§ § § -- January 15, 2001 – Fantasy Island

Roarke and Leslie were enjoying a late, leisurely breakfast on the veranda, basking in the quiet of a Monday morning and enjoying the fresh breeze that drifted through from time to time. Leslie yawned long and large over her plate and then grinned a little sheepishly at Roarke's odd look. "I must still be tired," she said. "I've been running around so much the last five days that I think I could sleep the rest of the day away. I mean, I haven't even had a chance to just sit down and read!"

"Well, if you'd prefer to go back to bed, I won't stop you," Roarke said as a jeep came around the bend in the lane, "but I daresay you may not wish to do so, if my guess is correct." Leslie peered at him oddly, but had no chance to speak, for the jeep came to a stop in front of the house and a familiar figure carrying something in one hand leaped out of the passenger side, scaling the steps in one jump and striding rapidly in their direction. Leslie bolted out of her chair and ran to meet him.

"Christian!" she cried in delight. "You said you couldn't come back till the end of the winter! Did you get a reprieve or something?"

"You might say that," Christian said, laughing and hugging her hard. "You can't imagine how wonderful it is to see you again, my Leslie Rose."

"How long can you stay this time?" she asked.

Christian regarded her impishly and inquired, "How does 'forever' sound?"

"For—??" she began, but before the word could completely sink in, he drew back long enough to shake open the folded newspaper in his hand and hold it up to display its headline at her. It was a copy of that morning's Fantasy Island Chronicle, and the headline stated in large black block letters, LILLA JORDSÖ PRINCE DIVORCED.

Leslie gawked at the paper, her lower jaw sinking, her eyes popping and her hands drifting up to cover her open mouth. Then her gaze shot up to meet Christian's; his face was alight with glee, his infectious grin all but splitting it in two.

"You mean…you…you…you're free? We can…we can…we can…" she stammered, so stunned that she was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Yes, we can!" Christian exclaimed, nodding vigorously. "Marina has already married her man, as I understand it. Shall we follow her lead, my Leslie Rose?"

"Yes!" she shrieked and threw herself at him; he caught her, laughing all over again for the sheer joy of it. "Oh, Christian, my God, it's a…it must be a miracle! How did it…what happened? How is it possible?"

Christian met Roarke's gaze over her shoulder and returned his wink with an A-OK sign. "Well, I see you're in the middle of breakfast, and they didn't feed me on the charter—nor even on the flight from Los Angeles to Honolulu last night! I'm starved, so perhaps you'd let me join you and Mr. Roarke and I can explain it over the meal."

"Of course! Come on, sit over here," Leslie exclaimed, shaky with joy and disbelief. She and Christian took their usual chairs and Christian began to fill a plate, while his final sentence suddenly registered with her and she stared at Roarke. "Father, did you know about all this?"

"Oh, I've known for over a year," Roarke said casually and laughed at her expression. "You have your cousin Rogan to thank for all this, to answer one of your questions. For the past year he has been quietly laboring over his own amakarna crop."

Again Leslie gaped; something in her told her she was likely to be stunned quite a bit this morning. "Rogan was…? But I don't understand! Amakarna doesn't like the soil here, so how could he possibly grow it?"

"Quite simple: he spent the first month merely analyzing the local dirt. It seems that if it's allowed to rest for a time, spread out in a shallow layer in a dark room, something about its character changes. I found it somewhat strange myself when Rogan explained to me that the component that normally kills the plant evaporates under these conditions. But as it turned out, that was only the first step. When he had enough soil to work with, he then found that the plants did not produce fruit, and made a trip to Italy to find out what the vital ingredient might be. He never did tell me whether he actually infiltrated the count's greenhouses, but I wouldn't put it past him."

Leslie and Christian laughed. "That'd be typical Rogan," Leslie agreed. "So did he find the missing link?"

