Chapter Seven
Second Trimester
"Oh my gosh – all these beautiful outfits and I'm not going to be able to wear any of them for who knows how long!" Rayna gazed at the sea of clothing scattered across her queen-sized bed and crossed her arms over her chest with a long sigh.
"It won't be forever, honey. You'll be back in these things again before you know it. And by then, guess what? It'll be like they're brand new." Tandy smiled, handing over a clutch of hangers. "Here – these things might just work a little while longer. Try them on."
Rayna unwound her robe and tossed it onto a nearby armchair. She gazed at her body, clad only in a bra and panties, in the full-length mirror nearby. She had always watched her diet and worked out, but she'd also been lucky. She'd taken after the Wyatt side of her family, where everyone was naturally tall and slender.
But now that she was in her second trimester, it was obvious that her body was changing. It was exciting – but also unnerving – to watch her long-familiar planes and angles filling out into curves. She'd had to pick up larger-sized bras and her tummy was definitely swelling; so much so that she'd called her sister in for a wardrobe consult.
Tandy had dropped over on her lunch hour to help Rayna decide what she could – and couldn't - get away with for another month or so. She'd also agreed to take the bulk of Rayna's extensive wardrobe back to her house, where she had ample storage space. Rayna's apartment had just two clothes closets, her own and the one in her spare room. She expected that one to begin filling up with baby clothes and gear before too long.
Rayna shrugged into a loose-fitting, sleeveless striped jumper, finding that it still buttoned up the front. "See? There's one that'll work just fine for a while," Tandy said, brightly.
"How come it's all the ugly stuff that still fits?" Rayna grumbled.
"Well, it's not like you own a lot of clothes that aren't skin tight, Miss Miniskirt," Tandy said, smiling and shaking her head.
Rayna rolled her eyes and struggled into a blouse and short skirt. She reached back but found that the waistband wouldn't close. Tandy shook her head. "No good. Hand it over," she said. "When do we get to go shopping for maternity clothes?"
"Ugh – have you seen that stuff? Plaids and big puffy bows? It doesn't look like you're having a child, it looks like you're becoming a child."
"Oh, come on. They've got some better-looking styles now. Besides, think of all the fun we'll have getting a new wardrobe for you."
They smiled at each other.
Although Tandy had made it clear that she thought Rayna was unwise to turn down Teddy's marriage proposal, she and her sister had made up quickly. Rayna needed her. And Tandy wasn't about to be left out of this exciting time in her little sister's life.
Rayna had just stripped down to her underwear again when her computer made a chirping noise. Rayna tossed the too-small items to Tandy and hurried into the other bedroom, stopping in front of a desk and bending down to look at the screen. She smiled and tapped something out on the keyboard.
"What's that?" Tandy asked, appearing in the doorway.
"My AIM," Rayna said, adding "AOL instant messenger" when Tandy looked at her blankly. Rayna watched the screen intently for a moment and then laughed when another chirp sounded.
"Someone's sending you messages? Who?"
"Dave, my next-door neighbor. He's so funny. He IM's me from the doctor's lounge at Vanderbilt when he's on break. He keeps teasing me about when I'm going to get him tickets to a show so he can finally hear me sing."
"The doctor's lounge?" Tandy inquired.
Rayna looked up when she heard her sister's tone. "Oh stop it," she scoffed, "we're just friends."
Tandy raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Do I need to remind you that I'm not exactly in the right shape to be looking for a man at this moment?" Rayna said, placing her hands on her burgeoning abdomen.
Tandy tilted her head, studying her sister critically for a moment, then gasped. "Oh my god! You're back with Deacon!"
"No, I'm not," Rayna snapped crossly, leaving the computer and returning to her bedroom.
"Honey, you can't fool me. You've got that dreamy look on your face just thinking about him."
"Tandy, you're nuts, you know that?" Rayna muttered, pulling another dress over her head in hopes of changing the subject. "What do you think about this?" She smoothed her hands over her belly and turned sideways, looking in the mirror. A small but obvious tummy pooched out, straining the black silk fabric. "Damn it!"
"You've seen him though, haven't you?"
Rayna pulled the too-tight black number over her head, wrestling with it as the zipper got caught up in her hair, then threw it on the bed. Annoyed, she faced her sister, hands on her hips, a hunk of hair sticking out comically to one side.
