CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE REMEMBRANCE
The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.
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CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
We hear the bell chime the hour of six o'clock, time for the wedding to begin. I walk to the altar accompanied by Emily's father and my best man Arthur. The church is almost full. Judith and Matthew are beginning Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel.
A young man pushing a wheel chair enters. The woman in the chair is my Granny Eleanor. I did not even realize her health would allow it, but here she is, oxygen bottle and all, all the way from Spain. The young man assists her as she is seated next to my granddad Glasson.
Emily's grandparents, Henne and Florian, enter and take their place in the second pew on the right. Following them are Mr. and Mrs. Reed, Emily's grandparents from Ohio
My parents appear, dad as always looking uncomfortable in this formal setting. But Mum making up for his stiffness with her grace, beauty and ease, enters wearing a long floral gown, her silver streaked hair high on her head. I suppose Dad and I would have a long debate about who is the luckiest man in this church today.
Emily's mother, in a simple but elegant dove grey lace dress, is escorted to her place of honor next to Emily's grandparents.
Judith begins playing Air on a G String by Bach. It's gentle resonance surrounds us as my sister steps into the aisle and walks toward us. She is attired in a periwinkle gown that so matches her gentle beauty. It is amazing that she handles a thousand pound horse as gracefully as she walks down this aisle.
As Joan takes her place with us at the altar, a pixie enters strewing flowers. Mary Ann Large is almost five. There is not a shy bone in her body and this cute and perky little girl is scattering rose petals where Emily will soon walk and not a few on the folks seated near the aisle. She hesitates but takes Joan's signal to come stand by her.
Standing here with Arthur on my left and my future father-in-law on my right,
my mind is filled with so many memories as I look out on the congregation.
It is strange to see Mum's parents sitting together. Mum's father had only come to Portwenn some five years ago. I know a bit of his checkered past, but he is a good person and I'm glad to have a grandfather in my life finally. Granny Eleanor has always lived in Spain but she came to visit us a good bit over the years. She and dad loved to snipe at each other but I really think there grew an arms-length respect. That she has come for our wedding means a great deal.
There are Al and Morwenna Large with their children, Albert, Thomas, Eva and Rose. Mary Ann is stranding with us. In our family names of address have more to do with relationships than genetics. Uncle Al always said, usually while he had me helping with a task, "James, if something comes apart, you can put it back together. Don't forget that!" I have learned that is true of people as well as machinery.
We did not have a lot of sweets at home but I knew I could always count on Aunt Morwenna for some sticky toffee pudding or treacle tart. The Larges were the most laid back family on earth, but in spite of that, their kids were all very respectful and responsible. Joan and I visited a lot. Of course now Joan has Maya stabled there since Al added the small barn and riding ring to his endeavors.
Close to the front sit the James's. I grew up playing with their children, Peter and Lucy. Stewart is a ranger and they live in a cabin in the woods. He taught me about nature and living in the outdoors. Out of that grew my love of hiking. There was a grave behind their house with a wooden plaque that says Antony RIP. I asked him about it once and all he would say was, "It's an old demon James. An old demon." He would not talk anymore about it. I understand now what I did not understand then. I sensed over time my dad had a profound respect for Stewart. His wife, Miss Karen was a lot of fun. She was a good teller of stories that we loved to hear even as we grew older.
Aunt Ruth is seated just behind Mum and Dad, accompanied by her friend from Scotland, Hamish Morgan. I met him once at High Trees when his daughter brought him down to see Ruth, and I know that Dad has taken her to Aberdeen to visit him. She told me he was a friend from many years ago and some years after his wife died he contacted her. She showed me a stack of letters - yes letters. They write each other weekly. Emily and I were happy that they could be together for our day.
This is my village sitting here parents and guardians all. It was impossible to get away with anything with so many eyes on me. In the end it is a good reality. I suppose they want to see how their child turned out. I know the names and the faces. That doesn't really cover it. I could tell you if a scone was made by Mrs. Carnes or by Mrs. Grant.
My eye catches the eye of Dr. Lovette and she smiles. There are a good number of colleagues from the program in Plymouth present, one more group of relationships to be very grateful for.
A hush falls over us as we await the entrance of my bride. The strains of Benedetto Marcello's hymn begin and the doors open. I catch my breath. There is Emily. My Emily.
For the past year wedding and bride magazines had been laying about in profusion. They were opened to special pages, dog eared here and there with a view to reconsidering some idea. There were more wedding gowns that I thought existed, with hundreds of descriptions containing words like bodices, brocade, basque and beads. All I knew at the moment was I was looking at a raven haired angel framed in white. The congregation stands and faces toward her as she moves over the rose petaled carpet.
As she slowly comes toward us I could not have anticipated nor prevented what happened. My eyes welling with tears of emotion, overflow. Artie hands me a handkerchief and I wipe my cheeks as Emily approaches me. I hold out a hand and with a radiant smile on her face, she takes it. We turn and faced her dad.
Expecting to hear Mr. Jacob's voice, I am surprised to hear beautiful chords coming from Matthew's guitar. His father, Mr. Fenn, standing in the midst of the congregation begins to sing.
He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts
Rest assured this troubador is acting on His part.
The union of your spirits, here, has caused Him to remain
For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name
There is love, there is love.
A man shall leave his mother and a woman leave her home
And they shall travel on to where the two shall be as one.
As it was in the beginning is now and til the end
Woman draws her life from man and gives it back again.
And there is love, there is love.
Well then what's to be the reason for becoming man and wife?
Is it love that brings you here or love that brings you life?
And if loving is the answer, then who's the giving for?
Do you believe in something that you've never seen before?
Oh there's love, there is love.
Oh the marriage of your spirits here has caused Him to remain
For whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name
There is love, there is love.*
As Emily and I turn to face her dad once more, I whisper in her ear, "Yes, there is love."
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*In 1969 Noel Paul Stookey wrote The Wedding Song for his friend's wedding. His friend was Peter Yarrow. With Mary Travers they were Peter, Paul and Mary. The song is still being sung at weddings today, 45 years later. Add 21 years and it obviously is still being sung at weddings. Roger Fenn would have known the song and Louisa, having liked it a lot, arranged for Roger and his son to sing it at her son's wedding.