Under the Same Sun (Stone Trilogy) (34 page)

She didn’t react.

“So.” He wanted to shake her, shake the bitterness out of her, tell LaGasse to turn around and then, back in their bedroom, force her to put on something happier. “Where do you want to go for dinner?”

“You pick.” It wasn’t as if she sounded angry, upset; Jon was sure he could have lived with that. It was more like she had given up, locked away her hurt deep inside, so deep that she could neither talk about it nor cry. She was like a statue, frozen in her grief.

He was about to suggest the Russian Tea Room, remembering how happy they had been there during their lunch with the theater people last Christmas, when she said, “Let’s go to the hotel. It’s close to Lincoln Center, and maybe we can pick up a brochure for the season while we are there.”

“Oh, so you still want to go to the opera with me.”

That made her turn to him. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because, dear heart,” Jon took her hand. As always when she was upset, it was ice-cold, her fingers as stiff and hard as sticks. “Because you’re treating me as if you’re thinking of running away again. You look it too, with that severe dress and your chin held at that forbidding angle. You look as if you can’t decide if you want to kill me or leave me.”

She pulled back from him and picked up her clutch from the seat beside her.

“You really want to go to your parents’ place, Naomi? I’m not sure that’s a good idea, with the mood you’re in right now.” His stomach was in knots thinking about a clash between her and Olaf. “It would be a little like gate-crashing, wouldn’t it? I mean, Ethan and Josh will be there, and maybe even Carl.”

“So now I can’t even go and see my son when I want to, Jon? Are you in league with my father in getting him away from me?” Her eyes sparkled with the fury of unshed tears. “I’ve spent my entire life centered around Joshua and you, I gave up everything, everything, first you, so I could raise Josh in a peaceful place and not in your sex, drugs, and rock’ n’ roll den, and then I gave up my son so he could grow into the fine musician he is supposed to be; and now you and Olaf turn it against me, use it against me to alienate Joshua. That’s what you’re doing. You and my father, you are making these decisions, and I’m not having any say. In Hamburg I told you I trust you, but now I’m not so sure.” She had to take a couple of deep breaths before she could go on, her voice brittle with sorrow. “I raised Joshua, Jon. Not you. He’s only your son because I told him, because I caved and told him my dirty secret. Everything he is, everything he has grown into, none of that is to your credit. The only part you had in Joshua was some heated sex. That’s all. He’s my son. Not yours.”

They had left the bridge a while ago and turned onto Centre. Jon leaned forward, tapped on the pane separating them from the driver. As soon as the car had stopped at the curb, he opened the door and got out. It was hot; the air smelled of dust and fumes.

For a moment he stood, trying to collect himself enough to speak calmly.

“I’m willing to take a lot from you, Naomi. I’m willing to see you run from me over and over again, and wait for you to return. I’ll even go after you. But here it ends. I’ll not sit here and listen to you telling me that Joshua is not my son and that I have no say in his life. That is more than even I can take.”

He slammed the car door and walked away to the next crossing, where he hailed a cab and got into it without looking back even once.

J
on regretted his actions the moment the taxi had gone two blocks, and he made the driver turn around; but of course the limousine was gone by the time they got to the spot where he had left it. Undecided he stood on the curb, looking up and down the road while the sun slowly wandered toward the west, cursing himself.

She was gone. Again, she was gone, and this time it was entirely his fault.

Jon dug out his cell phone and tried to call her, but as he had expected, she did not pick up.

Rush hour traffic pulsed around him on the sidewalk and the street, and there was no free cab in sight. Slowly walking north, he tried to hail one from time to time, but it was hopeless. He walked west, hoping he’d be luckier once he got to Broadway.

It was a long, lonely walk. No one looked at him; no one noticed the famous man making his way across Manhattan on a summer evening, his hands in his pockets and his head lowered, a cloud on his brow. He walked all the way to Canal and then stood at the street corner, Broadway stretching away along the island and Canal, with its seedy shops, leading into the tunnel, and remembered how only a day earlier Naomi had nearly jumped out of the car, so happy to be back. Her joy in the city had amused him, had made him look fondly at New York and forget its grime and darker side. Her enthusiasm was infectious, like a bright flame, like a flame he needed to give him life, and he missed her already.

