On a beach on the Pacific, Jennie Kaiser of Chicago saw a palm frond that reminded her of a boat and thought about a little boy in Atlanta she didn't even know.

The Merrill Lynch director had just gone through a wrenching divorce. She was treating herself to a healing retreat at the elegant Four Seasons Hotel in Punta Mita, Mexico.

But the thought of Carter Martin tugged at her.

Carter was battling cancer through countless setbacks. For months, Carter's mother, Leigh Ann Martin, had been updating a Web site, telling of his struggles - losing a leg, losing his hair, losing part of his skull - and victories - a blood cell count high enough for him to have chemotherapy, being able to return to school.

For nearly two years, Kaiser, who had worked with Leigh Ann Martin's aunt, logged on to check on the little boy. She had never met Carter but was drawn to him by his courage and his mother's strength in taking to the keyboard each night to share his story.

As Kaiser walked along the beach last month, she thought about the pain and cruelty of childhood cancer. About courage in the face of unbearable pain. About the lessons she had learned from a 7-year-old boy.

Starting a Web site
Carter was diagnosed with Ewing's sarcoma, a type of bone cancer, on Jan. 17, 2003. Leigh Ann began a Web site for him, through the nonprofit group Caring Bridge, to keep friends and family posted on his progress. Her loving, detailed entries drew in hundreds of people almost daily.

At first, the entries were upbeat. Doctors were encouraging, even as Carter's left leg was amputated in April 2003.

"We have a child who has not complained about ANYTHING since day one (with the exception of being put under anesthesia), has a positive attitude, and an internal 'drive' in him that is like no other. Yes, he has lost his leg. I am, in no way, trying to say that it has been easy for him. But it has not hindered him. . .not his attitude, not his confidence, not his ability to get from point A to point B . . . on his own."

Carter was to receive 14 rounds of chemotherapy over a 10-month period.

It was not easy for his parents, and Leigh Ann chronicled those feelings, too. In April 2003:

"I was having a 'shaky day' yesterday when my mother called me. I told her that the reality of Carter's amputation is becoming clearer every day. Thank goodness only to me, and not to him yet. My mother quickly reminded me: CARTER MAY NOT HAVE HIS LEG, BUT WE HAVE CARTER.

"We also have his heart . . . we have his smile . . . we have his laughter . . . we have his life. I'll take that."

Despite the amputation, the doctors told the Martins the odds were good for Carter because his cancer had not spread.

In May 2003, Leigh Ann wrote:

"The results are in from the pathologists who did all the testing on Carter's tumor. . . . 100% 'KILL RATE' "!!!!!!!!!!

Carter finished chemotherapy in December 2003.

Heartfelt offerings
As Kaiser tried to relax on her Mexican vacation, she couldn't stop thinking of Carter and his family.

She decided to fashion a boat out of the palm frond she saw, in honor of Carter.

A hotel worker named Tony asked what she was doing. She told him the story of a little boy who played baseball with one leg and never once complained. Tears welled up in Tony's eyes.

Then Tony darted away. He came back with a yellow yo-yo, an ornament and other trinkets to put into the boat.

Other beachcombers became curious. One by one, they dropped their suntanning, their swimming and their shell-collecting to become boat makers for Carter.

A worker went into the hotel lobby and used a computer to access the boy's Web site and print out his picture.

Hotel workers ignored their tasks and looked for offerings in the boy's honor. They made crosses out of palm fronds. Their manager emerged from his office to see why his workers were ignoring their jobs.

When he heard, he nodded approvingly.

A yearning for school
After his chemotherapy, Carter enjoyed three weeks of good health. Then, fever and a bump on his head sent him to the hospital in January 2004. In February, Carter's cancer returned.

Doctors cut into his skull to remove a 2 1/2-inch tumor. More chemotherapy came.

As Carter fought doggedly, Leigh Ann's messages became more urgent but always stayed upbeat.

"Please keep praying for Carter's miracle," she ended nearly every message, and "thank you for one more day with Carter."

After Carter's relapse, his parents tried to do whatever they could to keep him comfortable and treat him to special things. He went to a restaurant and ate lobster. He swam with dolphins. He got a pool table when he could no longer go outside. Carter delighted in whipping everybody.