Roarke nodded. "Italy lies on an active seismic zone, and there is much rich soil there. So when Rogan returned home, he gathered some soil from around Mount Tutumoa and let it rest as before. He was closer to the mark then, but as has been noted in the past, amakarna is not easy to grow. All through the year he tested plant after plant, using as seed the small supply of amakarna he brought here with him."

Christian paused in the middle of raising his fork. "How can that be? The spice can act as a seed, then?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," Roarke said, "as long as it is not too finely ground. The contents of the jar he had were the consistency of common table salt, a distinctly granular texture that can be used to cultivate new plants. As late as last month he wasn't at all certain he would ever succeed in taming the species; but on New Year's Eve, Leslie, shortly after you retired for the night, he came rushing here to announce that he had conquered the plant at last and had a thriving crop, enough to offer it for sale. And he told me without further ado that he intended his first customer to be King Arnulf, for he wanted nothing more than to bring yours and Christian's long wait to an end at last."

Leslie, dazed, shook her head in wonder. "He had no reason to do that, and yet he did it anyway," she said softly. "I've got to remember to thank him."

"Indeed," Roarke agreed. "Well, now that you have the story as I know it, perhaps Christian can take over while we finish our meal. After all, there's a wedding to plan."

"How long have you known about this?" Leslie asked Christian then.

"Not much longer than you have, my Leslie Rose," Christian said, chuckling at the memory. "The last eight days have been among the most hectic of my life. The Saturday before last, I got a phone call from Arnulf, completely out of nowhere, announcing that he had signed a new contract and Marina and I were free to end our marriage. Naturally, we rushed right over to the castle and did the deed, and walked out as two single individuals. The paperwork that officiates my giving up the right to be called a prince is still pending, and I imagine it will take a while, knowing how slow government is. At any rate, the moment we got back to my flat in the city, Marina got in touch with her boyfriend to tell him the news, and as soon as she hung up with him, she ran to her room and began to pack like something possessed. It was truly amazing. In less than ninety minutes she had cleaned out every single one of her belongings from her room and was ready to leave for Italy—which she did in very short order. It was a strange leave-taking…we wished each other luck, and shook hands, and then she picked up her luggage and walked out of my life. She didn't even want me to help her carry her bags nor take her to the airport." He grinned. "It seems she wanted to be quit of me right then and there. In all honesty, I was just as happy about it. I had forgotten what it was like to have my own apartment to myself!"

Leslie laughed. "So then what did you do?"

"I spent the rest of that first day on the phone," Christian said, speaking to Roarke as well as Leslie. "The biggest thing came first: arranging to have my furniture shipped here to the island. Naturally, that has to be done by boat, and I was told first thing that it would take at least four months and as much as six. Telling them who I was made no difference." He caught Roarke's amused glint and said in an ironic aside, "Yes, I know, a taste of my future life as ordinary Christian Enstad. Well, in any case, they told me they would be happy to come out and pick up whatever I planned to ship. We should have a good start, Leslie: my bed is on its way, along with a sofa, my computer desk and chair, two end tables and a coffee table, a dining table and four chairs, a dresser with mirror, a chest of drawers, and a curio cabinet my mother willed to me—complete with a few curios."

"But we don't have a place to put all that yet," Leslie said, eyes widening with realization. "We don't have a house…"

"There's time to discuss that," Roarke said. "Let's take things in order and let Christian finish telling his tale first."

