A/N: Looks like I managed to finish the next installment of this series earlier than I thought. It's been a long time since I wrote one that quickly! Here's a late Christmas gift; hope you enjoy!
§ § § – September 27, 2008
It was so late when the charter approached Fantasy Island that only the stars were out to witness their disembarkation at the plane dock. Roarke had instructed the pilot to radio ahead so that some of his employees would be waiting at the dock with rovers and extra manpower to unload all the crates and boxes they had brought from Italy. Lucan was asleep and Marina looked as if she wanted to be; Rogan yawned every few minutes, scowling from time to time. The gentle bump of their landing didn't disturb Lucan at all; since Marina had to carry him, they allowed her out of the plane first, then followed her with two or three boxes apiece. After that, a steady stream of natives, working by floodlights set up near the clearing, completed unloading the plane and transferring everything to the waiting cars. Rogan glanced around as he headed back for another box or two. "I'm looking forward to getting back home to Julie and Rory," he muttered through another yawn. "I hope like hell we don't have to go back to Italy, if we can't find a cure here."
"There would be no point," Marina said, glaring at him. "If we can't find a cure here, on this island, then we'll find it nowhere, for it won't exist."
"Save your energy," Roarke advised. "We must get everything hidden away in the greenhouse before we retire for the night, I'm afraid. Remember," and here he raised his voice for the benefit of the natives, "none of you is to breathe a word to anyone else about this. What little you do know, you must keep to yourselves." There was a murmured consensus, but the natives never stopped moving.
At last the cars were loaded and heading for the bed-and-breakfast inn that Julie ran. Marina rubbed one eye, still holding her son, and peered at what she could see of it in the softly lit night. "How pretty," she mused. "Oh, Mr. Roarke...where will Lucan and I stay?"
"The cottage that once belonged to my former assistant Tattoo is empty," Roarke told her. "We normally use it only when there are more guests than accommodations. Since everything else is full, you and Lucan may make that your home while you're here."
"You'll feel like Gulliver," Rogan commented with sleepy humor. "It's sized for him, so everything's miniaturized. The lad'll fit in fine, but you may find yourself sleeping on the floor under a rug."
"Rogan, I think it might be the better part of discretion for you to cease and desist," Roarke scolded him. "The cottage was renovated after Tattoo left the island, Marina, so you should feel comfortable there. For the moment, let's get to work."
It took fifteen minutes to unload everything again and take it into the greenhouse; then Rogan, with a slurred good-night farewell, headed for the big stone house nearby while Roarke delivered Marina and Lucan to the cottage. He found it a great relief to reach the main house and let himself in; the study was empty and dark, though as he crossed it toward the stairs, the grandfather clock softly chimed 1 AM. Roarke hoped there would be too much preoccupation with the fantasies for Leslie to ask many questions; he planned to tell her eventually, but he wanted to keep Christian in the dark for now. There was too much at stake and Christian was too volatile when it came to amakarna, and they had made far too little progress for Roarke to have much more than hope and determination about their research. He glanced into Leslie's old room, where she and Christian were both sound asleep, and smiled faintly before retreating into his own room for a good night's rest.
§ § §
Dawn was only just beginning to stain the eastern sky; but though Leslie's old dormer room in the main house faced east, the windowshade was down so that there was no sign of daybreak in the room. It wasn't much past five; so when Christian's cell phone began playing the jordisk national anthem, it had all the impact of a thunderclap. Both Enstads jerked awake, moaning in chorus. "Who the hell is that?" Leslie complained sleepily.
Christian muttered something in jordiska that Leslie suspected was objectionable, a phrase he had yet to teach her since she didn't understand it, and reached out to slap the table on his side of the bed till his hand landed on the phone. "Enstad," he muttered, then stifled a groan. "Ben?" His voice was ominous, despite its sleep-induced scratchiness. "Do you realize what time it is here?"
For a moment Leslie frowned, then placed the name: Ben Keller, the manager of Christian's Boston office. Keller had run the place with a deft hand ever since Christian had completed the hiring when it had first opened; thus Christian had never yet been back. She wondered what had happened. The light snapped on and she screwed her eyes more tightly shut in protest.
