Five minutes later, she was carrying a clipboard, signing people in, talking to men who had lived on the streets for years and reeked of booze, women who were heroin addicts and had no teeth, children who had gotten hurt and were there with their parents from the Marina and Pacific Heights. Young couples, old people, people who obviously had means, and others who were indigent. People of all races, ages, and sizes. It was a typical cross-section of the city and real life. Some were still wandering around in a state of shock and said their houses had fallen down, others who had broken or sprained ankles and legs were hobbling around. She saw a number of people with broken shoulders and arms. Melanie didn't stop for hours, not even to eat or sit down. She had never been as happy in her life or worked as hard. It was nearly midnight before things started to slow down, and she had been there for eight hours by then, without a break, and she didn't mind at all.
“Hey, blondie!” an old man shouted at her, and she stopped to hand him his cane and smiled at him. “What's a pretty girl like you doing here? You in the army?”
“Nope. I just borrowed the pants. What can I do for you, sir?”
“I need someone to help me to the bathroom. Can you find me a guy?”
“Sure.” She got one of the National Guard reserves and brought him to the man with the cane, and they set off toward the portable latrines set up in the rear. A moment later, she sat down for the first time all night, and gratefully accepted a bottle of water from a Red Cross volunteer handing them out.
“Thanks.” Melanie smiled gratefully. She was dying of thirst, but hadn't had time to do anything about it for hours. She hadn't eaten since noon, and wasn't even hungry. She was too tired. She was savoring the water before going back to work, when a tiny woman with red hair whizzed past her, in jeans, a sweatshirt, and pink Converse hightops. It was warm in the field hospital, and the sweatshirt was bright pink and said, “Jesus is coming. Look busy.” The woman wearing it had brilliant blue eyes that looked at Melanie, and then she broke into a broad smile.
“I loved your performance last night,” the woman in the pink sweatshirt whispered.
“You did? Were you there?” Obviously she had been if she said it. Melanie was touched. It seemed a million years since that performance and the earthquake that had struck before she finished. “Thank you. It was quite a night, wasn't it? Did you get out okay?” The redheaded woman looked unhurt, and she was carrying a tray of bandages, tape, and a pair of medical scissors. “Are you with the Red Cross?”
“No, I'm a nurse.” She looked more like a kid at camp in her pink shirt and high-top sneakers. She was also wearing a cross around her neck, and Melanie smiled at what her sweatshirt said. Her blue eyes looked electric, and she certainly seemed busy. “Are you Red Cross?” she inquired. She could use some help. She'd been sewing up minor cuts for hours and sending people back to other halls to sleep. They were trying to keep the hordes in the hospital hangar moving in and out at a rapid clip, and doing triage as best they could. The worst cases were being shipped out to hospitals with life support. But the field hospital was keeping the minor injuries from winding up in hospital emergency rooms, and leaving them free to deal with the seriously injured. So far the system was working.
“No, I was just here, so I thought I'd help out,” Melanie explained.
“Good girl. How are you about watching people get sewn up? Do you faint at the sight of blood?”
“Not yet,” Melanie said. She'd seen a lot of it since the night before, and so far hadn't been squeamish, although her friend Ashley was, and Jake, and her mother. But Melanie was fine.
“Good. You can come and help me then.” She led Melanie to the back of the hangar, where she had set up a small area for herself with a makeshift exam table and sterile supplies. People were in line, waiting to get sewn up, and within minutes she had Melanie wash her hands with surgical solution, and had her handing her supplies as she did careful stitches on her patients. Most of the injuries were fairly minor, with a few rare exceptions. And the little woman with the red hair never stopped. There was a lull around two A.M., when they both sat down for a bottle of water, and talked for a minute.
“I know your name,” the little elf with the red hair said with a grin. “I forgot to tell you mine. I'm Maggie. Sister Maggie,” she added.
“Sister? You're a nun?” Melanie looked astonished. It had never occurred to her that this little vision in pink with the flame-colored hair could be a nun. There was nothing to suggest it, except maybe the cross around her neck, but anyone could have worn that. “You sure don't look like a nun,” Melanie laughed. She had gone to Catholic school as a kid, and thought some of the nuns were cool, the young ones anyway. They all agreed that the old ones were mean, but she didn't say that to Maggie. There was nothing mean about her, she was all sunlight, smiles, and fun, and hard, hard work. Melanie thought she had a lovely way with people.
“I do too look like a nun,” Maggie insisted. “This is what nuns look like these days.”
“Not when I was in school,” Melanie said. “I love your sweatshirt.”
“Some kids I know gave it to me. I'm not sure the bishop would approve, but it makes people laugh. I figured today was a good time to wear it. People need some smiles right now. It sounds like there's been a huge amount of damage to the city, and a lot of homes lost, mostly to fire. Where do you live, Melanie?” Sister Maggie asked with interest as they both finished their water and got up.
“In L.A. With my mother.”
