A/N: I realize it's been quite a while since I put up the last story—still busy working on the first draft of books for (I hope) future attempts at publication. But I'm in a lull between manuscripts at the moment and still trying to get the plot of book 4 off scaffolding; so I thought I'd follow a theme after I got two wonderful story ideas from Kathy G, which I plan to incorporate into this tale. I'll also try to include episodes from the actual series that involved kids in a fairly major way; so this will probably turn out to be a long story. Hope you're all prepared! :)
§ § § - June 2, 2012
The Enstads were just sitting down to breakfast in the kitchen when Roarke appeared without warning in the doorway from the entry foyer. The triplets let out shouts of joy and scrambled out of their chairs with much clatter and clamor to cluster around him and try to capture his undivided attention. Three-year-old Anastasia stared on with her mouth open; Christian sat back in his chair and watched with a small, wry smile; and Leslie grinned, playfully rubbing one ear as if it hurt.
"Good morning, you three, and happy birthday to all of you!" Roarke said cheerfully, hugging each of his grandchildren in turn and then meeting Anastasia's slightly startled gaze with a wink. "And hello, little one, how are you?"
Anastasia's gold-flecked blue eyes blinked slowly once, and Leslie prodded, "Say hello to Grandfather, honey. He's here to visit."
"For our birthday!" crowed Susanna. "We're finally eight!"
"Took forever to stop being dumb old seven anymore," Tobias remarked.
Karina had something else in mind. "Grandfather, are you staying for our party?"
"I'll be here all day if you wish," Roarke said. "Perhaps somewhere I may have hidden some presents for the three of you."
Susanna and Tobias bounced on their feet like a couple of springs that had been glued to the floor; Karina turned a hopeful, shining face up to him. "I know what present I want. More stories about when you were in charge and Mother was your helper."
"Now how did I know that would come up?" Christian queried dryly, but his smile warmed and widened. "Perhaps if you'd care to share our breakfast, Mr. Roarke, we can tell at least the first one over the meal so these imps will finish eating, and then we can decorate for the party out back while you and Leslie tell a few more."
"Decorate?" Roarke repeated.
"With balloons and party hats and those little horns you blow like on New Year's Eve, and those long colored papers that you hang on the ceiling," Susanna said, nodding vigorously. "It's gonna be outside, but we can have it under the deck so there's someplace to hang all the paper things."
"The streamers," Leslie clarified. "I don't know if we'll go that far, now."
"But we got some the other day at that new party store in town," Susanna protested. "We should use them, y'know, otherwise it's wasting money."
"So it would be," Christian agreed. "Well thought out. Then I suppose we'll just have to decorate with them. Meantime, Mr. Roarke, while I realize you won't need to eat anything, at the very least you can sit with us and help Leslie entertain the children."
"Not to mention you," added Leslie with a smirk. He just grinned.
Roarke laughed. "Very well, we certainly have the time. Before your parents scold you three again, you'd better sit down and have breakfast. You're right that I won't need to eat, Christian, but I would appreciate some of that coffee if you have any to spare; it's been quite some time since I was able to enjoy a cup."
"Of course," Christian agreed, rising to prepare a mugful. "So tell me, what sort of stories will you regale us with today?"
Roarke and Leslie looked at each other; she shrugged, and he smiled, as if that were her signal to leave the choices up to him. "Well, considering that it's the triplets' birthday, perhaps we can tell stories regarding children's fantasies," he suggested.
"You used to grant fantasies to kids?" Tobias asked, eyes popping. "Oh, wow, cool!"
"I wish we could have some for our birthday," Susanna put in, sounding jealous.
"Ach, fate save us, I think you and your brother and sister will receive more than enough gifts today without demanding your own fantasy atop that," Christian commented. "My suggestion is that you be happy your grandfather is able to spend the whole day here for your birthday, and let him tell you those stories you want, and stop asking for more and more."
"Yeah, Greedy-Guts," Tobias said to Susanna, who stuck out her tongue at him.
Leslie looked up in surprise. "Where'd you learn that phrase?"
Tobias shrugged and said, "Some kid in my class. He's at the Air Force base on Coral Island, and he calls his older brother that all the time. Anyway, Mom, that's what Susanna's being, a greedy-guts. Just 'cause it's our birthday doesn't mean we get everything in the world."
