Years turned. Long-distance became hard, but they worked through it. When Roberta finished school, they married in a simple ceremony behind her parents’ farmhouse—fireflies drifting like lanterns in the dusk.


They had three children. A loud, lively home full of mismatched socks, Saturday pancake breakfasts, and Steve’s habit of humming old country songs while fixing anything that broke. They moved between Kansas and Alabama for work, making each place feel like home.


Their love settled into something sturdy—less like lightning, more like a steady fire that never dimmed.