This is a continuation of Pemberly Farnsworth’s story: A few necessary under things and a cute negligee that Phil’s mother insisted I should have, completed my trousseau and I was delighted that the money Phil (Philo T. Farnsworth); had given his mother easily covered it. From that time on Mrs. Farnsworth treated me as one of her own daughters, and she was always Mother Farnsworth to me. Knowing how worried I was about leaving, Mother Farnsworth assured me that she and Agnes would do what they could to help my little sisters and Alton. Our two families shared a duplex and they would be close by. My brother Art and Phil’s brother Carl had become fast friends.
Wednesday afternoon, Phil and Cliff arrived in style. Mr. Everson had loaned Phil his Chandler Roadster for the occasion. Everyone was in a state of high excitement, but Phil and I were walking on air! The next day dawned bright and sunny. The May flowers and many blooming shrubs took on more brilliant colors than ever I remembered them before; the entire world seemed to have joined our celebration. By ten o’clock the house was full of friends and relatives. When I came down the stairs, my brother Cliff pulled me aside and said, “Sis, don’t look now, but your slip is showing.” I was mortified and retreated back up the stairs and tightened the shoulder straps on it. I felt a sudden yearning for my dear sweet mother. How I wished she were here to share this moment. A warm feeing of comfort spread over me, and somehow I knew she was with me in spirit. I wiped away a tear and hoped it hadn’t smeared my wedding makeup.
President Knight arrived as I once again descended the stairs. He was a truly spiritual man, the words he spoke as we stood before him with Cliff and Agnes on either side, as best man and maid of honor, touched us deeply. My heart was pounding in my throat, so I was sure I would only be able to croak when I had to speak. Phil was holding my hand, and I was grateful for his firm, steady presence. I always felt safe and invulnerable when near him. Now he smiled at me reassuringly and squeezed my hand, his damp palm betraying his outward calm. We then made our vows. Surprisingly enough I heard an “I do” come out of my mouth, and we were pronounced “man and wife.”
Everyone was laughing or crying, kissing the bride and hugging the bridegroom, and President Knight was caught up in some of the confusion. While filling out the marriage certificate, he wrote his name where Phil’s should have been. Luckily Phil was able to produce some ink eradicator and the error was quickly corrected, but through the years those smudges on our wedding certificate took us back to that happy day.
After a short reception, we drove to Salt Lake City with Phil’s mother and my dad in the rumble seat. They wanted to see us off on the train next morning. Phil had arranged for them to stay at Mrs. Thomas’s boarding house, so he dropped them off there. Then he took me to a modest hotel near the train station, where he had reserved a room.
In the privacy of our room, Phil’s exuberance overflowed. He put his arms around me and swung me around several times; then putting me down, he told me he had to return Mr. Everson’s car, because the train was leaving at 6:30 AM. He had been thinking on the way from Provo that he really didn’t have enough money to last in Los Angeles until Mr. Everson arrived. He would have to see about that and a couple of other things. Would I mind? He promised that he wouldn’t be gone long. So of course, I said, “I’ll be fine.” Left alone on our wedding night, I welcomed the chance to catch my breath and review the whirlwind experience of the past three days. As the reality of the moment settled in, I began to recall our courtship. To be continued.
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