§ § § -- January 29, 1994

Within five minutes of Roarke and Leslie's return to the main house, Frida Olsson arrived, and she and Leslie greeted each other with a quick hug. "Welcome back!" Leslie said happily. "You look fabulous. Have you seen Julie yet?"

"We are staying in her bed-and-breakfast," Frida told her. She still had a strong Swedish accent, but her English had improved quite a bit. "Klaus is very tired from the trip, so I told him he should take a nap. It was a good time for me to get away and come to see you. So…" She glanced back and forth between them. "Hello, Mr. Roarke. It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Frida," Roarke replied with a warm smile. "Will you sit down?"

Frida and Leslie each took a chair and Roarke resumed his own seat behind the desk. "It looks as if you are Mr. Roarke's assistant now," Frida said questioningly to Leslie.

"I am," Leslie said, nodding and going on to quickly summarize the string of assistants Roarke had dealt with, her marriage and later widowhood, and her return to the island and subsequent appointment as assistant. "And what about you? We begged you to write before you left here, but we never heard from you. Were you really that busy?"

Frida nodded, looking abashed. "Yes, I really was. School is free, but my apartment and other things took so much money that I had to work two jobs in order to pay for it. I truly wanted to write, but I never had enough time to stop and make a proper letter. I had to go to university first, and then I had to go on to a special school for those who wish to become artists, to learn to draw better so that my designs could be very clear and easy to turn into clothing. This is my last year now, but I have already begun working at a Stockholm clothier. I think they like my designs, but my dream to create my own line must wait for a time."

"But you're definitely on your way," Leslie said. "That's really great, Frida."

"I met Klaus about two years ago," Frida said, turning pink but smiling. "He is a botanist, and his favorite thing is to discover new plants he has never seen before. You must have seen him looking at everything when we arrived." Roarke and Leslie laughed softly in acknowledgement. "He's a wonderful and kind and caring man…two years older than I…his family is sweet and his sister is just my age and a good friend. Then he asked me to marry him, and I realized I couldn't answer him before I found out who I really am. If I don't get those answers, I will feel that poor Klaus is marrying a stranger from nowhere."

Roarke nodded contemplatively. "I understand. Well, as it happens, we have the answers you have been hoping to find, due entirely to extraordinary good fortune on Leslie's part." He turned to his daughter, picking up the folder she had earlier left on his desk and handing it to her. "Perhaps you would prefer to do the honors."

Leslie nodded agreement and accepted the folder, while Frida turned her large blue eyes on her and waited tensely. Leslie looked up, met Frida's anxious gaze and smiled in the hope of reassuring her. "First of all, you're not a native of Sweden. Your birthplace is the island of Lilla Jordsö; and you were born Frida Liljefors."

Frida sat looking stunned, taking this in for a moment, silently moving her lips as she repeated the surname without speaking. "An unusual name," she finally said.

Leslie nodded. "You come from an unusual family," she said. "The Liljefors clan is responsible for your mental powers—they're your mother's family." She opened the folder and withdrew a sheet of paper that she handed to Frida. "This is a copy of your birth certificate, which Father obtained from city hall in Lilla Jordsö's capital city, Sundborg."

Frida took the paper and stared at it, trembling just noticeably. "So I am Frida Liljefors," she murmured, mostly to herself, trying on a new identity. After a moment, still gazing at the page, she asked, "There is more, isn't there?"

Leslie nodded again. "Your father's name is Kristofer Dannegård; and you have two half-brothers and two half-sisters. I visited Lilla Jordsö briefly last fall, and by chance I met one of your half-brothers. It's a long story, and I think it's better you hear it from them."

Frida's head came up with a jerk. "They are here?"

"Yes, indeed they are," Roarke told her. "They arrived on last evening's charter and are staying in our largest bungalow, the Plumeria Bungalow. They are quite eager to meet you, particularly Mr. Dannegård—your father. It's my understanding that he grieved over your loss for many years, and has always wondered what became of you."

Frida stared at him, at a loss for words; her eyes grew shiny with tears and her trembling became violent enough to be visible at only a glance. Roarke, sympathetic, leaned forward across the desk and asked very gently, "Would you like to see them now?"

Frida nodded so hard the tears were jarred loose from her eyes, and she drew in a deep breath before swallowing. "You brought me a miracle," she whispered. "I…I can never thank you enough for doing this for me."

"We're glad to help," Leslie said softly, feeling that her words were utterly banal, but unsure of what might be appropriate. "They're waiting at their bungalow; we can take you there now if you like."

"Please," Frida said on a shaky exhalation. Roarke looked at Leslie, whose return glance carried at least a dozen volatile emotions, and arose from his chair. Both young women followed his cue and went out with him to the car.