"Yeah, I saw him. What're you going to do about it, shoot me?" she asked, turning away to gather up the remaining items of clothing from her bed. "Call me crazy, but I happen to think a man who has a child coming into this world deserves to hear about it in person."
The doorbell rang. Rayna picked up her robe and looked over at Tandy. "Hey, would you get that? It's Bucky. He's bringing over lunch. He and I have some serious planning to do."
Tandy wasn't finished discussing Deacon, but she turned reluctantly and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Rayna hung her robe on the hook in her bathroom, then looked in the mirror and smoothed her hair down. She selected a pair of pants and a shirt from the small pile of clothes that still fit and slowly pulled them on.
Tandy's inquiry reminded her of how much she regretted the way she'd told Deacon about the baby. Blurting it out angrily was hardly how she'd imagined letting him know he was going to be a father. Breaking the news over a romantic dinner, or cuddled up in bed with him on a lazy Sunday morning. That was much closer to what she'd envisioned.
She thought back on that day in the park, now close to a month ago. It had been wrenching to walk away from him after he'd said he loved her. But she'd done it. And she'd stuck with her plan to give him time to concentrate on his recovery. They hadn't seen each other since that day, though he'd been calling in the evenings once or twice a week.
The telephone conversations would start pretty typically. "Hey Ray, how you doin'?" But now he always followed up with another question: "And how's the kid?" It made Rayna smile, hearing the shy concern in his voice, and the way he always referred to the baby as "the kid." Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to tell him that they were having a girl. Not yet. She would keep that little detail to herself for a while.
She knew Deacon still felt ambivalent about becoming a father, but at least the news hadn't caused him to fall off the wagon. She worried, at first, when he told her that he'd argued with Coleman and asked him to step aside as his sponsor. She suspected that it was Cole's advice to her to cut Deacon loose that had caused a rift between the two men.
But she felt better when Deacon told her that his counselor from rehab had agreed to sponsor him. She hadn't met Gus, but it sounded like the two of them had developed the kind of casual, teasing banter that always seemed to put Deacon at ease with people.
Now, she buttoned her pants, straightened her shirt, and walked out into her living room, where Tandy and Bucky were laying out sandwiches and chips on the coffee table. "Thank you for lunch, babe," she said, walking over to give Bucky a hug and a kiss.
"Happy to do it. How's the mama-to-be?" he said, taking a seat and smiling as he fixed himself a plate. Tandy disappeared into the kitchen, promising to return with the drinks.
"Well, the mama-to-be needs to go shopping. She's growing out of all her clothes," Rayna announced, smiling as she sat down on the couch across from Bucky. He'd been the first person to greet the news of her pregnancy with unreserved joy and she was still basking in his happy reaction. He'd been truly wonderful about the whole thing, especially since the two of them had spent considerable time planning a major concert tour for early the next year.
That would have to be put on hold indefinitely now. And what direction her career would take next, and how she was going to formally announce her pregnancy, were on today's agenda.
Bucky started right in. "I've been thinking, Ray. How about this: Why don't we have you go back into the studio this fall? That new song you've been rehearsing is dynamite. I know that's going to hit big as a single – and that'll be a great excuse for you to release a new album."
Rayna picked up a sandwich and a napkin and turned to take the glass of iced tea that Tandy was offering her. "Hmmm. I think we can do that. Why not? You really believe 'This Love Ain't Big Enough' is going to hit, huh? I mean, I love it. But I love all of them, you know that. You're the pro when it comes to predicting what's going to get airplay and what's not."
"Oh, this is definitely going to get played on the radio. I could see it hitting the top of the country charts. Maybe even crossing over into the top 10 on the pop charts."
Rayna gasped and then smiled. "Really? That's fantastic!"
"Well, it's a fantastic song," he said, putting down his half-eaten sandwich. "And you've definitely got enough quality material to build an album around it. I'll get working on that, then." He looked at her, his face turning apprehensive. "So, here's the other part. And hear me out, because I'm afraid you're not going to like this very much."
Both Rayna and Tandy, who had fixed herself a plate and sat down on the couch, stared at him. "What is it?" Rayna finally asked.
"Edgehill is really hot on the idea of you and Deacon playing some dates together. Not a full-blown tour but at least hitting a few of the well-known smaller venues."
