"Jeremy, do you believe in miracles?" Sarah asked, glancing sideways at the young man.
He paused for a moment, thinking, then shook his shaggy head.
"No, Sarah. Miracles don't happen. This is a fine time to be asking."
The girl shrugged.
"Well, I believe in them. Want me to believe for you, too?" she smiled at him, her dimples flashing.
Jeremy didn't have time to answer. Attracted by the loud whispering, Mrs. Higgins, the vice-principal, was hurrying toward them. "Mr. Miller, Miss Bennett! That final exam isn't going to write itself! If you're finished, hand in your papers and leave the room."
The shamed pair ducked back into their tests, finishing up their English composition.
***
Then came graduation. A riverboat decked out in colorful balloons cruised until dawn, carrying the celebrating seniors. Jeremy and Sarah didn't join the general revelry. They were hidden away on the stern, sharing secret kisses behind a coil of heavy mooring ropes.
***
Eventually, their paths diverged. Sarah went off to study journalism at the state university, while Jeremy flew out to the West Coast to enter the Military Medical Academy. At first, there were phone calls and letters. But then, as each became absorbed in their own busy lives, the connection somehow snapped.
Thinking about this, Sarah hurried through the snow-covered park from the bus stop toward her apartment. She couldn't have explained why she was thinking of Jeremy today of all days. Perhaps it was the editorial assignment to interview a surgeon who had flown in to perform a complex operation at the local VA hospital. Or maybe it was because Jeremy's birthday was in two days. She slowed her pace, remembering the last time—nine years ago—when she had given him a silly plush heart with little arms, legs, and a cheeky grin.
She smiled sadly. Looking down at the path leading to her building, she stopped so abruptly she nearly tripped. Right at her feet lay a matted, furry lump. She tried to step around the obstacle, but the lump suddenly opened bright green eyes and let out a piteous meow. After hovering over the cat, whose back legs were twisted unnaturally, Sarah knelt and picked him up.
"What's wrong, little guy?"
The animal looked into her eyes with hope and dug his claws into her shoulders. His hind legs hung lifelessly, staining her new white coat with slush and dirt. Sarah tucked him against her chest. She hesitated for a second, then spun on her heels and ran back toward the main road. Within a minute, a taxi screeched to a halt beside her signaling figure.
"Where to?" the driver asked gruffly.
"The nearest 24-hour vet. Fast, please—I'll pay double," she said, trying to steady her trembling voice.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, gave a knowing nod, and floored it.
Inside the clean, brightly lit private veterinary clinic, Sarah bolted past the waiting room full of pets and their owners. Seeing a sign for "Surgery," she pushed through the swinging glass doors and stopped at the threshold.
"Doctor, please help!"
A young man in a surgical mask, sitting at a stainless-steel table, raised surprised eyes toward her.
"Nancy, get this little guy into a recovery crate," he said, carefully handing a tiny, limp rabbit to a nurse. "Watch him as he comes out of the anesthesia."
"What have we got here?" He spread a fresh paper liner over the table and nodded. "Lay him down."
Sarah watched the vet as he worked over the cat. There was something hauntingly familiar about his eyes, his hands, and the way he moved. Something from a long time ago—from her early youth.
"Jeremy?" she whispered.
The doctor looked up from the metal table where the large tabby cat lay motionless. He smiled. "You recognized me?"
"Jeremy!" she nearly screamed.
He winced.
"Yeah, it's me. Don't shout, you'll spook him," he gestured toward his patient.
"Oh, Jeremy!" Sarah couldn't pull herself together. The joy of seeing her high school sweetheart sent bubbles of adrenaline through her veins. "I'm so happy to see you! Where did you disappear to?"
His expression darkened.
"Long story, Sarah. Not one you need to hear. Let's focus on your find here. When did you say you found him?"
Sarah was slightly taken aback by the cold reception.
"Just now. He crawled out of the bushes right in front of me. I didn't realize what was happening at first until I looked closer. And once I saw..."
Sarah choked back a sob and looked hopefully at the doctor as he examined a fresh X-ray.
