Rayna
"Rayna, why don't you say something?" Tandy asked. "That jackass shouldn't keep saying things about you without you responding." There had started to be chatter in the press about the aftermath of the breakup with Jared, who was living it up and always out in public.
She looked at her sister. She knew Tandy meant well, but her sister was also one of those people who couldn't control her mouth. "What's wrong with taking the high road? Why should I dignify what he says by trying to respond back? All that does is just engage him."
Tandy looked over at Bucky. "Shouldn't she say something?" The 3 of them were sitting in her den. Bucky had come over to discuss business matters and Tandy had just happened to show up.
Bucky made a face. "Normally I would let it go and say, 'who cares'." He looked at her. "But there are some rumors out there that are starting to gain traction."
She frowned. "Like what?"
"Well, like you're too emotionally distraught over this to leave the house."
She scoffed. "That's absurd."
"I know. But lying low – while understandable – comes with risks. And Jared is sort of fueling the flames of that."
"Well, it's ridiculous that I should have to prove that I'm okay." She looked over at Tandy, who raised her eyebrows.
"I'm with Bucky, sweetheart," Tandy said. "Jared's out there acting like he actually got away from the old ball and chain and is living the life. Like you were holding him down or something."
"The last thing we need is for you to be seen as the emotional wreck in this situation," Bucky said.
She scowled at him. "I'm not an emotional wreck."
"I know that. But you have to be seen. Show people you're no worse for the wear. You need to perform."
She huffed. "What are you suggesting?"
"How about a short tour? Maybe 10 dates, just to get you out there and in front of things. You could do some radio while you're out, maybe get on a local morning show."
"I don't want to have to talk about the breakup with Jared, Buck," she said.
"I know you don't. We can make sure those questions are off limits." He gave her a tentative smile. "So, I can move forward with this? We can get you out there before Thanksgiving, just a quick 2 or 3 weeks."
She sighed. This was so messed up. Jared was the one who'd blown everything up. She knew he was trying to make it seem like she was the cause of it all, but it didn't seem fair that she had to go on some kind of redemption tour. But she also understood what Bucky was saying. "Okay. I'll do that. I actually have some new music, so it'll be a chance to get that out there. And maybe we should just blow everything up. I was already planning on a new record for next year and I wanted to try some new things. Can we find that outside the box producer?"
Bucky smiled a smile of relief. "Yes, I can get that tour going. I'll bet we can start with something at the Ryman."
"That would be wonderful." She smiled too, feeling a little better. "And that producer?"
"You're not happy with Randy? He did a good job on Home, I thought."
"It's not that. I just want to mix it up and this seems like the right time for it. Randy's really good but he's still sort of old school. Maybe look outside country music."
He looked a little surprised, but nodded, and then stood up. "I'll work on it. And I'll let you know about the tour dates."
She stood up too and reached in for a hug. "Thanks, Buck. I appreciate you." She walked him to the door. "I'll talk to you soon." When he was gone, she turned and headed back to the den. She sat down and sighed. "Damn it."
Tandy moved over to sit next to her, taking her hand. "Sounds like you've got a plan though, right?" She nodded. "You know what? You're Rayna Jaymes. You've always been strong, and you'll get past all this and be better than ever."
She looked at her sister, grateful for her support, as always. She smiled. "I will. I guess I'd just hoped I could just take the high road, and this would all go away. Obviously, I was wrong." She let out a short laugh.
"It's going to all work out, sweetie." Tandy patted her hand and then sat back. She had a sly smile on her face. "So, what's the scoop on Bucky?"
She was surprised by that. "He's my manager, Tandy. And a good friend."
Tandy waved her hand in front of her face as she shook her head. "No, I mean what's his story? How old is he? Is he nice? Is he married? Or single?" Then she smiled.
She looked hard at her sister. "What's all this about? You're married, Tandy."