"What the hell?!" Rayna nearly choked on her ham sandwich, fuming. "Don't tell me: They're thrilled that they can exploit my personal situation."
Bucky cringed. "Well, they'd never say that. But that's pretty much what it comes down to, yeah."
"Well, I can't do it! You know how much it means to me, keeping my private life private. What're they calling it, the 'love child tour'? I'm surprised I didn't see this one coming."
"I knew you'd hate the idea," he said apologetically. "I told them that you'd want no part of it, but they're insisting. You'll have to come in and talk them out of it, Ray. I'll just advise you - don't even mention the 'love child tour.' The promotions team would be all over that like white on rice."
Rayna groaned and rolled her eyes. "Buck, you know that Deacon and I are taking a break right now while he's getting back on his feet. Everything between us is totally up in the air. The last thing we need to be doing is getting up on stage and singing love songs to each other for the next six months."
"Well, it wouldn't be six months. It'd probably just be a handful of dates. I think we could persuade them to keep things pretty low-key. They want to bill it as an exclusive, small-venue tour that'll sell out overnight. Set you up with some great numbers so we can demand better contract terms and a bigger percentage when you do your next major tour." He caught the dismayed look on her face and hastened to add: "After your maternity leave, of course."
Rayna sighed. "I don't know, Buck. I mean, I understand that it's stupid to go into hiding just when I'm gaining momentum. I get that part of it, I really do. But Deacon – I mean, he just needs time to concentrate on getting better. I don't know what he'd say about the idea."
Bucky took his final bite of sandwich and balled his napkin up in his fist. "Well, think about it yourself, and talk to him about it. Whatever you decide, I'll go to bat for you. You know that."
Rayna nodded, picking up another sandwich; tuna salad this time. "Thanks, babe. I'll do that."
"Oh, and before I forget: We need to think about what we want to say in the press release. Word about the baby hasn't leaked yet, but you know it's only a matter of time. It's always better if we announce it first. Get out in front of it."
"Yeah, I know. Well, what can we say? Just that I'm expecting, and the baby's due in February. Right?"
Bucky grimaced. "Well, what about the father? I mean, you're unattached, so that's going to be the first thing the press is going to ask about. I was thinking we could say something like, 'Country music legend Rayna Jaymes-"
"Legend?! Really? I mean, I'm flattered, but I don't think I've been around quite long enough to qualify as a legend, Buck."
"Hmm. How about 'Country music superstar Rayna Jaymes-"
"Superstar? Oh yeah, I like the sound of that." Rayna looked over at Tandy and winked.
"… and her long-time partner and musical collaborator Deacon Claybourne are expecting their first child in February.' Does that work?"
"I guess so," Rayna said, dubiously. "Better hold off on that for a few days. Let me talk to Deacon, at least let him know what's happening. Okay?"
"Sure. But let's not wait too long. Like you said, your wardrobe's changing. This baby news is going to come out pretty soon one way or another." Bucky took a sip of his Coke. "Oh, hey, I had another thought. Why don't you take 'This Love Ain't Big Enough' to The Bluebird? Try it out at open mic night; we'll have some of the guys show up too, to do backup. I can't wait to see the reaction to that one."
"A daddy, huh? That's great! Congratulations, man." Gus stuck his hand across the formica diner table, beaming at Deacon. "This your first?"
"Um, yeah. Definitely," Deacon said, shaking Gus's hand and mustering a weak smile.
"Well, I'll tell you what, I got three of 'em. First one's the hardest, no question. After this one, they'll all be smooth sailin'."
"All? Jesus, Gus. Every time I think about just this one bein' on the way, I feel like – I dunno, I feel like my head's gonna explode or somethin'. Me, bein' someone's father? It's just … not a thing I ever really planned on."
"Lot of people don't plan on it. Doesn't mean it don't happen anyway," Gus said wryly, sliding his coffee cup out of the way so the waitress could set down their breakfast plates. "You're gonna be a natural, Deke. I mean, you'll have the whole lullaby thing sewed up right from day one, I know that. Gettin' 'em to go to sleep? That's a big deal the first few years."
