The Distant Shore (Stone Trilogy)

by Mariam Kobras

  “Baby, you come home with new diamonds, and you’ll see what happens to you. I’m telling you, you don’t want to find out.”

  “Promises, promises. You are setting a high standard for yourself.” She left before he could come up with a response.

  Naomi felt apprehensive as Jon drove up to the gate of the mansion that night. The driveway was lit up and looked like a silver ribbon leading into the jungle that was the huge front garden. From the road, only the red roof of the house could be seen over the swaying bamboo groove and rambling jasmine bushes. Nothing had changed. The place seemed untouched by time, as if it had fallen into a long slumber, awaiting her return. It frightened her a little to see this immense testimony to hope and how everything seemed to turn on her presence.

  “Here we are.” Jon turned off the engine when they reached the house but didn’t move, awaiting her reaction.

  He watched her look up at the white façade, the graceful entrance so brilliantly lit up. The curtains blew lazily in the open French doors, as if waving an invitation to enter. Palm trees swayed in the wind with a dreamy rustle around the deep porch.

  “It’s just as beautiful as I remembered.”

  The shopping trip with Solveigh had transformed her into a scantily dressed beach beauty, utterly tempting, and as she climbed out of the car in her shorts and tiny top and tossed her mane over her shoulder he gazed in admiration at her bare legs. His heart had nearly stopped in shock when she had walked into the studio late this afternoon, seeing her like that, her hair loose and visibly shorter, her feet in red high-heeled sandals, giving him a sultry glance over the rim of her sunglasses. It had been difficult to work after that.

  Art’s girlfriend Sue was a little abashed at having Jon as her guest. The fact that he was also the owner of the house didn’t make it any easier, but Art broke the tension by saying, “We’re going to let you do your thing, Sue and I are going to sleep. Make yourselves at home.” He laughed at his own joke.

  “No way.” Naomi embraced first him and then Sue. “You are staying right here. I’m sure you have some Irish whiskey stowed away. We are going to sit on the porch and enjoy the evening for a while.”

  They talked in low voices, swirling the ice cubes in their glasses and watching the smoke of the men’s cigarettes vanish into the blue night. After a while, Naomi asked Sue if she could walk around the house. Sue offered to accompany her, but Naomi declined; she needed to do this on her own.

  The kitchen was different. A wall had been taken down and replaced by a counter. The huge living room didn’t look uninhabited anymore, with different furniture and paintings on the walls and books, flowers, and magazines on a low table.

  Outside the bedroom Naomi stopped, hand on the knob. Here it was, finally, the one place she had so wished never to see again, and yet she found herself here voluntarily.

  The door to the roofed terrace stood wide open to let in the night breeze. It was the same room, with the same canopied bed and blue carpet, and yet it was not the same. Naomi let the memories wash over her.

  There was the corner she had fled to, naked, frantic with fear, and right here Jon had stood, raging at the police while they handcuffed him and made their dirty jokes. Slowly she retraced the steps she had taken that night, down the stairs to the big hallway and into the kitchen once more, to the living room and Jon’s studio. The front door had stood open, so she opened it and stepped outside.

  Only the Porsche was out there, and the faint light from the garage. The cicadas were singing their nightsong, and the rhythmic surf in the distance was pounding like a heartbeat. There was peace, tranquility, and the murmur of familiar voices.

  Try as she might, she could not recapture the turmoil and panic of that night. She stood here now, looking back at that night in an almost clinical way. She saw herself, lonely and helpless, amid the debris of the party. Still a child in almost every sense, and she understood what she had felt then, even felt sorry for that young girl, but she could not relive her feelings anymore.

  This insight surprised and saddened her immensely. The time she had thrown away and wasted made her want to cry.

  She heard footsteps, then Art appeared. “Oh, it’s you. Are you done remembering? What happened back then, love? What was so bad that you felt you had to leave Jon like that?”

  To her surprise, she opened her mouth and drew a breath to answer before she could stop herself.

