By My Hands (24 page)

“I don’t wish to be rude,” Rachel commented coolly,
“but I’m not sure I can agree with that.”

“All right,” Martin’s blue eyes sparkled. “Adam
tells me that you are a surgeon. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you think you are a scientist?” Martin
continued.

“Yes, again.”

“Do you agree with me that the purpose of science is
to increase humankind’s knowledge about the world around it?”

Rachel nodded.

“Does your daily professional work add to medicine’s
body of knowledge?”

“Well,” Rachel said tentatively, “I spend a great
deal of time reviewing medical journals and papers. I also attend
conferences to increase my knowledge of surgical procedures. In
addition I . . .”

“Excuse me,” Martin interrupted. “But how is that
science?”

“It’s science because I’ve increased the body of
knowledge,” Rachel responded pointedly.

“You’ve increased
your
personal knowledge,
but you’ve added nothing to knowledge as a whole. Actually, all
you’ve done is master what others have discovered.”

Rachel desperately tried to think of something to
bolster her argument, but came up empty-handed.

“You see, most medical doctors are
technicians—highly skilled and highly trained, of course—but
technicians, nonetheless. I don’t say this to demean your
profession; on the contrary, I owe a great deal to your
vocation.”

Rachel looked at Adam who sat silently smiling.

“If you’re done torturing our guest with your
logic,” Anna St. James said, speaking for the first time, “I would
like to introduce myself.” Turning to Rachel she extended her hand.
“I’m Anna, Martin’s sister. Please don’t mind Martin; all of this
is a game to him.”

“Perhaps your brother should consider a career in
law,” Rachel said.

“Actually, several lawyers have utilized Martin’s
gift,” Anna said, handing a cup of coffee to Rachel. “Cream and
sugar?” Rachel shook her head no.

“Anna runs the house,” Martin said. “As I’ve said, I
have no head for such things.”

“God created your head for loftier things, Martin,”
Anna said as she poured three cups of coffee.

“Perhaps,” Martin replied. “But Adam and Rachel did
not come here to talk about me.” Turning to Adam he said, “On the
phone you said that you needed my help with a problem. I will do
whatever I can to aid you.”

“Thank you,” Adam’s tone turned serious. He related
all that he knew about the unknown Healer of Kingston Memorial
Hospital, David Lorayne’s healing and kidnapping, and Rachel’s
involvement with the hospital. He also told Martin of the other
hospitals that had had similar occurrences. He read from the paper
on which he had compiled the information from the newspaper
reports. With eyes closed, Martin listened intently.

When Adam had finished, no one spoke. Martin, eyes
still closed, sat motionless. Rachel watched him carefully,
wondering if he were asleep. After several minutes Martin broke the
silence. “Dr. Tremaine, do you have anything to offer?”

Rachel felt ill at ease. At first she had convinced
herself that she would not offer any information, but being
confronted with a direct question, she realized that she had
nothing to render. In many ways Adam knew more than she. She had
the medical charts, but they revealed nothing of substance—only
that very sick people were now very well.

“No,” she replied simply.

“Does that mean you have nothing of worth to offer,”
Martin asked pointedly, “or that you have information you wish to
harbor?”

Rachel wanted to hate him. Not only was he forcing
her to realize her ignorance, but to admit it publicly as well. “I
have nothing additional to offer.” It was the best answer she could
give.

“I don’t wish to be a rude host,” Martin said
suddenly as he jumped from the couch. “But this situation presents
some interesting challenges, and I wish to give it my full
attention". Anna will take care of you. It was a pleasure meeting
you, Dr. Tremaine. I’ll let you know when I have something for you.
Stop by again, Adam, and we’ll play chess; maybe I can win one for
a change.”

Without another word, Martin exited the room. “Would
you like to stay for lunch?” Anna asked. “I can fix some
salads.”

“Do you think you can actually get Martin to eat?”
Adam asked, laughing. “You’re always complaining that when he has
his mind on something he doesn’t eat properly.”

“He doesn’t.” Anna scowled. “It’s horrible. I’ve
seen him go three days without touching a morsel of food.” A smile
came to Anna’s face. “But I’ve finally found a way to make him
eat.”

