The Distant Shore (Stone Trilogy)

by Mariam Kobras

  She nodded silently.

  “Did he truly call me a chick’s man? What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

  Naomi bit her lip as she thought of a fitting reply. “It was so funny. I made Joshua come down from school to go with me, and he was really bitter about it. He asked all the time if it truly had to be you, and if I wanted to go to a pop concert could it please at least be Springsteen or the Stones. Or even better, wait for the Proms.”

  Jon, a drink in his hand, gazed at her without interrupting.

  She stopped briefly to look at him, at the wonder of seeing him before her.

  “I had taken him to Claridge’s for tea, and he was so indignant he forgot about the cakes in front of him. I was much too nervous to eat. I was going to see you.”

  She could not explain even to herself why all of a sudden she had been so driven to see Jon in a concert. He had been around a number of times before, traveling through Britain and Europe on his tours, but here it was: she wanted to see him.

  They had all been there, right before her. The band had walked on, taking their places, adjusting their instruments; Jones and Sean, chatting, had come close to the edge of the stage to sort out some cables but had not taken notice of the audience. Then they had started their intro and Jon walked on.

  It had been almost too much to bear. Joshua had squirmed in his seat. But Jon had been wonderful, powerful, radiating a very masculine sensuality, sure of what he was doing, at one with his music, in perfect harmony with his musicians. Then, her own words, returned to her. It had become very quiet in the great hall, Jon standing close to the piano while Sean played to him.

  “Come to my secret garden, my love, in the middle of the night…” His eyes closed, singing softly, almost painfully, following Sean’s haunting melody. He had seemed so lost in the song, the thousands of watchers forgotten, as if he were reliving special moments, as if he were all alone up there. The intensity had been nearly too much.

  She had cried, mourning what she had given up. It had felt like a leave-taking, a final salute, and it had broken the last shards of her heart.

  After the concert, she had bought the tour-book and a photograph, accompanied by Joshua’s acerbic comments. She had been a little embarrassed at doing such a thing, but she felt she needed something to keep this night real for her when she was home again.

  So when on his birthday he had asked her again about his father, she had told him. Joshua had come to Halmar for the weekend. They were sitting on the couch with tea and almond cake. He was sixteen, and she knew he had a right to know. Of course he did not believe her.

  “Wow, Mom, how? Was I an accident? Does he even know?” he had asked after a few minutes of thoughtful silence.

  It was then that she had lied and said it had been a one-night thing after a concert. And no, he did not know and she did not want him to. She wanted him to let it rest. Which he had not done, obviously.

  “He said the ladies all wanted to get laid by you.”

  Jon blinked at her. “Such insight from a child.” He paused. “Anyway, if Joshua is that good, you should have sent him to Juilliard. They have great programs for young students, and it’s the best music school in the world.” Jon was taking the guitar he had bought in Bergen out of its case. The instrument pleased him, it was far better than he had expected to find here.

  There was no answer from Naomi. She seemed preoccupied with what she was doing, and so he went to her, only to find her staring at the package of pasta in her hand.

  “If I had known, Baby, he could have lived with my family, my mother, and gone there. He still can! He should, in fact. But why didn’t you send him to Juilliard, Naomi?”

  Again, the still withdrawal he hated so much, and the tightening of her shoulders that was like a rejection of him. She tried to move away, but Jon didn’t let her. “Oh no, you don’t. We’re going to talk about it, just as we are going to talk about everything else. We’ve skipped around all these issues so carefully, but at some point we need to unpack them. No more secrets, no more hiding. If we are going to make this last, we need honesty, and trust. So tell me why my suggestion makes you turn away from me again.”

  It took her a while to reply, and when she finally did her words came out in a dry, clipped manner. “I manage this hotel, Jon. And I get a salary that makes it possible for me to send Joshua to Oxford. It’s hard, but I manage. I couldn’t afford Juilliard.”’

  His hand dropped from her arm. Jon took a deep, mortified breath, at a loss for words. But, as was the way with her, once she had overcome the initial hesitation, she went on more easily.

