We came home to Nashville two and a half weeks later for a ten day break. I didn't have another diva dip on the tour, although I still was more uncomfortable than I liked. But it was better and I didn't want to make another scene, so I tried to control any irritation I was feeling. I was pretty sure Deacon knew, but he was careful to follow my lead and I had to admit that he knew how to make me feel more in control. While we were in town I had scheduled my ultrasound. Deacon was coming with me and I had told him that we might be able to find out the sex of the baby and asked if he wanted to know. He just kind of shrugged and said he didn't care, that he just wanted to know the baby was ok. I definitely did though. I knew that babies weren't always in the right position to see that at an ultrasound; I had been warned about that when I was pregnant with Maddie. But she had cooperated and I hoped the new baby would as well.

Whenever Deacon and I talked about the baby, he was very reluctant to talk about whether it would be a boy or a girl. I couldn't get him to tell me if he had a preference. I always assumed that men would want boys, to take on the family name, to hunt or fish with them – not that Deacon hunted, but he did like to go fishing at the cabin. I smiled to myself thinking about him walking out to the lake with his fishing pole and Maddie trailing along after him with a little toy fishing pole. They would sit on the dock and Maddie would steal glances at her daddy and try to copy his every movement. She was quite a daddy's girl.

As I thought about how much Maddie adored Deacon, I felt a sudden wave of sadness come over me. Growing up, Tandy had always been Daddy's little girl. After Mom died, I had wanted Daddy to love me the way he did Tandy. I was always trying to impress him, but he never was as interested in the things I liked the way he was with my sister. Later on, I guessed it was because I looked so much like Mom and because I had inherited her love of music. I still didn't understand why he had been so against my wanting a career in music and why he had fought me all these years. He had never been to see me perform. Every time I played at the Grand Ole Opry, I would invite him, but he would stubbornly refuse to come. I felt the tears well up and I angrily brushed them aside. I would not feel disappointment about Daddy. It was his loss.

Deacon and I had given Maddie a small guitar for her last birthday. She was so fascinated, and always had been, with Deacon's guitars. The one we gave her was a real one, just her size. Even though she was a child, she seemed to have been blessed with the gift of music. She would copy Deacon and could do simple chords on her own. She had a pretty singing voice, even as childlike as it was. I was conflicted as to how I felt about that. She clearly had gotten her love of music from Deacon and me. It was probably inevitable that a child of ours would have talent, even multiple musical talents. But knowing how hard this business was, and how random it could be that someone would make it big, worried me for her. What would happen if, one day, she came to us and said she wanted to be a performer? I wanted so much for her. I wanted her to have choices, choices that I felt like Deacon and I had not had. I definitely loved our life and I would never want to do anything else but this, but I worried about what might happen in her future.

The baby started kicking and that made me focus attention on him or her again. I rested my hand on my stomach, just feeling the movements. Would this baby be a musical baby too? Or something else entirely? I wondered again if Deacon wanted a son. He was a good father to our daughter, both sweet and fiercely protective. But would he like a son this time? Would he be disappointed if it were not? If I was honest, I wanted another girl. I loved all the girly stuff and I was happy that Maddie did too. It would be fun to have two girls to laugh with, to play dress up with, to share secrets with. Deacon had been very stubborn though in not committing to a preference. He didn't care, he said. But I wasn't completely sure that was true.

He was at another meeting. My signal these days that he was walking a fine line was an uptick in meeting attendance. Since I'd been pregnant, there had been more times when he seemed to need that extra support. I knew that it brought up all those old hurts and I worried. But I was also comforted by the fact that he sought out that kind of support and not the kind he used to find in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. He still told me his number every night, I think as much for himself as to let me know that he was keeping his promise to me.

I felt closer to him than ever these days. Going through this together this time was such a gift. Even though I knew he couldn't help but think about missing out on this with Maddie, he seemed to be fascinated by all the changes. I figured it was all the hormones going on in my body, but my desire for him had not changed at all. In fact, it seemed to have ramped up. I was just happy that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. As I got bigger, we had to be more creative, but that just seemed to make sex that much more exciting for both of us. I smiled to myself as I felt that quiver of need, even now.

