§ § § -- January 29, 1994

"Oh my God…we're really here." April, lying more than sitting in her seat due to its position facing straight up in the space capsule, stared at the cockpit around her with wide excited eyes. "After all the junk we went through, we're really, truly going up. I know this is a cliché and all, but would one of you kindly pinch me?"

"You'd never feel it through the spacesuit," Kirsten told her cheerfully. "But never fear, it's no dream." She snickered. "Just a fantasy." The little joke brought nervous giggles from all three girls, just as they heard the countdown begin over the communicators in their helmets. Kirsten stuck out her right hand, April her left; Laura, in a seat just behind and between them, grabbed theirs in both of hers.

"Brace yourselves—don't forget the G forces," Kirsten said.

"Thank God I survived the Vomit Comet," Laura mumbled nervously.

"Here we go!" April blurted, squeezing Laura's hand hard.

Their rocket blasted off its launch pad into the late-afternoon sun; smoke from the gargantuan rocket engines billowed up and surrounded them almost instantly, blocking out all the light. The three friends had no idea how fast they were climbing; they could only endure the crushing gravitational force that plastered them into their seats and rendered them essentially immobile.

After what felt like weeks, the pressure gradually eased and the three were able to breathe more easily. The smoke had long since cleared and they'd tried to see out the windows, but their positions had precluded this, and the gravity had prevented them from trying to sit up and get a better look. Now they could see stars and a faint shading of indigo to flat black, and April determinedly pushed herself up against the persistent force of the rising capsule in order to see the view. Her gasp made Kirsten struggle to get a look out her own window. "What is it?" Laura exclaimed.

"I wish you could see this!" April cried, awed. "I see Earth curving a little bit, and hundreds of miles of Pacific Ocean…"

"I see a hurricane!" yelled Kirsten incredulously. "You should just see this thing, it's huge! I can see the eye and everything! This is incredible!"

"No kidding!" April burst out. "I hope I get to see it!"

"I hope I get to see anything!" Laura broke in, twisting her head this way and that, trying to locate a window somewhere else in the craft so that she too could view the wonders her friends were exclaiming over. "Can either of you see the moon anywhere?"

That sent Kirsten and April into paroxysms, contorting themselves into nearly impossible positions in an attempt to locate the moon, but neither was successful. "Not yet," Kirsten reported finally. "I guess we're still too close to Earth."

"Oh no!" April moaned suddenly. "I can't believe how stupid I am!"

"Why?" Laura asked.

"I forgot my camera!" April wailed. "How'll I ever prove to my insufferable brothers that I was really up here and saw all this amazing stuff?"

"No problemo, compadre," Kirsten teased. "Lucky for you, I didn't forget my camera. I promise I'll take a picture of you standing on the moon."

"Lifesaver," April said gratefully. "Do me a favor and get a shot of that hurricane too. Or actually, typhoon—that's what they call 'em in the Pacific, if I have my terminology right. When we get back to Fantasy Island, we'll check the weather reports, find out what its name is, and then we can have the picture blown up into a poster, make copies for each of us and frame them, and hang them in our living rooms."

"And every time someone comes over and asks about it, we'll get to tell about our fantasy trip to the moon, right?" Kirsten said, laughing.

"That's the idea!" April agreed gleefully.

Laura protested, "It's January! How can there be a typhoon in January?"

"Simple, silly. It's in the southern hemisphere, where they're having summer right now," Kirsten explained. "I can see something that looks like New Zealand some ways south of the storm, so it's definitely south of the equator."

"I wish I could see the thing," April said, chafing impatiently against the persistent force of gravity that still mostly held them in their seats. "I wish this whole thing was made of transparent aluminum like they have in Star Trek. It's killing me not to be able to see all the stuff you do. You have a better view of Earth than I do—all I see is the planetary curve. Besides, the sun's shining through my window and blinding me."

"Patience, patience," Kirsten advised. "Or would you rather get out and do a space walk—particularly now while we're still trying to escape the earth's gravity well?"

April smirked at her. "Strawberry jam," she said. "I'd turn into a comet tail of strawberry jam if I popped out the hatch now."

"Eeeeeeewwwwwww," Laura moaned. "Don't give me grotesque images like that!"

"Oh, sorry," said April cheerfully, but winked at Kirsten, who had to turn her head back toward the window to hide her amusement. April giggled deliriously and pushed against her seat once more, trying to see something past Kirsten out her window.