"What kind of kids' fantasies did you have?" Karina put in, apparently impatient to get story time under way. "Were they fun, or dangerous, or what?"
"Both, and more," Roarke assured her. "Leslie, what stands out in your mind?"
She chuckled and said, "I'm sure we'll be able to mine my first summer on the island without any trouble at all. That," she added for her husband's benefit, "was the summer Father and Tattoo tried granting children's fantasies alongside adults'. It lasted only a couple months or so because it doubled our workload every weekend, but we had a really good time." She gestured at the children. "Come on, finish your breakfast before everything gets cold. You too, Stasia."
The kids began to eat, though Anastasia did it mostly in imitation of her older siblings. Christian put a mug of coffee in front of Roarke and resumed his chair. "Sounds like you had a busy few weeks. I'm sure there must have been plenty of fairytale reenactments for little girls, and young boys asking to be daredevils or athletes or some such thing."
"We had a few of those, but not nearly as many as you think," Roarke said with a smile. "Some of the fantasies were surprises."
"That's for sure," Leslie agreed. "Like the weekend some kids wanted to run the amusement park, and a family group was trying to form a famous rock band. Do you want to start, Father, or should I?"
"Who cares who starts?" Karina blurted, her impatience finally bursting its restraints. "Just tell us about it, please!"
The adults laughed, and Roarke gestured to Leslie. "By all means, my child."
§ § § - May 12, 1979
Leslie, just turned fourteen as of a week before, had been waiting at the top of the porch steps while Roarke went to fetch a rover; as soon as it emerged around the bend in the lane, she hurried out to meet it and slid into the front seat. "Where's Tattoo?"
"I thought he would be with you," Roarke said, removing his gold pocket watch from his vest and flicking open the cover to check the time. "Didn't he say that—" He was interrupted by the high-pitched blaring of a horn, and both of them looked around. Sure enough, a child-size car—a perfect small-scale replica of the resort's rovers—careened out of the trees, scattering shrieking natives before its driver skidded to a dusty stop just shy of the fountain. "Hurry, Tattoo, hurry," Roarke urged.
"Of course, boss," Tattoo agreed, climbing out of the car and pausing beside the driver's side of the car, puffing on a pipe.
"Eh, Tattoo..." Roarke began.
"What?" the Frenchman inquired cheerfully.
Leslie broke in before Roarke could ask. "How come you're dressed like Sherlock Holmes?"
About to answer, Tattoo was interrupted by Roarke, who spoke with one hand upraised as if he had just figured it all out. "You just finished reading the Sherlock Holmes book I gave you, and you've decided to become a master of disguise. Right?"
Tattoo's face had morphed into a mask of astonishment. "How did you know?"
"Duh," muttered Leslie, rolling her eyes.
"Elementary, my dear Tattoo, elementary," put in Roarke, in a nicely executed British accent. "Come, it's time to meet the balloon." Rolling his own eyes, Tattoo rounded the car and slid into the back seat, and they were off to the other side of the island, where a landing pad for a hot-air balloon had been set up on a hilly clearing within sight of the amusement park there. As Roarke piloted the car down the Ring Road, they could see the balloon drifting along, now and then flashing in bright red, white and blue stripes through stands of trees. It took them a little more than twenty minutes to reach their destination; with the balloon drifting on the air currents as it did, it was still some distance out, and they had time to take their usual places and watch the balloon floating toward them.
It took a few minutes, so Leslie was able to watch vacationers' kids running around the brick-paved traffic circle where Roarke had parked the rover, lining up awaiting the day's opening of the amusement park just across from the tree beneath which they all stood, and occasionally trotting past them aboard llamas or vicuñas. A native strolled by them leading a zebra, while a stream of native children scuttled past, lining up not far from the landing pad and raising instruments, awaiting their cue to begin playing their welcoming song. They waved at Leslie, who waved back.
"The balloon's loaded this morning," Leslie remarked, as the basket settled down on the pad and a uniformed attendant, looking like a cruise-ship employee, stepped out, securing the basket door and gesturing toward those nearest the exit.
"Indeed so," Roarke agreed, nodding toward the first group who emerged from the basket. "You are looking at the Collins family: Scooter, Willie, Rob, and their sister Jodie." As the girl climbed out behind her brothers, they heard her chirp, "Thank you, Captain Balloon!"
