Danielle Steel - Amazing Grace

“That must be stressful for you both,” Maggie commented, looking sympathetic. She was always so kind. “How are you doing with forgiveness, by the way? I know that's not a small endeavor, particularly in a case like this.”

“That's true,” Sarah said quietly. “To be honest, I don't think I'm doing so well with that. I'm so angry sometimes, and so hurt. How could he do it? We had such a wonderful life. I love him, but I just don't understand how he could do something like that, and be so dishonest. He has no integrity whatsoever.”

“Something must have gone very wrong. It was certainly a shocking error of judgment. And it sounds like he may pay a terrible price for it. Maybe that's punishment enough. And losing you and the children must be the final blow.” Sarah nodded. The problem for her was that she was paying the price too. She had lost her husband, and her children their father. But worst of all, she had lost all respect for him, and doubted she could ever trust him again. Seth knew it, and had barely dared to look her in the eye before he left. The look on her face had said it all.

“I don't mean to be hard on him. It's just such a terrible thing. He blew our whole life apart.” Maggie nodded, thinking about it. It was definitely hard to understand. Greed probably. And the need to be even more than he was. It was like some terrible character flaw in him that had surfaced, and turned into a tidal wave that had taken everyone with it. But Sarah looked better than Maggie had hoped. She almost said something to her then about her own problems, but she wouldn't even have known where to start. The big blue eyes looked into Sarah's, and the younger woman saw something deeply worried there. “Are you okay?” Sarah asked her, and then Maggie nodded.

“More or less. I have my challenges too sometimes.” She smiled. “Even nuns have nutty thoughts and do crazy things. I forget sometimes that we have the same human frailties as everyone else. Just when I think I have things all figured out, and think I have a direct channel to God, He turns the sound off, and I can't figure out what I'm doing or where I am. It reminds me of my own failings and humanity and keeps me humble,” she said cryptically, and then laughed. “I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm talking about.” She had been so confused lately, so tormented, but she didn't want to burden Sarah with her problems. She had enough of her own. And there was nothing to do about what was troubling Maggie. She knew it. She just had to put it out of her mind. She had promised God and herself that she would.

They walked back to the field hospital then. Sarah said goodbye to Maggie, and promised to come back and see her soon.

“Let me know if you get the job!” she called out as Sarah walked away. Sarah wondered if she'd get it. She was qualified certainly, but her luck hadn't been running strong of late. Maybe this time it would. She needed the job. No one had responded to the ré sumé's she had sent out in case the hospital job didn't pan out, although she hoped it would.

Sarah drove back to the house on Clay Street then, and was happy to see that Parmani and the children were home from the park, as she walked into the flat. Molly squealed in delight and ran to her, and Oliver crawled across the floor with a big grin for his mom. She tossed him up in the air, and sat down on the couch with him on her lap, as Molly cuddled up next to her, and Sarah realized again that whatever else had happened, the greatest blessing in her life was them. And as she started to get dinner ready, she thought about how nice it had been to see Maggie that afternoon. She wondered what the problem was that she'd been referring to. Whatever it was, she hoped it was nothing major. She was such a kind woman, and such a remarkable soul that Sarah couldn't imagine a problem she couldn't solve. She certainly helped Sarah with hers. Sometimes all it took was a willing ear and a good heart, although Sister Maggie offered far more than that. She tossed in wisdom, love, and humor too.

Melanie's ankle was still bothering her when she came back to L.A. at the beginning of September. It had been hurting for the whole two months she'd been on tour. She had gone to see a doctor in New Orleans, and another one with Tom when he visited her in New York. Both orthopedists had told her it would just take time. At her age, most things were easy to repair, but hopping on and off stages and running around the country for two months doing oneor two-night stands was hard even on her. She finally went to see her own doctor when she got back to L.A., and he said it wasn't healing as well as it should have. He told her she was working too hard. That was nothing new. She had described the tour to him, and what she did when she was on it. He had been horrified. She was still wearing the big black boot, because the ankle hadn't healed, and the boot gave her some relief and protection from further damage. The only time her ankle didn't hurt was when she wore it. Onstage, even in normal street shoes now, even flats, the ankle always killed her.

Tom was worried when she called him on her way home. “What did he say?”

“That I need a vacation, or maybe I should retire,” Melanie teased. She loved how attentive Tom was. Jake had been such a jerk. Tom wanted to know everything about her, even what her doctor had said when he ran another X-ray. “Actually,” she answered him, he says there's still a hairline crack, and if I don't take it easy, I could wind up with surgery and pins in my foot. I think I'll pick ‘take it easy.’ I don't have a lot to do right now.” Tom laughed.

“Since when do you not have a lot to do?” She had taken care of everything on her desk when she got home the day before. Melanie was always busy. And Tom worried about her.

Her mother asked her the same questions about the ankle when she got home. Melanie shared with her that the doctor said it wasn't a big deal. Unless she went on tour again, then it might be.

“It's starting to look like a big deal,” her mother said casually. “Every time I look at you, the foot is swollen. Did you tell the doctor that? You can't even wear high heels.”

Melanie looked sheepish. “I forgot.”

“So much for being grown up at twenty,” Janet added. Melanie didn't have to be completely grown up. In some ways, she was just a kid. It was part of her charm. And she had a flock of people around her to take care of her. In other ways, Melanie was far older and had matured from years of hard work and discipline in her career. She was both woman of the world, and enchanting child. Her mother would have preferred to convince her she was still a baby. It gave her all the power, but in spite of Janet's efforts, Melanie was growing up, and becoming a woman in her own right.

Melanie tried to take care of the ankle. She went to physical therapy, did the exercises they gave her, and soaked it at night. It was better, but she was afraid to wear platform shoes or high heels, and when she stood for a long time in rehearsal, it hurt. It was like a constant reminder now of the price she paid for the work she did, and that it wasn't as easy as it looked. The money, fame, and razzle-dazzle of her business didn't come easily. She had performed with a nasty injury all summer, getting on stage with it at night, traveling constantly, and having to make it look as though everything was fabulous, or at least fine, even when it wasn't. She thought about it all one night as she lay awake in bed, with her ankle hurting, and in the morning she made a call. She'd had the name and number in her wallet since she left the Presidio in May. She made an appointment for the following afternoon, went to meet him by herself, and told no one.

The man she went to see was a small rotund man with a bald head and the kindest eyes she'd ever seen, except Maggie's. They talked for a long, long time. And when Melanie drove back to the house in Hollywood, she was crying. They were tears of love, joy, and relief. She needed to find some answers now, and all of his suggestions had been good. And the questions he had asked her about her life had plunged her into ever deeper thought. She had made only one decision that day. She didn't know if she could do it, but she had promised him and herself she would try.