“He left after ten years and got married. I thought it would kill my mother. My father was already dead by then, or it would have killed him. In my family, once you take your vows, you don't leave religious orders. To be honest, I was kind of disappointed in him myself. He's a great guy though, and I don't think he ever regretted it. He and his wife have six children, and they're very happy. So I guess that was his real vocation, not the Church.”
“Do you wish you had children?” Melanie asked wistfully. The life Maggie led seemed sad to her, far from her family, never married, working on the streets with strangers, and living in poverty all her life. But it seemed to suit Maggie to perfection. You could see it in her eyes. She was a happy, totally fulfilled woman, who was obviously content with her life.
“All the people I meet are my children. The ones I know on the streets and see year after year, the ones I help and get off the streets. And then there are special people like you, Melanie, who happen into my life and touch my heart. I'm so glad I met you.” She gave her a hug, as they put their conversation aside and went back to work, and Melanie returned the hug with obvious affection.
“I'm so happy I met you too. I want to be like you when I grow up,” she giggled.
“A nun? Oh, I don't think your mother would like that! There are no stars in the convent! It's supposed to be a life of humility and cheerful deprivation.”
“No, I mean helping people the way you do. I wish I could do something like that.”
“You can, if you want to. You don't have to be in a religious order to do it. All you have to do is roll your sleeves up and get to work. There are people in need everywhere around us, even among fortunate people. Money and success don't always make people happy.” It was a message for Melanie, and she knew it, and more importantly for her mother.
“I never have time to do volunteer work,” Melanie complained. “And my mother doesn't want me around people with diseases. She says if I get sick, I'll miss concert dates or tours.”
“Maybe one day you'll find time for both. Maybe when you're older.” And when her mother loosened her grip on her career, if she ever would. It sounded to Maggie as though Melanie's mother was living vicariously through her. She was living her dreams through her daughter. It was lucky for her Melanie was a star. The blue-eyed nun had a sixth sense for people, and she could sense that Melanie was her mother's hostage, and somewhere deep inside, even without knowing it, she was struggling to get free.
They got busy with Maggie's patients then. They saw an endless stream of injured people all day, most of them minor injuries that could be ministered to by a nurse and not a doctor. The others, in the triage system they were using at the field hospital, went to someone else. Melanie was a good little assistant, and Sister Maggie praised her often.
They took a lunch break together later that afternoon, and were sitting outside in the sunshine, eating turkey sandwiches that were surprisingly good. Some very decent cooks seemed to be volunteering for the cooking, and food was appearing from somewhere, donated in many cases by other cities, or even other states, being airlifted in, and often delivered by helicopter right on the Presidio grounds. Medical supplies, clothes, and bedding for the thousands of people living there now were airlifted in as well. It was like living in a war zone, and there were helicopters constantly whirring overhead, night and day. Many of the older people said it interfered with their sleep. The younger people didn't care and had gotten used to it. It was a symbol of the shocking experience they were living.
They had just finished their sandwiches, when Melanie noticed Everett walk by. Like so many others, he was still wearing the same black tux pants and white dress shirt he had had on the night the earthquake struck. He walked past them, without noticing them, with his camera around his neck, and his camera bag slung over his arm. Melanie called out to him, and he turned, and saw them with a look of surprise. He came over quickly, and sat down on the log where they were sitting.
“What are you two doing here? And together yet. How did that happen?”
“I'm working at the field hospital here,” Sister Maggie explained.
“And I'm her assistant. I volunteered when they moved us here from the church. I'm becoming a nurse,” Melanie beamed proudly.
“And a very fine one,” Maggie added. “What are you doing here, Everett? Taking pictures, or are you staying here too?” Maggie asked him with interest. She hadn't seen him since the morning after the quake, when he sauntered off to see what was happening in the city. She hadn't been home herself since then, if he had tried to find her, which she doubted.
“I may have to now. I've been staying at a shelter downtown, and they just had to close it. The building next to it is starting to lean badly, so they cleared us out, and suggested we come here. I thought I was going to be out of here by now, but there's no way. Nothing is leaving San Francisco, so we're all stuck here. There are worse fates,” he said to both women with a smile, “and I've gotten some great shots.” As he said it, he pointed his camera at both of them, and took a picture of the two women smiling in the sunshine. Both looked happy and relaxed, despite the circumstances they were in. But both were being productive and enjoying what they were doing. It showed on their faces and in their eyes. “I don't think anybody would believe this vision of Melanie Free, the world-famous superstar, sitting on a log in camouflage pants and flip-flops, working in a field hospital as a medical tech after an earthquake. This is going to be a historical shot.” And he had some great ones of Maggie from the first night. He could hardly wait to see them when he got back to L.A. And he was sure his editors would be thrilled with whatever shots he got out of the aftermath of the earthquake. And whatever they didn't use, he might be able to sell elsewhere. He might even win another prize. He knew instinctively that the material he had gotten had been great. The photos he had taken seemed historically important to him. This was a unique situation that hadn't happened in a hundred years, and maybe wouldn't for another hundred. He hoped not. But in spite of the enormous tremor, the city had withstood it surprisingly well, as had the people.
