§ § § -- September 19, 1993
"Exhaustion, Mr. Roarke," said Dr. Kara Lambert, a four-year employee whose office was located in the hospital. Roarke had rushed Leslie there seconds after she'd fainted; now she was tucked in bed in a room facing the sunset, currently in progress, and had yet to awaken from her faint. Dr. Lambert had questioned Roarke for almost twenty minutes regarding his daughter's health, habits, work schedule, eating preferences, and other things. "Pure and simple, from what you've told me."
"She always refused to take a vacation," Roarke said, staring at Leslie lying in bed, quiet and pale-faced. "She so loves her job, she won't leave it, even temporarily."
"You'll have to talk her into taking some fairly extensive time off," Dr. Lambert said, following Roarke's gaze. There was an uncharacteristically helpless look in his dark eyes, and she was secretly a little unnerved by this. The entire island regarded Roarke as a rock of sorts; but even rocks erode over time, she thought sadly. "How long has she been your assistant now? Since her husband was killed?"
"Quite nearly," said Roarke. "It's been just over three years. And in all that time, she has never taken so much as a day to herself."
Dr. Lambert stared at him in amazement. "I've heard of things like that before, but I never heard of someone doing it out of love for the job. I mean, I love being a doctor, but I want to get away from it once in a while." She grinned to soften the statement.
Roarke smiled back. "Oh, I'm sure of that," he said. "But I have never seen anyone else who was, and is, as fascinated as Leslie with the business I am in. Never once has she complained of any task I have set for her, never has she shied away from any request I have made. Perhaps I have asked too much of her." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I should have known. I simply should have known…"
"Oh, all relatives say that," Dr. Lambert said comfortingly, "but how can they, when they're so close to the situation? She was happy, so you just accepted it and carried on with the business of your lives and livelihood. Something tells me you both probably thought this was a good sign, a way of healing from the loss of her husband."
"You have keen insight, doctor," Roarke commended her, studying her with interest. "I believe you're right. So…what, then, should I tell Leslie when she awakens?"
"Insist that she take at least a month off, and don't back down when she protests," Dr. Lambert advised. "If you need an assistant, then you should call in a substitute, whoever it might be. Maybe if you can arrange it with Mr. Tattoo…"
"Leslie would insist on spending her entire vacation right here on the island, in that case," Roarke said, chuckling. "She would never want to miss a visit from Tattoo. My goddaughter Julie is the only other person who has enough experience to step in; however, she is likely to protest quite loudly. She has no interest in being my assistant, even as a substitute."
"Who's substituting for whom?" murmured a weak voice from the bed, and both Dr. Lambert and Roarke turned to find Leslie awake, watching them. She returned Roarke's smile and then took in her surroundings, frowning in confusion. "Where am I?"
"In the hospital, Leslie," Roarke replied, settling on the edge of her bed and taking her limp hand in his. "You fainted in my study, and I brought you here. Dr. Lambert has diagnosed you with exhaustion; that is apparently the reason you've not been feeling well the past two days."
"Oh…holy cow," Leslie murmured, absorbing this with surprise. "There's something kind of surreal about the idea of me fainting." She and Roarke both chuckled, and Leslie's gaze shifted to Dr. Lambert. "So tell me, doc, am I gonna live?"
This time Dr. Lambert joined in their laughter. "No worries there," she said. "But there are a couple of conditions to your getting out of here…speaking of which, I need to get back to my office. I've got a couple of patients who should be in my waiting room right about now."
"Thank you, doctor," Roarke said, and Dr. Lambert smiled and left the room. He turned back to his daughter. "Well, young lady, it's my understanding that the only cure for your particular case of exhaustion is to take time off. At least a month."
Leslie's eyes popped. "A month!" she blurted. "But Father…who on earth would help you out? Julie won't do it for the world."
"Oh, she might, if she understood the circumstances," Roarke said. "That aside, the fact remains that you've worked nonstop for three years now. It's commendable indeed that you love your job and are so dedicated to it—but not at the cost of your health. If you argue with me, Leslie, I might have to fire you." He smiled to indicate he was teasing her, then grew serious again. "You are definitely going to take a vacation, and furthermore, you'll do it off the island."
"But…where?" Leslie protested helplessly. "I can't imagine a better place than here for a vacation. What on earth would I do?"