The drive to the Plumeria Bungalow took perhaps five minutes, but by the time they got there Frida had deteriorated into a walking bale of nerves. Leslie stared worriedly at her as they all got out of the car and slowly approached the door. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Frida?" she asked.

Frida turned to her with appeal in her expressive blue eyes. "I must do this at some time," she said, logical even through the shaking of her voice. "To wait will be no good, I will still be nervous. It's better to do it now."

"Then by all means…" prompted Roarke, and cupped a hand lightly under her elbow in escort as they climbed the three steps onto the small front porch of the bungalow. He knocked on the door, and Frida drew in an audible breath and held it before ducking behind a surprised, and slightly amused, Roarke.

The door opened enough to reveal Lukas Dannegård, who for some reason noticed Leslie first. "Leslie," he said, brightening. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," Leslie said and returned his smile.

Lukas let his gaze linger on her a moment more before turning his attention to Roarke. "Hello, Mr. Roarke. Thank you again for these charming accommodations."

"You're very welcome, and I am gratified to know you're pleased," Roarke answered graciously. Then his dark eyes warmed and a faint, mysterious smile appeared on his handsome features. "There is someone here who would like to meet you."

His cue produced no results, and Lukas' questioning gaze darted back and forth between his hosts. Leslie looked behind Roarke and nodded, but still nothing happened; so she finally reached out and gently drew Frida out from behind Roarke.

Lukas stared at Frida, who hesitantly met his astonished eyes. After a moment he breathed, "So you are my half-sister!"

"So I am told," said Frida weakly, smiling a little.

"My name is Lukas Dannegård, and I am the oldest in our family…well, except for you, that is." Lukas stepped fully out the door and grasped Frida's hands in his, still gaping at her. "Pappa will be overwhelmed. You really must come in…"

Frida blinked, stricken speechless all over again, and Roarke stepped back, reaching for Leslie and ushering her quietly off the porch toward the car. Neither Lukas nor Frida noticed their departure; both were too busy staring at each other.

Finally Lukas shook himself back to reality and spoke. "Come, Frida, please." He more or less towed her through the door, closed it behind them and led her down five steps into a large main room furnished in quiet but comfortable good taste. There were two sets of frosted-glass doors at the back of the room; one door stood open, while its companion and the other set of doors were closed. There was one occupant in the room: a gray-haired man whose gaze was fixed on Frida as though super-glued there for all eternity. Frida stopped dead at the foot of the steps and stared back at him, her heartbeat doubling instantly and her eyes widening.

Lukas saw it and smiled. "Frida, this is Kristofer Dannegård—our father."

As if the words had pushed some button, Kristofer Dannegård slowly stood up and crossed the room towards Frida, stopping halfway and staring some more. Finally he said in awe, "You are the image of your mother…" Frida blinked at him, eyes growing even bigger somehow and filling with tears all over again. Seeing this, Kristofer moved toward her a bit hesitantly, holding out his arms to her. Frida burst into tears and fell into his embrace.

Father and daughter stood clinging to each other, both crying; neither saw Lukas melt away through the open glass door and close it silently behind him. After several minutes, Kristofer and Frida stepped back and studied each other some more before Frida finally swiped helplessly at her wet cheeks and said, "I'm so happy to meet you at last!"

"I've waited long years for this to happen," Kristofer said, hands on her arms, his face lit by an enormous smile. "I wished for it, but never let myself believe it would. Your name is Frida?" She nodded. "Please, tell me about your childhood. Come and sit here beside me, and tell me what I missed for so long."

"You didn't give me my name?" Frida asked, letting him lead her toward the sofa where he had been sitting before.

"No," Kristofer said, sitting beside her. "No, we thought it was best to let your adoptive parents do that, so that it would be more difficult for the clan to try to trace you. But oh, how we grieved." He stared into space, lost in memories, and Frida found herself desperate to know how she had come to be.

"Tell me," she begged. "I want to know who I am and who my family is."

Kristofer focused on her and wrapped one of her hands in his, as if trying to convince himself she was really there in front of him. "It began many years ago…I was twenty-eight and had been a very stubborn bachelor for long enough to make my parents despair of me. Then there came a day when I walked the roads north of Sundborg and passed a place called Liljefors Slott; and out front, tending to the rosebushes there, was the loveliest girl I had ever seen. She had gleaming golden hair and blue eyes that revealed everything she felt; and when she turned and saw me, she smiled at me. It made me feel like the most attractive man on earth.

"She was only twenty-one and her name was Catarina—Catarina Liljefors. I knew about the family, but one look at Catarina and I simply didn't care. I fell in love instantly, and she told me later that she did as well. I knew we must be together. I wouldn't hear of anything else. My parents were horrified when they learned of it, and her family was less than happy about it also. My mother and father were convinced that she had influenced me to feel as I did toward her, but I felt that way all the time, even when she wasn't around. That's how I knew it was true and lasting love, and nothing would do but that Catarina should be my wife.

