“Stop laughing, you silly chick. I’m trying to make a point here,” Jon said, but he smiled. “You can do whatever you want, and you can do it now. Like, let’s go out for lunch and buy you a computer, and then let’s think about going to Italy. It’s time we started to seriously enjoy our lives. I’ve had it with the sorrow and the pain.”
With a shaking finger Naomi pointed at the building where Olaf had taken them out for lunch. “Over there, we sat in that restaurant, and I remembered just now what a blast we had, my parents and I. That was such a carefree, easy day; and for once there was no pressure, no looming future. I was happy that day, Jon! I was happy with my family, and I loved being who I was. For that one day.”
“Come here.” Gently he pried her from her corner. “We’ll go out now. We’ll go out and enjoy the day, and I’ll buy you the best laptop this town has to offer. Then tomorrow we’ll do the show, and then we’re off to Italy. What do you say?”
Her body was stiff in his embrace.
“What? What now?”
Uneasily, her face leaned against his chest, Naomi mumbled, “If we really want to go to Positano, I’ll have to call my mother and have her arrange it. I haven’t been there for ages, Jon. I don’t even know if I’d recognize my relatives.” Slowly, her brow wrinkled, she looked up at him. “I think if we decide to go, my parents will want to come. And, well, Joshua…he hasn’t met his family there.”
That made him let go of her in surprise. “Never? You’ve never taken Joshua to meet your mother’s family? Why? Why, Naomi?”
“It just never happened.” Again she shrugged. “We were in Halmar. My life was small, hidden, quiet. I didn’t travel. I did nothing but raise Joshua and work and write sad songs.” Slowly, with a small sigh, she gave up. “I guess it’s time, yes?”
Jon nodded.
chapter 21
“They let people come all the way to the back entrance,” Sal said on the bus, uneasily glancing out at the highway on which they were traveling. “That’s one thing I’ve never liked about Hamburg. They think security is a courtesy and not something vital. These Germans, they have no concept of danger.”
“Maybe they just don’t treat their celebrities the way we do.” Sean leaned back in his seat and drew his baseball cap down over his eyes. “Maybe they still see them as people and not as public property or someone to be stalked.”
Jon, sitting by himself a few rows behind them, snorted, but didn’t comment. He had closed his eyes and folded his hands on his stomach, legs stretched into the aisle, snatching a few last moments of rest before they arrived and the routine of a show night took over.
“Europeans are easier about these things.” Art turned around from where he was sitting right behind the driver. “But as long as it’s this civilized, who cares?”
Jon opened his eyes. “I do. I want safe in addition to civilized, especially now that Naomi is on the road with us.” He exchanged a glance with Sal.
They had both seen the blond, tall man in the lobby when they had gone down to give a few autographs just before they had left for the sound check. He had kept his distance, mingling with some other reporters, chatting, exchanging business cards, commenting on their cameras; but his eyes had darted back to them. Naomi had not been there; she had chosen to stay behind and play with the laptop he had bought for her at the department store next door to the hotel. When he left, she had been sitting on the couch, legs drawn up, fingers gliding over the smooth, black surface of the thing, hesitant, as if she was afraid to open it, as if opening it meant altering the fabric of reality; and she had barely looked up when he said he would be right back.
Now, on the bus, he wondered how it was for her, if owning this one piece of technology really made that much of a difference, if it felt to her like a new, custom-made guitar felt to him when he made it hum for the first time. His gaze wandered back toward Jones, who was seldom without his favorite instrument. Even on this short ride from downtown Hamburg to the venue he had it on his lap, his hand resting on the strings, singing softly under his breath. Jon thought he recognized the melody but he wasn’t sure. The bus left the highway and entered a narrower road leading through a stretch of forest. They passed a huge garbage facility with a line of trucks waiting to dump their loads. The chimneys rose up into the sky above it, but there was hardly any smoke, and no smell at all. Everything was clean, neat, efficient. Right outside the fence a trailer had parked, its side windows open, with a woman selling sandwiches and sodas to the workers who had come out for a break. They too did not look as if they handled muck; their orange work suits were spotless.
“They don’t do gritty in Germany,” Sean remarked. “Isn’t it amazing? I think these people clean their waste before they put it in the garbage.”
For some reason this made Jon think of his promise to take Naomi to Newark someday, and it made him grin.
“Naomi wants to see New Jersey,” he said.
Sean nodded. “Yes, I’ve been thinking of getting a house somewhere there. Maybe down by the shore. If it’s not too much hassle to drive into town every day.” Laughing, he slapped the armrest of his seat. “Look at us; we’re going to be New York City commuters soon!”
“Yes.” It seemed right. It felt right, this prospect of settling down and starting something new, going in a different direction. “But New Jersey, Sean? Really? I mean, everything I’ve seen of it is…” Jon sought for a word. “Dismal?”
They had stopped at a red light, ready to turn onto the street leading to the venue. There were police cars, ready to close off the road behind them and keep other traffic away. What a strange place, Jon thought, looking out, with the concert hall on one side of the narrow driveway and the football stadium on the other. It seemed displaced, so removed from any kind of neighborhood, planted in the middle of empty land. A plane crossed overhead, so low that he knew the airport must not be too far away, and he could see a highway overpass in the distance. But close by there was only industrial land and greenery.