Tandy looked away for a second, then back, the smile still on her face. "Oh, I know. I'm just curious is all."
She wondered what that was all about. Was there something going on with her sister she didn't know about? She had other things to worry about though, like preparing for a short tour, so she decided to just turn her attention to that.
Bitter memory, you're the thorn in my side / Bitter memory, you're the trouble on my mind / Find a new place to call home / You're not welcome anymore / Let me show you the door, bitter memory.
Bitter memory / Bitter memory / Bitter memory
The band ended the song on an amped up note, and she raised her arms in the air as the crowd at the Ryman jumped to their feet with a raucous standing ovation. She smiled as the energy of the song and the crowd flowed through her. It had felt good. Bucky had been right, she needed to do this. She'd finished the song just days earlier, but her band had picked up on it right away and it sounded just like she wanted. She was putting the bitter memories behind her, never to return, and she felt triumphant.
"Thank y'all, Nashville!" She cried out loud and then she turned and headed for the side stage as the house lights came up. Bucky and Watty were standing there waiting for her, both looking pleased. She stretched her arms out wide and hugged first Bucky and then Watty. "Thanks for coming, Watty," she said to him.
"You sounded wonderful out there. And the new music is spot on. That last song really sends a message."
"I'm so glad you liked it. I took your advice, you know. To use all of that... ugliness and turn it into something positive."
"You definitely did that," Bucky chimed in.
Watty nodded towards Bucky. "Bucky mentioned you wanted to try a new producer for the next record."
She nodded. "I do."
"I've asked around and have a suggestion." He crossed his arms over his chest and looked from her to Bucky and back. "He's probably going to be a tough sell to Edgehill." She frowned, wondering who it could possibly be. "Have you heard of Liam McGuiness?"
"Yeah," she said, drawing the word out slowly. "But isn't he a rock musician?"
Watty nodded. "He is. But he's also making a name for himself as an independent producer. He produced Gigi Wilson's debut album, which has really taken off on the pop charts. And he helped Kelsey McElroy revamp her sound."
"Are you really sure that's who we should target?" Bucky asked, looking concerned. "He's definitely not country."
"But he's an exciting new producer on the scene. It could be a good stretch for him as well as it being someone who could really help Rayna rethink her sound."
She looked at Bucky. "Do you think the label would approve it?"
"I don't know. But I think if you really wanted to work with him – and the feeling is mutual – I think they could be persuaded."
She thought for a moment. She was looking for something new and exciting in her music. Since her Horizon award – and notwithstanding Jared's petulance about that in public – she was starting to be referred to as a strong new voice in country music. The small tour Bucky had scheduled was completely sold out, within days of being announced, and sales of all her records had seen a bump. She knew some of that was the speculation around the end of her marriage, but it also meant people were listening. She smiled. "Let's do it," she said excitedly. "How soon do you think you can arrange a meeting?"
"I don't know. I'll see what his schedule is. And I'll talk to the label."
She smiled. "Don't go to the label. Yet. Let's talk to him first and if he's everything Watty thinks he is" – she looked over at Watty – "then I think we can persuade Edgehill."
It was mid-December before Bucky could arrange a meeting with Liam and they had to fly out to LA to do it. The meeting wasn't until the evening, so they had flown out that morning. She had expressed her apprehensions to Bucky on the flight out, although she was hopeful she could at least get this Liam McGuiness to listen to some of her music. She'd brought some demos with her and was hoping to have a good conversation with him on how he might change up her sound.
She and Bucky were driving to Capitol Studios in Hollywood. She had tried not to dress too 'country' since she knew his expertise was not in the genre. She wore jeans, a short-sleeved white t-shirt, and boots. When they walked in the door and were pointed down the hallway to Studio B, her mouth was dry and her hands felt a little damp. She rubbed them on her jeans as they approached the door.
Bucky looked over at her, a wry smile on his face. "You nervous?"
