When Melanie found Maggie at the field hospital, the little nun was complaining that the president had toured the Presidio by helicopter but hadn't visited the field hospital. The mayor had come through briefly the day before, and the governor was due to make a tour of the Presidio that afternoon. Plenty of press had been there as well. They were becoming a model city within one that had been badly shattered by the earthquake nearly two days before. Considering how hard they had been hit, the local authorities were impressed by how well organized they all were, and what good sports San Franciscans were. There was an atmosphere of kindness and compassion that prevailed everywhere in the camp, a sense of camaraderie like that among soldiers in a war zone.

“You're up bright and early,” Sister Maggie commented, when Melanie turned up. She looked young and beautiful, and clean, although she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. She had no others, but she had gotten up at seven to line up at the shower stalls. It had felt wonderful to wash her hair and take a hot shower. And she'd had oatmeal and dry toast in the mess hall.

Fortunately the generators were keeping the food cold. The medical personnel were worried about food poisoning and dysentery if they didn't. But so far their biggest problems were injuries, not diseases, although eventually that could become a problem too. “Did you sleep last night?” Maggie asked her. Sleeplessness was one of the key symptoms of trauma, and many of the people they were seeing said they hadn't slept in two days. A fleet of psychiatrists had volunteered to deal with trauma victims, and were set up in a separate hall. Maggie had sent many people over to see them, particularly the elderly and the very young, who were frightened and badly shaken.

She set Melanie to work doing intakes then, writing down the details, symptoms, and data about patients. There was no charge for what they were doing, no billing system, and all the administration and paperwork was being done by volunteers. Melanie was glad she was there. The night of the earthquake had been terrifying, but for the first time in her life, she felt as though she was doing something important instead of just hanging out backstage in theaters, recording studios, and singing. At least here, she was doing people some good. And Maggie was very pleased with her work.

Several other nuns and priests were also working at the Presidio, from a variety of orders and local churches. There were ministers who walked around, talking to people, and had set up offices where people could come for counseling. Clergy members of all denominations were visiting the injured and sick. Very few of them were identified by Roman collars or habits, or religious paraphernalia of any kind. They said who they were and readily talked to people as they wandered around. Some of them were even serving food in the mess hall. Maggie knew a lot of the priests and nuns. She seemed to know everyone. Melanie commented on it later that morning, when they took a break, and Maggie laughed.

“I've been around for a long time.”

“Do you like being a nun?” Melanie was curious about her. She thought she was the most interesting woman she'd ever met. In her nearly twenty years on earth, she had never met anyone with as much kindness, wisdom, depth, and compassion. She lived her beliefs and exemplified them, instead of talking them. And she had a gentleness and poise about her that seemed to touch everyone she met. One of the other workers at the field hospital said that Maggie had an amazing grace about her, and the expression made Melanie smile. She had always loved the hymn by that name and sang it often. From now on, she knew it would remind her of Maggie. It had been on the first CD Melanie ever made, and allowed her to really use her voice.

“I love being a nun,” Maggie answered. “I always have. I've never regretted it for a minute. It suits me perfectly,” she said, looking happy. “I love being married to God, the bride of Christ,” she added, which impressed her young friend. Melanie noticed then the thin white gold wedding band she wore, which Maggie said she had been given when she took her final vows ten years before. It had been a long wait for that ring, she said, and it symbolized the life and work she loved so much and was so proud of.

“It must be hard to be a nun,” Melanie commented with deep respect.

“It's hard to be anything in this life,” Maggie said wisely. “What you do isn't easy either.”

“Yes, it is,” Melanie disagreed. “It is for me. The singing is easy and what I love. That's why I do it. But concert tours are hard sometimes, because you travel a lot, and you have to work every day. We used to go on the road in a big bus, and we drove all day, and performed all night, with rehearsals as soon as we arrived. It's a lot easier now that we fly.” The good times had finally come with her enormous success.

“Does your mother always travel with you?” Maggie asked, curious about her life. She had said that her mother and several other people were with her in San Francisco. Maggie knew it was in the nature of her work to travel with an entourage, but she thought that the addition of her mother was unusual, even for a girl her age. She was nearly twenty.