Leslie grinned. Scooter and Jodie were both younger than she; Rob, the oldest, and Willie looked to be in their mid- to late teens, somewhat older than she was. "Captain Balloon," she repeated with a little giggle. "I guess he does look like a captain in that uniform."
"What's their fantasy, boss? To get away from their parents?" Tattoo asked with a sly grin.
"Oh, far from it, Tattoo; they love their parents very, very much," Roarke said.
"Then what's their fantasy?" Leslie persisted.
"One shared by children all over the world, Leslie. To become instant rock stars."
"They all want to," agreed Tattoo.
Leslie smirked. "Well, not quite all children," she said, and Roarke chuckled.
"Well, okay, maybe not you, but every other kid in the world," Tattoo riposted, nothing daunted. "Do they have any talents?"
"A good question, Tattoo—a very good question indeed!" commented Roarke.
"Which means probably not," Leslie translated, earning a smirk from Tattoo and a quelling look from her guardian in which she nonetheless read traces of doubt. She smirked too, just to herself, and let Roarke distract her attention to the second party disembarking from the balloon.
"Next is the Aces High Magic Club, from San Fernando, California, along with Derrus Scott, and Derrus' aunt, Andrea." Derrus and Andrea were African-American; their companions were Caucasian, and all three kids seemed to be younger than Leslie.
"Magic!" Tattoo echoed. "They're all magicians?"
"To varying degrees, yes," Roarke said. "Derrus himself is quite accomplished, and he enjoys teaching his friends how to entertain others."
"Only three in the club?" Tattoo asked dubiously, his face screwing up as he said it. "That's not a very big club. What's their fantasy, boss?"
"To pull off what Derrus calls their greatest trick ever. This weekend those children are going to run the Fantasy Island Amusement Park, and Derrus hopes to have lots of fun—but as I told you, my friend, Derrus is an accomplished magician; and one can never be certain what a magician has up his sleeve once he has your attention centered where he wants it."
Tattoo nodded, and Leslie peered at her guardian a little warily before turning the same look on Derrus Scott. Of course, all seven children from both groups were too busy enjoying their ice-cream sundaes to take much note of their hosts, and a moment later Leslie was distracted when Roarke's own sundae arrived. "My dear friends," he called, catching everyone's attention, "I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island!" The kids toasted him with their sundaes, and Aunt Andrea beamed at Roarke; he took a sip from the straw in his sundae, then removed it and handed the entire glass to a surprised and delighted Leslie, who pulled out the spoon and took a big bite.
"We will meet you at the main house once you have been settled into your bungalows," Roarke informed the new arrivals, "and then we will discuss your individual fantasies. Until then, please follow our guide here." He gestured to a young native man who smiled and nodded to the newcomers, gesturing for them to follow him. Roarke in turn made for the rover, with Tattoo and Leslie trailing, Leslie trying to keep the sundae glass from dripping melting ice cream on her dress.
"You better finish that before we get back home," Tattoo warned her, taking the front seat this time as Roarke slid behind the wheel and Leslie eased into the middle seat beside Tattoo's discarded Sherlock Holmes cape and hat. "You've got maybe twenty minutes."
"I guess it's a good thing I ate only oatmeal for breakfast, then," Leslie remarked, "but I think Mom would've said something about my getting to eat ice cream this early in the day. Especially so much of it." She caught Roarke's eye in the rearview mirror and noticed the twinkle in it; she grinned back, and heard his chuckle as he started the car and got them back on the road.
Leslie finished in enough time to hand the empty glass to Mana'olana when they stepped onto the porch; the cook was just finishing clearing the breakfast table. "And just where did you get that, young lady?" she wanted to know. There was no mistaking what the former contents of the glass had been. "I suppose that's why you wouldn't eat any more than half a bowl of oatmeal. And on top of that, you completely finished that ice cream."
"I had to," Leslie protested. "Mr. Roarke didn't want it."
Mana'olana paused, then shifted her regard to Roarke. "You, sir?"
"Well, I couldn't very well let it all go to waste, now, could I?" countered Roarke.
Looking taken aback, Mana'olana pondered that for a moment, and Roarke visibly stifled a smile. "We'd better get inside, you two," he said, herding Leslie and Tattoo along ahead of him.
"She has a point," Tattoo observed as they entered the study. "Are you gonna give Leslie your leftover ice cream sundae every weekend, boss?"
"You sound jealous," Leslie teased him. "Maybe next weekend he'll let you have it."
