Amazing Grace (12 page)

“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 people 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.”

“And why is that?” Everett asked her.

“I think people are afraid of nuns,” Maggie said practically. “That's why it's so great we no longer have to wear our habits. They always put people off.”

“I think they used to be really pretty. I was always impressed with nuns when I was younger. They were so beautiful, some of them anyway. You just don't see young nuns like that anymore. Maybe it's a good thing.”

“You could be right. People don't go in as early anymore. In my order, they took in two women in their forties last year, and I think one that was fifty and was a widow. Times have changed, but at least they know what they're doing when they go in now. In my day, a lot of people made mistakes, they went into the convent and shouldn't have. It's not an easy life,” she said honestly. “And it's a big adjustment, whatever your life was like before. Living in community is always a challenge. I have to admit, I miss it now. But the only time I'm in my apartment is when I sleep.” It was a small studio in a terrible neighborhood. He had only glimpsed the building from outside when he was there.

A flood of new patients came in after that, with minor problems, and Melanie and Maggie had to get back to work. Everett made a date to meet them in the mess hall that night, if they could get away. Neither of them had had dinner the night before. And as it turned out, they missed dinner again. An emergency came in, and Maggie needed Melanie's help to get the woman sewn up. Melanie was learning a lot from her, and she was still thinking about it that night when she went back to the building where the rest of her entourage was camping out. They were sitting around bored out of their minds, with nothing to do. Melanie had suggested to Jake and Ashley several times that they should volunteer for something too, as they might be stuck there for at least another week, according to the bulletins in the morning. The tower at the airport had been knocked flat, and there was no way they could leave. The airport was closed, and so were the roads.

“Why are you spending all that time in the hospital?” Janet complained. “You'll wind up catching something from someone.” Melanie shook her head and looked her mother in the eye.

“Mom, I think I want to be a nurse.” She was smiling as she said it, half teasing her mother, and half wanting to annoy her. But she was happy to help at the field hospital. She loved working with Maggie, and she was learning so many new things.

“Are you insane?” her mother said to her with a look and tone of outrage. “A nurse? After all I've done for your career? How dare you say something like that to me? You think I've worked my ass off to make you who you are, so you can throw it all away and empty bedpans?” Her mother looked panicked as much as hurt, at the very idea that Melanie might choose another career path, when she had stardom, and the world at her feet.

“I haven't emptied a bedpan yet,” Melanie said firmly.

“Believe me, you would. Don't ever say that to me again.”

Melanie said nothing in answer. She chatted with the rest of the group, traded jokes for a while with Ashley and Jake, and then still in her T-shirt and camouflage pants, she lay on her cot and fell asleep. She was utterly exhausted. And as she fell into a deep sleep, she had a dream that she ran away and joined the army. But as soon as she did, she discovered that the drill sergeant riding her night and day was her mother. Melanie remembered the dream in the morning, and wondered if it had been a nightmare, or her real life.

Chapter 6

On Sunday, the morning announcement at the Presidio told everyone that many people had been rescued all over the city, pulled out from where they were trapped, taken out of elevators downtown and from under collapsed houses, or pinned under structures that had fallen. The building codes since the quake of 1989 had been stricter, so there was less damage than expected, but the size of this most recent earthquake had been so enormous that there had been huge destruction nonetheless, and the known death toll had risen to over four thousand. And there were still many areas being explored. Emergency Services workers were searching for survivors among the rubble, and under the fallen overpasses leading to the freeway. It was only sixty hours since the earthquake had struck on Thursday night, and there was still hope of rescuing many people who had not been freed yet.

The news was both terrifying and encouraging all at once, and people looked somber as they walked away from the grassy area where the announcements were being made every day. Most of them headed for the mess hall afterward for breakfast. They had also been told that it would probably be several weeks before they could return to their homes. The bridges, freeways, airports, and many areas of the city were still not open. And there was no way of telling when the electricity would be on again, and even less when life might return to normal.

Everett was talking quietly to Sister Maggie when Melanie walked in, after breakfast with her mother, assistant, Ashley, Jake, and several members of the band. They were all getting restless and were anxious to get back to L.A., which obviously wasn't even remotely possible for the moment. They just had to sit tight and see what happened. There was word in the camp by then that Melanie Free was there. She had been spotted in the mess hall with her friends, and her mother had been foolishly bragging about her. But so far, no one in the hospital had paid much attention to her. Even when they recognized her, they smiled and moved on. It was easy to see that she was working hard as a volunteer. Pam had signed up at the camp's checkin desk as people continued to filter in, as food ran out in the city, and people came to the Presidio for shelter.

“Hi, kid,” Everett greeted her unceremoniously, and she grinned. She had gotten a new T-shirt from one of the donation tables, and a huge man's sweater with holes in it, which made her look like an orphan. She was still wearing the camouflage pants and flip-flops. Sister Maggie had changed clothes too. She had brought a few things in a bag with her, when she came to volunteer. The T-shirt she wore today said “Jesus is my homeboy,” and Everett laughed out loud when he saw it.

“I guess this is the modern-day version of a habit?” She was wearing red high-tops with it, and still looked like a counselor in training at summer camp. Her diminutive size contributed to the impression that she was years younger than she was. She could easily have passed for thirty. She was a dozen years older, and only six years younger than Everett, although he seemed a lifetime older. He seemed old enough to be her father. It was when one spoke to Maggie that one was aware of the seasoning of age, and the benefits of wisdom.

He went off to take photographs around the Presidio that day, and said he was going to walk into the Marina and Pacific Heights to see if anything was happening there. They were urging people to stay out of the Financial District and the downtown area as buildings were taller, more dangerous, and the damage far more extensive. The police were still afraid of heavy objects or broken pieces falling off buildings. It was easier to wander into the residential neighborhoods, although many of them had been blocked off by police and Emergency Services too. Helicopters were continuing to patrol the entire city, usually flying low, so you could even see the pilots’ faces. They landed from time to time at Crissy Field in the Presidio, and the pilots chatted with people who approached to ask further news of what was happening in the city, or outlying regions. Many of the people staying in the shelters at the Presidio actually lived in the East Bay, on the Peninsula, and Marin, and had no way of getting home for the moment with the bridges and freeways closed. Real news was scarce among them, and rumors rampant, of death, destruction, and carnage elsewhere in the city. It was always reassuring to hear from people who knew, and the helicopter pilots were the most reliable source of all.