Within another hour or so they were free of earthly gravity and had decided to take off their helmets and apply their weightlessness training. Even Laura, encouraged by her success in holding down the contents of her stomach on the Vomit Comet, was floating around the cabin in imitation of her deliriously laughing best friends. All of a sudden they heard a beeping noise, looked at one another in amazement and then around the cabin for the source of the sound. "Must be Ground Control," April finally offered, peering across the control panel.

"Where's the blasted vidscreen?" Kirsten demanded.

"Look," Laura said, pointing between them at a spot toward the "ceiling", in a central location. "And hey, it's not Ground Control at all!"

Kirsten and April followed the direction her finger indicated, and found themselves staring at none other than their enigmatic host. "Mr. Roarke!" Kirsten blurted.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Roarke said, smiling. "How goes the mission so far?"

All three tried to answer him at once, relating enthusiastic stories of their training and what they could see from their capsule, making Roarke laugh. They stopped and looked sheepishly at one another. "You tell him, Kirsten. You've seen the most," April said.

"So far, so great," Kirsten told Roarke eagerly. "It's just that everything's happening so fast. The training took only a few hours, and already we're almost halfway between Earth and the moon."

"That's because it's all a fantasy, right, Mr. Roarke?" April put in. "After all, we have only this weekend to do all this in, and our fantasy involves going to the moon—so we have to do it all on an accelerated schedule."

"Simplistic, but correct," Roarke said. "But you must remember, ladies—fantasy or not, you are not in a simulator: you are in outer space, for real. I can do nothing to bring you back until your fantasy reaches its natural conclusion. Until then, you are entirely on your own. Don't forget the things you learned in training. They are extremely important to your safety. And Ground Control is always in touch if an emergency arises."

"Don't worry, Mr. Roarke, we'll be fine," Kirsten said confidently.

"Mr. Roarke?" Laura called from behind them. "What'd the astronauts do when being weightless in real live outer space made them airsick?"

Instantly Kirsten and April twisted around to stare at her; in the gravity-less cabin, they both overcompensated and found themselves rotating rather like an ice skater in a spin. "Drat it," April yelled, managing to catch herself on a bulkhead and halt her uncontrolled movements. Fortunately she was facing Laura, who had visibly turned an alarming shade of green. "Laura, for crying out loud…go find the head already! Kirsten, stop that spinning and ask Mr. Roarke where the head is!"

"I'm trying!" Kirsten yelped and seized the back of her seat, clinging to it like a barnacle and looking up at the now-blank video screen. "Aw, man…he's gone!"

Laura's eyes widened and she let out a whimper, clapping both hands to her mouth. Desperately April launched herself off the bulkhead, collided with Laura and propelled her ahead of her toward the back of the cabin. "There's the head, all the way in back. Hold it down till you get in there, all right?"

"Geeeeez," Kirsten groaned and snagged her helmet out of thin air as it drifted past, yanking it back on and squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as they'd go. "Just what we need. Somebody do me a favor and tell me when she's done."

"Why, what's your problem?" April yelled from the other end of the capsule, then paused and rolled her eyes. "Oh no."

"You got it," Kirsten said grimly. "Just make sure she cleans up in there."

"I don't get this," April protested. "It's our fantasy! It's supposed to go exactly the way we want it to!"

"That doesn't stop us from having to go to the bathroom," Kirsten retorted.

April essayed a silly grin. "You should've gone before we left," she tried to joke, and for her efforts got a long, disgusted stare from Kirsten. She sighed. "All right, all right, I'll let you know when Laura comes out."

‡ ‡ ‡

Roarke and Leslie were having dinner on the veranda as usual when a jeep pulled to a stop in front of the house and none other than Sheriff Clark Mokuleia hopped out of the driver's side. Roarke and Leslie watched in surprise as he trotted around the front of the vehicle and assisted Myeko out of the passenger seat. She grinned her thanks, and he smiled back. "Go ahead and do whatever you have to," he said. "I'll wait here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Myeko protested. "You gotta be busy."

"Not that busy," Mokuleia said, chuckling. "Hello, Mr. Roarke, Miss Leslie."

"Hello, Sheriff," they replied in chorus, watching Myeko toddle across the manicured lawn and pause beside the plumeria bush Leslie had planted the previous summer, which had finally begun to thrive just a few weeks before.

"What's the good word?" Leslie asked. "Started labor yet?"

Myeko snorted. "If I had, d'you think I'd be standing here talking to you? No, I was just wondering if you'd mind telling me how the moon-shot thing's going." Leslie gave her a too-innocent look, and Roarke raised an eyebrow.

"And what gave you the idea that we would know?" inquired Roarke.

