Danielle Steel - Amazing Grace

“Hi Maggie,” he said gently. “Merry Christmas.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, staring at him. She had no idea what else to say.

“I was at a meeting this morning … and I shared about you …so I flew up to say Merry Christmas to you myself.” She nodded. It was conceivable to her. She could imagine him doing it just that way. No one had ever done anything like that for her before. She wanted to reach out and touch him to see if he was real, but she didn't dare.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her heart racing. “Do you want to go somewhere for a cup of coffee? My place is a mess.” And she didn't think it was proper to take him upstairs. The most important piece of furniture she had in the studio's only room was her bed. And it was unmade.

He laughed in answer to her question. “I'd love that. I've been freezing my ass off on your steps, literally, since three o'clock.” He brushed off the seat of his jeans then, as they walked to a coffee shop across the street. It was a dismal-looking place, but convenient, well lit, and the food was actually halfway decent. Maggie stopped there for dinner sometimes on the way home. The meat loaf was fairly good, and the scrambled eggs. And they were always nice to her because she was a nun.

Neither of them said another word until they sat down, and ordered coffee. Everett ordered a turkey sandwich, but Maggie had just eaten her fill at the lovely Christmas tea she'd shared with Sarah at the St. Francis.

He was the first to speak. “So how've you been?”

“Okay.” She felt tongue-tied for the first time in her life, and then relaxed a little, and almost looked like herself. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Flying up here to wish me a Merry Christmas. Thank you, Everett,” she said solemnly.

“I've missed you. A lot. That's why I'm here today. It suddenly seemed stupid that we can't talk to each other anymore. I guess I should apologize for what happened last time, except that I'm not sorry we did it. It was the best thing that's ever happened to me.” He was always honest with her.

“Me too.” The words fell out of her mouth without her permission, but it was how she felt. “I still don't know how that happened.” She looked remorseful and penitent.

“Don't you? I do. I think we love each other. Or at least I do. And I get the feeling you do too. At least I hope you do.” He didn't want her to suffer for her feelings for him, but he couldn't help hoping that they were in love with each other, and it wasn't just happening to him. “I don't know what we'd ever do about it, if anything. That's another story. But I wanted you to know how I feel.”

“I love you too,” she said sadly. It was the single greatest sin she had ever committed against the Church, and the greatest challenge to her vows, but it was true. She thought he had a right to know.

“Well, that's good news,” he said, taking a bite out of his sandwich. After he had swallowed it, he smiled at her, relieved by what she'd said.

“No, it's not,” she corrected him. “I can't give up my vows. This is my life.” But now, in some way, he was too. “I don't know what to do.”

“How about if we just enjoy it for right now, and think about it? Maybe there is some right way for you to move on into a different life. Kind of like an honorable discharge maybe.” She smiled at what he'd said.

“They don't give you those when you leave the order. I know people do it, my brother did, but I could never imagine doing that myself.”

“Then maybe you won't,” he said fairly. “Maybe we just stay like this. But at least we know we love each other. I didn't come up here to ask you to run away with me, although I'd love it if you did. Why don't you think about it, without torturing yourself? Give it some time, and see how you feel.” She loved how reasonable and sensible he was.

“I'm scared,” she said honestly.

“Me too,” he said, and took her hand in his own. “This is scary stuff. I'm not sure I've ever been in love with anyone in my life. I was too drunk to give a damn about anyone for about thirty years, including myself. Now I wake up, and there you are.” She loved what he had said.

“I've never been in love,” she said quietly, “till you. I never in a million years thought this would happen to me.”

“Maybe God figured it was time.”

“Or He's checking my vocation. I'll feel like an orphan if I leave the Church.”

“I may have to adopt you then. That's a possibility. Can you adopt nuns?” She laughed at what he said. “I'm so happy to see you, Maggie.”

She started to relax then, and they talked the way they always did. She told him about what she'd been doing, he told her about stories he'd covered. They talked about Seth's impending trial. He said he had talked to his editor at length, and might cover it for Scoop. He said if so, he'd be in San Francisco for many weeks, starting in March, when the trial was scheduled to begin. She liked the idea of his being there, and the fact that he wasn't rushing her. By the time they left the coffee shop, they were comfortable with each other again. He held her hand as they crossed the street. It was nearly eight o'clock by then and time for him to catch a plane back to L.A.

She didn't invite him up, but they stood there for a long minute. “This is the best Christmas gift I've ever had.” She smiled at him.

“Me too.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. He didn't want to frighten her, and people in the neighborhood knew she was a nun. He didn't want to compromise her reputation by kissing her. And she wasn't ready for it anyway. She needed to think. “I'll call you, and see how things are going.” And then he caught his breath, and felt like a kid when he spoke. “Will you think about things, Maggie? I know this is a big decision for you. They don't come bigger than this. But I love you, and I'm here for you, and if you were ever crazy enough to do it, I would be honored to marry you. Just so you know what I'm offering is respectable.”

“I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Everett,” she said primly, and then beamed. “I've never been proposed to before either, come to think of it.” She felt giddy as she looked at him, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek.

“Can a recovering alcoholic and a nun be happy together? Stay tuned.” He was laughing as he said it, and suddenly out of the blue, he realized that she was still young enough to have babies, maybe even a few of them, if they got started soon. He liked that idea, but didn't mention it to her. She had enough on her mind as it was.

“Thank you, Everett,” she said, as she unlocked the front door, and he whistled to a passing cab that stopped in front of them. “I'll think about it. I promise.”

“Take as long as you want. I'm in no hurry. There's no pressure on you.”

“Let's see what God has to say about all this,” she said, smiling at him.

“Okay. You ask Him. Meanwhile, I'll start lighting candles.” He had loved doing that as a kid.

She waved as she disappeared into the building, and he ran down the steps to the waiting cab. He looked up at the building as they drove away, thinking that this was possibly the best day of his life. He had love, and better yet, he had hope. And best of all, he had Maggie … almost. And for dead-ass sure, she had him.

Chapter 19

The day after Christmas, filled with the energy of seeing Maggie, Everett sat down at his computer, got on the Internet, and started playing. He knew there were sites that did particular searches. He typed in some information, and a questionnaire appeared on his screen. He carefully answered all the questions, although he didn't have much information. Name, birthdate, place of birth, parents’ names, last known address. That was all he had to go on. No current address, Social Security number, or any other type of information. He kept it limited to Montana. If nothing turned up there, he could search other states. He sat quietly at his computer waiting to see what would come back. There was hardly a pause before a name and address were on his screen. It had all been so simple and so quick. After twenty-seven years, there he was. Charles Lewis Carson. Chad. With an address in Butte, Montana. It had taken twenty-seven years to look for him, but now he was ready. There was a phone number and e-mail address too.