A/N: Being in between brand-new FI stories at the moment and trying to get my FictionPress project advanced, I thought I'd fill in the gap by adding to Leslie's first few years on the island. It was my first attempt at an original fantasy with Leslie along for the ride. This story also introduces someone whose name may sound somewhat familiar to you. Enjoy and please review! Special thanks to jtbwriter for all the loyal and enthusiastic support, for all the names I write under!
§ § § -- July 12, 1979
School had let out for the summer on May 30, and Leslie had passed to the ninth grade with flying colors, to the pride of both Roarke and Tattoo. Now, with free days until the first Tuesday after Labor Day, Leslie was able to lend a bigger hand to Roarke and Tattoo in the business of bringing dreams to life, though she still played a very limited role. Mostly she was a glorified go-fer, but even that was enough to give her a sense of contributing. Her friends grew a little envious, but she always told them about each weekend's pair of fantasies and how they had turned out, giving the other girls the feeling that they had an in on the activity for which their home island was world-famous. Camille, still pricklier than the other girls, grumbled now and then about living vicariously through Leslie, but the others usually admonished her into silence.
The weekend of May 31 and June 1 had been the last one in which Roarke had granted kids' fantasies as well as those of adults. Cindy had been a tremendous help, but the whole venture had made more work than they could handle; and as often as not—particularly as in the case of Cornelius Kelly and Alphonse—adults arrived without children, even though such fantasies tended to center on kids. Leslie had cried on Roarke's shoulder the morning following the final children's weekend, after the departure of a family who had finally found their child who had been kidnapped two years before. "It was such a great happy ending," she had blubbered when Roarke had asked her why she was bawling so hard. "I wish we could keep granting children's fantasies and do that for every family who has a missing child." Roarke had smiled with regretful agreement and hugged her.
"It's simply not possible to grant every such fantasy in the world, child," he'd said. "I wish the same thing, but it's more difficult than you realize to bring it to fruition. But I'm sure that one day, it will be easier for families and their abducted offspring to be reunited, and they may not even need our help." He wouldn't explain that no matter how much Leslie begged, and she had finally decided it must be Roarke's way of predicting the future.
So the children's-fantasy enterprise, which had really been an experiment, had come to an end, and Roarke and Tattoo had returned to their usual routine. That was why it felt odd to Leslie on the morning of Saturday, July 12, to discover that both of this weekend's fantasies involved teenagers. A large family, headed by a single mother, piled off the plane first, nearly depleting the native girls of their stock of leis.
"Mrs. Corina Knight, recently divorced from a very rich man, and her children Jenny, David, Brian and Tara, all from McMinnville, Oregon," Roarke introduced them. "They lack for very little, if anything, even after the divorce; and Mrs. Knight feels that her children are becoming quite spoiled as a result. Thus her fantasy: to be poor for a weekend."
Leslie laughed. "That's some twist. Should be interesting to watch."
"That's for sure," agreed Tattoo. "But it won't be very hard, huh boss? After all, it's easy to turn someone into a poor person."
"Indeed it is," Roarke said. "And certainly so compared to our other fantasy this weekend. The couple are Jonathan and Ellen Stone, with their two children—Rodney, sixteen, and Joanna, who is your age, Leslie. Five years ago, Mrs. Stone and the children were involved in a serious collision with a drunk driver. Joanna and her mother escaped with minor injuries; however, Rodney was quite badly injured and barely survived. A third child, fifteen-year-old Wendy, was killed."
"Oh no," Leslie murmured.
"That must be why Rodney has that limp," Tattoo observed. The boy did indeed have a pronounced limp, although he walked without assistance.
"Precisely," Roarke said. "Unfortunately, the Stones are on the brink of divorce. Mrs. Stone is obsessed with finding the drunken driver who hit them and bringing him to justice; she has concentrated so fiercely on this, and on the death of her oldest child, that Rodney and Joanna feel neglected, and Mr. Stone has wearied of his wife's tunnel vision. It is his and the children's hope that this weekend will finally cure Mrs. Stone of her single-mindedness and perhaps bring about a satisfactory solution for all of them."
Before either Leslie or Tattoo could ask any more questions, Roarke's drink arrived, and he greeted and toasted his guests as he always did. Under cover of all this, Tattoo leaned behind Roarke and said softly, "Hey, Leslie, that boy's looking at you."
"What boy?" Leslie demanded.
