§ § § -- January 30, 1994
"To paraphrase a certain male astronaut who tromped on this little rock a quarter-century ago," April said as she planted a foot in the fine, powdery lunar dust, "this is one big step for a woman and one gigantic advance for womankind!"
"You said it, pal," Kirsten said gleefully. "Now get out of the way so I can make a similarly profound statement."
"Too late," April teased, "I got the best one already." Kirsten's and Laura's laughter echoed in her helmet speakers as she gathered herself and deliberately jumped off the ground with all her strength. Laura's giggles became a startled shriek as April sailed at least twenty feet over their heads, due to the weak lunar gravity.
"Look out!" she cried involuntarily.
"I'm not going to crash down and bust my head open," April reminded her. "Come on, Laura, even in fourth grade they teach you that the moon's gravity is only one-sixth as strong as it is on earth. Have some fun and cut loose! This is great!"
Laura sighed and eyed Kirsten. "What amazes me is that we managed to even land our module. I couldn't remember half of what they told us in training."
"Lucky for you I took notes," Kirsten said. "Loosen up, Laura, you've been practically a wet blanket almost from the start. I thought you really wanted to do this."
"I did," Laura protested weakly. "It's just that…well, I never really thought about how much was involved, even though it's only a fantasy and I'm sure Mr. Roarke saw to it that we were able to manage somehow on our own. We still have to make the trip back to earth, you know. And you want to know something else? It took days for the real astronauts to get here. How did we make it in mere hours? Is this some more of Mr. Roarke's trickery? Not only that, but—"
"Oh, for crying out loud," Kirsten said, exasperated. "I bet if you hadn't come down with space sickness, you wouldn't be standing there naysaying this whole thing. If you're going to be the voice of doom, then I'm going jumping with April. At least she's more pleasant company right now." With that, she launched herself into the airless expanse over their heads, and Laura heard her enthusiastic entreaty. "Hey, April, wait up!"
Laura shook her head gloomily. True enough, she still didn't feel too well, certainly not enough to follow Kirsten and April bounding around like a pair of rabbits on speed. But she was convinced beyond any doubt that something was going to go wrong. This whole trip had been too smooth so far. She gingerly stepped out of the shadow of the lunar module and stopped cold, gaping in wonder at the sight of a slender crescent Earth halfway between the horizon and lunar zenith. Just for a few minutes, she managed to forget her fears and enjoy the beautiful view in a reverent silence. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be all right after all.
‡ ‡ ‡
Frida looked thoroughly stunned; Leslie, astonished, turned to stare at Roarke in disbelief. He glanced at her with a slight, enigmatic smile and returned his watchful scrutiny to the scene at hand, without speaking.
Kristofer stood drinking in the sight of Catarina Liljefors, slowly extending his arms in her direction, his features suffused with pleading and desperate hope. Sofia and the other women watched with closed expressions. Finally Frida turned to him and whispered, "Is she as you remember?"
"I can see something of the girl I knew…" Kristofer cut himself off, still utterly taken with the sight of the blank-faced woman who stood staring at nothing. His every emotion stood out so starkly in his voice when he next spoke that Leslie felt heat fill her face, as if she and everyone else in the room were voyeurs. "Catta…min Catta…det är jag, Kristofer. Minns du inte mig?" Don't you remember me?
At hearing her name, Catarina blinked and really focused for the first time, studying Kristofer directly. Leslie saw Frida take in a breath and hold it, and unconsciously she did the same. Roarke noticed in his turn and smiled faintly once again.
"Kristofer…är det du?" Is it you? Catarina's face began to light up, her eyes to take on a glow, and she stepped slowly toward him.
Kristofer nodded, his own face lighting in return, and when she came within reach, they grasped each other's hands. Only Roarke saw the shocked looks on Sofia and her daughters and granddaughters. Evidently, he realized, Catarina had been in some sort of catatonia, and they clearly had not expected her to respond to the man she'd known so many years before. To Roarke it was simply further proof that love could conquer anything.
Kristofer spoke again, this time in English. "Catta, seeing you is miracle enough for me…but we have another miracle. This beautiful young lady standing beside me is our daughter."
Catarina's smile dropped and her eyes met those of Frida, who'd let out the first breath and was now holding another. She wore a look that bespoke a dozen emotions. Catarina disentangled one of her hands from Kristofer's and reached out, trembling, toward Frida, touching the face of her child for the first time in almost twenty-nine years. Leslie could see that Frida's emotional control was strained to the very limit.
Finally Frida broke the silence. "My name is Frida."
"My daughter," Catarina whispered. The room was so quiet that everyone heard her clearly. "I have my daughter back!"
