Under the Same Sun (Stone Trilogy)

Copyright © 2012 Mariam Kobras

Published in the United States by Buddhapuss Ink, LLC. Edison, New Jersey.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher.

Cover Art
Sunday Morning
@ 2011 Eric G. Thompson

Author Photo by Sarah Fulford

Cover and Book Layout/Design by The Book Team

Library of Congress Control Number:  2012943431

ISBN 978-0-9842035-5-0  (Paperback Original)

First Printing October 2012

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher has no control over and does not assume any responsibility for authors, the authors’ websites, or for third-party websites or their content. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

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PROLOGUE

N
aomi sighed in relief when she realized her flight wasn’t full. She would have some privacy.

The first-class passengers were called just as she began to wonder if there was time for another cup of coffee. In the tunnel, she waited for a woman in a wheelchair to board and unfolded the magazine to have another look at Jon. Her husband—there he was on a glossy front cover.

She hadn’t flown first-class on a commercial flight for quite a while. Before Jon, she’d not allowed herself the luxury; and with him it was always a private plane, one of those small, well-appointed jets that whisked them across the continents to wherever he wanted to go.

Settling down in the wide, comfortable seat she watched the other passengers board before she turned to look out the window. It had begun to rain, the sky hung low and dark over the tarmac. From afar she could see the blinking lights of runways, of planes slowly sinking and landing in a spray of water as their wheels touched the ground.

A man sat down across the aisle, nodding a greeting toward her.

Naomi remembered seeing him in the lounge, by the bar, and she nodded back before she closed her seat belt and opened the magazine to read the article about Jon.

“I saw you earlier,” he said. Surprised, she looked up.

The plane was moving, its big body shuddering with the power of the engines. Raindrops pelted against the window.

“I saw you in the lounge. You caught my attention right away. Name’s Parker. Pleased to meet you.”

She didn’t reply. He wasn’t her type, with his blond hair and fair complexion, but he looked pleasant enough, his blue eyes smiling at her.

“It’s a pleasure to have such lovely company on a long flight like this.”

The flight attendant began the safety instructions while they taxied toward the runway.

Once they were in the air and the announcement that it was now safe to use “approved electronic devices” was made, Naomi pulled her headphones from her bag and clamped them over her ears shutting him out. It took her a moment to fish her MP3 player out of her purse, but soon Jon’s voice flooded her mind.

chapter 1

H
e had been holding the apple in his hand the entire time it took the bus to cross London.

Beside them, the river was a golden band shimmering in the late afternoon sun, the few ships on it collecting ripples in their trail like lace on a satin gown.

Quite successfully, he’d ignored the chatter of the others as they commented on the sights and on how excited they were to be back in England, back on the road.

His fingers had gripped the apple. It was like a good-luck charm, the promise that all would be well, something to dispel the loneliness.

Jon had felt that loneliness like a terrible ache on the bus ride to the venue, like a deep silence settling in his heart. He had woken up alone in his hotel room and stared at the curtains blowing in the morning breeze, the other side of the bed empty and cold, untouched. He’d listened to the sound of the birds in the park across the street, remembering when they had been in London together for the first time. It had been a day much like this one, perhaps a little cooler, and it had been the day he had decided. He could remember opening his eyes and seeing her black locks on the pillow, a pale shoulder partially covered by the sheet, and he had known it was the day he would propose. How nervous he had been, afraid she would refuse. But she had said yes, and after breakfast he had taken her out and bought her a ring. The elation of that moment, of the moment when he had put it on her finger had come back to him when he had retraced that walk only this morning. He had stood outside Tiffany’s and had felt the crazy
urge to bend down and run his hand over the pavement, trying to find a memory of her footsteps there. Furtively he had looked around, but no one had noticed him. The stream of early pedestrians had parted
around him, ignoring him as if he was nothing more than a garbage can that had been put out in the wrong place.

I
t had been three weeks. Three weeks since he had let her go, watching with a heavy heart how she had left, fleeing their life, and the aftermath of the shooting. He had tried to talk her out of it, had made her breakfast and hoped with every fiber of his heart that she would change her mind; but seeing her sitting at the kitchen table, her head lowered in defeat, her hands folded in her lap, the omelette untouched, he had told her to go. Very softly, softly enough that his voice wouldn’t crack on the words, he had offered to let her leave and find her peace. Naomi had looked at him, a small spark of hope in her eyes, and he knew it was the only thing he could do.

She hadn’t said where she was headed, and he had been too afraid to ask, afraid to hear her say it was none of his business or that she would not be returning. He stood in the doorway as the car pulled out of the driveway and vanished into the morning traffic, then returned inside, alone, desolate.

The house had seemed dead without her, an empty shell left behind, and he had wandered through the rooms, listening to the echo of emptiness. At last he had found enough energy to make coffee; and while he was standing in the kitchen, dolefully watching it drip through the machine, the phone had rung, and it had been her.

