The Distant Shore (Stone Trilogy)

by Mariam Kobras

  Lucia was close to crying again. It tore Jon’s heart, but he refrained from any comment and only touched Joshua’s hair briefly before he returned to Naomi.

  She was awake and aware but still connected to a number of machines and the beeping heart monitor that drove him crazy with its rhythmic sound. Someone had changed her bedding and made her more comfortable, but she was still as pale as the sheets.

  “My father,” she said. “He is making a fuss. He’s just scared, Jon.”

  “Yes.”

  He sat on the corner of her bed, ignoring the chair and the nurse who tutted softly. “It’s my fault. I know it, Baby. I pushed you out into the public eye, and this happened to you. It would never have happened if we had stayed back in Halmar. Maybe you had it right all along and this life here is not meant for you. God, I hate myself for bringing you here. It was one of the first things you said to me after I found you, that you never wanted to come back. And I compelled you. I made you come, you did what I wanted, and now you suffer the results of my stupid ideas.” When she did not react, he pressed on, desperation rising like bitter bile in his throat. “It’s true I wanted more for you. But you never really asked for it, you were content with your life—”

  “Who said that?” Naomi interrupted him softly. “I don’t think I ever said that.”

  Surprised, Jon stopped and looked up at her. There was a faint smile on her exhausted face. Her breath was short and sounded painful; her words were clipped and forced.

  “But you had built so much for yourself.” Her fingers in his, he wondered what had happened to her rings.

  “Nothing, Jon.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “You still don’t understand, do you? There’s nothing. Safety is nothing. If I had been killed out there, at least I would have died happy.” A tug on his hand to pull his attention away from his black thoughts, then, “Where’s my Oscar? I hope someone thought to pick it up. I want that thing very badly.”

  “You…” he began, but he couldn’t think of anything sensible to say.

  Coffee. She wanted coffee, she complained, and something to eat. She was starving, and all they were offering her was tasteless mush and that abysmal herbal tea. She wanted a shower and proper clothing, or at least a decent nightgown, and a room with a window, not this glass-fronted chamber. Her querulous demands lightened Jon’s heart. The nurses brought her a thin broth, which she sipped gratefully, mumbling that as far as she had been told her stomach wasn’t injured, and she wasn’t eating with her lung, was she?

  “But your liver, dear,” the woman reminded her. “That needs to be watched. You can’t process everything.”

  “My liver,” Naomi replied tartly, “is telling me that it needs coffee to function properly. And some shrimp.”

  Jon laughed. He was so relieved to see her spirit returning. He wanted to rush right out and get her the best shrimp the town had to offer, bring a chef to prepare them at her bedside, along with whatever else she craved, just to make her smile again.

  “Slowly,” he said. “You’ll get everything you want in good time.”

  She dozed off soon afterward, her head turned away from him, the deep fatigue of her injury etched plainly on her face. He had to clamp down tightly on the impulse to just pick her up and carry her home to the safety and comfort of her room where he could wrap her in her silk quilt and pamper her back to health without Olaf’s blistering wind of hate whipping everything and everyone in sight.

  “I think I was dead.”

  He had fallen into a light sleep in his chair and woke at those chilling words. Naomi was looking at him from dark, deep-set eyes, but she reached out for him and tugged his sleeve.

  “I had the weirdest dreams.” A rustling breath, then, “And I couldn’t remember, Jon. I couldn’t see a reason to return. One time I was here, and you were crying and promising all kind of things and loading yourself with guilt, as usual…” A small smile slipped across her dry lips, but it vanished quickly.

  “It hurt so terribly. There was only pain, a burning, screaming pain in my body, and I could not stay.”

  “You weren’t awake, love. Not for a moment. You were sedated so heavily, it was impossible for you to be awake. It was just a dream.” Her words scared him badly.

  She pondered this for a while. “No. I was awake. I must have been awake. For the life of me I can’t think why I would bring your guilty tirades into a dream.”

  Olaf was bitter, and he told her so in no uncertain terms.

