Chapter Text
“So, how’s Georgia?” Maman asked once Jack explained that he wasn’t calling for any other reason than he had a free moment to talk, and he had promised her he would call when he did.
Jack shrugged. “Fine, I guess. She’s back up in Providence, so…” He didn’t bother to hide his grin, since she couldn’t see it.
As expected, Maman sighed.
“How is the state of Georgia, as in the physical state, the… What number was it or was it even one of the original thirteen colonies, I can’t for the life of me remember… Oh, you know what I mean, you horrible child!”
Jack laughed, taking the insult for the affectionate teasing it was. “It’s good.” He looked out the window. “It’s hot.”
From the bedroom, he had an excellent view of Bitty in his short shorts and tight tank top. He was directing various chair-and-table-toting Bittles and Phelpses around the yard like a tiny field marshal.
“Humid, too. I was helping set up, but Bits said I looked like was getting overheated and sent me inside. I did not put up a fuss. I’m up in Bits’s room, enjoying the AC.”
And the view. He loved watching Bitty boss larger people around.
Bitty wasn’t the only one doing the bossing. Judy’s theater of operations was the streamers and bunting, and Suzanne’s was the food tables. When Jack was down there showing off for Bitty by hauling tables around by himself, Moomaw had served as commanding general of the whole thing. She oversaw operations from the shade of a large magnolia tree while Connie kept her glass of sweet tea topped off and occasionally jogged off to relay mission-critical orders to the troops.
Now, though, Moomaw had joined Bitty, Judy, and Bitty over by the dessert table. Whatever she was saying had their attention enough they let new arrivals put their food offerings down any old way instead of according to plan.
“So yeah, things are good. I think there’s even more food here than last year, which I didn’t think was possible.”
“Mmm-hmm?”
It took deliberate effort not to react. That pointed mmh-hmm meant he had missed some sort of cue—whatever it was. That sort of prompting was an old habit of Maman’s, one that she’d been working on for the past eight years to break. Jack considered it a victory that he only felt a tiny flicker of anxiety about whatever unspoken expectation he’d failed to meet and none about simply asking:
“What is it you really want to know, Maman?”
“Sorry, sorry! I’m a bit distracted by something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—I promise it’s nothing horrible. It can wait.” He heard her shut her laptop with theatrical emphasis. “What I really want to know is, how are the Bittles? Not just their health and so on, but how are they with you? And with Bitty? I know they were okay, well, mostly okay at Christmas, but now that he’s bringing you home as his fiancé, are they being good to you? Both of you?”
“So far, I think?” At Christmas, the only sign of family rebellion against Moomaw’s edict that she wouldn’t tolerate any hateful nonsense about her precious Dicky and his delightful boyfriend or any talk about the ‘sanctity of marriage,’ especially from people who’ve gone through three husbands in eight years, Samantha Jane was that Connie’s husband had refused to attend. The general consensus amongst the family was that this was no great loss. The fact that Connie and her daughters and their families were here for the Fourth and the husband hadn’t even been invited said volumes. “Everyone’s been friendly enough so far, and no one’s pretending not to see us.”
If anything, Bitty had at been unsettled at first by the amount of positive attention he was getting from his extended family.
It’s probably only because I captained a championship team and had to rough someone up to do it, Bits had said morosely last night. That way, they can pretend I’m a ‘real’ man for a little bit.
As far as Jack could tell, Bitty was fine about it today. Maybe.
“Jacky? Are you okay? You got awfully quiet, there.”
“Ouais, I’m fine. Just…”
Just wishing that Suzanne and Moomaw and Coach had done or said something so that Bitty wouldn’t have been so afraid to be himself for so long.
“I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. We’ve only been here a day. But it’s good,” he hurried to reassure her. “I was having fun before I nearly got heat stroke. Also, now that we’re engaged, Suzanne finally agreed that Bits and I can stay in the same room.”
He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that last bit.
“How generous of her,” Maman said dryly. “But things are really okay?”
Jack elected not to be annoyed at being double-checked. It was completely understandable that she would be concerned.
“Okay enough that some of Bits’ cousins have decided we’re playing ball hockey this afternoon.” In fact, Coach and some Bittle cousin whose name Jack couldn’t remember had gone off to take advantage of Coach’s spare keys to borrow some supplies from the school PE storage shed.
“Good, good… Anyhow, since I have you on the phone, I’ve been meaning to ask if you and Bitty have decided anything about how soon you want to get married, or how many guests you plan to invite.”
A keyboard clattered rapidly on the other side of the line—Maman must have re-opened her laptop shortly after she closed it.
