Danielle Steel - Amazing Grace

“It is simple, Everett,” she said gently. “I just get my directions from the Father, and do whatever I'm told, what seems right at the time. I'm here to serve, not to run things, or tell anyone else how to live. That's not my job.”

“It's not mine either,” he said slowly, “but I have strong opinions about most things. Don't you wish you had a home of your own, a family, a husband, kids?” She shook her head.

“I've never really thought about it. I never thought that was for me. If I were married and had children, I would only be caring for them. This way I can take care of so many more.” She seemed totally content.

“And what about you? Don't you want more than that? For yourself?”

“No.” She smiled at him honestly. “I don't. My life is perfect as it is, and I love it. That's what they mean by a vocation. I was called to do this, and meant to. It's like being chosen for a special purpose. It's an honor. I know you see it that way, but it doesn't feel like a sacrifice to me. I didn't give anything up. I got so much more than I ever dreamed or wanted. I couldn't ask for more.”

“You're lucky,” he said sadly for a minute. It was obvious to him that she wanted nothing for herself, had no needs she allowed herself to think about, no desire to advance herself or acquire anything. She was completely happy and fulfilled giving her life to God. “I always want things I've never had, wondering what they might be like. Sharing my life with someone, having a family and kids I could have watched grow up, instead of the one I never knew. Just someone to enjoy my life with. Past a certain age, it's not fun doing everything alone. It feels selfish and empty. If you don't share it all with someone you love, what's the point? And then what, you die alone? Somehow I never had time to do any of that. I was too busy covering war zones. Or maybe I was too scared of that kind of commitment, after getting roped into marriage as a kid. It was less scary getting shot at than staying married.” He sounded depressed as he said it, and she gently touched his arm.

“You should try to find your son,” she said softly. “Maybe he needs you, Everett. You could be a great gift to him. And he might fill a void for you.” She could see that he was lonely, and rather than looking forward to the empty future he saw before him, she thought he should double back, at least for a while, and find his son.

“Maybe so,” he said, thinking about it, and then he changed the subject. There was something about looking up his boy that scared him. It was just too damn hard. That had all been a long time ago, and Chad probably hated him for abandoning him and losing touch. At the time Everett had been only twenty-one himself, and all that responsibility had been too much for him. So he took off, and drank for the next twenty-six years. He had sent money to support his son until he turned eighteen, but that had ended a dozen years before. “I miss my meetings,” he said then as he sat there. “I always feel like shit when I don't get to AA. I try to go twice a day. Sometimes more.” And he hadn't been to any in three days. There were none in the destroyed city, and he hadn't done anything about organizing an AA meeting in the camp.

“I think you should start one here,” she encouraged him. “We could be here for another week or more. That's a long time for you to go without a meeting, and everyone else here who is missing their meeting too. With this many people in one place, I'll bet you'd get an amazing response.”

“Maybe I will,” he said, smiling at her. She always made him feel better. She was a remarkable person in every way. “I think I love you, Maggie, in a nice way,” he said comfortably. “I've never known anyone like you. You're like the sister I never had, and wish I did.”

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, smiling up at him, and then stood up. “You still remind me a little of one of my brothers. The one who was a priest. I really think you should go into the priesthood,” she teased him. “You'd have a lot to share. And think of all the lurid confessions you'd hear!”

“Not even for that!” Everett said, rolling his eyes. He left her at the hospital then, went to see one of the Red Cross volunteers in charge of the administration of the camp, and then went back to his hall to make a sign. “Friends of Bill W.” The members of AA would know what it meant. It was a code that signified an AA meeting, using the name of its founder. In the warm weather, they could even hold the meeting outside, a little off the beaten path. There was a small peaceful grove he had discovered while walking around the camp. It was the perfect spot. The camp administrator had promised to announce it the following morning over the PA system. The earthquake had brought them all there, thousands of them, each with their own problems and lives. Now they were becoming a city within a city, all their own. Once again, Maggie had been right. He felt better already after deciding to organize an AA meeting at the camp. And then he thought of Maggie again, and the positive influence she had on him. In his eyes, she wasn't just a woman or a nun, she was magic.

Chapter 7

Tom went back to see Melanie at the hospital the next day, looking sheepish. He caught sight of her as she was heading back to a shed where they were using butane washing machines to do laundry. She had her arms full, and nearly tripped when she saw him, and he helped her load the machines, while apologizing for his stupidity when they met.

“I'm sorry, Melanie. I'm not usually that dumb. I didn't make the connection. I guess I didn't expect to see you here.”

She smiled at him, undisturbed by his previous lack of recognition. In fact, she preferred it. “I played a benefit here on Thursday night.”

“I love your music, and your voice. I thought you looked familiar,” he laughed, finally relaxing. “I thought I must have known you from Berkeley.”

“I wish you did,” she grinned as they went back outside. “I liked that you didn't know who I was. It's a pain sometimes having everyone know and kiss my ass,” she said bluntly.

“Yeah, I'll bet it is.” They went back to the main quad and helped themselves to water bottles from a hand truck, and sat down on a log to talk. It was a pretty, natural setting, with the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance, and the bay glittering in the sunlight. “Do you like what you do, your work, I mean?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it's hard. My mom pushes me a lot. I know I should be grateful. She made my career happen, and my success. She always tells me that. But she wants it more than I do. I just like to sing, and I love the music. And sometimes the gigs are fun, the concert tours and stuff. But other times it's too much. And you don't get to pick and choose. You either have to do it full-on or not at all. You can't be half-baked about it.”

“Have you ever taken a break? Or time off?” She shook her head, and then laughed, aware of how juvenile she sounded. “My mom won't let me. She says that would be professional suicide. She said you don't take breaks at my age. I wanted to go to college, but there was no way with what I was doing. I started to get hot in my junior year of high school, so I quit school, had tutors, and got my GED. I wasn't kidding, I'd love to go to nursing school. She'd never let me.” Even to her, it sounded like the tales of Poor Little Rich Girl. But Tom was sympathetic, and got a glimpse of the kind of pressure Melanie was under. It didn't sound like fun to him, whatever other people thought. She looked sad when she talked about it, as though she had missed a big piece of her youth, which she had. He was sensitive to it as he looked at her, and felt sorry for her.

“I'd love to see you perform sometime,” Tom said thoughtfully. “I mean now that I know you.”