Amazing Grace

“Is it as simple as that? You don't ever disagree with your superiors, and want to do something your own way?”

“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.”

“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.”

“I'm doing a concert in L.A. in June. I go on the road after that. First to Vegas, and then all around the country. July, August, and part of September. Maybe you can come in June.” She liked that idea, and so did he, although they had just met.

They wandered slowly back to the field hospital then, and he left her at the front door, promising to catch up with her later. He hadn't asked if she had a boyfriend, and she had forgotten to mention Jake. He had been so unpleasant since they'd been there, and complained all the time. He wanted to go home. So did eighty thousand other people, and they seemed to be living through it. The inconveniences they were all experiencing hadn't been designed just to annoy him. She had said something about it to Ashley the night before, that Jake was such a baby. And she was getting tired of dealing with him. He was so immature and selfish. She forgot about him, and even Tom, when she went back to work with Maggie.

Everett's AA meeting that night at the camp was a huge success. Much to his amazement, nearly a hundred people showed up, thrilled to have a meeting. The “Friends of Bill W.” sign had attracted the knowledgeable and initiated, and the public announcement that morning in the quad had told people where to find it. They kept it going for two hours, and an astounding number of people shared. Everett felt like a new man when he walked into the hospital at eight-thirty to tell Maggie about it. He noticed that she looked tired.

“You were right! It was fantastic!” His eyes were ablaze with light and excitement when he told her what a success the meeting had been. She was delighted for him. He hung around the hospital for an hour, while things were quiet. She had sent Melanie back to her own hall by then. And she and Everett sat and talked for a long time.

Eventually she left the hospital with him, when she signed out, and he walked her back to the building where all the religious volunteers were staying. There were nuns, priests, ministers, brothers, several rabbis, and two Buddhist priests in orange robes. They came and went as Maggie and Everett sat on the front step. She enjoyed talking to him. And he felt renewed after the meeting, and thanked her again when he got up to leave.

“Thank you, Maggie. You're a terrific friend.”

“So are you, Everett.” She smiled at him. “I'm glad it worked out.” For a minute she had worried about what would happen if no one came. But the group had agreed to meet every day at the same time, and she had a feeling it was going to grow exponentially. Everyone was under a lot of stress. She was even feeling it herself. The priests in her building said mass every morning, and it got her day off to a good start, just as Everett's meeting had done for him. And she prayed for at least an hour at night before she went to sleep, or as long as she could stay awake. She was working long, hard, exhausting days.

“See you tomorrow,” he promised, and then left. She walked into the building where she was staying. There were battery-operated lanterns in the hall as she went up the stairs. She was thinking about him as she walked into the room she was sharing with six other nuns, all of whom had assorted volunteer jobs at the Presidio, and for the first time in years, she felt separate from them. One of them had been complaining for two days that she couldn't wear her habit. She had left it at the convent, when the building caught fire from a gas leak, and they fled, and arrived at the Presidio in bathrobes and slippers. She said she felt naked without her habit. Maggie hated wearing hers in recent years, and had only worn it the night of the benefit because she didn't own a dress, just the clothes she wore while working on the streets.

For the first time in her life, she felt isolated from the other nuns. She wasn't sure why, but they seemed small-minded to her somehow, and she found herself thinking of the conversations she'd had with Everett about how much she loved being a nun. She did, but sometimes other nuns, or even priests, got on her nerves. She forgot that sometimes. Her connection was with God, and the lost souls she worked with. People in religious orders seemed irritating to her at times, particularly when they were righteous or narrow-minded about their own choices in life.

But what she was feeling worried her. He had asked if she had ever questioned her vocation, and she never had. She wasn't now. But suddenly she missed talking to him, their philosophical exchanges, the funny things he said. And as she thought of him, it worried her. She didn't want to get too attached to any man. She wondered if the other nun was right. Perhaps nuns needed habits to remind other people of who they were and to keep a distance. There was no distance between her and Everett. In the unusual circumstances they were all living, powerful friendships had been formed, unseverable bonds, and even budding romances. She was willing to be Everett's friend, but surely nothing more. She reminded herself of that as she washed her face in cold water, and then lay on her cot, praying as she always did. She didn't allow him to intrude on her prayers, but there was no question, he kept meandering into her head, and she had to make a conscious effort to shut him out. It reminded her, as she hadn't been reminded in years, that she was God's bride and no one else's. She belonged to no one but Him. That was the way it always had been, always would be, and would stay forever. And as she prayed, with particular fervor, she finally managed to shut out the vision of Everett from her mind, and fill it only with Christ. She breathed a long sigh when she finished praying, closed her eyes, and fell peacefully to sleep.

Melanie was exhausted when she went back to her own building that night. It had been her third day of hard work at the field hospital, and although she loved the work she was doing there, on her way back to the hall where she was staying, she had to admit to herself for a minute that it would have been great to have a hot bath, and settle into her comfortable bed with the TV on and fall asleep. Instead she was sharing an enormous room with several hundred people. It was noisy, crowded, smelled bad, and her cot was hard. And she knew they'd be there for at least several more days. The city was still completely shut down, and there was no way to leave. They had to make the best of it, as she told Jake every time he complained. She was disappointed by how whiny he had been, and a lot of the time he took it out on her. And Ashley was no better. She cried a lot, said she was suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome, and wanted to go home. Janet didn't like it there either, but at least she was making friends, and talked about her daughter constantly, in order to let everyone know how important and special she was. Melanie didn't care. She was used to it. Her mother did that everywhere they went. And the guys in her band, and roadies, had made a lot of friends. They hung out and played poker a lot. She and Pam were the only ones in the group who were working, so Melanie hardly saw the others now.

She helped herself to a cherry soda on the way in. The hall was dimly lit with the battery-operated torches that lit up the edges of the room at night. It was just dark enough to stumble over people, or fall if you weren't careful. There were people in sleeping bags in the aisles, others on cots, and all night long there seemed to be children crying. It was like being on a ship in steerage, or a refugee camp, which was in fact what it was. Melanie made her way to where her group was sleeping. They had more than a dozen cots all grouped together, with some of the roadies on the floor in sleeping bags. Jake's cot was right next to hers.

She sat down on the edge of it, and patted his bare shoulder, which was poking out of the sleeping bag. He had his back to her.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered in the semidarkness. The hall had already quieted down for the night. People went to bed early. They were upset, frightened, depressed over what they'd lost, and there was nothing to do at night, so they went to bed. He didn't move at first, so she assumed he was asleep, and was about to move to her own cot. Her mother wasn't there, and had wandered off somewhere. As Melanie was about to shift to her own cot, there was sudden movement in Jake's sleeping bag, and two heads popped out at once, looking startled and embarrassed. The first face staring at her was Ashley's, the second one was Jake's.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding angry and surprised.

“I sleep here, I think,” Melanie said, unable to understand what she was seeing at first, and then suddenly she realized only too well. “That's nice,” she said to Ashley, who had been her friend almost all her life. “Really nice. What a shit thing for the two of you to do,” she said, keeping her voice down so the others didn't hear. Ashley and Jake were sitting up by then. She could see they had no clothes on. Ashley did some minor gymnastics, and crawled out of the bag in a T-shirt and thong. Melanie recognized it as hers. “You're a prick,” Melanie said to Jake and started to walk away. He grabbed her arm, and struggled out of the bag, wearing only his underwear.

“For chrissake, babe. We were just fooling around. It was no big deal.” People were starting to stare by then. Worse yet, they knew who she was. Her mother had seen to that.

“It looks like a big deal to me,” Melanie said as she turned around to stare at them again, and spoke to Ashley first. “I don't mind you stealing my underwear, Ash, but I think stealing my boyfriend is a little much, don't you?”

“I'm sorry, Mel,” Ashley said, and hung her head, as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don't know, it's so scary here … I'm so freaked out…I had an anxiety attack today. Jake was just trying to make me feel better …I…it wasn't …” She was crying harder, and Melanie felt sick looking at her.

“Spare me. I wouldn't have done it to you. And maybe if both of you got off your dead asses and did something useful around here, you wouldn't have to fuck each other for entertainment. You both make me sick,” Melanie said, her voice shaking as she spoke.

“Don't be such a righteous bitch!” Jake spat at her, deciding that the best defense was a great offense. It didn't fly with her.

“Fuck you!” she shot at him, as her mother arrived, looking confused by what was happening. She could see they were having a heated argument, but had no idea why. She'd been playing cards with some new friends, and a couple of really good-looking men.

“Oh fuck you, you're not as hot as you think you are!” Jake threw back at her, as Melanie walked away and her mother ran after her, looking worried.

“What happened?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” Melanie said, heading out for some fresh air.

“Melanie! Where are you going?” her mother called after her, as people on their path woke up and stared.

“Out. Don't worry. I'm not going back to L.A.” She ran out the door then, and Janet went back to find Ashley sobbing, and Jake having a tantrum of some kind. He was throwing things, and people on neighboring cots were telling him to knock it off, or they'd kick his ass. He wasn't popular in the area where they slept. He had been rude to everyone around them, and they didn't find him charming, even if he was a TV star. Janet was looking deeply concerned, and asked one of the band members to talk to him and tell him to stop.

“I hate this place!” Jake shouted, and went outside, with Ashley running behind him. It had been a stupid thing to do, and she knew it. She knew how Melanie was, loyalty and honesty meant everything to her. She was afraid Melanie would never forgive her and said as much to Jake, as they sat outside wrapped in blankets, with bare feet. Ashley glanced around and didn't see Melanie anywhere. “Oh, fuck her,” Jake added. “When the fuck are they going to get us out of here?” He had asked one of the helicopter pilots about airlifting them out, and taking them back to L.A. He had looked at Jake like he was insane. They were flying for the government and were not for hire.

“She'll never forgive me,” Ashley whimpered.

“So what? What do you care?” He took a deep breath of the cool night air. It had just been a little fun with Ashley, they had had nothing else to do, and Melanie was so goddamn busy playing Florence Nightingale. He told himself and Ashley that if she'd stuck around, this would never have happened. It was her fault, not theirs. “You're twice the woman she is,” he told Ashley, who lapped it up as she cuddled up to him.

“Do you really think so?” she asked, looking hopeful and a lot less guilty than she had a few minutes before.

“Sure, baby, sure,” he said, and a few minutes later they went back inside. She slept in his sleeping bag with him, since Melanie wasn't there anyway. Janet pretended not to see it, but understood fully what had happened. She had never liked Jake anyway. In her opinion, he wasn't a big enough star for her daughter, and Janet took a dim view of his history with drugs.

Melanie had gone back to the field hospital, and slept on one of the empty cots they kept waiting for new patients. The nurse in charge said she could sleep there, when Melanie explained that there had been a problem in her own hall. She promised to get up if they needed the bed for a patient.

“Don't worry about it,” the nurse told her kindly. “Get some sleep. You look beat.”

“I am,” Melanie said, and then lay awake for hours, thinking about Ashley and Jake's faces coming out of his sleeping bag. It didn't totally surprise her that Jake had done it, although she hated him for it, and thought he was a pig for cheating on her with her best friend. But it was Ashley's betrayal that hurt her most. They were both weak and selfish, users, and shameless about exploiting her. She knew it came with the territory, and she had lived through other betrayals. But she was sick of all the disappointments that came with stardom. Whatever happened to love, honesty, decency, loyalty, and real friends?

Melanie was sound asleep on the hospital cot when Maggie found her there the next morning, and covered her gently with a blanket. She had no idea what had happened, but whatever it was, she knew instinctively that nothing good had brought her there. Maggie left her to sleep as long as she could. Melanie looked like a sleeping child, as Maggie left her, and started her day. There was so much to do.

Chapter 8

The tension at Seth and Sarah's house on Divisadero on Monday morning was palpable and overwhelming. As he had since the earthquake, Seth tried all their house phones, their cell phones, their car phones, even his BlackBerry, to no avail. San Francisco was still completely cut off from the world. Helicopters were still buzzing overhead, flying low to check on people and report back to Emergency Services. They could still hear sirens throughout the city. And if they were able to, people stayed in their homes. The streets looked like a ghost town. And inside their home, there was a sense of impending doom. Sarah stayed away from Seth and kept busy with her babies. They still had their usual routines. But she and Seth hardly spoke to each other. What he had confessed to her had shocked her into silence.

She fed the children breakfast, although their food supplies were dwindling. She played with them in the garden afterward and pushed them on the swingset they had there. Molly thought it was funny that the tree had fallen down. And Oliver's cough and earache were better, from the antibiotics he'd taken. Both children were in good spirits; the same could not be said about their parents. She and Parmani made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, with sliced bananas, and then put them down for their naps. The house was quiet when she finally went to see Seth in his study. He look ravaged, and was staring blindly at the wall, lost in thought.

“Are you okay?” He didn't even bother to answer. He just turned to look at her with broken eyes. Everything he had built for them was about to come tumbling down. He looked devastated and gray. “Do you want lunch?” she asked him, and he shook his head, and then looked at her with a sigh.

“You understand what's going to happen, don't you?”

“Not really,” she said softly, and sat down. “I know what you told me, that they're going to audit Sully's books, and find the investors’ money gone, and then they'll trace it to your accounts.”

“It's called theft and securities fraud. Those are federal felonies. Not to mention the lawsuits that will set off among Sully's investors, and even mine. It's going to be a hell of a mess, Sarah. Probably for a long, long time.” He had thought of nothing else since Thursday night and she since Friday morning.

“What does that mean? Define mess,” she said sadly, thinking that she might as well know what was coming. It was going to be happening to her too.

“Prosecution probably. A grand jury indictment. A trial. I'll probably be convicted and go to prison.” He glanced at his watch. It was four o'clock in New York, four hours past the time when he had to have the money back to Sully in time for his investors’ audit. It was shit luck that their respective audits had been so close together, and even worse luck that the San Francisco earthquake had shut down all communications and the city's banks. They were dead in the water, and sitting ducks with no way to cover their tracks. “By now, Sully has been caught red-handed, and sometime this week the SEC will start an investigation of his books, and mine when this city opens up again. He's in the same boat I am. The investors will start suing in civil suits, for misappropriation of their funds, theft, and fraud.” And then as though to make matters worse, he added, “I'm pretty sure we'll lose the house, and everything else we have.”

“And then what?” Sarah asked in a hoarse voice. She wasn't as horrified about losing their property and possessions as she was about discovering that Seth was a dishonest man. A crook and a fraud. She had known and loved him for six years, only to find out that she didn't know him. She couldn't have looked more shocked if he had turned into a werewolf in front of her eyes. “What'll happen to me and the kids?”

“I don't know, Sarah,” he told her honestly. “You may have to get a job.” She nodded. There were worse fates. She was more than willing to work if it would help them, but if he was convicted, what was going to happen to their life, their marriage? If he went to prison, then what, and for how long? She couldn't even get the words out to ask him, and he just sat there, shaking his head, as tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. What scared her too was that he seemed to be thinking of himself in all this, and not of them. What was going to happen to her and the children if he went to jail?

“Do you suppose as soon as the city opens up again, the police are going to show up?” She had no idea what lay ahead. In her worst nightmares, she could never have conceived of anything like this.

“I don't know. I guess they would start with an SEC investigation first. But it could get very bad very quickly. As soon as the banks open, the money is going to be sitting there, and I'm screwed.” She nodded, trying to absorb it, remembering what he had said.

“You said you and Sully did this before. A lot of times?” Her eyes were bleak, and her voice was hoarse. Seth had been dishonest not just once, but maybe for several years.

“A few.” He sounded tense as he answered.

“How many is a few?” She wanted to know.

“Does it matter?” She saw a muscle in his jaw go taut. “Three … maybe four. He helped me set it up. The first time I did it was right after we started, to give us a little push and get investors interested in the fund. Kind of like window dressing, to make us look good. It worked … so I did it again. It brought the big investors in, thinking we had that kind of money in the bank.” He had lied to them, cheated, committed outright fraud. It was inconceivable to her, and accounted now for his rapid and astonishing success. The wonder boy everyone talked about was a liar and a thief, a con man. And even more horrifying was the fact that she was married to him. He had fooled her too. She had never wanted all the extravagant luxuries he had provided. She didn't need them. They had even worried her at first. And Seth had insisted that he was making money hand over fist, and they deserved all the toys and the fabulous lifestyle he was providing for her. Houses, jewelry, fancy cars, his plane. And he had built all of it on ill-gotten means. Now he was about to get caught, and everything he had worked for would disappear, out of her life too.

“Are we in trouble with the IRS too?” she asked, looking panicked. If so, it might implicate her as well since they filed joint returns. What would happen to their children if she went to prison? The mere thought of it terrified her.

“No, we're not,” he reassured her. “Our tax returns are clean as a whistle. I wouldn't do that to you.”

“Why not?” she said, with tears bulging in her eyes, and then spilling slowly down her cheeks. She was overwhelmed. The earthquake that had just hit the city was peanuts compared to what was about to happen to them. “You've done everything else. You put yourself at risk, and you're going to take all of us down with you.” She couldn't even imagine what she was going to tell her parents. They were going to be horrified, and deeply ashamed once this hit the press. There would be no way to keep it quiet. She could easily see the story being a major item on the news, even more so if he was convicted and went to prison. The newspapers were going to have a field day with it. The higher he had climbed, the harder he would hit when he fell. It was easily predictable, she realized as she stood up and walked around the room. “We need a lawyer, Seth, a really good one.”

“I'll take care of it,” he said, watching her stand staring out the window. The neighbor's window boxes had fallen, and were still lying all over the sidewalk, with dirt and flowers everywhere. They had gone to the shelter in the Presidio when their chimney fell through their roof, and no one had cleaned up any of the mess. There was going to be a lot of cleaning up to do in the city. But it would be nothing compared to the mess that Seth was going to have to deal with. “I'm sorry, Sarah,” he whispered.

“So am I,” she said, turning to look at him. “I don't know if it means anything to you, but I love you, Seth. I did from the minute we met. I still do, even after this. I just don't know where we go from here. Or even if we do.” She didn't say it to him, but she didn't know if she could ever forgive him for being so dishonest and having so little integrity. It had been a horrifying revelation about the man she loved. If he was in fact so different than she had believed him to be, who in fact did she love? He looked like a stranger to her now, and in fact, he was.

