Under the Same Sun (Stone Trilogy) (37 page)

“We’re here.” It sounded like a sigh of relief, coming from Sal; and it almost made Jon smile, because it echoed his own feelings so well.

The house was brightly lit. They could see movement through the curtains, then the door flew open and Lucia came running down the steps, right into Olaf’s arms. “Is she okay? Is Naomi okay?”

“She’s fine. Just exhausted and pretty grimy.” Olaf patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’ll be her old stubborn self after a good night’s sleep. Let’s go home, dear. And I think you should maybe bring Joshua. These two have some talking to do when Naomi wakes up.”

Joshua, standing at the top of the stairs, his hands pushed into the back pockets of his jeans, watched how Jon lifted Naomi out of the car. “I’m coming,” he said. “Let me get my bag.”

“You’re really leaving?” Jon was sure he had misheard. “You’re leaving your mother and me now, after what she’s been through? I’m sure she’d like to have you around tomorrow morning.”

Naomi opened her eyes. “It’s all right. You go, Joshua. And Jon, please set me down. I can walk.”

“Yes, I’m leaving. I’ve had it with the drama.” Joshua glared at them. “The more I watch you, the more I think I want to move away, and soon.”

He walked away to the waiting car.

Jon set Naomi down. She went into the house and up the stairs withour looking back at her father, who was waiting for Jon near the garden gate.

In passing, Joshua brushed his fingers over the back of her hand. “Bye, Mom. I’ll be at Grandfather’s if you need me. I’m glad you’re okay.” Joshua hurried into the waiting car before she could reply.

Olaf motioned Jon away from the door, just out of earshot. “We need
to find that man,” Olaf said quietly. “We can’t let him get away with this.”

Surprised, Jon gazed at him, waiting for an explanation.

“You’re not going to wait for the police to do anything, Jon? Surely you have more clout than that?” Olaf’s face was bland, a study in cool aloofness. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and got into the car.

A
mong other things, Lucia had bought them a coffeemaker. A big, silver thing with  lots of buttons and a spout for milk. It took up a lot of room on the kitchen counter, but the coffee it produced was excellent. Jon stood and watched it burble and steam while the aroma wafted around him, soothing and fortifying at the same time.

As soon as they had been alone, right after Sal had left, Naomi had gone upstairs, silently, softly, her steps barely audible. The bedroom door fell shut, the sound like a final chord in the drama of the day.

Coffee, he needed coffee, and now. Listening to the hiss of the machine, Jon tried to gather his tired thoughts into coherence. Olaf’s words rang in his ears, the mysterious question about his clout, and consequences. He had liked the menace in those words, delivered with a perfectly straight face and without inflection. He liked the suggestion that Parker might get hurt, police or not, that he would see punishment for bringing harm to Naomi. Ice-cold sweat ran down his back, imagining Parker touching her, forcing her rings from her finger, making her cry at their loss.

Jon balled his hands into fists on the counter. He would have another talk with Olaf and find out what he had meant.

With the coffee mugs in hand, he made his way up the stairs, turning off the lights along the way.

The black dress was on the floor, tossed there as if she never wanted to touch it again. Naomi was still in the bath; Jon could hear the water in the shower running. He put the coffee down on the bedside table and went to listen at the door, certain he had heard weeping; he did not go inside but gave her some privacy.

Kicking off his shoes, he stretched out on the bed. His eyes begged to shut instantly, he was that exhausted;  but he forced himself to stay awake.

The coffee helped. It was hot and strong, the aroma deep and spicy. Lucia had chosen well; Jon knew he would have to thank her for this.

The bathroom door opened.

Naomi, wrapped in a towel, appeared and stopped when she saw him. “Oh. You’re here.”

“Yes. I brought you some coffee. Do you want it?” He held out the mug to her. She took it and sat on the edge of the bed, where she waited—her hands wrapped around the coffee mug—for him to speak.

“Feeling better?” Jon knew it was a brainless question, but it was the best he could come up with.

She hadn’t looked directly at him since he’d brought her home, hardly spoken to him. It felt as if an abyss of silence had opened between them, and it broke his heart.

“I’m all right, just very tired.” Carefully she took a sip of her coffee. “Jane gave me coffee too. I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep. Maybe it would be better if I left you alone and went down to the couch. Then at least  you can rest.” She got up and wandered over to her dresser; where she dug out a nightgown. On the point of dropping the towel and putting it on, she glanced at him and went back into the bathroom.

