A/N: Thanks again to Harry2, Terry L. Gardner and Kyryn…and thanks as well to all other readers and any reviewers who'd like to comment. Couldn't resist a fluffy little romance story this time out; but one character's fate will be left unresolved till later…
§ § § -- December 21, 1996
On this final weekend before Christmas, preparations for the holiday were in full swing, while conversely, tourist traffic on the island was light. It was New Year's Eve and Day that were the major winter holidays to spend on Fantasy Island. So, this weekend, there was just one fantasy, which Leslie was surprised to find had put Roarke in a very somber mood. "Why the long face?" she asked when they met on the porch. "It can't be on account of Christmas…at least, I hope not." She grinned.
Roarke raised an eyebrow at her. "As you are well aware, I'm looking forward to the holiday as much as anyone else." He watched the car approach around the bend in the lane. "No, it's merely our lone fantasy this weekend. When we reach the dock, I'll explain."
And explain he did, when a delicately beautiful Asian woman stepped out of the plane, leading a little girl by one hand. "Miss Katsumi Nishimura, who comes to us from Kyoto, Japan. The child is her six-year-old daughter, Haruko."
Leslie watched them come down the docking ramp, the mother looking uncertain, the child sticking close to her. "They both look utterly lost," she said, her heart going out to them instantly.
Roarke smiled at her. "You're correct, Leslie, they are…in a sense," he said. "Miss Nishimura has never left Japan until now: and the reason for her having done so is a very compelling one. Until recently she was a geisha—a very popular and well-known one at that—and about eight years ago, she had her first encounter with the man who ultimately captured her heart. They saw each other every few weeks, and after a time the young man insisted on being entertained exclusively by her. Then he stopped coming to the house where she was employed—just at the time she discovered she was pregnant with Haruko."
"That had to be seven years ago. Why wait so long to leave?" Leslie wondered.
"The life of a geisha is highly secluded," Roarke said, "and she had never really known any other. So she was content to raise her daughter in the house where she had lived since her early childhood."
"Then why did she leave at all? It couldn't have been because of that man she fell in love with, or she'd have left long before this," Leslie reasoned.
Roarke nodded. "Correct. No, she had resigned herself to his loss, because geisha are not allowed the luxury of love. What compelled her to escape was the revelation that the women who ran the geisha house intended to train young Haruko in the life, to follow in her mother's footsteps. Miss Nishimura wanted more for her daughter, so she went to visit the last known place where the man she loved was employed. She learned that he was no longer with that establishment and was told he had left the country altogether. Miss Nishimura was left with little choice but to follow suit; so she hid what few treasured possessions she had within her daughter's schoolbag, sold the many intricate kimonos that were part of her geisha wardrobe, and slipped out of the house with the child under the guise of an afternoon outing. They simply never returned—instead, they took a plane out of the country."
"That took some serious courage," Leslie commented. "So I assume that the man she loves is here on the island."
"Indeed he is," Roarke said. "For that matter, he is closer than you suspect. The love of her life, and the father of her daughter, is Kazuo Miyamoto."
Leslie cranked around and gasped. "Chef Miyamoto? Our Chef Miyamoto?"
"The very same," Roarke said. "And he is completely unaware of all this. It's my great fear that both he and Miss Nishimura will be in for a very rude shock." With perfect timing, a native girl stepped forward bearing a tray with Roarke's drink, which he raised to Katsumi Nishimura and her wide-eyed daughter. "My dear guests, I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Kangei suru. Welcome to Fantasy Island!"
‡ ‡ ‡
Half an hour later at the main house, while they were awaiting their guests, Roarke reread the letter he had initially received from Katsumi Nishimura and frowned in concern. "I have a feeling we may need a translator," he said thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, I know of only one person who might consent to the task."
Leslie's eyes went wide and she turned to him in alarm. "Father, I don't think you should do that," she said worriedly.