It was too much for Frida, who broke down into sobs. That set off both her parents, and they gathered her and each other into a tight, shaky three-way embrace. Sofia, Hanna and Madeleine watched stony-faced; Carolina and Anja wore expressions of wonder.
Roarke heard a small indrawn breath beside him and turned to see that Frida's emotions, having slipped their bonds, had overwhelmed his own daughter. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently, tugging the black handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and handing it to her.
He looked up just in time to see Sofia and her daughters stop in front of his desk like a line of defense. "So," Sofia said, eyeing Roarke with a glimmer of reluctant respect. "It appears your reputation is intact, Mr. Roarke."
Roarke asked in surprise, "Just what reputation is that, Mrs. Liljefors?"
Sofia cracked a smile at last. "Don't play innocent with me, Mr. Roarke. We both know that you're well aware what I mean."
"We had no intention of bringing Catarina here," Madeleine said then. "I think you know that too."
"Yes, I did," Roarke said, nodding. "But think about it. Love has its own powers, you see. What you thought was deep depression on Catarina's part was simply thwarted love. She had a chance at happiness with the man she loved and their daughter, and because of the reputation your family holds, she felt it unwise to take that chance."
"Are you saying we ruined our sister's life?" Madeleine asked.
"I wouldn't put it that strongly," Roarke said kindly. "As I told Frida earlier, I believe that due to your powers, your family has always been misunderstood and mistrusted, and as a result, the clan felt it necessary to close ranks—to protect their own. When your sister fell in love with Mr. Dannegård, naturally you did what you have done for centuries and tried to shield her from the outsider."
"How is it you found Catarina's daughter?" Hanna asked.
Roarke smiled. "That wasn't my doing," he said. "Frida herself sought refuge here on Fantasy Island after the deaths of her adoptive parents when she was sixteen. My daughter became her friend; and last year when Leslie made a visit to Lilla Jordsö, she discovered the Dannegård family by pure chance and began to fit the puzzle pieces together."
Hanna, Sofia and Madeleine all focused on Leslie, who was still dabbing stray tears from her eyes; then Madeleine leaned in and stared harder at her. "You were the foreign visitor we had last October," she said. "My Anja is the one who gave you your room, and I remember that we both tried to persuade you to remain."
Leslie returned her stare. "I thought you looked familiar." She suddenly grinned teasingly. "Next time you might want to think twice about what you charge your guests."
"Leslie," Roarke said, mildly admonishing.
But Madeleine grinned back, Hanna snickered, and Sofia unexpectedly started to laugh. "Don't scold her, Mr. Roarke," Sofia said merrily. "She's absolutely right!"
Laughing softly, they all surreptitiously returned their attention to the reunited little family that stood huddled in the middle of Roarke's study, clinging to one another as if never to let go. Something told both Roarke and Leslie that they intended not to.
‡ ‡ ‡
Roarke and Leslie finished lunch and returned to the study, where Leslie printed out the latest batch of outgoing letters and Roarke resumed balancing accounts. Not five minutes had passed before the foyer door burst open and Brita Dannegård strode into the study, planted herself in front of Roarke's desk and glared at him.
"Where is my father?" she demanded angrily when Roarke looked up with a quizzical expression, as if utterly unaware of her anger. Leslie, startled by Brita's forceful entrance, spun around and watched closely, ready to step in and defend her father if need be. The printer ran out of paper and beeped for more, but she didn't hear it.
"I presume Mr. Dannegård is spending time with Ms. Liljefors and your half-sister," Roarke said calmly. "It was my understanding that they had planned a picnic on the beach. Would you care to join them? I'm sure they'd welcome you."
Brita sneered. "I certainly wouldn't want to join them, Mr. Roarke, except to rescue my father from the influence of those two witches. And don't tell me you don't know what I mean. I know you brought that witch family here so my father's by-blow could finally meet her mother and the rest of that clan."
"Do you have a problem with that?" demanded Leslie, no longer able to keep quiet.
"What do you think?" Brita shot back, attention diverted suddenly. She stalked right up to Leslie to confront her directly. "Aren't you the one who met with my brother Lukas last year and told him all about the existence of that witch girl? This is entirely your fault, Leslie Hamilton. If you'd minded your own business, we would still be living our peaceful lives and my father would never be in the peril he's in now."
"Peril!" Leslie let out a scornful laugh. "The only peril I see is from your small-minded bigotry. You would have fit right in with all the witch hunts of fifteenth-century Europe and the miserable trials in Salem in the seventeenth century. You seem to be every bit as narrow-minded and superstitious as those people were. Tell me, Brita Dannegård, do you enjoy wallowing in your prejudice, or would you like to surprise me by showing enough intelligence and generosity of spirit to hear the other side of the story?"