"Look," Tattoo said and gave a jerk of his head in the direction of their guests. Leslie cautiously slanted a peek that way, and realized that Rodney Stone was indeed gazing at her. She felt herself redden; all she needed was more boy trouble. She had enough to deal with, between Michiko's brother, Hachiro "Toki" Tokita, and Camille's brother Tommy!
‡ ‡ ‡
They had about an hour before the first fantasy was to get under way, and Tattoo used the opportunity to gently tease Leslie about attracting Rodney Stone's interest. Roarke looked up in surprise at hearing this and then took in Leslie's red-faced reaction. "What's this, my friend?" he interjected.
"Didn't you see Rodney Stone watching Leslie at the plane dock?" Tattoo asked, as if Roarke had missed something even more obvious than the color of the sky. "She's gonna be beating them off with a stick." He smirked.
"To whom else are you referring?" Roarke asked.
"What do you mean, boss?" Tattoo said blankly.
"You said 'them'," Roarke pointed out. "Are there others besides the Stone boy?"
"Oh." Tattoo laughed. "I guess you missed what happened at Leslie's birthday party a couple months ago. The brothers of two of her friends were there and gave her birthday presents. Tommy Ichino made a nice choice with the necklace he gave her, but that Tokita kid must be a born troublemaker."
Roarke looked faintly puzzled and frowned a little when Tattoo grinned, clearly highly amused. Leslie, on the other hand, was scowling at the memory. "What exactly did Michiko's brother give you, Leslie?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. "A book of insults," she said. "Can you imagine that, Mr. Roarke? Poor Michiko was so embarrassed, she kept apologizing for him the rest of the night. I can't figure out what Myeko sees in that clod."
Roarke laughed. "I see. So you already have the attentions of Tommy, not to mention the negative ones from young Hachiro, to deal with. And now apparently Tattoo thinks still another young man has taken notice of you."
Tattoo was still grinning broadly. "On her first day here, she told me that boys don't notice her. Well, Leslie, you were wrong."
"Oh, cut it out," she grumbled. She was so red-faced that Roarke took pity on her.
"Perhaps it's time to drop the subject, my friend," he suggested. "The Stones are due here in a few more minutes."
As though on cue, there was a knock on the door and it opened, admitting the Stone family. Roarke arose and invited them fully inside; Ellen Stone sat, as did Rodney, while her husband and daughter hovered behind Rodney's chair. "Is there anything I can get you?" Roarke inquired.
All four declined, so Roarke sat again and Tattoo took his usual spot near his boss's chair while Leslie settled in her accustomed seat next to the desk, deliberately not looking at Rodney for fear she'd catch him watching her again. "So how do you find Fantasy Island?" Roarke asked.
"Very beautiful," Jonathan Stone said while his wife shifted impatiently in her chair. "I have to admit that Rodney and Joanna weren't too enthusiastic about this trip, but I can see Rodney's found something that might make him change his mind." Leslie blushed furiously and Rodney rolled his eyes, evoking laughter from the adults. Joanna, a slim girl with a close-cut cap of light-blonde hair, peered curiously at her.
"Is she someone who helps you out or something?" Joanna asked.
Roarke smiled at her. "As a matter of fact, she does help me a bit each weekend. This is Leslie Hamilton, my ward, who is fourteen and came to us just a few months ago."
Ellen Stone finally cleared her throat. "Mr. Roarke," she said pointedly, "I thought we were here to discuss my fantasy." At this, annoyed expressions flitted across both Joanna's and Rodney's faces before they settled themselves, as though to expect a long wait and a story they had already heard too many times. Their father merely sighed and gazed out at the scene beyond the open French doors.
"Very well, Mrs. Stone," Roarke said, his voice cooling slightly but as polite as ever. "I know the circumstances of the tragic accident you and your children were involved in, but you didn't say whether you knew the identity of the person who hit you."
"Of course I do," said Ellen Stone, as if to a slow-witted person. "We sued Angela Gorman for damages and emotional trauma. She caused the death of my Wendy, after all, and I want to see her pay. The problem is that she skipped the country as soon as the police released her from the accident scene. The woman didn't have a scratch on her." Her voice was very bitter. "I'm tired of her getting away with what she did. I want to see her pay for it, Mr. Roarke. It's time she got the punishment that's coming to her."