“I love you too,” he said miserably. “I'm so sorry. I never thought it would come to this. I didn't think we'd get caught.” He said it as though he had stolen an apple from a cart, or failed to return a book to a library. She was beginning to wonder if he fully realized how major this was.

“That's not the point. It's not just about your getting caught. It's about who you were and what you were thinking when you set it up. The risk you took. The lie you were living. The people you were willing to hurt and lie to, not just your investors, but me and the kids. They're going to be damaged by this too. If you go to prison, they'll have to live with that for the rest of their lives, knowing what you did. How are they going to look up to you when they grow up? What does this tell them about you?”

“It tells them that I'm human and I made a mistake,” he said sorrowfully. “If they love me, they'll forgive me, and so will you.”

“Maybe it's not as simple as that. I don't know how you come back from something like this, any of us. How do you forget that someone you completely trusted turned out to be a liar and a fake, a thief …a fraud … how do I ever trust you again?” He said nothing, and sat staring at her. He hadn't come near her in three days. He couldn't. She had put a wall between them ten feet high. Even in their bed at night, each of them had huddled toward their respective sides, with a vast expanse of empty space between them. He didn't touch her, and she couldn't bring herself to reach out to him. She was too wounded and in too much pain, too disillusioned and disappointed. He wanted her to forgive him, and understand, and be supportive of him, but she had no idea if she ever would, or could. It was just too huge.

She was almost grateful that the city was cut off. She needed the time to absorb it before the roof fell in on them. But then again, if the earthquake hadn't hit the city, none of this would have happened. He would have sent the money back to Sully, so he could cook his own books. And then, at some point, they would have done it again, and maybe gotten caught later. Sooner or later it would have had to happen. No one was that clever, or got away with a crime of this magnitude forever. It was so simple it was pathetic, and so dishonest that it boggled the mind.

“Are you going to leave me, Sarah?” That would have been the icing on the cake for him. He wanted her to stand by him, and she didn't look as though she would. Sarah had extremely rigid ideas about honesty and integrity. She set extremely high standards for herself and everyone else. He had violated them all. He had even put their family at risk, which he suspected would be the final straw for her. Family was sacred to her. She lived by the values she believed in. She was a woman of honor, and she expected and believed the same of him.

“I don't know,” she said honestly. “I have no idea what I'm going to do. I'm having trouble getting my mind around the whole concept. What you did is so enormous, I'm not sure I even get it yet.” Nothing that had happened in the earthquake had shocked her as much as this. She looked as though the world had collapsed in on her and their kids.

“I hope you don't leave,” he said, sounding sad and vulnerable. “I want you to stay.” He needed her. He didn't think he could face this alone. But he realized he might have to, and at some level, recognized that it was his own fault.

“I want to stay,” she said, crying again. She had never felt as devastated in her life, except when they thought their baby was going to die. Thank God, Molly had been saved. But she couldn't imagine now that anything would be able to save Seth. Even if he had a brilliant lawyer and they negotiated like crazy, she couldn't imagine him being acquitted, not with the proof they would have from the bank. “I just don't know if I can,” she added. “Let's see what happens when we're in communication with the world again. I imagine that the shit will hit the fan pretty fast.” He nodded. They both knew that this time of being cut off from the world was a reprieve for both of them. There was no way that they could act, or react. They just had to sit there and wait. It added immeasurably to the stress of the days after the earthquake, but she was grateful for the time it gave her to think. It did more for her than for Seth, who prowled the house like a caged lion, thinking about what was going to happen to him, and worrying about it constantly. He was desperate to talk to Sully, to find out what had happened to him in New York. Seth checked his BlackBerry constantly, as though it would suddenly come alive. It was still as dead as everything else, and possibly their marriage.

As they had for the three nights before that, they stayed well away from each other in bed that night. Seth wanted to make love to her, just for the comfort it would give him, the reassurance that she still loved him, but he didn't go near her, and didn't blame her for how she felt. He lay awake on his side of the bed, long after she fell asleep. Halfway through the night, Oliver woke up, crying and pulling on his ears again. He was teething, and Sarah wasn't sure if his ears were hurting or his teeth. She held him in her arms for a long time, rocking him in the big comfortable rocking chair in his room, until he finally went back to sleep again. She didn't put him back in his crib, she just sat there, holding him, looking at the moon, and listening to the helicopters patrolling the city through the night. It sounded like a war zone, as she listened, and as she sat there, she realized that it was. She knew this was going to be a terrible time for them. There was no way to avoid it, change it, turn the clock back to before it happened. Just as the city had been shaken to its roots by the earthquake, their life had come down around their ears, or was about to. It had fallen from the sky, hit the pavement, and been smashed to bits.

She spent the rest of the night in the rocking chair, holding Ollie, and never went back to bed. She couldn't bring herself to go back and lie next to Seth, and maybe never could again. She moved out of their bedroom into the guest room the next day.

Chapter 9

On Friday, the eighth day after the earthquake, the shelter residents at the Presidio were told that the freeways and airport would reopen the next day. A temporary tower had been set up. It would be months before the old one was rebuilt. The opening of Highways 280 and 101 meant that people could move freely to the south, but the Golden Gate Bridge wouldn't open for a few more days, making direct movement toward the north still impossible. They were told that the Bay Bridge would be closed for many months, until it was repaired. That would mean that commuters from the East Bay would have to travel to the city via the Richmond and Golden Gate Bridges, or the Dumbarton or San Mateo Bridges to the south. Commuting would be a nightmare, and traffic would be extremely slow. And for now, only those who lived on the peninsula would be able to go home on Saturday.

Several neighborhoods were being opened again, and people would be able to check the condition of their homes. Others had to face police barricades and yellow tape, if conditions were too dangerous to enter. The Financial District was still a disaster and off limits to everyone, which meant that many businesses could not reopen. And electricity would become available to only a small portion of the city over the weekend. There were rumors that electricity would not be fully restored for perhaps as long as two months, or one if they were lucky. The city was on all fours, but it was beginning to crawl. After being completely flattened for the past eight days, it was showing signs of life, but it would be months before San Francisco would stand fully upright again. There had been much talk in the shelters about people saying they would move away. They had lived with the threat of a major earthquake for years, and now that it had come, it had hit too hard. Some were ready to quit, others were determined to stay. Old people said they wouldn't live long enough to see another one like it, so it didn't matter to them. Young people were anxious to rebuild and start again. And many in between said they had had it with the city. They had lost too much and were too frightened. There was a constant cacophony of worried voices in the sleeping halls, the mess hall, and on the walkways where people strolled, and even along the beaches bordering Crissy Field. On a sunny day, it was easier to forget what had happened to them. But late at night, when they all felt the aftershocks that had begun to hit them a day later, everyone looked panicked. It had been a traumatic time for everyone in the city, and it wasn't over yet.

After they heard the news that the airport was going to open the next day, Melanie and Tom sat on the beach, talking, looking out at the bay. They had come to sit here every day. She had told him what had happened with Jake and Ashley, and she had been sleeping at the hospital ever since. She was anxious to get home and get away from them, but she had enjoyed getting to know Tom better.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked him quietly. Sitting with him always felt comfortable and peaceful. He had an easy way about him, of confidence and decency.

It was nice being with someone who wasn't directly involved in her business, or any aspect of show business. She was tired of actors, singers, musicians, and all the crazy people she dealt with every day. She had gone out with several of them, and it always ended as it had with Jake, or sometimes worse. They were narcissists, drug addicts, lunatics, or just generally badly behaved people who wanted to take advantage of her in some way. From what she had seen, they had no conscience, no morality, and they did whatever felt good to them at the time. She wanted something better than that in her life. Even at nineteen, she was far more stable than they were. She didn't do drugs and never had, had never cheated on anyone, didn't lie, wasn't obsessed with herself, and was a decent, moral, honest person. She wanted the same from someone else. She and Tom had talked a lot about her career in the past few days and where she wanted to go with it. She didn't want to abandon it, but wanted to take charge of it herself. It was unlikely her mother would ever let that happen. Melanie had said to Tom that she was tired of being run, controlled, used, and pushed around by everyone else. He was impressed by how logical, rational, and sane she was.

“I've got to go back to Berkeley and move out of my apartment,” Tom said, in answer to her question. “It sounds like it may be a while before I can do that. At least the Golden Gate and Richmond Bridges have to reopen, so I can get over to the East Bay. Then I'll go back to Pasadena after that. I was going to stick around for the summer. I have a job here in the fall, but everything could change now, depending on how soon businesses can reopen. I may look for something else down there.” Like her, he was practical, had a level head, and kept a clear view of his goals. He was twenty-two years old, wanted to work for a few years, and then go to business school, maybe at UCLA. “What about you? What have you got on your agenda for the next few weeks?” They hadn't talked about it in any detail before. He knew she was leaving on tour in July, after a concert in Las Vegas. She had told him how much she hated it there, but it was an important venue for her, and the tour was going to be huge. After that, she was planning to be back in L.A. in September after the tour. But he had no idea what she had planned through June. It was still only May.

“I have a recording session next week for a new CD. We're doing some of the material I'll be using on the tour. It's a good warm-up for me. Other than that, I'm pretty free till my L.A. concert in June right before I leave. Do you think you'll be back in Pasadena by then?” She gave him the date, and looked hopeful. He smiled, listening to her. Getting to know her had been wonderful, seeing her again would be like a dream. He couldn't help thinking that she would forget him as soon as she got back to L.A. “I'd love you to come to the L.A. concert as my guest. It gets pretty crazy when I'm working, but it might be fun for you. You can bring a couple of friends if you want.”

“My sister would go nuts,” he said, smiling at her. “She'll be home in June too.”

“Why don't you bring her,” Melanie said, and then her voice dropped down to a whisper. “I hope you call me when you get back.”

“Will you take my call?” he asked, looking worried. Once out of the Presidio and back to her real life, she was a major star. What could she possibly want with him? He was just a fledgling engineer and no one on her radar screen. But she seemed to like being with him, as much as he enjoyed being with her.

“Of course I will,” she reassured him. “I hope you call me.” She jotted down her cell phone number for him. Cell phones were not operating in the San Francisco area yet, and wouldn't be for a while. Computer and telephone service hadn't been restored either. There was some talk that they would be up and running in another week.

They walked back to the hospital again then, and he teased her as they wandered in. “I guess you won't be going to nursing school for a while, if you're going on tour.”

“Yeah, right. Not in this lifetime.” She had introduced Tom to her mother the day before, and Janet hadn't been impressed. As far as she was concerned, he was just a kid, and his engineering degree meant nothing to her. She wanted Melanie to go out with producers, directors, lead singers, and well-known actors, anyone who would catch the eye of the press or in some way help her career. Whatever his other failings, Jake had been in those leagues, as a lure for the press. Tom never would be. And his boring, wholesome, well-educated Pasadena family was of no interest to Janet whatsoever. She wasn't worried about it, she figured Melanie would forget him as soon as they left San Francisco, and she wouldn't see him again. She had no idea about their plans to meet up again in L.A.

Melanie worked with Maggie all day and well into the evening. They had a pizza together that Tom brought them that night from the mess hall. The food had actually remained surprisingly good, thanks to a continual supply of fresh meats, fruits, and vegetables that were flown in by helicopter, and the creative skills of the chefs. Everett joined them after his final AA meeting, and said he had turned it over to a new secretary, a woman whose house in the Marina had been destroyed, and she was planning to stay at the shelter in the Presidio for several months. The meeting had grown remarkably just in the past few days, and had been a source of immense support to him. He thanked Maggie again for encouraging him to do it. She assured him gracefully that he would have done it anyway. And they continued to sit and talk, after the young people left for a last stroll on their final night together. This was a time they would all long remember, some of them in poignant ways.

“I hate to go back to L.A. tomorrow,” Everett confessed, after Tom and Melanie had left. They had promised to come back and say goodnight. The L.A. contingent were leaving early the next morning, and Melanie wouldn't be back to work again. “Are you going to be okay here?” He looked worried about her. She was full of fire and brimming with energy, but there was also something vulnerable about her that he had come to love.

“Of course I will. Don't be silly. I've been in much worse places than this. My own neighborhood, for instance.” She laughed, and he smiled at her.

“So have I. But it was nice being here with you, Maggie.”

“Sister Maggie to you,” she reminded him, and then chuckled. There was something between them that worried her at times. He had started treating her like a woman, not just a nun. He was protective of her, and she reminded him that nuns weren't ordinary women, they were under God's protection. “My Maker is my husband,” she said, quoting the Bible. “He takes good care of me. I'll be fine here. You make sure you'll be fine in L.A. too.” She was still hoping he would go to Montana to find his son one of these days, although she knew he wasn't ready to do it. But they had spoken of it a couple of times, and she encouraged him to think about it.

“I'm going to be busy editing all the shots I took here. My editor is going to go crazy.” He smiled at her, anxious to see the shots he had taken of her the night of the earthquake and since. “I'll send you copies of the ones I took of you.”

“I'd like that.” She smiled. It had been a remarkable time for all of them, tragic for some, and life-altering in good ways for others. She had said as much to Melanie that afternoon. She was hoping that at some point Melanie would get involved in volunteer work. She was so good at that kind of thing and had comforted so many people with so much gentleness and grace. “She'd make a great nun,” Maggie commented to Everett, and he guffawed.

“Stop recruiting. Now that's one girl who's never going to enlist. Her mother would kill her.” Everett had met Janet once, with Melanie, and hated her on sight. He thought she was loud, overbearing, pushy, pretentious, and rude. She treated Melanie like a five-yearold, while exploiting her daughter's success to the hilt.

“I suggested that she look up some kind of Catholic mission in L.A. She could do some wonderful work with the homeless. She told me she'd love to stop everything she's doing one day, and go away for six months, to work with poor people in a foreign country. Stranger things have happened. It might do her a lot of good. That's a crazy world she works in. She might need a break from it someday.”

“She might, but I don't think that's going to happen, with a mother like hers. Not while she's selling platinum records and winning Grammys. It may be a while before she can do something like that. If she ever does.”

“You never know,” Maggie said. She had given Melanie the name of a priest in L.A. who did wonderful work with people on the streets, and went to Mexico for several months every year, to help there.

“And what about you?” Everett asked her. “What are you going to do now? Go back to the Tenderloin as soon as you can?” He hated her neighborhood. It was so dangerous for her, whether she acknowledged it or not.

“I think I'll stay here for a while. The other nuns are going to stay too, and a few of the priests. A lot of people living here now have nowhere else to go. They're going to keep the shelters running at the Presidio for at least six months. I'll work at the field hospital, but I'll go home to check on things from time to time. There's probably more for me to do here. I can use my nursing skills.” And she had used them well.

“When am I going to see you again, Maggie?” He looked worried about it. He had loved seeing her every day, and he could already feel her slipping out of his life, possibly for good.

“I don't know,” she admitted, looking sad for a minute herself, and then she smiled, remembering something she had meant to tell him for days. “You know, Everett, you remind me of a movie I saw when I was a kid. It was already an old movie then, with Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr. A nun and a marine get stranded on a desert island. They almost fall in love, but not quite. Or at least they're sensible enough not to let it happen, and they become friends. He behaves very badly at first and shocks her. He drinks a lot, and I think she hides his booze. She reforms him somewhat, and he takes very good care of her, and she of him. They were hiding from the Japanese while they were on the island. It was during World War II. And in the end, they get rescued. He goes back to the Marines and she to the convent. It was called Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison, and it was a very sweet film. I loved it. Deborah Kerr made a great nun.”

“So do you,” he said sadly. “I'm going to miss you, Maggie. It's been so wonderful talking to you every day.”

“You can call me when we get cell phone service back, though I don't think that will happen for a while. I'll be praying for you, Everett,” she said, looking him in the eye.

“Maybe I'll pray for you too,” Everett said. “What about that movie, the part where they almost fall in love but become friends. Did that happen to us?”

She was silent for a long moment, thinking about it, before she answered. “I think we're both more sensible than that, and more realistic. Nuns don't fall in love.”

“What if they do?” he persisted, wanting a better answer than that.

“They don't. They can't. They're already married to God.”

“Don't give me that. Some nuns leave the convent. They even get married. Your brother left the priesthood. Maggie …”

She stopped him in his tracks before he could say more, or something they'd both regret. She couldn't be his friend if he didn't respect her very firm boundaries and crossed the line. “Everett, don't. I'm your friend. I think you're mine. Let's be grateful for that.”

“And if I want more?”

“You don't.” She smiled at him with her electric blue eyes. “You just want what you can't have. Or you think you do. There's a whole world of people out there for you.”

“But no one like you. I've never known anyone like you.”

She laughed at him then. “That may be a very good thing. You'll be grateful for that one day.”

“I'm grateful to have met you,” he said seriously.

“So am I. You're a wonderful man, and I'm proud to know you. I'll bet you win another Pulitzer for the photographs you took.” He had finally admitted it to her, somewhat sheepishly, in one of their long talks about his life and work. “Or some kind of prize! I can't wait to see what gets published.” She was gently steering him onto safer ground, and he knew it. She was not going to open any other door to him, or even let him try.

It was ten o'clock when Melanie and Tom came back to say goodbye. They looked happy and young and a little giddy with the newness of their budding romance. Everett envied them. Life was just starting for them both. He felt as though his was nearly over, the best part anyway, although AA and his recovery had changed his forever, and improved it immeasurably. He was just bored with his job, and missed his old war zones. San Francisco and the earthquake had put a little spark in his life again, and he was hoping the pictures would be great. But he also knew that he was going back to a job that offered little challenge and used few of his skills and too little of his expertise. His drinking, before he conquered it, had put him in that position.

Melanie kissed Maggie goodnight, and she and Tom left. Everett would be leaving with Melanie and her entourage the next day. They were going to be among the first people to leave San Francisco, and a bus was coming for them at eight. The Red Cross had arranged it. There were others leaving later for assorted destinations. They had already been warned that they might have to get to the airport by side streets and back roads as there were a lot of detours on the freeway, and it could take them as long as two hours to get there, if not more.

