Most people would consider it a coup to marry an officer in the U.S. Navy, but the McAllens counted it a failure on my part. Some fathers would even thank their daughters for eloping, but that was not the case for me. I heard nothing but displeasure and bitterness. Dropping out of college for a man I barely know, gallivanting off to a foreign country to live among strangers. Where had they gone wrong?

They didn’t want to hear about my happiness, my excitement about our future. They didn’t believe me when I said I’d finish my degree. They didn’t trust Steve when he said he’d take care of me.

I was mortified that he had to face my parents’ stiff disapproval and their dour predictions that we were making a disastrous mistake. I admired him for facing their skepticism with calm fortitude. In private, he told me, “If this is going to drive a wedge between you and your family, we’ll find another way. Maybe we should wait—”

“We could wait until doomsday and they’d never come around. I don’t want to wait.”

Only my grandmother gave her blessing, wishing us joy and reminding us to be good to each other.

I considered the possibility that my parents’ extreme reaction was caused by fear of losing me. Unfortunately, I never really believed that. Their disappointment was so deep and bitter that we never recovered from it or breached the rift. In a way, that was their gift to me. Now I was free to devote all my energy to loving Steve and making a life with him.

As for my parents, they seemed willing to write me off. It was their loss, I told myself. They never had the chance to know Steve. I promised to keep them in the loop, sending photos and cheerful letters, but only Gran seemed to appreciate my efforts.

It hurt to be forced into making a choice between the man I love and what my parents wanted for me. My heart paid a toll when I became estranged from them in this way.

“I feel like an orphan,” I said to Steve.

“Welcome to the club,” he said, and pulled me into his arms. Then he told me about his own mother, a drug addict living in a crummy apartment on Telephone Road in Houston. She had simply drifted away one day when he was little, and the neighbors turned him in to child welfare. I was horrified by that. I couldn’t imagine a mother who would turn away from her child for any reason.

My parents threw me away because I refused to live the life they wanted for me. That wasn’t my job, but that’s what they raised me to do. Steve was abandoned by a mother who couldn’t help herself. Mine was completely rational when she turned her back on me. In our own ways, we each paid a toll. Sometimes we felt like two shipwreck survivors, adrift in the world.

My heart was heavy, but as the miles sped back on the journey to the Naval Station at Pensacola, I counted my blessings and my anticipation soared.

Like all girls, I pictured myself as the bride in a grand wedding. Was I let down by the private ceremony conducted by a Navy chaplain, attended only by Steve’s friend and fellow officer Whitey Love, who stood up as witness? Honestly, I was not. The marriage ceremony was merely a formality to be dispensed with as soon as possible so we could start our life together.

My wedding night, spent in a room at the Navy Lodge overlooking Parking Lot B-19, more than made up for the low-key ceremony, the lack of pomp and circumstance. That night, there were fireworks and comets and whirlwinds, and I found such joy in the arms of my bridegroom that I was overwhelmed with emotion.

When I admitted my inexperience, he seemed startled and perhaps even moved. He kissed me tenderly and said, “I didn’t know you’d saved yourself for marriage.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “I saved myself for you.”