"Jeremy, is there really nothing that can be done? Isn't there even a single chance? The tiniest one?"
The doctor shook his head grimly.
"A tiny one, you say? There's a tiny one, sure. It's called a miracle. Do you still believe in those?"
She nodded fervently. "I do!"
"Well, if you believe, then here."
Jeremy wrapped the unresisting tabby in a blanket. He handed the soft bundle to her and began writing out the necessary instructions for a spinal injury patient. Finishing the neat rows of text on the medical form, he stamped it and handed the paper over with a sad smile.
"Here you go, believer. But you know, Sarah... miracles don't exist in the real world. They just don't."
She was heading dejectedly toward the door when the harsh, metallic scrape of wheels cutting through the silence made her flinch. Sarah spun around.
"Jeremy? You..."
She stared in shock at the wheelchair she hadn't noticed behind the exam table. He gave a resigned nod.
"Paralyzed, Sarah," he said, finishing the word that had stuck in her throat. Then he sharply turned the large wheels and disappeared behind a partition at the back of the office.
"Please, just go," came his voice from behind the wall. Stunned, she wandered out to the exit.
***
"Paralyzed... paralyzed... paralyzed," Sarah repeated like a mantra as she walked down the street five minutes later. "Miracles don't happen! Paralyzed, Sarah," Jeremy's words thundered in her ears like a bell.
"I'll show you they happen!" she snapped, stomping her foot.
Startled passersby swerved away from the crying girl standing in the middle of the sidewalk, clutching a gray tabby cat wrapped in a blanket.
"Miracles do happen, Jeremy! I'm going to prove it to both of you!" Sarah kissed the bewildered animal on its cold nose and marched toward the bus stop with a determined stride.
***
Sarah had no doubt that Jeremy—unlike the stray she'd named "Scooter"—didn't want her pity. She was also certain he would flatly refuse her help. But first love is a stubborn thing. What can truly stop it?
Nothing could stop Sarah. It took exactly one week for the fortress named Jeremy to fall. She stormed his workplace, she called his phone until it was practically glowing red—all under the convenient guise of the tabby cat. One minute she couldn't manage the physical therapy exercises, the next she couldn't get the IV drips right.
In short, the "savior" was doing everything wrong, and she absolutely couldn't manage without a professional's help. Jeremy scolded her, he tried to reason with her, but it was no use.
Finally, a week later, he gave a heavy sigh and surrendered to the victor's mercy. That was all Sarah needed. He moved into her tenth-floor apartment; after all, he couldn't just leave a "helpless" amateur to fend for herself. The building was new, with a proper ramp and a wide elevator. Plus, it was closer to the clinic—he just had to roll across the park instead of struggling with buses.
They lived as friends—each with their own room—until the cat recovered. Sometimes they went out for rolls in the park together. A young neighbor in the building would smirk at the pair, unable to understand why a girl in her prime would take in a man in a wheelchair.
One evening, Sarah came home from work with a huge bag from the grocery store. She set out a spread of good food and a bottle of red wine.
"I got a bonus today for that interview with the military surgeon," she smiled, setting the table.
Jeremy lowered his head and started to wheel himself back to his room. But he clearly didn't know his friend well enough. Sarah finished the table and physically wheeled him back for dinner. After a couple of glasses of wine and a good steak, he finally yielded to her questions and told her how he'd lost the use of his legs.
"I was on a tour of duty—don't ask where. We'd set up a field hospital. First, we heard shots. Then the surgical unit took a direct hit," he said, looking down. "That was the end of my military career. But I'm a surgeon; I want to work. And in vet med, you don't really need your legs," he added with a bitter smile.
Sarah walked over and hugged him gently.
"I don't really need your legs either," she whispered, kissing the top of his head. "I just need you."
***
The days began to fly by. One, two, ten. Sarah learned how to do the feline massages properly. After her sessions, the tabby even started twitching his "lifeless" paws. He'd yell at Sarah in his own cat language, telling her exactly what he thought of it, and then those legs would kick. Jeremy was stunned—he said it shouldn't be possible. But Sarah just gave him a sly look and kept at it while the cat grumbled.
