Amazing Grace (13 page)

Melanie spent the day helping Maggie, as she had for the two days before. Injured people were still trickling in, and hospital emergency rooms around the city were still referring people to them. There was a huge airlift that afternoon, which brought them more medicines and food. The meals in the mess hall were plentiful, and there seemed to be an abundance of surprisingly decent, creative cooks. The owner and chef of one of the city's best restaurants was living in one of the hangars with his family, and he had taken charge of the main mess hall, much to everyone's delight. The meals were actually very good, although neither Melanie nor Maggie ever seemed to have time to eat. Instead of stopping for lunch, the two of them went out with most of the camp's doctors to greet the airlift and carry the supplies back inside.

Melanie was struggling to carry an enormous box, when a young man in torn jeans and a tattered sweater reached out to help just before she dropped it. It was marked fragile, and she was grateful for his help. He lifted it gently from her with a smile, and she thanked him, relieved that he had helped her avoid disaster. There were vials of insulin inside it, with syringes, for the diabetics in the camp, and apparently there were many. They had all registered at the hospital as soon as they arrived. A hospital in Washington State had sent them all they needed.

“Thanks,” Melanie said, out of breath. The box was huge. “I almost dropped it.”

“It's bigger than you are.” Her benefactor smiled. “I've seen you around the camp,” he said pleasantly as he walked toward the hospital with her, carrying the box. “You look familiar. Have we met before? I'm a senior at Berkeley, my major is engineering, specializing in underdeveloped countries. Do you go to Berkeley?” He knew he had seen her face before, and Melanie just smiled.

“No, I'm from L.A.,” she said vaguely, as they approached the field hospital. He was tall, blue-eyed, and as blond as she was. He looked healthy and young and wholesome. “I was just up here for one night,” she explained as he smiled at her, bowled over by how beautiful she was, even without combed hair, makeup, or clean clothes. They all looked like they'd been shipwrecked. He was wearing someone else's sneakers, after spending the night in the city at a friend's house, and running out in boxers and bare feet just before it collapsed. Fortunately, everyone living there had survived.

“I'm from Pasadena,” he countered. “I used to go to UCLA, but I transferred up here last year. I like it. Or at least I did till now.” He grinned. “But we have earthquakes in L.A. too.” He helped her bring the box inside, and Sister Maggie told him where to put it. By now he was interested in staying to talk to Melanie. She hadn't said anything about herself, and he couldn't help wondering where she went to college. “My name is Tom. Tom Jenkins.”

“I'm Melanie,” she said softly, without adding a last name. Maggie smiled as she walked away. It was obvious he had no idea who Melanie was, which she thought was nice for her. For once, someone was talking to her just like any other regular human being, and not because she was a star.

“I'm working in the mess hall,” he added. “You guys look pretty busy here.”

“We are,” Melanie said lightly as he helped her open the box.

“I guess you're going to be here for a while. We all are. I hear the tower at the airport fell over like a house of cards.”

“Yeah, I don't think we'll be leaving anytime soon.”

“We only had two weeks of classes left. I don't think we'll be going back. I don't think we'll be having graduation either. They'll have to mail us our diplomas. I was going to spend the summer here. I got a job with the city, but I guess that's pretty much out the window now too, although God knows, they're going to need engineers. But I'm going to head back to L.A. when I can.”

“Me too,” she said, as they began unloading the box. He seemed in no hurry to leave and go back to the mess hall. He was enjoying talking to her. She seemed gentle and shy, and like a really nice girl.

“Do you have medical training?” he asked with interest.

“Not till now. I'm getting it firsthand here.”

“She's an excellent medical tech,” Maggie vouched for her, as she came back to check out the contents of the box. Everything they'd been promised was there, and she was greatly relieved. They'd gotten an initial supply of insulin from the local hospitals and the military, but had been rapidly running out. “She'd make a terrific nurse,” Maggie added with a smile and then carried the contents of the box to where they were stocking supplies.

“My brother is in medical school. Syracuse,” he explained. He was lingering now, and Melanie looked at him with a long, slow smile.