“What are you two up to now?” he inquired. “Going back to work, or taking some time off?” They had only been gone for half an hour when they saw him, and were about to go back.
“Back to work,” Maggie answered for them both. “What about you?”
“I thought I'd sign up for a cot. And maybe then I'll come in to see you. I might get some good shots of you at work, if your patients don't object.”
“You'll have to ask them,” Maggie said primly, always respectful of her patients, no matter who they were. And then Melanie suddenly remembered his jacket.
“I'm so sorry. It was a total mess, and I didn't think I'd see you again. I threw it away.”
Everett laughed at the apologetic look on her face. “Don't worry. It was rented. I'll tell them it was ripped off my back in the earthquake. They should give it to me without charge. I don't think they'd have wanted it back if I had returned it. Honestly, Melanie, it was no loss. Don't worry about it.” And then she remembered the coin as well, slipped her hand into her pants pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to him. It was his one-year sobriety chip, and he looked thrilled to have it back.
“Now that I do want back. It's my lucky coin!” He ran his fingers over it as though it were magic, and for him it was. He had missed going to meetings for the past two days, and having the chip back felt like a link to what had saved him more than a year before. He kissed it, and slipped it into the pocket of his pants, which were all that was left now of the rented suit. And the pants were too battered now to return too. He was going to throw them away when he got home. “Thank you for taking good care of my chip for me.” He missed his AA meetings to help cope with the stress, but he didn't want a drink. He was exhausted. It had been a very long and trying two days, and truly tragic for some.
Maggie and Melanie walked back to the field hospital then, and Everett went to sign up for a bed for that ni
ght. There were so many buildings in the Presidio to house people that there was no risk of their running out of room. It was an old military base that had been shut down years before, but all the structures were still intact. George Lucas had built his legendary studio there in the old hospital on the Presidio grounds.
“I'll catch up with you two later,” Everett promised. “I'll be back in a while.”
It was later that afternoon, in a brief lull, that Sarah Sloane showed up with both of her children and her Nepalese nanny. The baby had a fever and was coughing and holding one ear. She had brought her daughter with her too, because she said she didn't want to leave her at home. She didn't want to be away from them now for a minute, after the traumatic experience of Thursday night. If another quake hit, as everyone feared it might, she wanted to be with them. She had left Seth alone at home, in the same state of anguished desperation he had been in since Thursday night. It was only getting worse, and he knew there was no hope of banks opening or his being able to communicate with the outside world anytime soon, to cover what he'd done. His career, and maybe his life as it had been for several years, was over. And Sarah's too. In the meantime, she was worried about their baby. This was no time for him to get sick. She had gone to the emergency room of the hospital nearest them, but they were accepting only seriously injured people for treatment. They had referred her to the field hospital in the Presidio, so she had come in Parmani's car. Melanie had spotted her at the front desk, and told Maggie who she was. They approached Sarah together, and Maggie had the baby cooing and laughing in less than a minute, although he was still pulling at his ear. Sarah told her what was wrong. And he looked a little flushed.
“Let me find you a doctor,” Maggie promised, and disappeared, and a few minutes later she beckoned to Sarah, who had been talking to Melanie about the benefit and how fabulous her performance had been, and how shocking when the earthquake hit.
Melanie and Sarah, the little girl, and the nanny all followed Maggie to where the doctor was waiting to see them. As Sarah had feared, the baby had an ear infection. His fever had come down a little in the balmy May air, and the doctor said he had the beginnings of a red throat. He gave her an antibiotic that she said Oliver had taken before, and he gave Molly a lollipop and ruffled her hair. The doctor was very sweet with both of them, although he had been working since right after the earthquake on Thursday night, with almost no sleep. Everyone had been putting in an incredible number of hours, especially Maggie, and Melanie was right up there with her.
They were just leaving the cubicle where they'd seen the doctor, when Sarah saw Everett walk in. He looked as though he were trying to find someone, and Melanie and Maggie both waved at him. He came over in the familiar black lizard cowboy boots that were his prize possession. They had survived the rigors of the earthquake unharmed.
“What is this? A reunion of the benefit?” he teased Sarah. “That was quite a party you put on. A little dicey at the end of the evening, but up till then, I thought you did a terrific job.” He smiled at her and she thanked him, and as Maggie watched her, with her baby in her arms, she saw that Sarah looked upset. She had noticed it at first, and thought she was just worried about Oliver's fever and earache, but having been reassured, Maggie now wondered if it was something else. Her powers of observation were both accurate and acute.
Maggie suggested that the nanny hold the baby, and Molly stayed close beside her, while the nun asked Sarah to come and chat with her for a minute. They left Melanie and Everett talking animatedly, while Parmani kept track of the kids. She walked Sarah far enough away so the others wouldn't hear what they said.
“Are you all right?” Maggie asked her. “You look upset. Is there anything I can do to help?” She saw tears bulging in Sarah's eyes and was glad she had asked.