  “Reliving it now, it seems funny. But back then I was so scared and beside myself, so raw from the crazy life we were leading. Artie, I had nothing. All of you were gone, and I didn’t even have enough money to buy a plane ticket. I had no idea what to do, what was to come. I was twenty-one, and really still a kid. A pregnant kid.”

  “Yeah.” He fumbled for cigarettes in his jeans pocket. Before he could light one, Naomi went on. “The police came into the bedroom. They were crude and shameless and scared the living daylights out of me. You should have seen Jon when they pulled him out of bed. He was so furious!” With amusement she watched as he dropped his cigarette. “They made crude remarks about the rock star and how they would like to watch as he did his little chickie, the one who was naked and crying in the corner of the room, and maybe they could have their turn with her afterward. Jon was drunk and high that night.” She turned to look Art in the eyes. “He had forgotten, Art. He didn’t remember it at all, he was that doped up. So now you know why I hated you so much. And I wasn’t going to take it anymore, and so I ran.”

  He bent down to retrieve his cigarette and lit it. “I’m not sure if you had stayed that you would have been able to change anything. Things can look different in retrospect. You understand that even though you regret your choices, the alternative would not have been good either and would not have been a situation you could have lived with.” He shrugged his lean shoulders with resignation. “Sometimes there are only bad choices, and you hope you make the least painful one. Seems to me you made the right one, even though now you mourn the lost time.”

  “But Artie,” she protested softly, but he only shook his head.

  “No, really, Naomi. Maybe it wasn’t necessary for it to be so very long, but for Jon, it was the right thing to happen, maybe for all of us. It shook him badly, made him grow up overnight, and he was finally ready to take on the responsibility and make his own decisions. He was beside himself, but in a weird manner, it as if someone had taken away his favorite toy. Only after a while did the loss seem to take its toll, and he became introspective and thoughtful and then moved out into that hovel to be alone. Sal was furious, but I think Jon made the right decision. He needed to grow up, and in the end, it was you who forced him to do it.” Art shrugged again, but this time in a slightly malicious manner. “You did him a big favor. Whatever he is today, he is because of you. You forced him to take a step back and look at his life outside of his professional success. A person can get lost in fame, you know, and leave their soul behind. He found his because of the pain.” Gently he touched her arm. “And, love, don’t fret. You two have all the time in the world.”

  Naomi sat down on the top step and drew up her knees. Art crouched down beside her. They did not speak for a while, watching the moths dance around the lamp beside the stairs. They sat in companionable silence, both lost in their own memories.

  The music had flowed around them all the time, the tunes Jon created dominating everything. They had bowed to it and its wonder, and the magic he could do.

  Naomi plucked a blossom from the bush beside her and rubbed it between her fingers until only mush was left. “What do you think, Artie, will he be able to live in Halmar with me? Or will it make him unhappy in the long run?”

  “I can’t see any reason why it shouldn’t work, unless you prefer the nicer weather here. And really, now that you have chased your demons away, why shouldn’t you both be happy and split your time? You have a house here waiting for you to return.”

  “No,” she demurred, “It’s yours now.”

 
; “Ha!” He laughed merrily. “Take the big old thing off my hands any time you like. Sue wants to live in the hills. She wants us to move up to Napa and get a vineyard, have a horse, a couple of dogs, and some kids. Just say the word, and we’re out of here. Really. I’ve been more of a caretaker than a resident.”

  Art got up and brushed off his jeans. “I’ll tell you what. Don’t make any decisions right now, just let it roll. You’ll be staying for a while, so get the feel of it and don’t think. Have some fun, and show the city who’s the boss now.” He pulled her up. “Let’s go back inside, before your old man thinks you’ve deserted him again.”

  Joshua had joined Sue and Jon, a huge container of ice cream on his knees. He was listening to their exchange about some award ceremony where another singer had spilled a glass of beer all over Jon’s suit just before he was to go on stage and receive a prize, and how he had sent Art up instead and hadn’t been able to make up his mind whether he was furious or relieved by the whole thing.

  “You were furious.” Art interjected. “I remember the way you smiled. Shark’s teeth.”