His anger washed away. She was right. She was right. She had raised Joshua on her own, in the small, silent world she had created for them in Norway, where time had a different meaning, and love. Just when he finally managed to catch a free cab, Jon admitted to himself that he had no choice.

He had to go after her, find her, make her understand that he would always be on her side, would always stand with her against the world and let no harm come to her again, ever.

Dropping into the back of the cab, he gave the name of the hotel to the driver and told him to hurry.

chapter 32

T
he Hotel Royal was situated on a street corner right across from Lincoln Center, with the best possible view of the plaza and the Met.

Jon gazed at the graceful bows of the large windows for a while, recalling their stay last year and how the first small pieces of her wall of secrets had crumbled.

He had walked into love so blindly, let it take him prisoner. He had never cared about her family, where she came from, or even who she was, not for a moment. She had been a mystery, a perfect dream, and that had been enough.

It still was, Jon admitted, entering the lobby of the hotel; he did not care at all about the wealth and the business. He wanted life to be simple: write songs, sing them, love Naomi. That summed it up for him. If he reduced it to bare necessities, that was pretty much it.

“Olaf Carlsson,” he said to the girl at the reception, putting his hand down on the counter. “I’m his son-in-law.”

She gave him that look he knew only too well. He could see the instant of shock in her young, pretty face, fading into delight and then shyness, before her training won and she turned professional again.

“Right away, sir,” she replied, and picked up the phone.

Olaf greeted him at the door to the private penthouse apartment, surprised, delighted, with a bright smile, napkin in hand.

“Jon! We’re having dinner. How nice of you to join us; come on in!”

Jon still thought it was suspicous to see him this friendly, and he had to struggle with a response. Before he could say anything, Olaf peered around him and asked, “And where is Naomi? Did she not come with you? Don’t tell me she is sitting alone at home, fuming? Jon, going to Harvard is a good choice for Joshua. She should be delighted.”

“I thought she was here.” The words felt like barbed wire on his tongue. “I thought she’d come here.” He did not add that he had expected to find them embroiled in a drama of spectacular dimensions.

“No.” Lucia had joined them. “No, Naomi is not here, and she didn’t call either. What is going on, Jon?”

“Nothing.” His throat was too dry with fear to swallow. “I must have misunderstood her. Thought she said she was coming here.”

“Was she coming downtown?” Olaf motioned him to come inside, but Jon did not move. He could hear the voices of the boys from somewhere inside the large condo. The smell of grilled meat and garlic turned his stomach over.

“Yes. No. We were going out for dinner, but…” There was no way he was going to tell Olaf about their fight, about his reaction to her bitter statement. “But our plans changed. We parted, and obviously it wasn’t totally clear where we would meet up again.”

“So call her,” Lucia suggested, “and ask her where she is.”

“Yes. Yes. I will do that.” The elevator was right behind him and now he took a step back, ready to press the button, but Lucia grabbed his shirt sleeve.

“Jon, stay. You have a funny look on your face. What is going on? I want you to come in and tell me. Come in, have a drink, and tell us why you are here, of all places, looking for Naomi. Has something happened?”

But he shook his head. “No. No, Lucia. Not with Joshua here. I’ll call you. I have to find her first. Don’t worry. I’ll call you.” He left before they could go on asking, the confusion and dawning fear on their faces the last thing he saw before the elevator doors hissed closed and he was alone.

Jon was about to ask for a limo at the reception desk when he noticed LaGasse coming toward him, her brow in a frown. “Sir? I can’t find Mrs. Stone. She got out of the car and told me to wait for her—she had something to do on her own, and she would be back in a moment—to meet her here in the lobby. But I can’t find her. I did exactly as instructed, sir.”

“Your orders are to never leave her side.” Jon was ready to throttle the thin, pale throat of the bodyguard. “That’s your job, isn’t it? You are supposed to protect her!”

“That’s right, sir, and I do. But when your wife tells me she doesn’t want me around for something, then I can’t force myself on her. She’s not my hostage; I’m her protector.” LaGasse faced him squarely, unafraid. “She said she wanted to see her parents and did not need me.”