  “It’s my responsibility. It was my choice to let him go to Oxford. It works well enough.” And, with a glint in her eyes, “There is enough left for me to fly to London once in a while to see my favorite singer, even though his ticket prices are outrageous and his taste in shirts is atrocious.”

  “Well enough,” he repeated slowly. “I’m sorry, Naomi. I truly am sorry for the pain I caused you. You should not have been alone. We should have been together. I don’t believe that divorce crap you said the other night. I know we would never have parted.”

  “No,” she interrupted him, caressing his face, “no. Don’t fuss. It doesn’t matter. Everything is fine now. Please, Jon. Don’t be sorry for the past. If I can get over that drug bust, you should put away the guilt for the lost time too.” Then, with hesitation creeping into her voice, “It is fine, isn’t it? Because, really, after seeing you buy this guitar…” He had begun to kiss her, barely touching her lips, while she was trying to speak. “And talking to you about that concert, now I think I would like to see the guys again. I miss Sean.”

  Jon moved closer, knocking her into the counter. “You’ll have to stop this Sean talk. It really drives me mad. What is it about Sean, anyway? He has a beard.”

  “Oh, but it’s a very neat, trimmed beard. And I told you, the way he hits the piano keys is really exciting.” She giggled softly when he lifted her onto the table, the dire mood of just moments ago broken.

  “Well, I can do that, too. I’m not that bad at the piano myself. Don’t go on about Sean, I’ll have to take some really drastic measures to get him out of your head otherwise. It’s my fault, I should never have let you meet him.”

  She laid her arms around his neck to return his kiss.

  “You worry too much, Jon.” she whispered against his mouth, sweetly, enticingly.

  Very reluctantly he let her go again when she pushed against him, realizing how deftly she had turned him away from the subject that really mattered by teasing him about Sean again.

  “We will have to talk about money and all the other stuff soon. You know you and Joshua are my responsibility, and I want you to be, very much. So we’ll ask him if he wants to change schools.”

  She nodded silently.

  A few melodious sounds escaped the strings as he laid the instrument back in its case. “If he would like to go to Juilliard, we could get an apartment in Manhattan. Would you like an apartment in Manhattan, Baby? Maybe one with a view of the Met?”

  There was no reply, so he turned. “Naomi?”

  She was still sitting on the table, fiddling with her braid, absentmindedly watching the cars on the pier. “You need a studio. I’m thinking we could convert some of the rooms.”

  Yes, that too. It almost seemed to him as if they were moving toward building a new reality. Abruptly, he rose and left the room to see Solveigh. It was time to set things in motion. He was gone nearly two hours.

  Jon walked into his room when he returned from his talk with Solveigh.

  The place looked sadly neglected. They were in Naomi’s apartment most of the time, sharing that space in complete harmony, never getting in each other’s way or feeling crowded. He relished that and saw it as a sign that they could indeed make a life together. It seemed to him as if all the things that might have kept them apart had been pared away.

  Jon wondered, as he searched for his cell ph
one, how much of that was a result of them being here in this isolated place, where the outside world rarely intruded or diverted them from their own, small existence?

  “Hey.” Sal’s voice sounded raspy. “Do you know what time it is here? And it’s a Saturday, Jon.”

  He had forgotten and this filled him with satisfaction. California seemed like a different dimension.

  “Sal,” Jon said, going out to the deck for a cigarette. “I need you to do some things for me. Listen up!”

  “Do you know,” Sal interrupted, “that hotel your lovely lady manages belongs to her family?”

  Jon stopped in mid-breath. He hadn’t of course, and she had not mentioned it once. More secrets. How well she kept those until he stumbled on them.

  “Yes, whatever,” was the best he could come up with, which earned him a derisive laugh from Sal.

  “Yeah, you didn’t know. I bet you didn’t find the time to talk about a lot, right? Hey, you didn’t need to go all the way to Norway for that, Jon.”