  Naomi wandered off into the garden.

  It was dark under the foliage of the trees and the overhanging bushes; the white tiles under her feet shone, leading her along until she stood before the gate where she could look out to the sea through the mesh, out to the surf that had picked up with the tide. There would be new debris for her to sift through in the morning. But for now, the beach was empty, silent, dreaming in the moonlight. Just the kind of night when they could escape from the house and go down to the water all by themselves.

  Off to her left, deep amid the oleander, was the stone bench. It stood in an arbor all by itself, a hidden, secret place with only a small pebbled trail leading to it. The marble was cool under her legs as she sat down, the tendrils of the bushes tangling in her hair. The quiet was so deep and dark that she could hear her own breathing. Here the cover for their album had been shot on that hot day when Jon had been so exhausted from the load laid on him with his sudden, frightening fame.

  She heard the footsteps before she saw him.

  “Hiding, Baby? Alone here in the dark you look like a fairy in the moonlight. Very alluring and lonely. I think I’ll go with you to your fairy kingdom and be doomed.”

  He had always been able to create magic moments like this with just the right words.

  “Not hiding.” She made room for him on the bench. “Thinking. Remembering the day they took those pictures for the album and how tired and lonely and distressed you were. ”

  Jon drew her close, his hands warm and firm on her waist.

  “Tired and distressed, yes. Lonely, no. You were right here, so no, not lonely. How do you feel about being here now? Is it bearable? Have you been through the house?”

  “Yes.” Her fingers touched his chest where his shirt was open, trailing over his skin. “Kiss me. Do you know how to do that?”

  “Do I know how to kiss you? Are you crazy?”

  He kissed her lingeringly, sweetly, his arms tightening around her. It was just the way it had been. They had spent here so many nights in this secluded corner, talking and exchanging caresses.

  “I was in our bedroom,” Naomi said. “It looks nearly the same, but the fear and the shame were nowhere to be found. I walked through the entire house trying to find that fear and shame, but they weren’t there. All I found were sweet memories of times gone by, and a much nicer kitchen than we used to have. Really, maybe we should forget about the whole future thing and just cherish the lovely memories.”

  “You are utterly out of your mind.” His grip loosened in shock. “Ah, you are joking! Little beast, that’s not a nice thing to do. You could kill me, I’m old enough to have a heart attack from such a scare.”

  She laughed out loud. “You silly man. You won’t have a heart attack until I say so. And anyway, if you don’t give yourself a heart attack with all the exertion you get in bed, then it certainly won’t happen from a little shock. Come on. Let’s get back to the others, poor Joshua will think we ran away.”

  On their way back she remarked how the garden had not changed at all, and Jon told her he had told Art not to alter anything and not to take down the towering bushes. Art had complained that it was nothing but a couple of tiled paths through a wilderness, good for nothing but keeping away onlookers. He very much wanted a real garden with lawns and roses and a swimming pool. But Jon had been adamant. No, this had been Naomi’s favorite place. They could rebuild the kitchen all they wanted, but the shrubs were staying put, and the cedar grove as well.

  You couldn’t even see the beach, Art had argued. What good was such a huge property in Malibu if you couldn’t see the surf?

  Sit on the balcony, Jon had suggested; the water was perfectly visible from there. But don’t touch the master bedroom or the roof terrace. Those were the conditions.

  Sell the damn place, Art had said, and be done with it.

  But he could not bring himself to do it, and so here they were, and his wildest, most fantastic dreams had come true. She was with him again, laughing, wrapping her arms around him, moving against him as they strolled under the cedars, her bare waist warm and silken under his hands, her lips willing and open to his.

  “Will you let me take you to bed now?” Jon asked, a little breathless from his thoughts and the feel of her naked skin. “Will you sleep with me in that bed again? Will you let me finish what we started before we were so rudely interrupted the last time we lay there?”

  Joshua had retired when they returned to the house; Art and Sue were busy clearing the table and didn’t even look up when Jon bade them good night.