The mattress began to jiggle and quake, violently enough for Leslie to open her eyes and see Christian pushing himself into a seated position. A scowl bloomed and deepened on his face; at last he demanded, "When did this happen?" Keller's answer made him close his eyes and shake his head. "No, don't do anything yet—just have Janine draft a newspaper ad and call it in. What's the local paper there again? Yes, the Globe. No, it's all right that you called me—you were right, I'll want to see to this myself. I'll give you a call and update you when I get my flights scheduled. All right, yes, do that. Goodbye." He ended the call before Keller could trap him into a run-on conversation and looked wearily at Leslie.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He sighed. "I know you're not feeling well, and I'm sorry, my Rose, but there's an emergency of sorts in Boston. Keller just informed me that I'm going to have to hire two new computer technicians. One quit because her husband is being transferred to another state; and the other had a massive heart attack, which as I understand it will confine him to bed rest indefinitely, if not permanently. I'll have to fly out to Boston and oversee the hiring of replacements." He smiled wryly. "I'm sure you'll remember Keller's demeanor—hell bent for suede and that sort of thing—"
"Hell bent for leather, my love, not suede," Leslie corrected him with a snicker.
"My apologies," said Christian with that raised brow. She grinned at him, and he chuckled back, relaxing a little. "In any case, it means I'll have to fly out of here as soon as I can make flight reservations and pack some things. Likely I'll be gone at least a week, more like two, depending on how long it takes to find good candidates."
Leslie's smile vanished and she went limp where she lay, sighing heavily. "You're right, I still don't feel well, and I'm pretty sure I've got whatever bug Noelle and Lauren came down with. Probably some sort of stomach flu." She blew out an exasperated breath. "I just hope I can last till the guests go home tomorrow morning. It'll be bad enough as it is, but it's always worse if you're gone, for some reason."
Christian smiled at her and stroked her hair. "You know perfectly well I'd rather take you with me, but obviously that just wouldn't work. All I can do is promise that I'll be back as soon as humanly possible." He lifted the phone again. "To that end, let me start making airline reservations. The sooner I go, the sooner I come home."
An hour later, with Christian scheduled to depart on the ten-o'clock charter, they were both up and awaiting breakfast in the study while he watched her go through more of the bills that Roarke's business tended to generate so many of. "I don't suppose you'll join me for the morning repast," Christian said humorously.
She shot him a look from under her bangs, without lifting her head. "If I do, I'll be strictly a spectator. No doubt Mariki's going to accuse me of starving myself again."
"If she does," remarked a voice from the stairs, "I'll explain things to her." Leslie and Christian looked sharply around and goggled at sight of Roarke.
"Father! You're back early!" Leslie exclaimed, with great relief.
"You have quite the sense of timing, Mr. Roarke," Christian commented. "Leslie's been doing quite well, I think, since you left; but lately there have been problems. Noelle and Lauren have taken ill, and it looks as if Leslie is beginning to come down with whatever they have. And I myself have to leave for Boston because it's necessary for me to replace two of my employees there."
"I see," Roarke said, coming into the room. "Perhaps you two can fill me in more fully over breakfast. Leave the bills for later, Leslie; I'll handle them after you've updated me. I presume the children are still asleep?"
"They'll be awake before much longer, if habit holds true," Christian said, checking his Rolex. "I have to admit, I'm hungry this morning. It's just as well, because I suspect they won't be feeding me, even on the long-distance flights."
They were just about to go out to the veranda for breakfast when the triplets came thundering down the stairs in all their pajama-clad splendor. The moment they spied Roarke, they all shrieked in joyful welcome and threw themselves at him for hugs. Christian and Leslie watched, laughing softly, as Roarke managed to devote sufficient attention to all three children that they were soon a little calmer, though they clustered around him as the family made their way to the breakfast table.
The children chattered at their grandfather as Mariki appeared and began doling out serving dishes; the adults let them carry on for a minute, as it prevented Mariki from asking questions about Leslie's lack of enthusiasm for the meal. When she was gone and Christian had filled his plate, he lifted a hand. "Enough, the three of you. Your grandfather can't make any sense of your words if you all talk at the same time. Let him choose one of you and you can take turns telling your stories."
"Me first!" Tobias insisted immediately.
