Work Text:
Saturday, February 8, 1986.
Reno, Nevada.
“Just leave me alone!” Sheila’s muffled voice could just be heard from inside the bridal suite where she was barricaded.
Her mother, Linda, leaned against the wall of the tiny vestibule and dug through her purse for a cigarette. “She's not coming out.” she grumbled at her husband. “I swear, she's as stubborn as you are, Walt.”
“So what is it? Cold feet?” Walt scratched the back of his neck. “Last night she was the happiest girl in the world, what happened?”
“Do I look like I know?”
“Jeeze, okay!” Walt threw his hands up, as if to declare himself an innocent bystander. He was saved from having to come up with something else to say by a knock on the door. “It's open,” he said eagerly, and he sighed with relief when his half-brother appeared in the door.
“Ed!” Linda said, lighting her cigarette at last. “Did you come from out front? Are the guests starting to arrive? Can they tell something is wrong?”
“Whoa, girl,” Ed chuckled and raised his own hands, an unconscious echo of his brother's gesture a moment ago. “Breathe. What’s wrong now?”
Instead of answering, Linda just turned to glare out the window, leaving Walt to answer. “Sheila won't come out,” he said, voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone.
“She's talking crazy.” Linda jumped back in. “Saying she can't get married anymore. God only knows why.”
Behind Ed, Stede cleared his throat. Ed shifted to let him into the crowded room, touching the small of his back as he slid past Ed.
A glance passed between them spoke volumes. “She says she can't get married? Or she won't?” Stede asked.
“What's the difference?” Walt stuck his hands in his pockets. “She's in there, we're out here, and any minute the guests are gonna start filling up the chapel.”
At that reminder, Linda groaned.
Stede watched and considered. He'd been on the periphery of Ed's extended family for over a quarter of a century, ever since he checked into their family ranch to get a divorce back in ‘59. But in the last five years or so, things changed. Stede wasn't on the margins any more, he was a full-fledged member of the family. But family or not, this situation with Sheila was delicate, and he didn't want to overstep. On the other hand… delicate situations called for a level of delicacy, of sensitivity, that the Packer family was not exactly known for.
Stede made up his mind. “Maybe if I just go in and check on Sheila? Would that be all right?”
“There's an idea!” Walt said quickly. “It can't hurt, anyway.”
Linda didn't seem to share his optimism. “Oh, be my guest, Stede,” she said. “Stroll right into the lion’s den. See what happens.”
Ed scratched his beard. “Hey, uh, Linda- why don't you and me go walk in the garden? I'll need to stretch my legs before sitting for the ceremony anyway. Keep me company?”
“I need a glass of Chardonnay and a massage,” Linda grumbled to nobody in particular.
“Well, okay! Walt, you wanna go see if you can scrounge up a glass of wine for our girl? C’mon, let's give Stede and Sheila some privacy. He'll get to the bottom of this.” Ed gave Stede a look of pure, unguarded affection as Walt slipped away, grateful to be given a task.
Linda looked slightly less stressed for a few seconds. She patted Stede's cheek gently. “Talk some sense into her, Stede. She listens to you.”
Stede caught Ed's eye as he led Linda out. He kissed the tips of his fingers and turned his hand in Ed's direction, an old, practiced gesture. Ed smiled in acknowledgement, a special smile he saved just for Stede, the one that showed off all the deep lines around his eyes.
When they were gone, Stede knocked on the door to the bridal suite. “It's just me,” he kept his voice light. “It's Uncle Stede. Your folks went out.”
Silence. Then the door opened, just a crack. Stede cautiously opened it the rest of the way, just in time to witness Sheila stalking away and throwing herself dramatically down into an armchair. Her black hair was teased and sprayed into a magnificent wave cresting over her head. The only thing with more volume was the puffed shoulders of her wedding dress.
“Did my mom send you in here?”
“I volunteered, actually,” Stede admitted. “Your mom is out in the garden with Ed and a glass of wine. Between those two, I think she'll calm down soon. Can I sit?”
With a little hesitation, Sheila nodded. Stede perched on a nearby settee, crossing his legs delicately. “Are you going to bite my head off if I tell you that you look beautiful?” he asked.
Sheila scoffed. “Such a beautiful bride,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “That's all anybody can say today, here comes the beautiful bride!”
“So that's a yes,” Stede muttered to himself. Then his face softened. “What's wrong? Last night at dinner, you were acting like the happiest girl in Nevada. What changed?”
