“You said you had a project that was similar to my thesis work,” I said to him.

“I do, in fact. It’s quite an amazing tale, one that isn’t known but to a select few. Do you believe in miracles, Dr. Reed?”

“From a scientific standpoint, I’m afraid I don’t. But from a spiritual standpoint, I believe in the possibility. Without possibility, we have no hope.”

Randall flashed me a bright smile. “Well… a miracle has happened for me, and I need to tell you the full story so you understand the opportunity being presented to you.”

My stomach started to sink, as I was starting to think that this guy may be a religious zealot and wanted me to go hunt down some relic in the rainforest. I had made two other expeditions into the jungle since graduating with my Ph.D. two and a half years ago, but I was by no means an expert on the Amazon.

“Just humor me,” he said with understanding as he looked at what must have been doubt and skepticism on my face.

“Okay,” I said carefully. “Tell me about your miracle.”

Leaning forward to put his teacup down on the table, he leaned back with a bright smile on his face. “This story starts thirty years ago… when I was a much younger man, and let’s just say, quite stupid in my youth. I was egotistical, wealthy, and felt I was untouchable.”

I smiled, because wasn’t that the way of all youth?

“One afternoon, after a day of sailing with my friends, I was driving home… quite drunk, when I ran off the road and flipped my car into a wide ditch that was swollen with rainwater. I was knocked unconscious, and the car filled up fast. I would have surely drowned had it not been for a young man who saw the accident and managed to drag me out before that could happen.”

Didn’t seem like much of a miracle to me, but definitely a world of a good luck for him.

“That man was named Jacob Easton. He had just graduated bible college and was on his way to an early evening study group. Needless to say, I owed this man my life. I offered him money, but he wouldn’t accept. I offered to buy him and his fiancée a house, but he politely declined. I offered him the world, and yet he wanted none of it. He only wanted a sincere thanks, which he got, and then he was fulfilled. He was convinced that God had put him on that road at that exact time of day so that he could save me.”

Afraid that this story was, indeed, going to turn into some type of request for me to find God in the middle of the jungle, I couldn’t help but saying, “I’m sorry, Randall, but the scientist in me doesn’t view that as a miracle. Maybe coincidence, maybe luck, but I’m not sure about miracle.”

“Ah, my dear Dr. Reed… that’s not the miracle. Let me continue on.”

I nodded my head at him, mentally calculating how much longer this meeting was going to take, because I’d heard nothing so far that would lead me to believe he had a project that I would be interested in.

“What developed over the next few years was an amazing friendship. While Jacob and I were very different—he was passionately following his call to the Lord, I was still a hedonist who was happy to make and spend my money. Still… we became very close, visiting each other and having long talks about God, life, and humanity.”

Randall trailed off, and his eyes were reflecting a deep fondness for the man he was telling me about.

“He was my very best friend,” Randall said sadly, and I didn’t miss the past tense of his reference.

Clearing his throat, his voice became softer. “At any rate, Jacob married his college sweetheart, Kristen, and they became missionaries. They worked mostly with indigenous tribes in Brazil but went on a trip to Africa once.”

Now my attention was perked, because he had said the words that put the conversation back on track.

Indigenous tribes.

“While they traveled in these countries for much of the year, whenever they came back to the States, they would come and spend a few weeks of vacation at my home with me. Our friendship grew even stronger. I was so honored when they got pregnant with their first child, and they asked me to be his godfather. You see… Jacob had been an orphan most of his life and bounced from foster home to foster home. Kristen’s family pretty much disowned her when she married a man that carried her away to the dangerous jungles.”

Randall took a moment to reach for his teacup, taking a tiny sip. When he set it back down, he told me, “While some missionaries are crazy enough to do their work while pregnant, Jacob wasn’t keen on that. They lived with me until their son Zacharias was born, and then they bought a tiny house not far from where I lived. They stayed in the U.S. for three years, Jacob working as a day laborer, Kristen as a stay-at-home mom. And me? Well, I continued to amass my fortune but we spent much of our free time together. I would invite the Easton family to lavish parties I would throw, and they would invite me to their tiny little home for Sunday dinners. I watched little Zach grow, and I loved that boy like he was my own.”

Randall stood abruptly from his chair and walked over to a huge cabinet against one wall. He opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a small box. When he returned, he chose to sit next to me on the couch.

Opening the box, he pulled out a stack of photos and started flipping through them.

“Here is Jacob, Kristen, and Zach when he was about a year old, I think.”

I took the photo and stared at it. Jacob had blond hair and an easy smile. Kristen was very lovely with long, dark brown hair and pale eyes, although I couldn’t tell the exact color. Zach was a cute kid… as far as kids go. I didn’t have much experience with them, but he had the same dark hair as his mother and chubby baby cheeks.