Finally My Forever Read online

  "I meant to tell you, I really loved your Halloween song the other night," I said.

  He had taken a bite, and he laughed as he chewed. Even his chewing was handsome. Muscles in his jaw and temple worked, and I had to stare at his shirt to keep from gawking at him.

  "I'm serious," I said. "I can't believe what a good musician you are. Thomas was telling me you're playing with a Christian band now."

  "I am."

  "How'd that come about?" I asked.

  "Are you asking how I met the guys or how I came about wanting to play Christian music?"

  "Both, I guess."

  "I met the guys at church, but I don't play with the same guys all the time. The band changes depending on who's available when I'm playing. I'm recording an album soon, though, and I have a core group for that. There's five others besides me."

  "Do you mostly do songs you wrote?"

  "Yeah. I love writing. I was writing all the stuff for Sweet East too."

  "So what made you change to Christian music?" I asked.

  He smiled as if he knew that question was coming. "It's funny how God can use the most unlikely thing to hit you," he said. "I grew up in the church, and if you would have asked me, I would have told you that Jesus Christ was my savior, but for a long time, it really didn't show it the way I was living. I was just doing life in college, and Jesus was pretty much on the back burner. Anyway, I had made a couple of albums with Sweet East, and they did pretty well on iTunes. We were doing gigs every weekend and drawing some good crowds, but it just felt like it wasn't enough. We had some success, but I just kept wanting more, more, more—feeling like nothing was enough."

  He paused as if to gauge whether not I was still interested and I smiled and nodded.

  "So one weekend when we weren't playing, I came home. Thomas and I were both sitting in the living room and mom asked me to read to him. She's always buying different kinds curriculum for him so he can learn new things, and she asked me to read out of a music appreciation book thinking it would appeal to both of us. The story happened to be about Johan Sebastian Bach. Do you know who he is?"

  I nodded. "Of course."

  "Did you know he was a Christian?" he asked.

  I shook my head.

  "Me neither," he said. "I had no idea until I read to Thomas that day. Apparently, he was a really devout Christian. He worshiped God through his music. His only goal in life was to please God and help others with his talent. It said he never even tried to become famous or make his works well known—that he didn't even try to preserve the things he wrote, he just wrote to please and worship God, and that was it."

  "Wow," I sighed. "That's crazy."

  "I know, right? He would write initials at the end of his compositions. They were S.D.G., and they stood for the Latin phrase Soli Deo Gloria, meaning to the glory of God alone."

  Micah took the final bite of his gyro and we sat in silence for a minute. I found myself trying to remember some of Bach's famous work and imagined him with a quill or whatever he wrote with, composing it for God alone.

  Micah used a napkin to wipe his mouth before crumpling it up and dropping it in the empty basket in front of him.

  "Something clicked in me that day," he said shaking his head. "I'd been spending so much time and energy trying to make people notice and appreciate me as an artist… constantly wondering what other people thought of my music. Something about the idea of using my art to glorify God alone seemed right. I was liberated and humbled all at the same time. I mean, if someone like Bach was willing to use his talents for God alone, how much more willing should I be?" He paused and shrugged. "I know there's a stigma to Christian music or whatever, and honestly I don't care. I didn't find true happiness in using my talent until I wasn't trying to impress anyone but God with it."

  Chapter 15

  Something about Micah's story hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't think I necessarily had a talent I could use as a form of worship, but the mindset appealed to my soul on a level I didn't quite understand. He seemed grounded and content, and I found myself wanting that same feeling.

  "So you switched over to writing Christian music?" I asked.

  "I still write love songs, and tons of random silliness, but yeah, I starting putting pen to paper with Bach's story in mind, and inspiration came easy. The more I do it, the easier it is, and the closer I feel to God. It's not like I changed my whole life and started being Mr. Perfect Christian all the time, but I do feel close to Him. I enjoy singing to Him and about Him, and I enjoy the opportunity to see my music help other people. Sometimes it makes me feel so good, I think it's more for me than it is for Him."

  He paused, but I was chewing a bite of salad, so he continued.

  "The girl you met at that bar broke up with me when the change took place." He shrugged. "I didn't think I changed at all, I mean, I still had the same sense of humor and everything, but she wasn't into my life being more Christ centered. I hadn't been going to church long when I met Natalie. I thought I was on the right track. I was open and willing to being used by God, and dating a good girl, and then, bam—out of nowhere the accident."

  "Did it make you want to turn around and run the other way?" I asked.

  "You'd think it would have, but it did the exact opposite. I can't imagine trying to go through something like that alone… and I'm not talking about family. I mean internally—some things can only be addressed supernaturally, you know? The guilt and the vision of her dying would have been too much to bear without leaning on God. Anyway, I did the opposite of turning away. I wrote prolifically during those first few months."

  "Do you ever wonder why God would allow that to happen to you?" I asked.

  He smiled. "All the time. But I wonder it in a happy, expectant way."

  My face must have shown my confusion because he laughed. "What I mean is that I know for a fact in the deepest parts of my heart that God has a plan, and that specific pain is part of it. I find it easy to trust that."