“No…I…really … I'm fine … well … actually …I have a problem, but there's nothing you can do.” She started to open up to her, and then knew she couldn't. It could be too dangerous for Seth if she did. She was still praying, unreasonably she knew, that no one would find out what he'd done. With sixty million dollars misdirected and illegally in his hands, it was impossible that his crime would go unnoticed, or unpunished. She felt sick every time she thought of it, and she looked it. “It's my husband …I can't go into it right now.” She wiped her eyes and looked gratefully at the nun. “Thank you for asking.”
“Well, you know where I am, for now anyway.” Maggie grabbed a pen and a piece of paper then, and wrote her cell phone number down. “Once we get cell phone service again, you can call me at that number. Until then, I'll be here. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone, just as a friend. I don't want to intrude, so you call me if you think I can do anything to help.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said gratefully. She remembered that Maggie was one of the nuns at the benefit. And just as Melanie and Everett had, Sarah thought she didn't look anything like a nun, particularly in jeans and pink Converse high-top sneakers. She looked very cute, and surprisingly young. But she had the eyes of a woman who had seen it all. There was nothing young about her eyes. “I'll call you,” Sarah promised, and a few minutes later they went back to the others. As they did, Sarah wiped her eyes. Everett had noticed something too, but said nothing. He just complimented her again on the benefit and the money they had raised. He said it had been a class act, especially with Melanie's help. He had something pleasant to say to everyone. He was an easygoing nice guy.
“I wish I could volunteer here,” Sarah added, impressed by the efficiency of the operation they were running.
“You need to be at home with your children,” Maggie answered. “They need you.” And she could sense that right now Sarah needed them. Whatever the problem with her husband was, it was obvious that Sarah was deeply upset.
“I don't think I'll ever leave them again,” Sarah said with a shudder. “I was crazed until I got home on Thursday night, but they were fine.” And the bump on Parmani's head had already gone down. She was staying with them now, as she had no way to get home. Her entire neighborhood was a shambles and had been cordoned off. They had driven by to check. And the police wouldn't let her into her apartment building, as part of the roof had fallen in.
All of the city's businesses and services were still shut down. The Financial District was closed and blocked off. Without electricity throughout the city, with no open stores, gas, or telephone service, it was impossible for anyone to work.
Sarah left a few minutes later with the nanny and her children. They got into Parmani's ancient car and drove off, after thanking Maggie for her help. She had given Maggie her phone number and address, and her cell phone, and she couldn't help wondering how long they'd be there, or if they'd lose their house. She hoped they'd be there for a while, and maybe Seth could strike a deal, worst case. Sarah had said goodbye to Everett and Melanie too when she left. She doubted that she'd ever see either of them again. Both were from L.A., and they were unlikely to meet again. Sarah had really liked Melanie, and her performance had been flawless, just as Everett had said. Everyone in the room would have agreed, in spite of the horrifying finale.
Maggie sent Melanie to get supplies after Sarah left, and she and Everett stood talking. Maggie knew the main supply warehouse where they were storing things was a fair distance away, so she wouldn't be back for a while. It hadn't been a ploy, she really did need the supplies. Particularly the surgical thread. All the doctors she had ever worked with had always told her she had an impeccably neat stitch. It came from years of doing needlework in the convent. When she was younger, it had been a nice thing to do at night when the nuns congregated after dinner and sat and talked. In the years since she'd been living alone in the apartment, she rarely did needlework, if ever. But she still had a tidy little stitch.
“She seems like a nice woman,” Everett said about Sarah. “I really thought it was an exceptionally terrific event.” He praised her, even though she had already left. And although she was far more traditional than the peop
le Everett usually hung out with, he really liked Sarah. There was something of substance and integrity about her that shone through her conservative exterior.
“It's funny how people's paths keep crossing, isn't it? Destiny is a wonderful thing,” Everett said. “I ran into you outside the Ritz, and followed you for an entire evening, even on the streets. And now here I am, I run into you in a shelter. And I met Melanie that night too and gave her my jacket. Then you and she meet here. And I find you both again, and the head of the benefit that brought us all together walks into the field hospital with her kid with an earache, and here we are again. Old home week. In a city the size of this one, it's a goddamn miracle if two people ever meet again, and we've done nothing but for the past few days. At least it's comforting to see familiar faces. I like that a lot.” He smiled at Maggie.
“So do I,” Maggie agreed. She met so many strangers in her life, now she particularly enjoyed seeing friends.
They continued to talk for a while, and eventually Melanie returned. She had the supplies with her that Maggie had wanted, and Melanie looked delighted. She was anxious to find ways to help and felt victorious that the supply officer had everything on Maggie's list, which had been long. He had given her all the medicines Maggie had asked for, he had bandages in the right sizes, both elastic and gauze, and had sent over a full box of tape.
“Sometimes I think you're more nurse than nun. You minister a lot to the wounded,” Everett commented, and she nodded, but didn't totally agree.
“I minister to the wounded of body and spririt,” Maggie said quietly. “And you only think I'm more of a nurse, because that probably seems more normal to you. But in truth, I'm more nun than anything else. Don't let the pink shoes fool you. I do that for fun. But being a nun is serious business, and it's the most important thing in my life. I think ‘discretion is the better part of valor,’ I've always liked that quote, although I have no idea who said it, but I think they were right. It makes people uncomfortable if I run around saying I'm a nun.”
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