"But I didn't count on the strength of the Liljefors clan. At first they tried to separate us, but my Catta defied them time and time again. We met in secret every night and made grand plans for our lives together. I only wish we had been clearheaded enough to give those plans serious attention. We were so in love that we spun romantic dreams of our future and never really laid a foundation for them. Before we knew it, Catta was expecting my child, and that changed everything.

"The clan found out, and one evening Catta came to me and told me that they were making plans for a wedding. I was ecstatic, but she was so upset that it affected me and I felt helpless and trapped." Kristofer closed his eyes with the memory; Frida, for her part, had a stomach so jammed with butterflies that they were inducing faint nausea. "Catta's emotion washed through me, made me feel frightened and hunted, and I could do nothing but listen. Bless her, she saw what was happening and immediately cried out that she could never go on forcing her emotions on me."

"You should have left her!" Frida exploded before she thought.

Kristofer turned to her and shook his head earnestly, gripping her shoulders. "Nej, nej, you don't understand, my little one. Catta hated the powers she had inherited. All her life she wished for nothing more than to be a simple, normal human just as I was. She did all she could to control her emotions. But when we were together she couldn't help but project warmth and happiness, and I could feel her love just as I felt my own. Don't blame Catta, Frida—she was your mother. The child she gave birth to was you.

"She met me the night after your birth, in secret, in a forest far away from both the city and her family's inn. The only time I ever saw you, our daughter, you were sound asleep in Catta's arms, so tiny and innocent, so beautiful. But we knew the clan would never let you live in the peace and harmony that Catta had always craved. And we also knew that they would never let her go, nor let me take her. Their grip was just too strong. Catta felt it was too late for her to live a normal life, but you had a chance, and she was determined to see that you got that chance.

"She wanted to give you to me and my family to raise, but we both knew that wasn't possible either. The clan would track you down and take you back, and for a certainty I would never see either you or Catta again. We made the most painful decision of our lives and agreed to send you to Sweden, where you could be adopted and have a chance at a quiet, normal life as a normal child.

"Catta told me then that she would never be able to see me again: she said it was for my own protection. She refused to let her family get its relentless grip on me, and she didn't have the strength to escape them. She told me to go on with my life and find another woman; and since that night, I have never seen her. I don't know what happened to her."

"Is she alive?" Frida asked, afraid of the answer.

Kristofer reached out and laid a gentle hand on her cheek. "I don't even know that, my little one. Nothing was ever said of her. I dared not go back to Liljefors Slott after that. It was always my fear that the family locked Catta away forever, as punishment for her defiance of them, and perhaps she perished under such treatment. I don't know. I suspect Catta would have preferred death to that kind of existence."

Frida processed it all in a stunned silence, trying to come to terms with the light being so rapidly shed on her origins, to fit it in with her sense of self. At last she looked up at this man who was her father and asked, "Did you go on, as she wanted you to do?"

Kristofer sighed deeply. "Inasmuch as my parents pushed me to it, yes. I had no interest in life; the woman I loved was lost to me, and so was our child. They had no trouble marrying me off to a lady of their choice. Ebba was a sweet and pretty girl, but she never inspired in me the feelings that Catta had. Still…I resigned myself, grew to enjoy her company and to feel comfortable with her, and we had four children. Lukas was born two years after I lost you and your mother; then we had Brita, Jannike and Gunnar. Ebba died when Gunnar was six years old; Lukas was thirteen, Brita ten and Jannike nearly eight. When I met Ebba, she was running a small café, and after her death we felt it was only right to continue operating it in her memory. We renamed it Ebba's Café. And that, my little one, is where Mr. Roarke's daughter found Lukas and opened the doors that brought you back to us." He gazed at her for a moment, then shook his head, smiling. "You look exactly as I remember Catta looking the day I first saw her. It's a miracle." His gaze shifted and became that of anticipation. "Tell me of your childhood, Frida, will you?"

Frida took a deep breath. "It wasn't so peaceful as you and my mother wished for it to be. You see…I inherited those mental powers you say she so hated." Kristofer winced in sympathy, as if he knew what must be coming. "I didn't know how to control them, and the people who adopted me didn't understand at all. My abilities made them very angry, and they punished me severely when I used them, even accidentally. I learned very early on to keep to myself and to control my emotions very carefully.

"The couple who took me in were named Elof and Hedda Olsson. They had never been able to have their own children and wanted a baby quite badly; but when they realized I had those powers, they reacted very violently. I think they wished they could send me back where they got me. They hit me when they thought I misbehaved, and when I slipped and used my mental powers, they locked me in my room—once for an entire week."

Kristofer looked horrified. "They abused you?"

Frida nodded. "Yes. Moreover, they were both very heavy smokers; Elof especially was a chain-smoker, but Hedda was nearly as formidable. Together they went through a total of ten packs of cigarettes every day. Sometimes I can't believe they lived as long as they did. When they lit up, I would leave the room and try to stay away from them; the smell always made me very ill. In any case, they both developed lung cancer, but neither of them would quit smoking. Perhaps in a way that was better for me. When I was sixteen, they both died, within two months of each other."

Kristofer shook his head slightly. "A travesty. I, uh…I notice you call them Elof and Hedda. Why?"

"They made it plain to me from the time I could speak that I was not their true child and they had taken me in out of the alleged goodness of their hearts. When I was finally old enough to understand what this meant, I stopped calling them mother and father and never addressed them directly by any kind of name. I deliberately thought of them as Elof and Hedda. It made me feel less…connected to them, I suppose."

Kristofer nodded. "That's understandable. So, what did you do after they died?"

"I sold everything I could, kept my most treasured belongings and bought plane tickets. You see, when it was plain they were going to die, I began to think about what was going to happen to me. One day I passed a travel agency in town, and in the window were some brochures that talked about Fantasy Island. I went inside and took one, and I studied it for days before I decided my only chance might be there." She went on to tell him about her flight from Sweden and how she'd been forced to stow away once she'd reached Los Angeles and discovered she had run out of money; how she'd used her powers to obtain a pass for the Fantasy Island charter plane; and the story of her discovery in Julie MacNabb's B&B and her subsequent years on the island. Kristofer listened intently, looking relieved to know that she'd escaped the Olssons and, on Fantasy Island, managed at last to find some semblance of the normal life that he and Catarina Liljefors had hoped she would have.

Unbeknownst to either of them, four pairs of ears were tuned to their conversation; the Dannegård siblings stood in a huddled knot beside the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, and listened. Lukas alone felt sympathy for his new sister; his siblings were not nearly as charitable. Gunnar scowled in annoyance; Jannike and Brita glared at Frida with clear hatred. It took a few minutes for Lukas to see their reactions; when he did, he quietly closed the door and faced them down. "So you haven't even formally met Frida yet, and already you've decided to pass judgment on her," he said, disgusted.

"She's going to tear this family apart," Gunnar said flatly.

Brita put in, "Didn't you see the look on Pappa's face when he was talking about that Liljefors woman? That whole family is made up of witches, don't you know that, Lukas? And one of them put Pappa under her spell. Now we have a witch for a half-sister!"

Lukas eyed her and drawled sardonically, "I assume you know what century this is." Brita got his meaning and reddened, but refused to back down from her stance. Gritting his teeth, he looked at Jannike. "So what poisonous remarks do you have to make?"

"Frida's going to be Pappa's favorite," Jannike said sourly. "Not only does she remind him of her mother, she's incredibly beautiful. You can see at a glance that she's a Liljefors—she has their golden hair and blue eyes and model's face."

"Then you're merely jealous," Lukas said, and Jannike rolled her eyes.

"To hell with that," exploded Gunnar. "It makes no difference how pretty she is. The fact is, she looks like her mother—the love of Pappa's life. Now that he's met his daughter by that Liljefors woman, he'll want to find out what happened to his precious Catta. And if he does, he'll completely forget poor Mamma! You heard him say he never loved Mamma as he did that woman!"

"I hope her mother's dead," Brita snapped.

Lukas barely restrained himself from slapping his sister's face. "I never knew you to be so cruel and bitter, Brita," he said, enraged. "The three of you amaze me, and you make me ashamed to call you my siblings. It's a shame that you've all forgotten common human decency in the face of your anger and petty jealousy!"

"Just whose side are you on, Lukas Dannegård?" Jannike demanded.

Lukas closed his eyes and shook his head. "I've always been on Pappa's side, if you really find it necessary to ask. I think a wish he's had all these years has finally been fulfilled, and I believe he feels his family is complete at last. He's happy; I can see it in his eyes. But I suppose that doesn't matter to you three. As long as Brita, Jannike and Gunnar are happy, it doesn't matter who else is miserable—even your father, whom you supposedly love." He didn't wait for their responses; he turned and left the room, unable to withstand the force of their hatred and resentment any longer.

Kristofer and Frida both looked up when he entered, and they both smiled, Frida a little shyly. "Where are your brother and sisters?" Kristofer asked.

Lukas heaved a sigh. "They're not quite ready to meet you yet, Frida," he said with a weak smile of apology. "Perhaps later on…" It may have to be on neutral ground, he thought with dread. I sense a war in the making, and if I'm right, then Gunnar's prediction that this family will be torn apart may very well come true!