Vows

As Louisa started to walk forward, Roger Fenn stepped to her side to take her elbow.

"Louisa, you look beautiful," he whispered to her earnestly.

"Tha…" her mouth was suddenly dry, "thanks, Roger," she replied. She gripped his arm as he took her elbow.

"Nervous?"

"Yeah…" she muttered, "but here now. Sorry about… uhm… our delay."

Roger smiled encouragingly. "No matter. Just keep smiling and putting one foot in front of the other."

And keep breathing, she thought, calm, even breaths, while the music played on and on, while all the villagers watched her, tradition to observe the bride ever so closely as she approached the groom in front of the vicar.

Not 'the groom,' Louisa, but Martin; Martin Ellingham, the Doc, Doc Martin, she reminded herself. Mar-tin, she sighed to herself, Mar-tin, she thought tenderly. His face held an expression of wonder as she marched towards him. Today's the day, Louisa my girl; today is the day. Just get through this and it will be okay. Really.

Martin eventually came to his senses and realized that Roger Fenn was escorting Louisa up the aisle. He looked over at Aunt Joan who had just turned to smile at him. He saw her mouth the word, 'Marty,' her term of endearment from his young days, except as an adult for when she would address him with a severe, 'oh Martin!' when she disapproved of something he had done or said. But today, she looked genuinely happy for him and Louisa; despite her occasional warnings when they had bust-ups that he and the head teacher were 'chalk and cheese.' Well, he thought he liked cheese, and perhaps Louisa could endure chalk. He'd have to make sure he worked on that. Reducing his chalk-like nature.

He sighed to himself. Well, dear Aunt Joan, today is the day on which I do something for which you approve, or so he hoped.

"Here, she comes," Porter whispered. "And isn't she a beauty. Well done there, Ellingham. Well done indeed!"

Martin whipped his head to stare at Porter, who returned his glare with a wink.

Yes, thought Martin, Louisa Glasson is beautiful. From the first instant he saw her boarding the aircraft three years ago her appearance had caught his attention; a long and slim body, well-shaped but bust not overdone, with long glossy dark hair and a symmetrical face with green eyes. But of course, her right eye had that twitch plus a semi-fixed pupil. If she'd not had glaucoma, and he had not diagnosed it properly, would they be together? It wasn't like the village was exactly filled with suitable suitors. Chippy Miller? Old Adam what's his name? Mike Chubb? No, he realized, only Al Large sort of fit the bill, and he was what? Nine years her junior? In shock, Martin did the math for himself and Louisa using their birthdates. She was 37 and he was 46. Hm. Eight years apart. Well, he rationalized, so be it. He squared his shoulders and tried to blank his stirred-up thoughts. But from the very first he loved her if that was possible. He'd not spoken a word to her on that plane, yet… yet… he was fascinated with her. Wanted to hear her speak. Wanted to… get to know her better. Wanted… to get here.

Porter cleared his throat. Once more into the breach my friends, he mused. Well, Louisa Glasson was certainly a looker. He'd not dump that one out of bed for eating crackers. He reflected on his own marriage. His wife Beth was also a looker, but she had a tongue that could flay steel plate when stirred up. He himself was too immature when they got hitched and they were ill-suited from the beginning. Beth loved to go out, see people, have a drink or two; or more. He on the other hand took his clerical duties very seriously at that time and had a habit of absenting himself to the garden or the church for prayer. In the end she'd left him, and though they had never divorced he'd not spoken to her in oh gosh, fifteen years? Twelve years? Long time. Best to let those memories lay fallow.

Mrs. Tishell was trying very hard to keep playing the organ smoothly and majestically. She cast a quick glance towards the aisle to time her progress playing the piece – Pachelbel was so lovely – but there was Louisa just coming into view close to the head of the aisle. She winced when she saw Martin give the bride a quick and faint smile. God… if only… but a lost and gone opportunity now, she sniffed. She prayed for strength but then turned her thoughts to her husband Clive. He up on the rigs in the North Sea and she her, in the village that was her home, the chemist's shop long in her family and always run by the women of the family. Strong women all, she knew, and she was herself strong. Another glance at the Doc. She had to be strong to resist him, his rugged animal magnetism almost making her miss a note or two, but she carried on. Yes, Sally, just carry on. Get through this? She bit her lips and tried not to cry.

Louisa smiled at Martin. Well, here I am, made it up the aisle, and Martin was right there on her right side. She was glad, but nervous; a turning point in her life. All other things to come would be measured from this day – this time – this moment. Martin's face softened as he smiled at her, briefly, then turned towards Mr. Porter.