She nodded. "Mm hmm," she said. "This could either be really big or a really big waste of time. I really don't want it to be the latter." When they got to the door, she knocked, and they waited. After a minute or two, she started to knock again when the door opened. The man who opened the door was older than her but still fairly young. Tall and slender. She guessed somewhere in his 30s. His hair was messy, flopping over his forehead and he had a scraggly beard and moustache. He was standing in the doorway seeming not to want to let them in. "Hey," she said. "I'm Rayna Jaymes and this is Bucky" – she gestured to him behind her – and I think y'all have talked."
He just looked at her. "Yeah, I know who you are."
She smiled. Good grief, can he not at least smile or something? "Great. So I was hoping we could maybe talk about the possibility of you producing my next album. I'd love to let you hear some of my new stuff."
He didn't say anything right away. "I, uh, don't really think I need to hear your new stuff. I took this consultation as a favor, but I don't think we do the same thing with our music. You're sappy love songs and hayrides."
She frowned. "Excuse me?"
He smiled but it wasn't friendly. "There won't be a charge." And then he closed the door.
She turned and looked back at Bucky. "What the hell was that?"
Bucky shrugged. "I can't say I'm surprised, based on what I've heard about him. And he's not a country music producer." They started to walk back to the reception area.
"Well, that's just an excuse. Every country music producer wasn't one before they became one." She stopped. "I'm not taking no for an answer until he at least listens to what I have." She whirled around and headed back.
"Rayna..."
Her mind was made up though. She walked back to the door and knocked again, this time harder. The door opened and Liam stuck his head out. When he saw her, he looked annoyed.
"Hey again," she said, smiling.
He came out into the hall, closing the door behind him. "I don't know what else we need to talk about, Ms. Jaymes."
"Well, see, I don't think we actually got a chance to talk. You kinda shut the door in my face."
He huffed, then crossed his arms over his chest. He looked, she thought, like so many other producers in Nashville. Sloppy shirt, jeans, plain light jacket. "So talk," he said.
"I think you've probably heard some of my music, like Already Gone or Howl of the Rain, and you think you know me. Which is, respectfully, a load of crap." Liam smiled a little. "That would be like me judging you without ever hearing that live album you did in Belfast."
His smile got a little bigger. "You heard that?"
She smiled and nodded. "I did. See, I like lots of music and listen to lots of music. Not just country music." She reached into her purse and pulled out her demo. "Why don't you just listen to this? Then make a decision."
He took it from her and looked at it, then looked back at her with a smirk on his face. "Okay, Rayna Jaymes, let's talk." He opened the door to let her pass, then followed behind her, leaving Bucky to bring up the rear. He sat in the back of the studio, leaving her to talk to Liam. They settled in at the console. Liam sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over and balanced on the other, his fingers linked over his chest. "Okay then, tell me what you think I can do for you."
She just looked at him for a second. When she really looked at him, she realized he had a quiet sexuality to him. He looked totally comfortable in his skin. His scruffiness was both endearing and immensely attractive. She could feel herself getting lured in, but she didn't want to forget why she came. She cleared her throat. "Um, okay. So I'm looking for a sound that's gonna snap people's heads around and then grab 'em by their ears and hold 'em down til I let 'em go."
He had a musing smile on his face. He leaned the chair back a little. "But you can't just take your mandolins and banjos and pedal steel and throw them a bunch of distortion and call it rock."
She shook her head. "Nope. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm pretty sure you look at me and see someone young and maybe even silly wanting to go down some completely different path. That's not it. I know who I am, but I feel like I'm not putting it out there the right way. I'm definitely country but I want to blaze a different trail. Speak my truth. Blow up the box. I've gone through a lot of shit the last couple years and I'm ready to separate myself from who I was."
He smirked. "Yeah, I guess you have had a little bit of distraction going on." He reached over and poured something in a glass, then looked at her. "Can you drink?"
She frowned a little. "You mean am I old enough? Yes. I'm old enough."