Deacon thought about this. His ability to sing a crying baby to sleep hadn't even occurred to him. But he hadn't exactly been toting up his paternal attributes on the positive side of the ledger lately. He had been thinking more about his shortcomings, his internal balance sheet plummeting since Rayna had dropped the news on him. In fact, he'd been in a state of suspended panic for the past month - the desperate, continuous craving for alcohol clashing with an equally desperate determination to stay sober.
He felt like he was holding on, but only by the slimmest of threads. At least Rayna couldn't accuse him of not trying.
"Yeah, well, I suppose the singin' might come in handy," he finally admitted. "I just had such a miserable son-of-a-bitch for a father myself, I always figured it'd be kinder to spare any kid goin' through what I did."
"Oh, hell, most of us had terrible daddies – or none at all. My old man took one look at me and split, according to my mama. We never did see him again. She used to pray ever' night that the bastard was stuck at the bottom of a ditch somewhere, sufferin' and alone." Gus grinned and tucked into his bacon-and-eggs, his appetite seemingly untainted by his sad past.
"You're probably lucky you didn't meet him. My father beat on all of us for years and then, just after I turned 14, he ran his car off the road, blind drunk in the middle of the day," Deacon said. "Went right into the river. Took 'em somethin' like three days to find his body. I was just getting' big enough to whup his ass, and then he fuckin' died before I got my chance. That was about the worst disappointment of my life."
"Well, your old man was one of the bad ones. But you're not gonna be anything like him, Deke. I can see that right clear."
Deacon finished buttering his toast and cut open his chili-cheese omelette, stabbing a large piece with his fork. "What the hell do you know, man? I'm exactly like him. He always told everybody that and it turned out he was right about at least one thing in his miserable life. It's got me scared to death, I'll tell you, thinkin' about tryin' to raise a child. Rayna, too. I can tell."
Gus looked at him, his eyebrows raised. "What'd she say?"
"Told me to stay away from her and the kid 'til I can get my shit together." Deacon took a sip of his coffee. Gus was still staring at him. "I mean, she didn't say it exactly like that. But that's what she meant."
"Smart lady. So, how you figure you're gonna get your shit together anyway, Deke?"
Deacon sighed and shook his head. "Hell if I know, Gus. I mean, I try my best to stay straight, to sober up for her sake. Just never seems to stick. Rayna thinks I been doin' it for all the wrong reasons." He took another bite. "She says I deserve happiness. I can't even come near to wrappin' my head around that one."
Gus furrowed his brow. He'd counseled hundreds of addicts over the past decade and sponsored dozens. But he couldn't remember a single one as talented – or as tortured – as Deacon. Many of them had been ego-maniacs, eager to put the blame for their troubles on everyone and everything but themselves. He knew how to reach those guys, when it was possible.
But Deacon was a different type; one who blamed himself for everything that had ever gone wrong in his life or the lives of the people he loved. Whether it was as serious as a drunken friend dying behind the wheel, or as trivial as a cancelled tour date, Deacon seemed convinced he needed punishment for it. And he was doling out the punishment in heavy doses.
He was also very sensitive, taking every little setback to heart. Worst of all were the childhood memories that scared the hell out of him. He was bound and determined not to revisit them, but Gus knew that if he kept all that hurt bottled up, he would never stop trying to numb the pain with one addiction or another. He just had not been able to persuade Deacon of that.
"You don't deserve happiness? Well, I guess you're a special case, then. Different from every other person that walks this earth. The pursuit of happiness. Hell, it's in the fuckin' Constitution, man!"
Deacon looked up, confused. "I think that's in the Declaration of Independence." Gus shrugged – whatever - and took another bite of toast.
But Deacon was indignant and gearing up for an argument. "Now you listen to me one minute here. I already got so much I don't even begin to deserve in my life. Hell, just look at me! I came to Nashville when I was nothin' more than a kid with a beat-up guitar and two bucks in my pocket. I didn't know what the hell I was doin'. Part of it was just wantin' to get away from home. And then I met Rayna, and we started writin' together, and singin' together, and everything took off. Now here I am, recordin' my music and tourin' with the best, and making a damn good livin' just doin' what I was born to do. And to top it all off, I got a woman like her who loves me. And now she's havin' my kid?"
Deacon had put his coffee cup down and was gesturing with his fork. He inhaled deeply, blowing out the air forcefully while shaking his head. Gus hadn't known him very long, but he'd never seen Deacon so worked up.