Everett said goodnight to Maggie regretfully then. He gave her a hug before he did, and slipped something into her hand. She didn't look at it until he'd walked away, and then she opened her hand and saw his one-year AA chip in her palm. He called it his lucky coin. She smiled as she looked at it, with tears brimming in her eyes, and slipped it in her pocket.

Tom walked Melanie back to her hangar. She was sleeping there for her last night. It was the first time she was going back there since the incident with Jake and Ashley. She had seen them in the quad, but avoided them otherwise. Ashley had come to the hospital to talk to her several times, and Melanie had pretended to be busy, or slipped out the back door and asked Maggie to deal with her. She didn't want to hear the lies, excuses, or stories. As far as Melanie was concerned, they deserved each other. She was much happier spending time with Tom now. He was a very special person, with a depth and kindness that matched her own.

“I'll call you as soon as we have phone service, Melanie,” Tom promised. He was thrilled to know that she would be delighted to take his calls. He felt like he had won the lottery, and still couldn't believe his good fortune. He didn't care who she was professionally, he thought she was the nicest girl he had ever known. And she was equally impressed with him, for the same reasons.

“I'll miss you,” she said softly.

“So will I. Good luck with the recording session.”

She shrugged. “They're easy, and fun sometimes. If they go well. We'll have to do a lot of rehearsing after we get back. I already feel rusty.”

“That's hard to imagine. I wouldn't worry about it.”

“I'll be thinking about you,” she assured him, and then laughed. “I never thought I'd be homesick for a refugee camp in San Francisco.” He laughed with her, and then without warning, he reached down gently, took her in his arms, and kissed her. She was breathless when she smiled up at him. She hadn't expected it, but she had loved it. He had never kissed her before, during their walks, or quiet time together. They had been friends until that moment, and hopefully still would be, even if they added more.

“Take good care of yourself, Melanie,” he said softly. “Sleep tight. I'll see you in the morning.” In the mess hall, they were packing lunches for all those who would be traveling the next morning. There was no way of knowing how long they'd have to wait at the airport, or if there would be food there. It didn't seem likely, so the mess hall was providing enough food to take with them and tide them over.

Melanie floated into the hangar with a wistful smile on her face, and found her group in the same place they'd been camped out before. She noticed that Ashley was sleeping on a separate cot from Jake that night, and she no longer cared. Her mother was sound asleep, fully dressed, and snoring. It was going to be their last night in the shelter. The next day it would all feel like a dream, when they got back to the comforts of their life in L.A. But Melanie knew she would remember this week forever.

Melanie saw that Ashley was awake, and ignored her. Jake had his back to her and didn't move when she came in, which was a relief. She wasn't anxious to see him, or to travel with him the next day. But they had no other choice. They were all flying on the same plane with about fifty other people from the camp.

Melanie slipped under the blanket on her cot, and then heard Ashley whisper to her. “Mel …Mel… I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Ash … don't worry about it,” Melanie said, thinking of Tom. She turned her back to her childhood friend who had betrayed her, and five minutes later, she was asleep, with a clear conscience. Ashley lay awake and tossed and turned all night, knowing she had lost her best friend forever. And she already knew Jake wasn't worth it.

Chapter 10

Tom and Sister Maggie came to see the others off the next morning. They were using two school buses to transport them. And they all knew it would be a long ride to the airport. The food for the travelers had been prepared and put on the buses for them. Tom and a number of other workers from the mess hall had finished putting it together at six o'clock that morning. Everything was ready.

Much to everyone's surprise, there were tearful goodbyes as they left. They had all expected to be thrilled to leave, but instead they suddenly found it hard to part from new friends. There were promises to call and write, or even visit. The people in the Presidio had shared so much grief, fear, and trauma. It was a bond they would share forever.

Tom was talking quietly to Melanie as Jake, Ashley, and the others got on the bus, while Janet told her to hurry up. She didn't even bother to say goodbye to Tom. She waved at two women who had come to see her off. Others wished they were going home too, although many had lost their homes and had nowhere to go. The L.A. contingent were lucky to be leaving the area and going back to normalcy again. It would be a long time before anything in San Francisco was normal.

“Take care, Melanie,” Tom whispered to her, as he held on to her gently and then kissed her again. She had no idea if Jake was watching, but after what he had done, she no longer cared. It was over between them, and should have been long before. She was sure he'd be using drugs again as soon as they got back to L.A. At least he'd been forced to stay off them in the camp, or maybe he'd found some after all. She no longer gave a damn about that either. “I'll call you as soon as I get to Pasadena.”

“Take care of yourself,” she whispered, kissed him lightly on the lips, and hopped onto the bus with the others. Jake shot her an evil look as she walked past him. And Everett was right behind her in line before they boarded. He was saying goodbye to Maggie, and she showed him that she had his chip in her pocket.

“Hang on to that, Maggie,” he told her. “It will bring you luck.”

“I've always been lucky,” she said, smiling at him. “I was lucky when I met you,” she added.

“Not as much as I was. Stay safe and be careful. I'll be in touch,” he promised, kissed her on the cheek, looked into those bottomless blue eyes for a last time, and climbed aboard.

Everett opened the window next to him, and waved at Maggie as they drove away. She and Tom stood and looked after the bus for a long time, and then went back to their respective jobs. Maggie was quiet and sad as she walked into the hospital, wondering if she would ever see Everett again, and knowing that if not, it was the will of God. She felt she had no right to ask for more right now. She had shared a remarkable week with him even if they never met again. She felt his AA chip in her pocket, touched it briefly, and went back to work, throwing herself into it with vigor, so she didn't let herself think of him. She knew she couldn't allow herself to do that. He was going back to his own life, and she to hers.

The ride to the airport turned out to be even longer than everyone had predicted. There were still obstacles in the road, parts of it had been torn up, and looked severely mangled. Overpasses had fallen, they saw buildings that had come down, and the drivers of the two buses took a long and circuitous road to the airport. It was nearly noon when they got there, and they saw damage to several terminals when they arrived. The tower that had been standing only nine days before had completely disappeared. There were only a handful of travelers, and only a few planes had come in, but theirs was waiting. It was scheduled to leave at one o'clock. They looked like a ragtag group as they checked in. Credit cards had been lost, and only a few people still had money on them. For those who needed it, the Red Cross had paid for their trip. Pam had Melanie's credit cards on her, and paid for all of their tickets. She had left a large group of friends behind her in the Presidio after working hard for a week. And as Pam paid for their seats, Janet insisted that she and Melanie be in first class.

“We don't need to do that, Mom,” Melanie said quietly. “I'd rather sit with the others.”

“After what we've just been through? They should be giving us the plane.” Janet had apparently forgotten that the others had been through the same ordeal too. Everett was standing near them, paying for his ticket with the magazine's credit card, which he still had, and glanced at Melanie. She smiled and rolled her eyes, just as Ashley walked over with Jake. She still looked mortified whenever she was around her old friend. Jake looked totally fed up.

“Christ, I can't wait to get back to L.A.,” Jake said, almost snarling, as Everett looked at him with a grin.

“The rest of us are dying to stay here,” Everett quipped, as Melanie laughed, although in his case it was true, and hers too. They both had left people they cared about at the camp.

The airline personnel who were assisting them were exceptionally nice. They were well aware of what these people had been through, and they were all treated like VIPs, not just Melanie and her entourage. The band and roadies were flying home with them. Theoretically, they were still on the benefit's tickets, but those had been lost at the hotel. Pam was going to sort it out with them later. For now, all any of them wanted was to get home. They had had no way of reassuring their families they were okay since the earthquake, except through the Red Cross, which had been very helpful. Now the airline took over for them.

They took their seats on the plane, and as soon as they took off, the pilot made an announcement, welcoming them, and saying that he hoped the past nine days hadn't been too traumatic for them. As soon as he said it, several passengers burst into tears. Everett had taken a few last photos of Melanie and her group. It was a far cry from the way they'd all looked when they arrived. Melanie was wearing yet another pair of combat pants, held up with a rope, with a T-shirt that must have belonged to a man ten times her size. Janet was still wearing some of her own clothes that she had worn backstage at the benefit. Her polyester pants had served her well, although she, like everyone else, had finally helped herself to some sweatshirts from the donation tables. The one she was wearing was several sizes too tight. It wasn't a great look with the polyester pants and high heels, which she had refused to exchange for the flip-flops everyone else was wearing by then. Pam was wearing a full set of army clothes that had been given to her by the National Guard. And the roadies and band looked like convicts in overalls. As Everett said, it made one hell of a great picture. It was one he knew that Scoop would run, possibly on the cover, in sharp contrast to the ones he had taken of her performing at the benefit in the slinky sequin and net dress and platform shoes. As Melanie said, her feet looked like a farmer's, her fancy L.A. pedicure had entirely disappeared in the dirt and gravel of the camp as she ran around in rubber flip-flops. Everett still had his beloved black lizard cowboy boots.

They served champagne, cocktail nuts, and pretzels on the flight, and less than an hour later they landed at LAX, among war whoops and screams, wolf whistles and tears. It had been a shocking nine days for them all. Better for some than for others, but even in the best of conditions they had all been through the mill. And the stories they told were legion, of escape and survival, injury and fear. One man had his leg in a cast and was on crutches, provided by the field hospital, and several people had broken their arms and were in casts too. Melanie recognized among them several people whom Maggie had stitched up. On some days, she had the feeling they'd sewn up half the camp. Just thinking about it made her miss Maggie. She was planning to call her on her cell phone, when she could.

The plane taxied up to the terminal, and there was a wall of press waiting when they emerged. They were the first survivors of the San Francisco earthquake to return to L.A. There were TV cameras there too, and they pounced on Melanie the moment she came through the gate, looking a little dazed. Her mother had told her to comb her hair, just in case, but she hadn't bothered. She truly didn't care. She was happy to be home, although she hadn't thought about it much when she was in the camp. She was too busy there.

The photographers recognized Jake too, and took a few pictures of him, but he walked right by Melanie without saying a word, and headed toward the street. He said to someone standing nearby that if he never saw her again, it would be too soon. Fortunately, none of the members of the press taking pictures of her heard him.

“Melanie! …Melanie!! … Over here … here … How was it? …Were you scared? … Did you get hurt? … Come on, give us a smile …You look great!” Everett couldn't help thinking to himself wryly, at nineteen who didn't? They never even saw Ashley in the crowd. She stepped back and waited with Janet and Pam as she had a thousand times before. The roadies and band took off on their own, after saying goodbye to Melanie and her mother. The guys in the band told her they would see her at rehearsal the following week, and Pam said she'd call them to set it up. Melanie's next recording session was in less than a week.

It took them half an hour to press through the crowd of photographers and reporters. Everett helped run interference for them, and accompanied them to several taxis at the curb. For the first time in several years, there was no waiting limousine. But all Melanie wanted now was to get away from the press hounding her. Everett slammed the door to her cab, waved, and watched them pull away. He couldn't help thinking it had been one hell of a week. Within minutes of Melanie's departure, the rest of the press disappeared. Melanie had taken the first cab with Pam, and Ashley was in the second one with Janet. Jake had long since left on his own. And the roadies and musicians had fended for themselves.

Everett took a long look around him, relieved to be back in spite of himself. L.A. looked as though nothing had ever happened. It was hard to believe that life was normal here. It seemed impossible to fathom that the world had nearly ended in San Francisco, and here it was all business as usual. It was a weird feeling to see it. Everett got in a cab then, and gave the driver the address of his favorite AA meeting. He wanted to go there before he even went home. And the meeting was terrific. In his share, he told them all about the earthquake, the meeting he had organized in the Presidio, and then before he could stop himself, he blurted out that he had fallen in love with a nun. Since cross-talk wasn't allowed at twelve-step meetings, no one made any comment. It was only afterward, when he got up and people came over to ask him about the earthquake, that one of the men he knew there made a comment.

“Talk about unavailable, man. How's that going to work?”

“It's not,” Everett said quietly.

“Will she leave the convent for you?”

“No, she won't. She loves being a nun.”

“So what happens to you then?”

Everett thought about it for a minute before he answered. “I go on with my life. I keep coming to meetings. And I love her forever.”

“Does that work for you?” his fellow AA member asked with a look of concern.

“It'll have to,” Everett said. And with that, he walked quietly out of the meeting, hailed a cab, and went home.

Chapter 11

Melanie planned to spend a quiet weekend lying by the pool, and enjoying her house in the Hollywood Hills as she never had before. It was the perfect antidote to nine days of stress and trauma. And she knew she had been far less traumatized than many others. Compared to people who had been injured, lost loved ones or their homes, she had fared very well, and even felt useful during her time working at the field hospital at the camp. And she had met Tom.

Predictably, and much to her relief, Jake didn't call her once they got back. Ashley did several times, and spoke to her mother, but Melanie didn't take the calls. She told her mother she was done.

“Don't you think you're being a little hard on her?” her mother said on Saturday afternoon, while Melanie got her nails done at the side of the pool. It was a gorgeous day. Pam had booked a massage for her later that afternoon. But Melanie felt guilty now, being so lazy, and wished she were back at the field hospital with Maggie, and seeing Tom. She was hoping to see him soon. It was something to look forward to now that she was back in her familiar world in L.A. She missed them both.

“She slept with my boyfriend, Mom,” she reminded Janet about Ashley.

“Don't you think that was more his fault than hers?” Janet liked Ashley, and had promised her she would talk to Melanie when they got home, and everything would be fine. As far as Melanie was concerned, it was not so fine, in fact not at all.

“He didn't rape her. She's a consenting adult. If she cared anything about me, or our friendship, she shouldn't have done it. She didn't care. And now neither do I.”

“Don't be childish. You two have been friends since you were three.”

“That's my point,” Melanie said coldly. “I think that was worth a little loyalty. I guess she didn't think so. She can have him. But I'm out. Over and out. That was a shitty thing to do. I guess friendship doesn't mean as much to her as it does to me. That's a good thing to know.” Melanie wasn't budging an inch.

“I told her I would talk to you and everything would be okay. You don't want to make me look stupid, do you? Or like a liar?” Her mother's wheedling and interference only made Melanie's position more firm. Integrity and loyalty were a big deal to her. Particularly given the life she led, where everyone wanted to use her, every chance they got. It went with the territory of her success and stardom. She expected it from outsiders, or even from Jake, who had turned out to be scum. But she didn't expect it, nor would she accept it, from her best friend. She was angry at her mother for even trying to convince her otherwise.

“I told you, Mom, I'm done. That's the way it's going to stay. I'll be polite to her when I see her, but that's all she's going to get out of me.”

“That's going to be very hard on her,” Janet said sympathetically, but she was wasting her breath. Melanie didn't like the fact that her mother was championing Ashley's cause.

“She should have thought of that before she crawled into Jake's sleeping bag. And I assume she did that all week.” Janet didn't comment for a minute and then tried again.

“I think you should give it some thought.”

“I did. Let's talk about something else.”

Janet looked distressed and walked away. She had promised Ashley she'd call her, and now she didn't know what to say. She hated to tell her that Melanie said she'd never speak to her again, but that was essentially the case. As far as Melanie was concerned, their friendship was dead. Sixteen years of friendship down the tubes. And her mother knew that once Melanie felt betrayed and said it was over, that was it. She had seen her do it before, about other things. A boyfriend who had cheated on her before Jake, and a manager she'd trusted who had stolen money from her. Melanie could only be pushed so far and had healthy boundaries. Janet called Ashley that afternoon and told her to give Melanie a little time to cool off, she was still very hurt. Ashley said she understood and burst into tears. Janet promised to call her again soon. Ashley was like a second daughter to her, but she hadn't been like a sister to her best friend when she slept with Jake. And Ashley knew her well enough to realize that Melanie wasn't going to forgive her.

When the manicurist finished doing her nails, Melanie jumped in the pool. She did laps for a while, and then her trainer came at six. Pam had set that up for her too, and then had gone home. After the trainer left, Janet ordered Chinese takeout, and Melanie ate two softboiled eggs. She said she wasn't hungry and needed to lose a little weight. The food had been too good at the camp, and too fattening. It was time to get serious again before her concert in a few weeks. She thought of Tom and his sister coming to it, and smiled. She still hadn't told her mother about them yet. She figured there was time before he showed up. He was going to be in San Francisco for a while. There was no way of telling how soon he would come to L.A. And then, as though her mother had read her mind, she asked Melanie about him as she sat in the kitchen eating her soft-boiled eggs. Her mother was gorging on Chinese food, saying she had been starving for the past nine days, which was hardly the case. Every time Melanie had seen her, she'd been eating doughnuts, a Popsicle, or a bag of chips. She looked like she'd gained five pounds in the last week, if not ten.

“You're not getting all wound up over that boy you met at the camp, are you? The one with the engineering degree from Berkeley.” She was surprised that her mother remembered. She had been so dismissive of him that Melanie found it hard to believe that her mother remembered his education. But she certainly seemed to be well aware of who he was, right down to his degree.

“Don't worry about it, Mom,” Melanie said noncommittally. She thought it was none of her mother's business. She was turning twenty in two weeks. As far as she was concerned, she was old enough to pick her own men. She had learned a lot from the mistakes she'd made, getting together with Jake. Tom was a different kind of human being, and she loved being part of his life, which was so much more wholesome and healthy than Jake's.

“What does that mean?” her mother asked her, looking worried.

“It means he's a nice guy, I'm a big girl, and yes, maybe I'll see him again. I hope so. If he calls.”

“He'll call. He looked crazy about you, and you're Melanie Free after all.”

“What difference does that make?” Melanie asked, feeling upset.

“It makes a big difference,” Janet reminded her, “to everyone on the planet, except you. Don't you think you're carrying humility a little too far? Look, no man can separate out who you are as a person, and who you are as a star. It's not in their DNA. I'm sure this guy is as impressed by you as everyone else. Who wants to go out with a nothing, if you can be with a star? You'd be a real feather in his cap.”

“I don't think he's into feathers, or caps. He's into serious stuff, he's an engineer, and a good man.”

“How boring,” her mother said, with a look of disgust.