Porter cleared his throat, as the music stopped. "Dearly beloved we are gathered here in the sight of God and this company to marry this man to this woman." He grimaced over at the man escorting the bride. "Who gives this woman to this man?" he asked in a loud voice.

"I do," Roger answered. He smiled at Louisa and lightly took her hand, just as Martin squared up next to her. Funny, Roger thought, how he and Louisa started as enemies over his job loss and then ended up as friends; no more than that, almost a father and daughter thing. If only his own daughter was as nice and engaging as this young woman standing in white beside him, yet to be honest he had been a rotten father and husband. Now he and Maureen had a new life and twin sons to raise.

Pauline Lamb was suddenly right by Roger, a bit in a huff. She was to proceed the bride up the aisle. She was the bridesmaid, well, the second bridesmaid, sort of, but the other one was off in hospital with her new baby girl. She reached across Roger, practically snatched the flowers out of Louisa's grip and stepped back. "Sorry," she muttered apologetically to Louisa. "You need hands free."

She and Roger did a bit of a dance shuffle until she retreated so Roger could present the bride to the groom. The congregants chuckled while Bert Large shouted, "Get on with it!"

Roger ducked his head, then reverently placed Louisa's right hand into Martin's then he stepped aside. He skirted around Pauline who was determined, it seemed, to stake out a place for herself, so he got past her and sat down next to Maureen in the front row alongside Joan Norton, who was weeping slow tears through a fixed smile.

Porter bit his lip. Okay, here we go. "You may be seated," he addressed the full church.

He snuck a quick look at his watch. The pigs will need feeding. "Right. Since the bride and groom arrived late, and I am very certain you are all quite anxious to get to the reception…" The crowd tittered in reply. Porter glared at them. He took a deep breath and began to speak. "When Jesus was at the wedding in Cana, he expressed the idea, albeit by turning water into wine, when the supply ran short, that a marriage is a blessed event; blessed by God in that miracle." He paused for effect. "Now, Martin and Louisa. Getting married is a blessed thing, provided…" he stopped for his voice shook. "Uhm, provided that you are prepared to believe that each of you is a blessing to the other. Oh, you'll have tiffs and falling outs, fights – one hopes only verbal ones – but think on this: when that happens and it does not matter who started the dustup or who believes they have the moral ground, just stop and apologize. Swallow your pride."

Martin and Louisa each had startled looks, so at least he had their attention now.

"Now, that said, in marriage one is to enjoy and respect your partner and mate. Enjoy the happiness that you get from and give to each other and respect that the other is a real person, with their own wants and desires - needs as well." he paused. "So... work on it. Are you prepared to become more than a married couple? Not just husband and wife but also partners? A team? Friends, if I may suggest that?"

Bride and groom nodded but with wondering looks. No doubt what he was telling them was quite different from what they may have expected. Well, so be it.

Porter looked around the room and saw that his words had struck him with at least a few. Women placing heads on male shoulders, some wiping away a tear, hands clasped together.

"Right. Martin and Louisa are you prepared to be married to one another? Martin do you take this woman Louisa Roberta Glasson to be your wedded wife? To have and hold, respect and love and so on?"

Martin's tongue and entire oral cavity was dry as dust, but he got out, "I do." He'd actually said it; said the words.

Porter smiled grimly. "Louisa, do you take this man, Martin Christopher Ellingham, to be your wedded husband? To have and hold, respect and love and so forth?"

Louisa took a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. She supposed they have to work on the 'and so forth' part. She squared her shoulders, raised her head and said in a clear voice, "I do."

Then Porter directed them to exchange rings, which they did after he had blessed the metal and precious stones.

A rustle of amazed sounds emanated behind the bridal pair, and Martin could have sworn he heard paper money changing hands. Had villagers actually been betting money on the completion of the ceremony? Good heavens, he fumed. Those… he sighed… people!

Porter stared at these two, as if they were sacrificial lambs before him. There was something he had to add before he pronounced the words sealing this contract between God and man. "One more thing," he added, "and as a married people ask yourself in all things, 'do I make my partner happy?' for if you do that…" he shrugged, "it will smooth the path you are on." It was advice which he wished had been given to him when he married Beth. It might have made a difference.

The pair glanced at one another with startled looks.

"Good, fine then," Porter told them. "I hope that makes you think." Next he looked at the church goers. Forcing a smile, he announced in a loud voice, "Then by the power invested in me by God, the United Kingdom, and the historic county of Cornwall, I now pronounce you man and wife! You may now kiss one another!"

As Martin bent his neck and planted his lips onto a smiling Louisa, Mrs. Tishell immediately began to play 'Purcell's Trumpet Voluntary' with all the organ stops pulled out.