“Yes, she does. She runs my life,” Melanie said with a sigh. “My mom always wanted to be a singer when she was young. She was a showgirl in Vegas, and she's pretty excited that things have gone well for me. A little too excited sometimes.” Melanie smiled. “She's always pushed me hard to do my best.”

“That's not a bad thing,” Sister Maggie commented, “as long as she doesn't push too hard. What do you think?”

“I think sometimes it's too much,” Melanie said honestly. “I'd like to make my own decisions. My mom always thinks she knows best.”

“And does she?”

“I don't know. I think she makes the decisions she would have made for herself. I'm not always sure they're what I want for me. She nearly died when I won the Grammy.” Melanie smiled, and Maggie's eyes danced as she watched her.

“That must have been a big moment, the culmination of all your hard work. What an incredible honor.” She hardly knew the girl but was proud for her anyway.

“I gave it to my mother,” Melanie said softly. “I felt like she won it. I couldn't have done it without her.” But something about the way she said it made the wise nun wonder if that kind of stardom was what Melanie wanted for herself, or just to please her mother.

“It takes a lot of wisdom and courage to know what path we want to take, and what path we're taking to please others.” The way she said it made Melanie look pensive.

“Did your family want you to be a nun? Or were they upset?” Melanie's eyes were filled with questions.

“They were delighted. In my family, that was a big deal. They'd rather have their kids be priests or nuns than get married. Today, that sounds a little crazy. Twenty years ago, in Catholic families, parents always bragged about it. One of my brothers was a priest.”

“ ‘Was'?” Melanie questioned her, and Sister Maggie smiled.

“He left after ten years and got married. I thought it would kill my mother. My father was already dead by then, or it would have killed him. In my family, once you take your vows, you don't leave religious orders. To be honest, I was kind of disappointed in him myself. He's a great guy though, and I don't think he ever regretted it. He and his wife have six children, and they're very happy. So I guess that was his real vocation, not the Church.”

“Do you wish you had children?” Melanie asked wistfully. The life Maggie led seemed sad to her, far from her family, never married, working on the streets with strangers, and living in poverty all her life. But it seemed to suit Maggie to perfection. You could see it in her eyes. She was a happy, totally fulfilled woman, who was obviously content with her life.

“All the people I meet are my children. The ones I know on the streets and see year after year, the ones I help and get off the streets. And then there are special people like you, Melanie, who happen into my life and touch my heart. I'm so glad I met you.” She gave her a hug, as they put their conversation aside and went back to work, and Melanie returned the hug with obvious affection.

“I'm so happy I met you too. I want to be like you when I grow up,” she giggled.

“A nun? Oh, I don't think your mother would like that! There are no stars in the convent! It's supposed to be a life of humility and cheerful deprivation.”

“No, I mean helping people the way you do. I wish I could do something like that.”

“You can, if you want to. You don't have to be in a religious order to do it. All you have to do is roll your sleeves up and get to work. There are people in need everywhere around us, even among fortunate people. Money and success don't always make people happy.” It was a message for Melanie, and she knew it, and more importantly for her mother.

“I never have time to do volunteer work,” Melanie complained. “And my mother doesn't want me around people with diseases. She says if I get sick, I'll miss concert dates or tours.”

“Maybe one day you'll find time for both. Maybe when you're older.” And when her mother loosened her grip on her career, if she ever would. It sounded to Maggie as though Melanie's mother was living vicariously through her. She was living her dreams through her daughter. It was lucky for her Melanie was a star. The blue-eyed nun had a sixth sense for people, and she could sense that Melanie was her mother's hostage, and somewhere deep inside, even without knowing it, she was struggling to get free.

They got busy with Maggie's patients then. They saw an endless stream of injured people all day, most of them minor injuries that could be ministered to by a nurse and not a doctor. The others, in the triage system they were using at the field hospital, went to someone else. Melanie was a good little assistant, and Sister Maggie praised her often.