"When the hell did I ever begin to deserve any of this? I'm a damn drunk, for chrissakes! And I'm a violent, dangerous drunk on top of it. I even got Ray kicked out of her apartment. She told me the neighbors were complaining about her, but that's a joke. Now I'm supposed to be a father? It fuckin' scares me to death, thinkin' about the damage I could do, just bein' around a child!"
Gus took a long drink of his coffee and mopped up the remaining egg yolk on his plate with his last bite of toast. Seeing Deacon this passionate was a good sign, he thought. A sign that the man might finally be ready to do the difficult work of recovery.
Gus took a deep breath and started talking slowly. "You're scared, huh? Well, join the fuckin' club, man. You're not the first and you're not gonna be the last, not by a long shot. You're gonna be a father? Then maybe you'd better man up. You know what's scarin' you, and so do I. And the only thing that's gonna help is talkin' about it - about what happened when you were a kid. Get it out there now that you're an adult, and take a good look at it in the light of day, 'stead of lettin' it turn every dream you ever had into a goddamn nightmare."
Deacon stared at him. Gus had pushed him occasionally when he was at Riverside, but never this hard. "I can't," he said, flatly.
"Can't? Or won't? 'Cause I think you can but you just don't want to."
"Fuck no, I don't want to! What's the point?" Deacon scowled. "Why should I dredge up all that ugly shit? I spent the last 20 years tryin' to forget it!"
"Yeah. An' how's that been workin' out for you, Deke?" Gus's voice was quieter, his eyebrows raised, looking Deacon directly in the eye. "Has stuffin' it all down inside made you forget one fuckin' minute of it? Has drinkin' yourself into a stupor every night made it go away?"
Deacon looked at him for a while, then dropped his gaze. "No. It hasn't. Nothin' makes it go away. I just don't know what good it's gonna do, bringin' it all back up again."
"Well, how 'bout you trust me when I say it's somethin' you gotta do, no matter how tough it is. And I'll be here to help you through it, I promise. I seen a lotta guys dealin' with the same crap, and seriously - you just gotta work through it, man. Find a way to forgive him."
Deacon's expression turned dark at that last suggestion, and Gus quickly changed course, fearing he would lose what little progress they were making. "Okay, maybe you can't forgive him, but at least find a way to forgive yourself. 'Cause you took all that bullshit on your back when you were just a little kid, Deke. It wasn't your fault."
"I should've done more. I could've done more. I was just – I was just a freakin' coward. I was so damn scared of that bastard," Deacon muttered, half to himself.
"And why was it your job to save everybody? You didn't have a mama, or a grandpappy or a uncle or anybody else who coulda stood up to him?"
Deacon groaned and raked his fingers through his hair. "My mama always said she loved him. I never understood it. He could be whalin' on her one minute and lovin' her up the next. Made me sick, to be honest with you. It still does. And here I am, doin' the same thing with Rayna."
"Oh, hell no, you're not! You ever laid a finger on that woman in anger?"
Deacon shook his head. "No. But I could've."
"But you didn't, no matter how fucked up you were." Gus reached across the table and grabbed Deacon's wrist. "Doesn't that count for somethin'? And you're never goin' to, neither. You're never gonna hurt her or this baby that's comin' along. I know that."
Deacon looked up, his eyes haunted and his face hollow. Gus might trust him, but he sure as hell didn't trust himself. And he was out of answers. Maybe it was time to trust someone else for a change. He sighed heavily again. "Okay, you win, man. What do I have to do? How about you start by just tellin' me that."
Deacon pushed through the door of the Bluebird Café carrying his guitar case. He stopped immediately and stared up at the stage. Rayna was there, belting out a no-holds-barred, "baby-I'm-a-dump-your-cheatin'-ass" number he'd never heard before, and half her band was there rocking on backup. He watched, as riveted as the rest of the audience by her performance.
"Make my day, you son of a gun, this love ain't big enough for the two of us," she sang, strutting across the small stage. "Gonna take what's left of this love and put it in the ground. It was a knock-down, drag out romance. Quick draw, honey let me see you dance. Look at who's the last one standing now ... this love ain't big enough for the two of us."