“It's not boring. He's smart,” Melanie persisted. “I like smart guys.” She wasn't apologizing for it. It was a fact.

“Then it's a good thing you got rid of Jake. He drove me nuts for the past nine days. All he did was whine.”

“I thought you liked him.” Melanie looked surprised.

“I thought so too,” Janet said. “I was sick to death of him by the time we left. Some people are not the right ones to go through a crisis with. He's one of them. All he talks about is himself.”

“Apparently, Ashley is one of these people too, that you wouldn't want to go through a crisis with. Especially if she sleeps with your guy. She can have him now. He's a totally narcissistic pain in the ass.”

“You could be right. Just don't throw Ashley away in the deal.” Melanie didn't comment. She already had.

Melanie went to her room early then. It was all done in pink and white satin, by her mother's design, with a pink and white fox throw on the bed. It looked like the bedroom of a Las Vegas showgirl, which was precisely what her mother was at heart, to this day. She had told the decorator exactly what she wanted in Melanie's room, right down to a pink fur teddy bear. All of Melanie's requests for stark simplicity had been ignored. This was what her mother said she had to have. But at least it was comfortable, Melanie acknowledged to herself, as she lay down on the bed. It felt heavenly to be so pampered again. She felt a little guilty for it, particularly when she thought of the people in San Francisco in the shelter, and the fact that they would be there for months, for the most part, while she was at home on her satin-and-fur-covered bed. Somehow, it felt wrong, even if in a way it felt right. But not right enough. If nothing else, it wasn't her style, it was her mother's. That was becoming clearer to Melanie every day.

Melanie lay on her bed and watched TV until late that night. She watched an old movie, the news, and finally MTV. In spite of herself and the interesting experience she'd had, it felt great to be home.

On Saturday afternoon, as Melanie and her group winged their way to L.A., Seth Sloane was sitting in his living room, staring into space. It had been nine days since the earthquake, and they were still isolated and cut off. Seth was no longer sure if it was a blessing or a curse. He could get no news from New York. Nothing. Zero. Zip.

As a result, it was an agonizingly stressful weekend. In desperation, he finally tried to take his mind off his troubles and play with his kids. Sarah hadn't spoken to him in days. He hardly saw her, and at night as soon as she put the children to bed, she disappeared into the guest room. He hadn't commented on it to her, he didn't dare.

On Monday morning, eleven days after the earthquake, Seth was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee, when the BlackBerry he had set on the table next to him suddenly came to life. It was the first chance he'd had to communicate with the outside world, and he grabbed it. He text-messaged Sully immediately and asked him what had happened. The answer came back two minutes later.

Sully's answer was succinct. “The SEC is all over me. You're next. They know. They got the records from the bank. Good luck.” Shit, Seth whispered under his breath, and text-messaged him again.

“Did they arrest you?” he inquired of Sully.

“Not yet. Grand jury next week. They got us, bro. We're fucked.” It was precisely the confirmation he had been fearing for over a week. But even knowing what would probably happen, Seth felt his stomach sink when he read the words. “We're fucked” was an understatement, particularly if they had the records from Sully's bank. Seth's was still closed, but wouldn't be for much longer.

It opened the following day, and Seth's lawyer had told him to do nothing. Seth had literally walked to his house to talk to him, since he couldn't reach him by phone. Anything Seth did now could incriminate him further, especially since Sully was under investigation. And having lost part of his house in the earthquake, Seth's lawyer couldn't meet with him till Friday. As it turned out, the FBI beat him to it. On Friday morning, two weeks after the earthquake, two special agents from the FBI showed up at the house. Sarah let them in. They asked to see Seth. She showed them into the living room and went to get Seth. He'd been sitting in his office upstairs, where he had been holed up in terror for two weeks. It was starting to unravel, and there was no telling where it would go.

The FBI special agents spent two hours with Seth, questioning him about Sully in New York. He refused to answer any questions about himself without a lawyer present and said as little as possible about Sully. They had threatened to arrest him on the spot for obstruction of justice if he refused to respond to any questions about his friend. Seth looked gray when they left. But at least he hadn't been arrested. He was sure that would come soon.

“What did they say?” Sarah asked him nervously after they left.

“They wanted to know about Sully. I didn't say much, as little as I could.”

“What did they say about you?” Sarah asked, looking anxious.

“I told them I wouldn't discuss it without my lawyer present, and they said they'd come back. You can be damn sure they will.”

“What do we do now?” Seth was relieved to hear her say “we.” He wasn't sure if it was just out of habit, or showed her state of mind. He didn't dare ask. She hadn't spoken to him all week. And he didn't want to lose that again now.

“Henry Jacobs is coming here this afternoon.” They finally had their phones back. It had taken two weeks. But he was terrified to talk to anyone. He had had one cryptic phone call with Sully, and that was all. If the FBI were investigating him, he knew they might be tapping his phones, and he didn't want to make things any worse than they already were.

When he came, the lawyer stayed with Seth in his office for nearly four hours. They covered the waterfront. Seth told him everything, and when it was over, his attorney wasn't encouraging. He said as soon as they got his records from the bank, he would probably be called before the grand jury and indicted. And arrested shortly thereafter. He was almost sure that he would have to stand trial. He didn't know what else would happen, but the preliminary visit from the FBI agents was not a good sign.

It was a nightmarish weekend for Seth and Sarah. The Financial District was still closed, without electricity or water, so Seth still couldn't go downtown. He just sat at home, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It did on Monday morning. The head of the local FBI bureau called Seth on his BlackBerry. He said their main offices were closed, and he asked for Seth and his attorney to meet with them at Seth's home the following afternoon. He reminded him not to leave town, and informed him that he was under investigation, and that the FBI had been notified by the SEC. He told Seth that Sully was appearing in front of the grand jury in New York that week, which Seth already knew.

He found Sarah in the kitchen feeding Ollie. The baby had applesauce all over his face, and Sarah had been talking to him and Molly, with Sesame Street on in the background. They had gotten their electricity back over the weekend, which much of the city still hadn't. But it was coming back on here and there. They were among the lucky few, probably because of the neighborhood they were in. The mayor lived a few blocks away, which never hurt. The electricity was being turned on by grid. They were in the first grid, which was fortunate for them. And a few stores were open again, mostly supermarkets, food chains, and banks.

Sarah looked terrified when Seth told her about the FBI meeting scheduled for the next day. The only good news for her was that as his wife, she could refuse to testify against him. But she didn't know anything about it anyway. He had never said anything to her about his illegal transactions at the hedge fund. It had come as a complete shock to her.

“What are you going to do?” she asked in a choked voice.

“Meet them with Henry tomorrow. I have no choice. If I refuse, it looks worse, and they can get a court order to force me. Henry is coming over this afternoon to prepare me.” He had called his lawyer the minute he hung up the call from the FBI and insisted he come over immediately.

Henry Jacobs arrived looking somber and official that afternoon. Sarah opened the door for him, and led him to the upstairs den where Seth was waiting, doodling nervously at his desk, and staring bleakly out the window from time to time. He had been lost in thought all day, and after his brief conversation with Sarah earlier, Seth had closed the door to the room. She knocked softly and let Henry in.

Seth stood up to greet him, waved him to a chair, and sighed as he sat down. “Thanks for coming, Henry. I hope you have a magic wand in your briefcase. It's going to take a magician to get me out of this mess.” He ran a hand through his hair as the somber-looking lawyer sat down across from him.

“That's possible,” Henry said noncommittally.

Henry was in his early fifties and had handled similar cases before. Seth had consulted him several times, in reverse actually, wanting detailed information about how he could cover his shady dealings before they occurred. It had never dawned on his attorney that that was what he had in mind. It had all seemed very theoretical, and Henry had assumed that the questions had been to assure that Seth didn't do anything wrong. He had admired Seth for being so diligent and so cautious, and only now did he realize what was going on. He passed no judgment on it, but there was no question, Seth was in a serious bind, with potentially catastrophic results.

“I take it you've done this before,” Henry commented as they went over it again. Seth's dealings sounded too practiced, too thorough, and too detailed for this to have been the first time. Seth nodded. Henry was astute, and good at what he did. “How often?”

“Four times.”

“Has anyone else been involved?”

“No. Only the same friend in New York. We've been friends since high school. I trust him totally. I guess that's not the point now.” Seth smiled grimly, and then threw a pencil across his desk. “If the fucking earthquake hadn't happened, we'd have been fine this time too. Who would have thought? We were running a little tight on time, but it was just rotten luck that his investors’ auditors were coming in so quickly after mine. It would have worked if the earthquake hadn't shut everything down.” The money had sat there frozen in the banks, which had allowed their scheme to be discovered.

For two full weeks, Seth's hands had been tied, with Sully's investors’ money in his accounts. The point he was missing was not the misfortune of the earthquake to keep them from covering up their crime, but the fact that they had transferred the funds at all. It didn't get much more illegal than that, other than emptying the accounts and absconding with the money. They had lied to two sets of investors, created an illusion of enormous funds in their accounts, and been discovered. Henry wasn't shocked—defending people like Seth was his business—but nor was he sympathetic about the problem the earthquake had caused. Seth could see it in his eyes. “What are we looking at here?” Seth asked bluntly. There was terror stamped all over his face and leaping from his eyes, like a rat in a cage.

He knew he wouldn't like the answer, but Seth wanted to know. He was running scared. The grand jury was meeting in New York that week to indict Sully, by special request of the federal prosecutor. Seth knew he wouldn't be far behind, given what he'd heard from the FBI.

“Realistically, the evidence is fairly solidly against you, Seth,” Henry said quietly. There was no way to dress it up for him. “They have hard evidence against you, in your accounts at the bank.” Henry had told him not to touch the money the moment he'd called. He couldn't have anyway, there was nowhere to go with it. Sully's accounts were already frozen in New York. And he couldn't just take out sixty million dollars in cash and hide it in a suitcase under his bed. For now at least, the money was just sitting there. “The FBI is acting for the SEC in an investigative capacity here. As soon as they report their findings after they talk to you, I think it's safe to assume they'll have a grand jury hearing here. They may not even ask you to be present, if the evidence is strong enough against you. If the grand jury moves for an indictment, they'll bring charges against you pretty quickly, probably arrest you, and move toward prosecution. After that, it's up to me. But there's only so much we can do. It may not even make sense to push this to trial. If the evidence is rock solid, you may do better making a deal with them, and trying to plea-bargain. If you plead guilty, we may be able to give them enough information to nail down their case against your friend in New York. If that appeals to the SEC, and they need us, you may do less time. But I don't want to mislead you. If what you say is true, and they can prove it, I think you'll go to prison, Seth. It's going to be tough, worse than tough, to get you out of this. You left a neon-lit trail behind you. We're not talking breadcrumbs here. This is big money. A sixty-million-dollar fraud is no small thing to the government. They're not going to back down on this.” He thought of something else then. “Are your taxes in order?” That would be a whole other can of worms, and Sarah had asked Seth the same question. If he had committed tax fraud too, he was going to be away for a very, very long time.

“Totally,” Seth said, looking offended. “I never cheat on my taxes.” Only his investors, and Sully's. Honor among thieves, Henry thought.

“That's good news,” Henry said drily. Seth interrupted him quickly.

“What am I looking at here, Henry? How much time could I do, worst case, if everything goes wrong?”

“Worst case?” Henry said, musing, taking all the elements into consideration, or as much as he knew for now. “It's hard to say. The law and the SEC take a dim view of defrauding investors …I don't know. Without any kind of modification or plea-bargaining, twenty-five years, maybe thirty. But that's not going to happen, Seth,” he reassured him. “We can balance out some of this with other factors. Worst case, maybe five to ten. If we're lucky, two to five. I think that would be best case in this instance. I hope we could get them down to something like that.”

“In a federal penitentiary? You don't suppose they'd agree to some kind of electronic incarceration at home? I could live with that a lot more easily than going to prison,” he said, sounding frightened. “I have a wife and kids.” Henry didn't tell him that he should have thought of that before, but it crossed his mind. Seth was thirty-seven years old, and out of sheer greed and lack of integrity, he had destroyed their lives as well as his own. This was not going to be pretty, and he didn't want to give Seth the false impression that he could save him from paying society back for what he'd done. The feds who would be involved in this didn't kid around. They hated guys like Seth who were consumed with greed and their own egos, and thought they were above the law. The governing laws on hedge funds, and institutions like them, were made to protect investors from men like him. The laws on hedge funds still had some loopholes in them, but not big enough for an offense like this. And Henry's job was to protect Seth, for better or worse. In this case, possibly worse. There was no denying it was a tough case, at best.

“I don't think keeping you at home with a bracelet is realistic,” Henry said candidly. He wasn't going to lie to him. He didn't want to frighten him unduly, but he had to tell him honestly what his chances were, as best he could assess them. “Maybe I can get you early parole. But not in the beginning. Seth, I think you have to face the fact that you're going to have to do some time. Hopefully, not too long. But given the amount that you and Sully passed around, this is going to be a big ticket, unless we can come up with something that appeals to them to make a deal. And even then, you won't get off scot free.” It was roughly what Seth had said to Sarah the morning after the earthquake. The minute it hit and their phones went down, he knew then that he was screwed. And so did she. Henry was just spelling it out for him more clearly. They went over the details again then, and Seth was truthful with him. He had to be. He needed his help, and Henry promised to be at the FBI meeting with him the following afternoon. The grand jury would be meeting in New York about Sully at exactly the same time. It was six o'clock when Henry left, and Seth came out of his office, looking drained.

He went downstairs to find Sarah in the kitchen, feeding their children. Parmani was doing laundry downstairs. Sarah looked worried as Seth walked in.

“What did he say?” Like Seth, she was hoping for a miracle. It was going to take one to save him. Seth sat down heavily in a kitchen chair, and looked miserably at his children, and then back at her. Molly was trying to show him something, and he ignored her. He had too much on his mind.

“About what I thought.” He decided to tell her the worst case first. “He said I could get up to thirty years in prison. If I'm lucky, and they want to make a deal with me, maybe two to five. I'd have to sell Sully out to do that, and I don't really want to.” He sighed then, and showed her yet another side of who he was. “But I may have to. My ass is on the line.”

“So is his.” She had never liked Sully. She thought he was sleazy, and he had always been condescending to her. She'd been right. He was a bad guy. But so was Seth. And he was willing to sell out his friend, which somehow made it seem even worse. “What if he sells you out first?” Seth hadn't thought of that. Sully was further into the process than he was. It was entirely possible that at that very moment Sully was singing to the SEC and FBI. He wouldn't put it past him. And Seth was willing to do it himself. He had already made up his mind, after everything his attorney had said. He had no intention of doing thirty years, and was willing to do everything possible now to save his hide. Even if it meant burying his friend. Sarah could see it on his face, and it made her feel sick, not that he would sell out Sully, who deserved it in her opinion, but that nothing was sacred to him, neither his investors, nor his partner in crime, nor even his wife and kids. It told her where she stood and who he was.

“What about you? Where are you in all this?” Seth asked her, looking worried, after Parmani took the children upstairs for a bath. The conversation had been over Molly's head anyway, and Ollie was a baby.

“I don't know,” Sarah said thoughtfully. Henry had told him that it would be important for her to attend the hearings and the trial. Whatever look of respectability they could give him was crucial to them now.

“I'm going to need you through the trial,” he said honestly, “and even more after that. I could be gone for a long time.” Tears filled her eyes as he said it, and she got up to put the baby's dishes in the sink. She hadn't wanted her children to see her cry, or even him. But Seth followed her to where she stood. “Don't leave me now, Sarrie. I love you. You're my wife. You can't bail on me now.” He was begging her.

“Why didn't you think of that before?” she said in a whisper as tears rolled down her cheeks, as she stood in the beautiful kitchen, in the house she loved so much. Her problem with their current state was that this wasn't about saving their house or their lifestyle, but about being married to a man who was so corrupt and so dishonest that he had destroyed their life and their future, and said he needed her now. What about what she needed from him? And their children? What if he was gone for thirty years? What would happen to all of them? What life would she and the children have?

“I was building something for us,” Seth explained to her weakly, standing near her at the sink. “I was doing it for you, Sarah, for them.” He waved vaguely toward their children upstairs. “I guess I tried to do it too quickly, and it all blew up in my face.” He hung his head and looked ashamed. But she could see that he was manipulating her now, and just as he was willing to betray his friend, this was more of the same. It was only about him. The rest of them could burn.

“You tried to do it dishonestly. That's different,” Sarah reminded him. “This wasn't about building something for us. This was about you, being a big shot and a big winner, whatever it took, at everyone else's expense, even the kids'. If you go to prison for thirty years, they'll never even know you. They'll see you once in a while for visits. For chrissake, you might as well be dead,” she said, finally angry, instead of just heartbroken and afraid.

“Thanks a lot,” Seth said, with something ugly coming to light in his eyes. “Don't count on it. I'm going to spend every penny I have paying for the best attorneys I can get, and appeal it forever if I have to.” But they both knew that sooner or later the price of his crimes would have to be paid. This last time would lead the way to all the other times he and Sully had done the same thing. They were going down, together, and hard, and Sarah didn't want him taking her and their children with him, whatever it took. “Whatever happened to ‘for better or worse'?”

“I don't think that was meant to include securities fraud and thirty years in prison,” Sarah said, her voice shaking.

“It was meant to include standing by your husband when he's up to his neck in shit. I tried to build a life for us, Sarah. A good one. A big life. I didn't hear you complaining about the ‘better’ when I bought this house and let you fill it with art and antiques, and bought you a shitload of jewelry, expensive clothes, a house in Tahoe, and a plane. I didn't hear you telling me it was too much.” She couldn't believe what he was saying to her now. Just listening to him made her feel sicker.

“I told you it was too expensive and I was worried,” she reminded him. “You did it all so fast.” But now they both knew how. He had done it with ill-begotten gains, conning investors into believing he had more than he did so they would give him more money for risky investments. And for all she knew, he had skimmed some of it off the top. Thinking about it now, she realized he probably had. He had stopped at nothing to rise to the top, and now he was going to take a fatal fall to the bottom. Maybe even fatal for her, after he destroyed their life.

