§ § § -- April 28, 2002

They reached Fantasy Island early that afternoon—Sunday in fact, since they crossed the International Date Line again—and were driven to the main house, where they found Roarke dealing with a guest. "But I'm telling you, Mr. Roarke, I wanted Jack to notice me, not Bill!" the woman began, then noticed Roarke's gaze straying and turned to stare at Leslie and Christian in the foyer. "Who are you two?"

"They are my daughter and son-in-law," Roarke answered for them, casting them a quick smile. "One moment, Christian and Leslie. Ms. Gaines, it seems to me that despite your stated wishes, whatever you have been doing to attract Mr. White has failed to do so. I thought you said you knew the man well."

The woman insisted, "I do! You said I'd have my fantasy, so why is Bill the one chasing me instead of Jack? I think I want my money back."

"It's not possible even for me to control the vagaries of love," Roarke said gently, with a swift glance at an amused Christian and Leslie. "However, Ms. Gaines, if you are indeed so determined to win over Mr. White rather than Mr. Jameson, you might consider doing something different—something Mr. White never expected."

"Change tactics," Leslie interjected, unable to keep from slipping into her role as her father's assistant. "Sometimes if you do something a guy had no idea you were capable of doing, it changes the whole way he looks at you. Go out on a limb, if you want him that much. You might be surprised."

The woman stared at her thoughtfully. "You know, that might be just the ticket. I guess another woman would understand these things. Thank you, young lady. I'm going out to start right now." She took off through the French shutters, and when she was safely out of earshot, Roarke, Christian and Leslie all started to laugh.

"Only another woman," Christian said, chortling. "Perhaps it's as well we arrived when we did, or you might have been writing out a check, Mr. Roarke."

Roarke laughed again. "Quite possible! Welcome home, both of you; how did the trip go? I hope you didn't find it too traumatic, Leslie."

She hugged him. "Well, there were some rough spots here and there, but in the end I think I finally conquered the last of the demons. Father, you should only see what I brought home with me. It turned out that what they found was a safe—one Mom bought so that she could protect some things she wanted me to have after the fire. Mom put away two photo albums, some pictures and a diary from my grandmother's trip to Lilla Jordsö, a letter to me, and a cassette tape. We've looked at everything else, but we had no way to play the tape, so I thought we could listen to it here. If you have enough time, I'd like you to hear it too."

Roarke glanced between them. "I believe there are some spare moments. If you'll leave your bags here for now, we can go up and listen to it."

In the spare room Roarke put the cassette into the tape player and started it; then they sat together on the sofa, Leslie in between her father and her husband. Both men anticipated looming emotion on her part, and Roarke took Leslie's left hand while Christian took her right, interlacing their fingers as he so often did. The unrecordable "leader" at the beginning of the tape played out and there was a faint hiss of background noise for a second; then a young girl's voice asked, "Is it time to talk yet?"

"Kelly!" Leslie whispered, lurching forward a little. Christian squeezed her hand.

"I think you can say something," said Shannon Hamilton's voice.

"Like what?" asked what sounded like the same voice. Roarke and Christian saw Leslie mouth the name Kristy and looked at each other over her head.

"Anything," the woman said with a chuckle.

"I'll start, then. My name is Kelly Janet Hamilton and I'm eleven years old. And we're recording this tape on August…August…Mom, what's today?" The listeners laughed, Leslie through forming tears.

Shannon's voice provided, "August nineteenth, honey."

"Oh yeah. August nineteenth, 1978. And we live at 85 Banner Street, Susanville, California…"

"Yak, yak, yak," came a new voice, and Leslie turned so red that Roarke and Christian burst out laughing: for it had been hers. "Geez, Kelly, say something worth listening to!"

"Okay then, that's my sister Leslie, she's thirteen, and she's the bossiest big sister ever," shot back Kelly, which generated still more laughter. Even Leslie was giggling helplessly, though tears still stood in her eyes.

On the tape they could hear laughter in Shannon's voice too. "Kelly, be nice," she said. "Let Leslie or Kristy have a turn now."

"I don't know what to say, though. How do you talk to somebody you can't see?"

"The same way you draw something you can't see, like your stupid old unicorns."

"I can see unicorns! I know exactly what they look like."

"Yeah, you just don't have any imagination. If unicorns were real, they'd look just like Kristy's."

"Well, they're not. And I do too have imagination. I'm the one who thought up that dance that me and Angie did in school right before summer vacation. My teacher said I have a great imagination—so there."

"Girls, don't argue, please." This through a laugh. "Talk to us, Kristy."

"Who's gonna listen to it, though?"

"I dunno. Maybe we're just talking to ourselves."

"Yeah—our future selves! When we're all grown up and stuff, we can listen to this and remember what we sound like now. Course, you sound like a dope."

"Then so do you, 'cause we sound exactly alike." This degenerated into an argument, backed up by Leslie's voice laughing and Shannon trying to defuse the situation; Roarke and Christian, the latter of whom had been laughing helplessly throughout, both turned to Leslie to gauge her reaction. One tear was suspended on her cheek, but she was clearly amused.