"I might remind you," Roarke said, "that you have a friend on a Mediterranean island whom you haven't seen in some two years now; and you might consider accepting the invitation Tattoo and Solange extended to you so long ago and pay them a visit in Paris. And I am sure there are other locales that hold some interest for you."
Leslie thought about this and slowly smiled. "That's a good start," she agreed. "Maybe a week on Arcolos and another week with Tattoo and Solange. But if you're really going to insist on a month, that still leaves two open weeks."
"Must I make all your choices for you?" Roarke asked with mock exasperation. "Perhaps if I leave you here alone to contemplate the idea, you'll come up with some suggestions of your own. In any case, it's time I returned to the main house as it is. Mariki and the rest of the kitchen staff have no idea what happened, as I rushed you here without stopping to inform anyone."
"Can't I go home with you?" Leslie asked. "I don't want to stay here overnight."
"That's not my decision to make, Leslie, I am sorry," Roarke said gently. "But if it would make you feel better, I'll look into it for you."
"Please do," she said, glancing around the room and shivering. "This reminds me too much of the time Tattoo had his car accident and almost died here."
Roarke sobered, his own memory of that time triggered as well. "I understand, child," he said quietly and smoothed her hair before rising. "Let me see if I can locate someone who has the authority to release you, if he or she feels it's allowable."
It took a good fifteen minutes before Roarke was able to find someone who had enough time between rounds to check Leslie over. "If it were me, I'd keep you here, Miss Leslie," Robin—the same nurse whom both Leslie and Roarke remembered treating Tattoo ten years before—remarked. "But you're Dr. Lambert's patient, so she really has the final say. She's with another patient at the moment, but I'll pass on your request to her."
Stymied and frustrated, Leslie gave Roarke a pleading look, but he lifted his hands and shook his head. "I have no say in this, Leslie, as you well know," he said.
"Robin, how long will Dr. Lambert be?" Leslie persisted.
"Geez, you make a terrible patient," Robin bantered, and Leslie made a face. "Okay, okay, I'll see what I can do, but try to have a little patience."
It was another half hour before Roarke, who had left for the evening meal despite his daughter's protests, came back to find Dr. Lambert giving Leslie a careful examination. Leslie smiled at her father when he entered the room but didn't speak for a moment, waiting for the verdict from Dr. Lambert.
"Well," the doctor said finally, "you seem in good spirits, and you don't look much the worse for wear. But—" She eyed Leslie sternly. "If I discharge you, it's strictly on the stipulation that you do not go with Mr. Roarke tomorrow morning to see the guests off."
Leslie's lower jaw sank and her face took on an outraged look. "But doctor—!"
"Take it or leave it," Dr. Lambert broke in implacably. "That's my final offer, and if you really want to go home tonight, you'll take it."
"All I'm doing is standing beside Father saying goodbye to people!" Leslie exclaimed, her disbelief eclipsing her common sense. "Honestly, it's not the least bit strenuous. I'll do anything else you say—I'll go to bed the moment I get home, I'll sleep all night, I'll go right back to bed the second the plane takes off and we get back home again—but please don't forbid me that. It's hardly anything."
Dr. Lambert stared at her, expression rigid, then turned to Roarke. "Is she right?"
Roarke smiled as though in apology. "Although I tend to agree with you, doctor, she is correct. Very little happens while we are bidding farewell to our guests."
Dr. Lambert considered this while Roarke watched impassively and Leslie waited with rising hope. "You know, this is totally contrary to my better judgment. You had the complexion of a ghost when Mr. Roarke brought you in here, Miss Leslie, just so you know. I don't like the idea even of you getting out of this bed just to go home to your own." She rolled her eyes when Leslie geared up to protest again. "Pipe down already. All right—you can help Mr. Roarke see the guests off. But as you said—to bed the minute you get home tonight; and the minute you return from the plane dock tomorrow morning, back to bed again. I want you resting for at least the next five days, and in the meantime you can think about where you're going on vacation once you've regained enough equilibrium to travel." She turned to Roarke. "I'm going to give you a recommended menu for your cook so she can serve Leslie the most nutritious meals possible to help speed up her recovery. Tuesday Leslie can get up and move around, but she's expressly forbidden to do anything connected with her job." Again she shifted her attention to Leslie. "Use the time to sit on the porch and people-watch; read some good books; call your friends and have them over to lunch. But you make no business calls, you run no errands, you don't go anywhere at all. You're going to be a lazy vegetable for about five days. While you're lounging around, like I said, make some travel plans and start reserving seats on flights, things like that. Understand?"