  Jon could hear the hissing noise of a coffee maker and the soft murmur of a female voice in the background. He was beginning to feel the cold even though he was wearing one of the sweaters he had bought in Bergen, a colorful, hand-knitted thing with a high collar and sleeves that were slightly too long. Sal would have a laughing fit if he ever saw him in it, not to mention the thick woolen socks he’d become so fond of.

  “Shut up, Sal. Just do as I ask, and do it quickly.”

  “Yes, my Master, so I shall. As always. Say hello to Naomi, will you?” A brief pause, then: “How is she doing, Jon? How does she cope with you being there?”

  Just fine, Jon wanted to reply, but didn’t. Just fine, and she loves me. She’s mine again, and this time she will be forever. But he did not say it because he knew Sal would have another biting reply that he did not want to hear.

  Being who he was and doing things the way he was used to doing them meant they flew on a private plane to London. At the airport, a limousine and driver were waiting for them.

  Jon shrugged her dubious look away. “Do you really expect me to do this driving-on-the-left-side-of-the-road thing?” was all he said.

  It was a lot warmer in London than it had been in Halmar, and a promise of spring was in the air. The first touches of green on some of the trees broke the monotony of a city in winter, and gardeners were busy planting blooming shrubs in neat rows along the paths in the hotel garden.

  “I look like a Norwegian farmer,” Jon said as they walked through the lofty hall with the marble columns and dark green carpeting. “I definitely need city clothes. And you?”

  Naomi stopped on the broad stairs leading down to the busy street.

  Bustling life greeted them, the noise, movement, and smells of the big city as it launched into its daily rhythm. The traffic just outside the hotel was stalled by a construction site across the road, three red buses had stopped right in front of them with taxis trying to find their way around, drivers shouting and blowing their horns in a futile attempt at movement. If she leaned forward just a little, Naomi could see the grand facade of Harrods and a good stretch of Brompton Road. On the other side was the curve of Knightsbridge and the green wall of Hyde Park. She felt as if she was right in the heart of London.

  The car took them the short ride to Bond Street, and Jon dismissed it until further notice.

  “I’m going to buy clothes,” he stated. “Enough to last me for a while. I just don’t feel like having someone pack up my stuff back in LA and send it here. It’s kind of nice to start out fresh, don’t you think?”

  She was not going to spoil these precious, enchanted days by voicing her worries and doubts, so she sat and watched as he ordered the shop girls around, picking out shirts and shoes, a new black leather jacket, and fine cashmere sweaters that looked a lot more natural on him.

  There were, on a display right next to her, a couple of purses, and she picked one up, enjoying the touch of the fine leather and the exquisite stitching.

  “Hey, Babe.”

  She had not seen him, absorbed as she was, and returned the thing to its place guiltily, as if he had caught her in an illicit act.

  “Is there anything you want? That purse? You want it?”

  Naomi shook her head.

  “Naomi, don’t be ridiculous. If you want that bag, it’s yours and you know it. Hell, Baby, anything you want. Please?”

  She drew up her shoulders and clamped her hands in her lap. “Later. I want to go to Harrods for some tea and maybe…”

  Jon looked at her for a moment. “All right,” he said very softly, then went to pay for his things.

  Back out on the street he took her hand and began walking. It was a busy time of day, with many people around, strolling, chatting, moving in and out of guarded store entrances. They walked past all the big labels until Jon stopped in front of Tiffany’s.

  “This is it, then.” He turned to face her, right in front of the liveried valet. “Will you marry me? And soon? Will you set a date, right now, no more waiting?” His fingers gripped hers tightly. “Please let me set this right. We should have done this all that time ago.”

  The valet was trying very hard not to listen, but Jon was oblivious, bent on getting the answer he wanted. She opened her lips for a reply, but nothing came.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Jon urged. “It’ll be alright. You know we can’t walk away from each other anymore. You know this is the only possible future for us.”

  Silently she shook her head at him.

  “I just can’t let you go, Naomi. I don’t care where we live or if I never release another song, but I don’t want to give you up ever again. You’re afraid of living in Los Angeles, I understand that. So we won’t go there. But I want you with me. And if you don’t want to marry me, fine. I’ll just…I’ll just hang around.”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  It took a moment to register.