Myeko grinned at him. "With all due respect, Mr. Roarke, all outer-space launches take place in Cape Canaveral, not Fantasy Island. There's no way on earth this could be anything but somebody's fantasy. Since I interviewed those women this morning, I was curious as to how they're doing. Are they in space yet?"

Roarke relented, with clear but amused reluctance. "I can see you've known Leslie too long. As a matter of fact, they have been in space for approximately four hours at this point, and the last contact I had with them indicated that Miss Anderson is prone to space sickness. Otherwise, they are all in fine shape."

"Space sickness?" This from Leslie and Myeko together.

Roarke smiled wryly at his daughter. "Unfortunately, yes."

"But I thought the training program was supposed to weed out all the applicants prone to motion sickness," Leslie protested.

"Even the closest approximation cannot guarantee success during the actual event," Roarke reminded her. "And it would appear that Miss Anderson discovered this the hard way." His gaze lost focus for a moment. "I hope it won't be necessary to cut their fantasy short. It would be a great shame if it were."

"Just because one of 'em got motion sickness?" Myeko scoffed. "I'm sure no real moon mission would be aborted in mid-trip just on account of one of the astronauts blowing cookies every couple hours."

Leslie giggled in spite of herself; Roarke, who had been training a dubious stare on Myeko, shifted it now to Leslie and gave it a touch of reproach. She shrugged apologetically and snickered again. "Sorry, Father. Well, was that it, Myeko?"

"Yup. Thanks for letting me in on it. The thing is, when they get back to earth, I'm supposed to do a follow-up interview," Myeko explained. They nodded understanding, and she grinned again. "Sorry for interrupting your supper. I'll let you get back to it. Okay, Clark, I guess I'm ready to head on home."

Mokuleia pushed himself off the front of the jeep where he'd been leaning. "Don't forget, if you need to get to the hospital quick, you've got my number. I'm on duty all night, so I can handle it myself."

"That's sweet of you," Myeko said with an uncharacteristic blush that made Leslie lean halfway over the porch railing from her chair, trying to figure out if her friend really had turned red. Mokuleia helped Myeko back into the jeep, waved at Leslie and Roarke, then swung himself into the driver's seat and piloted the vehicle away down the lane.

"I think I'd better keep an eye on those two," Leslie muttered, settling herself back into her chair. Roarke chuckled and returned to his meal.

§ § § -- January 30, 1994

Julie had willingly agreed to host a reunion breakfast for Frida and her friends from school. This had included Maureen Tomai Harding, Myeko Sensei, Lauren McCormick, and three other women Frida had known who weren't in the same crowd with Leslie and the others: Michelle Stockwell, Janine Kurakawa and Caitlyn DiAngelo.

"What about Camille Ichino and Leslie?" Julie had asked during their planning the previous evening.

Frida shook her head. "Camille and I never really got along," she said quietly, and Julie had nodded and left it at that. She well remembered the story of Camille's long-ago altercation with Frida. "As for Leslie, I asked her, but she is too busy."

"Typical," Julie had said, grinning. "Okay, then, seven of you it is. Is Klaus going to be there? Come to think of it, why didn't he come back with you for supper?"

But Frida had only shaken her head, and Julie had noted the bleak look on her face. Klaus must've found out, and didn't like what he heard, she thought. Well, I'd say good riddance if he can't handle it, but poor Frida looks like the world just ended. I'll check around later and see where he is.

Shortly after the other women, save for the six-months-pregnant Maureen Harding, had headed home—Myeko catching a ride from Caitlyn DiAngelo, who had driven her little compact over to Fantasy Island via the ferry from Coral Island where she lived—Leslie appeared, tapping on the screen door into the kitchen and letting herself in when Julie called out a greeting. "Hi, folks. Oh, hi, Maureen, how's the baby?"

"Doing somersaults," Maureen said with a laughing groan. "I'm afraid I didn't eat much breakfast, and I wish I had, since what little I got down was delicious. I'm just waiting for Grady to come pick me up. Busy?"

"As always," Leslie said. "I know it's early, Julie, but Father wants to know if you've got a room list yet."

"I can get one, if you can hang on for about fifteen minutes," Julie said, dumping some detergent into the dishwasher and closing and locking its door. She spun the dial and got it going, then glanced out the back door as a movement caught her eye. "Looks like Grady's here, Maureen." She started out of the room.

"Oh, thanks, Julie," Maureen said, pushing herself to her feet. "I'm surprised I'm still awake. I sleep so much, Grady says he's barely had a chance to talk to me in four months." She grinned wryly. "If I think I've got it bad, all I have to do is look at poor Myeko. She looks about ready to explode."