Roarke leaned forward across the desk. "Mrs. Stone, before I continue, I should advise you that it is unwise and very ill-advised to try to take justice into your own hands. There are proper channels through which to pursue your claim against Ms. Gorman—"
Mrs. Stone interrupted him. "Mr. Roarke, you don't understand what I've been through. Five years of anguish and of missing my child, who can never come back to me. Five years of waiting to find out where that woman is and when she's going to face the music. My fantasy is to see her get what she deserves. I paid good money for you to grant it, Mr. Roarke, and I demand that you do!"
Roarke regarded her for a very long minute, during which Stone frowned and Rodney and Joanna looked at each other uneasily. Finally Roarke sat back and said quietly, "Very well, then, you shall have your fantasy. But you yourself may pay a very high price."
"I already have," Ellen Stone said coldly. "Now tell me where to find Angela Gorman."
"Ellen, dammit," her husband broke in warningly, "you're insulting our host. I wouldn't be surprised if he refused to grant you this crazy fantasy of yours; in fact, I wish he would. For the last time, I'm asking you to let it go."
She turned to look at him and her face seemed to crumple. "I can't, Jonathan," she said, her voice breaking. "You know it's impossible!"
He sighed in frustration and flapped a hand as if dismissing her. "Fine, Ellen, fine. But don't expect to find us here when you get what you want." So saying, he turned and stalked out of the house.
Ellen Stone turned her attention back to Roarke, as if Rodney and Joanna didn't exist. "He's never understood, Mr. Roarke. I have to do this—it's for Wendy."
Roarke nodded slowly; Leslie thought there was more he wanted to say, but instead he merely told her where Angela Gorman was. "You'll find her at the hotel."
"Thank you…thank you so much." She rose, pivoted and departed.
"Damn her to hell," Rodney Stone said deliberately when the door had closed behind her. Roarke, Tattoo and Leslie exchanged glances; Joanna turned red. "She claims it's for Wendy, but that's a lie. Wendy's dead and couldn't care less whether she gets justice or not. My mother's doing this for herself, Mr. Roarke."
Roarke nodded slowly and after a moment said quietly, "Yes, I know, Rodney."
Both the Stone children stared at him in astonishment. "Then why didn't you tell her you wouldn't grant her fantasy?" Joanna asked plaintively.
"Unfortunately, children, your mother will have to discover for herself that seeing a dream come true isn't always a desirable thing. As for you two…" He smiled then, his whole demeanor changing. "I can understand that you both feel you are here under duress, because of your mother's fantasy. I don't often do this, but we are going to need some assistance with our other fantasy, and I think you two will fit the bill very nicely."
Rodney and Joanna gawked at him; Leslie turned to him curiously. "How so?"
"The three of you—you, Joanna and Rodney—should be able to fill minor roles in the Knights' fantasy," Roarke said. "We have approximately half an hour before they arrive, so there should be enough time to get you ready. This is what I have in mind…"
‡ ‡ ‡
Corina Knight stood in front of Roarke's desk with her four children—eighteen-year-old Brian, sixteen-year-old Jenny, fourteen-year-old David and nine-year-old Tara—and eyed Roarke hopefully. "I just about had to chain them up to get them here," she told him, ignoring her offspring's mutinous glances. "I'm so fed up with the gimme, gimme, gimme mentality. Their father gives them anything they want, just to spite me. I can't do much about him, but maybe I can do something about them."
Roarke smiled broadly. "I believe we have a scenario that will fit your requirements," he said genially. "It involves time travel, actually, so if you'd rather not risk it, say so now."
Mrs. Knight glanced at the kids, who were staring at one another in surprise at the mention of time travel. Before she could speak, Tara broke in, "Are we going back to the real old days, when all they had was black-and-white TV?"
Her mother rolled her eyes while Roarke stifled a smile and Tara's older brothers and sister snickered. "If you think black-and-white TV was a hardship, try no TV at all," David announced. "They used to sit around and watch the radio every night."
Roarke was grinning a bit by now. "Kids," Mrs. Knight said loudly, "why don't you let Mr. Roarke tell us what he has in mind."
"Jousters in shining armor," Jenny said dreamily. "I'd never have to walk anywhere—men were decent back then and always carried women everywhere."
"Geez," David groaned in disgust.
"The Roman gladiators," Brian offered then. "Always wanted to meet Julius Caesar."
Finally Roarke spoke up. "Actually, I believe I have just the era for you. If you will meet me back here in one hour, then we can begin your fantasy."
"I hope it's not medieval England," David said immediately, while his mother herded her offspring toward the door. "No electricity."
"Filthy, unwashed bodies," Jenny said, "and no hair dryers!"