“Uh…”
“It’s just that for the kind of venue you’ll want, people book over a year in advance, easily. Also, have you decided yet if you’ll get married in Montreal or Providence? It will be easier for your father and I to coordinate if it’s in Montreal, of course, but more of your friends live closer to Providence, so that’s a consideration. Samwell also has some nice options, but they’re all so small. Or are the two of you thinking you may do a destination wedding?”
“Uh…”
There was a long pause, long enough for someone to silently count a few breaths, and then a rueful laugh.
“I am so sorry, Jack. That was a lot to dump on you without warning, wasn’t it? It’s just been bubbling around in my mind so long that it came pouring out. So, please forget I said anything and let me try again without the interrogation tactics. All I’m trying to say is that we need to start planning much further ahead than you probably imagine. Not just venues, but guest lists and save-the-dates. My own schedule through the end of next year is already ridiculous—not that I’m not going to drop absolutely everything for your wedding! I’m…”
She went quiet again, but Jack waited. Sometimes it took her a moment to find the right words when she wanted to be brief.
“I’m just glad to see you so happy.”
He heard everything that she didn’t say about the overdose, or about the year of excruciating family therapy that unearthed how deeply unhappy he had been for so, so long.
He heard all of the apologies for everything she had done over the years in the name of ‘gently encouraging’ him to do something about his weight, his hair, his clothes, his manners, his shyness… For not seeing until it was too late just how much damage both she and Papa had done in the name of good intentions.
“Je t’aime, maman.” He did not tell her it was okay, because they both knew it wasn’t. The important thing was, they had both moved forward—and continued to move forward—from it. They had learned and they had grown, even though they both had their moments. And he was happy. Genuinely, truly happy. “Maybe when we get back to Providence, Bits and I can call you and Papa and we can start talking plans. That will give us a chance to— Crisse. I think I’m needed.”
Based on Bitty’s body language as he left the group of Phelps women, Jack had a sinking feeling it wasn’t for moving tables.
“I’ll let you go then. But be sure to let me know when you’re back in Providence so we can get started!”
Jack wasn’t sure if he actually said goodbye or not before hanging up. Bits was coming back towards the house in a controlled hurry, and the closer he got to the house the more shaken he looked.
Shit. He may have been too quick to tell Maman that things were good.
He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, and when he opened the bedroom door, he ended up with an armful of teary-eyed Bitty.
Someone is going to die, Jack thought, but he quickly dismissed the thought so he could focus on getting Bitty over to the bed. They sat down together on the edge of the bed, but Bitty didn’t sag against Jack the way Jack expected. Instead, he sheepishly waved away the offer of comfort.
“It’s okay, sweet-pea, it really is! Oh, I’m sure I look such a mess, but I’m fine!” Bitty was trying to fan away his tears. He laughed but it came out more like a sob. “It’s just that—oh, lord!”
Jack rubbed (hopefully) calming circles on his fiancé’s back, and tried not to imagine the worst. Had Bits been ordered to stay away from his little cousins? Or had some of his older relatives threatened him?
“What is wrong with me that I can’t pull myself together?”
Jack couldn’t answer that until he had some idea of what was going on. “What happened out there, bud?”
“Well, Mama and Judy started asking me about if we’d started planning anything for the wedding yet.” He had to pause and blink and take a deep breath.
Jack nodded and resisted the temptation to say something about Maman’s call.
“Anyway. So, we’re talking plans and so on, and Judy starts going on about how she and Uncle David are fixing up that big old barn on their farm—you know, out where we watched the fireworks—so they can rent it out for weddings and events and suchlike, and maybe even start some sort of catering business. I mean now that more and more people are finally on board with the idea that plantations aren’t any kind of place to celebrate anything no matter how ‘elegant’ and ‘charming’ they are and… Ugh! I’m rambling.” He took another deep breath, steadied himself. “So, now that it’s far too late to make a long story short, we’re all talking about weddings, and Moomaw comes up and starts listening in.”
Jack barely had a chance to register a sense of dread before Bits went on with his story.
“Well, Mama and Judy are still going on and on about food the way they do, so it’s a little bit before Moomaw can even think of getting a word in edgewise—and don’t you dare laugh, mister!—and when she does, she says…”
Bits took a deep, shuddering breath, and Jack braced for a worst he couldn’t imagine.
But Moomaw had been so kind to him! And Bits loves her so much! What on earth could she…
“She says, ‘young man, don’t even think that your Mama and your aunts and I are going to let you bake your own wedding cake!’”
That was when he broke down sobbing, face buried in the front of Jack’s shirt while Jack blinked in bemusement and wondered just what the hell had gotten itself lost in translation.
“Euh, I know you like to bake, bud, but this is extreme, even for you.”
Bitty sat back sharply and swatted Jack on the arm. “Oh, you! It’s not about that! Well, not just about that,” he added before Jack could say anything about Bitty’s three different Pinterest boards of wedding pie ideas and cake decorating tutorials.
