CARLSBAD -- Linda Sanders looked deep into the eyes of Evelyn Thomas, who smiled back with the same radiant grin that captured her heart 18 years ago.

"I love everything about her," Sanders said. "When I first met her, I said she's an angel and God sent her to me."

As a couple, the two may not seem perfectly matched. Sanders is 60, white and from Virginia's Appalachian Mountains. Thomas is 39, black and grew up in California and Texas.

But those differences were easily trumped by love. In matters of the heart, they are inseparable and committed to sharing a life, a home and a future.

In matters of the law, however, they have been outsiders, unable to make the same commitment as their heterosexual friends whose weddings they love to attend.

That will change Tuesday, when a state Supreme Court decision allowing gays to marry goes into effect.

"It's going to be difficult for me, the first time I refer to her as my wife," Thomas said, still a little overwhelmed that a long-time dream is becoming reality.

It's going to be difficult for other people to accept as well, and Sanders said she recognizes the weight of the court's decision.

"To give us and others like us the legality to marry is going to be a major culture change," Sanders said.

But for Sanders and Thomas, Christians who regularly attend church, getting married isn't about politics or cultural revolution.

"We're not trying to change anybody's beliefs," Thomas said. "We're just saying we have a love to share."

The couple has a Tuesday appointment at the San Marcos Courthouse to pick up their marriage application and plan to marry at Pilgrim United Church of Christ in Carlsbad on June 29, Thomas' birthday and the anniversary of their meeting.

"We still can't believe we're getting married," Sanders said. "Even when they announced it, I still wasn't convinced. We thought it would be overturned on a technicality."

Her disbelief is understandable. Opponents to the Supreme Court's decision quickly organized a proposed Constitutional amendment to recognize only marriages between a man and woman. The proposal will be on the November ballot.

The challenge does not come as a surprise to the couple, who say they have faced professional and personal harassment and discrimination much of their lives.

'I always knew'

Growing up in a small mountain community in Virginia, "I didn't really know at the time what I was," Sanders said.

The 13th of 14 children, Sanders said most everybody was related to somebody else in her small Appalachian town, and there were few opportunities for work or education.

After her family moved to Washington, D.C., Sanders met a man, got married and had a son, now 39 and living in Seattle. Despite loving many things about her husband, Sanders said she never understood what it meant to be in love during her 11-year marriage.

Then one day, Sanders met a woman. Her marriage ended and she entered a 13-year relationship, followed by a one-year relationship with another woman before meeting Thomas.

Thomas was born in Los Angeles and moved to Killeen, Texas, at age 5 with her brother and mother, who didn't want her children influenced by gangs.

"I always knew I was different," Thomas said, recalling how she fought her mother's and aunt's attempts to get her to wear dresses and makeup.

But different didn't mean strange to Thomas, who said she felt natural as a tomboy dressed in jeans and playing football.

She didn't even know what the word "gay" meant when other students started teasing her with the word after she wrote a letter confiding about dreaming of another girl.

The teasing led to her becoming an outsider, with her only friends a pregnant girl, a gay boy and a girl with a lisp, Thomas said.

They were known to other students as "The freak squad."

Her friendship with a girlfriend fell apart when the other girl denied their relationship, and Thomas left town after high school graduation.

She joined the Army National Guard and then the U.S. Marine Corps, serving at Camp Pendleton for four years.

They meet

On June 29, 1991, Thomas celebrated her birthday by dressing up and taking a Greyhound Bus to San Diego. She arrived at the lesbian bar the Flame around 5:30 p.m.

The place was almost empty except for a friendly Southern woman sitting at the bar.

"You have a beautiful smile," Sanders said when she saw Thomas.

They talked for hours. They danced. By the end of the night, Thomas had placed her hand on Sanders' knee. They learned they both lived in North County, and Sanders offered to give Thomas a ride home.

They got to know one another, but because of the military's "Don't ask, don't tell" policy involving homosexuality, both were hesitant to reveal where they worked.

When finally comfortable enough to talk openly, they learned they worked across the street from each other on Camp Pendleton.

Their jobs, however, would soon come to an end.

Sanders said she was fired from her civilian job as a program analyst at Camp Pendleton in 1992 after working at the base for 23 years.

Thomas said she was a gung-ho Marine with a spotless record until another Marine went through her locker and found a letter from her mother asking about her new girlfriend.

She said she was called into her commander's office, read her rights, and told other Marines were uncomfortable around her.

Thomas said she felt scared and tried to conceal her identity. She had a relationship with a man and got pregnant, but her son was born prematurely and died a day after his birth. He would have been 18 June 14.

Honorably discharged from the Marines, she went to college and was hired as a teacher at Oceanside High School five years ago.

Sanders said she keeps the home fires burning at the Carlsbad Village apartment they share. The couple moved into together less than a year after meeting and are saving to buy a house.

'At last'

Evenings at home are spent cooking together while listening to Thomas' collection of Billie Holiday, Nancy Wilson and Barbara Streisand vinyl albums.

They share the New York Times crossword puzzle each day, rent movies -- Thomas likes mysteries and Sanders prefers love stories -- and like to take long walks on the beach.

Sanders rolled her eyes when thinking of how far removed their real life is from the image some people have of homosexuals.

"We have the same dreams and goals as everybody," she said. "We have the same love we want to share."

Thomas' work with youths inspired her and Sanders to start a camp for children who are infected with or affected by HIV/AIDS. They also plan to open a North County home for transgender youths and hope to take one in as a foster child once they are married.

The couple have participated in commitment ceremonies before, but Sanders said marriage will bring an extra layer of security and meaning.

She has read that couples gain 1,001 rights when married, and she and Thomas are especially happy that they will be married in a church that is open to them.

"Jesus didn't say anything about homosexuals," Thomas said. "He said, 'Love thy neighbor as thyself.' How can anybody have anything against love?"

Like any couple looking forward to their big day, Sanders and Thomas are abuzz with excitement and anxiety as they make plans.

Even though marriage was never a possibility before, Thomas admits she has thought about it for years.

"I always imagined in my mind Linda and I getting married and standing in front of a preacher," Thomas said. "I even imagined the outfit I'd wear. For years, I saw myself in white cotton pants and a colbert-blue shirt, Linda with a beautiful white dress. And I'm going to wear a black cowboy hat."

For their first dance, Sanders and Thomas have chosen an old standard often played at weddings.

For this reception, however, there will be a new relevance to the lyrics as the two brides take to the floor as a married couple and embrace to the Etta James song, "At Last."

Contact staff writer Gary Warth at (760) 740-5410 or gwarth@nctimes.com.