“Are you sure we’re in the right spot?” he asked when the bus pulled up at the back entrance of the ugly concrete building, “Looks more like a prison.”
But he knew. He had seen the tour posters glued to the gray walls and the announcement on the billboard over the entrance. It made him wonder who would come all the way out here to see them.
There was a small group of fans waiting, maybe fifteen, nothing compared to the throngs he was used to; and they kept their distance, quietly obeying the guards’ orders. There was no press. They waved his way when he got out, but no one even tried to approach.
“I’m going to say hello.” Sean hitched up his jeans and sauntered over to the waiting group, where he was greeted with pleasure and surprise.
“And you?” Autograph cards in hand, Sal waited for Jon’s answer.
“Yeah. What the hell.” Jon took them and followed Sean. The cheers got considerably louder.
It was hot behind the venue. There was little shade, and the pavement smelled of gasoline and molten tar. From where she stood, cell phone in hand, she could see the row of container trucks parked neatly along the fence, fourteen of them now. One was still open, with some of the tour technicians climbing in and out.
Joshua told her, quite simply, that he had no interest in traveling to Italy in the heat of summer; and anyway, he had an invitation from Harry to spend a few days at his home in LA with him and his wife, Grace, and their daughters. They were going to surf and have parties, maybe drive along the coast and have some fun. And sure, he added, he was pleased for them; Naples was going to be exciting, but not for him. His Italian was shaky at best; and right now, with his grandparents in NYC and spoiling him rotten, why should he leave.
Naomi’s heart stopped for a second. “Your grandparents?”
“Yeah, they live h
ere now, don’t you know? You with all your traveling and never being at home; of course you miss everything. Grandma is all crazy with the idea of you going to Naples; they took me out to some Italian restaurant yesterday, and she talked to the waiters in Italian the entire time. Grandfather laughed his head off at her, said it was high time for a visit with her family. Seems they haven’t been down there in a while too. Strange, eh? We are one weird, spread-out family. I wonder if we’ll ever be together in one place, for Christmas or something.” He paused to talk to someone else and came back, his voice slightly breathless. “Hey, wouldn’t that be something? We could all celebrate Christmas together this year, at the new house. With all my grandparents and the rest of the family. Let’s do that, Mom.” There were street noises in the background, other voices, a girl’s silver laugh, and the siren of a police car, someone else calling Joshua’s name. “I have to go,” he said. “We’re having breakfast, a few friends and I. Later, Mom.”
Just like that he hung up on her, and she found herself alone in the parking lot beyond the backstage entrance, with only a couple of security men wandering across the open space and LaGasse waiting next to the door, keeping a discreet distance. Even the fans had left, having wandered around the big building to stand in line, waiting for the doors to open, waiting for the show to begin. It was eerily quiet out here. Naomi could hear birds singing in the trees, a couple of cars passing by on the road beyond the compound, even children’s laughter from nearby; but that was all. From inside, from the auditorium, where she knew the sound engineers were even now testing the speakers and the band was rocking the ceiling, there was not a sound.
She knew Jon was singing right now, and she wondered which song it was. They had never talked about the Stone Song; there just had not been the time for it, and the thought made her angry at her parents all over again for destroying something so special and precious by turning up in Geneva. The fury she had felt then was still there, and it had connected itself to that song and hearing it for the first time.
LaGasse stirred when the door behind her opened and Sal stepped out, cigarette in hand, ready to light it.
“Oh,” he said when he saw her. “All by yourself out here? What’s going on?” A line appeared between his eyes as he gazed at her, worried.
“Nothing.” She tucked the cell phone into her jeans pocket. “Nothing, Sal. Just a quick chat with Joshua, but he’s too busy to talk to me.” This, in fact, eased her mood. “He was on his way to breakfast with a group of classmates. There was a girl’s voice in the background.” Sal’s smile made her shrug and grin back. “He’s growing up! Soon he’ll be eighteen, a grown-up young man. My son. My baby. And now he’s living the New York life and has no time for me. I’m getting old, Sal.”
That made him laugh. “Yeah, right. Like hell you are. You’re not even forty; you’re a young chick!” Something like a blush crept up his neck. “And look at you, as lovely as ever; you don’t look older than twenty-five. Nah, you’re not old.” A new thought occurred to him, and he added, “Hey, if you are old, then Jon and I are ancient, and I hate that thought.”
“Ridiculous.” Embarrassed, she pulled up her shoulders. “I was trying to say, Sal, that it’s so amazing to see this happen. You have a baby, you raise it, you think all the time that you have a baby: and then one day, quite suddenly, you have to realize you’re actually talking to another adult with ideas and plans of his own, and you’ve lost control.” Sadness washed over her, and she wrapped her arms around her body. “Suddenly, you’re alone again. There’s a new freedom, but it hurts.”
Sal lit his cigarette. “But you let Joshua go quite early, didn’t you? Didn’t you send him off to Geneva to live with your parents and go to that music school or something? And then you let him go to Oxford on his own?”