“This I’ve got to hear.” Adam leaned forward on the
couch.

“Well, it’s really quite simple. I’m surprised that
I hadn’t thought of it before. All I do is turn on every television
and radio in the house. The noise drives him crazy. He figures it’s
worth sacrificing a little time to eat rather than have to put up
with all that ruckus.”

“What are you going to do when he finds a way of
turning all those things off from his think tank?”

“Think tank?” Rachel asked.

“It’s where Martin goes to work on a project,” Adam
responded. “I’ve been in there only once. It’s a small room with
only a desk and an easy chair. In there he can shut out the world
and give full attention to the problem he’s trying to solve.”

“I would have thought it would be filled with
computers,” Rachel commented.

“Martin has computers, but he doesn’t use them
often,” Anna said. “He says they’re terribly slow.”

They drank their coffee and made small talk until
Adam arose. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I need to find the
little preacher’s room.”

“Do you remember where it is?” Anna asked.

“Sure.”

After Adam had left the room, Rachel and Anna
chatted about Rachel’s work, and about the lovely view out the
window. The conversation died for a few moments as they watched a
man float by suspended from his brightly colored delta-wing hang
glider.

“They fly by all the time,” Anna said. “The Torrey
Pines glider port isn’t far from here.”

“Do you ever tire of looking at the ocean?” Rachel
asked.

“No, never. We’re not from a rich family. Actually
things had been pretty tight for us until Pastor Bridger came
along. He’s responsible for all this.”

“Adam?” Rachel was bewildered. “I don’t
understand.”

“Oh, he hasn’t told you about what he did for us? Of
course not. He’s too humble.” Anna poured more coffee into Rachel’s
cup. “We’re indebted to the pastor. If it weren’t for him, things
would be a lot different for us.”

“How so?” Rachel asked.

“I’m twenty years older than Martin and I’ve taken
care of him since our mother died. The funeral home asked us who
our minister was and we were at a loss. Ours was not a religious
family. I had been to church only a few times with friends; Martin
had never been. In fact, Martin has still never been to church.”
Anna smiled, then said, “You can keep him in your prayers.”

Although Rachel felt like saying that she kept no
prayers, she held her tongue and asked instead, “You’re not members
of Adam’s church?”

“Oh, I am now, but not Martin. He doesn’t see much
use for church. He’s a pure pragmatist, but we haven’t given up
hope.”

This struck Rachel as odd. She had assumed that Adam
would be interested only in those who shared his religious views.
Yet here he was a friend to someone who was antagonistic to those
beliefs.

“Anyway,” Anna said, “the funeral director
recommended Adam. We said fine. Adam called on the phone that
night. I was still pretty upset. I mean, I had to take care of
Martin, and the only income I had came from waiting on tables at a
local Denny’s. He listened as I told him all my woes. I told him
about Martin who had just decided he was quitting school. He said
he only went to school to make Mom happy and now she was gone. The
next day, Adam came by to visit and ask us some questions. You
know, questions about what we wanted in the funeral service. He
also wanted to see how we were doing. We were living in North Park
back then, in an apartment. Adam took a liking to Martin right
away, and that wasn’t easy to do. You may have noticed how blunt
Martin is. Back then he refused to talk to most people, and when he
did talk, he often said cruel things.

“You see, we thought Martin was a slow learner—you
know, educationally handicapped.” Anna laughed. “He was always in
trouble at school for refusing to pay attention or do his work. We
just didn’t think he was capable of schoolwork. Martin had always
stayed to himself. He didn’t speak until he was nearly six years
old, and then it was another three months before he made a complete
sentence. He never played with other kids, but would just sit in a
chair and stare out the window. Now we know that his mind was
thinking great things. Back then, however, we just thought he was
slow.”

“Didn’t your parents have him tested by the school
psychologist?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, but the results were confusing. His teachers
would promote him each year, probably so that they wouldn’t have
him back again. Anyway, Pastor Adam was sitting on our couch
talking to Martin and me just like you’re sitting there now. Only
Adam saw something in Martin, something no one else had seen. And I
think that Martin saw something in the pastor. The pastor looked
Martin right in the eye and said, ‘You play chess, don’t you?’