More than anything, though, Carter just wanted to go to school. Carter, who lived in a hilly Atlanta neighborhood near Henderson Mill Road, entered second grade at Providence Christian Academy in late August. He also left the care of Children's Healthcare of Atlanta. Doctors told him medicine could do nothing for him.

Carter did not despair.
"I'm not afraid to die, Mama," he said, Leigh Ann later recalled. "I don't want to, but I'm not afraid. I know I'm going to a glorious place."

At Sunday school, Carter had made a prayer box shaped like a cross. He and the other children were to put their prayer requests into it.

By then, cancer had spread to eight sites in Carter's body.

Carter had dozens of prayer requests for other people, his father, Scott, learned. Some were for his teachers, several for his parents. Some were for his older brother Candler, 9. Some were for children with cancer he knew from a camp he'd gone to that summer, and still others were for his four best friends.

Scott Martin found one crumpled piece of paper with two letters on it: "Me."

Carter was baptized Aug. 31. By that time, he was mostly confined to his bedroom - a room painted in his favorite color, red, and filled with stuffed animals, a laundry basket of baseball caps, and baseball memorabilia.

Once, when Carter saw his mother break down and cry, she recalled how he comforted her.

"Cancer's evil, Mama, but it can't beat love."

Making an impact
By the time Kaiser left for Mexico, the hopeful messages that she had seen for months from Leigh Ann Martin had stopped. Kaiser logged on and saw this on Sept. 4:

"Carter is still courageously fighting. . . . In my heart I beg for him to let go."

Kaiser felt heartsick.
She was not the only one. Over his 20-month battle, his Web page had drawn more than 360,000 page views. Many were folks like Kaiser who were friends of friends of the Martins. Others were total strangers. They came from nearly every state and several countries.

Already, Carter had had a profound impact on people's hearts. New York Mets pitcher Tom Glavine spent his summer not only trying to win baseball games but setting up a $1 million fund-raiser with major-league baseball for children's cancer. Atlanta attorney Kristin Connor, who had gone to Lakeside High School with Scott Martin, took a leave of absence from her job to raise money for childhood cancer research.

Carter inspired Ann Berger, a California schoolteacher, to go to a special weekly Saturday Mass to pray for cancer patients. James Peyton, a General Motors executive in Staten Island, N.Y., said Carter's courage "made me a little more religious."

David Weil, who owns a trucking firm in Savannah, said it became morning ritual for many at his office to log on and check in on Carter. Reading about Carter's courage humbled him, he said, and made him cherish time with his own children.

"He just took so much," Weil said. "And what Leigh Ann wrote about him. Who could do that? Who could sit there and write about their child so bravely, when you know her heart has got to be breaking? And she did it in such a personal way that led us into their pain and joy."

Said Kaiser: "It was the magic of seeing him through her eyes. The way she told so poignantly about his going to school, and the way she didn't have any walls around him. It was the most unselfish love story I ever heard."

Connected by love
On the seashore in Mexico, Kaiser's palm frond boat became full - the little boy's picture, the yo-yo, the prettiest shells the group could find, flowers.

Tony was determined, even though red flags indicated rough water, to take the boat out to sea. His manager again nodded approvingly as Tony got into a kayak that pitched and tossed into the Pacific.

The group stood together in silence.

And then, something magical happened. Kaiser was touched as a song emerged from the group. About 25 Mexican workers and American vacationers stood together at sunset on the Pacific coast with tears streaming down their faces, singing "Jesus Loves Me," connected somehow by the love of a brave little boy in Atlanta they didn't even know.

A measure of comfort
Carter died Sept. 12, on a beautifully clear afternoon.

The Martins said they feel overwhelmed at the outpouring of love for their young son. While they grieve, they find some measure of comfort in knowing that he might have made some real differences for other children by bringing to light the reality of childhood cancer.

"I kept praying for my miracle," Leigh Ann Martin said soon after Carter's death. "And I didn't realize I already had it. Carter was my miracle."

Knowing the boy, even from a distance, through his mother's chronicle of his life and death was something of a wonder for people like Kaiser, too. It was only after she had returned home from Mexico that Kaiser logged on to the Web site and learned of Carter's death.

"We had him for seven years, nine months and 23 days. God now has him forever."