"Okay then." He grabbed another glass and poured a little rich brown liquid in it and handed it to her. "Some good bourbon. In case you've never had any."
She took the glass and lifted it to her lips, taking a sip. "Yes, I've had bourbon before. And yes, this is quite good." She set the glass down. "So now what?"
He smiled, this time a more friendly smile. "We listen to this." He held up the demo disc. He slid the disc into a player. She had created it with her 3 latest songs – Bitter Memory, Buried Under, and The Best Songs Come From Broken Hearts. She watched his face as he listened, not sure what she wanted to see there. He actually didn't have much expression at all. When the final song finished, he turned to look at her. "A couple of these have promise."
"Which ones?"
"Bitter Memory and Buried Under. Buried Under has a vibe to it I like. We can make song changes and give it some more depth. I'd take the little twang out of it, and it'll sound less country, although you'd still have your same country words."
"'Country words?' What does that even mean?"
He smiled. "The sappy love songs and hayrides. Except this is the sad song without the hayride." She rolled her eyes. "You just told me you still want to be country, although hell if I know why, so we can do that, but the music behind it needs to get richer." He held up his glass. "It needs a bourbon touch."
"Okay. Then what about Bitter Memory?"
"Not completely sure yet, but I think it has promise. Maybe some strong background vocals will help or slowing it down just a bit."
"And Best Songs?"
He grimaced. "I don't know if I can fix that one. So I don't know. You'd have to really bring something that will sell it to me." She sat there as she took it in. A part of her was irritated with his comments. He sat forward then. "You were the one that wanted me to help you change your sound. You wanted to 'blow up the box', right?" She nodded. "Okay then. Look, I can come to Nashville after the first of the year. Maybe mid-January." He glanced over at Bucky. "Can he secure some studio space?"
"I can do that," Bucky said. "How much time?"
"Let's do 2 weeks. And see where we are." He looked back at her. "Can you put together enough songs for a whole album?"
Her mind was racing. "Uh, I think so."
"Good. Pull together 11 or 12, including anything you already have, and we'll sit in the studio and talk about what we'd do with them. And if we can work it out, then I'll book some time and I'll produce it." He stood up then and she did as well.
She smiled, holding out her hand. "Thanks, Liam. I appreciate it."
He shook her hand and gave her a cautious look. "I'm not promising anything. You bring the songs, and we'll talk." He walked towards the door then and they followed behind him. He turned back as he opened it. "I'll see you in January."
"Yes, you will. Thanks again." She and Bucky walked out into the hall and the door shut behind them. They exchanged glances and started down the hallway. She looked over at him. "Did we just talk him into doing this?"
Bucky smiled. "I think we did. Congratulations, Rayna. Now all we have to do is get the label on board."
At the last minute, Liam cancelled the studio time at Sound Emporium and moved them to a small studio over in Germantown. A friend's place. She felt a little anxious about it. She was comfortable in a regular studio, but she didn't really know what 'a friend's place' truly meant. But she had been waiting for this opportunity and she didn't want to question it, so on a Sunday afternoon in mid-January, she found herself driving over to a warehouse area in Germantown, just north of downtown. The area was empty, desolate really, not surprising for a Sunday. She drove slowly along the road looking for the address Liam had sent her. When she found it, she slowly stepped out of her car. She was standing across from a brick and stone building with 2 large doors at the center. They looked a little like barn doors. There were no identifying markings and she almost got back in her car. But this was what she wanted, an opportunity with a producer who could shake things up, so she took a deep breath and walked up to the door, reaching out and banging her hand against it.
The door opened and Liam stepped out onto the stoop. She felt something deep inside her that she hadn't expected. Or maybe she should have, given she'd had that same feeling in LA, of being drawn into him. "Hey," she said, looking up at him.