Brita stared at her, lower jaw hanging. Into the silence caused by her momentary inability to speak, another voice ventured, "If she won't listen, Leslie, then I will." At this Brita, Leslie and Roarke all looked to the open French shutters, wherein stood Klaus Rosseby, looking sad and sheepish all at once.
"Come in, please, Mr. Rosseby, and have a seat," Roarke invited.
"Thank you, Mr. Roarke," Klaus murmured, moving into the study. He caught sight of Brita and squinted at her as he passed her, frowning in sudden recognition. "Ah, yes. You are the one who thought I should be informed of my fiancée's history." To Leslie's surprise, Brita had the grace to blush.
"Mr. Rosseby, this is Brita Dannegård, your fiancée's half-sister," Roarke explained.
Klaus' expression cleared and hardened. "I see." To Brita he said, "So that's why you felt you had a right to say the things you did." Brita's blush deepened noticeably, but she said nothing; and Klaus appealed to Leslie. "You are Frida's friend, aren't you? Please, tell me why she really came here."
"For starters, Frida wanted to find her birth parents," Leslie said, "which she did. At the moment she's having a picnic on the beach with them: Kristofer Dannegård, who is also Brita's father, and Catarina Liljefors."
Klaus' eyes went wide. "Ah!" Then he grew shamefaced and said, "I hope she will still be willing to introduce me to them. But…this one here said something about Frida coming from a family of witches." He indicated Brita. "What did she mean by that?"
Roarke took over. "Frida has certain mental abilities which she inherited from her mother's family. To simplify their provenance, she has the power to influence the thoughts, deeds and emotions of others. From the time she was a very small child, she was made to feel like an outcast—a freak, if you will—by her adoptive parents, who were abusive to her until they died when she was sixteen. At that time, she came here to Fantasy Island for refuge, as she had nowhere else to go and did not then wish to seek out her birth parents.
"Frida has found life with these powers very difficult, and has always strived to keep them in check. She has discovered that the only way she can control them is to appear cool and emotionless, for any strong emotion she experiences radiates from her via some form of telekinesis and affects others in close proximity. When you left here yesterday believing Frida didn't care what happened between the two of you, she was in actuality maintaining rigid control over her feelings so that they did not overwhelm you."
"She's always been afraid of their effects," Leslie said. "My friends and I had an experience with it once ourselves." She outlined the story of Myeko's senior-year Halloween party, Camille's revelations and Frida's reactions, as well as the events that had taken place as a result. Klaus listened in astonished fascination; even Brita, despite herself, was hooked on the tale.
"So what you mean," Klaus finally said slowly, "is that Frida has had to live with this power all her life, and was looking for answers to her questions about it."
"In a nutshell, yes," Leslie said.
Klaus shook his head in self-disgust. "And here I accused her of being a witch, all on the hearsay of someone who herself had no facts, only rumors." He rounded on Brita. "Are you so filled with hate that you feel you must destroy Frida and her family to make yourself feel better?"
Brita appealed to Roarke and Leslie. "I just didn't want my mother to be forgotten!" she pleaded. "I learned that Frida's mother was the true love of my father's life. Imagine if this were your situation—wouldn't you feel rejected? Inferior?"
"Do you truly believe your father has forgotten your mother's memory?" Roarke asked gently. "Are you so certain he is willing to overlook you and your sister and brothers for the sake of his first love and their child? My dear Ms. Dannegård, for your own sake, please speak with your father as soon as you possibly can. I suspect you will find that things are very different from the way they appear to you."
Brita's eyes had filled with tears, and now they spilled over. "All I ever really wanted was to have my mother back," she said thickly. "I didn't think before I acted, and I wanted to believe the worst about Frida because she and her mother threatened to break up our family." She struggled to regain her composure. "I…I'm sorry."
"Why don't you tell Frida and her mother and your father?" Leslie suggested.
"You'll find them on the beach," Roarke reminded Brita with an encouraging smile.
Klaus cleared his throat. "Come on, Brita, I'll go with you," he said. "I have some apologies of my own to make." He smiled at Roarke and Leslie. "Thank you both for clarifying things for me. I hope I can save my relationship with Frida."
Leslie smiled back. "I see no reason why not. And you'll have the chance to meet Frida's parents too." Klaus nodded, and Roarke and Leslie watched him escort Brita out through the foyer door.
"Well," said Leslie, exhaling loudly when they were gone. "I think there's another happy ending in store." She paused, growing aware of a strange noise. "What's that beeping sound I've been hearing?"
"The printer," Roarke told her dryly. "It needs a refill."
"Oops." Leslie grinned. "Well, heck, you can't blame me for being distracted." Roarke laughed in agreement and sat back down to make another attempt at balancing the books while she restocked the printer.