october

Rayna awakes to a room filled with sunlight. Deacon and she didn't bother to close the curtains when they moved up here, naked and happy, a few hours ago. She stirs and smiles as she catches sight of the ring on her left hand. Last night's events only reaffirmed what she'd always known; this is her favourite place on the planet, with him.

She drags herself out of bed, crosses the room to unhook the redwood plaid robe hanging behind the bathroom's door. She puts it on as she heads downstairs.

She finds him asleep on the couch. She's not sure why it only hits her now, why she didn't panic the minute she realized he was missing from their bed. She spots the bottle on the coffee table and her whole world comes crumbling down.

"You been drinking?"

november

"Please, don't tell him. Please. For the sake of this baby." Tandy has resorted to begging. "Sweetheart, are you listening to me?"

"He needs help, you know? He's sick." Rayna's sitting on her bathroom's floor, her back against the wall and her knees up to her chest. She hasn't moved since she called Tandy half an hour ago.

"You want him to be the father? Do you have any idea what could happen to you or to that baby if he was?"

"He would never hurt either of us." The only person Deacon has ever tried to hurt is himself. The people who love him are collateral damage.

"Not physically," her sister objects.

Tandy's arguments are pertinent, sensible. But Rayna can't keep his child from Deacon. She just can't. She wouldn't be able to live with that decision. She's going to take one huge, unreasonable, love-driven leap of faith.

december

"You're getting back into rehab. Today."

She's not asking. She's not giving him a choice. He will get sober. He will get sober because she won't spend the next year crying herself to sleep, cursing fate for its atrociously bad timing. She wants to be his wife, she wants them to raise their future child as the family they were always supposed to be.

He hasn't said a word since she told him she's pregnant.

"How... how is that possible." He gestures to her stomach and she tries not to cry.

"You don't remember?"

"I remember we were at the cabin but it's all a bit... blurry."

She knows he's only trying to be honest. They'll both need to be, painfully so, if they want this to have the slightest chance to work. But she feels like a knife has been stabbed and twisted into her heart, and then twisted some more, for good measure.

january

This is it, she thinks, as she watches the clock switch from 11:59 to midnight. 1999. The year she will become a mom.

She's sitting at her kitchen table with a notebook open in front of her and a glass of alcohol-free champagne next to it. She can't have any contact with Deacon for another 12 days – rehab policy – so she's been keeping some sort of journal where she writes down everything she would have told him, had he been there. A one-way conversation.

Her sister had tried to convince her to go out. Whether with her or friends or anyone as long as she wouldn't spend the evening alone.

"I'm not alone," she'd corrected Tandy.

february

Bucky is resolute to clear her schedule as much as possible – you've got other priorities – but it's the opposite of what she needs. Deacon won't leave rehab until next month. She needs to keep herself busy. Free time allows for thinking and thinking is not her friend at the moment.

march

"I've already moved some of your stuff here, but we'll drive to your place tomorrow and pick up everything you need."

"Thanks." He's got his hands in his pockets and he's trying to set a new record for how long he can avoid her gaze. "So... how is this going to work?"

"I have no idea." Honesty is the best policy. "But we'll figure it out?"

"Yeah."

They've been a lot of things over the years but she doesn't recall they've ever reached this level of awkward. "I've got something for you," she says, moving to grab the notebook lying on the bedroom's dresser. "Here." He takes it from her. "It's kind of a... journal. Or just a big messy jumble of words at this point. I don't know. I just thought you should have it."

He motions for her to wait and turns around to disappear into the hallway. She hears him rummaging through his bag. He comes back with a second, almost identical, notebook. "Here."

She isn't nearly as surprised as she should be. They've always been better at communicating when they have to lay words on paper.

april

Rayna glances at Deacon in the driver seat. He hasn't said much since they left the doctor's office but he seems content. Relieved, even. He pretends he would have been happy either way, but she suspects he's been secretly praying for a girl.

In regard of his own relationship with a certain person in the upper level of his family tree, the idea of raising a girl feels immensely less challenging to him.

may

"Gladys."

"Veto. Are you serious? Or are you trying to make me use all my vetoes?" she complains. She pokes at his thigh from across the couch. He grabs her foot and starts massaging it.

"Alright, I plead guilty. Your turn."

"Iphigenia."

"Now I'm pretty sure you just made that one up. It can't be a real name."