“I didn't see you giving any of it back, or trying to stop me,” he reproached her, and she looked him in the eye.

“Could I have stopped you? I don't think so, Seth. I think you were driven to do what you did by your own greed and ambition, whatever it took. You crossed all the lines here, and now we all have to pay the price.”

“I'm going to be the one sitting in prison, Sarah, not you.”

“What do you expect when you do shit like this? You're not a hero, Seth, you're a con. That's all you are.” She was crying again, and he stormed out of the room and slammed the door. He didn't want to hear that from her. He wanted to know that she was going to stick by him whatever happened. It was a lot to ask, but he felt he deserved it.

It was a long, agonizing night for both of them. He stayed locked in his office till four A.M., and she stayed in the guest room. He finally lay down on their bed at five o'clock that morning, and slept till noon. He got up in time to dress for the meeting with his attorney and the FBI. Sarah had already taken the children to the park. She still didn't have a car after losing both of theirs in the earthquake, but Parmani had her ancient Honda, which they were using to do errands. Sarah had been too upset to even rent a car, and Seth wasn't going anywhere so he hadn't rented one either. He was locked up in their house, too terrified about his future to move or go out.

They were on the way back from the park when Sarah had an idea, and asked Parmani if she could borrow her car to do an errand. She told her to take the children home for their naps. The sweet-natured Nepalese woman said that Sarah was welcome to it. She knew that something was wrong, and feared that something bad was happening to them, but she had no idea what, and would never have asked. She thought maybe Seth was having an affair, or they had a problem in their marriage. It would have been inconceivable to her that Seth was about to be indicted and might go to prison, or even that they could lose their house. As far as she knew, they were young, rich, and solid, which was exactly what Sarah had thought two and a half weeks before. Now she knew they were anything but. Young maybe, but rich and solid had gone out the door with an earthquake of their own. She realized now that he would have gotten caught sooner or later. You couldn't do what he had done, and not have it come out at some point. It had been inevitable, she just hadn't known.

When Parmani lent her the car, Sarah drove straight down the hill north on Divisadero. She turned left on Marina Boulevard, and drove into the Presidio past Crissy Field. She had tried to call Maggie on her cell phone, but it was turned off. She didn't even know if Maggie was still at the field hospital there, but she needed to talk to someone, and couldn't think of who else. There was no way she could tell her parents about the disaster Seth had caused. Her mother would have been hysterical, her father furious at Seth. And if things got as bad as they feared they would, her parents would read about it soon enough. She knew she'd have to tell them before it made the news, but not yet. Right now she just needed a sane, sensible person to talk to, to pour out her heart and share her woes. She knew instinctively that Sister Maggie was the right one.

Sarah got out of the small battered Honda outside the field hospital, and walked inside. She was about to ask if Sister Mary Magdalen was still working there, when she saw her hurrying toward the back of the room, carrying a stack of surgical linens and towels that was almost taller than she was. Sarah walked back toward her, and as soon as she saw her, Maggie looked up in surprise.

“How nice to see you, Sarah. What brings you here? Are you sick?” Emergency rooms in all of the city's hospitals were fully operative again, although the field hospital in the Presidio was still in use. But it wasn't quite as busy as it had been even a few days before.

“No … I'm okay …I… I'm sorry … do you have time to talk?” Maggie saw the look in her eyes and immediately set the clean linens down on an empty bed.

“Let's go. Why don't we go sit on the beach for a few minutes? It'll do us both good. I've been here since six o'clock this morning.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said quietly, and followed her outside. They walked down the road to the path to the beach, making casual conversation. Maggie asked her how Ollie's ears were, and Sarah told her they were fine. And then finally, they reached the beach, and both sat down on the sand. They were both wearing jeans, and the bay looked shimmering and flat. It was another lovely day. It was the prettiest May Sarah could remember, although to her right now, the world seemed very dark. Particularly hers and Seth's.

“What's happening?” Maggie asked gently, watching the younger woman's face. She looked deeply troubled, and there was bottomless agony in her eyes. Maggie suspected a problem in her marriage. Sarah had hinted at something before when she brought the baby in with his earache. But whatever it was, Maggie could see it had gotten considerably worse. She looked distraught.

“I don't even know where to start.” Maggie waited, while Sarah found the words. Before she did, tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She made no move to brush them away, as the gentle nun sat beside her and silently prayed. She prayed for the burdens Sarah was carrying to be lifted from her heart. “It's Seth …,” she finally started, and Maggie wasn't surprised. “Something terrible has happened …no…he did something terrible … something very wrong … and he got caught.” Maggie couldn't even begin to imagine what it was, and wondered if he'd had an affair that Sarah had just learned about, or perhaps suspected before.

“Did he tell you about it himself?” Maggie asked gently.

“Yes, he did. The night of the earthquake, when we got home, and the next morning.” She searched Maggie's eyes before she told her the whole story, but she knew she could trust her. Maggie kept everyone's secrets to herself, and shared them only with God, when she prayed. “He did something illegal … he transferred funds he shouldn't have to his hedge fund. He was going to move them out again, but with the earthquake, all the banks were closed, so the money was sitting there. He knew it would be discovered before the banks opened again.” Maggie was silent but taken aback. This was obviously a much bigger problem than she had thought.

“And was it discovered?”

“Yes.” Sarah nodded miserably. “It was. In New York. On the Monday after the earthquake. It was reported to the SEC. And they contacted the FBI here. There's an investigation, and there will probably be a grand jury indictment and a trial.” She cut to the chase. “If he's convicted, he could go to prison for thirty years. Maybe less, but that would be worst case. And now he's talking about selling out the friend who helped him do it. He's already under investigation in New York.” She began crying harder then, and reached out and took the nun's hand in her own. “Maggie …I don't even know who he is. He's not the man I thought he was. He's a con man and a fraud. How could he do this to us?”

“Did you suspect any of it?” Maggie looked worried for her. This was indeed an awful story.

“Never. Nothing. I thought he was completely honest, and just incredibly smart and successful. I thought we spent too much money, and he kept saying we had it to spend. Now I don't even know if it was really our money or not. God only knows what else he did. Or what's going to happen now. We'll probably lose our house … but even worse, I've already lost him. He's already a condemned man. He'll never be able to get out of this. And he wants me to stand by him and stay with him. He says that's what I signed on for, ‘for better or worse’ … and what's going to happen to me and the kids if he goes to prison?” Maggie knew that she was young, and whatever happened, she could start her life again. But there was no question, this was a terrible way for things to end with Seth, if they did. It sounded terrifying even to her, with the little she knew.

“Do you want to stand by him, Sarah?”

“I don't know. I don't know what I want or what I think. I love him, but now I'm not even sure who I love, or who I've been married to for four years, or knew for two years before that. He really is a fraud. And what if I can't forgive him for what he's done?”

“That's another story,” Maggie said wisely. “You can forgive him, but decide not to stay with him. You have a right to decide who and what and how much hardship you want in your life. Forgiveness is an entirely other story, and I'm sure in time you will. It's probably too soon for you to make any major decisions. You need to sit with it for a while and see how you feel. You may decide to stay with him in the end, and stand by him, or maybe not. You don't have to make that decision right now.”

“He says I do,” Sarah said, looking grief-stricken and confused.

“That's not for him to say. It's up to you. He's asking an awful lot of you, after what he did. Have the authorities come to see him yet?”

“The FBI is with him right now. I don't know what will happen next.”

“You have to wait and see.”

“I'm not sure what I owe him, or what I owe my kids and myself. I don't want to go down the tubes with him, or be married to a man who's in prison for twenty or thirty years, or even five. I don't know if I could do it. I could end up hating him for this.”

“I hope not, Sarah, whatever you decide. You don't need to hate him, that would only poison you. He has a right to your compassion and your forgiveness, but not to ruin your life or your children's.”

“Do I owe this to him, as his wife?” Sarah's eyes were infinite pits of pain, confusion, and guilt, and Maggie felt deeply sorry for her, for them both in fact. They were in an awful mess, and whatever he'd done, she suspected that Seth was in no better shape than his wife, and she was right.

“You owe him your understanding, pity, and compassion, not your life, Sarah. You can't give him that, whatever you do. But the decision to stand by him or not is entirely yours, whatever he says. If it's better for you, and your children, you have a right to walk away. The only thing you owe him now is forgiveness. The rest is up to you. And forgiveness brings with it a state of amazing grace. That alone will bless you both in the end.” Maggie was trying to give her practical advice, colored by her own powerful beliefs, which were entirely based on mercy, forgiveness, and love. The very spirit of the risen Christ.

“I've never been in a situation like this,” Maggie admitted honestly. “I don't want to give you bad advice. I just want to tell you what I think. What you do is up to you. But it may be too soon for you to decide. If you love him, that's already a lot. But how that love manifests in the end, and how you express it, will be your choice. It may be more loving for you and your children in the end to let him go. He has to pay the price for his own mistakes, and it sounds like they were big ones. You don't. But to some degree, you will anyway. This won't be easy for you either, whatever you decide to do.”

“It already isn't. Seth says we'll probably lose the house. They could seize it. Or he may have to sell it to pay his lawyers.”

“Where would you go?” Maggie asked with a look of concern. It was obvious that Sarah felt lost, which was why she had come to see her. “Do you have family here?” Sarah shook her head.

“My parents moved to Bermuda. I can't stay with them, that's too far away. I don't want to take the kids away from Seth. And I don't want to say anything to my parents yet. I guess if we lose the house, I could get a little apartment, and I'd have to get a job. I haven't worked since we got married, because I wanted to stay home with the kids, and it's been great. But I don't think I'll have much choice. I can find a job if I have to. I have an MBA. That's how Seth and I met, at Stanford Business School.” Maggie smiled at her, and thought that her husband had certainly misused his advanced degree in business. But at least Sarah had the education to get a good job and support herself and her children if need be. That wasn't the point. The big question mark was their marriage, and Seth's future if he was prosecuted, which sounded like a sure thing. As did an eventual conviction, if what Sarah said was true, and it seemed that way.

“I think you need to give this some time, if you're willing to, and see how it shakes out. There's no question that Seth has made a shattering mistake here. Only you know if you can forgive him, and want to stay with him. Pray about it, Sarah,” she urged her. “The answers will come as things unfold. It will come clear to you, maybe sooner than you think.” Or sooner even than she wanted. Maggie reminded herself that often when she prayed for clarity in a situation, the answers were blunter and more obvious than she wanted, particularly if she didn't like them. But she didn't say that to Sarah.

“He says he'll need me at the trial,” Sarah said grimly. “I'll be there for him. I feel like I owe him that. But it's going to be so awful. He's going to look like a total criminal in the press,” which in fact he was, they both knew. “This is so humiliating.”

“Don't let pride make this decision for you, Sarah,” Maggie warned her. “Make it with love. If you do, it will bless everyone. That's really what you want here. The right answer, the right decision, the right future for you and your children, whether or not that includes Seth. He'll always have his children, he's their father, wherever he winds up in all this. The question is if he'll have you. And most important, if you want him.”

“I don't know. I don't know who ‘him’ is. I feel like I was in love with an illusion for the last six years. I have no idea who he really is. He's the last man on the planet I would have expected to commit fraud.”

“You never know,” Maggie said as they looked out at the bay. “People do strange things. Even people we think we know and love. I'm going to pray for you,” she reassured her. “And you pray too, if you can. Give it to God. Let Him try to help you figure it out.” Sarah nodded, and turned to her with a small smile.

“Thank you. I knew it would help if I talked to you. I don't know what I'm doing yet, but I feel better. I was freaking out when I came to see you.”

“Come and see me anytime, or call me. I'll be here for a while.” There was still a lot for her to do for all the people who had been displaced in the earthquake and would be living in the Presidio for many months. It was a fertile field of activity for her, and fit well with her mission as a nun. She brought love, peace, and comfort to all she touched. “Be merciful” were her final words of advice to Sarah. “Mercy is an important thing in life. That doesn't mean you have to stay with him, or give up your own life for him. But you do have to be merciful and kind to him and yourself, once you make your decision, whatever it is in the end. Love doesn't mean you have to stay with him, it only means you have to be compassionate. That's where the grace comes in. You'll know it when you're there.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said as she hugged her, as they stood outside the field hospital again. “I'll stay in touch.”

“I'll be praying for you,” Maggie reassured her, and waved with a loving smile as Sarah drove away. The time they had spent together had been just what Sarah needed.

She drove back down Marina Boulevard in Parmani's car, and south up the hill on Divisadero. She pulled up just as the two FBI agents left, and she was grateful not to have been there. She waited until they drove away, and then went in. Henry was summing things up with Seth. She waited until he had left too, and then walked into Seth's office.

“Where were you?” he asked, looking utterly exhausted.

“I needed to get some air. How was it?”

“Pretty bad,” he said solemnly. “They didn't pull any punches. They're asking for an indictment next week. This is going to be tough, Sarah. It would have been nice if you'd stuck around today.” His eyes were full of reproach. She had never seen him this needy. She remembered what Maggie had said, and tried to feel compassion for him. Whatever he had done to her indirectly, he was in a hell of a mess, and she felt sorry for him, more so than she had before she went to see Maggie that day.

“Did the FBI want to see me?” she asked, looking worried.

“No. You have nothing to do with this. I told them you knew nothing about it. You don't work for me. And they can't force you to testify against me anyway, you're my wife.” Sarah looked reassured by what he said. “I just wanted you here for me.”

“I'm here, Seth.” For now at least. It was the best she could do.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and then she left the room, and went upstairs to see her children. He didn't say anything more to her, and as soon as she walked out, he put his face in his hands and dissolved in tears.

Chapter 12

For the next ten days, Seth's life continued to unravel. His case was presented to the grand jury by the federal prosecutor, and they granted the indictment. Two days later federal agents came to arrest him. He was informed of his rights, taken to the federal courthouse, photographed, formally charged, and booked. He spent the night in jail, until bail was set by a judge the next morning.

The funds he had fraudulently deposited in the bank were returned to New York, by a court order, to cover Sully's investors. So Sully's investors had suffered no loss, but Seth's had been shown books that looked sixty million dollars fatter than they really were. And they had invested in his hedge fund accordingly, as a result of Seth's fraudulent representations to them. The nature and severity of Seth's crime caused the judge to set his bail at ten million dollars. He had to pay one million to the bail bondsman to be released on bail. That wiped out all the cash they had on hand. He was assessed as not being a flight risk, and he was eligible for bail because there had been no loss of life or physical violence involved. What he had done had been far subtler than that. They had no choice except to put their house up as bail. It was worth about fifteen million, and the night he got out of jail, he told Sarah they had to sell the house. The bail bondsman could keep ten million of it as collateral, and the other five he needed to pay his attorneys. Henry had already told him that their fee would probably be in the vicinity of three million dollars through trial. It was a complicated case. He told Sarah they had to sell the house in Tahoe too. They needed to sell as much as they could. The only good news was that they owned the house on Divisadero free and clear. There was a mortgage on Tahoe that was going to eat into their profit, but they could use the difference for his defense and related expenses.

“I'll sell my jewelry too,” she said, looking wooden. She didn't care about the jewelry, but was crushed to lose their home.

“We can rent an apartment.” He had already given up his plane. It wasn't fully paid for yet, and he had taken a loss. His hedge fund was closed. There would be no income coming in, but a lot of money going out to defend him. His sixty-million-dollar caper was liable to cost them everything they had. In addition to whatever prison sentence they gave him, if he was convicted, there would be staggering fines. And then lawsuits from his investors would wipe him out. They were becoming paupers overnight.

“I'll get my own apartment,” Sarah said quietly. She had made the decision the night before, when he was in jail. And Maggie had been right. She didn't know what else she was going to do, but it had become clear to Sarah that she didn't want to live with him right now. They might get back together later, but for now, she wanted to get an apartment for her and the children, and she was going to get a job.

“You're moving out?” Seth looked stunned. “How will that look to the FBI?” It was all he cared about right now.

“We're both moving out, as it so happens. And it'll look like you made a hell of a mistake, I'm shaken up, and we're taking a break.” All of which was true. She wasn't filing for divorce, she just wanted space. She couldn't stand being part of the process of the unraveling of their lives, because he had chosen to be a con instead of an honest man. She had been praying a lot since seeing Maggie, and she felt comfortable about what she was doing. Sad, but it felt right, just as Maggie had said it would, she knew. One step at a time.

Sarah called the real estate brokers the next day, and put the house on the market. She called the bail bondsman to tell him what they were doing, so he didn't think there was something sneaky going on. He had the deed to the house anyway. He explained to her that he had a right to approve the sale, hang on to his ten million dollars, and anything over and above that was theirs. He thanked her for the call, and didn't say it, but he felt sorry for her. He thought her husband was a jerk. Even when he'd met with him in jail, Seth was pompous and full of himself. The bail bondsman had seen others like him before. They were always run by their egos, and wound up screwing over their families and wives. He wished her good luck with the sale.

After that, she spent her days calling people she knew in the city and Silicon Valley, looking for a job. She wrote up a ré sumé, which gave the details of her MBA program at Stanford, and her work on Wall Street in an investment banking firm. She was willing to take anything—trader, analyst. She was willing to get a stockbroker's license, or work in a bank. She had the credentials and the brains, all she needed was the job. And meanwhile, out of both curiosity and real interest, potential buyers were crawling all over their house.

Seth got himself a penthouse in what was referred to as the Heartbreak Hotel on Broadway. It was a modern apartment building, full of small, expensive furnished apartments, heavily populated by men who had just broken up with their wives. Sarah got a small cozy flat in a Victorian on Clay Street. It had two bedrooms, one for her, and one for the children. It had parking space for one car, and a tiny garden. Rents had plummeted since the earthquake, and she got it at a good price, and it would be hers on the first of June.

