I do NOT own "Fantasy Island".
OPENING SCENE "RUN, RUN!" Roarke's yell rang through the air until the ringing of the
bell, and his assistant TJ hollering "De Plane!", simultaneously matched
the movement of the magistrate bolting upright in bed, drenched in sweat.
"Mr. Roarke, the plane..." TJ appeared in the doorway when the boss
failed to walk out the front door. TJ was Tattoo's nephew and was, almost,
his spitting double. The only difference was that his hair was brownish-
blonde.
"I'll be there." Mr. Roarke did his best not to snap. TJ never finished his
sentence, but instead shut the bedroom door and headed back outside.
Get it together was the order he gave himself as he got dressed for the day.
Going to the bathroom, he intended to wash up and get out the door - only,
when he looked in the mirror he saw her. Blinking his eyes she was gone.
You promised her, let go. But all the man could do was grab the side of his
head and let out a horrible scream of pain.
The scream was not heard near the docks as TJ paced back and forth
wondering where his boss was. Not once in six months had he been late.
The early-morning bell rang and Roarke would be by his side. If anyone
had pushed time it had been TJ, in spite of his Uncle Tattoo's warnings.
"Darn nightmares, wish I knew what they were about," TJ muttered and
breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Mr. Roarke stepping out of his car and
straightening his tie. "So, who is our guest?"
Before the man could answer his employee, a high-pitched squeal of
delight filled the air. A dark-headed twelve-year-old child ran - more like
bolted- to Roarke and threw her arms around his waist. "Daddy, Daddy! I
just knew you'd send for me."
Mr. Roarke hid the shock waves which hit his system and welcomed his
and Cassie's daughter to the island. But his eyes shot a clear question
towards the woman who stepped off the plane.
"Darling, why don't you go play with the other guests in that field over
there?" Maria pointed her niece in the other direction. "I see children
there." The young gal needed no other words of encouragement. Only when she
was out of earshot did Mr. Roarke bite out any words to his sister-in-law.
"Answer my question." His voice was hard.
"You didn't ask one."
"I shouldn't have to speak it, I know you saw it as I looked over Betty
Mae's shoulder."
"She's your child. I'm tired of taking care of her," Maria hissed. "You
give other people their fantasies and help cure their ills. Well, dear
brother-in-law of mine, fix your own!" Her voice was not loud, but it was
sharp. When Mr. Roarke said nothing she tacked on: "I'm no more happy
with what happened; what little I know, other than you are alive, and my
sister…" Her voice trailed off and then picked back up again. "But the
fact remains that Betty Mae is your responsibility, not mine. Good-bye."
With that she turned and climbed back onto the plane, leaving Mr. Roarke
holding the bags she'd brought and a heart questioning whether he could
handle raising a daughter any better now than when he'd sent her to live
with Cassie's kin.