Roarke's curious gaze met hers. "Indeed! And why not?"
She hesitated for a moment. "Well, who do you have in mind?"
"Reiko Tokita, of course," Roarke said. His eyebrow popped up when Leslie winced and turned away, shaking her head. "What's wrong with that?"
"I was afraid you'd mention Reiko's name. Father, I thought you knew. She and Chef Miyamoto have been seeing each other exclusively for almost a year!"
Roarke studied her in silence until, quizzical at his lack of response, she turned back to him. "How 'exclusive' is this relationship to which you refer?"
"Well, I heard it all from Michiko, and she said Reiko thinks he might propose to her. Apparently there hasn't been an actual offer as yet, but Michiko made it sound as if it were only a matter of time. I really don't think you want to open this can of worms."
Roarke's voice chilled a bit. "Well, I'm sorry, Leslie, but Miss Nishimura's English is, as she herself admits, quite basic—certainly scant enough that she will probably feel more comfortable speaking through someone who can relay her statements clearly to us, and ours to her as well. Since the Tokitas raised their children to be fluent in both Japanese and English, and since none of the four oldest are available, the task necessarily falls to Reiko."
Leslie sighed. "I just know someone's going to be very badly hurt."
"Do you have another choice?" was Roarke's only rejoinder to this. When she sighed in defeat, he lifted the telephone receiver and dialed the Tokita home, while Leslie watched with dismay. She bit her lip when Roarke's end of the conversation indicated that Reiko had agreed to help, and was relieved to have something else to focus on when there was a knock at the door. She jumped up and let in Katsumi Nishimura, who shyly returned Leslie's smile of welcome and bowed.
Surprised but rolling easily with the punches, Leslie bowed back. "Come in, please," she said, stepping aside and indicating the foyer. Katsumi made her way in, a little hesitant, her eyes wide with amazement as she took in her surroundings. Leslie watched, following her into the study, eager to make friends.
Roarke hung up and arose, smiling. "Miss Nishimura, welcome! Please sit." He gestured at the chairs, and Katsumi bowed deeply to him before she slowly sat down, still gazing around her. Leslie took the other chair, enjoying Katsumi's awed absorption of the room. She and Roarke both waited till Katsumi's skittish gaze came to rest on Leslie.
"Where is Haruko?" Leslie asked curiously.
"In tiny house," Katsumi told her in a soft, hesitant voice. It suited her delicately lovely face; Katsumi possessed a timeless Asian beauty that could render most men breathless and most women intensely envious. She was dressed in an understated ivory-colored skirt, blouse and blazer, which seemed oddly out of place on her. Leslie thought she should have been clad in an elegant kimono. "Someone come be with her so I can try speak you." She winced, as if she knew her English wasn't quite up to her needs.
"Someone who speaks Japanese will be here very soon," Roarke assured her, and Katsumi smiled gratefully.
"Arigato, Roarke-san," she said, and his dark eyes warmed. Katsumi smiled again, fleetingly, her gaze skipping away from his and settling on Leslie again. Leslie's smile was so filled with hope that Katsumi suddenly grinned. "Name of you?" she asked unexpectedly in her broken English.
"Leslie Hamilton," the name's owner said.
Katsumi's black eyes popped open and she giggled behind her hand. "Your name not easy! Maybe I practice say it every night," she said, and Leslie laughed delightedly.
"I hope we can be friends," she said. "Can you tell us a little about the man you're looking for?"
"Yes, I want be friends," Katsumi agreed. "We shake, yes?" She extended her hand and Leslie grasped it, shaking; both women blushed when they saw Roarke's amused grin. "Yes, friends," Katsumi said with shy determination. "Man I want find…he never say name. I know him as Itamae-san. Mean 'chef' in Japanese." Leslie and Roarke looked at each other then, and Katsumi noted the exchange. "You know Itamae-san?"
