Once upon a time in a place called Miramar, a Navy helicopter pilot fell in love with a Marine, who, though dense, eventually got a clue.

One Saturday night, the pilot invited him to join her at the Base chapel for Mass, not expecting him to accept her invitation.

This was just before he admitted as they watched the tide come in to having been raised Southern Baptist before he'd found himself lost in the foster system at age 14.

He'd revealed this unknown side to himself to her, eyes averted to the ground.

Which was unusual for him.

The pilot was surprised and then embarrassed when the Marine met her at the chapel door the next morning wearing civilian clothing he obviously hadn't worn for a while.

But his worn shoes gleamed, his shabby white short-sleeved shirt was pressed, and he knew what to do with a clip-on tie.

Which had a duck on it.

A duck with a skin condition.

A bad one.

They soon found themselves sitting, standing, and kneeling – the pilot coaching him with nudges on what to do and when.

So far.

So good.

Until everyone but the Marine sat down when the priest began to sing.

The priest was startled when the Marine remained standing and sang along with him.

Because in the congregations of the Marine's childhood, if one sings, all sing.

Beet red and drenched with sweat, the Marine stood stiffly at attention, loudly calling unintentional cadence in Latin back and forth with the priest, who refused to embarrass himself or the Marine while the pilot tried not to crawl under the pew and hide.

After Mass, the priest caught the couple slinking out the back door.

He said that the Marine had one of the best tenor voices he'd ever heard, and that the unintended cadence version of the Homily had been quite exhilarating.

However, would the Marine, should he choose to return, please sit down with the rest of the congregation when the time was right?

The Marine looked the priest in the eye and said he would. But would the priest mind writing down what the Marine was supposed to do because all that standing, kneeling, and sitting was really confusing and that he didn't mean to steal the priest's thunder.

The two then shook hands.

That afternoon after lunch at the Doublemeat Palace just outside the main gate, the pilot bought the Marine a tie she liked better at the BX.

It was red.

It wasn't a clip-on.

There were no ducks involved whatsoever.

And yeah, he wore it.