Leslie giggled. "Tell Grady I said hi. Take it easy and I'll try to call you later, if you can spare some time between naps."

Maureen swatted her arm and both women laughed. "Frida, it was terrific seeing you again," Maureen said. "For heaven's sake, when we say to keep in touch, we mean it. You better write to us this time after you leave."

Frida smiled wanly. "I promise to try," she said. Maureen and Leslie looked at each other, then Maureen sighed softly and let herself out to meet Grady.

"Did Klaus come back at all?" Leslie asked gently, settling herself into a chair.

Frida shook her head miserably. "Julie checked for me. He took a room at the hotel."

"Oh dear." Leslie winced on her friend's behalf. "What about your father and his family? Have you seen them yet today?"

"Not since lunch yesterday. I know one of my half-sisters or Gunnar must have told Klaus about my mother's family." She closed her eyes and tried to school her expression, but tears seeped out from under her eyelids in spite of herself. Leslie felt her throat closing in empathetic response and reached over to squeeze Frida's hand. Frida opened her eyes at the motion and grimaced when she noticed that Leslie's eyes had filled with tears. "Perhaps it's better. Do you see what I am doing to you? I can never be emotional without making Klaus feel the same way. It's not right. He is better off without me."

"That's ridiculous," Leslie said immediately. "Listen, as soon as Julie gets back with that room list, you and I are going over to the main house. Father sent me here to bring you back as well as to get Julie's list."

Before Frida could comment, there was a tapping on the screen door, and both women looked around. Leslie didn't recognize the two young adults who stood there, but Frida sat up in astonishment. "Jannike and Gunnar?" she exclaimed.

"Is it all right if we come inside?" Jannike asked timidly. "There is something we need to tell you about."

"Come in, yes," Frida said, and the two youngest Dannegårds slipped inside and sat uneasily at the table. "Leslie, my half-sister Jannike Dannegård and my half-brother Gunnar. This is Leslie Hamilton, Mr. Roarke's daughter and assistant."

Leslie nodded at them and arose. "I'll wait in the living room," she said and left the threesome alone in the kitchen.

Once she was gone, Jannike, who had apparently elected herself spokesperson, returned to Swedish. "Frida, we discovered something terrible last evening. I felt it was better you should know. When Gunnar and I heard about it, we realized that things were getting out of control, and it was time to try to make amends."

"I don't understand," Frida said.

"We heard that your fiancé…" Gunnar began, then flushed guiltily and broke his gaze. "Well, we know what happened, and the reason we know is that Brita is the cause. Worse than that, she boasted about it at dinner last night."

"What?" Frida said faintly, confused and stunned.

Jannike bit her lip. "Your Klaus learned about your powers, didn't he?" she asked, and Frida nodded. "He found out because Brita took it upon herself to tell him. I admit, Gunnar and I weren't very happy to hear about your existence, and I think that's only because we're protective of our mother's memory. But Brita went much too far. It wasn't her place to inform Klaus about your powers or anything else. We talked with Lukas, and we realized it's not your fault that you were born to the Liljefors clan. We eavesdropped yesterday when you met Pappa and you spoke with him. We heard Pappa say that your mother hated her powers, and we heard how unhappy your childhood was because your adoptive parents abused you for having yours. Our animosity toward you has been causing Pappa a lot of pain, and I'm sure it's not easy for you either. So I simply want to tell you how sorry I am for my coldness to you, and I hope we can come to think of each other as sisters."

"I apologize also," Gunnar said, meeting Frida's gaze. "I hope you'll feel welcome to our family, in spite of Brita and what she did."

Frida smiled sadly, but there was hope in her eyes. "I would be very happy to think of you as my brother and sister. After all, you truly are."

They smiled awkwardly at one another, and Jannike offered, "Will you come and have breakfast with us? I'm sorry that Pappa won't be there, but Mr. Roarke asked him to come to the main house…"

At that moment Julie and Leslie came back into the kitchen, and the three looked around. Jannike smiled at Leslie and said in English, "We were just asking Frida to come to breakfast with us."

Leslie smiled back. "A lovely gesture, and it's great to see you guys starting to become a family. But Father asked me to bring Frida to the main house."

"He asked Pappa there too," Gunnar spoke up. "Well, I suppose Lukas and Jannike and I can eat at the hotel." He scowled. "Brita will just have to fend for herself. Come on, Jannike. I hope we'll see you at lunch, Frida."

Frida smiled. "That would be very nice."

Once they'd left, Leslie and Frida departed as well; Leslie drove them both back to the main house, where they found Roarke and Kristofer Dannegård waiting in the study. "Ah, very good, Leslie. Good morning, Frida," Roarke said.

