Under the Same Sun (Stone Trilogy) (39 page)

The champagne bottle stood on the table, and she reached for it, but Jon was faster. For a moment she watched the foam as he poured and then said, “Like my own shadow. It was like a shadow, a deadly sadness. It never let me go, and all the time it just got blacker. I wanted a baby so much; I still do. Don’t say it!” She laid her fingertips on his lips when Jon took a breath to reply. “Don’t say it; I know what you want to tell me. It may not matter to you, but it does matter to me. A lot. I want this. Wanted this. I wanted to give you this gift, even if only to atone for you missing out on Josh’s childhood.”

Her hand was a little unstable when she picked up the glass.

“When I was on that beach with Parker, when he took away my rings and my sandals, I realized for the first time that I might not survive that day. And I was terrified. I looked out at the sea and understood that I wasn’t ready to die, not ready to let you go, not ready for anything at all but this life with you, and loving you. And that was the moment when I let go of that shadow, when I could finally step out of it like a discarded dress and be myself again. So, yes…everything has changed.”

The salesgirl returned, carrying a tray covered in black velvet, five of the bracelets on it, and held it out to Jon. These were the last ones in that size, she said apologetically.

“Give me your hand,” Jon said, and when Naomi did, he pushed one of them up on her wrist.

She did not lower her arm, so he put another one on it, and then one more. Naomi gazed at him steadily, and he picked up the last two.

“You glutton. You know wearing five of these is indecent. You’ll make other woman jealous.” His voice was dark with laughter. “But I love it. I love spoiling you.”

The black credit card, the same one she had used in Los Angeles to go shopping with Solveigh, changed hands, and they were alone again.

“I wasn’t going to say a baby doesn’t matter.” Picking up his little shopping bag, Jon rose from the comfortable chair and drained his glass. “Come on, you hussy. Let’s go before you want a tiara.”

“You weren’t?” The gold shone nicely, and the bangles chimed softly when she moved toward the door.

“No, my darling.” Courteously, he let her walk ahead. “I was going to say that we aren’t working hard enough at it, obviously. I clearly need to take you to bed more often.” And laughed when she gaped at him, speechless for once.

chapter 37

I
n daylight, in the bright sunshine of an August afternoon, Jane’s house was just another small, white house on the corner of two small streets in a residential area of a small town. Across the road, on a school sports field, kids were playing football, watched by some adults sitting on the lawn, picnic baskets between them. The smell of grilled burgers drifted over when they got out of the car.

Jon turned to look when he heard the satisfying sound of a ball being caught after a good pass, the thud of the leather hitting the pocket of the receiver’s hands; and he smiled to see the boy doing a little victory dance, holding up the ball, well behind the line.

“Will you look at that.” He nearly hummed it, so pleased was he with the view. “What a neat touchdown. Someone should give that kid a contract.”

“And here I thought you’d want a daughter if we had another child,” Naomi said. “But I believe you need another son, so you can play football with him. I never knew you were such an American dad at heart.”

He slung his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, I am. I think I’m really quite ordinary. But hey, let’s not worry about gender, or a baby at all. I’ll tell you what. Once we get back from this tour we’ll really go to work on this; what do you say?”

“Shut up.” Her bangles rang melodiously when she pulled them off and dropped them into her purse.

Jon’s eyebrows came up, and she explained. “You’re giving Jane one. How would it look if I walked in wearing five?”

They listened to the doorbell, to the echoing bark of a dog, and a female voice calling out to him.

“That dog is really friendly.” As if in memory of that night, Naomi touched her wrist, then her finger, and gazed down at the new ring on it. From inside, they could hear footsteps.

Before he could reply, the door opened.

“Oh!” Jane’s face was a study in distraction. “What a pleasant surprise! Do come in!” She smiled. “Sorry, I’ve been so busy lately. Everything’s happening at once. Would you like some coffee?”

Before Jon could reply, Naomi nodded. “I’d love some coffee.” She followed Jane into the kitchen.

Everything was still there, in the same order it had been when she had sat here; cold, trembling, frightened, and now, during the day, it looked ordinary, pleasant, a normal home for normal people. And yet, and yet, for one night it had been her sanctuary.

“We wanted to thank you,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for rescuing me. I owe you my life.”

