A Treasury of Miracles for Friends (4 page)
R
ob Garrett could hardly believe how quickly his life had fallen apart.
One month, he and his wife and daughters were happy and healthy, living in a dreamy part of Thousand Oaks, California, where they were involved in their church and every day seemed better than the last.
Then, just after Christmas, the Garretts’ youngest daughter, six-year-old Alicia, came down with a series of unexplained fevers. Two weeks of doctor visits gave them nothing to go on, no diagnosis. About that time, Alicia began bruising. Nothing that seemed out of the ordinary at first, just a bruised knee or a mark on her arm. But when the bruising got worse, Rob and his wife took Alicia back to the doctor’s office.
This time the doctor ran a series of blood tests. The news was worse than anything they’d imagined.
Alicia had leukemia.
“I’m afraid it’s advancing quickly,” the doctor told them. “She’ll need a bone marrow transplant very soon.”
Rob could barely feel his heartbeat as he listened to the news. It wasn’t possible. His brown-eyed little girl couldn’t have gotten so sick in so short a time. He forced himself to concentrate. “How soon, doctor?”
“Within a month.” The doctor looked from Rob to his wife and back again. “We’ll test your family members first, but if there’s no match there, then I’d say it’s time for drastic measures.”
Rob was on his feet, anxious to find Alicia and take her into his arms, desperate to love away her sickness. He studied the doctor one last time. “Drastic measures?”
“Yes.” The doctor shoved his hands into the pockets of his white coat. “Time to pray for a miracle.”
In Fort Wayne, Indiana, some two thousand miles away, Peter Hickman could barely get over how well his life was going. He was the president of a major division of a nationally known biotech company and married to the woman of his dreams, with two children—a boy and a girl.
He wasn’t a praying man, but lately he’d taken to thanking God and asking for just one thing: That he might find the man who had made his wonderful life possible.
That man was Rob Garrett.
Thirteen years earlier Peter had been the least popular boy at St. Thomas High School in Detroit, Michigan. St. Thomas was a private school with fewer than a hundred students making up each grade level. But among those, Peter had the least number of friends. Back then he wore tortoise-shell glasses and his clothes hung on his small frame. He loved math and history classes, but when he tried to discuss algebraic theories with his classmates, they only laughed and looked the other way.
For the most part, Peter was used to living as an outcast on campus. But one girl—Maryanne Ellis—had captured his heart from the first day of school. She wasn’t too tall, but she had blonde hair halfway to her waist and blue eyes that caught the sun. Peter was sure she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. But he was just as sure she’d never notice him, never know he was alive.
Then one winter day in his American history class, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Peter turned around to see Rob Garrett, the star running back of the football team and easily the most popular and athletic boy on campus. Rob had never been purposefully mean to Peter like so many of the kids at St. Thomas, but he hadn’t noticed he was alive, either.
At least not until now.
“Hey, Hickman, I got a favor to ask.” Rob kept his head low so the teacher wouldn’t hear him talking. “Can I get your number so we can study once in a while?”
For a moment Peter thought Rob might be making some kind of joke. But almost as quickly he saw that the football star was serious. “Why me?”
“Because,” Rob hissed, again trying to avoid being noticed by the teacher, “you’re the smartest guy in school, and I need an A in this class.”
“An A?” It hadn’t occurred to Peter that jock kids like Rob might be interested in getting As. “What for?”
“Because I want a scholarship, okay?” Rob glanced at the teacher. “Will you help me or not?”
Peter agreed and slipped his phone number to Rob. That afternoon, Rob called and the two made plans to study three times a week at the school library. Peter wondered if Rob’s friends would tease him if the two of them spent time together, but Rob never said a word.
Instead, as the weeks passed and they continued their study time, Peter began to think of Rob as a friend. Sometimes after they’d finished studying they’d talk for a few minutes. And every once in a while Maryanne Ellis would walk past and Peter would feel himself blushing.
“You like her, huh?” Rob would grin and cast a quick look at Maryanne as she walked past. “She’s hot, Hickman. I don’t know if you’re her type.”
Peter would push up the frames of his glasses and swallow hard. “Yeah . . . she’s out of my league.”