When the song came to a close with a rollicking flourish, the house erupted in applause, whistles and hollers. Most of the people around Deacon jumped to their feet. Rayna, flushed and out of breath, blew a kiss and took a little bow before she handed the microphone back to the emcee.
Deacon watched as she walked over to a table where a tall, sandy-haired man stood, still clapping. He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek before she turned to accept congratulations from the small crowd that had gathered around. Deacon saw that Bucky Dawes and several musicians he recognized were there.
Rayna was wearing black leggings and a long-sleeved, flowing lavender tunic that draped softly over what Deacon could tell was a small baby bump. On first glance it might not be obvious, but it looked to him like her pregnancy was becoming an open secret.
His heart skipped a beat watching her and he felt an extra-special sense of pride. He'd always known how supremely lucky he was that this gorgeous, talented woman had fallen in love with him. And now she was carrying his baby. In a few short months, she would be bringing his child into the world. His child. No matter what happened between them personally, they would always be connected by this new life they had created together.
That thought made him happier than he had been in months. He walked over to the bar and ordered a club soda, then looked back in her direction. She had shouldered her purse and was walking toward the door with the blond man he didn't recognize, the two of them laughing at what looked like some inside joke.
Deacon paid for his drink and picked it up, stepping in front of her. They might not be together, but there was no law saying he couldn't say hello to her in public.
She looked up and a big smile spread over her face. "Deacon! I wondered if you'd make it here tonight. I'm glad I didn't go on sooner or I might have missed you."
"Hey, Ray. Yup, I make a habit of bein' here most open mic nights." She kissed his cheek and slid her arm loosely around his neck, holding him close just long enough for him to feel her abdomen pressing against him. "That song you just did, Ray? Wow - that was somethin' else. You're gonna have a real big hit on your hands with that one."
"Yeah, you think so? That's what Buck says."
"Well, Bucky's usually right about that. It's a chart-topper if I ever heard one. When'd you write it?"
"Oh … a few months back," she said, evading his gaze. Hearing those song lyrics had led him to suspect that she had channeled the rage and pain of his forgotten proposal into her songwriting. Her reaction now confirmed that.
"Sorry Rayna, but we need to get going. My shift starts soon."
Rayna turned to look at the man standing behind her as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry to be so rude! Deacon, this is my neighbor, Dave. He's been wanting me to hear me sing, so he offered to bring me down here tonight."
So this was the good doctor. Deacon smiled and offered his hand. "Hey, nice to meet you, Dave. Rayna's told me about you, how you been helpin' her out. Thank you for that."
Dave shook his hand. "Well, I'll tell you, it's an honor to have such a big star living in our building. Just please don't believe a word she says about me; I've been her biggest fan for years. Got all her albums," he said, throwing Rayna a teasing smile. She smiled back at him and, in a gesture that was eminently familiar to Deacon, whacked him playfully on the arm. "I'm just sorry to have to drag her away so early. I'd love to hear her sing something else. But I'm working tonight."
"Well, we are getting pretty close to my bedtime these days," Rayna said. "But I actually need to talk to Deacon a minute. Dave, if you don't mind, I think I'll stay a little longer and get a ride home. It won't be a problem: Bucky can drive me."
Deacon looked around. "I'm pretty sure I saw him skedaddle a minute ago. Probably had a date. But I can give you a ride. If you don't mind listenin' to me do a song first," Deacon offered.
Rayna laid a hand on his arm. "That'd be real nice of you. Let me just say goodnight to Dave." The doctor nodded to Deacon and followed Rayna out the door. Deacon watched them, swallowing hard. He saw Rayna embrace Dave and kiss him on the cheek. She stood watching his car back out of the parking lot and waved goodbye to him before she came back inside. Deacon offered her a chair at a back table, stowing his guitar underneath it and sitting down next to her.
"So that's Dave, huh?"
"Yeah."
Deacon raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, not you too! Tandy was teasing me about him last week. Seriously, we're just friends. He's been – well, he's been a really good friend to me. He's easy to talk to. And he knows - about the baby, I mean. He's been wonderful about that too."
Deacon studied her a minute, then relented. "Well then, I'm glad to hear it. Lord knows you can use all the friends you can get about now. How are you, darlin'? You look-"
A warning glance from Rayna stopped him.
"What? I was gonna say you look beautiful."