  She should never have come back here, he said, standing at the foot of her bed, and she should never have told Joshua who his father was in the first place. She should have remained in Halmar, where they had put her at her own request and where she had been leading a meaningful life instead of playing the wife of a Hollywood star. He brushed away her argument that Joshua had a right to know his father, and Jon his son, stating that there were plenty of children in the world who never knew the identity of their fathers and were perfectly happy.

  Naomi listened to him with growing exhaustion and impatience. His attitude upset her more than she could say, and she felt insulted by it. She was much too weak to argue with him, but Olaf did not see her distress and went on with his harangue even after her eyes had dropped shut.

  “Let me take you back home. You will be so much better off in Kleinburg, Naomi. You know this is not the right place for you. You know it. And he…” Olaf said with enough anger to wake her up again, “he is nothing but trouble. Was then and is now, no matter how many precious jewels he puts on you.”

  When no reaction came from her, Olaf added, “Damn it, Naomi, one of his former girlfriends gunned you down! She wanted you dead and out of the way, and how many others, do you think, will come up with similar ideas? You will never be safe, you will never be able to lead a normal life! Darling, please come home with us.”

  There was sweat on her brow, and her breath came laboriously. “His ex-girlfriend?”

  “Yes, the same one who made that horrible scene right before your wedding, the one who made you nearly drop at my feet when I had to lead you down to your apartment and safety, and you were crying so hard you could barely see. That one, Naomi. She was the one who shot you.”

  “Sophie?”

  Olaf shrugged. “How should I know? The redhead. She was killed, they shot her. Didn’t your husband tell you? Did he think he could keep the truth from you? Two people died, Naomi, and you barely escaped with your life, and all because of him!”

  She stared at her father, her hands gripping the blanket.

  “You’re throwing away your life. Naomi, I want to protect you! We protected you from him for years, and the minute you allow him back in you nearly get killed!”

  Naomi tried to reply, but there was just not enough strength left in her. Her lips moved, her head dropped back against the pillow, and then all hell broke loose as the monitors sent off their alarms and medical personnel came running, pushing Olaf out of the way to get to Naomi.

  The nurses tried to keep Jon back when he tried to storm inside, but he would not have it. Fear gripped his soul when he saw the group of doctors bent over her still form, paddles in the hands of one, a large syringe in another’s, a third listening to her pulse carefully.

  “Yes,” came the verdict, and that needle plunged into her chest. He had stepped into a wild, claustrophobic nightmare, a scene from a bad TV show. Gradually the frantic signals of the monitors silenced one by one, and the nurses and doctors in the room moved away from Naomi until only one physician remained to watch her closely.

  “Your wife,” he explained once the immediate danger was past, “had another cardiac arrest. We can’t figure out why yet; she seemed to be doing so well. Did something happen to upset her? She needs rest and quiet, even if she looks strong to you. It will take her months to heal, Mr. Stone, and she will need all the care in the world during that time, and absolutely no distress.”

  Two nurses returned with a fresh gown to replace the on
e she was still wearing, handling her ever so carefully, whispering calming words even though she was barely conscious, her breath a cruel, rasping sound in the stillness of the room. Naomi’s skin was grey and damp, her lips and eyelids had a bluish tinge, there were purple smudges under her eyes and once again needles in her arms.

  “Baby,” he whispered, uncomprehending and frightened to his bones. “Baby, what happened? I was ready to get you a big pot of Starbucks.”

  Tortured tears slipped across her face as she looked up at him.

  “I think I’m dying, Jon,” he heard her breathe. “I won’t make it. Please, let me die. It hurts so much.”

  He sank down beside her, stunned into speechlessness by her words. All his dreams seemed to end here in this stark, impersonal hospital room with these hissing machines and blinking screens, and the life force seeping out of his beloved like spilled light. Tentatively he reached out to touch her cold hand, but there was no response, not even the slightest movement or pressure, only a passive acceptance, as if it were something she had to endure to get his permission to move on. She had turned her head away and drifted off, into what he did not know—sleep, unconsciousness, or simply a rejection of a world that was too full of pain and sorrow.

