“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.
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 th
ey 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.
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