We meandered up and down the streets until we happened upon a small coffeehouse. We played chess at our table as we slurped blended mochas. I made up for my Skee-Ball loss, then we sat silently for a while, people-watching and flipping through year-old magazines that cluttered the small end tables between the couches along the wall.

“So, what’s the rest of your weekend look like?” I asked during a silent spell. “Lots of schoolwork?”

She chuckled as she stirred her drink with the straw. “Well, Friday was the due date for government essays, so I have thirty papers to read and critique tomorrow.”

I winced. “Sounds painful.”

“It can be. But other than that I don’t have anything else to do. I’ll go to church and hang out with Missy and the gang after the service.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “They’re doing a big summer concert thing and need more people to sing, so I think I might audition for that.”

“Hey, that’s cool,” I said noncommitally. “Are you nervous?”

She shook her head. “No. I sang with their college group for a while and I think the leader from that is helping coordinate it, so he’ll be able to vouch for my talent—or lack thereof, whatever the case may be.” She grinned and sipped her drink, looking out the window at a group of teenagers traipsing toward the beach in skimpy outfits and flip-flops.

This was my window of opportunity. A question about religion would be completely natural, fitting with the conversation. But I hadn’t thought long enough to know what question to ask: So, God—you’re really into that, aren’t you? What religion are you, anyway? So what made you think I had to be saved from anything, and why do you think your god can do it? None of them seemed like a segue into a comfortable conversation.

We both stared out the window, me trying to figure out a way to bring up that day in the hospital, and she oblivious to the mental jumping jacks I was going through. I took a breath and finally blurted, “So do you remember the day I saw you in the hospital?”

GRACE

I NEARLY CHOKED. It was the last thing I expected him to ask. Did I remember it? Did I remember staring into the face of a man known all over the Western world and telling him he needed God?

I could feel my face burning as I nodded. “Not something you forget,” I said, hoping my voice only sounded shaky to me. I jabbed at and stirred what was left of my slushy mocha and forced a grin. “Bet that’s not the line you usually hear from women when they meet you for the first time.”