"Hey," he replied with a lazy smile. "Come on in." He stepped aside and she walked through the door into a cavernous room that was surprisingly dark considering it was the middle of the day. As her eyes adjusted, she looked around. It was an oddly set up room. At first it just looked like a dumping ground for antiques and bohemian knick knacks. There were deep leather club chairs and couches, tables and lamps scattered about. The ceiling was open, showing pipes and hvac ducts running across above steel beams that crisscrossed the room. She then spotted, in the very back of the room, a console and other studio equipment. She turned back to him.
"Is this really a studio?"
He laughed softly. "I get that it's probably not the kind of studio you're used to. This is comfortable and I think we need to be comfortable, don't you?"
"I guess." She walked farther in and looked around again. She saw instruments, microphones, other sound equipment. "Is this someone's home?"
He laughed again. "Kind of. My friend's got kind of an apartment upstairs, but down here is all studio." She heard footsteps and looked towards the back, seeing several guys enter the room, working in the back of the space. "They'll help with the recording." He gestured towards the couch. "Let's talk first."
"Okay," she said slowly, walking over to the big leather couch and sitting at one end. He sat across from her in one of the club chairs. "What's the plan?"
He smiled again and she felt her heart beating a little faster. He seemed to just be spread out all over the chair in a casually uncomplicated way. He sat forward and picked up a bottle of what she assumed was bourbon or whiskey, holding it up. "First we get a little loosened up." He poured the alcohol into 2 shot glasses, then set the bottle down and handed her a glass. Then he held his up to her. "Here's to making magic."
Two weeks extended to 3 and then to 4. She wouldn't pretend it had been easy. Liam pretty much blew up almost every song she'd written for the album and there were times when she'd argued angrily with him about a lyric he wanted to change or a melody he didn't like that she did. But bit by bit, as they completed each song, she was seeing why she'd wanted him in the first place. He did something different with her music that her other producers had not. He'd made her sound grownup and like a really complete woman instead of the 'youngster' others in the industry still said she was. She sounded different from her peers. Definitely not the twangy sound he'd told her she had the first time she'd met him. She felt wrung out after every session.
They were working on one of the songs for the album that had been on the demo she'd given him, Buried Under, and she was struggling a little with what he wanted. Finally, he stood up from the console, just smirking at her. "I think we need a break," he said. he looked back over his shoulder. "You guys can take the rest of the night. We'll figure it out and come back to it tomorrow." She watched as everyone stopped what they were doing and filed out. Then he turned back to her. "Let's sit."
She sat on the couch, but this time he sat next to her. He poured her a shot of whiskey and then one for himself. He knocked his back, so she did the same. Then he refilled the glasses. "You've got to loosen up on this one," he said. "You're too tight. It's a good song, but you need to put some heat behind the vocals."
She frowned. "I don't know what you mean by 'heat'."
"I mean you need to let go. You need to tap into that fire that's way down deep inside. You were the one who used the lyric 'ball and chain', so you need to punch it. 'What I thought was meant to be, is a broken heart weighing down on me'. Lean into it." He poured them another glass of whiskey. "Drink up."
"I don't know if I need..."
He gave her a sly smile. "What you need is to loosen those inhibitions, Rayna Jaymes. You need to let go."
She wasn't sure how many shots of whiskey they had that night, but she knew she had loosened those inhibitions, as he'd said. It was why she was in the bed in that upstairs apartment, completely naked, with Liam McGuinnis. It was why, despite the fact that her head hurt, she could forget about it in the light of day as he made her feel the kinds of things she'd never felt with Jared. He was skilled and he could make her crave what he was giving even though she knew this was nothing more than a fling. She didn't care.
He kissed her on the forehead and got up from the bed. He walked over to the other side of the room as she watched him. She smiled to herself. He was everything Jared was not, physically anyway. He slid a disc into a disc player and turned it on, then walked back over and crawled into bed with her. She heard the intro to Buried Under and then she heard herself singing and almost didn't recognize her own voice. When it was over, she looked at him. "Wow."