  “You’re so stupid sometimes,” Naomi said. “What did you think? You promised it would be okay, so I’m going to take your word for it.” And, after a pause, “Anyway, I won’t ever get to see Sean again otherwise, right?”

  For once he chose to ignore her teasing and repeated his question. “Will you marry me, Naomi? “

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Well then.”

  She protested, overwhelmed by what he was doing, but he would not listen. “You are my fiancée now,” were his words, “and as such you should be wearing my ring. So let’s buy you a ring.”

  They were seated in a discreet niche and served champagne by a black-clad salesman while trays of diamond rings were displayed for them.

  She let Jon pick one. “It’s your promise to me,” was her reason, “so you should be the one to choose.”

  Afterward, looking at it, she had qualms. But it was his choice, and it looked like the statement he wanted to make. It was a large diamond, the platinum band set with smaller stones all around, a glittering, luxurious thing of incredible beauty.

  And even though she had never thought it possible, something changed between them. The moment he put that ring on her finger, so solemnly and slowly, the feeling shifted. There was a sense of closeness, of belonging, and he gave her a look he had never given her before, and with a proprietary pride in his expression, he escorted her through the door.

  “So, when? Set a date, my love.”

  Back outside, Naomi stood in the cool sunlight, dazed and breathless. Again and again she gazed at her ring. She couldn’t think, much less come up with a wedding date.

  To give her time, he suggested lunch.

  Over cocktails Naomi said tentatively: “But how will it go, Jon? You know you can’t just leave your real life like that. It’s a pretty dream, but it’s not a true option. I can’t live in Hollywood, I just can’t. I’m not made for that kind of existence, and you can’t give it up. You’re famous, you’re needed—”

  “I’m needed.” He opened the menu. “A few months ago I turned fort
y-four. I’ve given my youth, my creativity, and my love to my career. You, I gave you to my career and my fame and wealth. I have achieved everything, career-wise, anyone could dream of. Hell, I can’t walk down a street without being noticed, I have so much money I don’t even know how to spend it all. But what’s it all worth, I ask you, if I have to do this alone? If there is no one to do it with? Who will love me for the songs I come up with, if it’s not the one I want in my life?”

  “Everybody loves you, Jon.” She swirled the cherry in her drink.

  “Yes.”

  Naomi looked up at him, startled by the bitterness in his voice.

  “Everybody loves the star, Naomi. But me? I don’t think there are a lot of people who really care about me that much. Sal, he’s a good friend, but in the end he loves the money I make for him more. Sean? Well, yes. My mother, and my brother and sister; they see the normal man in me. Or at least I hope so.”

  He took a sip of his bourbon and lit another cigarette.

  “But it’s not the kind of love I want, Babe, and you know it. You.” He smiled at her. “You have always refused to judge me by who I am when I’m on stage. That day in Geneva, when you walked into that hotel lobby and looked at me, there was nothing of that in your eyes. Truly nothing. And that’s why I need you so badly, and why I love you. Because you see me, Jonathan Stone, and not the centerfold from some girl’s magazine.”

  He shrugged, his humor winning against the darker side of his thoughts. “On the other hand, you also refuse my life, my house, the parties and the glamour, which of course is going to turn me into a Norse country-rat with woolen socks and terrible sweaters, but so be it.”

  “You are such a goof.” Naomi sighed. “For you, everything is easy and simple. But it won’t be like that, Jon. Your life will reclaim you, and then you will have to decide how far you’re prepared to go.”

  But in the end, it did not matter.

  The ring threw its radiant sparks at her, reminding her she had made a promise.

  Strolling through Burlington Arcade later, reality caught up with them when a couple of women, standing next to them in front of a shop window, recognized Jon and nearly became hysterical. Graciously he allowed them to take photographs, posing with them and smiling into their cameras while Naomi withdrew into the comfort of a bakery where she watched the women as they hung on his arm and twittered like excited birds.