“Yes.” She had no idea where he was going with this. The smoke from the cigarette hung between them in the still summer air, a thin blue veil that seemed to obscure reality.
Before Sal could speak again the door flew open, and Jon appeared. “Baby,” he called, “we’re taking a break. Want some coffee? There’s cake and stuff. You know, those great German pastries.” He held out his hand to Sal for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. “Why are you standing out here? It’s hot! Who would have thought the weather would change this much in one day!”
“Joshua doesn’t want to come to Italy.” It had popped out before she had even found time to think about it, and it showed her how much it mattered to her. Always, always since Jon had returned to her life, Naomi felt as if she was walking on a tightrope, one stretched over a very deep drop indeed.
“He said he’s planning to go to LA and spend some time with Harry and his family. And he wants us home for Christmas; he wants to celebrate with the entire family.” She paused to draw a breath. “He’s meeting my parents, Jon. He wants them there for Christmas too. Didn’t you say they couldn’t see him? What happened to the restraining order?”
“I had it revoked.” Jon turned to look at the line of containers, squinting at them in the sunlight.
“How can you do that without asking me?” Naomi stepped in front of him. “How could you do that without talking to me first?”
With a sigh, Jon laid his arm around her. “Naomi, your father asked. He asked very nicely if I would allow them to take Josh out for lunch, and I agreed. You weren’t there, remember? You stalked out of that restaurant in Geneva fuming at the gills, and so I decided on my own. I can’t see any harm in it. Well, not anymore. And he’s never going out alone; there’s always a bodyguard with him. So let them have lunch together!”
“Oh, and now it’s my fault?” She didn’t even know where to turn with her anger and disappointment. “Now it’s me against all of you suddenly? Now I’m the evil one in this story?” A deep, terrible pain was blossoming in her chest, and she had to press her hand against it to keep it in check. “I thought you were on my side, Jon. I thought you wanted to protect me and Joshua more than anything else.”
“And so I do.” Jon waved at Sal. “Go away. This is private, married people stuff.” He waited until they were alone and then said, “I love you more than my life, Naomi. I love you so much it hurts. Every moment of my day centers around you, and you know it. You know you own me body and soul, every fiber of me, every breath.” Gently he touched her face, traced the line of her temple and jaw, her lips. “I want to see you happy and free, and I’ll do anything in the world to make sure of that.” Tears were gathering in her eyes, ready to roll down her cheeks, and he laid his palms around her face. “Part of that is making peace with our past and your family. We can’t go on living with this anger. We can’t avoid them now that they live in New York. And…” He hesitated. “And as much as I deplore it, we’ll just have to let them be part of Joshua’s life. It’s not as if they are criminals, Naomi. You said it yourself when we were in Geneva and you wanted to visit them. They are your parents, for better or worse.”
“But that was before they barged into the concert and messed everything up! Before he threatened to take Joshua away!” Her fingers clasped into his shirt.
“He can’t take Joshua away, Naomi. You know that.” Jon marveled how it could be that she fit so well into his embrace, as if he was holding a piece of himself, a part that belonged to him and yet lived outside of his body.
“Yes. Yes.” She squirmed unhappily, so he let go and took her hand instead to lead her back into the building.
“We’re trying to build a new life,” Jon said as they entered the hallway, “and part of that is accepting who you are. You’ve lived with all your secrets and the silence and loneliness for so long. It’s time to change that.” He waved at their surroundings. “Look, we’re traveling we’re on tour, going to all these places, meeting all these people, and still you want to live the way you did in Halmar. Only it doesn’t work anymore.”
From the catering area they could smell hot food, coffee, the sweet scent of fresh bread; hear the voices of the band, a snatch of guitar music.
“We’ll be going to Naples in a few days. We’ll meet the other half of your family, and I can hardly wait to see if there’s a resemblance, see where Lucia is from. Me…”—he shrugged and smiled—“I’m nobody. My family always lived in Brooklyn, and my ancestry vanished somewhere in the back alleys of New York. At some time they must have crossed the Atlantic, but there’s nothing to remember, nothing spectacular. But you, you’re like a European princess, someone stranded on the distant shores of America, with these clans spread out all over the old continents. You have traveled far and wide, Naomi. You have crossed so many wild oceans in your life, the last of them being the shooting; you need to move into quiet waters with me now. We need to start living. When we move into the Brooklyn house and start working on the musical, I want us to be free and happy, and I know it can be done. If we come to terms with your family and our past, my fame, and turn it all in a direction we want. But the first thing we have to do is accept your father for who he is.” Jon paused dramatically, waiting for a reaction, and when none came added lamely, “A stupid old bastard. But he’s our stupid old bastard, and we have to deal with him.”
For a moment Naomi gazed at him, her hands folded in front her chest as if in supplication, then she sighed.
“I need cake,” she said.
chapter 22
It wasn’t that she avoided him, but there was a resigned distance, a silence, floating between them. During the preparations for the show, in the dressing room, Naomi hardly spoke; and as soon as he wanted to touch her she drifted away, pretending to be doing something else.
Under the Same Sun (Stone Trilogy) Page 20