“I'd love to go to nursing school,” she admitted to him. “My mother would kill me if I did. She has other plans.”

“Like what?” he was intrigued by her, and was still struck by the familiar face. In some ways, she looked like the proverbial girl next door, only better. And he had never lived next door to a girl who looked like her.

“It's complicated. She has a lot of dreams that I'm supposed to live up to for her. It's stupid mother-daughter stuff. I'm an only child, so her whole wish list is on me.” It was nice complaining to him, even though she didn't know him. He was sympathetic, and really listened to her. For once, she had the feeling that someone cared what she was thinking.

“My dad was desperate for me to be a lawyer. He put a lot of heat on me about it. He thought being an engineer was really dull, and he points out regularly that working in underdeveloped countries, I won't make any money. He has a point, but with an engineering degree, I can always switch my specialty later. I would have hated law school. He wanted a doctor and a lawyer in the family. My sister has a Ph.D. in physics, she teaches at MIT. My parents are nuts about education. But degrees don't make you a decent human being. I want to be more than just a man with an education. I want to make a difference in the world. My family is more interested in getting educated to make money.” His was obviously a family of highly educated people, and there was no way Melanie could explain to him that all her mother wanted was for her to be a star. Melanie still dreamed of going to college eventually, but with her recording schedule and concert tours, she never had time, and at this rate never would. She read a lot to make up for it, and was at least well informed on what went on in the world. The show business life had never seemed like quite enough to her. “I'd better get back to the mess hall,” he said finally. “I'm supposed to help make carrot soup. I'm a lousy cook, but so far no one's noticed.” He laughed easily, and said he hoped to see her around the camp again. She told him to come back if he got hurt, although she hoped he wouldn't, and with a wave as he walked away, he left. Sister Maggie wandered by and commented on their meeting with a smile.

“He's cute,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, as Melanie giggled like the teenager she was, and not a world-famous star.

“Yeah, he is. And nice. He's just graduating from Berkeley as an engineer. He's from Pasadena.” He was a far cry from Jake, with his slick looks and acting career, and frequent trips to rehab, although she had loved him for a while. But she had complained to Ashley recently that he was incredibly self-centered. She wasn't even convinced he was completely faithful. Tom looked like a totally decent, wholesome, nice guy. In fact, as she would have said to Ashley, he was really, really cute. Hot. A hunk. With brains. And a great smile.

“Maybe you'll see him sometime in L.A.,” Maggie said hopefully. She loved the notion of nice young people falling in love. She hadn't been impressed so far with Melanie's current boyfriend. He had only dropped by the hospital to see her once, said it smelled terrible, and went back to their hangar to lie around. He hadn't volunteered for any of the services that others were providing for him, and thought it was ridiculous for someone of Melanie's stature to be playing nurse. He expressed the same views as her mother, who was seriously annoyed by what Melanie was doing, and complained about it every night when Melanie got back and collapsed onto her cot.

Maggie and Melanie got busy then, and Tom was in the mess hall talking to the friend he'd been staying with the night the earthquake happened. His host on that fateful night was a senior at USF.

“I saw who you were talking to,” he said with a sly smile. “Aren't you the clever devil, picking her up.”

“Yeah,” Tom said, blushing, “she's cute. Nice too. She's from L.A.”

“No kidding.” His friend laughed at him, as they put vats of carrot soup on the enormous butane stove that had been supplied by the National Guard. “Where did you think she lived? Mars?” Tom had no idea why his friend was so amused by his brief details about her.

“What's that supposed to mean? She could have been from here.”

“Hell, don't you read any of the Hollywood gossip? Of course she lives in L.A. with a career like hers. Shit, man, she just won a Grammy.”

“She did?” Tom looked stunned as he stared at him. “Her name is Melanie …” And then he looked mortified as he realized what he'd done and who she was. “Oh, for chrissake, she must think I'm a total moron…I didn't recognize her. Oh my God …I just thought she was some nice blond kid about to drop a package. Nice ass, though,” he chuckled to his friend. But better than that, she seemed like a nice person, and had been totally unassuming and down to earth. Her comments about her mother's ambitions for her should have given it away. “She said she wished she could go to nursing school, and her mom won't let her.”