Before either Roarke or Leslie could formulate a response, the door opened and Reiko Tokita stepped inside, leaning over the half-wall next to the steps with a quizzical look on her face. "Hi, Mr. Roarke, Leslie. Do you still need my help?"
"Yes, Reiko, please come in," said Roarke, rising again. He indicated Katsumi as Leslie got up and moved behind the desk so Reiko could sit down. "Miss Nishimura, this is Reiko Tokita—she can translate for you. Reiko, our guest, Miss Katsumi Nishimura."
The two smiled at each other and Reiko took the vacated chair. "Well," she said, glancing a little uncomfortably at Roarke, "I guess I'll have to hear some stuff I'd never be privy to otherwise, if I'm going to translate properly."
"It's quite all right, Reiko," Roarke said, "but I would remind you of my privacy policy in regard to our guests."
"I understand, Mr. Roarke," Reiko said. "Anytime you're ready."
Roarke nodded and addressed Katsumi. "Miss Nishimura, Itamae-san, as you call him, is indeed here on the island. He doesn't yet know you are here…" Katsumi frowned a little, and Roarke paused long enough to let Reiko translate his words. At the last sentence, Katsumi bit her lip, and Roarke continued: "…but he will." Reiko repeated this in Japanese, and Katsumi nodded slowly.
"When will you tell him?" Reiko translated Katsumi's question.
"As soon as is convenient," said Roarke. "Perhaps the best solution is to see that you meet in private, at your bungalow. You must understand that your meeting with him may not go as you hope. He may find it a shock to see you again, or perhaps he won't remember you at all. You should be prepared for that eventuality."
Katsumi listened intently to Reiko's translation and nodded again, eyes downcast. After a moment she took a deep breath and spoke softly in Japanese, and Reiko canted over the arm of her chair to hear a little better. She cleared her throat, turned to Roarke and reported, "She says that she's aware of that, Mr. Roarke, but Itamae-san is her only hope for a life other than the one she's always known. She has to take the chance."
"Of course," Roarke agreed. "Very well. Miss Nishimura, Leslie will escort you back to your bungalow, and you may expect a visitor in one hour." He spared Reiko only the barest glance as he added the last. Reiko translated, and Katsumi smiled at her words.
"Domo arigato, Roarke-san," she said, rising and bowing deeply once again. Roarke dipped his head in response and smiled, then looked at Leslie, who slipped out from behind the desk and cleared her throat, just a trace self-consciously.
"Come with me, Nishimura-san," she said, making Katsumi look up in surprise and then smile very widely. Reiko stared at Leslie too.
"How did you know the proper form of address?" Reiko exclaimed.
Leslie grinned. "Michiko was very good about answering questions when I had to write a report about Japan for my tenth-grade cultural-studies class," she said cheerfully, making Reiko laugh. "Some of it actually stuck with me. Thanks for the translation services, Reiko." She turned to Katsumi. "Do you want Reiko to come with us?"
Katsumi looked confused, and Reiko tipped her head. "Do you think you'll need me for any more translation?"
Leslie shrugged. "I'm not sure how eager she would be to speak English."
Reiko giggled and spoke to Katsumi, who released a laugh as delicate as the rest of her and turned to Leslie with sparkling black eyes. "You help me speak," she said, her L's coming out slurred like R's. "I want learn English, and you help me."
"I'll be happy to help you," Leslie assured her. "Let's go, then." She and Katsumi made their way out, and Reiko got to her feet.
"I hope she and Itamae-san have a happy ending, Mr. Roarke," she said and grinned.
Roarke smiled back. "You're very kind, Reiko, and my thanks for your generous assistance." Reiko nodded and left, and Roarke sat back in his chair, faintly unsettled by the irony of the situation. Little wonder that Leslie had been so disquieted, he reflected, but in the end, it was better to get things in the open so that there could be a resolution. And to that end, he sat up and called the hotel, asking that they send Chef Miyamoto to the main house without delay.