  "I wasn't raised going to church, and I've only recently been thinking about God," I admitted. "Sometimes I think if I'd been closer to Him during the past few years, everything with Zeke would have been easier."

  Micah shook his head. "I honestly don’t know how you did it without Him."

  "I guess I pray to Him as good as I know how when I'm feeling scared or wake up from a nightmare, but I doubt I'm doing it right."

  "There are no rules," he said. "God hears you when you talk to him, period. There's no protocol."

  "What about for getting into heaven?" I asked.

  "What about it?"

  "What's the protocol for that?"

  "It's not complicated," he said. "It's just a matter of knowing that your sins separate you from God and believing that Christ died and rose from the grave to bridge the gap between you and God. Once the significance of that sacrifice sinks in, then you feel sorry for your sins, and you ask Him to live in your heart. You just tell Him you desire to trust and follow Him."

  "And that's it?" I asked. "You don't have to say certain words in a certain sequence like a magical prayer or something?"

  He shook his head. "Not really. Churches usually lead people in a sinner's prayer, but it's basically what I told you just now. All that matters is that your heart understands and agrees with the things I just said."

  "Say what a church would say," I said.

  "What?" he asked, looking confused.

  "That sinner's prayer you just mentioned. Say it."

  He smiled. "You want me to recite it?" he asked with wide eyes.

  "Yeah."

  "I mean, I don't know how good of a job I'd do on the spot like this. I'm not a pastor or anything."

  "Try it," I said.

  He smiled and shook his head, but I could tell his wheels were turning as he attempted to put something together. He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to us, and then he said, "I guess it would go something like, Jesus, I know I'm a sinner, and I ask your for
giveness. I believe You died for me and rose from the grave. I turn from my sin and invite you into my heart and life. I want to trust and follow you as my Lord and Savior."

  He spoke softly but to the point as if he couldn't quite believe I was making him recite that in the middle of a Greek restaurant, but he smiled afterward as if surprised by how good it sounded. I smiled back at him and set down my fork. It had been a while since I took a bite, and I was no longer hungry anyway.

  "So if in my heart I said what you just said, then that's it—that's all I have to do?"

  "Did you?" His eyes popped open in a look of surprise that was so cute I couldn't help but giggle.

  "Probably," I said, wiping at a few tears that were trying to escape the corner of my eyes.

  "Did you seriously?" he asked putting his palms on the table and leaning toward me with wide eyes. "Just now?"

  He was so animated and funny that I was laughing and crying at the same time.

  "I think I did. I tried to. I wanted to."

  He clapped his hands in front of him one time so loudly that it drew glances from several people. "Yes!" he said, raising his arms exactly like Thomas. "That's the coolest thing God's ever let me do!" he whispered excitedly. "That's awesome!"

  I couldn’t stop tears from coming to my eyes. I felt relief and happiness that had nothing to do with the huge crush I had on Micah. I used the paper napkin that was sitting on my lap to wipe the happy tears, and the next thing I knew he was out of his chair standing next to me.

  He stuck out his hand and I took it, letting him pull me up and into his arms. He hugged me tightly. "Thank you for letting me be a part of this," he said, although I wasn't quite sure if he was talking to me or God. "Are you finished?" he asked, breaking the hug and gesturing at my unfinished salad.

  I nodded and smiled, and picked up our baskets. "Come on, there's a park across the street. We can walk around for a little bit before I take you back to your car."

  We did just that.

  It wasn't a huge park. There were two playground structures and an open field that a soccer team was using for practice. There was a paved walking path circling the perimeter, and we went around it three or four times.

  The soccer team got us talking about sports. I told him I played softball and did ballet as a kid, but wasn't serious with either of them. He was more of an athlete. He said he played soccer during both high school and college. I joked that he should join the practicing team to prove his skills, but he just smiled and said he didn't want to put them to shame.

  Halloween had just passed, and he asked me what I dressed up as. I told him I went to school as Einstein, which made him ask me to show me a picture. I took out my phone and let him flip through a few photos we'd taken that day. Micah marveled at how good my costume was. It was actually pretty convincing. Trish helped me with it, and all the students went crazy over how much I looked like him. They even made me take a picture with my tongue out like the famous one of Einstein for the yearbook. I showed Micah that one too, and he cracked up, saying I was the coolest teacher ever.

  He had me laughing the entire time we walked. He was smart, and his quick wit and dry humor kept me on my toes. I appreciated him not making too big of a deal about me accepting Christ. It was a big deal to me, but for some reason it made me feel good that he assumed I could go on with life as usual. I guess I just assumed he would give me a long list of things I should and shouldn't do, and was relieved when that didn't happen.

  We walked slowly, and shared enjoyable, easy conversation the whole time. The longer we were together, the more I ached for physical contact. I was so drawn to him that I wanted to ask him to put his arm around my shoulder or something. Anything—even an accidental brush of the arms would have offered some relief, but it didn't happen.

  We walked, talked, glanced at each other, smiled, and laughed, but not once did he touch me. I probably shouldn't have been concerned about something like that on a night when my soul was eternally saved, but I couldn't help it. I felt like I was being drawn to him like a magnet.