“I declare, Doctor, to this day I don’t know how
Pastor Adam knew that. You see, Martin had been playing chess since
he was five. Our daddy taught him. Within two weeks, Martin could
beat my dad. They used to play every day until Dad died—Martin was
only six then.”

Anna walked to the mantle over the fireplace and
picked up a black and white photo in a plain wood frame and brought
it to Rachel. “This is a picture of my father and Martin, taken
while they were playing chess. No one could beat Martin. Not that
he had many people to play with. But when he did play at school, or
when Mom and Dad had friends over, Martin would always win.”

“What did Martin do when Adam asked about the
chess?”

“Oh, it was something. Adam said, ‘You play chess,
don’t you?’ And Martin said back, ‘Yup.’ That’s all, just, ‘Yup.’ ”
Anna grinned and then continued. “Then Adam leaned back in the
chair, scratched his chin, and said, ‘I can beat you.’ Then . . .”
Anna laughed again and Rachel couldn’t help offering a sympathetic
smile. “Then Martin laughed. Doctor, I had never seen Martin laugh
before. When he was done laughing, Martin said, ‘No one ever beats
me.’ Then the pastor leaned forward and said, ‘I can beat you. In
fact, I can beat you almost every time we play. I’ll even put a bet
on it.’

“Well, that got Martin’s goat.”

Martin asked, “What kind of bet? Then the pastor
leaned back, scratched his chin some more, and then said, ‘If you
win, then I have to do whatever you ask. But if I win, then you
have to do whatever I ask.’ ”

“What did Martin do with that?”

Anna smiled again. “Martin may lack many things in
life, but pride isn’t one of them; since he was just sixteen years
old at the time, he was full of teenager pride. He couldn’t turn
Adam down. So they played. And do you know what? Adam beat him in
thirty minutes. It infuriated Martin, but Adam held him to the
bet.”

“What did Adam ask Martin to do?”

“I can answer that.” Anna and Rachel turned to see
Adam enter the room. “You shouldn’t be telling this story,
Anna.”

“Oh, why not?” Anna said. “You’re just too
humble.”

“Still, it makes me sound like too much of a hero. I
was just doing what I could.”

“Excuse me,” Rachel broke in. “Will someone tell me
what the bet was?”

Anna looked at Adam who just shrugged. Anna spoke
first, “He made Martin promise to give his best effort at school
for the next thirty days.”

“Martin was a man of his word,” Adam said. “He went
back to school, gave it his best, and amazed his teachers. They had
assumed what everyone else had assumed—that Martin was learning
disabled. I called the school and spoke to the principal and
Martin’s teachers. I asked them to give him something really hard
to do. When they did, he felt challenged. The rest is history.”

“There’s more than that,” Anna said. “Martin’s
ability to learn accelerated. He graduated high school one year
later, and college two years after that. But as smart as Martin is,
he doesn’t fit well in society. He would never be able to hold down
a nine-to-five job. So Pastor made some calls and people started
calling Martin for help— and paying too.”

Rachel looked at Adam with a puzzled expression.

“At the time we had an engineering consultant in the
church,” Adam said, in response to Rachel’s unspoken question. “He
consulted with various aerospace companies. He complained that he
was having trouble solving a problem for one of his clients. I
asked how much the problem was costing and he told me thousands of
dollars a day in delayed production. I suggested he contact Martin.
He was leery at first, so I suggested that he retain him based on
Martin’s ability to solve the problem. If he couldn’t solve it,
then Martin would get nothing. If he did come up with a solution,
then Martin would be paid 10 percent of the money saved during the
first month. Martin solved the problem in fifteen hours and a
business was born. Two. years later he made his first million.”

“Incredible,” Rachel said. “So that’s why he’s
willing to help you.”

“I like to think it’s because we’re friends,” Adam
said.

“And that’s what it is,” Anna said. “That’s exactly
the reason.” Then to Adam she asked, “Will you stay for lunch?”

“Actually, no. There’s a little restaurant I want
Dr. Tremaine to see. But thank you.” Adam stood to leave.