"Well, thanks. And thanks for not saying pregnant or big. That's what everyone's been saying lately."
"Well, it is gettin' a little more obvious. But you are by far the most beautiful pregnant woman I've ever seen."
"Thanks," she said, smiling. "I'm glad I ran into you."
"Me too. How're you feelin'?"
"Good, actually. Got most of my energy back, which is a wonderful thing."
"Not queasy anymore?"
"No, though I'm off anything real strong-tasting or spicy. I'm eating lots of bland food right now. Eating for two, actually."
He laughed, then looked down at the table, hesitating. "So, how's ... the kid, anyway?"
"Seems to be fine. The other day, I even thought-"
"What?"
"I don't know. It's too early."
"For what?"
"I thought maybe I felt it moving. But that's not supposed to happen for a few more weeks."
"Movin'? What, like kickin'?"
"No…" she said slowly, a look of wonderment coming across her face. "It's hard to describe. Kind of like a moth fluttering, but from the inside, if you can imagine that."
"Really?" Deacon looked rapt.
"Yeah. Unless ... it was just indigestion."
He laughed. "Well, darlin', seein' as how it's yours, I wouldn't be one bit surprised if this kid is ahead of the game already."
"Mine? So you're not gonna take any credit, huh?"
"We'll both be lucky if this child takes after you 100 percent, Ray."
"Not if this child decides to play the guitar, we won't be."
Deacon laughed. "Okay, I'll give you that much. Hey, here's a question: What'll we do if it's tone deaf?"
Now it was Rayna's turn to laugh. "Somehow, I don't think that's very likely, Deacon. But I'm sure we'll love our baby even if it sings off-key."
They smiled at each other and then paused, both struck suddenly by the enormity of what they were discussing: Their baby.
Deacon looked away. "Kinda hard to believe, isn't it? Kinda … weird."
"Yeah. It is weird. But kind of ... good, too. Right?"
He looked back at her. "Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "Kind of good."
The emcee got back up on the stage and looked at the list of performers who had signed up to play, then glanced toward the back of the room. "Deacon Claybourne, I thought I saw you come in. You gonna favor us with a tune tonight?"
The audience looked at Deacon and Rayna and scattered applause started at the tables nearest them. Deacon grinned and pulled his guitar out of its case. "Will you excuse me a minute?" he asked, and she nodded. He walked up to the stage, shook hands with the emcee and settled himself on a stool, acknowledging the applause as he tuned his guitar.
"Thanks y'all," he said, nodding to the technician sitting at the board in the back. The house lights went down and a solo spot was trained on Deacon. "Tonight I want to do a little song for you that I wrote sittin' right over there," he said, pointing to a table down front. "That was more than 10 years ago. I wrote it for someone who's here tonight. Ray, this is for you."
Deacon cleared his throat and started picking the strings of his guitar. From the first notes, Rayna recognized, "A Life That's Good." The audience picked up on the tune a couple of measures later and rewarded him with applause. A lump grew in Rayna's throat as his clear, sweet tenor voice filled the room. He looked at her particularly when he got to the second verse. "Sometimes I'm hard on me, when dreams don't come easy. I wanna look back and say, I did all that I could. Yeah, at the end of the day, Lord I pray, I have a life that's good."
Rayna picked up a cocktail napkin and dabbed her eyes. Deacon finished his song, thanked the audience for its applause and returned to the table, his guitar in hand.
"Thank you, babe," she said. "That means a lot."
"I just thought maybe that was somethin' you needed to hear. Hey, what're you drinkin'?" he asked, picking up his now-empty club soda.
She smiled. "Exactly the same as you, these days."
He laughed. "Okay. Let me go get us another couple club sodas." Deacon went up to the bar, exchanging greetings with several people while he waited for their drinks. By the time he returned to Rayna, he was checking his watch.
"I'm sorry, Ray, I know you probably need to get goin'. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Oh, gosh. Okay," Rayna sighed. "The PR department at Edgehill needs to put out a press release about the baby. Bucky thinks we should just come out and say you're the daddy right up front. But I wanted to check with you first. There's a whole lot of nonsense you're probably going to have to deal with because of this."
"Well, my mama always said, 'Better to tell the truth up front, than have to correct a lie later.' So yeah, sure. And I'm used to the uproar, you know that."