He chuckled. "Yeah. That's what I was looking for." He grinned and rolled on top of her. "You need to go home and rest up. We've got more songs to do and now that you know how to do it, we'll have some fun with it." She laughed as she felt herself let go of those inhibitions.
Deacon
It had been a long tour and he was exhausted when the bus pulled into Nashville 4 days before Thanksgiving. That felt strange considering there had been numerous breaks throughout the length of the tour, some even several weeks. But now that he knew it was finished, it felt really done. Sam's morning sickness had finally ended around the midpoint of her pregnancy, so he was glad about that. It had greatly improved her mood.
When he got off the bus, he grabbed all his gear, said goodbye to the band and crew and headed for his truck. It had been a long overnight ride from San Antonio, and it was early afternoon. He sat in the truck for a few minutes, his eyes closed. He had a headache and he felt bone weary. He wanted to be able to get into his own bed and sleep and he hoped Sam would understand. He finally opened his eyes, started the truck, and pulled out of the lot heading for home.
When he opened the door to the apartment, he was surprised that Sam wasn't there. It was a Sunday so she wouldn't be working and he didn't know where else she would be. He closed the door and walked into the kitchen, hoping there would be a note but there wasn't one. Maybe she's just out doing errands. He walked into the bedroom, pulling off his clothes and then went into the bathroom to start a shower. When he got in, the warm water sliding down his body started to ease the aches. He cleaned up and washed his hair, then got out and wrapped a towel around his waist after he'd dried off.
He peered into the mirror. His eyes were just a little red, which he knew was from the whiskey shots they'd had on the bus after the show. He hadn't had a lot but when he'd gotten into the bunk, he'd had trouble falling asleep. He knew that also contributed to the headache and general malaise he felt. He walked back into the bedroom and crawled into the unmade bed, after closing the curtains on the window. After a few minutes he fell asleep.
He felt the gentle movement in the bed. When he opened his eyes, he was disoriented. The figure lying next to him was fuzzy and he blinked several times to bring it into view.
"I didn't mean to wake you." He frowned slightly and then realized it was Sam. He felt an instant sense of not disappointment as much as a feeling of clarity. For half a second, he thought it was her. Rayna. But it wasn't.
"S'okay," he muttered. She reached out and pushed his hair back off his face. He blinked again, clearing his vision and he smiled a little. "Hey."
She smiled too. "Hey. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you got home. I thought I would be."
"Where were you?"
"I was looking at a couple of places for us to live. I wanted to check them out and then be able to take you to see them, if they panned out."
He reached out and put his hand on her waist, pulling her a little closer. She ran the back of her hand down his cheek and then rested it on his arm. "You find something?"
"I think maybe so. We can go look at it tomorrow and if you like it, we could move in after Christmas."
"Where is it?"
"Edgefield." They lived on the outskirts of the Cayce Homes area, so it wasn't far.
"What's it like?"
She smiled again, a happy smile. He hadn't seen that in a while he didn't feel like. "So cute. It's a bungalow. With a little porch and beautiful real wood floors. 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. The kitchen's kinda small but it's fine. And a little yard out back, not too big. It's a cute neighborhood. The landlord said people are starting to work on the homes, to make them better. There's even a little church at the end of the street."
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you like it, I'm sure it's fine."
"I still want you to see it. We can go by tomorrow at lunchtime. I'm gonna take a long lunch."
"Okay. Sounds good."
She leaned in and kissed him. "I'm glad you're home. I've missed you."
He smiled. "Really?"
She nodded. "Really. I've got Wednesday off so the whole long weekend is free. So we can spend it together."
"I like that." He suddenly realized she was under the sheets. Fully clothed but under the sheets. "You want me to get up?"