Susanna and Karina glared at their brother, but Roarke chuckled and indulged him. "All right, Tobias, go ahead." Tobias promptly started talking, and Susanna chimed in here and there till she got her turn. As Leslie listened, she got the sense that Roarke—unusually tolerant of his grandchildren's eager gabbing—was allowing them to have their say for more reasons than merely giving them a chance to let off steam. She considered asking, but she had learned over time that Roarke would talk when he was ready, and not till then.
"Herregud," Christian remarked when Susanna finally wound up her report, "even I didn't know about some of that. I'm sure much of it was exaggerated." He glanced at Leslie as he said this, and she grinned. "That leaves one. It's your turn, Karina."
"What have you been doing lately, sweetheart?" Roarke inquired of her.
Karina looked at Roarke with shining eyes. "I got to do Mommy's job!"
"You did not!" Susanna blared out, her face radiating outrage.
"Did so!" Karina shot back smugly. "You be quiet, it's my turn—Daddy said." So saying, she proceeded to tell Roarke about Tobias', Susanna's and Kevin's transgressions with her plush cat (which she had brought to the breakfast table and showed off to her grandfather with an indignant zeal that made Christian and Leslie grin at each other), and how in the aftermath Leslie had made the other children hunt down the missing toy while Karina was given the privilege of accompanying her mother on some rounds. This got them through most of the remainder of breakfast; Susanna and Tobias, eyeing Karina with black glares, finished eating while Karina talked. Brianna appeared as she finished and Christian checked his Rolex again before helping himself to more of Mariki's breakfast casserole.
The children were excused, and they tumbled out of their chairs, Karina grabbing her bedraggled plush cat as she left. Roarke nodded a greeting to Brianna before turning to his daughter and son-in-law. "So...how much of that was accurate?" he asked teasingly.
Christian and Leslie laughed. "Most of it was right," Leslie said. "What they failed to mention was that I'm not feeling so well myself, and that apparently Karina bragged about what she got to do, because Susanna came down late yesterday afternoon before Christian got off work and tried to talk me into letting her come along to make my last check on the Reardon fantasy for the day. I had to turn her down—after all, it's a time-travel fantasy, and I don't think we're quite ready to turn a four-year-old loose in the past."
Roarke chuckled. "A wise choice," he lauded. "Christian, you seem to be in something of a hurry, and I don't think I've ever seen you eat that much."
Christian smiled ruefully. "I'm quite hungry for some reason." He glanced at his wife. "I expected to worry about Leslie while I was gone, but with you back I'll have less of a burden on my mind." He drew in a breath and shifted gears, his expression sobering. "I presume your trip was fruitless. I can't say I'm surprised; amakarna is apparently one of those unavoidable evils of life."
"We returned a little early primarily because Giancarlo Ognissanti did the same," said Roarke. Leslie noticed he had dodged addressing Christian's assumption, and filed it away to ask him about later. "It was felt it might be best to avoid any confrontation."
Christian stilled and stared at him. "Giancarlo Ognissanti?" he repeated. "Are you telling me you were in Italy, at the LiSciola villa? Well, for fate's sake, what exactly were you doing there, and why did you have to take Rogan with you?"
Roarke, too, went still and studied the prince before replying, "Christian, I believe your flight out is scheduled to leave within the next eighty minutes, and you undoubtedly have a fair amount of packing to do. News of the trip will keep; you have other concerns to think about, and Leslie and I need to see to the fantasies."
Christian peered at him, enormous suspicion on his face, but gave in. Leslie had to smile; Christian, too, had learned when not to push Roarke. "Very well, but I do expect to have a full update at the earliest opportunity. You know perfectly well I'm interested in anything to do with that spice, because of my nieces. But you're right about the time, so I'll let it go this once. Leslie, my Rose, would you mind helping me pack?"
Leslie acquiesced; she had heard that inevitable imperial tone in her husband's voice, but knew at the same time that Roarke could be the immovable object to Christian's unstoppable force when it was necessary. She followed him out to the car and settled into the passenger seat while he piloted the vehicle out of the lane and on toward home.
After a few miles he glanced at her. "I've been thinking. Presumably Mr. Roarke got back sometime last night when we were asleep. He hasn't even mentioned whether they had a good flight, or even if Rogan came back with him." He flicked a glance into the rearview mirror before continuing, "But since he's never left the island for any reason before this, I have no way of knowing if his uncommunicative way is normal with him."