"It is." She picks the baby name book off the floor and flips through the pages until she gets to the 'I' section. "See?"

"Veto. Final, non-negotiable, irrevocable veto."

She laughs. "I would hope so. Can we start with the serious suggestions now?"

"You know, if you want to use Virginia as her first name and not her middle one, I'd be fine with that."

"No." She's already considered the possibility. "There's too much meaning attached to it. I don't want to put that burden on our daughter." She pauses. "What?" she asks, when she catches him smiling.

"I think it's the first time I hear either of us say it aloud."

"Our daughter?" He nods. "Our daughter," she repeats.

"Our daughter Iphigenia," he teases. "I'm warming up to it."

"Shut up."

The banter feels natural, familiar. This is the thing with Deacon. It's easy for her to forget what happened, to fall back into their old rhythm again, because when he's in a good phase, it's effortless for them to be together. They're made for each other. The problem is the good phases never last. They never have yet, anyway, but she has to believe that this one will. Please let it be that this one will.

june

"Should we get married?" He's lying sideways on the bed, his head next to her belly and Rayna wonders if he's talking to her or asking their baby for her opinion. She runs a hand through his hair.

"We should nothing, babe."

He looks up at her. "Do you want to?"

She's tempted to bitterly ask if he'll remember this conversation tomorrow but she knows it's only because she's exhausted and in a constant state of uncomfortable in this unusually hot June weather.

"Not now," she says, instead.

july

Maddie Claybourne decides to show up on the first Wednesday of July, one week before the official due date. Unexpected seems to be their daughter's preferred way of doing things.

On their drive back home with her, Rayna sits in the back, not yet ready to lose sight of her for this long. They're waiting at a traffic light when Deacon looks in the rearview mirror and asks, "Have you ever considered not telling me?"

She doesn't hesitate because it's the truth. "No."

They never talk about it again.

august

"She'll probably try to burn those when she'll be older."

"I'll make sure she won't," he retorts, unperturbed.

Maddie is rocking her guitar-patterned onesie, courtesy of Aunt Tandy, and her literal rose-colored glasses, courtesy of Uncle Watty, and Deacon's been trying to take the perfect picture for a good 10 minutes. This gives Maddie a good glimpse at what to expect, should she choose to follow her mom's footsteps.

Rayna leans against the door frame, watching the scene from a distance. Her life is such a far cry from what it was one year ago, it feels surreal. And yet, it's been so easy to slip into this new normal.

september

He'd come up with this crazy idea that they should celebrate Maddie's birthday every month until she'll be one, and who was she to tell him it's kind of silly, Maddie won't remember anyway, so she'd just smiled and said it was the best of ideas.

He suggests they do it at the Bluebird this time. She wonders aloud if it's a suitable place to bring a two-month-old but his enthusiasm rubs off on her. They'll rent the place for an hour or two, they'll invite a handful of close friends, there will be music – most of all, music.

A few days later, when Deacon is on the Bluebird's stage playing a quiet acoustic rendition of Friend of Mine to a cooing, attentive Maddie, she thinks that, indeed, it was the best of ideas.

october

"Don't wake her up," she pleads as he removes Maddie from the rear-facing car seat.

"If this rain hasn't by now, nothing will." He picks her up in his arms and Rayna closes the car's door as quietly as possible. They hurry up the stairs to the cabin's porch until they're sheltered from the downpour.

"Wait," she whispers as he's about to slide the glass door open.

"What?" They're both trying to keep their voices low.

"Shouldn't we make this more... official?"

He grins. "Official?"

"It's her first time here, it feels... important."

"Do you want us to make a speech?"

"Now it just sounds silly when you say it."

"No, I'm serious. Let me try." He readjusts Maddie in his arms. She stirs slightly but doesn't wake up. He doesn't need her to. "Baby, this is the cabin. To say this place holds a special meaning for our family is quite an understatement. One year ago, your mom and I drove here like we all did today. But, on what was supposed to be a special night, your dad made the worst of choices. Your mom, on the other hand, made the best of choices. She didn't give up on your dad. She chose to believe that you, baby, you could be the one thing that would finally help him get better. And she was right. And your dad is intent on doing everything in his power to keep proving her right, one day at a time." He takes his eyes off Maddie to look at Rayna and her momentous smile. "Is that what you had in mind?"

"It's even better."