“And now she’s gone.” He didn’t even know where to begin to look. He didn’t know what to say to LaGasse or where to turn with his growing fear.

“Sir.” She was waiting beside him, as collected as ever. “Sir, if I may make a suggestion.”

Jon grunted. The cell phone was in his hand again, and he was pressing the speed dial for Naomi’s number.

“Sir,” LaGasse said, “the best thing to do is go home and wait. If Mrs. Stone has not returned or contacted you in six hours, it’s time to call the police. They won’t do anything right now. She might have just gone shopping and lost her cell or something.”

He knew.

Abduction scenarios, every aspect of them, every possibility—they had been part of his life for so long now, a constant danger, a daily threat, and one that had only grown with his marriage and Joshua’s legal adoption. He and Sal had been over it so often, had carefully discussed the security measures for his new family, had tried to make them safe and happy despite Naomi’s desire for freedom. Now, standing with her bodyguard in the lobby of her father’s hotel, Jon realized that it was all an illusion. She had slipped away like a wisp of fog, and they had no chance in the world to find her right now.

“Yes.” Funny, it was funny how often he kept saying that word today when he hadn’t been able to say it to her, to Naomi, knowing so well how hurt she was.

“Yes, you’re right. Let’s go back.” For a second he wondered if he should inform Olaf that Naomi was missing but then decided against it.

London, Hamburg…she did it all the time and then came back with a new lipstick or a different hairstyle, and now that she was in New York perhaps she had just grabbed the chance and gone off on her own to do some sightseeing, some shopping.

Jon held on to that thought as he waited on the steps of the hotel for LaGasse to get the car. She had suggested he go with her to the garage in the basement, but he had refused. He wanted to be here until the last moment, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Naomi would come around
the corner, a couple of shopping bags on her arm, and everything would be as before.

H
e called Sal, who asked, “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

The memory of those words washed down Jon’s back like icy slush. Sal had said the same thing to him all those years ago, after Naomi had left him for the first time, and he remembered how he had felt then only too well. In a rush of panic, Jon went to look, but her clothes were there. She had not come back to pack and go for good.

“I’ll be right over.” Sal’s voice sounded raspy. “You know I just arrived today, Jon. We need to get in gear for the tour, and here you are on another drama trip with your wife? What have you done to drive her away this time?”

“Nothing. I’ve done nothing.” Anger replaced the panic. “Get your ass over here, Sal, and quickly.”

“Jon.” Sal cleared his throat. “I’m still at the airport. I haven’t even picked up my luggage yet. I haven’t had a decent meal in eight hours, and I’m tired. I’m going to my hotel now, and once I’ve showered and eaten I’ll get back to you. Seriously, Jon. Call the police or something if you think something’s wrong. How long has she been gone this time?”

Jon glanced at his watch. “Four hours, and not a word.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. Then Sal said, “All right. I’ll be there right away,” and hung up.

The bedroom was so quiet. He sat on the edge of the bed where he could see her dresses hanging in the wardrobe, her purses sitting on the shelf beneath them. There was not a whole lot; in fact it was a pitiful collection compared to the LA house. He had loved to go into her dressing room and run his hands over the silk and fine linen of her clothes, breathe in the faint scent of her perfume that seemed to always linger there, touch the jewelry boxes on the table, make sure she had all the luxury and beauty he could provide.

Dusk settled over the city while Jon waited for something to happen, for Naomi to return or for Sal to show up. He was about to call Olaf a couple of times but stopped. Having him around, to hear his accusations and bear his anger was more than he could take right now. He wandered through the house once more, peered into the empty rooms, and listened to the echo of his own breath.

The kitchen was still without a coffeemaker. He had completely forgotten about it, and now he stood staring at the empty counter and wondered if he could risk going out to get a cup and a bagel from the deli down the street, but then decided not to. The fear that she might come home and leave again if she didn’t find him here was too great.

Sal arrived some time after nine.

“What did you do, Jon?” He looked around the entry hall. “What have you said or done now? Good grief, I can’t take this anymore. Why is it so impossible for the two of you to settle down? What happened? I want to know. If you call me and want me to come here and help you, I have a right to know.”