I was waiting on the porch when he drove up. I got up from the porch swing and met him halfway down the walk. He smiled at me and wrapped me up in his arms, kissing me deeply. "Mm, missed you," he said against my mouth.

"Missed you too. Did you have a good meeting?"

He nodded. "I did." He looked in my eyes and then reached out to put a lock of my hair behind my ear. "I don't want you to worry. I'm ok."

I smiled. "I know. I'm just glad you're doing this."

He smiled back at me. "Are you ready to go?" I nodded and he took my hand, leading me back down the walkway to his truck. We didn't say much on the way to the doctor's office, just held hands. This could be a very big day.

The ultrasound technician prepped me and then turned on her machine. Deacon was standing next to my head, holding my hand. He had seemed very nervous, chewing his lip, rubbing his mouth, rocking back and forth. I squeezed his hand and smiled at him. I knew this was a big deal for him and I was so glad he was there. The technician put the wand on my stomach and started to move it, periodically clicking to mark things. "Everything looks good," she said, as she worked. "The baby seems to be progressing normally. Heartbeat is strong." She looked at us with a smile. "Do you want to know the sex?"

I smiled and nodded, looking up at Deacon. He looked a little scared. "Deacon? Is it ok to find out the sex of the baby?" I asked. He looked at me with a little panic in his eyes and nodded, almost hesitantly. I wasn't sure why this spooked him, but I looked back at the technician and smiled. "Yes, we do."

She moved the wand around a little and then stopped. "You're in luck. A lot of times babies don't present themselves well enough to tell but yours apparently wants to show off." She pointed at the screen. "It's what we call the Hamburger Sign. There's the labial lips, in the shape of a bun, and there's the clitoris, like the meat." She looked back at us. "It's a girl."

"A girl! Maddie will be so happy!" I cried. I looked up at Deacon and he looked like he wanted to pass out. "Babe, are you ok?"

He looked at me. "How can a baby have…you know."

It took me a second to realize that he'd been a little freaked out by the technician using technical terms. I smiled at him. It was a little odd to think of your baby with girl parts. "It's not like she's going to use them right away," I said.

Deacon frowned. "She's not going to use them ever." He exhaled deeply. "Maddie either."

I had to laugh at that. "Well, I think we have a long time before we have to worry about that with either one of them."

He shook his head, still scowling. "No. Never." I couldn't keep from smiling at him. I loved seeing this protective father side of him.

After the appointment was over, we picked up sandwiches and took them to the bend in the river where we liked to go. It was one of those gift summer days in Nashville, a warm, but not hot day, with little humidity and a light breeze. A nice day to be outside. We settled on the table and ate quietly. I was always hungry, it seemed like, and I felt like I inhaled my sandwich. Then I leaned against Deacon's side and he put his arm around me. "Are you ok with it being a girl?" I worried that he would be disappointed not to have a son.

He nodded. "I'm glad it's a girl."

That surprised me. "Really?"

"Yeah." All of a sudden he seemed like he was fighting tears. "I'd be afraid to have a son, Ray," he said quietly.

I sat up and turned to look at him. "Why, babe?"

He inhaled sharply and I could see tears in his eyes. He covered his mouth with one hand, grabbing mine with the other. I could see that he was fighting something and it scared me a little, not knowing what it was that was bothering him. Finally he moved his hand and looked at me. "I never told you about my father. But he was a drunk. Like me." Then he shook his head. "No, not exactly like me. Worse. But I wasn't far behind. He was mean, Ray. He hurt us. My mom, Beth, me. That was a really bad life."

I was shocked. Deacon had never told me about growing up or much about his life before I'd met him. I had met Beth, of course, and I knew they were very close, even though they didn't see each other often. I knew his parents were both dead, had been since before I'd met him. But I hadn't realized Deacon had grown up with a father who was an alcoholic. "But if you're not like him, why would you be worried?" I asked.