Slowly, shyly, she came back, her nightgown on, and stood at the end of the bed.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” Jon said. “I don’t know what to say. We will have to talk about this, about everything that happened today; and I really mean everything. But just for now, Naomi, for this night, can’t we just go to sleep as if nothing is wrong? Can’t you come into my arms and sleep on my shoulder like always, and can we please pretend everything is all right? And talk tomorrow, when we are rested and calm? Will you please come to me?” He held out his hand to her. She took it.

chapter 35

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he was in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

Jon had pulled up the quilt some time before dawn, when her limbs had grown cold, and curled around her, his face in her hair, and listened to her breathing. At last he had fallen asleep himself, the comforting warmth of her body close to his, the towers of the city blinking at him through the darkness like sentinels, like giants watching over them..

It was nearly noon when he woke. Naomi was gone, her pillow cold. Frightened, scared that she had, in the light of the new day, decided to leave him after all, Jon  jumped from the bed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He found a pair of jeans, slipped into them, and hurried downstairs, trying to think where she might have gone, cursing his deep sleep, berating this habit of hers to run away every time something went wrong.

The house smelled of coffee. The familiar, welcome scent drifted toward him through the hall and up the stairs. It was fresh coffee too, the smell hot and heady; and he was sure that the scent of bacon was mixed into it.

Naomi was in the kitchen.

“I made breakfast,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. “I hope it’s okay with you. There was a lot of food in the fridge, so I made eggs and bacon.” With a shrug she glanced at the frying pan. “They’re not as good as your omelette, but I’m sure they are edible. I thought if we can sleep in the same bed we can also eat together.”

There was toast and butter, even honey, and it made Jon realize how terribly hungry he was. “Why in the world shouldn’t we eat together? We’re married, aren’t we? We live together; we love each other. Well, I love you. You’ll have to tell me you love me at some point today.”

Her lips twitched, but she did not reply and instead put a plate down on the table for him, and a stack of bread.

Jon noted how her eyes traveled over his bare chest, and he grinned. “Come here.” She was in her bathrobe, her hair still uncombed, and she looked as lovely as she had the first day he had met her.

“No.” Naomi folded her hands and stood like a schoolgirl, solemn, a little sad, and very still. “We have to talk first. I want to know if you’re only here because of what happened last night or if you have come back to me.”

“You silly girl.” He nearly choked on the bacon. “I never left you! What makes you think that?”

“But you did leave me! You got out of the car and told me you had enough of me.”

“Are you crazy?” Jon lunged for her and caught her sleeve. “Come here. Don’t stand there as if you’re going to be punished.” There wasn’t a lot of resistance as he pulled her down on his knees. “I was very hurt, that’s true. You, telling me I have no say in Joshua’s life, that hurt, Naomi; it really did. I want to be his father; I want to do everything right for him.” He hesitated, uncertain if this was the right time, the right moment to talk about this, when they should actually be talking about the abduction and what had happened to her. “Can’t you please trust in me? Do you really think my decisions are that bad?”

“No, of course not.” With a sigh, she settled against him. “I know you mean well. I was just so terribly hurt when you signed those documents for Harvard without letting me have a say in it. It felt as if…” She hesitated. “It felt as if suddenly everything I had hoped for, everything I worked for, didn’t mean anything anymore. As if you and my father had decided that my time with Joshua was over, and it was your turn to take over. I felt pushed aside, and it hurt terribly, when I had never done anything but work toward that music career for him.”

“I know.” And he did. Jon knew exactly what she meant, and for a moment he felt the hurt himself, shared her grief at seeing Joshua leave Juilliard.

“But the thing is, Jon, and this took me a while to realize.” Naomi sat up to look at him. “I don’t want to be like my father. I don’t want to make Joshua as unhappy as I was because I could never, not once, do anything right or please him. I want to be proud of Joshua for what he achieves, and of the way he finds for himself. I don’t want him to be unhappy. Even if it means he’s throwing away this great gift of his.” Her lips trembled, and she pressed them together to stop it. “Ferro,” she said softly, “look at Ferro. He’s like me. He doesn’t care at all about vineyards or olive presses. All he wants to do is paint. All I wanted to do was love you, and write. Cesare is so proud of him: he
eases his path; he thinks it’s a great thing to have an artist in the family.