"Understood," Leslie said, willing to obey any orders given her as long as she had her way about seeing the guests off. "We can consider my vacation as beginning tomorrow after the plane's gone, I guess."
"Heck no!" Dr. Lambert blared out immediately, startling both her and Roarke. "Your vacation starts when you get on a plane off this island and away to somewhere else—not before then. First you have that enforced rest, then you take a vacation. I think Mr. Roarke will agree that he can manage without you for awhile, and when he explains things to Julie, I think she'll understand too. You are to stay abroad, and away from Fantasy Island, for at least four solid weeks—more if Mr. Roarke thinks he can spare you. And from now on, you take time off at least once a year, at least two weeks at a time."
"I suppose I have to leave the island for those vacations too," Leslie said.
"Not necessarily," Dr. Lambert replied. "This is a special case because you've pushed yourself so hard for so long. Quit thinking so far ahead, Miss Leslie, and just concentrate on planning your trip to wherever. Now before you drive me straight to the nut house, get out of here and go on home. Your clothes are on that chair over there." She sighed deeply, rolled her eyes once more and strode out of the room. Chuckling with great amusement, Roarke followed her to give Leslie privacy to change.
§ § § -- September 21, 1993
"Well," Leslie mused, poring over the travel brochures Roarke had picked up for her on his way back from Julie's B&B, "Australia sounds really interesting. Or maybe I should visit Mexico. I hear Cancún's beautiful—and I could spend my time there just lying on a beach and resting the way Dr. Lambert's so obsessed about."
Roarke laughed. "With your fair skin, Leslie Susan, I suspect you'd find yourself heavily sunburned in no time at all. I don't believe that Dr. Lambert meant the only thing you should do is lie around. The idea here is to give yourself a break from working."
"Why don't you ever take a vacation, Father?" Leslie asked, turning a truly curious look on him. "You never seem to get tired, but I can't imagine you going on forever and ever without giving yourself a break. And I don't think our traditional New Year's weekends off really count. Am I breaching some boundary in asking how long it's been since you were anywhere in the world besides Fantasy Island?"
"Yes, you are," said Roarke and grinned tolerantly at her. "My dear Leslie, we are not discussing me, and you know it. If you find it so difficult to arrive at a decision about where to spend your time besides Arcolos and Paris, perhaps you should consult your friends."
"Not a bad idea at all," Leslie agreed. "I'm glad you thought of that." She pulled the phone towards her and proceeded to invite Lauren, Maureen, Tabitha and Myeko to lunch. But Leslie's friends threw out so many suggestions that she had a difficult time wading through them all, and found herself on the phone with the travel agency over the next day or two getting prices for flights to one place or another. On Thursday the 23rd, she returned in a jeep with another batch of travel brochures, hopped out and made her way into the house, already perusing the topmost one. By now Roarke had noticed that she was eyeing African safaris and train tours of India.
"Perhaps," he suggested as she sat down, "you should close your eyes and choose a brochure at random; and whatever country that brochure touts, you will visit."
She looked up at him, trying to decide how serious he was; he wore a perfect poker face, and she frowned. "Am I being that indecisive?"
"More than you know, my child," Roarke said with the faintest trace of a smile. "Leslie, this was supposed to relax you, not tie you up in figurative knots. Think of a place you've always wanted to visit and have never yet had the chance to. Isn't there something that falls into that category?"
Leslie considered this, staring into space, the new brochures forgotten. Then something seemed to occur to her and she frowned slightly, her expression going thoughtful and interested. "You know, maybe there is a place like that," she murmured. She focused on Roarke. "Remember when you and I were looking for a way out of Prince Errico's insistence that I marry him? You found something about how the princess of Lilla Jordsö turned him down due to her being an only child, and I remembered that my grandmother had visited that island as a child. That would be a wonderful place to go. It's different, it's out-of-the-way, and it holds a certain interest for me. I think I just made my decision!"
Roarke sat back in his chair and smiled. "Well, then, what are you waiting for? You'd do well to begin arranging your flights and your lodgings immediately, if you are to leave on Saturday as Dr. Lambert recommended."