“My superior is God,” she said simply. “In the end, I work for Him. And yes,” she said cautiously, “sometimes I think what the mother superior wants or the bishop says is silly, or short-sighted, or too oldfashioned. Most of them think I'm fairly radical, but now they pretty much let me do what I want. They know I won't embarrass them, and I try not to be too outspoken about local politics. That gets everyone upset, especially when I'm right.” She grinned.
“You don't mind not having a life of your own?” He couldn't imagine it. He was far too independent to live in obedience to anyone, particularly a church or the people who ran it. But that was the essence of her life.
“This is my life. I love it. It doesn't matter if I do it here in the Presidio, or in the Tenderloin, or with prostitutes or drug addicts. I'm just here to help them, in the service of God. Kind of like the military serving their country. I just follow orders. I don't need to make the rules myself.” Everett had always had problems with rules and authority, which at one time in his life was why he drank. It was his way of not playing by the rules, and escaping the crushing pressure he felt when others told him what to do. Maggie was a lot more easygoing about it than he was, even now that he no longer drank. Authority still rankled him at times, although he was better about tolerating it now. He was older, mellower, and being in recovery had helped.
“You make it sound so simple,” Everett said with a sigh, finishing his water, and looking at her carefully. She was a beautiful woman, yet she kept herself back somehow, careful not to engage with people in any kind of personal, womanly way. She was lovely to look at, but there was always an invisible wall between them, and she kept it there. It was more powerful than the habit she didn't wear. Whether others could see it or not, she was always completely aware that she was a nun, and wanted it that way.
“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.”