“Damn right. Not with the kind of money she makes singing. Shit, I wouldn't let her go to nursing school either if I was her mother. She must make millions from her records.” Tom looked annoyed then.

“So what? If she hates what she does. It's not all about money.”

“Yes, it is, when you're in her league,” the USF senior said practically. “She could sock a lot of it away, and do whatever she wants later. Although I can't see her as a nurse.”

“She seems to like what she's doing, and the volunteer she's working for said she's good at it. It must be nice for her being here with no one recognizing her.” And then he looked embarrassed again. “Or am I the only person on the planet who didn't know who she is?”

“I would guess you are. I heard she was here, at the camp. But I didn't see her myself until this morning, when you were talking to her. No doubt about it, she's hot. That was a score, man.” His friend congratulated him for his good taste and judgment.

“Yeah, right. She must think I'm the dumbest guy in the camp. And probably the only one who didn't know who she was.”

“She probably thought it was cute,” his friend reassured him.

“I told her she looked familiar and asked her if we'd met before,” he said groaning. “I thought maybe she's at Berkeley.”

“No,” his friend said with a broad grin. “Much better than that! Are you going to go back to see her?” He hoped so. He wanted to meet her himself. Just once, so he could say he had.

“I might. If I can get over feeling stupid.”

“Get over it. She's worth it. And besides, you're not going to get another chance like this to meet a big star.”

“She doesn't act like one. She's totally real,” Tom commented. It was one of the things he had liked about her, that she seemed so down to earth. And it didn't hurt either that she was smart and nice. And obviously a hard worker.

“So stop whining about how dumb you feel. Go see her again.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Tom said, sounding unconvinced, and then got busy stirring the soup. He wondered if she'd come to the mess hall for lunch.

Everett came back from his walk around Pacific Heights late that afternoon. He had taken shots of a woman being pulled out from under a house. She lost a leg, but was alive. It had been a very moving scene as they pulled her out, and even he had cried. It had been a very emotional few days, and in spite of his experience in war zones, he had seen a number of things at the camp that touched his heart. He was telling Maggie about it as they sat outside during her first break in hours. Melanie was inside handing out insulin and hypodermics to the people who'd come to pick them up after an announcement made over the PA system.

“You know,” he said, smiling at Maggie, “I'm going to be sorry to go back to L.A. I like it here.”

“I always have,” she said quietly. “I fell in love with the city when I came here from Chicago. I came out here to join a Carmelite order, and wound up in another order instead. I loved working with the poor on the streets.”

“Our very own Mother Teresa,” he teased, unaware that Maggie had been compared to the saintly nun many times. She had the same qualities of humility, energy, and bottomless compassion, all of which sprang from her faith and good nature. She seemed almost lit from within. “I think the Carmelites would have been too tame for me. Too much praying, and not enough hands-on work. I'm better suited to my order,” she said, looking peaceful, as they both sipped water. Once again the day was warm, as it had been, unseasonably so, since before the quake. San Francisco was never hot, but now it was. The lateafternoon sun felt good on their faces.

“Have you ever gotten fed up, or questioned your vocation?” he asked with interest. They were friends now, and he was fascinated by her.

“Why would I do that?” She looked stunned.

“Because most of us do that at some point, wonder what we're doing with our lives or if we chose the right path. I've done that a lot,” he admitted, and she nodded.

“You've made harder choices,” she said gently. “Getting married at eighteen, getting divorced, leaving your son, leaving Montana, taking on a job that was almost a vocation too, not a job. It meant sacrificing any kind of personal life. And then giving up the job, and giving up drinking. Those were all big decisions that must have been hard to make. My choices have always been easier than that. I go where I'm sent, and do as I'm told. Obedience. It makes life very simple.” She sounded serene and confident as she said it.

“Is it as simple as that? You don't ever disagree with your superiors, and want to do something your own way?”