Bitty took another breath before starting again. “So, Mama says ‘I don’t know when you and Jack are planning to get married or where, but when you do—” his voice broke “—your Moomaw and aunts and I want to bake your wedding cake.’”
The last bit of it came out garbled because Bitty was snuffling and blinking back tears through it all.
“Bud, I’m going to need your help here. What about this has you so upset?”
“I’m not upset!” Bitty said as he scrubbed away his tears with the collar of his shirt. “I’m getting a Phelps cake for my wedding! Just like any other Phelps bride! Not that I’m a bride, but you know what I mean! I mean...” He took another shuddering breath and patted his hand against the top of his sternum as if to put his heartbeat back in order. “It’s a Phelps tradition from way, way back. Every bride—or groom in my case, I suppose—gets a homemade cake, and when my cousin Samantha Jane got married for the third time and was told she would have to make do with a Publix cake, well, that said more about that particular fiasco than you could put in a hundred pages.”
Jack nodded. He thought he was beginning to understand.
“My Mama. My family. Are going to make a wedding cake. For me. For my wedding. I never thought—”
Bitty covered his face with his hands and just shook for a while, Jack holding him close.
“I never thought I would have that! That I could have that! And I’m so happy, so why can’t I stop crying? Ugh! I’m such an idiot!”
“It’s a lot to take in, bud. And…”
And if Bitty’s parents had had their shit together years ago, Bitty and Suzanne could have been daydreaming about weddings long before now.
Jack knew more than he wanted to about mourning how things could or should have been, but this wasn’t the time to talk about that.
“Well, it’s a lot,” he finished weakly.
Bitty nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and he was starting to smile, just a little. “And as if that wasn’t enough, Judy up and said that if we wanted to, we could use her place for the wedding and it would be her gift to us. I mean, not that we would or anything, but isn’t that something?”
“I’m glad, bud.” He thought for a moment. “I took some good pictures of that old barn when we were here two years ago.” There was one with a sunbeam pouring through the hayloft window that he was particularly fond of. In fact, he had to resist the temptation to get out his phone to look at it right then and there.
“Mmm. I remember. You were gettin’ all up in the late afternoon light and being all artsy when I was wanting to go back to the truck so we could make out.” He bumped Jack with his shoulder, teasing. “They’re good pictures.”
“I should probably send a couple to your aunt,” Jack mused. They might want some attractive ‘before’ pictures for their web site. He wondered what the place looked like now that it was getting fixed up. The place had ‘good bones,’ as Dex might say, with massive, angled rafters that reminded him of the vaults of a cathedral. They would look gorgeous cleaned up and draped with garlands of greenery and flowers, or wrapped in fairy lights. If the doors at the western end were open, it had a great view of the farm’s pond and the woods beyond. In fact…
“Why wouldn’t we?” he asked.
Bitty pulled back and blinked at him a few times, head tilted adorably. “Why wouldn’t we what, sweetpea?”
“Take your aunt up on her offer of using the barn for our wedding.”
Bitty’s eyes were as wide as Jack had ever seen them. “You mean get married here? In Madison? Are you joking?”
Jack shrugged. “It was just a thought.” Still, the idea of getting married where they had spent their first time together as a couple appealed to him more than he would have expected. “But if you don’t want to get married in Georgia—”
“I didn’t say that,” Bitty said quickly but oh-so-quietly. He laced his fingers through Jack’s. “Just, can we think about it some? I didn’t even think getting married at home or even having a proper Phelps wedding was even an option until just a few minutes ago, and I… oh, hell, I’m gonna start crying again!”
Jack sat with him for another minute, just long enough for Bitty to pull himself together, and then they went down to re-join the party. Once they were downstairs, Bitty hurried off to help his mother put the dessert table to rights, and Jack hung back in the shade of the house for a moment so he could look through the photos he kept on his phone for roadies.
They were all very intimate photos, but not the kind of intimate that would be of interest to a hacker. Still, they took his breath away as much as if not more than the photos he kept on a separate hard drive and far away from the internet.
He found the photo of the barn and sunbeam quickly enough. Even in a photograph, something about the air made the sun look like something you would want to pour into a glass and drink.
Bitty stood just on the fringes of the sunbeam, amber light gently brushing across his face and his shoulder and turning his hair into a halo of the warmest gold. His smile was glorious, caught at the moment when he had just noticed Jack standing there with the camera.
Oh, there you are! Bitty had exclaimed, startling away the I love you that had nearly tumbled from Jack’s mouth. Yes, Jack remembered that barn very well indeed.
Before he could overthink it, he made the photo his lock screen and hurried off to join the others before Bitty could wonder where he’d gone.