She went to see Maggie in the Presidio to tell her what she was doing. Maggie was sorry for her, but impressed that she was moving forward and making cautious, wise decisions. Seth went out and bought a new Porsche to replace the Ferrari he'd lost, on some sort of deal with no money down, which infuriated his lawyer. He told him this was a time to be humble and not showy. He had hurt a lot of people with the deals he'd made, and the judge was not going to be favorably impressed by his flamboyance. Sarah bought a used Volvo station wagon to replace her crushed Mercedes. Her jewelry had gone to Los Angeles to sell. She still had said nothing to her parents, who wouldn't have been able to help her anyway, but would at least have been supportive. And so far, by some miracle, Seth's indictment hadn't appeared in the press, nor had Sully's, but she knew it wouldn't be long. And then the shit would hit the fan, even more than it already had.

Everett spent days after the earthquake editing pictures. He had turned in the most relevant ones to Scoop magazine, and they had printed a whole section on the San Francisco earthquake. And predictably, they had put one of Melanie in camouflage pants on the cover. They had printed only one of Maggie, and identified her as a nun volunteering in a field hospital in San Francisco after the quake.

He sold other photographs to USA Today, the AP, one to The New York Times, and several to Time and Newsweek. Scoop had allowed him to do that, as they had far more than they could use, and they didn't want to overdo it on the earthquake. They liked the celebrity aspect a lot better, and had run six pages on Melanie, and only three on the rest. Everett had written the article himself, with high praise for residents and the city. He had a copy of the magazine he wanted to send to Maggie. But more than that, he had dozens of absolutely spectacular photographs of her. She looked luminous in shots of her ministering to injured people. There was one of her holding a crying child, and comforting an old man with a gash on his head in the dim light … several of her laughing with her bright blue eyes when she'd just been talking to him … and one he had shot of her as they drove away on the bus when the look in her eyes was so sad and bereft, it almost made him cry. He had clipped up photographs of her all over his apartment. She watched him as he ate breakfast in the morning, sat at his desk at night, or lay on the couch and stared at her for hours. He wanted to make copies of them for her, and he finally did. He wasn't sure where to send them. He had called her several times on her cell phone, and she never answered. She had returned his call twice, and then had missed him. They had been playing phone tag, and both of them were busy, but as a result, he hadn't spoken to her since he left. He was missing her terribly, and he wanted her to see how beautiful the photographs of her were, and show her some of the others.

He was home alone on a Saturday night, when he finally decided to go up to San Francisco and see her. He had no assignments for the next few days. And on Sunday morning, he got up at the crack of dawn, took a cab to LAX, and hopped a plane to San Francisco. He hadn't warned her, and hoped he'd find her at the Presidio, if nothing had changed in the weeks since he'd left.

The plane landed at ten A.M. in San Francisco. He hailed a cab at the curb, and gave the driver the address. He had the box of photographs under his arm to show to her. It was nearly eleven when they reached the Presidio and he noticed the helicopters still patrolling overhead. He stood staring up at the field hospital, hoping she was inside. He was well aware that what he'd just done was a little crazy. But he had to see her. He had missed her ever since he left.

The volunteer at the front desk told him that Maggie was off today. It was Sunday, and the woman who knew her well said she had probably gone to church. He thanked her and decided to check the building where the religious volunteers and assorted chaplains were living. There were two nuns and a priest standing on the front step when he asked for Maggie, and one of the nuns said she'd go inside and check. Everett's heart sank as he stood and waited, and it seemed to take forever. And then suddenly she was standing there, in a terrycloth bathrobe, with her bright blue eyes, and soaking-wet red hair. She said she'd been in the shower. She broke into a smile the minute she saw him, and he nearly cried he was so relieved to see her. For a minute, he'd been afraid he wouldn't find her, but there she was. He swept her up in a warm hug, and nearly dropped the box of photographs. He stepped back to look at her as he beamed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, as the other nuns and the priest walked away. Deep friendships had formed for all of them during the initial days after the earthquake, so they saw nothing unusual about the visit or the obvious delight with which they greeted each other. One of the nuns remembered him from when he'd been at the camp, before he went back to L.A., and Maggie said she'd catch up with them later. They'd already been to church, and were heading to the mess hall for lunch. It was beginning to feel like an eternal summer camp for adults. Everett had been impressed on his way in by some of the improvements he already saw in the city after just a couple of weeks. But the refugee camp in the Presidio was still going strong.

“Are you here to do a story?” Maggie asked him, and then they both spoke at once, in their excitement to see each other. “I'm sorry I keep missing your calls. I turn my phone off when I'm at work.”

“I know … I'm sorry … I'm so glad to see you,” he said, and hugged her again. “I just came up to see you. I had so many photographs to show you, and I didn't know where to send them, so I decided to bring them up myself. I brought you a full set of everything I got.”

“Let me put some clothes on,” she said, running a hand through her short, wet hair, smiling broadly.

She was back five minutes later, in jeans, her pink Converse, and a T-shirt from Barnum & Bailey's Circus, with a tiger on it. He laughed at the incongruous shirt, which she had picked up on the donation table. She was definitely a most unusual nun. And she was dying to see his photographs. They walked a few feet away to a bench, and sat down to look at them. Her hands were shaking when she opened the box, and when she saw them, she was moved to tears several times, and just as often laughter, as they both remembered the moments and faces, the heart-rending times. There were photographs of the woman he'd watched taken out from under her house, after they had to cut her leg off to free her, others of children, and a huge number of Melanie, but far more of Maggie. At least half his photographs were of her, and she exclaimed as she looked at each one … oh, I remember that! … oh my God, remember him? … oh that poor kid … that sweet little old lady. There were photographs of the destruction of the city, the night of the benefit when it had all started. It was an exquisite chronicle of a frightening but deeply moving time in both their lives. “Oh Everett, they're so beautiful,” she said, looking at him with her bright blue eyes. “Thank you for bringing them to show me. I've thought of you so often, and hoped everything was fine.” His messages had been reassuring, but she had missed talking to him, almost as much as he missed talking to her.

“I missed you, Maggie,” he said honestly, after they finished looking at the pictures. “I have no one to talk to when you're not around, not really.” He hadn't realized how empty his life was until he met her and then left.

“I missed you too,” she confessed. “Have you been going to meetings? The one you started here is still going strong.”

“I've been going to two a day. Do you want to go out to lunch?” A few of the fast food places on Lombard Street had opened. He suggested they pick up something to eat and walk to the Marina Green. It was a gorgeous day. And from there, they could look at the bay and watch the boats. They could do that on the Presidio beach too, but he thought it would do her good to get out, walk, get some air, and leave the Presidio for a change. She had been cooped up in the hospital all week.

“I'd love that.” They couldn't go far without a car, but Lombard was within easy walking distance. She went back for a sweater, left the photographs that were his gift to her in her room, and a few minutes later they left.

They walked along in comfortable silence for a while, and then chatted about what they'd been doing. She told him about what was happening in the reconstruction of the city, and her work in the hospital. He told her about the assignments he'd been on. He had brought her a copy of the earthquake edition of Scoop too, with all the photographs of Melanie, and they talked about what a nice girl she was. At the first fast food place they saw, they bought sandwiches and then headed toward the bay. And finally they sat down on the vast expanse of grass at the Marina Green. Maggie didn't say anything to him about Sarah's problems, because that had been told to her in confidence. She'd heard from Sarah several times by then, and things were not going well. She knew Seth had been arrested, and was out on bail. And she said they were selling the house. It was a terrible time for Sarah, who didn't deserve any of what had happened to her.

“What are you going to do when you leave the Presidio?” Everett asked Maggie as they ate their sandwiches, and then lay on the grass facing each other, like two kids in the summer. She didn't look anything like a nun in her circus T-shirt and pink high-tops, as she lay on the grass talking to him. Sometimes he forgot she was.

“I don't think I'll be leaving for a while, maybe not for months. It's going to take a long time to get all these people housing again.” So much of the city had been destroyed. It could take as long as a year to rebuild, or more. “After that, I guess I'll go back to the Tenderloin, and do the same old stuff.” As she said it, she suddenly realized how repetitious her life was. She had been working on the streets with the homeless for years. But it had always felt right to her. Now suddenly she wanted more, and she was enjoying hospital nursing again.

“You don't want more than that, Maggie? Your own life someday?”

“This is my life,” she said gently, smiling at him. “This is what I do.”

“I know. Me too. I take photographs for a living, for magazines and newspapers. It's been strange since I went back, though. Something shook me up when I was here. I just feel like there's something missing in my life.” And then as he looked at her as they lay there, he spoke softly. “Maybe it's you.” She didn't know what to say in answer. She just looked at him for a long moment and then lowered her eyes.

“Be careful, Everett,” she said in a whisper. “I don't think we should go there.” She had thought of it too.

“Why not?” he said stubbornly. “What if you change your mind one day and don't want to be a nun anymore?”

“What if I don't? I love being a nun. That's all I've ever been since I left nursing school. It was all I wanted as a kid. This is my dream, Everett. How can I give that up?”

“What if you trade it for something else? You could do the same kind of work if you left the convent. You could be a social worker, or nurse practitioner with the homeless.” He had thought about it from every angle.

“I do all that, and I'm a nun. You know how I feel about it.” He was scaring her, and she wanted him to stop before they said too much and she felt she couldn't see him again. She didn't want that to happen, and if he went too far, it could. She had to live by her vows. She was still a nun, whether he liked it or not.

“I guess I'll just have to keep coming up to visit you then, to bug you from time to time. Is that okay with you?” He tried to back off and smiled at her in the bright sunshine.

“I'd like that, as long as we don't do anything foolish,” she reminded him, relieved that he didn't press her further.

“And what would that be? Define foolish for me.” He was pushing her and she knew it, but she was a big girl and could take care of herself.

“It would be foolish if you or I forgot that I'm a nun. But we won't do that,” she said firmly. “Isn't that right, Mr. Allison?” she said, referring to the old Deborah Kerr‐ Robert Mitchum movie with a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Everett said, rolling his eyes. “In the end, I go back to the Marines, and you stay a nun, just like in the movie. Don't you know any movies where the nun leaves the convent?”

“I don't go to see those,” she said primly. “I go to the ones where the nun keeps her vows.”

“I hate those,” he said, teasing her. “They're so boring.”

“No, they're not. They're very noble.”

“I wish you weren't so noble, Maggie,” he said gently, “and so true to your vows.” He didn't dare say more, and she didn't answer. He was pushing. And she changed the subject.

They lay in the sun until the late afternoon, and could see building and reconstruction starting in the areas behind them. They walked back to the Presidio, as the air got cool, and she invited him to eat something in the mess hall before he left. She told him that Tom had gone back to Berkeley to close up his apartment. But many of the same faces were still there from before Everett left.

They both had soup, and he walked her back to her building after they ate, and she thanked him for the visit.

“I'll come up and see you again,” he promised. He had taken a few pictures of her that day, as she lay in the sun talking to him. Her eyes had been the same color as the sky.

“Take care of yourself,” she told him, as she had before. “I'll be praying for you.” He nodded and kissed her cheek. It was as soft as velvet. She had an ageless quality to her, and looked amazingly young, in her silly circus shirt.

She watched as he walked away, and saw him leave through the main gate. He had the familiar gait she had come to recognize, in his black lizard cowboy boots. He waved once, then turned toward Lombard to find a cab to take him back to the airport, and she went upstairs to her room to look at his photographs again. They were beautiful. He had an extraordinary talent. But more than that, there was something about his soul that drew her to him. She didn't want it to be so, but she was powerfully attracted to him, not just as a friend, but as a man. That had never happened to her, in all of her adult life, since she had entered the convent. He touched something in her that she had no idea had ever been in her, and maybe until Everett, it wasn't. But it troubled her deeply.

She closed the box of photographs and set it on the bed beside her. And then she lay down and closed her eyes. She didn't want this to be happening to her. She couldn't let herself fall in love with him. It was impossible. And she told herself it was not going to happen.

She lay there praying for a long time, before the other nuns came back to the room she shared with them. She had never prayed as fervently in her life, and all she kept saying to herself over and over again was “Please, God, don't let me love him.” All she could do was hope that God would hear her. She knew she could not let this happen, and she kept reminding herself that she belonged to God.

Chapter 13

Tom got to Pasadena and his family a week after Melanie left San Francisco, and he called her as soon as he arrived. He had packed up his apartment in two days, put everything in his van, which had been miraculously unharmed, and drove south. He could hardly wait to see Melanie again.

He spent his first evening at home with his parents and sister, who'd been worried sick about him during the earthquake. They wanted to hear all about it, and he had a very pleasant evening with them. He told his sister he was taking her to a concert soon, and then headed to Hollywood immediately after breakfast the next day. He mentioned as he left that he probably wouldn't be back until late that night. At least he hoped not. Melanie had invited him over to spend the day with her, and he was planning to take her out to dinner afterward. After having such easy access to her at the Presidio, he had missed her terribly once she was gone, and he wanted to spend all the time with her that he could now, particularly knowing she was leaving on tour in July. He had to get busy himself. It was obvious the job in San Francisco wasn't going to work out. In the aftermath of the earthquake, there would be long delays, and he had decided to look for a job in L.A.

Melanie was waiting for him when he arrived. She saw him drive up, and buzzed him in through the gate. He pulled up in his van, and she ran out to greet him with a huge smile. Pam noticed him when she glanced outside, and she smiled too when she saw them kissing. And then they disappeared into the house, as Melanie showed him around. They had a gym, a pool table in a playroom downstairs, and a wide-screen TV with comfortable chairs to watch movies, and a huge pool. Melanie had told him to bring a bathing suit. But the only thing he was interested in seeing was her. He put his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips, and time stood still for both of them.

“I missed you so much,” he said, smiling happily. “Camp was awful after you left. I kept hanging around and bugging Maggie. She said she really missed you too.”

“I have to call her. I miss her too … and I missed you,” Melanie whispered, and then they giggled as the cleaning service people came clattering down the stairs. She took him upstairs then to see her room. It looked almost like a child's room to him with the pink and white decor her mother had arranged. There were photographs of her with actors, actresses, and other singers, most of them very well known. There was a photograph of her receiving the Grammy, which her mother had framed for her. There were photographs of her favorite rappers and stars. He followed her back out, and down the back stairs to the kitchen, where they both helped themselves to sodas and then went outside to sit by the pool.

“How did the recording session go?” He was fascinated by what she did, without being unduly impressed by her stardom. He had gotten to know her as a normal person, and he liked it that way. He was relieved to see that she hadn't changed, and was the same adorable girl he'd met and fallen in love with in San Francisco. If anything, they were even more in love. She was wearing shorts, a tank top, and sandals instead of the flip-flops she'd worn in camp, but her appearance was the same. She was no more done up or starlike than she had been when he first met her. She was totally herself, as she sat next to him on a deck chair, and then at the edge of the pool dangling her feet. He still had a hard time believing that she was the world-famous star he knew she was. It meant nothing to him. And Melanie could sense that about him, just as she had in San Francisco. He was entirely genuine, and oblivious to her fame.

They were sitting at the pool, talking quietly. She was telling him about her recording session, when her mother drove into the driveway, and then stopped at the pool to see what her daughter was doing and with whom. She looked anything but pleased to see Tom. And her greeting wasn't warm.

“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly as Melanie looked embarrassed, and he stood up to shake her mother's hand. Janet looked unimpressed.

“I just got back to Pasadena yesterday,” he explained. “I thought I'd come and say hi.” Janet nodded and shot a look at Melanie. She hoped he wouldn't stay long. There was nothing about him that appealed to Janet as a suitable escort for her daughter. It didn't matter to Janet that he was well educated, came from a nice family, and would presumably have a decent job once he got situated in L.A., that he was a kind, compassionate person, and loved her daughter. A nice boy from Pasadena was of no interest to her, and she made it clear without spelling it out that she didn't approve of his being there to visit her. Two minutes after she'd arrived, Janet walked into the house and slammed the door. “I don't think she was too pleased to see me,” he said, looking embarrassed, and Melanie apologized for her mother, as she often did.

“She'd like it better if you were some half-baked movie star on drugs, as long as you're in the tabloids at least twice a week, and preferably stay out of jail. Unless it gets you really good press.” She laughed at her description of her mother, which he suspected was painfully accurate.

“I've never been in jail or the tabloids,” he said apologetically. “She must think I'm a real dud.”

“I don't,” Melanie said, as she sat close to him and looked into his eyes. Melanie liked everything about him so far, especially the fact that he wasn't part of any of the Hollywood nonsense. She had come to hate the problems she'd had with Jake. His drinking, going to rehab, winding up in the tabloids with him, and the time he'd punched someone out in a bar. Paparazzi had appeared on the scene in an instant, and he'd been taken away by the police while flashes from the photographers went off in her face. And even more than that, she hated what he had done with Ashley. She hadn't spoken to him since they got back, and didn't plan to again. In contrast, Tom was honorable, decent, wholesome, well behaved, and cared about her. “Want to go for a swim?” He nodded. He didn't care what he did, as long as it was with her. He was a regular, healthy twenty-two-yearold boy. In fact, nicer, smarter, and better-looking than most. He was someone with a future, Melanie could tell. Not the kind of future her mother wanted for her, but the kind Melanie wanted to be part of when she grew up, and even now. He was down to earth, and real, just as she was. There was nothing fake about him. He was as far from the Hollywood scene as you could get.

She showed him to the cabana at the end of the pool, and the room where he could change. He came out a minute later, wearing a Hawaiian-style bathing suit. He had gone surfing there at Easter with friends, in Kauai. Melanie went into the cabana after him, and came out in a pink bikini that showed off her dazzling figure. She had been working with her trainer again since she got back. It was part of her daily drill. As were two hours every day in the gym. She had been going to rehearsal every day too, getting ready for the concert in June. It was going to be at the Hollywood Bowl, and it was already sold out. It would have been anyway, but after the story about her in Scoop, about surviving the San Francisco earthquake, tickets had sold even faster than before. They were being sold by scalpers now for five thousand dollars a ticket. She had two, with backstage passes, reserved for him and his sister.

They swam together and kissed in the pool, and then drifted around on a large inflatable raft as they lay side by side in the sun. She had put tons of sunscreen on. She wasn't allowed to get a tan—it looked too dark in the lights on stage. Her mother preferred her pale. But it was nice lying on the raft with Tom. They lay in silence for a while just holding hands. It was all very innocent and friendly. She felt incredibly comfortable with him, just as she had when she spent time with him in the camp.

