Amazing Grace (23 page)

“Why not?” he said stubbornly. “What if you change your mind one day and don't want to be a nun anymore?”

“What if I don't? I love being a nun. That's all I've ever been since I left nursing school. It was all I wanted as a kid. This is my dream, Everett. How can I give that up?”

“What if you trade it for something else? You could do the same kind of work if you left the convent. You could be a social worker, or nurse practitioner with the homeless.” He had thought about it from every angle.

“I do all that, and I'm a nun. You know how I feel about it.” He was scaring her, and she wanted him to stop before they said too much and she felt she couldn't see him again. She didn't want that to happen, and if he went too far, it could. She had to live by her vows. She was still a nun, whether he liked it or not.

“I guess I'll just have to keep coming up to visit you then, to bug you from time to time. Is that okay with you?” He tried to back off and smiled at her in the bright sunshine.

“I'd like that, as long as we don't do anything foolish,” she reminded him, relieved that he didn't press her further.

“And what would that be? Define
foolish
for me.” He was pushing her and she knew it, but she was a big girl and could take care of herself.

“It would be foolish if you or I forgot that I'm a nun. But we won't do that,” she said firmly. “Isn't that right, Mr. Allison?” she said, referring to the old Deborah Kerr‐ Robert Mitchum movie with a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Everett said, rolling his eyes. “In the end, I go back to the Marines, and you stay a nun, just like in the movie. Don't you know any movies where the nun leaves the convent?”

“I don't go to see those,” she said primly. “I go to the ones where the nun keeps her vows.”

“I hate those,” he said, teasing her. “They're so boring.”

“No, they're not. They're very noble.”

“I wish you weren't so noble, Maggie,” he said gently, “and so true to your vows.” He didn't dare say more, and she didn't answer. He was pushing. And she changed the subject.

They lay in the sun until the late afternoon, and could see building and reconstruction starting in the areas behind them. They walked back to the Presidio, as the air got cool, and she invited him to eat something in the mess hall before he left. She told him that Tom had gone back to Berkeley to close up his apartment. But many of the same faces were still there from before Everett left.

They both had soup, and he walked her back to her building after they ate, and she thanked him for the visit.

“I'll come up and see you again,” he promised. He had taken a few pictures of her that day, as she lay in the sun talking to him. Her eyes had been the same color as the sky.

“Take care of yourself,” she told him, as she had before. “I'll be praying for you.” He nodded and kissed her cheek. It was as soft as velvet. She had an ageless quality to her, and looked amazingly young, in her silly circus shirt.

She watched as he walked away, and saw him leave through the main gate. He had the familiar gait she had come to recognize, in his black lizard cowboy boots. He waved once, then turned toward Lombard to find a cab to take him back to the airport, and she went upstairs to her room to look at his photographs again. They were beautiful. He had an extraordinary talent. But more than that, there was something about his soul that drew her to him. She didn't want it to be so, but she was powerfully attracted to him, not just as a friend, but as a man. That had never happened to her, in all of her adult life, since she had entered the convent. He touched something in her that she had no idea had ever been in her, and maybe until Everett, it wasn't. But it troubled her deeply.

She closed the box of photographs and set it on the bed beside her. And then she lay down and closed her eyes. She didn't want this to be happening to her. She couldn't let herself fall in love with him. It was impossible. And she told herself it was not going to happen.

She lay there praying for a long time, before the other nuns came back to the room she shared with them. She had never prayed as fervently in her life, and all she kept saying to herself over and over again was “Please, God, don't let me love him.” All she could do was hope that God would hear her. She knew she could not let this happen, and she kept reminding herself that she belonged to God.

Chapter 13

Tom got to Pasadena and his family a week after Melanie left San Francisco, and he called her as soon as he arrived. He had packed up his apartment in two days, put everything in his van, which had been miraculously unharmed, and drove south. He could hardly wait to see Melanie again.