  One of the doctors returned to Jon. “I’ve been told that your wife had an altercation with her father before this new crisis. This must not happen again, Mr. Stone.” He paused for emphasis. “She will not survive otherwise. I suggest you ban all visitors. This is not good, not good at all.”

  It did not take Jon long to make his decision. He plucked the cell phone out of his pocket.

  “Solveigh,” he said, “I need you.”

  “Hang up, Jon,” was all she replied after listening for a minute.

  Kevin, he wanted Kevin. He wanted her home where he could close the gates and keep the world out. She would be in her room, or the roof garden on that large daybed, and he would be with her all the time and pamper her back to health himself.

  Her doctor was scandalized when Jon informed him, but he did not budge.

  “It has nothing to do with your hospital. I want those two nurses who’ve been looking after her, and anything else she might need, and it will not be your loss, I promise.”

  He did not leave the small hallway outside her room again, making sure no one but her medical staff entered. No one dared get close to him.

  After he had asked Sal to see to transportation for Naomi, he found his father-in-law and took a deep breath.

  “You’ll not get close to Naomi again until she asks for you explicitly. You will not see her now, and not for a long, long time. If it were my decision she would never see you again.” He looked past Olaf at Lucia. “I’m sorry, Lucia. But Naomi’s heart stopped again. She nearly died, and I have a good idea why that happened. You can go in with me now and say goodbye, but then you’ll leave. I’m through with your family.” In turning, he added, “And don’t even think of contacting Joshua. I’m going to have the lawyers get a restraining order against your husband and anyone else in your family.”

  “You cannot do this. She is our daughter, and Joshua is our grandson!” Olaf took a step toward him, but Jon only raised his hand in a bored gesture.

  “Now, Sal.”

  “Right away, Jon.” Sal moved aside, the phone already in his hand.

  Nothing, Lucia learned bitterly, that concerned her son-in-law was done until he ordered it, and he was very good at ordering people around without seeming to do so. He did it quietly and courteously, using “please” and “thank you” a lot, but in the end he was still dictating his terms to the world. He was impressive, a self-assured and world-wise man with only one thing on his mind: saving his wife. Ignoring Olaf completely, she followed Jon inside to Naomi’s bedside, only to see her unconscious with no chance to bid her goodbye.

  “I can’t allow this, Lucia. She will decide for herself what will happen eventually, but until she does, nothing in her life will change. If she wants to leave me once she is strong enough to make up her mind…” The famous voice cracked on those words. “If she pulls through, I’ll do anything she wishes, I promise, but right now, I’m the one who says what will be done.”

  The dark, intense eyes came to rest on her, and Lucia drew back a little from their scrutiny. “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t deserve Olaf’s attitude, Lucia. I don’t deserve it. I admit to many mistakes, but alienating her from you is not one of them. Please leave now.”

  And she did.

  Solveigh, her growing belly contained in wide jeans, appeared at the hospital a few hours later. She had, she reported, chartered a plane to bring over Andrea and Christi. The hotel would be shut down, compensation made to the guests who had booked for the next few weeks and alternate lodgings found for them. Russ would pick them up from the airport himself and bring them right over. Kevin was on his way too.

  Joshua would be returning to New York and school in a few days, with strict orders not to go anywhere without a phone and his bodyguards.

  “Your Mom will be fine,” Jon promised. “You know I will do everything to make it so, Joshua. She is receiving the best care in the world, and once she is back in her own house, nothing evil or disturbing can touch her. She’ll be back to her old self in no time.”

  The moss was so soft under her feet, the air cool and earthy, almost moist, and it was quiet as a church. Somewhere above, the sun was shining, casting rays through the foliage of the huge, strange trees that rustled ever so gently in the lazy wind. There were deep, dark pools of water among the gently rounded hummocks, rocks like the bent backs of dwarfs digging for jewels under the ground, and tiny white flowers in the folds of the forest floor. It was the most tranquil, beautiful place, even lovelier than the white beach under the stars. Jon was walking beside her, patiently, matching his pace to her slow, halting steps.