"Good morning, Mr. Roarke. Is there something you need to tell me?" Frida asked.

Roarke nodded. "As a matter of fact, this will eventually concern your brothers and sisters, but for the moment I believe you and Mr. Dannegård are of primary importance." He crossed the room to the terrace and leaned out. "Please come in, if you will."

Frida moved to Kristofer's side and Leslie waited quietly near the foyer steps; they all watched as Roarke stepped back to allow a group of people—all females—to enter the study. There were five of them, of assorted ages: a woman somewhere in her seventies, two women in their late forties, and two teenaged girls. The younger women and the girls had thick, lustrous golden hair; all had blue eyes and bore a pronounced resemblance to Frida.

Roarke turned to Frida and Kristofer. "May I present your closest relations in the Liljefors family, Frida. I took the liberty of bringing them here from Lilla Jordsö."

The oldest woman stepped forward and scrutinized Frida carefully, then Kristofer, without saying anything. Her clan hung back as if waiting for her permission to speak; it appeared that this one was the matriarch and held a great deal of power over the rest.

Finally Frida asked an unwilling question. "Who are you?"

The old woman smiled then. "If Mr. Roarke has given us the correct information, I am your grandmother, Sofia Liljefors." She peered at Kristofer. "And you are the man responsible for sending our Catarina into a depression from which she never truly recovered."

Kristofer went pale and laid one hand over his heart. "Herregud," he breathed.

"Let him be," Frida commanded unexpectedly. "He is my father, and you'll treat him with respect. He loved my mother, and I'm sure she loved him too."

Sofia Liljefors stared at her and then nodded slowly, taking a step or two back. "Very good. You know your own mind." She turned to indicate the others. "The young girls are your cousins, Anja and Carolina. The other women are your mother's sisters, Hanna and Madeleine; Anja is Madeleine's child and Carolina belongs to Hanna." Sofia hesitated, then gave Roarke a sharp glare that surprised even him. "I still don't believe this was the right thing to do, Mr. Roarke."

"Perhaps you should let events happen as they will, Mrs. Liljefors," Roarke suggested. "You may find yourself very surprised indeed."

Sofia shook her head. "You must forgive me if I don't believe you," she said, eyeing Roarke with what Leslie and Frida both recognized as a particular purpose. Frida started for the older woman, but Leslie reached out and restrained her. Frida twisted around to stare at her, and Leslie shook her head calmly, smiling in reassurance.

"Father's more than a match for her," she whispered. "Look." Both girls, as well as an agitated and still-pale Kristofer, watched while Roarke and Sofia Liljefors stared each other down. Before a full minute had elapsed, Sofia had lost the battle; Roarke continued to study her as she blinked and stepped back with a look of consternation.

"You cannot influence me with your mental powers, Mrs. Liljefors," Roarke told her quietly. "It's time to let the matter go. Too many years have been thrown away for the sake of your wish to retain control over all aspects of your daughters' lives."

Sofia scowled but capitulated. "Very well, Mr. Roarke. Let it be on your head." She pointed at one of the women. "Hanna." The other promptly departed the study, to the confusion of Frida, Kristofer and Leslie.

"What's happening?" Frida asked, directing the question at Roarke.

"Oh, you'll see in just a moment," Roarke replied with a smile, catching Leslie's eye and discreetly beckoning at her. She went to join him behind the desk.

Sofia peered at Frida for another moment before sighing. "You are unquestionably a Liljefors, my girl. You have the look—the same golden hair, blue eyes and pretty face. And of course, you've surely inherited the powers."

"Unfortunately, yes, I did," said Frida stonily. "All my life they have been a trial for me, and you can't imagine how many times I wished I never had them. Only once were they ever an advantage to me." She glanced at Roarke and Leslie, then determinedly closed her mouth and refused to elaborate, despite Sofia's questioning look.

It was then that Hanna Liljefors came into view through the open French shutters, speaking softly in Swedish. It sounded to Leslie as if she were coaxing someone along. They all watched while Hanna reached out and gently drew another woman into sight, guiding her along into the study.

The newcomer's gaze darted from one face to another so rapidly that nobody was sure if she had really made eye contact. Though she had seen everyone in the room, no single face had really registered, judging from her blank expression. No one spoke for a long, charged moment.

Then there was a sound from Kristofer and everyone's attention snapped to him. "Herregud," he said, "it can't be…is it?"

Sofia Liljefors fixed him with a glare. "Yes," she said, "it is. Frida, meet Catarina Liljefors—your mother."