Jane glanced at her from the coffeemaker.

“It’s true. You saved my life. I know now, had you not helped me, that I’d probably have been killed. Maybe not that night, but soon.” This was more awkward than Naomi had expected. Her hands folded, she stood beside the chair she had sat on two nights ago and stared at a stack of printouts on the table. There were blue markings on them that made absolutely no sense.

“Yes.” The machine burbled gently, “I think you were in grave danger.”
From a cupboard over the sink, Jane brought out mugs but then hesitated. “I should get out proper cups for you.”

“No.” Naomi took them from her. “These are perfect. We don’t want to keep you long either. We really just wanted to say thank you.”

“Well, nonsense. I’m happy you’re here. I made some madeleines last night; we can have them with the coffee.” She brought out a plate with the little, seashell-shaped cakes.

“Proust.” It was the first thing that came to Naomi’s mind. “Those always make me think of Proust. I love Proust.”

The blue eyes regarded her attentively. “Yes, Proust. The madeleines and the childhood memories.”

Naomi took one of the madeleines and popped it into her mouth, where it melted in sugary sweetness. “These are wonderful! I haven’t had madeleines since I lived with my parents in Geneva.”

Jon appeared in the door. “What are you talking about? Is it girl talk? Do I have to stay alone in the living room for much longer?”

J
ane refused to accept the blue box, telling Jon in a surprisingly
tart tone that she hadn’t helped Naomi to get a reward and that she
would do it again at the drop of a hat; and this time her eyes flashed like ice.

“But you could have been hurt.” The box balanced on his knee, Jon smiled at her. “You didn’t have to get involved, but you put Naomi’s safety first. Not everyone would act so selflessly. It might have gone badly for both of you.”

With a huff, Jane stretched out her hand. “All right. Since you came all the way to give me that, let’s see what’s inside.” Her lips tightened when she held up the bracelet. “It’s lovely, but it’s a bit much. Really, I can’t accept this”

Jon shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it’s not nearly enough. Please accept it. It’s only a tiny token of my gratitude.”

“Yes, I understand.” She held up her wrist with the bangle on it. The diamonds caught the light nicely, throwing their sparkles across the skin of her arm. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

“The beach.” Naomi’s voice sounded distant. “Is it far from here? Parker drove around so much, I lost my bearings completely. I’d really like to go and have a look.”

“My dear, there are miles and miles of beach in New Jersey. Where were you?” Jane closed the blue box and tied the white ribbon neatly around it.

“I don’t know. There was a red pavilion and a boardwalk. Not many people, for some reason.” As if the memory scared her all over again, Naomi gazed toward the kitchen door, toward the place where she had found sanctuary. “I remember the sand was hot to walk on, and the surf was quite high.”

“We had a bit of a storm a few days ago.” A soft murmur from Jane, accompanied by a thoughtful nod. “Sounds like you were in Bradley Beach. There’s a red pavilion there. It’s a stretch from here.” She glanced at her watch. “It will be getting dark by the time you get there.”

Jon laid his hand on Naomi’s. “Maybe we’ll go another time then. Naomi told me you have a toy store?”

Surprised, Jane glanced at him. “No, no, I don’t have a toy store. That’s just a small business on the side.” She hesitated. “I’m a publisher. I run a publishing house.”

With a grin, Jon took another madeleine. “A book publisher?”

“Yes, that kind of publisher.” Jane grinned back at him. “I know, we are a rare breed and seldom seen in public. But we do exist.”

“What kind of books do you publish, then?” He leaned forward, interested, alert.

From the conservatory, they could hear the snuffling and yawning of a big dog waking from a nap, and Jane got up to check on him. A few happy yelps welcomed her as she slid open the door to the back yard and let him out. Hot air wafted into the house immediately, as if someone had opened a huge washing machine.

“I hate New Jersey.” With a sigh, Jane dropped back onto the couch. “I wish I could live somewhere on the beach, where I could spend the day in a hammock, a drink in one hand and a good book in the other. That’s my dream. But not yet, I’m afraid. There’s still too much to do.” To Jon, she added, “All kinds of books. Mostly novels, fiction. Why?”