  “Can I stay here a little longer,” she asked, “and not return?”

  But he shook his head. “No, Babe, we have a life that needs to be lived. Didn’t you want coffee?”

  The word still echoed in her mind when she opened her eyes to morning sunshine over the ocean and the unmistakable scent of her favorite brew. She had the distinct memory of being moved and carried, of having slept in Jon’s arms, the imprint of his embrace still on her body, and she needed a moment to realize she was not in her hospital room anymore but in her own bedroom.

  “Don’t,” Jon ordered when she tried to move. “Wait.”

  They helped her sit up against the cushions, and she looked into smiling faces she had not seen in a while; Christi, Andrea, Solveigh, and Amparo, a steaming mug in her hands.

  And then, after more than a week of nothing but water and gruel, her first sip of coffee. Naomi fought when Amparo tried to take the cup away from her again, nearly growling at her, to the amusement of her friends, but Amparo was adamant, promising chicken broth later.

  “Toast with butter and strawberry jam, please!” Naomi begged, but again she got a negative reply.

  First, dry toast. Then everything else. And slowly, slowly.

  They chased Jon out and helped her to the bathroom, slowly, carefully, where they let her use the toilet discreetly and then sat her on the rim of the tub to give her a sponge bath and wash her hair.

  Naomi nearly sobbed with relief when the clean nightgown slipped over her head and Solveigh rubbed her hair dry. Christi put lotion on her feet and the dry skin on her legs and arms, and held her when she swayed with exhaustion.

  She was made to walk all the way out to the patio, where they settled her on the bed under the canopy so she could look out to the Pacific and into the hills. They sat with her and chatted like birds, excited to be in Los Angeles and in Jon’s huge mansion by the sea.

  Kevin had arrived and come to look at her, checking her bandage and her vitals and pronouncing that he was pleased and did not really understand all the commotion, since she seemed well on her way to recovery.

  The surgeon who had operated on her c
ame by and smiled in approval.

  Downstairs, to Jon, he said, “I didn’t expect your wife to rally at all. We thought she’d be dead after that last collapse. Now, I’m very hopeful.” He dithered before he went on, “In a way, she’s an invalid now. Her health will never fully recover, and she’ll never again be as robust as she was. But the scarring will not be too bad. With luck, only a thin white line will be visible down her side.”

  “An invalid?” Jon repeated incredulously. “We were hoping for another baby, and we have the tour ahead of us. God, we had so many plans…Our life was just beginning!”

  “Well, not in the immovable, wheelchair way,” Kevin threw in. “But she will never be as strong as she used to be, Jon, and a lot more fragile.” He fell silent, then added slowly, “At some point, depression will set in. You need to be prepared for that. Right now she is still too preoccupied with her physical problems, but when that wears off she will start to think about the whole thing, and the reaction will show.”

  These predictions were hard to believe, seeing her propped up on a heap of silk cushions, her friends around, feeding her little pieces of toast, chatting and laughing, Solveigh braiding her hair, Amparo bringing a huge bouquet of roses sent by Jamal and placing them in a vase by her side.

  Naomi smiled at Jon when she saw him standing in the doorway and asked the others for some privacy, which they granted readily.

  “I feel terrible,” she said when he sat down on the corner of her bed. “You haven’t kissed me since the Oscars and I miss it.”

  “I’ve kissed you plenty, you greedy thing. Only you chose to sleep through it. I kissed you last night when I slept beside you, and you didn’t even notice. Sleeping Beauty would have woken from the many kisses I planted on you, but you didn’t. Must be losing my touch.” To prove his point, he put his lips to hers softly.

  “That’s not a kiss. That’s nothing. No wonder you couldn’t wake me. I mean a real kiss.”

  “Ah, Naomi.” Very carefully he took her in his arms and kissed her again, his tongue playing over her teeth and inside her mouth.