§ § § -- December 31, 1999
The New Year's bash was in full swing; Leslie, sitting beside Christian at a huge table with all her friends and their husbands, had by now realized that something was on Christian's mind, and it was her hope that the party would provide a distraction. For her friends, it was the first time they had ever actually met Christian, except for Lauren and Brian Knight who had worked with him just before he'd created the island website. Only Myeko was absent from the gathering at the table; she was the only unattached one in their circle now, and Leslie had been glad to see her make fast friends with Anna-Kristina. The other men—Grady Harding, Jimmy Omamara, Fernando Ordoñez and Kazuo Miyamoto—had hit it off with Christian almost immediately and welcomed him into their conversation, settling into the usual talk about sports and other male interests once they'd exhausted the topics of what he did for a living and what, exactly, being a prince entailed. The women had been chatting as well, carrying on a separate simultaneous conversation alongside the men; but nobody missed the fact that all the while, Christian maintained some sort of physical contact with Leslie, whether it was an arm around her shoulders, holding her hand, or even just a touch on her arm. Leslie ascribed it to whatever was on Christian's mind, and had finally quieted her worries by deciding it had to be because he and Anna-Kristina must leave soon for Lilla Jordsö. She herself found their looming departure to be a persistent black cloud in the back of her mind and wanted nothing more than to dispel it, even if only for one night.
Eventually a lull fell in both conversations at once, and the group used the moment to shift their attention, men to their women and vice versa. Everyone watched Christian resettle himself in his chair and slide his arm around Leslie's shoulders again. Still and always the boldest one in the group, Camille asked, "So what's the situation? Any changes?"
"Nothing yet," said Leslie, her voice soft and regretful.
"Sometimes I think nothing will ever change," Christian said, his voice carrying an undertone of bitterness that no one could miss. "There are too many crazy problems that seem to have no solutions. The only thing I could possibly do, it seems, is to desert my entire life and hide here on the island—and even then I'm sure it would do me no good. Mr. Roarke wouldn't tolerate it."
They all laughed, though Leslie's was a trace uneasy. "I did some research on amakarna after Mr. Roarke's illness earlier this year," Fernando remarked. "I was amazed at just how little information there is out there. It's my understanding that, at least presently, all the amakarna on earth comes from one source—some count in Italy somewhere. