§ § § -- October 18, 1993

Lukas peered at her in bewilderment for a moment, then actually shrugged. "All right, I will tell you, since now that I know who you are, I can expect an explanation for all of this. As I mentioned yesterday, the Liljefors family came here from Sweden toward the end of the 1600s, as exiles. They had tried to settle in one Swedish town after another, but they were chased out every time. Their powers gained them such ill repute that they finally had to leave the country altogether; knowledge of who and what they were had begun to precede them, and townspeople everywhere greeted them with insults and stones. So they came here and finally found a place to live unmolested. You must realize that this was in an era when everyone in the world believed in magic, particularly black magic."

Leslie nodded. "Of course. Go on, please."

"From the first, they were a strange lot," Lukas said slowly, his eyes losing focus as he searched his memory. "They kept mostly to themselves, but they tended to intermarry with the islanders. One of the oddest things about them was that they seemed to produce almost nothing but girls. Men who married into the family found themselves heavily outnumbered, and they often became the fathers exclusively of daughters. And once the marriages were performed, it was as if these husbands were absorbed into the family stronghold; they were rarely, if ever, seen again. The Liljefors clan was not wont to show its collective face to outsiders, and over time the islanders grew suspicious.

"Unfortunately, by the time their true provenance was discovered, there was nothing that could be done about it. The family had grown in such numbers that their powers were too strong for ordinary folk, and eventually people learned to avoid their property. Only the most intrepid would do business with them. They eked out a living on their land and were mostly self-sustaining, but they lived in abject poverty for centuries. They turned their castle into an inn during the mid-nineteenth century, and at first there was little trouble getting people to stay. Visitors to the island never realized they were being manipulated, and soon the family's status had elevated to at least comfort, if not wealth."

"Ah, they moved up a few tax brackets," Leslie said with gentle humor. Lukas smiled faintly in response, and she nodded to encourage him to continue.

"But word got around," Lukas said. "After a time it was impossible for them to get new customers without using their mind influence; those who knew made certain to stay far away from them. They still made a reasonable living, at any rate." He shrugged. "And so it continues to this day. What else do you wish to know?"

Leslie had jotted down the gist of his lengthy reply, which had provided answers to several of the questions on her list. She then turned to the first remaining unanswered one and looked up again. "You said your father experienced this power?"

Lukas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, looking pained. "Miss Hamilton—"

"Please call me Leslie," she broke in. "After all, I've been calling you Lukas."

"So you have." Lukas looked up and smiled, but it was a strained smile. "All right, Leslie. I beg you not to tell anyone else of this."

"I may have to tell my father," Leslie warned. "I have a hunch I'm working on, and if it plays out, I'm going to need his help."

Lukas nodded wearily. "Yes, but your father only. I must insist."

"You have my word," she said, meeting his narrow-eyed gaze squarely.

He studied her, then nodded slightly. "Well enough. My father fell in love with a Liljefors girl, some years before I was born. She was what you call the family black sheep, I believe. She hated the powers she had been born with and wanted only to live a normal life, away from her family and their influence. But the odds were against her and my father from the very beginning. The clan cannot read minds, Leslie, but they knew their Catarina all too well; and when she fell in love with her Kristofer—my father—it was a signal to them that she meant to break away.

"They met secretly, well away from the inn, but they were discovered nonetheless. By that time Catarina was expecting a child, and the family immediately prepared for a wedding, with the intention of pulling my father into the clan and shutting him away from the world as they had done with menfolk for centuries. But they didn't have the mental strength to control Catarina as they believed they did. She and Pappa drew up a plan between them: Catarina knew she alone could never escape the clan, and she didn't want Pappa trapped in that blackness forever. So she did the only thing she could do.

"When their daughter was born, she slipped out in the dead of night and met Pappa in secret with the baby. They both knew the child would have no chance of a normal life if she were raised on this island, even away from the Liljefors influence. Sooner or later she would be tracked down and taken back. So Catarina and my father agreed to send the baby to Sweden, where she would be placed with a normal family and have some chance at a decent and happy life."

Leslie's eyes were huge by this time; she had completely forgotten to take notes. "Oh my God," she breathed, feeling the excitement of discovery.

Lukas nodded, his gaze out of focus, seeing only what was in his mind's eye. "It nearly destroyed them both. Catarina renounced my father for his sake and melted back into the family. Since that day no one has seen her, and it's not known whether she's even still alive. My father mourned his lost daughter and the love he couldn't pursue, but he eventually married another woman—my mother. I have two younger sisters and a younger brother, and my father is happy with his family; but I know he hasn't forgotten our lost half-sister, even though he refuses to speak of her."

Leslie swallowed thickly and let Lukas' quiet words penetrate for some moments before she could bring herself to look at the list before her. Another question leaped out at her and she blinked. "Then…it was your half-sister you meant, when you said yesterday that only one person has ever escaped the clan's clutches."

Lukas nodded solemnly. "Exactly so. No one knows where she is."

"Did your father, or Catarina, name her before sending her away?" Leslie asked.

Lukas frowned. "If so, we were never told. Perhaps not; it might have seemed easier to them to give up the baby if they didn't name her." He sighed, looking curiously older than he had when he'd first sat down. "Sometimes we have thought to try to find her, but I think it would be futile. Some things should be left alone." This last he said deliberately, driving a meaningful gaze at Leslie. "You might heed that advice yourself."

"I don't know if I can," Leslie murmured, nervously drawing tiny circles in a corner of the paper before her. "You see…I think I knew your half-sister."

When Lukas didn't respond, she looked hesitantly up and found him staring at her, as if frozen in place, his face a mask of disbelief and shock. "How is this so?" he asked at last.

"I…it's kind of a long story, and it's a long way from ending just yet," she said with a deep, worn-out sigh. "Let me see if I can summarize it. When I was sixteen, an orphaned stowaway from Sweden arrived on Fantasy Island and hid in the home of my father's goddaughter. She was also sixteen years old; when Tattoo and I brought her to the main house, she told us that she had been adopted as a baby by a couple who apparently abused her as she was growing up. She explained to us that she had the power to make people think, or do, what she wanted them to; but it got her into so much trouble with her adoptive parents that she learned very early to suppress the ability and to present the façade of a regular, normal person. She had no one left on earth as far as she knew; she had been told her birth parents were dead, and she had no reason not to believe it. So Father agreed to let her live on the island till she was of age and could make her own decisions.

"There was a time when one of our friends exhibited a streak of racism, and it affected her in such a way that she lost control over her ability. It turned out she was able to telegraph emotions, as well as influencing others to do or think what she wanted. We all had a taste of what she was capable of, but after that she simply refused to speak of it at all, to anyone, including my father. She left the island three years after she'd arrived, with the intention of going to school in Stockholm so that she could become a fashion designer. We insisted she write to us, but we never heard from her. I don't know where she is now."

Lukas was actually trembling where he sat. "Those abilities you say this girl had—they are precisely those of the Liljefors clan." He leaned forward, anxiety and hope glittering from his eyes. "What was her name, Leslie?"

"Frida Olsson," Leslie said softly. "She and I developed a little bit of a bond when we first met, because my mother's mother was Swedish and Frida's presence brought back a lot of memories for me. She lived with Julie—my father's goddaughter—and helped Julie with her bed-and-breakfast operation when she wasn't in school, so we didn't see as much of her as we would have liked. Once we finished high school and most of my friends went on to college, we gradually lost touch. Then Frida left and dropped completely out of sight." Leslie pressed her fist against her mouth for a moment. "It's been nine years since I last saw her. There's been no word of her in all that time."

She and Lukas gazed at each other, both reflecting a whole parade of emotions at each other, each trying to fit the other's story with their own. Finally Lukas whispered in awe, "I think you're right. I believe this Frida Olsson is my lost half-sister." He sat up and slumped defeatedly back in his seat. "But what good is knowing her identity, if she cannot be found? Olsson is a very common surname in Sweden. The chances of finding her…"

"I know," Leslie agreed heavily. "That's why I need my father's help." She too sat back and stared into space, breathing deeply for a few seconds, gathering herself together. "I think I have all the information I need. I just wish I could do something…" She paused and gazed sadly at Lukas. "There's one small problem. Frida might not want to be found. I remember her telling us on her first day on Fantasy Island that she had no desire to find her birth parents. Her rationale was that, since they didn't want her when she was born, they wouldn't want her then, and for all I know she still feels that way. For heaven's sake, she thinks they're dead!"

"Her mother may very well be dead," Lukas said, "but her father certainly isn't. Leslie, this is too important—I think perhaps you should speak with him."

She frowned. "I don't know if that's the wisest thing to do just at the moment. It does seem like good news on the face of it; but as I said, we don't know where Frida is, and even my father will have a challenge to find her. Besides, it's all academic. No one can do anything unless Frida agrees to it. If she refuses, we have to respect that. And that's just what she did, from her first day with us. I think we're stuck where we are."

"We can't be," Lukas protested in anguish. "There must be something…" He propped both elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. "So near but so far."

"Don't tell your father, Lukas, please," Leslie entreated gently. "It would give him hope at a point where we can't promise him anything. Look, if you'll give me your full name and a way for us to contact you, then I'll notify you if we manage to untangle this mess."

Lukas looked up and nodded slowly. "Yes, perhaps that's best." He whipped a napkin from the holder on the table, borrowed Leslie's pen and printed his name, address and telephone number on it in tidy block letters. "Here. This is where you can reach me, and this is my father's name." He printed something else under the phone number, then handed Leslie the napkin and pen. "Please, at least promise me you'll speak with your father about this. If anyone can help us, it's Mr. Roarke, I'm sure."

"I am too," Leslie said and smiled, hoping to encourage him. "Don't give up all hope. If there's a way, and if we find it, you'll hear from us. I can promise you that much."

Lukas nodded and raked a hand through his hair. "How is it that you came to this conclusion? Did something happen at Liljefors Slott?"

Leslie nodded and explained what had happened when she checked out. "The girl, Anja…she seemed timid and her English wasn't too good. She all but fell to her knees begging me not to leave, and she even almost cried. Her emotions transferred themselves to me—and that's when I finally remembered the time Frida's emotions did the same thing. That's what made the connection for me. All I needed was your answers to my questions to solve the mystery of where Frida came from."

"Now if we can only find her…" Lukas murmured.

Leslie stood up. "We can try, but don't hold me to a promise. Don't expect to hear from me very soon. I'll contact you only if we succeed in locating her. If we don't, you won't hear anything—so don't wait for word from us. We've come a long way with this, but there's a long way yet to go." She withdrew three hundred-krona bills and pressed them into Lukas' hand, making him gasp.

"Leslie, this is far too much. Wait while I—" he began, leaping to his feet.

She shook her head. "No, don't bother. You were more help than I dared hope you could be, and that's the least I can do for all your assistance."

Lukas turned the bills over in his hands, sighed heavily and slid them into his pocket, then stepped toward her and grasped her hands in his. "You have given us more than we ever thought to receive, Leslie Hamilton, and we're in your debt—even if only I am aware of it." He smiled at her and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "I should be thanking you, and I do, believe me. Even if we never find her, we at least know what became of her."

She smiled. "Maybe we'll both find some answers in the end. Thank you for all your hospitality and help, Lukas. It's time I got home to Fantasy Island."