Only one thing hurt Sarah. It cut her to the quick: Jeremy wouldn't let her anywhere near his legs. She tried everything. She suggested specialists, left medical journals lying around, and found specific physical therapy routines for spinal cord injuries. But he would only scowl and repeat the same thing:
"Miracles don't happen, Sarah. And since they don't, there's no point in trying. Just accept it."
So Sarah cried into her pillow at night. Quiet, bitter tears. Scooter, annoyed by his evening physical therapy, would crawl to the bed and stare intently into her tear-streaked eyes. He watched her for one day, then two... and on the third, hearing her sobs, he pulled himself up onto the bed using his front paws, crawled right to her face, and gave her such a look that Sarah stopped crying—she almost stopped breathing.
Then, something unprecedented happened. The cat crawled over to the legs of the sleeping Jeremy, purred like a diesel engine, and began kneading through the blanket with his claws. He worked those unfeeling legs for a long time, like a professional therapist. Dawn was breaking outside, and the tabby cat still hadn't stopped. Only the sound of the alarm clock ended his session.
Jeremy woke up then and looked questioningly at Sarah, who was staring at him with wide eyes. Scooter finally settled down. He scurried off the bed, tucked his back legs under him, and fell asleep right in the middle of the plush rug.
***
Months rolled by. By day, Sarah was at the newsroom and Jeremy was at the clinic. In the evenings, she treated the cat under Jeremy's supervision and spoiled them both with treats. At night, Scooter would stomp all over Jeremy's legs, his intricate dance growing faster and more vigorous every time.
Until one day, a terrifying thing happened.
Sarah had decided to wash the windows. She had opened the panes wide. Jeremy had placed a basin of water on the table by the window but realized he'd used cold water. You can't get things clean with just cold water, right? So Sarah went to the bathroom with a pitcher. When she came back out, she froze in horror, splashing the water all over the floor at her feet.
The "paralyzed" cat had climbed up the curtain onto the windowsill. The rascal was sitting there in a very strange way—up on his hind legs. There were maybe two inches between him and a ten-story drop. Jeremy was reaching for him, but he couldn't reach across the table without standing up from his wheelchair. Sarah, at the other end of the room, had no hope of reaching them in time.
The cat seemed to be leaning his striped face toward the edge on purpose. He leaned out, his eyes flashing at Jeremy as if to say, "Look, Dad, I'm falling. I'm really going to fall. Unless you do something..."
Jeremy called out to him, coaxing him, but the cat seemed to be teasing. He spread his whiskers, bristled his fur, and made a sudden lunge toward the open air...
Sarah's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes snapped shut, and a scream caught in her chest so hard it felt like it would break her ribs. She slid to the floor, her hands fumbling against the wall, and began to sob aloud.
"Sarah! Sarah! Honey, look!"
Jeremy's voice broke through Sarah's grief like a light through fog. When the words finally registered, she froze in shock.
"Jeremy?"
Sarah stared at the man standing by the window. "Jeremy!"
Her eyes darted in amazement from the overturned wheelchair to Jeremy, who was standing unsteadily on his own two feet. Then she looked at the tabby cat, who was purring contentedly, nestled against the man's chest. Sarah had already mentally buried that cat, yet there he was, squinting his green eyes and looking at her with total satisfaction. And—if you could believe it—he was kneading Jeremy's arms with back legs that, only yesterday, had seemed paralyzed.
Sarah stood up unsteadily. She took a step toward the pair by the window. Then she stopped and started to laugh. A bright, happy laugh—the kind that leads to hiccups and tears.
She lunged forward, running to Jeremy, who looked just as stunned as she was. She threw her arms around both him and the striped provocateur pressed to his chest, kissing them both anywhere her lips could land.
"Jeremy," she whispered, "do you believe in miracles now?"
The young man let the cat down and held her close.
"I do. I believe in you, you stubborn girl. You're my miracle."
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