One day when they’d finished that same exchange, Rob studied him for a long moment. “Hey, Hickman. Can’t you wear contact lenses instead of those . . .” Rob pointed at Peter’s glasses. “Those bifocal things?”
Peter hesitated. “I guess. But contacts are a lot of work. These glasses came with the eye exam.”
“I can tell.” Rob raised an eyebrow. “Look, Hickman . . .” He lowered his head and leaned himself over the table so no one would hear his response. “Maybe if you let me help you, we can get somewhere with Maryanne.”
“Really?” Peter was doubtful. The girl hung out with the most social kids on campus. If she actually knew Peter was alive, it was probably a bad thing.
Rob reached across the table and gave Peter a light punch in the shoulder. “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do.”
The same way Peter had outlined American history notes, Rob laid out a plan that would make even the lamest social misfit into someone worth noticing. First he took Peter to the mall for a set of contacts and a haircut. Next they picked up a few new pairs of jeans and three sweaters—looser and roomier, from the teen section of the store, not the business attire his mother usually picked up in the men’s department.
Finally, Rob taught Peter how to walk and stand with more confidence, relaxed and in control instead of hurried and nervous. Eye contact and a slower conversational style were the final touches. After three weeks of working together, Rob stood back and marveled.
“Peter, you look like a different guy.”
Peter had to agree. Though nothing had changed about his fascination with math or history, and though the school’s social circles still were less important than figuring out where to apply for college, his look had changed. Rob couldn’t wait to introduce him to Maryanne.
The winter dance was coming up, and Rob thought of another plan for Peter. A week later, when they were studying, he waited for Maryanne to pass by. This time, Rob called her over to the table and introduced Peter.
“Hi,” Maryanne’s smile was somewhat shy and surprised. “Are you new?”
Peter wasn’t sure what to say. He looked at Rob and grinned. “Sort of.”
After that, Rob flagged Maryanne down every day that week, and on Friday—as per the plan—Rob waited until Maryanne was sitting at their table and then he looked at his watch. “Shoot. I have a meeting with Coach West.”
He was gone before either Peter or Maryanne could say anything.
In the resulting quiet, Peter smiled at Maryanne and raised one of his shoulders in a casual manner. “Hey, Maryanne . . . I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
She was comfortable around him now, seemingly unaware of his past social limitations, and accepted him as one of Rob’s peers. She leaned her arms on the table and tilted her head to one side. “Okay, ask.”
Peter could hardly believe what he was about to say, but he said it anyway. “Would you go to the winter dance with me?”
A giggle as soft as windchimes played on her lips, but without hesitation she nodded. “Sure, Peter. I’d love to.”
Fourteen years later, Peter and Maryanne were happier than ever. But at least once a week he wondered about Rob Garrett. Wasn’t there something he could do to thank the guy for setting him up with Maryanne? Where was he, anyway, and what was he doing? Had he found as much happiness in life as Peter had? Many times, Peter tried to find his old friend. Rob had attended Rutgers University, but the school was no help in shedding light on where Rob had gone after that.
Peter was working at his computer late one night when a thought hit him. The Internet had several sites where people could connect with old classmates. Inspired by the sudden possibility, Peter did a search and found an extensive listing of names and schools. He typed in the correct information, and in a matter of minutes he found Rob’s name. The information listed was general, but it included his old friend’s e-mail address. Peter jotted a quick note, asking if the recipient was indeed the Rob Garrett from St. Thomas High School and stating that he’d like to talk to him, if possible.
The next day, in his online mailbox, Peter found a response from the address. He opened the mail and found a letter from Rob’s wife. Yes, Peter had reached the right person, but Rob was very busy. He rarely spent time on the computer. She included their phone number and address, located in Thousand Oaks, California.
At that last bit of information, Peter nearly jumped from his seat. “Maryanne!” he called out across the house and waited until she came down the hall and poked her head into his office.
“Yes?”
“How would you like to take a trip to California this weekend?”
Rob was just about at the end of his rope.
