Wednesday, January 2, 2013

For Love

“You will not marry a military lifer if I can help 
it.”  My father was yelling from the living room 
because I had told him I have a date this 
evening with Steve, the guy I met just one 
week ago at our home barbecue, the backyard 
party my father decided to put on for some of 
the military  people from the local Reserve 
Center in Penn Yan, New York, where we live.  

The weather forecast, the day of the barbecue, had called for sunny skies, warm temperatures and little did I know, 

with a mixture of love in the air.

  The last thing I had planned on was meeting an Army man 

that I’d soon become infatuated with. 
I was used to seeing young men come and go at 
our home most of my life, so this was nothing 

They all apparently liked my dad a lot because they’d come over to see him and talk with him almost daily. 

 But I must admit, that sunny afternoon of the barbecue 
though, I could not ever remember seeing so 
many young men all at once at our home.  

In fact, Our backyard was so full of handsome 

young military men that day, my friend Angie 
remarked: “It looks like a smorgasbord of men. 
Something that every young woman dreams 

I do remember looking for a place to sit down once 
my plate was full of food.  

 Suddenly I found myself looking at one of the handsomest guys I had ever laid eyes on ,  and he was sitting by himself.   He didn't notice me because he appeared to be pretty engrossed in the food on his plate.  

I decided to work up my nerve and go sit down 
across from him.  He barely looked up, but for a brief moment he did smile, say hi but then immediately began 
attacking his food again.

 “I guess the chef here knows how to 

 He stopped chewing and looked up, with an 
almost perplexed look on his face like he had 
no idea what I was talking about.   I smiled, 
drew a breath and decided to begin again. 

“I mean you seem to be very pleased with the 
food, meaning  the chef must be a pretty good 
at barbecuing,” I said.  

He nodded his head now as if he understood I was referring to the food on his plate.  I couldn't help but notice his body.  He was slender but muscular.  I wondered how he stayed looking this good by eating so much.

“Oh, well, it’s just that I really do love a good 
backyard barbecue.  I suppose I look like I 
haven’t eaten in a long time, kind of making a 
pig of myself I guess.”  

I suddenly felt embarrassed that he thought might be comparing him to a pig. I felt a flush creep across my cheeks.

Now almost stammering:  “Oh, I just meant,” He cut me off before I could finish my lame apology. 

“Hey, its fine, I know I was pretty wrapped up 
in my plate here.”  He reached out his hand: 
“Hi, I’m Steve and I’m pleased to meet you.”  I 
took his extended hand . 

“I’m Lacey Montgomery and I’m very pleased 

to meet you too,” I said in return. 

He paused for a moment as if he was deep in thought.   “Montgomery as in:"

“Yes as in the same last name as the DI who 
lives here; I’m his daughter,” I finished the sentence for him.

“So this is;” 

Yes,” I interrupted again, “this is where I 

Now  his face seemed to turn a light shade of 

pink, like he was embarrassed with this new 
found knowledge.  

That’s how Steve and I first met, with me 
practically calling him a pig and so I’m always 
amazed he even liked me at all after that analogy. 

But he did like me, in fact he liked me enough 

to even accept an invitation to my 18th birthday 
party my best friend Angie was throwing for me 
the next weekend.  

Here I was now, the weekend of my 18th birthday party, me looking in the mirror, checking my choice of attire and my dad embarrassing the hell out of me by yelling up the stairs like some crazy person.