter, but because Rachael was smiling widely now, showing off every tooth in her head. It reminded him of the way his mom used to talk about him and his brothers to other people when they'd ask about what they had been up to. It was the look of a proud and happy parent. "More," he demanded.
Rachael pondered the ceiling for a moment and then said, "Come here," suddenly standing and walking to the door that was by itself. John followed behind her and wondered why she was leading him to this room.
Rachael opened the door and stepped inside. John followed her in and found himself in a bedroom and judging by the decorations and objects in said room, John would say that this was Gracie's bedroom.
It was a small bedroom, but plenty big enough for a small child and her things. It was painted a soft mint green and the two windows allowed plenty of sunshine into the room. There was a small twin bed pushed under one of the windows and it was decorated with pink bedding. There was also a small white desk underneath the other window that seemed to be buckling under all of the crayons, markers, pencils, pens, paper, paint, brushes and all matter of other art things the kid seemed to like. His kid liked art, it made John's stomach flip. There was a menagerie of more toys in the floor and John wanted to know what each toy was and why Gracie liked it.
"Well this is it. Gracie's little room," Rachael said as she side stepped a Barbie doll house and sat on the bed. John kept looking around and knew there was a wealth of knowledge about Gracie in this room. All the things she liked and wanted to do, where she dreamed and played. It was a lot for John to take in and he didn't think it would hit him as hard as it was.
She was a real person. Gracie was an honest to God real person and John had helped create her. He knew it sounded stupid, but the reality of it was overwhelming and the past few days seemed to catch up with him at that moment. His head spun and he shut his eyes, darkening the entire visual stimulus that was assaulting him.
"John are you alright?" Rachael asked worriedly. John had lowered his face and wasn't saying or moving or anything and it worried her.
"Yeah," John said weakly. It was okay that he had a daughter and she had a life. It was okay. It was. "Yeah," he said again and finally looked up and around the room again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He then walked over and sat beside of Rachael on the bed. He picked nervously at the sheets not wanting to look at her.
"John," Rachael said quietly and knew by the way his body stiffened that he was listening to her even though he wasn't looking to her, "I want to tell you why I did what I did five years ago when I first found out about Gracie," she said and took a deep breath. It was time to come clean.
TO BE CONTINUED