Rememberies: Part the Second

For my second remembery of this Valentine's Week, I think I shall choose last year's Valentine's Day, in honor of this year's Valentine's Day, which happens to be today. (You will soon understand why Pete and I are not going out to celebrate in public this evening.)

On Valentine's Day last year, we decided to dress up and go out. Pete, ever the romantic, called Lightfoot, an upscale restaurant in Leesburg, Virginia, ahead of time to request reservations for two, a measure of sacrifice, since we were saving money for the wedding at that point. He was being so conscientious that he didn't even spend money on flowers that evening!

He dropped me off at home that evening after work, and went home himself to get ready. I showered and changed into my "little black dress," and tried not to be nervous about my first hot Valentine's date. By the time Pete got to my house to pick me up, however, I was so nervous, I didn't even know how to talk to him!

We spent the ride to Leesburg mostly in silence, with both of us trying to figure out why the other had gotten quiet, and nearly got into an argument about it when we arrived. Neither of us wanted to hurt the other, and we wanted it to be a lovely evening, so when we finally figured out that we were both nervous, that I thought Pete looked really good, and he thought I looked better, we were friends again.

We were early for our reservation time, so, because the night was warm, we took a stroll through Old Town Leesburg, as I presented my rather thrown-together Valentine's gift for Pete. I had decided I would walk through 1 Corinthians 13 and share with Pete how he had lived that passage toward me. I suppose I had hoped it would be a bit more eloquent and romantic, but as it was, I only got through about half the passage, stumbling all the way, and then it was time for us to go inside the restaurant. I don't know that he was very impressed, but I think it was the effort that counted.

Lightfoot was rather busy that evening, with live music and a louder sound of conversation than usual. We sat down, waiting for our menu, planning our way around the very expensive dinners, knowing from previous experience that we could get out of there for less than $50.00.

Or so we thought.

In an "only-God-could-have-come-up-with-this" icebreaker, we found that the restaurant was only serving one meal that evening, a $200.00 dinner for two. With wine, it was $250.00. We were glad we didn't drink.

I could have died on the spot, but Pete set his jaw and informed me that we were staying, and we would pay for it. So I set myself to enjoy this $200.00 dinner that I can't remember now, with the exception of the imported Irish cheese on the bruschetta.

It was over the course of that evening that we began to discuss our honeymoon plans. Pete really wanted to take me to Europe, but the more that we both thought about it, the more grueling it sounded for my health. That was when Pete asked me about Colorado. He listened as I told him stories of the sights I had seen while I lived out there, of how I had seen God so clearly in the mountains, and discovered the wildness in my heart through the wildness of the mountains, and then he asked me if I wanted to honeymoon there. It was the best Valentine's gift I'd ever received!

At the end of the evening, as we prepared to leave, Pete approached the employee at the bar and requested a tulip from one of several vases set on the bar. The drunken, undoubtedly single woman sneered at him and explained that of *course* he could NOT have one. My husband, then fiancé, flashed a bit of fire--I swear, I saw smoke coming out of his ears!--picked up a tulip, and came back to the table to collect me and leave.

We laughed all the way home, knowing it would be a memory to share with our children, about the expensive date we didn't mean to have, and the lesson Dad learned about checking his facts before committing to a thing.

Here's hoping for a smoother Valentine's Day this year--cheaply at home!