"That's enough," Roarke said, but there was a thread of amusement in his voice. "If you need to wash your hands, Leslie, you can do that now."
She did so, and then they returned to the amusement park; it took them long enough to get there that by then all their guests had had time enough to settle in from their trip. But Roarke clearly knew that the amusement park would be a draw too strong for the kids to resist; and sure enough, as he parked and the trio strolled across the hilly clearing overlooking the ocean, they spied four young people exclaiming over the sights. "I told you guys to lay off the junk food," they heard Rob Collins warn his younger siblings as they came within earshot.
"Ah, the Collins family," Roarke greeted them.
"Mr. Roarke—you're just the man we wanted to see," Rob said cheerfully.
"Well, I had expected to see you at the pool," Roarke said.
Rob shrugged. "Oh, we had a couple of things to do first."
"Yeah, like taking a dumb nap," grumbled Scooter.
Tattoo looked perplexed; Leslie grinned, and Roarke filled in the breach. "Uh, well...what may I do for you?"
"Could you tell us when our fantasy's going to begin?" asked Jodie, augmented by a nod from Willie. At that Tattoo smiled.
"Oh, that's easy," he said. "It already has started."
"Uh, what Tattoo means," Roarke put in, "is that you are already rock stars, in certain parts of the world." Leslie peered suspiciously at him. She had been here only about three months, but that had been long enough for her to start picking up on odd nuances and turns of phrase that most of their guests, too excited to bother with details, tended to miss.
"Oh, really?" inquired Rob, as if he'd noticed Leslie's reaction. "Well, what part of the world are we stars in?"
"England," Roarke replied, surprising Leslie, who had expected him to say the Collinses were stars here on the island and maybe in Hawaii as well. "You see, I took the demonstration tape you sent me and had it released as an album. Well, your album shot straight to the top of the British charts."
Scooter grinned smugly and boasted, "See, I told you guys we were good."
"Well, that's terrific," Rob protested, "but we—"
Roarke stopped him with an upraised hand. "I know," he assured the young man. "I know: you want some ironclad proof of your newly found fame, right?"
"Well, it would be nice," Rob admitted.
"Before Mr. Roarke delivers the proof, there is something else you should know," Tattoo told him, his voice a bit grave. Trouble, thought Leslie. There's always a catch to this stuff.
"Oh, what's that?" Rob asked.
Roarke delivered the answer Leslie had expected from him earlier: "I also released your album here, on Fantasy Island. While we don't have any charts, or Top 40, I can readily assure you that the Collins family have already achieved rock stardom right here." He ushered Tattoo and Leslie aside, allowing the crowds of kids playing with the animals and taking advantage of the ice-cream bar and fountain to see the quartet. That was all it took; every kid in the area began screaming, stampeding for the four siblings in one mad, headlong rush. All four of them looked horrified for a second or two, then broke into two separate factions, fleeing as if for their lives.
"Holy cow," Leslie uttered, watching from beside her amused guardian and Tattoo, whose expression kept switching from wincing sympathy to a tickled grin. "That's some proof." She could see only three running figures; quick deduction told her that they'd caught young Scooter, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the mob dispersed as if to chase after one or two of the other siblings, leaving a dazed Scooter stumbling to remain on his feet, his jacket and bow tie missing altogether and his pale-yellow dress shirt in shreds.
"If this is stardom, forget it," he muttered, just loudly enough for them to hear. One little girl, maybe Scooter's age or slightly older, had remained behind and was eyeing him. "What do you want?"
The girl looked starstruck. "For you to marry me."
"That's crazy," Scooter informed her.
"Why?" the girl persisted.
"Well, for starters, I'm only nine," he retorted, and Leslie snickered behind one hand while Roarke and Tattoo grinned at each other. Scooter rushed off, presumably to replace his shirt, while the girl watched him go, then shrugged resignedly and trudged along the grass in their general direction.
"Did you get your autograph, Jessica?" Roarke asked as she shuffled by.
"Yeah, but I really wanted an engagement ring," Jessica said wistfully.
Leslie grinned and offered, "Well, I dunno, I hear there's a magician on the island this weekend. Maybe he can conjure up one for you."
Jessica lit up like a beacon. "You think so? Where is he? I gotta ask him!" Without waiting for a reply, she took off toward the amusement park.
"Leslie, really," Roarke admonished.