"She started it," came a twin's voice, immediately and predictably followed by, "I did not, you did!" To which Leslie immediately remarked, "She lied."

"How can you tell who said what?" Christian asked, astonished. "The twins do sound exactly alike. How do you know?"

"They were my sisters," Leslie said, shrugging. "Mom and I could always tell them apart. It wasn't that hard."

Christian shook his head. "And even more than twenty years later, you can still tell them apart? Leslie, sometimes you truly puzzle me." She grinned at him, and they quieted, listening to Kristy introducing herself and self-consciously talking about what she liked to do. "Besides drawing stupid unicorns," interjected Kelly, which set off Christian's laughter again.

"You shut up, Kelly Hamilton. You already had your turn. I can't think of anything to say anymore. Leslie, you go now."

"Well…I like reading, and the TV show 'King's Castle', and—"

"You're supposed to say your name, you doofus!"

"Oh, for Pete's sake. Okay, all right, my name's Leslie Susan Hamilton, I'm thirteen, and I have two real goofballs for sisters. Honestly! Mom, I really can't think of anything good to say. I just sound dumb."

"No you don't, honey. Are you sure you don't want to say anything else?"

"Yeah…I mean, it's hard to talk into a tape recorder. Kristy and Kelly want to do all the talking, so maybe we should just let them hog the tape." This comment evoked a shout of laughter from Christian, and Roarke and Leslie grinned at each other, enjoying his reactions as much as the voices on the tape. Behind his mirth, the twins picked a fight with their older sister again, and for some time the tape played out in this manner; Shannon must have realized that her daughters sounded much more natural when allowed to argue. When the fight finally died out, they heard a phone ring on the tape, and Leslie's voice volunteered to answer it. It developed that the caller was Cindy Lou, who had invited Leslie over; Shannon told her she could go, and they heard a door close a moment later.

"Now," Shannon said, "what about you two?"

"What about us? Do we have to let Kristy talk about her stupid unicorns again?"

"Kelly Hamilton, I'm gonna beat you up. You just wait, I'm gonna get you so bad…"

"I don't think that's what we want to hear," Shannon said, laughing. "Listen…" The next words came out with studied casualness that sobered all three listeners. "I was thinking about giving this tape to Leslie to keep, and later we can make a tape for each one of you to keep the same way, so all three of you will have one for when you're grown up. So why don't you two record a message for Leslie? Something nice, now…don't make fun of your sister."

"I don't know why not. She makes fun of us a lot."

"No she doesn't. Just you, 'cause you do so many stupid things. She always protects me from Dad when he gets mad at us. That means Leslie's my favorite sister."

"She's still more scared of Dad than I am. But I guess she's not as scared as you. Anyway, she told me how every time I run out the door, she laughs at Dad. She's on my side too, y'know. She never says anything when Dad's mad. Mom, how come Dad always gets so mad at us? Maybe he hates us."

"That's just your dad, sweetheart…"

"He's a meanie, that's why. Do we have to talk about him? That'll just ruin the whole tape. Mom said to say something nice to Leslie."

"Okay…'something nice.' There, I said it."

"You're so crummy! And that's the worst joke I ever heard! Sorry, grown-up Leslie. She didn't really mean that. She just tells dumb jokes all the time."

"I like jokes, and Leslie likes 'em too. She laughs at all my jokes. She'd laugh at yours if you told any, but you draw all your jokes. Stupid unicorns."

"That's it! You better look out!!…" This was followed by running footsteps and shrieking laughter, which rapidly faded into the background. Shannon chuckled, in tandem with Christian's helpless laughter in the here-and-now.

"Those two," she murmured. "Leslie, I'm sorry this didn't turn out quite the way I hoped it would. Maybe when you listen to this later, you'll get a laugh out of it…I know you're going to remember Kelly forever twitting poor Kristy about her unicorns. The strange part of that is, maybe you yourself will have a chance to see some unicorns…" There was a pause and then a long sigh. "This is very likely going to be the only tape we make, because you're the only one who's going to survive to adulthood. You see, honey, just before you were born, I took a trip to Fantasy Island. Mormor suggested it, and I thought it was a good idea…that curse your father keeps denying, you know what I mean. Anyway…" They listened, Leslie in a still silence and Christian and Roarke both watching her in concern, while Shannon explained her trip to the island and the reasons for it, and then paused. When she spoke again, her voice had tears in it. "I wish I could do something to change this future, but I can't. Anyway, since all your grandparents are gone now and neither Michael nor I nor any of them had siblings, there won't be anywhere for you to go. So I asked Mr. Roarke to raise you after we're gone. He seemed to me to be a very kind and capable man, and I know he'll take the best possible care of you. He'll see to it that you have the things you need, clothes and food and a roof over your head, and maybe some extras once in a while, and he'll make sure you go to good schools. And maybe he can even introduce you to some friends. The only reason I have any gratitude about this fire that's going to happen is that you'll at least be out from under Michael's perpetual anger and his verbal abuse of you girls. You might learn that not all men are like your father, Leslie. One day you'll find someone you love very much and want to marry, and since you'll have Mr. Roarke for a role model, you'll be able to trust in that man, whoever he might be." She stopped, and they heard voices in the background again. "I think the twins are coming back down. I'd better stop here—I don't want to scare them. Just be happy, Leslie. I know it won't be easy, but someday you will be, I promise." The twins' voices grew louder, and they heard Shannon call, "What are you two arguing about now?"