"I hope we don't go all the way back to World War I," Tara said. "We were studying about that just before school let out, and it sounded awful."
"It was romantic," Jenny said.
"It was cool," Brian added. "War planes filling the sky. The Red Baron. Man, I'd get a real thrill out of hunting down the Red Baron!"
"The fifties would be excellent," David suggested. "Cool cars and cool kids, just like in that movie Grease that we saw last year. Maybe we can go back to that time!"
"Kids…" their mother said ritualistically, and with that they were finally out the door.
Tattoo, who had stood by in silence the entire time, looked at Roarke and shook his head. "I guess I can see what their priorities are. Boss, where do you plan to send them?"
Roarke smiled. "Oh, not so very far back, my friend…but far enough that they may learn something this weekend."
"Don't forget, you're sending Leslie back there too," Tattoo said, frowning. "Not to mention the children of a guest. Does their father know what you plan to do?"
Roarke awarded him an annoyed look. "Do you doubt me that much, Tattoo? When have I been known to mistreat a guest?"
Tattoo thought about this. "Well, there was a time when…"
"That will do," Roarke cut him off. "And by the way, your memory of that time is completely distorted." So saying, he exited through the French doors, leaving Tattoo standing open-mouthed at the desk.
In the meantime, Leslie, Rodney and Joanna had been sitting around an umbrella-shaded table set up in the clearing by the main house, chatting. A little uneasy with one another at first, they had soon warmed enough that Joanna felt bold enough to ask Leslie how she'd happened to become Roarke's ward. Leslie told the story, still a little haltingly at times, blinking back tears once. The Stone children watched with sympathy. "We used to miss Wendy that way too," Rodney remarked.
Leslie tipped her head slightly to one side in surprise. " 'Used to'?"
Rodney scowled, and Joanna made a face. "Well, we did until Mom turned Wendy's death into the most important thing in her life," she said. "Mom's been on a one-woman crusade to find that driver that hit us, and she's turned Wendy's room into a shrine. She's the only one who's even allowed to go in there, and she won't change anything at all—it's like she thinks Wendy just ran away and will be coming back someday. But we were there, and we know Wendy's gone forever."
"You must have had nightmares about the accident," Leslie ventured, "the same way I had them about that fire."
"I bet you did," Rodney said. "Yeah, sometimes Jo and I dream about it. Jo just sees the other car heading for us, but I always see Wendy."
Both Leslie and Joanna looked at him with the same level of surprise. "You never told anybody that," said Joanna.
Rodney cleared his throat. "Jo and I were in the back," he explained to Leslie, "and Wendy was up front with Mom. The other car came at us head-on at first, and Mom swerved to the left trying to avoid it. It hit the passenger side of the car—that's why I was hurt so bad and Wendy was killed. I was sitting behind Wendy, but the seat was crushed and I could see her." He squeezed his eyes shut and winced all at once. "I could be ninety-six and a half and in a nursing home with complete dementia, and I'll still have the memory of the way she looked. Her body was crushed and her face was fractured, and everything was covered in blood." He shuddered so hard the table shook. "To this day I still have that dream, and the last image I see is always Wendy's body…all broken and bloody."
"Does your mother know?" Leslie asked.
Rodney visibly shook off the gruesome memory and looked at the umbrella over their heads with great annoyance. "Why bother? She lives for the memory of Wendy, and she hardly notices Jo and I are there. If the two of us ran away, she probably wouldn't even know we were gone. It's like we don't exist."
"If it weren't for Dad," Joanna agreed, "we probably would've run off by now."
"So we're at the point where we just can't stand the mention of Wendy anymore," Rodney went on. "I mean, look…I'm as sorry as anyone that Wendy died. But we're fed up with Mom's obsession, and it's so out of hand now that Dad's threatening to get a divorce. Dad's the one who's pulled us through all this."
In the middle of Rodney's speech Joanna had been distracted by something, and now she asked, "Who's that?" Leslie turned to look and groaned softly. Emerging from a path known only to the resident islanders were Tommy Ichino and Toki Tokita. As soon as they realized they had her attention, they waved.
"Hey!" shouted Toki. "What's going on out here?"
Leslie chewed on her lip, but Joanna demanded, "Who wants to know?"
"I do," Toki replied. He was fifteen and for some reason enjoyed harassing Leslie, in spite of the fact that Michiko often berated him for doing so. Ever since Leslie's birthday party, he had apparently made it his mission in life to taunt her, and she had no idea why.
"Who said it was any of your business?" Joanna said rudely. "Maybe we don't feel like telling you just because you want to know."
"We don't mean to intrude," Tommy said, "but…well, mind if we join you? I mean, heck, it's the middle of summer and there's not very much to do. We're always interested when there're new people around."
Rodney sized him up and shrugged. "Yeah, if you want." Tommy was sixteen, like Rodney, and had a secret crush on Leslie. Tommy suspected this was also Toki's problem, but Toki had blown it very early on by giving Leslie that ill-chosen birthday present. He himself enjoyed an advantage over Toki in that he had taken care to become Leslie's friend.
"There's only one chair," Leslie said.
Tommy was quicker on the uptake and immediately sat down; not to be outdone, Toki dragged a chair away from one of the other tables and sat between Joanna and Leslie. Joanna hitched her chair away from him and closer to her brother.
"Friends of yours?" Rodney asked Leslie.
Leslie, feeling a bit trapped, nodded. "Well, one of them is anyway. Tommy Ichino, Toki Tokita, meet Rodney and Joanna Stone. Their mom's here for a fantasy."
"Cool," said Tommy. "Where you from?"
"Evansville, Indiana," Rodney replied. "Hate to say it, and it's a long story, but Mom's fantasy isn't exactly what we'd call cool. Jo and I weren't too sure we wanted to go, but Dad figured we could at least break up our boring summer." He and Tommy both grinned.
"How long you planning to stay?" Toki asked suspiciously.
"Just the weekend," Joanna informed him in freezing tones. "So you don't have to worry that us foreigners are invading your precious territory."
"Huh," Toki grumbled, but subsided. Tommy gave Toki a disgusted look, and Rodney squinted distrustfully at both of them. Leslie witnessed all this with a growing unease and decided it was up to her to break the thickening ice.
"So what're you doing this weekend?" she asked, directing the question at Tommy.
Tommy shrugged and relaxed a bit in his chair. "Not much," he said, "at least not for a change. Camille's quad-sitting again—I managed to get out before I could get trapped."
"Quad-sitting?" Rodney asked blankly.
Tommy grinned crookedly. "My mother had quadruplets in April," he explained with a deep sigh. "Every reporter on earth came here when they were born, especially after they turned out to be two sets of identical twins, and it took almost a month to get rid of them all. Even now they still make the news, mostly tabloids and stuff. But they just drive us crazy. My sisters Andrea and Camille and I always seem to get dragooned into watching those little bums."
"Wow," said Joanna. "I remember hearing about that now. Your poor mom must be exhausted all the time."
"Boy, you sure got that right," Tommy said vehemently. "We have no social life left because of those four screaming runts. They eat like there was no tomorrow and process it into about 500 dirty diapers a day. And guess who gets to clean them all up?" He made a face that evoked laughter from all of them. "Don't ever wish for more brothers and sisters in your family. I used to want a brother to even things out in mine, and I got my wish and then some. I've been thinking about asking my mother to forgive me."
Again they all laughed, and then Rodney remarked sourly, "Well, that's not too likely to happen in our family. My mother already thinks she has about two kids too many."
"How's that?" Tommy asked curiously, and Rodney briefly explained about the car accident, their sister's death and their mother's obsession.
"That's why she has the fantasy," he said. "I guess Mr. Roarke managed to find the woman who ran into us, and now Mom's on the warpath and determined to get her share of blood out of the proverbial turnip. Nothing we say will change her mind, so I guess Dad figured if she gets it out of her system this weekend, she might go back to normal."
At that point Leslie saw a red station wagon with a candy-striped canopy top come to a stop in the lane near the fountain. "Mr. Roarke's back," she said with relief.
"I hope he got Dad's permission," Joanna said excitedly, already getting up. Leslie joined her, and they both waited for Rodney, who as Toki and Tommy watched flattened his hands on the chair's armrails and pushed himself into a standing position. The girls then accompanied him to the station wagon, matching his pace.
"So he's crippled, huh," Toki muttered.
Tommy rolled his eyes. "He limps, Tokita, but that doesn't make him crippled." He got up and headed back across the clearing, wondering in spite of himself if there was anything between Leslie and Rodney Stone. He had seen how intense the conversation had been as he and Toki came in, and remembered that Rodney's sister had said very little. As for Toki, he didn't think he had much competition there; it was clear that Leslie couldn't stand him, as her hackles seemed to rise every time he was around.