He and his wife and their oldest daughter, Tara, had all been tested to see if their blood types matched Alicia’s, but none of them did. Next the doctors checked the national donor bank, but that news was also bad. The chances of a match outside the family was one in ten thousand. The donor bank had nothing for their daughter, and Alicia’s cancer was advancing at an alarming rate.
That day as they drove home from the doctor’s office, Alicia fell asleep in the backseat of the car, and Rob and his wife prayed in whispered tones.
“We need a miracle, God. Find us a match for our little girl.” Rob’s voice cracked and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Please.”
When they pulled up in front of their house, a sedan was parked outside, and from what Rob could make out, a man was sitting in the driver’s seat. “Who’s that?” He narrowed his eyes and tried to make out the shape through his car’s tinted windows.
His wife knit her eyebrows together. “No one I recognize.”
As they parked their car and climbed out, the door of the sedan opened and a man stood up and waved at him. “Rob Garrett?”
Rob studied the man and found him vaguely familiar, but from thirty yards away he couldn’t place him. “Yes, how can I help you?”
“Rob, it’s me! Peter Hickman!”
“Peter Hickman?” Rob’s voice sounded tired, and his tone was only mildly surprised. Peter Hickman? The guy he’d befriended back at St. Thomas? The two hadn’t spoken since graduation. “What are you doing in these parts?”
The man walked closer until finally Rob saw that he was indeed Peter Hickman. He was more filled out now and a smile stretched from one side of his face to the other. When he was closer, he reached out and shook Rob’s hand. “I’ve wanted to find you for the past fourteen years, Rob. I can’t believe I’m really here.”
Rob wished he could appear more lively, more upbeat. But as his wife carried Alicia into the house, he felt like crying. How could he concentrate on this chance meeting with Peter Hickman when his little girl was dying?
Peter gushed on about how he and Maryanne had gotten married and how they had two children and how they couldn’t be happier. “So you see,” Peter slapped Rob on the back as the two headed for the house. “All these years I wanted to thank you. I kept wishing there was some way I could pay you back for what you did for me that year.”
Rob brushed off the notion with a partial smile. “Don’t worry about it, Peter.” He took a seat in the living room and watched as Peter took the chair opposite him. “I’m glad it worked out so well.”
Peter leaned back, his smile still full, eyes glowing. “How about you, Rob? How’re things with you?”
At first, Rob didn’t want to tell him. This was a chance meeting, after all, and the sooner Peter was gone, the sooner Rob could get back to worrying about Alicia. But in that moment, a Bible verse from a sermon earlier that week came to mind.
Where two or more are gathered, there I am also.
Rob made casual conversation as the Scripture played through his soul a few more times. Then finally, as though God himself were urging him to spill his heart, he froze midsentence. His hand came up to his face and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
“Rob? You okay?”
“No.” The word was lost in a stifled sob. “Not really.”
Peter slid to the edge of his chair and put his arm on Rob’s shoulder. “What is it, buddy? Tell me.”
And Rob told him everything.
When he was finished explaining about Alicia’s dire situation, Peter stood and reached for his car keys. “I’m going to the hospital right now to have them draw blood. You never know, Rob. I could be a match. I’d hate to never find out.”
The idea seemed almost ludicrous; no reason existed to believe Peter Hickman would be a blood match to his daughter. But it couldn’t hurt. And Rob didn’t have the energy to talk his old friend out of it.
Rob went with Peter to the hospital. Once his blood was drawn, Peter asked the nurse to reference his type to Alicia’s case.
“I live out of town,” he explained. “I’ll need the results as soon as possible.”
The nurse promised to phone the results in an hour, and Rob and Peter left the hospital. On the way home, they picked up a bucket of chicken, and they were just finishing dinner when the phone rang.
Telemarketers, Rob thought. He answered it on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Mr. Garrett?” The voice belonged to a woman, and it was brimming with excitement. “I have the results from Mr. Hickman’s blood test.”
“Yes?” Confusion welled up in Rob’s chest. What was her enthusiasm about?
“He’s a match, Mr. Garrett. A perfect match.”
Rob fell in slow motion to his knees and hung his head. Peter Hickman was a perfect match for Alicia? How was it possible?