“The concert's going to be really cool,” she said when they talked about it. She told him about the special effects and the songs she was going to sing. He knew them all, and he told her again that his sister would go nuts. He said he hadn't told her yet whose concert it was, or that they'd be going backstage to visit her after the show.

When they got tired of lying in the sun, they went inside and made lunch. Janet was sitting in the kitchen, smoking, talking on the phone, and glancing at a gossip magazine. She was disappointed not to see Melanie in it. So as not to disturb her, they took their sandwiches outside, and sat at a table under an umbrella near the pool. Afterward they lay in a hammock together, and she told Tom in a whisper that she'd been trying to figure out how she could do volunteer work, like what she'd done at the Presidio. She wanted to do more with her life than just go to rehearsals and sing.

“Do you have any ideas?” he asked her in the same whisper.

“Nothing my mom would let me do.” They were co-conspirators as they talked in hushed tones, and then he kissed her again. The more he saw her, the crazier he was about her. He could hardly believe his luck, not because of who she was, but because she was such a sweet, unassuming girl, and fun to be with. “Sister Maggie told me about a priest who runs a Catholic mission. He goes to Mexico for a few months every year. I'd love to call him, but I don't think I could ever do that. I've got my tour, and my agent is lining up engagements till the end of the year. We'll be starting on next year soon.” She sounded disappointed as she said it. She was tired of traveling so much, and she wanted time to spend with him.

“Will you be away a lot?” He looked worried about it too. They had just found each other, and he wanted time to be with her. It was going to get complicated for him, too, once he found a job. They'd both be busy.

“I'm gone about four months a year. Sometimes five. Otherwise I just fly in and out, like I did for the benefit in San Francisco. I'm only gone a couple of nights for gigs like that.”

“I was thinking that maybe I could fly up to see you in Vegas, and maybe I could hit some of the hot spots on your tour. Where are you going?” He was trying to figure out ways for them to see each other. He didn't want to wait till early September when she got back. It seemed centuries away to both of them. They had gotten so close to each other during the aftermath of the earthquake in San Francisco that their feelings for each other had hit “fast forward” in a way they wouldn't have otherwise. She was going to be gone for ten weeks, which was a standard tour, although it seemed an eternity now, to both of them. And her agent wanted her to tour Japan next year. Her CDs flew off the shelves in Japan. She had just the look and sound they loved.

She laughed when he asked her where she was going on tour, and started reeling off cities. She was going to be traveling all across the States. But at least they would be traveling by chartered plane. It had been agonizing during the years they did it on a bus. Sometimes they had traveled all night. In fact, most of the time. Her life and tours were a lot more civilized now. When she told him the dates, he said he hoped to be able to visit her once or twice on tour. It depended on how fast he found a job, but it sounded great to her.

They dove back into the pool then and swam laps until they were too winded to do it anymore. He was in fantastic shape and was an excellent swimmer. He said he had been on the swimming team at UCB, and had played soccer for a while till he hurt his knee. He showed her the small scar of a minor surgery. He talked about his college years, and childhood before that, and of his career plans. He wanted to go to graduate school eventually, but was planning to work for several years first. He had it all mapped out. Tom knew where he was going, more than most young men his age.

They discovered that they both loved skiing, tennis, water sports, and a variety of other athletic pursuits, most of which she had no time for. She explained to him that she had to stay in shape, but actual sports were never on her agenda. She was too busy, and her mother didn't want her to get hurt, and be unable to go on tour. She made a fortune doing tours, although she didn't spell that out to Tom. She didn't have to. The money she pulled in now was outrageous, as he could only guess. She was far too discreet to say it, although Janet hinted often at how much money her daughter made. It still embarrassed Melanie, and her agent had warned Janet to be discreet, or it would put Melanie at risk. They had enough security headaches as it was, keeping her safe from her fans. It was something every major star in Hollywood had to think about these days—no one was exempt. Janet always minimized the dangers when talking to her daughter, so as not to frighten her, but often used a bodyguard herself. She pointed out that fans were dangerous sometimes. What she often forgot was that the fans were Melanie's, not hers.

“Do you ever get threatening letters?” he asked, as they lay drying off by the pool. He'd never thought about what it involved to protect someone in her position. Life had been so much simpler for her in the Presidio, but not for long. And he had had no idea that some of the men in her entourage were bodyguards who traveled with her.

“Sometimes,” she said vaguely. “I have. The only people who threaten me are nuts. I don't think they'd ever do anything about it. Some of them have written to me for several years.”

“To threaten you?” He looked horrified.

“Yes,” she laughed. It came with the territory, and she was used to it. She even got scary, passionate fan letters from men in maximum security prisons. She never responded. That was how stalkers happened, when they got out. She was extremely cautious about not wandering around public places on her own, and when she took them with her, her guards took good care of her. Whenever possible, she preferred not to use them when she was running around L.A. doing errands or visiting friends, and she said she preferred to drive herself.

“Does all of that ever scare you?” Tom asked, with ever-increasing concern. He wanted to protect her but wasn't quite sure how.

“Not usually. Once in a while, depending on what the police say about the stalker. I've had my share, but no worse than anyone else here. It used to scare me when I was younger, but it really doesn't anymore. The only stalkers I worry about now are press. They can eat you alive. You'll see,” she warned him, but he couldn't see how it would ever involve him. He was still naї ve about a life like hers and all it entailed. There were definitely some downsides, but lying in the sun with her and talking, everything seemed so simple, and she was just like any other girl.

They went for a drive in the late afternoon. He took her out for ice cream, and she showed him where she'd gone to school before she dropped out. She told him she still wanted to go to college, but for now it was only a dream for her, and not a possibility. She was away too much, so she read everything she could get her hands on. They stopped at a bookstore together and found they liked to read the same things, and had loved many of the same books.

They drove back to her house then, and later, he took her out for dinner at a little Mexican restaurant she liked, and afterward they went back to her place and watched a movie in the playroom downstairs on the gigantic plasma screen. It was almost like being in a theater. When Janet came home, she seemed surprised he was still there. Tom looked mildly uncomfortable, sensing her displeasure. She made no effort to hide it. It was eleven o'clock when he left. Melanie walked him out to his van in the driveway, and they stood kissing through his window. He said he'd had a wonderful day, and so had she. It had been a very respectable and thoroughly enjoyable first date. He said he'd call her the next day, and instead called her as soon as he left the driveway. Her cell phone rang in her pocket just as she was walking back into the house, thinking of him.

“I miss you already,” he said as she giggled.

“Me too. It was so much fun today. I hope you weren't bored just hanging around here.” It was hard for her to get out sometimes. People recognized her everywhere. It had been fine when they went out for ice cream, but people in the bookstore had stared at her, and three people had asked her for autographs while they paid. She hated that whenever she went out on dates. It always felt like an intrusion and bothered the man she was with. Tom had been amused.

“I had a great time,” he reassured her. “I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can do something this weekend.”

“I love going to Disneyland,” she confessed. “It makes me feel like a kid again. But it's too crowded this time of year. It's better in winter.”

“You are a kid,” he said, smiling. “A really terrific kid. Goodnight, Melanie.”

“ 'Night, Tom,” she said, and hung up with a happy smile. Her mother came out of her room then and saw her, as Melanie headed toward hers.

“What was that all about today?” Janet asked, still looking disgruntled. “He was here all day. Don't start something with him, Mel. He doesn't live in your world.” It was precisely what Melanie liked about him. “He's just using you for who you are.”

“No, he's not, Mom,” Melanie said hotly, outraged on his behalf. Tom wasn't that kind of guy. “He's a decent, normal person. He doesn't care who I am.”

“That's what you think,” Janet said cynically. “And if you go out with him, you'll never be in the press again, and that's not good for your career.”

“I'm tired of hearing about my career, Mom,” Melanie said, looking sad. It was all her mother talked about. Melanie had dreams about her sometimes, brandishing a whip. “There's more to life than that.”

“Not if you want to be a big star.”

“I am a big star, Mom. I still need to have a life. And Tom is a really nice guy. He's a hell of a lot nicer than the Hollywood types I've gone out with.”

“You just haven't met the right one,” she said firmly, unmoved by Melanie's sentiments about Tom.

“Are there any?” Melanie shot back. “None of them seem right to me.”

“And he does?” Janet inquired, looking worried. “You don't even know him. He was just another face in that frigging awful refugee camp.” Janet still had dreams about it, and none of them were pleasant. They had all been traumatized to some degree, particularly when the quake hit. She had never been so happy to be sleeping in her own bed again in her entire life.

Melanie didn't say to her that she didn't think the camp was awful. The only really awful thing, as far as Melanie was concerned, was her supposed boyfriend sleeping with her alleged best friend. Now both had been disposed of, without regret on Melanie's part. Only her mother's. She still talked to Ashley at least once a day, promising to patch things up with Melanie, who had no idea they were talking regularly.

Melanie had no intention of allowing Ashley back into her life. Nor Jake. The arrival of Tom in her world seemed to be her reward for losing them. She said goodnight to her mother, and walked slowly down the hall to her own room, thinking of Tom. It had been a truly flawless first date.

Chapter 14

Tom came to see Melanie several more times. They went to dinners, movies, and relaxed at her pool, despite her mother's obvious disapproval. Janet barely spoke to Tom, although he was extremely polite to her. He brought his sister over once to meet Melanie. The three of them barbecued at the pool, and had a great time. His sister was extremely impressed by Melanie, how simple she was, open and kind and understanding. There was nothing in her behavior to suggest she was a star. She really did act like the girl next door. She was thrilled when Melanie invited them to her Hollywood Bowl concert in June.

They hadn't slept with each other. They had both agreed to take things slowly, see what happened, and get to know each other first. She was still feeling bruised by Jake, and Tom didn't rush her. He kept saying they had time. They always had fun together. He brought over all his favorite movies and CDs, and shortly after she'd met his sister Nancy, he took Melanie to Pasadena to dinner. Melanie thought his parents were adorable. They were genuine, nice, friendly people. They had intelligent conversations, were well educated, liked each other, and were very respectful of her, and sensitive about her being who she was. They didn't make a fuss, they welcomed her in as they would have any of their children's friends—unlike Janet, who still acted like Tom was an intruder, or worse. Janet made every effort to be unpleasant to him, but he told Melanie he didn't mind. He realized that she thought he was a threat, and not the kind of man Melanie should go out with, particularly if her mother wanted tabloids and mainstream press for her, which she did. Melanie apologized to him constantly for her mother, and started spending more time in Pasadena, when she wasn't in rehearsal.

He came to rehearsal with her twice, and was incredibly impressed by how professional she was. Her career was no accident of fate. She was brilliant at all the technical details, did her own arrangements, wrote some of her songs, and worked unbelievably hard. Both rehearsals Tom went to, for the Hollywood Bowl concert, lasted until two A.M., until Melanie felt they had it right. The technicians he talked to, as he wandered around, said she always did that. Sometimes she worked till four or five A.M., and then wanted them back at nine the next morning. She drove them hard, but she was even harder on herself. And Tom thought she had the voice of an angel.

The day of the concert, she had told him he could come early, and he and Nancy could stay in her dressing room with her until it started. He took her at her word, and when they got there, Janet was with Melanie, hovering, and giving orders and directions. She was drinking champagne and getting her own makeup done. Sometimes photographers wanted her to pose too. She ignored Tom and Nancy for as long as she could, and then stormed off to find Melanie's hairdresser, who was smoking outside with some of the men in the band. They knew Tom by name now, and thought he was a nice guy.

They left her half an hour before the concert started. Melanie had to finish her makeup and put on her costume. Tom thought she was amazingly calm, considering she was about to perform in front of eighty thousand people. This was what she did best. She was introducing four new songs to try them out before her tour. She was leaving soon. Tom had promised to visit whenever he could, although he was starting a job in July that he was excited about. It was with Bechtel, and they had promised some travel abroad. He said it would keep him busy while Melanie was gone, and it was much better than the job he'd had lined up in San Francisco before the earthquake. This one had just fallen into his lap, through some connections of his father's. And it had some major career opportunities for him. In fact, if they were pleased with his performance, they would consider paying for business school.

“Good luck, Mel,” Tom whispered as he left her dressing room. “You'll be fantastic.” She had given them seats in the front row. When he left, she slithered into a skin-tight red satin dress, checked her makeup and hair, and put on mile-high silver platform sandals. She had six costume changes to do, with a single intermission. She was going to be working hard.

“I'm going to sing one of the new songs for you,” she whispered, and he kissed her. “You'll know which one. I just wrote it. I hope you like it.”

“I love you,” he said, as her eyes grew wide. It was the first time he had said it to her, even more amazing since they hadn't made love yet. It seemed almost irrelevant at this point, they were still getting to know each other and having a wonderful time.

“I love you too,” she answered, and then he slipped out of Melanie's dressing room as her mother stormed in, reminding her that she had less than twenty minutes, and to stop dicking around and get ready. There were four photographers right behind her, waiting to take Melanie's photograph.

Her mother helped her zip up her dress, and Melanie thanked her. And then Pam let the photographers in. Janet posed with her in two of the shots. Melanie was dwarfed beside her. Janet was a big woman, and a major presence wherever she was.

And then suddenly, they came to get Melanie. The concert was about to begin. She ran backstage, hopping nimbly over the wires and equipment, said a quick hello to her band, stood just out of sight, and closed her eyes. She took three long, slow breaths, and then she heard her cue, and drifted slowly into view through smoke. As the smoke cleared, there she was. She looked out into the audience with the sexiest smile Tom had ever seen and purred hello. This was nothing like rehearsal, or the girl he'd brought home to dinner in Pasadena. As Melanie worked her audience and sang her heart out till the rafters nearly shook, she was every inch and fiber of her being a star. The lights were too bright for her to see Tom or his sister in the audience. But in her heart, she felt him out there, and was singing for him that night.

“Wow!” Nancy said, touching her brother's arm, and he turned to her with a smile. “She's amazing!”

“She sure is,” he said proudly. He couldn't tear his eyes off her until intermission, and then rushed back to her dressing room to see her and tell her how great she was. He was thrilled to be there with her, and loved her performance. He couldn't say enough great things about her and to her. Melanie realized that this was so different from dating someone in show business. Tom was never jealous of her. They kissed quickly and then he went back to his seat. She had to change clothes again, and this was a tough costume change. Pam and her mother helped her into the skin-tight dress. It was even tighter than the ones she'd worn before, and she looked fabulous when she stepped onstage again for the second act.

They did seven encores that night. She always did them to please her fans. And they had loved the new song she had written to Tom. It was called “When I Found You,” and was all about their first days together in San Francisco. It talked about the bridge, the beach, and the earthquake in her heart. He listened to it raptly, and his sister had tears in her eyes as she listened.

“Is that you?” she whispered. He nodded, and she shook her head in amazement. Whatever their relationship was going to be over time, it had clearly gotten started like a rocket shooting into space, and it was showing no signs of slowing down.

They joined Melanie afterward in her dressing room when it was over. This time there were dozens of people congratulating her, photographers, her assistant, her mother, friends, groupies who had somehow wormed their way in. Tom and Nancy were crushed in the crowd, and afterward they went to Spago for dinner, although they arrived late because it took a while to get there. Wolfgang Puck had prepared their meal himself.

After dinner, Tom and Nancy went back to Pasadena, and he kissed Melanie before he left. He promised to come and see her in the morning, then they all dispersed. It had been a long night. There was a mile-long white stretch limousine waiting for her outside. It was anything but discreet, but this was her public persona, the one he had never seen before. It was the private Melanie that he loved, but he had to admit that this one was fun too.

He called her on her cell phone right after she got home, and told her again how fabulous she had been. She had made a diehard fan out of him, especially with the song she'd written just for them. It sounded like another Grammy winner to him.

“I'll be over first thing in the morning,” he promised. They were trying to spend as much time together as they could, before she left for Vegas in a week.

“We can read the reviews together when you get here. I hate that part. They always find something to bitch about.”

“I don't see how they can this time.”

“They will,” she said, sounding like the pro she was. “Jealousy sucks.” Often bad reviews were more about that than a bad performance, but the criticism hurt anyway, even if she was used to it. It always hurt. Sometimes her mother or Pam hid reviews from her if they were really rude, which happened sometimes too.

When Tom arrived the next day, there were newspapers spread out all over their kitchen table.

“So far so good,” Melanie whispered to Tom, as her mother handed them to her one by one. She looked pleased.

“They like the new songs,” her mother commented, glancing at Tom with a frosty smile. Even she had to admit the one to him was good.

All in all, the reviews were great. The concert had been a huge hit, which would bode well for her concert tour, and even the show in Vegas, which was smaller and was already sold out, just as the one at the Hollywood Bowl had been.

“So what are you two kids doing today?” Janet asked, glancing at both of them, looking pleased, as though she had played the concert herself. It was the first time she had willingly included Tom in anything she said. They had turned a corner, although Melanie didn't know why. Maybe she was just in a good mood, or had finally figured out that Tom didn't want to interfere with Melanie's career. He was happy to watch the goings-on, and support whatever she did.

“I just want to relax,” Melanie said. She had to be in the recording studio again the next day. And they were starting rehearsals for the show in Vegas the day after. “What are you doing, Mom?”

“I'm going to go shopping on Rodeo,” she beamed. Nothing made her happier than Melanie performing at a huge concert and getting great reviews the next day.

She left them alone without dark looks or slamming doors this time, much to Tom's surprise.

“I think your initiation may finally be over,” Melanie said with a sigh. “For now anyway. She must have decided you're not a threat.”

“I'm not, Mel. I love what you do. It was incredible watching you last night. I couldn't believe I was sitting there, and when you sang that song, I damn near died.”

“I'm glad you liked it.” She leaned over and kissed him. She looked tired, but pleased. She had just turned twenty, and looked prettier than ever to him. “I wish I could take a break sometime, from all this. It gets old after a while,” she confessed. She had said it to him before, in the past few weeks. The time she'd spent working in the field hospital after the earthquake had been such a welcome relief.