  He asked me a lot about science and my teaching job at Roosevelt, and I asked him about the ins and outs of the concrete business. We strolled around that park for what must have been about an hour. It was probably the best hour of my life, but I knew I had to get home, and I told him so.

  "Are you up for some dessert?" he asked on our way back to his truck.

  "I wish I could. I have to get home to Roscoe, and I have some last minute planning to do for school tomorrow. Thank you, though, and thank you for dinner."

  "I want to take you on a real date sometime, if you're okay with that," he said.

  "What's a real date, exactly?"

  We climbed into his truck, and he regarded me from over the console with an irresistible smile. Had Micah Bennett just said he wanted to take me on a date? I felt like I was living in some alternate reality.

  "One where we plan it ahead of time, and I pick you up at your house. We can sit at a real restaurant and have someone take our order, and most importantly, there will be no promises of staying away from scientific research."

  "Oh really?" I asked.

  He started the engine and began driving. "Yeah, I'm sort of upset about making that stupid promise tonight, if you want to know the truth."

  I laughed. "I don't know how I feel about going out on a date with a Christian," I said.

  He glanced at me to find that I was wearing an expression of mock distaste, which made him laugh. "I guess I'll just have to go out with Gina, then," he said.

  "Awww, that was low," I said, laughing.

  "Why's it low?" he asked with a shrug, teasing me. "I was just randomly thinking of someone who'd be happy to go out on a date with me despite my beliefs."

  "Oh, and you just randomly thought of her," I said.

  He glanced at me to find that my eyebrows were raised in a look of challenge.

  "Are you jealous?" he asked.

  Of course I was jealous. I was jealous of any girl in the universe who could possibly stand in the way of me being with Micah. My heart was completely set on happily ever after with him, and every moment between now and then seemed somehow both crucial and wasted at the same time.

  "Does it mean I'm jealous if I'd much rather you take me on a date than her?" I asked, finally finding the nerve to say something halfway sincere. I cringed inwardly as I waiting for his response.

  "I don't think that classifies you as jealous," he said, "but I think somewhere in there you might have just agreed to a date."

  "I guess I did," I said.

  "What about Friday?"

  "This Friday?" I asked.

  "No, three Fridays from now—of course this Friday!"

  "I think that'll be good," I said.

  "Do you need to check your schedule and get back with me?" he asked in a teasing tone.

  "No…" I said, "I'm pretty sure I'm open this Friday."

  It only took us another minute to get back to the Happy House. He parked on the street right behind my car, put his truck in park, and looked at me.

  "I guess you need my number so you can get in touch with me if something comes up," I said. I got my phone out of my bag and got to the screen that prompted me to add a contact. I typed in the name M-i-c-a-h, trying to contain a smile the whole time. "Okay give me your number and I'll call you so you'll have mine."

  He recited his number and I pushed the call button.

  He nodded. "I hear it buzzing," he said, even though I didn’t hear anything.

  I stared at him for a few seconds before speaking. "Thanks again for everything tonight" I said. I could feel warmth rise to my cheeks at the sincere words that came out of my mouth.

  "Thank you," he said. "I had such a great time."

  I smiled. "Me too."

  "You better go," he said, "because the longer you're in here, the more tempted I am to break my promise about not making you work."

  I wanted to make him break that promise so bad
ly I could barely contain myself. I wanted nothing more than for Micah Bennett to put his mouth on mine again. I wanted it so badly I almost couldn't make words come out. I had to clear my throat before I could speak.

  "Maybe I'll feel like working Friday," I said, torturing myself for the sake of not being too eager. I smiled at him as I opened the door. I could tell by the look on his face that he was as tempted as I was, and that pleased me greatly.

  "Goodnight, Carly," he said.

  "Goodnight, Micah."

  I hopped out of the truck, giving him one last smile before I closed the door.

  I had my car door open and was just about to sit down when he yelled, "Carly wait!" I turned to see that he'd stepped out of his truck and was walking toward me. I took in his long, confident stride wondering if a more beautiful, masculine creature had ever been created.

  He smiled as he approached me, tossing his hands into the air as he got close. "I thought I was an honest man," he said. "I thought I could make a promise and keep it, but I was sitting there in my truck, watching you walk off, and I just couldn’t take it anymore." He paused. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know I said I wouldn’t kiss you tonight, but I'm not going to be able to keep that promise—I just can't do it."

  "You can't?" I asked, staring up at him breathless. He shook his head as he looked into my eyes, stepping closer.

  "Do you forgive me?" he asked.

  All I had to do was nod once and his hand came around the back of my head. His lips fell onto mine in another painfully gentle kiss. A rush of warmth coursed through my body as my heart raced wildly.

  "Carly?" he whispered with is lips still touching mine.

  "Huh?" I asked.

  He pulled back just far enough to focus on me. "Please tell me you think the experiment worked this time."

  I nodded.

  "Did you think it worked last time too?"

  I let the hint of a smile touch my mouth as I nodded again.

  "How about this time?" he asked. He used the hand on the back of my head to pull me towards him again, and I went willingly. He put his lips on mine again. It was chaste, but it had me weak in the knees.