“Last night!? Last night I thought I knew what I wanted! But then I went back to the ranch and stayed in my old bedroom, and I- I saw all of my ribbons from horseback riding.” Her lower lip trembled, and to Stede, she looked about eight years old. “When I was a kid, all I wanted was to be an Olympic equestrian.”
“I remember.”
“But that's the point!” She leaped to her feet and started pacing. “I was so sure of what I wanted, for years, until one day- bam! I snapped out of it. No more horses. So, so- Buck's the sweetest guy in the world, and I think I'm in love with him, but how am I supposed to know what love feels like? What is love, anyways?”
Stede folded his hands in his lap and kept his mouth shut. Encouraged, Sheila kept going. “If I really do love Buck, maybe the best thing for me to do is call the whole thing off. God, I'm neurotic and unreliable and- what if he's just my new Olympics, Stede? And I wake up one day and snap out of it? I'll break his heart. I don't want to do that! So, do you get it? I can't marry him. I can't!”
“Okay,” Stede said.
“You're not listening, I- what?” Sheila stopped pacing, confused. “What did you say?”
“I said, okay. If you're not sure you want to get married, don't get married.”
Sheila huffed a laugh. “Mom and Dad would kill me.”
“Your mother will pitch a hissy fit, your father will chew his fingernails off worrying about you, and then they'll both come around. Because they love you.”
His words seemed to be sinking in.
“If you're really serious about this, we can get out of here. Just you and me. Give your folks time to cool off. Maybe drive out to the lake. Or just hit the mall, see a couple of movies.”
“In my wedding dress?”
“Well. We'll have to sit in the back row, so you don't block anybody's view with that hairdo of yours.”
This time, Sheila's laugh was genuine. Stede took it as encouragement and continued. “I've got a full tank of gas in the Beemer. But we should get out of here before your mother comes back inside, don't you think?”
“Oh, sure. What is this, reverse psychology?” Sheila stopped pacing, at least. She crossed her arms and leaned against the vanity. The gesture was so like her uncle Ed that Stede had to purse his lips to hide a smile.
“Not at all. I mean it. If your heart is telling you not to marry that boy, you should listen to it.” Sheila bit her lip, considering, as Stede continued. “When I got married, it was for all the wrong reasons. Obviously.” He gestured at himself. “And on the morning of my wedding, you know, I prayed for a disaster. When that organ started playing in the church, for one second I thought it was a tornado siren and I thought ‘oh thank God, I'm saved’.” He watched Sheila take that in. “I can't call in a tornado for you, honey, but I can get you out of here. If that's what you really want.”
“I always forget you were married before Uncle Ed.” was all Sheila said.
Stede smiled wistfully. “For nine long years.”
“And you never loved her?”
“Never,” Stede said. “It wasn't her fault, any more than it was mine. We were just… trapped together. Treading water. But still, I didn't-” Stede stopped himself. He smoothed his hands over the pleats in his pants self-consciously. “I am sorry, I'm making this all about me, aren't I?”
“Just a little bit,” Sheila said. “But still, I want to know what you were going to say.”
Stede took a breath. “I didn't realize how profoundly not in love Mary and I were until I fell in love for real.”
“Until you met Uncle Ed,” Sheila finished his thought. She sat down at last, settling onto the settee next to Stede and looking at him shyly. “How does it feel? To be in love?”
Stede stopped to consider. He thought about the man he fell in love with all those years ago, back at the divorce ranch. He thought about all the ways they’d both changed in the last 27 years- almost half of their lives, now- and the love that grew and changed right along with them. But one thing, the most important thing, had never changed.
“It feels… easy,” he answered at last. “It’s just like breathing. He understands my idiosyncrasies. Finds them charming, even. We expose each other to new things, new ideas. And we laugh a lot. We just… pass the time so well. I’d call those things love.”
Stede took Sheila’s hands in his own. “And don't you dare settle for anything less, kiddo. I want you to find that.”
A look of awareness dawned on Sheila’s face. She stared off dreamily somewhere above Stede's shoulder, like she was watching the sun rise. “I think I have.”
“Oh, really?” Stede teased, confident now that the tide had turned. “Anybody I know? It wouldn't happen to be the handsome young man with the perm who's waiting for you at the chapel, now, would it? What's his name again? Hoss? Stud?”
“Stop it,” Sheila protested weakly, trying to hold back a giggle. “You know his name is Buck.”
“If you really love Buck,” Stede said, “and he loves you, then you can figure out the rest as it comes.” He hesitated for a moment. “Listen- you can never tell your parents I said this to you, but I want to make sure you know. You still don't have to marry Buck, just because you love him. You don't need that piece of paper. You know that, right?”