“That's nice.” Maggie approved. “With your success, you could be out on your own, or getting into a lot of trouble. Do you have a boyfriend?” Melanie smiled in answer and nodded.
“Yes, I do. He's here too. He's probably asleep in the hall they assigned us to. I brought a friend up for the performance, and my mom is here, some other people who work for me, and the guys in my band of course.”
“That sounds like quite a group. Is your boyfriend nice to you?” The bright blue eyes searched hers, and Melanie hesitated before she answered. Sister Maggie was interested in Melanie, she seemed like such a kind, bright girl, and there was nothing about her to suggest that she was famous. Melanie was unpretentious and unassuming to the point of being humble. Maggie loved that about her. She acted like any girl her age and not a star.
“Sometimes my boyfriend's nice to me,” Melanie answered her question. “He has his own issues. They get in the way at times.” Maggie read between the lines and figured he probably drank too much or used drugs. What surprised her more was that Melanie looked like she didn't, and had come to work in the hospital on her own, genuinely wanted to help and was truly useful, and sensible about what she did. She was totally down to earth.
“That's too bad,” Maggie commented about Jake, and then told Melanie she had worked long enough. She had been working for nearly eleven hours after almost no sleep the night before. She told her to go back to her hall and get some rest, or she'd be useless the next day. Maggie was going to sleep on a cot in an area of the hospital they'd set up for volunteers and medical personnel. They were planning to open a separate building to house them, but hadn't yet.
“Should I come back tomorrow?” Melanie asked hopefully. She had loved the time she'd spent there, and she felt genuinely useful, which made the time they had to spend waiting to go home more interesting and pass more quickly.
“Come on over, as soon as you wake up. You can have breakfast in the mess hall. I'll be here. You can come in whenever you want,” Sister Maggie said kindly.
“Thank you,” Melanie said politely, still surprised that she was a nun. “See you tomorrow, Sister.”
“Goodnight, Melanie,” Maggie smiled warmly. “Thank you for your help.” Melanie waved as she left, and Maggie watched her go. She was such a pretty girl, and Maggie wasn't sure why, but she had the feeling she was looking for something, that some important element was missing in her life. It was hard to believe with looks and a voice like that, and the success she had. But wh
atever she was looking for, Maggie hoped she'd find it.
Maggie went to check out then, and get some sleep herself, and as Melanie walked back to the hall where she had left the others, she was smiling. She had loved working with Maggie. She still couldn't believe the lively woman was a nun. Melanie couldn't help wishing she had a mother like that, full of compassion, warmth, and wisdom, instead of the one she had, who had always pushed her, and lived vicariously through her daughter. Melanie was well aware that her mother wanted to be a star herself, and thought she was because her daughter had made it and achieved stardom. It was a heavy burden for her sometimes, being her mother's dream, instead of having her own. Melanie wasn't even sure what her dreams were. All she knew was that for a few hours, more than she ever had on stage, she felt as though she'd found her dream that night on the heels of the San Francisco earthquake.
Chapter 5
Melanie was back at the field hospital by nine o'clock the next morning. She would have been there earlier, but she had stopped to listen to the announcement being made over the PA system in the main quad. Hundreds of people had stood around to hear about conditions throughout the city. The death toll was over a thousand by then, and they said it would be at least a week, if not more, before they had electricity again. They listed the areas that had been the most severely damaged, and they said that they doubted that cell phone service would return before at least ten more days. They said emergency supplies were being flown in from all over the country. The president had come in to see the ravaged city the day before, and then had flown back to Washington, promising federal aid, and commending San Franciscans for their courage and compassion toward each other. They told the temporary residents of the Presidio that a special shelter had been set up by the ASPCA where lost pets were being brought, in the hope of bringing pets and their owners together again. The announcement also said that translators were available in both Mandarin and Spanish, and the person making the announcement thanked everyone for their cooperation in obeying the rules of the temporary camp. They said over eighty thousand people were now living in the Presidio, and two more mess halls were opening that day. They promised to keep everyone informed of further developments as they occurred, and wished everyone a pleasant day.
When Melanie found Maggie at the field hospital, the little nun was complaining that the president had toured the Presidio by helicopter but hadn't visited the field hospital. The mayor had come through briefly the day before, and the governor was due to make a tour of the Presidio that afternoon. Plenty of press had been there as well. They were becoming a model city within one that had been badly shattered by the earthquake nearly two days before. Considering how hard they had been hit, the local authorities were impressed by how well organized they all were, and what good sports San Franciscans were. There was an atmosphere of kindness and compassion that prevailed everywhere in the camp, a sense of camaraderie like that among soldiers in a war zone.
“You're up bright and early,” Sister Maggie commented, when Melanie turned up. She looked young and beautiful, and clean, although she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. She had no others, but she had gotten up at seven to line up at the shower stalls. It had felt wonderful to wash her hair and take a hot shower. And she'd had oatmeal and dry toast in the mess hall.