Leslie giggled. "Don't ask me, I don't know either. Christian, my love, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. You've got other things to handle right now. And I admit, I'm actually less interested in Father's trip, and the reason he went, than I am in wishing you didn't have to go. I always miss you when you're gone."
"I miss you too, my Rose, believe me," Christian assured her. His soft look grew into a teasing grin. "But I don't think you or even I need worry about Janine Polidari. I've had nothing but excellent reports about her from Keller, so I'm satisfied that she's truly matured and I won't have any trouble from her." She laughed, as he'd hoped, and he squeezed her hand and turned his full attention back to his driving.
At the plane dock a bit more than an hour later, Christian—now dressed in a suit and tie, which merely made him all the more irresistible to Leslie—glanced at the plane, consulted his Rolex for the dozenth time that morning, and set down the laptop case he carried in order to give each triplet a hug. "Where you going, Daddy?" Tobias wanted to know.
"A place called Boston, very far from here," Christian explained. "I have an office there that's just like the one here in town. I have to fix some problems there, but I promise I'll be coming back, so Mommy will bring you here to meet me then if she can."
"I want to go with you, Daddy," Susanna said.
"Sorry, lillan min," Christian said with a little laugh, tousling her hair. "Another time, perhaps. Maybe while I'm gone, you can help your mother and Ingrid around the house, and if Grandfather says it's all right, you might help him a little with something too. In fact, all three of you, why don't you go over and ask him if he has something for you to do for him?" He watched the triplets light up at this idea and flock to Roarke, all clamoring at once; then he grinned and sauntered to Leslie, drawing her into his embrace.
"Sneaky," Leslie said, half accusing, half laughing.
"You know there was a good reason I did that. I want to say a proper goodbye, and I know you'd have been thoroughly annoyed with me if I didn't," he retorted with a grin. "If you don't mind, let me say that goodbye before I miss the plane." Without giving her a chance to respond, he lowered his head and kissed her, as always making a complete job of it so that she wanted only to hold onto him and never let him loose.
"You really do say a hell of a goodbye," she admitted breathlessly when he released her. "Trouble is, it makes me not want to say goodbye at all."
He grinned at that. "In that case, let's make it a little easier." He popped a quick, perfunctory peck on her cheek and lifted the laptop case, turning away as if to leave.
"Oh no you don't, Christian Enstad," she shot out threateningly, grabbing his arm, and he dropped the case again and let her tug him back, laughing. Chuckling back, she pulled him into a long hug, sobering. "Be safe, my darling, and please call me when you land in Boston, will you? I wish you had a more certain timetable. These open-ended trips are a real pain in the butt because I don't know when you'll be home."
"You think I live for these things, then?" he retorted with a slight chuckle. "I promise to give you word as soon as the pilot gives clearance for passengers to place phone calls. I suspect Keller will be there again, trying to treat me like royalty, and I admit I'm not really looking forward to dealing with him. I mean...he means well, but he doesn't realize how overpowering and wearying he can be. I'm worried he'll insist on putting me up in his own home." He rolled his eyes while she snickered. "Not to worry, I'll get around that." His expression softened again and he gently smoothed her hair back from her face, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "I love you, my Leslie Rose, and I'll call when I get there."
"I love you too, Christian, my darling. I'll be waiting." They shared one last kiss just as the final boarding call came, and Christian released a resigned sigh before squeezing her, letting her go, picking up the laptop case and hurrying for the dock in his customary hasty leavetaking. She watched him, already feeling lonelier.
"Did you have sufficient time to render proper farewells, then?" inquired Roarke in a wry tone from beside her, and she looked around to see him shift his glance to the plane, where the attendants were just closing the hatch after Christian. The triplets were chasing each other around the clearing, shrieking and laughing.
"Of course we did, Christian saw to that," she said with a smirk, and he chuckled, shaking his head. Leslie let her attention drift back to the plane. "He promised to call, but I think he's afraid Keller's going to try to play host when he gets to Boston."
"I have no doubt Christian will be deft at handling Ben Keller," Roarke assured her, ushering her along toward the waiting car with a hand between her shoulder blades. "We'd better return to the main house; there's plenty to be done."