  In silence, Naomi followed him up the stairs, excitement and some feeling she could not name growing in her, not trepidation or fear, but something that seemed almost like it, a notion that this was the last, final step she had to take before all that had happened in the past few months became reality and lost its dreamlike quality. It was the place where she had last seen him before she had run away. It was the last image of him that she had carried with her.

  She never knew if Jon shared that feeling or realized what was going through her mind, but he took her hand in his and stood for a moment before he led her inside. Willingly she entered with him, but as the door shut softly behind them, she asked, “Do you think we could lock it this time?”

  “Go buy some evening gowns,” Russ told them over lunch a few days later. “We’re going out. Harry invited us to a movie premiere. You want to meet Brad Pitt, don’t you?” he grinned like a schoolboy when Solveigh’s face lit up.

  Naomi, without even looking at him, held out her hand to Jon, and he laid his car keys and credit card in it with a small sigh.

  “Don’t get too used to that Porsche. I’m getting you a Rolls and a bodyguard today. Your days of flirting with strange men from a convertible are numbered, my dove.” The words were spoken lightly, but she knew there was a stark reality behind them.

  Rising, she kissed his temple. “Don’t worry. You’ll be too busy staring at me in my new gown to care about cars. But if you really want to buy a Rolls, make it silver, please, with tinted windows.”

  It was the perfect evening for a grand Hollywood party. The sun was setting by the time they arrived at the luxurious resort in the hills, and the palm trees along the road swayed gently in a refreshing breeze. The sky was the color of a turquoise Egyptian beetle, mixed with the peach and rose of porcelain and spring flowers, as beautiful as a Turner painting.

  “Are you ready?” Jon asked when the limousine stopped in front of the well-lit entrance.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Flashlights exploded around them as they walked to the entrance, waving to the spectators and the press.

  The ballroom and garden were filled with celebrities and those that strove to be among them. There were legions of photographers and beautiful women. There were flowers and music and a luxurious buffet. Liveried waiters with large trays of champagne and sa
ucy maids in scanty costumes carried platters of appetizers and finger food, circulating easily among the guests. Hundreds of white blossoms floated in the pool beneath the twinkling lights strung in the palm trees.

  “Very pretty.” Solveigh gazed at her surroundings critically. “We could do that, on the bay. But where would we find enough well-toned and tan boys to serve the booze?”

  She was mildly scandalized by Naomi’s new dress—a silver creation with a nearly transparent chiffon skirt—and told her so, saying she was only wearing it to provoke attention, to which Naomi shrugged coolly and replied, “Of course.” After a moment, she added, “If he is going to flaunt me in public, then they should have something to talk about. No Norwegian country girl for my Jon, Solveigh.”

  He was not far away, talking to Harry and Russ, his posture easy, hand in his trouser pocket, photographers circling him like birds waiting for crumbs to drop from his fingers. Some of them veered toward her, speculating expressions on their faces, but none dared come too close.

  “Yeah, at their peril.” She heard a well-known voice behind her. “They don’t dare touch what’s his. It’s like belonging to a mafia boss in a way.”

  Sal grinned at her like a hungry shark. “You are stunning. He has turned you into a proper LA girl. Where has all your sweetness and clarity gone, the pure light I loved so much in you?”

  “Do you really think an expensive gown and some makeup could corrupt me, Sal? You mustn’t have a very high opinion of me. What a pity. And here I thought you were my one true champion. And where have you been all this time?”

  He reeled a little under the assault. “Have you taken the time to inform your fiancé about your family yet? Or are you still sitting on that dirty little secret? I had quite a chat with your mother, my dear.”

  “Shut up, Sal.” Her shoulders drew up in discomfort, but he laughed.

  “Yeah, like hell. I want to be around when he finds out, or when someone else tells him.” He tossed the cherry from his drink into a flower pot. “But I think you’re safe for a while yet. The poor, besotted fool does not give a damn about who you are. If ever there was proof of love being blind, Jon is it. And seeing you like this, I can see why. But don’t count on it to last forever, honeychild. I might even spill your secrets myself if you don’t own up soon. I’m not letting him walk blindly into marriage with you.”