She smiled and shook her head. "Hold on." She turned and flipped the sheet back, sitting on the side of the bed. She took off her sweater and bra, then stood to take off her jeans and underwear. It had been a long time since she'd felt well enough to do this and he could feel himself getting aroused. She turned back towards him, and he sucked his breath in as he took in all the changes. Her boobs were really large and her stomach was bigger. Not too much but enough to know she was pregnant. She quickly got under the sheets and scooted over to him. He put his hand on her stomach and smiled.
"How do we do this now?" he asked.
"What about this?" she said as she straddled him, making sure she was still under the sheet.
He raised his head and kissed her, then smiled. "This is good," he murmured, glad she'd woken him up. It was good to be home.
Sam gave him the address for the house she wanted him to see so he could meet her there. 619 Boscobel. He drove down the street slowly, looking at the houses. He knew, because she'd told him, that it was an up-and-coming neighborhood, filled with bungalows and cottages. Some were in varying levels of disrepair, some were in the midst of being updated, and a few looked like they'd been fully done. East Nashville was a changing area, and it was filled with pocket neighborhoods, many of which had been for the working class, so small and more nondescript. They were also often centered around a park to create that neighborhood feel.
He had lived in a boarding house when he'd first moved to Nashville, grateful he'd saved up enough money not to have to live in his car or a sketchy motel. Not that the place where he lived was top of the line, but it was clean and most of the residents were people like him, looking to fulfill their dreams in Music City. The apartment he and Sam lived in was on the edge of one of the less desirable areas, but it worked, and the immediate area wasn't scary. But this felt like a real move up. A house, first of all, and in a nice tree filled neighborhood that looked like it was well established. Good for a kid, Sam had said.
He found the house and parked out front on the street. As he was getting out of the truck, Sam pulled up and parked. He waited for her and then pulled her in for a quick kiss. "Hey," he said.
"Hey." She turned to face the house. "It's cute, right?"
He looked at it. It was a mostly stone house, with a couple columns at the edges of what looked like a small porch. There were steps leading up from the street to a front walkway. There was a red door and he saw the chimney, which meant there was a fireplace. "I like it," he said.
"Good. Let's go look at it." She took his hand and they walked up to the front door. The porch was small, but it had a porch swing on one end. Sam knocked on the door and after a moment an older woman who was dressed kind of like a hippie opened the door. "Hey. I've got my husband here to look at the place."
The woman smiled. "Great. Come on in." She stepped aside so they could enter.
He looked around. It was somewhat small but at least bigger than the apartment. The floors were wood, and he saw the fireplace on one wall. It looked to be wood burning. The woman led them through house, first to the dining room, which was separated by a wide doorway. Then the kitchen, which was small but looked like it had everything they needed. They looked at the hallway bathroom, the 2 guest bedrooms, and then went into the main bedroom. The room was bigger than he'd expected with windows on 2 sides, looking out onto the front lawn and the side yard. The bathroom was small with a single sink and a tub/shower combination.
The woman was talking but he wasn't really listening. He liked the house. He could see a family living there. Sam's face was lit up as they toured the house, so he knew it made her happy and that made him happy. They took a look at the backyard which had a small patio and was fenced in, then went back inside. They stood in the living room after the tour.
"What did y'all think?" the woman asked.
Sam looked at him. "I think it's great," he said. She smiled and he smiled back at her. "Sam said we could move in after the first of the year?"
The woman nodded. "That's right. The current tenant is moving out the week before Christmas and I want to make sure it's all cleaned up for y'all." She handed Sam some paperwork. "If y'all can fill out the application and then drop it at my office tomorrow, it's yours."
"Great," Sam said. "Thank you so much." They walked out then and got down to the sidewalk before she stopped. "You're sure you like it?"
He nodded. "I do. It's just what we need." He kissed her. "I'm glad you found it."
She smiled. "Me too. Well, we'll just need to get this" – she held up the application – "over to her office tomorrow. Yay!" She looked happy and he was glad to see it. He was glad they'd have time together so they could move in and get settled before the baby came while he was off the road. Although he was going to have to think about what would work best for them after that and maybe that wasn't touring.