Christian smiled and took a sip of orange juice. "I'm looking forward to that little discussion, actually…but you're right, first things first. I next called a real-estate agency and listed the flat for sale; and when that was done, I gathered together the things I knew I couldn't take with me and began calling relatives. Anna-Kristina now has the computer I so painstakingly programmed to suit my needs and quirks, and she's promised to take good care of it. She came with me, by the way—she insisted that she must be here for our wedding, and she's at the bungalow, sleeping or something. Other things, such as small kitchen appliances, lamps and the like, went to Gerhard and Liselotta or to Cecilia and Axel, along with a few odds and ends that I really didn't want or need any longer. I did keep a couple of paintings I bought years ago, and I packed and shipped things like bed linens and towels, pots, pans and some dishes, and what-have-you. My clothing, though, I brought along with me—it took up four suitcases. Anna-Kristina had to pretend one of them was hers so that I didn't have to pay extra freight." They all laughed. "I told Arnulf at the time we signed the annulment papers that I meant to be out of the country in a week at most. It took me longer than that because I had to make rearrangements with my company. I hired two extra techs, gave Jörgen—my manager—a raise, and told him to hire a receptionist to take calls and make appointments. Everything will be conducted over e-mail for a while where that location is concerned. And today, if possible, I need to at least pay a visit to my office here and make sure everything is going smoothly. I must say, Mateo Apana is a truly excellent manager; he has kept in faithful touch with me all this time, seen to it that operations go well and given me regular progress reports. But it will be nice to get a firsthand look at it." He drank down a goodly amount of his juice.

Leslie asked, "How long do you think that'll take? As Father said, there's a wedding to plan. And I want to do it soon."

"Next weekend?" Christian offered.

"No," she said and rolled her eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. "How about tomorrow then?"

"No," Leslie said again, biting her lip, her voice softening as she gazed at him. "I'd rather marry you this very second."

Christian's features relaxed into a smile and he wrapped one hand around hers. "If truth be told, I'd prefer that myself, even if only to prevent Arnulf from coming up with some new stranger out of the woodwork to marry me off to."

"But," Roarke broke in, speaking mainly to his daughter, "tomorrow will be quite soon enough. I'm sure you would both prefer that it be done properly."

Christian and Leslie regarded each other wistfully, then broke into sheepish grins at the same moment. "You're right, Father," Leslie admitted, backed up by Christian's nod. "I need a nice dress, for one thing, and for another, we need to call the minister at that little church in Amberville." She turned to Christian. "Tattoo gave me away when I married Teppo, and Father performed the wedding ceremony. This time I want Father to give me away to you. He shouldn't have to do any more work than that."

"What about attendants?" Roarke asked.

Leslie glanced at Christian. "I'm not sure what you had in mind, but I was thinking, no real attendants, just witnesses. I'll ask all my friends, and we should have Julie and Rogan there, and of course Anna-Kristina. If there's someone you want to ask…"

"I think you've covered everyone," Christian said, grinning. "My thoughts have been running towards a quiet wedding, too. I already had the big fussy ceremony once, when I was married to Johanna; and I remember feeling overwhelmed for days afterward. But I don't want it sneaked up on me from behind, as with Marina. I want it done right, but there's no need to have half the world attending the thing."

"But you must have a reception," said Roarke, looking at some point off to their left, "if only to appease the rest of the island." Christian and Leslie looked around and saw Mariki bringing her serving cart out from the kitchen; she blinked at sight of Christian.

"Well, if it isn't Prince Christian! When did you get in, Your Highness?" she asked.

"About half an hour ago," Christian chuckled. "Hello, Mariki, it's good to see you again. Breakfast was delicious."

Mariki beamed. "Thank you…and so, how long are you here?"

"You mean you haven't seen the local paper?" Leslie asked, amazed. "I thought I was the last one to know. Christian's divorced from Marina, and he's here for good. Tomorrow we're getting married."

"Oh my goodness." Mariki gaped at them in astonishment. "It finally happened. Well, I heard Mr. Roarke say something about a reception, and you can rest assured there's going to be the biggest one we've ever put on. Even if you two elope, you're still going to be the guests of honor at this party, so you'd both just better resign yourselves."

"Listen," said Leslie, "as far as I'm concerned, the reception is all yours to plan, along with whoever else wants to get in on this thing. We've already pretty much decided on all the details of the wedding, and it'll be quiet, so knock yourselves out."

Mariki grinned broadly and actually rubbed her hands together with glee. "Then you'd better brace yourselves," she warned happily and started clearing dishes off the table, while Christian and Leslie burst out laughing and Roarke chuckled with them, shaking his head indulgently.