He was sitting in The Hideaway, a bar outside Andrews Air Force Base, nursing his drink following yet another confrontation with his uncle. Lee knew he would never convince him why he didn't want to follow in his footsteps and stay in the Army. He was just not cut out for the strict regimentation the Army demanded. It wasn't as if he didn't want to serve his country, he just knew the military wasn't for him. He just didn't know what to do with the military intelligence experience he had earned in the service he had just been discharged from three weeks ago. He also knew he could no longer live in a battle of wills with the colonel. He paid his tab, ready to leave when his attention was diverted toward raised voices at a booth across the room. There, sat a young woman arguing with her companion across from her. Well, arguing wasn't the right word. She was stiffly sitting there with her head down, not looking at him, listening to his tirade. Lee looked over to the man who was causing her this distress. He looked to be in his late thirties, early forties. The look in his cold, blue eyes made him shudder, and he felt a sudden stab of dislike for the man who could bring pain to this young woman. As he wasn't exactly yelling at her, Lee could only surmise that maybe it was the man's pompous, arrogant tone that drew his attention. Before Lee had a chance to intervene, the man stood, clenching a cigarette holder in his teeth, and left the bar with a disdainful air.
In one of the few times in his life, Lee was torn. Should he approach the young woman and offer her an ear or a shoulder to cry on? Or should he just mind his own business? Remembering how many times he needed someone to talk to and there was no one there, he decided to take a chance. The worst that could happen was that she would decline and walk out. He approached her table carefully, aware she may consider what he was about to ask might sound like a pick-up line, so he thought he should be as direct as he could and hope for the best.
"Excuse me, ma'am, I couldn't help but overhear. You look like you could use a friend. Do you mind if I sit down?"
She looked up, searching his face. Seeing no apparent guile in his hazel eyes, she nodded.
"My name's Lee, Lee Stetson," he said, extending his hand.
"Sarah, Sarah Thornton," she replied, her shaking hands accepting his handshake.
Lee took the opportunity to search her face. She was very pretty, in the girl-next-door kind of way, but it was her eyes, the chocolate pools which now were swimming with unshed tears, that drew his attention. He thought to himself that he would really like to be her friend. In fact, he wouldn't mind the possibility of becoming more than friends. He picked up a napkin, handed it to her, and then looked away as she composed herself.
"Thank you, I try hard not to let him get to me, but I keep hoping things would change."
"You could tell me to mind my own business, but what are you doing with a man like him? Surely there's someone who appreciates you and treats you as you deserve?"
"There is, but he's overseas. He was drafted into the navy six months ago."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry." Lee felt a pang of disappointment as he realized that friends would be all they'd ever be.
"It's not what you think," she interrupted his thoughts, knowing what he must think of her. "He's my father."