“Oh, Naomi is a writer,” he began, but was interrupted by Naomi, who said, “Jon, that’s a gross exaggeration. I haven’t even written a book yet. Stop it.” For good measure she slapped his wrist, and he laughed.

“All right then. Let’s go. I think we’ve done what we came to do.” Rising, he stole another cookie from the plate. “Jane, why don’t you come to my concert in New York a couple of months from now? It’ll be the last one on this tour, and I have the feeling it may be the last one for a long, long time, if not forever.”

“Yes, do,” Naomi chimed in. “I’d love that.”

“We’ll see. I’m not a great lover of the big city.” Jane smoothed down the linen pants she was wearing. “Thank you for coming.” She thought for a moment, then said to Naomi, “I’ll give you my card. Once you’ve written your book, let me have a look. Perhaps I can help you. Wait here.”

A moment later she returned, a business card in her hand. “Here. Give me a call. And about that concert, yes, I think I’d actually like to go.”

“Great!” Jon beamed at her. “I’ll have the office set it up for you. Don’t worry about driving into Manhattan. I’ll have them send you a limo. Thanks again, Jane.” On an impulse, he drew her into his arms and gave her a tight hug. Laughing, a bit embarrassed, she hugged him back.

T
here was this special light, this angle of gold and bronze pouring itself over the city at this time of day that made it seem almost alien, something from a painting of another planet, a beautiful, strange metropolis populated with graceful, strange beings.

Again Naomi lowered the window and took a deep breath of the humid, stuffy air.

“Can you hear it, Jon?” she asked. “Can you hear the music of the city? I don’t know what it is. It’s like a constant hum, as if it’s singing. As if it’s lying there on its island bed, hands crossed on its belly, eyes half closed; and it’s humming an unknown song, content, relaxed, as pleased as a great beast basking in the sun and warmth. It feels alive, and benevolent, as if it wants to embrace every human soul that walks through its canyons, as if it watches out for them.”

Jon shook his head at her.

“No, really,” Naomi insisted. “Can’t you hear it? It’s like music.”

“Baby, it’s crowded, and it stinks of exhaust fumes. Certainly nothing pretty, only boring old Canal, dirty and crowded with peddlers and tourists. I can’t even begin to see the beauty you think is there. It’s a gritty place, New York is; and trust me, it doesn’t embrace its humans.” He leaned back into the leather seats, amused by her enthusiasm. “You were never in love with LA like this, and it’s a lot friendlier than New York.”

“No, you’re right. Los Angeles scares me a bit; it’s as if it could slip into the ocean at any moment. I think I find the Pacific a bit daunting. It’s just so huge, and it leads nowhere.”

That made him laugh. “Don’t let the Asians hear that. I’m sure they would disagree.”

“I can’t wait, Jon.” Naomi laid her head on his shoulder. “I can’t wait until we are settled at the house. It will be so wonderful, you down in the studio, me in my study, working on our projects. We will live a normal life at last.”

“Yes.” His hand played in her hair. “Yes, we really need a break. We need to find peace and happiness. You’re right.”

“Let’s go to my parents’ place,” she said, breaking the moment of silence. “Let’s go and get this settled. I want to talk to Joshua, and to my father; and I want to know what they are planning.”

“Are you sure?” Jon sounded doubtful. “I’m really not ready for another drama. I’d much rather go home. We could have dinner at the Italian place on our street.”

“Or we could have dinner at the hotel. It has a rather good restaurant.”

“With your parents?” The idea was not really appealing. “Why don’t we go home?”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go home then.” She sighed. “But we have to tackle this, Jon. I want to talk to Joshua. I don’t want my father to take him to Boston on his own. I want a say in this.”

“And you shall have it, I promise.” His grip around her waist tightened. “But let’s do that tomorrow, in broad daylight, not tonight. There’s still a little matter to discuss between just you and me.”

Curious, she sat up.

“Do you want your new wedding ring or not? Did you think I’d just hand it over to you across the breakfast table? Come on, little beast. If you don’t have a sense for romance, I do.” His dark eyes shone dangerously. “I have something in mind, and it certainly doesn’t include your father. It doesn’t exactly include a lot of clothes either, but there may be some champagne. And a song whispered in your ear. So, what’s it going to be? Your parents or home?”

“Home,” she said.