Sheila nodded. “I know. Don't worry. We're getting married because we want to, not because we have to.” Hearing herself, Sheila gasped and clasped her hands to her mouth. “Stede! I'm getting married !”
With a sigh of relief, Stede pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh, thank God. Your gift was very expensive and I don't think I can return it.” Then he pulled back and held her at arm’s length, watching her laugh and dry her eyes at the same time. “Look at you. The beautiful bride. I'll go get your mom, she can fix up your makeup. Okay?”
Sheila nodded. “Thanks.” As he stood to go, she caught his wrist. “Hey, Stede? I'm glad you're- you know. Part of the family.”
Stede’s breath hitched. “Me too, honey. Me too.”
“Hey, Uncle Ed! Uncle Stede!” The youngest Packer child stepped out of the pew to shake his uncles’ hands.
“Chuckie!” Ed bellowed.
“ Charlie, ” Stede corrected him swiftly. “He hasn’t gone by Chuckie since he turned sixteen, remember? And, oh my God, look at him!” Stede’s hands fluttered to his chest. “Edward, have I fallen backwards in time? This boy looks exactly like Walter did at that age.”
Edward agreed. “You’re the spitting image of your old man, kid. You must get that a lot, huh?”
“Only every week or so,” Charlie said, ducking his head in embarrassment.
“And where’s your sister?” Ed continued. “Is she a bridesmaid or something?”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah, Lisa’s with the rest of the girls in the back. I guess Sheila had some trouble earlier, but pop says it got set right.” As he scanned the crowd for anybody he might recognize, he completely missed the wink that Ed shot at Stede, and the way Stede scrunched up his nose in response.
"My God," Ed whispered when Sheila appeared in a cloud of white taffeta at the back of the church. "My God, she looks just like her." Stede knew who he meant; Ed had marvelled many times over the years about Sheila's resemblance to her grandmother. Ed's late mother. Stede never met her, but anybody could see that Sheila had the same black curls that Ed used to have before the silver took over altogether.
While the minister talked about rings and paths and eternity, Stede’s mind wandered back in time, too. Not to his own mother, but to another wedding in Reno, long before either he or Ed went gray. That day in 1959, Stede gazed across a chapel at Ed and dared to picture a future that bound the two of them together. It hurt, back then. Wanting something so badly and thinking it was impossible. If he had only known then what he knew now…
No. The Stede of 1959 wasn’t ready to know what it was like to share his life with Ed, purely and completely and yes, as easily as breathing. That was something that Stede had to see for himself, day after day, year after year.
He pulled out his handkerchief to dab at the tear that threatened to spill over his cheek. The motion caught Ed’s eye, of course, and when Stede tucked the hankie away, Ed captured his hand and held it, down by the seat of the pew where nobody could see.
“Bless, O Lord, this ring. May its unbroken circle be the symbol of perfect union…” as the pastor spoke, Ed’s thumb caressed Stede’s knuckle. It was such a small gesture, and a familiar one. They'd clasped hands like that at the very beginning, when Stede pulled Ed onto the train heading away from Reno.
“And if trials and difficulties come, may they bind these two more closely together. Together, to work out life's problems. Together, to perform life's tasks.” Through the years, Ed's hand found Stede’s when they needed to share strength at times of uncertainty, at hospital bedsides, at funerals. They squeezed each other's palms in private moments of casual affection. Their fingers laced together when they made love.
“Sheila Packer, repeat after me: with this ring, I thee wed, and I do promise to love, honor, and obey you, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer.. .” There was no wedding ring on Stede's hand. That finger stayed unadorned, ever since the day that Ed pulled his old ring off, back before the beginning. Ed didn't wear one either. They didn't need to. They said their vows long ago, just the two of them, and there was nothing that a minister or a judge could tell them that they didn't already know, anyway.
Stede would never forget how happy Sheila looked when she said her vows, or how joyfully her new husband swept her into their first kiss as man and wife. And he’d always remember the little gasp that Ed made, the way his dark eyes brimmed with emotions when the new couple turned to face the congregation. After all, he held Sheila in his arms when she was a new baby, and just look at her now.
“You just be pretty proud of yourself,” he said softly to Stede as the bride and groom marched up the aisle amidst cheers and applause.
“I'm proud of her,” Stede said, dabbing his eyes again. “And I'm proud of us.”
Ed shot him a quizzical look. “Us? I didn't do anything.”
“You did,” Stede assured him. “Trust me, you did.”