"She's trying to rip up my unicorns!" shouted Kristy's indignant voice, and Shannon unexpectedly burst out laughing before the tape went silent. Christian, grinning at the final exchange, turned to look at Leslie, whose expression was faraway.

"Are you all right, child?" Roarke asked gently.

She blinked and looked at him, nodding. "I'm fine," she said, regarding him. "Father, don't take this the wrong way…but, well, Mom seemed so confident in you, and I remember when I first came here, you scared me to death. You seemed as if you weren't too happy about being saddled with this stray orphan kid…"

Roarke smiled a little ruefully. "I always regretted leaving you with that impression, but to tell you the truth, we were strangers to each other, Leslie. I will readily admit to being somewhat uncertain about the sort of child I would be raising. I knew little about your family life, even from what we saw of those visions I showed your mother, and I found myself facing an unusual bout of trepidation. But during your first week here, I got your measure, as I believe the saying goes, and I knew we would get along fine. All that was needed was time, so that you could begin to heal, to make friends and to build a new life."

"You had a chance to leave an imprint on her too, Mr. Roarke," Christian put in. "Her mother was right about her having you for a role model."

Roarke smiled at him. "Perhaps so, Christian. Perhaps so. After all, she found you." Christian sheepishly rolled his eyes, and Leslie turned around in time to see him do it.

"Hey," she said, catching his attention. "Of all the people in the world, I'd think you could take a compliment a little more gracefully than that."

"Let's put it this way," Christian suggested with a half-smile in Roarke's direction. "I have about as much chance of taking compliments gracefully as I do of seeing your sister's unicorns. Does that tell you anything?" He caught the conspiratorial look Roarke and Leslie traded and groaned. "On second thought, never mind!"

‡ ‡ ‡

Christian was checking e-mail that evening at home; Leslie, having just loaded their dishwasher and gotten it running, came into their den—located upstairs off the bedroom, next to the bathroom—and stopped behind his chair, leaning down and wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. "Any news?" she asked.

He smiled, turned his head far enough to meet hers and kissed her. "The baby is fine, according to Gerhard, and Liselotta's English lessons are coming along quite nicely." They were in touch with Gerhard almost as often as with Anna-Kristina, and every message mentioned Christian's great-nephew, Matteus, now five months old. "Do you want to check your messages?"

"I will in a minute," Leslie said, "though I have a feeling if I hear from Michiko, she'll just focus entirely on Androno and Catalina, the way she always does." Christian laughed. Michiko had given birth to a daughter shortly before Christmas, and couldn't seem to talk about anything except her baby girl—unless it was her sister Reiko's son Androno, named after Errico's father. "Actually," Leslie continued, "I wanted to ask you something. I was in the middle of loading the dishwasher and it happened to occur to me. You never did tell me what you said to me on Wednesday, when I was right on the edge of insisting we get out of there because I didn't think I could face that vacant lot."

"Hm?" Christian murmured, frowning slightly as he searched his memory. "Oh—I see what you mean. Those words in jordiska that calmed you down. Frankly, my Rose, I was clutching at straws. I really wasn't sure it would work."

"Why not?" Leslie asked. "I don't get it."

Christian arose and turned to face her, holding her. "I should tell you a little story first. Last summer, just after Gerhard told us that Arnulf had died, I remembered seeing that initially, he was as distraught and shocked as the rest of the family. And yet the following morning, when we retreated to the castle to join the others in seclusion, he was very calm, very collected. I was caught in my own grief and all the violent emotion that came with it, but it still made an impression on me. I caught him one evening after dinner and asked him how he had been able to make it through the memorial and funeral without breaking down as most of the rest of us did, and he told me it was thanks to Liselotta. It was some little nonsense phrase that Liselotta had grown up with: apparently the Liljefors family has used it for centuries to calm their children. As the years passed it evolved into something that translates into English as 'I'll stop your tears, my little bird'. The original must have been soundalikes for the jordiska words. But that's what I said to you. Since it came from the Liljefors clan, with their powers, I didn't know whether those powers were required for the words to work. But they did, after all."

She regarded him, feeling that surge of love for him again, and it made her smile. "I think the only power you need is the power of love," she said. "I think that's what made it work for you. Thank you again, my love…you helped me so much."

"You're welcome, always, my darling, and I think you're right," Christian murmured, kissing her. "Since we're to forfeit our usual weekend because we were away, suppose you let me spend our evening showing how much I love you in another way." Their smiles dissolved into a long kiss.
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A/N: I should note that Susanville, California, is used purely fictitiously in this story, although it's a real place. Main and Weatherlow Streets and Richmond Road all actually exist, but Banner Street is my own creation. Next story, I'll be back to the regular fantasy format…and a final visit from someone who just refuses to go away!