"Okay, thanks babe. Oh. There's something else, too."
Deacon braced himself: Twins? Triplets? There was no telling what she was going to lay on him these days.
"Edgehill wants to book us for some shows together before the holidays. Not a real long tour, no arenas or anything. But they think we ought to bring back that original tour we used to do. Just the two of us with a couple guys on backup." Rayna was cringing a little. "What do you think?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know, babe. I mean, I'm uncomfortable with it. They're going to exploit this pregnancy, just like they always want to do with our personal lives, and I hate that. But I'm not going to be able to tour until late next year, if at all, and I hate to miss a chance to get out there with this new song that everybody's so fired up about."
Deacon considered a moment, twisting his napkin in his fingers. "Well, I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with, Ray," he said, finally. "But if you're askin' me? I haven't exactly been workin' steady these past few years and not many people are willin' to take a chance on me showin' up on time and sober, you know? So I could use an opportunity to prove I'm back on track. And I could use the money, too. Especially," he glanced over at her lap, where her hands were resting. "Especially with the kid comin' along."
Rayna nodded, still looking hesitant. "But how are we going to handle getting up on stage and singing all our old love songs, Deacon? I mean, it's going to be pretty tough to stick to our decision about not ... falling back into old habits, isn't it?"
He knew exactly what she meant. He thought a moment. "Well, we could always work it out so that you do your new song as an encore. I'd say that'd kill off any kind of mood we might get ourselves into singin' somethin' like, "That Could Be Us" or "No One Will Ever Love You."
Rayna looked at him a minute, then burst into laughter. He joined her. "I mean, I could be wrong Ray, but I thought I detected just a little hostility in that one."
"Uhhhhh, yeah, there might just be a little bit of that," Rayna said, still smiling.
"Well, I know I deserve it, darlin', so I'm not gonna say another word."
"Deacon, you deserve-"
"Happiness? Yeah, I know that's what you think. And a few other people. I'm workin' on it, I promise." He put his hands on the table and looked at her. "Hey, shouldn't we think about gettin' you home? I hear tell that pregnant ladies turn into pumpkins after 10 o'clock at night."
"Really? You're going to compare me to a pumpkin now?," Rayna asked, smiling. Then she sighed. "Yeah, I could probably use some beauty sleep." She sat back and considered him a moment, narrowing her eyes and suppressing a grin. "If I didn't know better, Deacon Claybourne, I'd say that you were looking out for me."
"Yeah? Well, maybe I am. That okay with you?"
She paused a minute. "Yeah, I guess."
"The way I see it, somebody's gotta do it. And it sure as hell's not gonna be Dave."
Rayna laughed. "Really, you don't have to worry. I've got Tandy fussing over me night and day."
"Well, good for her." Deacon paused a moment, then added: "What's your daddy say?"
Rayna rolled her eyes and sighed. "I don't know. I haven't even been brave enough to talk to him. I can only imagine how thrilled he's going to be."
"I'm just surprised he hasn't come after me with a shotgun," Deacon said.
"Well, that may be the way they do it where you come from, babe, but that's not exactly the Wyatt way."
"That's true," Deacon agreed. "Guess it's a good thing he can't cancel my country club membership or blackball me from the polo team, huh?"
The two of them gathered their things and left the club a few minutes later. Deacon turned the radio on as they drove to her apartment and they smiled at each other and sang along when a caller requested "At the End of the Day," on a love song dedication program. "Feels kinda like old times, huh?" he asked.
"Yeah, it does," she said. "Guess we'd better get used to that." She directed him to the driveway in front of her building and he stopped his truck. Rayna opened her door and prepared to get out.
"Hey, darlin', can I ask you somethin'?"
Rayna looked at him. He could see that she thought he was going to ask if he could come inside.
"No, it's not that," he said, shaking his head. "I was just wonderin' … remember when you said that you thought about not goin' through with it? Not havin' the kid, I mean?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Was it because it was mine? Is that why you thought about ... gettin' rid of it?"
Rayna smiled softly. "No. No, Deacon. That's why I kept it - because it's yours. Ours."
A/N: Thanks again for all the lovely comments, and thanks also to Rachel Wilder, who beta'd for me on chapters six and seven. She provided valuable advice and proof-reading, and I really appreciate it.