He struggled to keep from crying. I never understood that about men. Seemed to me that a good cry could help, but I guess that was one of the things that made us different. He inhaled deeply and ran his hand over his face. When he started talking, he didn't look at me, as though if he did, he'd lose control. "He used to tell me that I would be just like him. After he'd beat me for something I'd done. Or even if I'd done nothing at all, just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He beat up my mom. He beat up Beth. That's why she left home finally." He stopped and took in a ragged breath. "I was so afraid of him, Ray. He was a big man and pretty strong anyway, but when he was drunk, it was like he was Superman. He was ten times worse. He was a mean man period, but it was worse when he drank." He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "He drank whiskey. He even tried to get me to drink it, when I was a kid, but I wouldn't do it. He always told me that I would grow up to be just like him, that there was no way it wouldn't happen, so I was afraid. I was afraid to take even one sip because I was afraid I would like it. And that then I would be just like him." He stopped for a minute to regain some control. It scared me to see him so close to the edge like this. I reached out and just rubbed his back as he continued. "And see, that was the thing. When I did try it one day, I did like it. He was passed out on the porch and there was a glass of whiskey on the table next to him. I had just turned sixteen. Beth had been gone a couple years. Every time he drank he would offer the bottle to me and then he'd laugh when I'd say no. So I thought, just that one time, I'd taste it and I'd hate it and that would be it. But I liked it. I liked the burn when it went down my throat, the heat in my gut, and when I'd drank the whole glass, I liked the buzz. And it scared the hell out of me."

"Oh, babe," I breathed. I'd had no idea.

He looked at me, his eyes red, his face full of pain and shame. "That's when I left. I couldn't stay there and have him taunt me with the fact that I was just like him. So I had to leave. And you know. I was a drunk. I am a drunk. Just like him."

I shook my head. "No, you're not just like him. You were never like that."

He frowned. "Yeah, I was. How many fights did you have to get me out of? How many times did you bail me out of jail? How many times did I smash a guitar or a kitchen full of dishes or an entire living room?"

I looked away. He was right. He'd done all of those things. He had been a mean drunk. I knew that. That was the reason I'd left him all those times. It was what had broken me, finally, and put me on the path that led to Teddy and that awful lie. It had nearly destroyed me, not physically, but mentally. It surprised me a little to realize how the last four years had erased so much about that time. But I felt it again. I felt the hopelessness and the fear, the pain and the hurt, as though it were yesterday. But he'd changed. He wasn't that person anymore.

"Rayna, I didn't want to be like him. I didn't want to do what he did. That was one reason I was scared to ever have a family. Why I never talked to you about it. I was so glad you never brought it up, because I wasn't sure I could handle it. I didn't want to even try." I could hear the hitch in his breathing as he struggled to control himself. "When you came to my house with Maddie, I was so scared. I was scared the whole first year of her life. I was so afraid I'd hurt her. I wake up every day, still, and I remind myself to not be my father. I love that little girl so much it hurts, and I would never want to do anything to disappoint her."

I started to cry. I hadn't realized the struggle he was going through. I understood so much more now about what he was feeling. All I wanted to do was make him understand that he wasn't his father, that he had succeeded in not being that person.

"I'm relieved, Ray," he went on. "Another girl. That makes all the difference. Maybe I could do it with a son, but I'm glad I don't have to. I tell myself that I'll never hurt a child, not the way my father did. I spend every day writing a different story for my life and this just makes it easier." He turned and looked at me with those puppy dog eyes that always melted my heart. He reached out and put his hand on my stomach. "This makes me strong. And you. You make me strong. It's all good."

I breathed out. Then I leaned in to him, put my hands on his face and drew him in for a long, lingering kiss. "Thank you for telling me, babe," I said, tears streaming down my face. "But just know that you are not your father, any more than I am mine. I'm so proud of everything you've done the last four years. You are not your father." And we sat there for a long time, just holding each other and drawing strength from each other, just like we did every single day.