“Maybe one of these days,” he tried to encourage her, but she just shook her head.

“My mom and my agent will never let that happen. The smell of success is too sweet to them. They're going to milk this till I die.” She sounded sad as she said it, and Tom put his arms around her and kissed her. The look in her eyes had touched him to the core, just as her song had. She was a remarkable woman, and he knew he was one lucky guy. Fate had dealt him an incredible hand. The San Francisco earthquake, and meeting her as a result, had been the best day of his life.

While Janet was reading Melanie's reviews in Hollywood that morning, Sarah and Seth Sloane were reading their own. It had finally hit the San Francisco papers, and neither of them could figure out what had taken so long. He had been arrested weeks before, and somehow no one had picked up on it. But it had finally exploded like Fourth of July fireworks, and it had even been reported by the AP. Sarah had a feeling that the reporters covering Sully's earlier arrest and impending trial had tipped off the San Francisco press that he had had a crime partner out west. Until then, Seth's story had slipped right through the cracks, but it was front-page news now. Every lurid detail was printed in the Chronicle, with a photograph of Seth and Sarah at the recent Smallest Angels benefit. What they wrote about him was grim. They had the full indictment, all available details, the name of his hedge fund, and the circumstances leading up to his arrest. It said their house was on the market, mentioned that he had a house in Tahoe and a plane. And they made it sound as though everything he owned had been purchased with ill-gotten gains. He sounded like the biggest crook and fraud in town. It was profoundly humiliating for him, and excruciating for her as well. She had no doubt that her parents would even read about it in Bermuda, once the AP put it over the wires. She realized she had to call them now. With luck, she could still explain it herself. It was simpler for Seth. His parents had been much older when he was born and both were deceased. Her parents were very much alive and would be shocked, particularly since they loved Seth, and had right from the beginning.

“It's not a pretty story, is it?” Seth said, glancing at her. They had both lost a lot of weight. He looked gaunt, and she looked drained.

“There's not much they can do with it to dress it up,” she said honestly.

These were the last days of their living together. They had agreed to stay in the house on Divisadero, for the kids’ sake, until it sold, before they moved into their own apartments. They were expecting several offers that week. It wouldn't be long. Sarah knew it would make her sad to see the house go. But she was far more upset about her marriage and her husband than about the house they had owned only for a few years. The house in Tahoe was on the market, with everything in it, even kitchenware, TVs, and linens. It was easier to sell that way to someone who wanted a ski house and didn't want to bother decorating it or filling it. The house in the city would be sold empty. They were putting their antiques up for auction at Christie's, along with their modern paintings. Her jewelry was beginning to sell in L.A.

Sarah was still looking for a job, but hadn't found anything yet. She was keeping Parmani for the children, because she knew that when she found work, she'd need someone to take care of them. She hated the idea of leaving her children in day care, even though she knew that others did. What she really wished was that she could do what she had done until now, stay home with them, as she had for the past three years. But that was over. With Seth spending every penny they had on lawyers for his defense, and possibly fines, she had to work, not just to help contribute, but maybe at some point to support her children and herself, with no help from Seth. If everything they had and owned was going to be swallowed up by court orders, lawsuits, and his defense fund, and he went to prison, who was going to help them? She had to rely on herself.

After Seth's astonishing and utterly appalling betrayal, she trusted no one now but herself. She could no longer rely on him. And she knew she'd never trust him again. He read it easily in her eyes whenever their glance met. He had no idea how to make reparations to her, or if he ever could. He doubted it, given everything she'd said. She hadn't forgiven him, and he had come to doubt she ever would. And he wasn't sure he blamed her. He was feeling deeply guilty about the effect on her. Their life was destroyed.

He was shocked when he read the article in the paper. It made mincemeat of him and Sully and made them sound like common criminals. Nothing kind or compassionate was said. They were two bad guys who had set up fraudulent hedge funds, misrepresented the financial backing, and had cheated people out of money. What else could they say? Those were the allegations, and as Seth had admitted to Sarah and his own attorney, the accusations made against them were all true.

They hardly spoke to each other again all weekend. Sarah didn't insult or berate him. There was no point. She didn't say anything. She was too hurt. He had destroyed every shred of faith and confidence she'd ever had in him, and thrown her trust out the window by proving himself unworthy of it. He had put their children's future lives at risk, and heavily impacted hers. He had made her worst nightmares come true, for better or worse.

“Don't look at me like that, Sarah,” he finally said to her over the paper. There was an even bigger, uglier article in the Sunday edition of The New York Times, which included Seth too. As important as Seth and Sarah had become in their community, their disgrace was now commensurate. Although she had done nothing herself, and knew nothing of his illegal activities before the earthquake, she felt tarred by the same brush. Their phone had been ringing off the hook for days, and she left it on the machine. There was nothing she wanted to say to anyone, or hear from them. Sympathy would have cut through her like a knife, and she didn't want to hear the thinly veiled chortles of the jealous. She was sure there would be plenty of those. The only people she had spoken to that day were her parents. They were devastated and shocked, and couldn't understand what had happened to Seth any better than she could. In the end, it was all about lack of integrity and intense greed.

“Can't you at least try to put a good face on it?” Seth said reproachfully. “You sure know how to make things worse.”

“I think you took care of that pretty efficiently, Seth.” After she cleared the table of their breakfast dishes, he found her crying at the sink.

“Sarah, don't …” His eyes held a poisonous mixture of anger and panic.

“What do you want from me?” She turned to look at him in agony. “Seth, I'm scared … what's going to happen to us? I love you. I don't want you to go to prison. I want none of this to have happened …I want you to take it back and undo it … you can't …I don't care about the money. I don't want to lose you …I love you … and you threw our whole life out the window. Now what am I supposed to do?” He couldn't stand the pain in her eyes, and instead of putting his arms around her, which was all she wanted, he turned around and walked away. He was in so much pain and terror himself that he had nothing to give her. He loved her too, but he was much too frightened for himself now to be of any help to her and the kids. He felt as though he was drowning alone. And so was she.

Sarah couldn't think of anything as devastating ever happening in her life, except when their premature baby nearly died, but she was saved by the neonatal unit. There was no way to save Seth. His crime had been too big and too shocking. Even the FBI agents had seemed somewhat disgusted by him, especially when they saw the kids. Sarah had never lost anyone in traumatic circumstances. Her grandparents had either died before she was born, or of old age without catastrophic illness. The people she had loved in her life had stood staunchly by her. Her childhood had been a happy one, her parents were solid citizens. Her boyfriends had been nice to her. Seth had always been wonderful to her. And her children were adorable and healthy. This was the worst thing by far that had ever happened to her. She had never even lost a friend to a car accident or cancer. She had passed unscathed through all thirty-five years of her life, and now a nuclear bomb had been dropped on her. And the person who had dropped it was the man she loved, her husband. She was so stunned by it that, most of the time now, she just didn't know what to say, especially to him. She didn't know where to start making it better, nor did he. The truth was that there was no way they could. His lawyers would have to do their best, with the appalling set of circumstances he'd given them to work with. And in the end, Seth would have to take his medicine, no matter how bitter it was. And so would she, even though she had done nothing to deserve it. That was the “better or worse” part. She was going down in flames with him.

Sarah called Maggie on her cell phone on Sunday night, and they spoke for a few minutes. Maggie had seen the articles in the papers in the lounge at the Presidio, and her heart had gone out to Sarah, and even Seth. They were paying a high price for his sins. And she felt sorry for the kids. She told Sarah to pray, and she would do the same.

“Maybe they'll be lenient with him,” Maggie said hopefully.

“According to Seth's attorney, that would be two to five years. At the other end of the spectrum, it could be thirty.” She had told her all that before.

“Don't go there yet. Just have faith and keep swimming. Sometimes that's the best you can do.” Sarah hung up then, walked quietly past her husband's study, and went upstairs to bathe her children. Seth had been playing with them, and she took over from him. They did everything in turns now, and were rarely in one room at the same time. Even being near each other had become painful. Sarah couldn't help wondering if she would feel better or worse when she moved out. Maybe a lot of both.

Everett called Maggie that night to discuss what he'd read about Seth in the L.A. papers. The story was all over the country by then. He had been shocked by the news, particularly since he thought Seth and Sarah looked like the perfect young couple. It reminded him yet again, as he had known for years, that you could never tell what evil lurked in people's hearts. Like everyone else who read of it, he felt sorry for Sarah and their children, and not at all for Seth. He was getting what he deserved, if the allegations were true, and they sounded so perfectly nailed down that he suspected they were.

“What a miserable situation for her. I saw a little of her at the benefit. She seems like a nice woman. But then again, he looked okay too. Who knew.” He had seen her briefly at the field hospital too, but hadn't talked to her for long. She looked upset then, and now he knew why. “If you see her somewhere, tell her I'm sorry,” he said sincerely, and Maggie didn't acknowledge whether or not she would. She was faithful to Sarah and the relationship they had, and kept all her secrets, even that they saw each other.

Otherwise, Everett said he was doing fine, and so was Maggie. She was happy to hear from him, but as always, she was troubled when she hung up. Just hearing his voice touched her heart. She prayed about it after they talked, and she went for a long walk on the beach at dusk. She was beginning to wonder if she should stop taking or returning his calls. But she told herself she had the strength to deal with it. He was only a man, after all. And she was the bride of God. What man could compete with that?

Chapter 15

Melanie's concert in Las Vegas was a huge success. Tom flew in to see it, and she sang the song to him again. The show they did in Vegas had more special effects, and made a bigger impression, although the audience and the venue were significantly smaller than the concert he'd gone to before. They went wild for Melanie in Las Vegas. She sat at the edge of the stage when she did the encores, and Tom could reach out and touch her from his front row seat. Fans were pressed all around her, while security tried to hold them back. The finale was an explosion of lights while Melanie rode a platform to the sky, singing her heart out. It was the most impressive show Tom had ever seen, although he was upset to discover that she'd sprained her ankle getting off the platform, and she had two more shows to do the next day.

When the time came, she went on anyway, in platform silver sandals and with an ankle the size of a melon. He took her to the emergency room after her second show. He and Melanie left without saying anything to her mother. They gave her a cortisone shot so she could go on again the next day. The last three days in Vegas were smaller shows. The opening concert had been the big one, and she was on crutches at the end of the weekend when he left.

“Take care of yourself, Melanie. You work too hard.” He looked worried. They'd had a nice weekend together, but she had been busy with rehearsals or doing a show most of the time. They managed to get to one of the casinos the first night. And Melanie's suite was fabulous. He stayed in her suite in the second bedroom, and they were very circumspect for the first two nights. And on the last night they had finally given in to nature's urges and all the strong emotions they felt for each other. They had waited long enough, and it felt right. She felt even closer to him now as he left. “You're going to wreck your ankle, if you don't slow down.”

“I'll get another cortisone shot tomorrow.” She was used to injuries onstage, they had happened before. She always went on no matter what happened to her. She had never canceled a show. She was a pro.

“Mellie, I want you to take care of yourself,” Tom said, genuinely concerned about her. “You can't just take cortisone like that. You're not on a football team.” He could see her ankle was painful and still swollen in spite of the shot the day before. All it had done was allow her to abuse herself and perform again, in high heels. “Get some rest tonight.” He knew she was leaving for Phoenix in the morning, to do another show.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him. “Nobody ever worries about me the way you do. They just expect me to go onstage and perform, dead or alive. I knew that platform was wonky when I stepped on. The rope broke as I got off. That's how I fell.” They both knew that if it had broken earlier, she would have fallen a long way down, and might even have been killed. “I guess you've seen the flip side of show business now.” She stood close to him as they waited for his plane. She had taken him to the airport in the long white stretch limousine the hotel gave her for the duration of her stay. The perks in Vegas were fabulous. It wasn't going to be as comfortable when they hit the road. She had ten weeks ahead of her and wouldn't be back in L.A. till early September. Tom had promised to fly out and meet her over a few weekends. They were both looking forward to it.

“Make sure you see the doctor again before you leave.” They called his flight then, and he had to go. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, careful of the crutches she was resting on, and she was breathless when he let go. “I love you, Mellie,” he said softly. “Don't forget that while you're on the road.”

“I won't. I love you too.” They had been dating now for over a month. It wasn't long, and things had started to move quickly since they came to Vegas. But they had been through so much together in San Francisco that their romance had taken off at a rapid rate. He was the nicest man she'd ever known. “See you soon.”

“You bet!” He kissed her one last time, and was the last to board the plane. She hobbled back through the terminal then on her crutches, and crawled into the limousine at the curb. Her ankle was killing her, more than she had wanted to admit to Tom.

When she got back to her suite at the Paris, she put an ice pack on it, which hardly helped, and took some Motrin to bring the swelling down. Her mother found her lying on the couch in the living room at midnight, and Melanie admitted to her that the ankle really hurt.

“You've got to go on in Phoenix tomorrow,” her mother warned her. “They're sold out too. We'll get you another shot in the morning. You can't miss that show, Mel.”

“Maybe I can do it sitting down,” Melanie said as she touched it and winced.

“Your dress will look like shit if you do,” her mother commented. Melanie had never missed a single performance, and she didn't want her to start now. Rumors about that kind of thing spread like wildfire, and could destroy the reputation of a star. But her mother could see that she was really hurt. Melanie was always a good sport about injuries, and she never complained, but this one seemed more serious.

Tom called her before she went to sleep that night, and she lied and told him the ankle was better, so he wouldn't worry. He said he already missed her. She had a picture of him next to her bed when she fell asleep.

Her ankle was more swollen in the morning, and Pam took her to the hospital. The head ER doctor recognized her immediately and escorted her into a stall. He said he didn't like the look of it and wanted another X-ray. When she had hurt it, the medics who saw her the first time had said that it was just a bad sprain. The head of the emergency room wasn't convinced. And he was right. When he checked the X-ray, he showed her a hairline crack. He said she had to wear a hard cast for the next four weeks, and try to stay off it as much as she could.

“Yeah. Right,” she laughed, and then groaned. It hurt every time she moved. The performance was going to be agony that night, if she could even do it. “I'm playing to a packed house in Phoenix at eight o'clock,” she explained. “And I still have to get there. They didn't pay to watch me hobble onstage in a cast,” she said, as she almost cried moving it.

“What about a boot?” the ER doctor suggested. He treated a lot of performers, some of whom had fallen offstage or worse. “You can take it off when you go on. But don't even think of wearing platforms or high heels.” He knew the breed well, and she looked guilty the minute he said it.

“My costumes will look like shit with combat boots,” she said.

“You'll look worse in a wheelchair if it gets any more swollen. The boot ought to do it. Just wear flats when you perform. And you gotta use the crutches,” he informed her. She had no other choice. The ankle was excruciatingly painful, and she couldn't put any weight on it at all.

“Okay, I'll try the boot,” she conceded. It went up to her knee, was made of a shiny black plastic material, and had Velcro straps to hold her leg in. And as soon as she stood on it, it gave her considerable relief. She hobbled out of the emergency room in the boot, with the crutches, while Pam paid the bill.

“Looks cute,” Janet said jauntily, as she helped Melanie into the limousine. They had just enough time to pick up their bags, meet the others, and head to the airport for their flight to Phoenix. Melanie knew it would be crazy from now on. Their concert tour had begun, and she'd be all over the States for the next ten weeks.

She put her leg up on a pillow in their chartered plane. The band played liar's dice and poker, and Janet joined them. She glanced over at her daughter a couple of times and tried to make her more comfortable. In the end, Melanie took a couple of pain pills and went to sleep. Pam woke her up when they got to Phoenix and one of the guys from the band carried her down the stairs. She was looking sleepy and a little pale.

“You okay?” Janet asked her as they got into another limousine, a white one again. They would have hotel suites and limousines waiting for them in every city where they went.

“I'm fine, Mom,” Melanie reassured her, and when they got to their hotel rooms, Pam ordered lunch for all of them, while Melanie called Tom. “We're here,” she said, trying to sound livelier than she was. She was still groggy from the pain pills, but the boot helped when she walked. She could hardly move without the crutches.

“How's your ankle?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“I've still got it. They put me in some kind of a removable cast thing in Vegas before we left. I look like a cross between Darth Vader and Frankenstein. But it actually helps. I can take it off when I'm onstage.”

“Is that smart?” Tom asked, sounding like the voice of reason.

“I'll be fine.” She had no other choice. She did what the doctor had suggested and wore flats that night. They had taken the rising platform out of the show because she was afraid of falling and getting hurt again. She always said she felt like the Flying Wallendas when she used it, and said she should have a net. She had fallen off it twice before, but this was the first time she had actually gotten injured. It hurt, but it could have been worse.

She hobbled onto the stage with her crutches that night and laid them down. They had given her a tall chair to sit on, and she joked about it with the crowd. She said she'd done it having sex, which they thought was funny. And the audience forgot about it as soon as she started her show. She sat down on stage for most of the performance that night, but no one seemed to mind. She had worn hot pants, fishnet stockings, and a red-sequined bra. And even in flat shoes, she looked hot. She kept the encores short that night. She was dying to get back to her room and take another pill. She went right to sleep after she did, even before she called Tom to tell him how the show went. He had told her he was going to L.A. for dinner with his sister, and didn't call her either. But normally, they talked to each other all the time on their cell phones.

They spent two days in Phoenix, and from there they flew to Dallas and Fort Worth. They did two shows in each city, one in Austin, and another at the Astrodome in Houston. She was religiously wearing the boot while she was offstage, and her foot was better. They finally got two days off in Oklahoma City, which was sheer heaven. They were flying all over the country, and she was working hard. Performing with an injury was just one of the challenges she had to face while doing concerts. One of the roadies had broken an arm, and their sound man slipped a disk, carrying heavy equipment. But whatever happened, they all knew the show had to go on. It wasn't an easy life when they were on the road. The hours were exhausting, the performances were tough, and their hotel rooms were dreary. Whenever possible, they got suites. They got stretch limousines at every airport, but there was nowhere to go in them, except between the concert hall and hotel. In a lot of cities, they played in stadiums. It was all part of life as they made their way from city to city. After a while, all the places they went looked the same and they forgot where they were.