And me? I’ve always been a great disappointment, the child that went wrong.”

“You didn’t go wrong. You never went wrong.” Jon wrapped his arms around her hip. “You went straight for what you wanted, for me, and I’m very happy you did.”

That made her smile sadly and touch his cheek. “Do other parents go through this too, I wonder? Do they make plans and have dreams for their children, and then nothing comes of them?”

“Hell, baby, it’s the story of life in this world!” Her question made Jon laugh, even though it was bitter and it hurt somewhere in his chest. “Have you forgotten? My parents threw me out and let me fend for myself when I left college. They were desperately disappointed! Val and Kevin, they were the good children, the children who went the proper way; I was the misfit. The failure.” He smiled sadly. “Until I was the big star, of course, and came home in a chauffeur-driven limousine for the first time. Until my mom saw my face on magazine covers and the neighbors asked her for concert tickets. Then, yeah, then I was the good son again, and welcome. Let’s not do this to our son, Naomi. I beg you.”

“You are right. Let’s not do this to Joshua.” She thought for a moment. “But it’s breaking my heart, Jon. I’m so heartbroken about this, I could cry and cry. Why in the world did I give him up so early if it’s all for nothing now? Why did I send him to Oxford? I hardly ever saw my only child, all for the sake of music; and now it’s over. And my father wins, at last. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe I have to give in and let Joshua go, again.”

There was nothing he could say to comfort her. Everything was true; she was right about everything she said.

“Yes.” The eggs were getting cold, and the bacon. “Let’s eat something. I’m sure you haven’t had a decent meal since I don’t know when; you’re as pale as the walls. Here.” He rose, planting her on his chair. “Let me see what else Lucia bought yesterday. Isn’t that coffeemachine a killer?”

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he had, she told him over fried mushrooms, a steak, and eggs on toast that was dripping with butter, gone on to the hotel, ready to storm into her parents’ apartment; but then, once inside the lobby, she had changed her mind and decided she wanted a drink.

“I was beside myself, so sad and upset, and I had no idea what to do. I didn’t want to call you; I was afraid. I was so afraid you wouldn’t pick up, or even worse, pick up and tell me you didn’t want to talk to me ever again. I think that would have killed me.”

Jon looked at her across the table. “Eat,” he ordered gently, and she did.

“I don’t know why he was there. But he was. And he was as nice as always, and so surprised to see me.”

“Like hell,” he muttered, which made her look up with raised eyebrows. “Nothing,” Jon said quickly. “Go on. Tell me.”

“He said hello and we began to chat and then moved on to the bar and had a drink. I told him I wanted to check out the season prices for the Met, and he offered to come along.” She sighed. “It wasn’t as if this was in a spooky area or anything; we just had to walk across that open space outside Lincoln Center. We looked around in the Met shop, I asked about the box prices, and then Parker asked me how I liked New York. When I told him how much I loved it, he offered to show me the best view of the city ever, from New Jersey.” Embarrassed, Naomi put down her fork. “And I agreed. I couldn’t see a reason not to. I know Sal had him checked before you permitted that interview in London, so I never thought I was in danger. It never occurred to me that he might be a stalker. He’s a journalist after all, following you around is his job.”

It was true; there was no way he could deny it. “So when did you realize this wasn’t just a short trip to Jersey City for a view of Manhattan?” His appetite had left him.

“Pretty much right away.” Naomi poked at one of the mushrooms. “By then I had decided I needed to talk to you, hear your voice, beg you to take me back, crawl back if I had too.”

“Crazy. You know I love you like crazy, Naomi.”

“Yes, but…” The fork sank into the mushroom. “But you…I can’t even say it. I watched you walk away from me, and I died. Seeing you walk down that sidewalk and get into that cab, Jon, it seemed as if everything ended. Everything.”

“You crazy girl,” Jon softly said. “How often have you walked out on me, made me bear that; and I do it once and you go to pieces? At least now you know how it feels!”

“It’s terrible! It’s like seeing your life walk away!” Her fingers shook when she laid down the fork on her plate. “When we were back in the car I got out my phone, and he took it from me. I was so surprised, I didn’t even try to fend him off. And he told me…” She had to take a deep breath. “He told me you were my jailer, and he was going to set me free. I had no idea what he was talking about. He locked the car doors and drove off. And then, and then…we just drove around until he took me down to the beach.”