He spent his first evening at home with his parents and sister, who'd been worried sick about him during the earthquake. They wanted to hear all about it, and he had a very pleasant evening with them. He told his sister he was taking her to a concert soon, and then headed to Hollywood immediately after breakfast the next day. He mentioned as he left that he probably wouldn't be back until late that night. At least he hoped not. Melanie had invited him over to spend the day with her, and he was planning to take her out to dinner afterward. After having such easy access to her at the Presidio, he had missed her terribly once she was gone, and he wanted to spend all the time with her that he could now, particularly knowing she was leaving on tour in July. He had to get busy himself. It was obvious the job in San Francisco wasn't going to work out. In the aftermath of the earthquake, there would be long delays, and he had decided to look for a job in L.A.

Melanie was waiting for him when he arrived. She saw him drive up, and buzzed him in through the gate. He pulled up in his van, and she ran out to greet him with a huge smile. Pam noticed him when she glanced outside, and she smiled too when she saw them kissing. And then they disappeared into the house, as Melanie showed him around. They had a gym, a pool table in a playroom downstairs, and a wide-screen TV with comfortable chairs to watch movies, and a huge pool. Melanie had told him to bring a bathing suit. But the only thing he was interested in seeing was her. He put his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips, and time stood still for both of them.

“I missed you so much,” he said, smiling happily. “Camp was awful after you left. I kept hanging around and bugging Maggie. She said she really missed you too.”

“I have to call her. I miss her too … and I missed you,” Melanie whispered, and then they giggled as the cleaning service people came clattering down the stairs. She took him upstairs then to see her room. It looked almost like a child's room to him with the pink and white decor her mother had arranged. There were photographs of her with actors, actresses, and other singers, most of them very well known. There was a photograph of her receiving the Grammy, which her mother had framed for her. There were photographs of her favorite rappers and stars. He followed her back out, and down the back stairs to the kitchen, where they both helped themselves to sodas and then went outside to sit by the pool.

“How did the recording session go?” He was fascinated by what she did, without being unduly impressed by her stardom. He had gotten to know her as a normal person, and he liked it that way. He was relieved to see that she hadn't changed, and was the same adorable girl he'd met and fallen in love with in San Francisco. If anything, they were even more in love. She was wearing shorts, a tank top, and sandals instead of the flip-flops she'd worn in camp, but her appearance was the same. She was no more done up or starlike than she had been when he first met her. She was totally herself, as she sat next to him on a deck chair, and then at the edge of the pool dangling her feet. He still had a hard time believing that she was the world-famous star he knew she was. It meant nothing to him. And Melanie could sense that about him, just as she had in San Francisco. He was entirely genuine, and oblivious to her fame.

They were sitting at the pool, talking quietly. She was telling him about her recording session, when her mother drove into the driveway, and then stopped at the pool to see what her daughter was doing and with whom. She looked anything but pleased to see Tom. And her greeting wasn't warm.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly as Melanie looked embarrassed, and he stood up to shake her mother's hand. Janet looked unimpressed.

“I just got back to Pasadena yesterday,” he explained. “I thought I'd come and say hi.” Janet nodded and shot a look at Melanie. She hoped he wouldn't stay long. There was nothing about him that appealed to Janet as a suitable escort for her daughter. It didn't matter to Janet that he was well educated, came from a nice family, and would presumably have a decent job once he got situated in L.A., that he was a kind, compassionate person, and loved her daughter. A nice boy from Pasadena was of no interest to her, and she made it clear without spelling it out that she didn't approve of his being there to visit her. Two minutes after she'd arrived, Janet walked into the house and slammed the door. “I don't think she was too pleased to see me,” he said, looking embarrassed, and Melanie apologized for her mother, as she often did.

“She'd like it better if you were some half-baked movie star on drugs, as long as you're in the tabloids at least twice a week, and preferably stay out of jail. Unless it gets you really good press.” She laughed at her description of her mother, which he suspected was painfully accurate.

“I've never been in jail or the tabloids,” he said apologetically. “She must think I'm a real dud.”