Leslie flipped her hands into the air. "Well, hey...I just didn't want to see such a long face. Anyway, aren't we supposed to talk to Derrus Scott and his magic club?"
"We are at that," Roarke agreed, "so we may as well go and find him."
"And hope Jessica doesn't," put in Tattoo, at which Leslie snickered cheerfully, trailing the two along the clearing and across the brick-paved traffic circle to the waiting rover.
Back on their own side of the island, in front of the main house, they came upon Derrus, already performing a show for a crowd of impressed kids; they lingered long enough to watch him execute three tricks before producing a bouquet that exploded all over the three of them in showers of red, white and blue confetti. "Roses!" Derrus exclaimed expansively. "Roses, to thank you for our fantasy of running an amusement park."
Roarke and Tattoo both smiled gamely; Leslie, shaking confetti out of her hair, would have commented that she'd have preferred the actual flowers if Derrus' aunt Andrea hadn't broken through the fringes of her nephew's audience and hurried to his side. "Excuse me...Derrus, how could you?" she cried, stopping in front of them and brushing red and blue bits of paper from Roarke's shoulders. "Oh, I want to apologize for my nephew tossing confetti all over you." She brushed off Tattoo's shoulder as well, then shook some stray bits from Leslie's hair before turning on the startled boy. "I'm so embarrassed!"
"Well, it wasn't all confetti," Derrus protested weakly. "There were roses. Not real roses," he added apologetically to Leslie, as if he'd read her mind. "I couldn't afford real ones." He bent down and scooped up a folded and shaped piece of red paper. "I cut them out of magazines. See? They're really roses!"
He was so earnest and worried that Leslie forgave him. "That's okay, Derrus," she assured him with a smile that seemed to relax him. "You did a great job."
"There is really nothing to apologize for," Roarke added with a warm smile. "Now, enjoy yourself, Derrus." Derrus shot his aunt a split-second glance, tossed the spent bouquet onto the nearby table and took advantage of Roarke's invitation, strolling over to a group of kids sitting around the end of a long thin bar where more ice-cream sundaes were being concocted and served. "Hey, guys, I got a great trick for you. Can I have a volunteer?..."
Andrea turned to her hosts then and said sternly, "I'm afraid you gentlemen are being much too lenient with him." She left out Leslie, as if figuring a teenage girl wouldn't know any better anyway—or at least, that was Leslie's slightly disgruntled thought.
"It was just confetti," she protested in surprise, shaking her head to dislodge the last of it.
"And he seems to be such a nice boy," Tattoo added with an encouraging smile.
Andrea seemed to relent and smiled back. "Being nice isn't the problem with Derrus." She addressed Roarke. "You—you saw the way he was acting today. He's like that all the time! He lives in a world all his own, a world of magic." Sure enough, by now Derrus was playing to a crowd of around twenty kids—the consummate showman already, at no more than about ten years old. "I keep hoping he'll outgrow it, but I guess it's hard for—well, his mother, my sister...she died five years ago."
Leslie winced, apparently audibly, for Andrea turned to her curiously. "I'm sorry about that," Leslie offered softly. "I'm here for the same reason."
"I see," murmured Andrea. "I'm sorry too."
"My ward, Leslie," Roarke introduced the girl. "She's fourteen." Andrea smiled and shook Leslie's hand.
"But...does he have a father?" Tattoo ventured, refocusing their attention.
Andrea scoffed, "Oh, yeah, he has a father all right. But he hardly ever sees Derrus. Too embarrassed, I guess—he's a third-rate carnival stuntman, who spends what little money he makes on his precious motorcycle and flashy leather outfits." Her derisive scorn seemed to permeate the air; she saw the concerned look on Roarke's face and muttered, "Then he's laid up in the hospital half the time." She looked away in disgust, folding her arms over her chest.
Roarke let a beat or two elapse, then prodded, "But he does communicate with the boy, doesn't he?"
Andrea flared up again. "Certainly! Postcards, letters...never doubting he's gonna make the big time! Derrus' father is a thirty-five-year-old boy who never grew up—and he never will." She sighed, looking away again. "And that poor child has to pay the price."
As she shook her head to herself, Derrus turned around, caught Roarke's eye, and winked—and to Leslie's startlement, Roarke winked right back, smiling secretively. Aha! she thought. Another magician with something up his sleeve! She eyed her guardian with a new resolve to start asking some serious questions, the first chance she got.