“I’m at the airport,” Naomi had said, her voice as normal as if she was calling from a shopping trip, asking what to buy for dinner. “I’m going to New York first, to see Joshua, and then I’ll go to one of my family’s hotels on the Eastern Shore to rest a bit.”

Jon had offered to join her, first in visiting their son and then in her exile, but she had declined. But, she had promised, she would be there when he started the tour; she would be in London.

So now, as the bus took drew close to the venue, he closed his hand around the smooth surface of the apple.

“Your fans,” Sal said from behind him, “faithful as ever. Do you feel like giving some autographs today?”

The bus had to wait a moment before the gate swung open.

“Sure.” Jon didn’t care one way or the other. He didn’t even care about the concert. It had been meant for her, and she wasn’t here. He had dreamed of going on the stage again. Never mind the thousands of people in the audience; he wanted to sing only for her.

Once off the bus, he took the pen Sal held out to him and began walking toward the group of fans, Sal, Russ and Art by his side, security surrounding them. He was so used to this, his smile fell into place before they had walked halfway across the parking lot. In the back of his mind he realized he was still wearing the same shirt he had put on that morning. It was a bit rumpled, not exactly suited for public appearances, but Jon didn’t care.

They were wearing T-shirts with his picture on them. Jon hated his own face on shirts, and he hated it on blue shirts even more. It had never been among his favorite colors, and even less on middle-aged women.

There was a speck of red hidden behind the two matrons holding out CDs for him to sign, and his heart skipped a beat. He tried to see around them, get a closer look, and just then she stepped forward.

He had  not expected to see her again, ever. And yet here she stood, in a dress much like the one she had worn the day he had asked her to marry him, her braid falling over her shoulder, unchanged. Her lips curling into a small smile when she saw his stunned expression. She moved forward to take his hand when he held it out.

“Forgive me,” Naomi whispered, so low only he could hear it. “Forgive me, and please take me back.”

“Forgive you.” There was nothing to forgive. He wanted his arms around her. Wanted to take her to a quiet place where they could be alone, if only for a moment; and he wanted the fans gone so he could kiss her right there and then.

She pressed his fingers slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Don’t stare, Jon. Let’s go.”

He heard the murmur of discontent from the waiting group, but he couldn’t be bothered. There would be no autographs today.

Russ led them inside, where they were greeted by representatives of the venue, of the British tour management and the press, but Jon waved them away and asked for his dressing room.

“Later,” he said, “I promise. I’ll take the time to talk to you, but not now.”

Sal stayed behind to answer some questions, and Jon closed the door behind them, even locked it, relieved that they had at least a few minutes of solitude before he had to go and join the sound check.

“You’re here.”

Again she smiled. “Of course, I promised. Have you forgotten?”

It was so hard to believe that she had really come. “And you stood out there, with the fans. Just like you said you did last time, only then I walked by and didn’t see you.”

“Yes.” She sat on the corner of the dressing table and picked up the eyeliner. Carefully she pulled off the cap and drew a thin line on the tip of her finger. 

“I could hardly wait for you to find me. I was so scared you’d decide not to give autographs at all and I would have to call Sal to come let me in. Then my surprise would have been wasted.”

Jon could hardly speak. Her composure was too much to bear, her cool, sensible words as close to a taunt as she had ever attempted.

“I’m rested,” Naomi went on, a little gentler; “I needed a break.”

The morning she had left came to his mind again, and how she had sat at that table, miserably staring at the steaming eggs, like a prisoner, a captured animal, so defeated and hopeless that he had let her go, had in fact sent her away even though it broke his heart.

“I never wanted to put pressure on you, never. I only wanted to see you healed and well. I just wanted our life back.” He balled his fists, the fury at what had happened to her boiling up again. “I wanted you to forget and be your real self again, not that broken husk on the verge of death.”

“I am myself,” Naomi said softy. “I’m okay now.”

It was a lie. Jon could see it. She looked tired, and she was still too thin.

“Perhaps you should have stayed where you were. It was too early for you to come back.” He could hardly believe what he was saying. “You need more rest.”

Instantly he could see he had hurt her.

Naomi lowered her head. Very slowly she laid the eyeliner back on the table and stood up. With a shaking hand she smoothed her dress and tugged her jacket into place.

“Jon, I’ve come all this way. I flew overnight to get here, and you want to send me back?.I thought you had forgiven me, but it seems you are still angry.” She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “I could not wait to be back with you again.”

“But, baby…” Jon wanted to kiss her. He wanted it so badly he could feel his lips tingling, and he reached out to her. “Baby, I’m so happy you are here! I can’t begin to tell you how much I missed you, how desolate I was without you and how scared that you’d never come back. Don’t you know how much I need you? Only, Naomi…”

“No buts, Jon. No more buts.”

He wanted to drown in that kiss, wanted her body close to his so he could feel the soft warmth of her skin under his hands. Three long weeks she had been away, and to him it felt like an eternity.