Fortunately the generators were keeping the food cold. The medical personnel were worried about food poisoning and dysentery if they didn't. But so far their biggest problems were injuries, not diseases, although eventually that could become a problem too. “Did you sleep last night?” Maggie asked her. Sleeplessness was one of the key symptoms of trauma, and many of the people they were seeing said they hadn't slept in two days. A fleet of psychiatrists had volunteered to deal with trauma victims, and were set up in a separate hall. Maggie had sent many people over to see them, particularly the elderly and the very young, who were frightened and badly shaken.
She set Melanie to work doing intakes then, writing down the details, symptoms, and data about patients. There was no charge for what they were doing, no billing system, and all the administration and paperwork was being done by volunteers. Melanie was glad she was there. The night of the earthquake had been terrifying, but for the first time in her life, she felt as though she was doing something important instead of just hanging out backstage in theaters, recording studios, and singing. At least here, she was doing people some good. And Maggie was very pleased with her work.
Several other nuns and priests were also working at the Presidio, from a variety of orders and local churches. There were ministers who walked around, talking to people, and had set up offices where people could come for counseling. Clergy members of all denominations were visiting the injured and sick. Very few of them were identified by Roman collars or habits, or religious paraphernalia of any kind. They said who they were and readily talked to people as they wandered around. Some of them were even serving food in the mess hall. Maggie knew a lot of the priests and nuns. She seemed to know everyone. Melanie commented on it later that morning, when they took a break, and Maggie laughed.
“I've been around for a long time.”
“Do you like being a nun?” Melanie was curious about her. She thought she was the most interesting woman she'd ever met. In her nearly twenty years on earth, she had never met anyone with as much kindness, wisdom, depth, and compassion. She lived her beliefs and exemplified them, instead of talking them. And she had a gentleness and poise about her that seemed to touch everyone she met. One of the other workers at the field hospital said that Maggie had an amazing grace about her, and the expression made Melanie smile. She had always loved the hymn by that name and sang it often. From now on, she knew it would remind her of Maggie. It had been on the first CD Melanie ever made, and allowed her to really use her voice.
“I love being a nun,” Maggie answered. “I always have. I've never regretted it for a minute. It suits me perfectly,” she said, looking happy. “I love being married to God, the bride of Christ,” she added, which impressed her young friend. Melanie noticed then the thin white gold wedding band she wore, which Maggie said she had been given when she took her final vows ten years before. It had been a long wait for that ring, she said, and it symbolized the life and work she loved so much and was so proud of.
“It must be hard to be a nun,” Melanie commented with deep respect.
“It's hard to be anything in this life,” Maggie said wisely. “What you do isn't easy either.”
“Yes, it is,” Melanie disagreed. “It is for me. The singing is easy and what I love. That's why I do it. But concert tours are hard sometimes, because you travel a lot, and you have to work every day. We used to go on the road in a big bus, and we drove all day, and performed all night, with rehearsals as soon as we arrived. It's a lot easier now that we fly.” The good times had finally come with her enormous success.
“Does your mother always travel with you?” Maggie asked, curious about her life. She had said that her mother and several other people were with her in San Francisco. Maggie knew it was in the nature of her work to travel with an entourage, but she thought that the addition of her mother was unusual, even for a girl her age. She was nearly twenty.
“Yes, she does. She runs my life,” Melanie said with a sigh. “My mom always wanted to be a singer when she was young. She was a showgirl in Vegas, and she's pretty excited that things have gone well for me. A little too excited sometimes.” Melanie smiled. “She's always pushed me hard to do my best.”
“That's not a bad thing,” Sister Maggie commented, “as long as she doesn't push too hard. What do you think?”
“I think sometimes it's too much,” Melanie said honestly. “I'd like to make my own decisions. My mom always thinks she knows best.”
“And does she?”
“I don't know. I think she makes the decisions she would have made for herself. I'm not always sure they're what I want for me. She nearly died when I won the Grammy.” Melanie smiled, and Maggie's
eyes danced as she watched her.
“That must have been a big moment, the culmination of all your hard work. What an incredible honor.” She hardly knew the girl but was proud for her anyway.
“I gave it to my mother,” Melanie said softly. “I felt like she won it. I couldn't have done it without her.” But something about the way she said it made the wise nun wonder if that kind of stardom was what Melanie wanted for herself, or just to please her mother.
“It takes a lot of wisdom and courage to know what path we want to take, and what path we're taking to please others.” The way she said it made Melanie look pensive.
“Did your family want you to be a nun? Or were they upset?” Melanie's eyes were filled with questions.
“They were delighted. In my family, that was a big deal. They'd rather have their kids be priests or nuns than get married. Today, that sounds a little crazy. Twenty years ago, in Catholic families, parents always bragged about it. One of my brothers was a priest.”
“ ‘Was'?” Melanie questioned her, and Sister Maggie smiled.
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