“I don't,” Melanie said, as she sat close to him and looked into his eyes. Melanie liked everything about him so far, especially the fact that he wasn't part of any of the Hollywood nonsense. She had come to hate the problems she'd had with Jake. His drinking, going to rehab, winding up in the tabloids with him, and the time he'd punched someone out in a bar. Paparazzi had appeared on the scene in an instant, and he'd been taken away by the police while flashes from the photographers went off in her face. And even more than that, she hated what he had done with Ashley. She hadn't spoken to him since they got back, and didn't plan to again. In contrast, Tom was honorable, decent, wholesome, well behaved, and cared about her. “Want to go for a swim?” He nodded. He didn't care what he did, as long as it was with her. He was a regular, healthy twenty-two-yearold boy. In fact, nicer, smarter, and better-looking than most. He was someone with a future, Melanie could tell. Not the kind of future her mother wanted for her, but the kind Melanie wanted to be part of when she grew up, and even now. He was down to earth, and real, just as she was. There was nothing fake about him. He was as far from the Hollywood scene as you could get.

She showed him to the cabana at the end of the pool, and the room where he could change. He came out a minute later, wearing a Hawaiian-style bathing suit. He had gone surfing there at Easter with friends, in Kauai. Melanie went into the cabana after him, and came out in a pink bikini that showed off her dazzling figure. She had been working with her trainer again since she got back. It was part of her daily drill. As were two hours every day in the gym. She had been going to rehearsal every day too, getting ready for the concert in June. It was going to be at the Hollywood Bowl, and it was already sold out. It would have been anyway, but after the story about her in
Scoop
, about surviving the San Francisco earthquake, tickets had sold even faster than before. They were being sold by scalpers now for five thousand dollars a ticket. She had two, with backstage passes, reserved for him and his sister.

They swam together and kissed in the pool, and then drifted around on a large inflatable raft as they lay side by side in the sun. She had put tons of sunscreen on. She wasn't allowed to get a tan—it looked too dark in the lights on stage. Her mother preferred her pale. But it was nice lying on the raft with Tom. They lay in silence for a while just holding hands. It was all very innocent and friendly. She felt incredibly comfortable with him, just as she had when she spent time with him in the camp.

“The concert's going to be really cool,” she said when they talked about it. She told him about the special effects and the songs she was going to sing. He knew them all, and he told her again that his sister would go nuts. He said he hadn't told her yet whose concert it was, or that they'd be going backstage to visit her after the show.

When they got tired of lying in the sun, they went inside and made lunch. Janet was sitting in the kitchen, smoking, talking on the phone, and glancing at a gossip magazine. She was disappointed not to see Melanie in it. So as not to disturb her, they took their sandwiches outside, and sat at a table under an umbrella near the pool. Afterward they lay in a hammock together, and she told Tom in a whisper that she'd been trying to figure out how she could do volunteer work, like what she'd done at the Presidio. She wanted to do more with her life than just go to rehearsals and sing.

“Do you have any ideas?” he asked her in the same whisper.

“Nothing my mom would let me do.” They were co-conspirators as they talked in hushed tones, and then he kissed her again. The more he saw her, the crazier he was about her. He could hardly believe his luck, not because of who she was, but because she was such a sweet, unassuming girl, and fun to be with. “Sister Maggie told me about a priest who runs a Catholic mission. He goes to Mexico for a few months every year. I'd love to call him, but I don't think I could ever do that. I've got my tour, and my agent is lining up engagements till the end of the year. We'll be starting on next year soon.” She sounded disappointed as she said it. She was tired of traveling so much, and she wanted time to spend with him.

“Will you be away a lot?” He looked worried about it too. They had just found each other, and he wanted time to be with her. It was going to get complicated for him, too, once he found a job. They'd both be busy.

“I'm gone about four months a year. Sometimes five. Otherwise I just fly in and out, like I did for the benefit in San Francisco. I'm only gone a couple of nights for gigs like that.”