Page 10 of By Any Beans Necessary

The sermon was about forgiveness and second chances, about letting go of your past misdeeds and giving your life to God. The pastor spoke with a quiet intensity, his words resonating deep within Jeff's chest. He found himself nodding along, his thoughts echoing the message. Forgiveness, he realized, was something he desperately needed.

As the service ended and the congregation began to file out, Jeff hesitated. He wasn't ready to leave yet, not when he felt like he'd only just begun to understand. He watched as Michelle stood, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before she turned and walked away. He couldn't resist; something about her pulled at him. It urged him to follow her, to learn more about this goodness that seemed to spill out of her at every encounter.

"Michelle," he greeted as he approached, trying for casual and landing somewhere closer to awkwardly hopeful.

"Jeff?" Her hazel eyes held surprise and something that might have been pleasure. "What brings you here? Didn't peg you for the church type," Michelle said, her eyebrow arched playfully.

"Neither did I." Jeff shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "But I'm glad I came."

"Me too," she replied with a wide smile that made his heart seize with delight, and there it was—that spark of connection that couldn't be faked or forced.

"Enjoy the sermon?" She folded her arms over her chest, the corners of her mouth lifting in genuine curiosity.

"Actually...yeah." He nodded, surprised by his own admission. "It wasn't what I expected."

"Life's funny like that," she mused, her eyes twinkling with humor.

"Listen, about before..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the weight of his past mistakes.

"Jeff," she interrupted gently, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay."

"Is it? I was a jerk." His words were blunt, unvarnished truth. "I wish I had handled things differently back then."

"Timing is everything," Michelle told him. "But for what it's worth, I always suspected the real reason. You weren't ready, Jeff. And that's why it was okay."

"Even so, I need you to hear me." He finally looked up, searching her face. "Because I've been wanting to say sorry for a while now. Just never knew how to or if I should."

"Apologies are like bandages," she said, stepping closer. "Sometimes they help heal, and sometimes they’re just a temporary cover-up."

"Then consider this a belated attempt at antiseptic." He took a deep breath. "Michelle, I'm sorry—for using your hobbies as an excuse, for not being honest, for...everything."

The apology lingered in the air between them like the remnants of a storm clearing. He let out a sigh of relief when she finally said, "Apology accepted, Jeff. But next time, skip the ridiculous excuses." Her grin was genuine now, and Jeff felt a knot loosen inside him.

"Next time, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, allowing a sliver of hope to enter his tone.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she teased with a laugh.

Jeff nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yeah, maybe we can start over as friends. I'd like that."

The words hung in the air for a few moments as if unsure if they'd been spoken out loud. Michelle studied Jeff as if searching for any hint of insincerity.

"I'd like that too," she said, smiling genuinely. "Friends it is."

"Thank goodness." A wave of relief washed over him as he grinned in return. "I owe you a dinner out on me."

"Deal." Her laughter mingled with the clinking of keys and rustling programs as the congregation filed out as she reached out and shook his hand, causing a shot of electricity to scurry up his arm. Her eyes grew round with surprise as their eyes locked with acknowledgment of what just passed between them. "I'll hold you to that."

"Fair enough." Jeff's eyes crinkled with amusement, holding onto her hand a little longer than was actually necessary. "I'm good for it."

"See that you are." Her playful warning lingered as she gently removed her hand from his.

"Hey, Michelle," a voice called out, slicing through their bubble. It was time to retreat before he made a fool of himself any further. As he stepped away, however, he didn't expect to knock right into a man holding a tray of communion wafers. The tiny, circular crackers scattered to the floor like snowflakes, crunching underfoot as people continued to make their way out of the church.

"I am so sorry," Jeff exclaimed, bending down to help pick up the fragments.

Michelle knelt down, too, and began to help gather the wafers. "No worries, Jeff," she said with a smile, her eyes twinkling. "I think God will forgive us."

As they stood up, Jeff couldn't help but feel a warmth in his chest. Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe forgiveness was possible, even for someone like him. This was it. Time to dive off the deep end. He smiled, brushing a few lingering crumbs from his hands. "I was wondering?—"

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