Sam had been excited to move and spent the first few days in the house getting things set up. He moved the furniture wherever she told him to move it and then he'd move it again when she changed her mind. Ordinarily that might have annoyed him, but he liked seeing her smile, seeing her happy, and he'd do anything to keep that going. The women she worked with had given her a shower and they had put everything into the room they'd chosen as the nursery. But that was all they'd done, and he thought they needed to think about baby furniture.
It was the first Saturday they were in the house, and they were snuggled up on the couch watching TV. There were about 10 weeks to go until the baby was born. He ran his fingers over her hair. "You thought about baby furniture at all?" he asked.
She didn't take her eyes off the TV. "No."
"Don't you think we should?"
"We've got plenty of time."
"And there's other stuff we need too, right?"
She turned and looked at him then. "We've got plenty of time," she repeated, although her voice was brittle.
"What if we have to wait for something to come in? Or I gotta put it together?"
She got up from the couch then. "Do we have to talk about this now? I said we have plenty of time. I don't know why you keep badgering me." She then turned and went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
He wondered what the hell was going on. Clearly, he'd struck a nerve, but he didn't understand why. He waited a few minutes and then he got up and went to the bedroom door. He knocked and then walked in. Sam was sitting on the bed, her legs crossed underneath her. He walked around the bed and sat down next to her, reaching for her hand. "I don't mean to get you upset," he said. "We don't have to talk about it now."
She finally looked at him and he could see tears rimming her eyes. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Deacon. I just can't get excited about this, and I feel so bad about it. I'm supposed to be happy and excited and I'm just not. I'm terrified."
He moved so he was sitting next to her and put his arm around her, pulling her closer. She rested her head on his shoulder. "I thought we said we weren't going to do what our parents did."
"But I don't really have parents, remember? I have this long string of foster parents and most of them were not very good. I feel like I'm broken inside and now I'm gonna have to raise a child." She sat up and looked at him. "I never had a parent to connect to, you know? I mean, a couple of the foster moms were okay, but mostly I had such a terrible experience and I just feel like I'm completely broken."
He kissed her on the forehead. "You're not completely broken, baby. I know we both had it tough and I'm scared too. If it's a boy, can I be a good dad? The right kind of dad. But we're gonna do the opposite of what we know. I believe we can do that. I want you to believe that too." She laid her head against his shoulder again. "Maybe if we start to set up the bedroom, it'll help you know you're gonna love our kid. And be a good mom, no matter what."
"I hope so."
It was the beginning of February before they started setting up the nursery. He thought she seemed to be feeling better about everything as she put away little baby outfits in the dresser they'd bought. She would fold each one carefully – all the onesies and pajamas and such – and then place it gently in a drawer. She picked out bedding for the crib that wasn't put together yet. He found her one day sitting in the rocking chair holding a blanket on her lap that some new neighborhood friends had given her. It was a white blanket with embroidered building blocks on it in blue and pink and green and yellow. Isn't this pretty? And it's so soft. He felt hopeful.
Two weeks later Sam went into labor in the middle of the night. Almost 4 weeks early. It came hard and fast and she was in tremendous pain. When they got to the hospital, they found out the baby was in a breech position and the way the baby was positioned meant it would be a difficult and potentially dangerous delivery. Her contractions were close together and the decision was made to do an emergency C-section, which had been a relief to him. Sam was in so much pain and was not handling it well and he thought the best thing for all of them was to just get the baby out.
He held her hand as they headed for the delivery room and then hastily donned scrubs and a mask before joining her. He sat by her head, holding her hand, while the operation was taking place. She was calmer then, but he could tell how agitated she still was. So it was a relief when the doctor stood up and held up the baby, covered in some goop he thought would be seared into his memory forever. "It's a girl!"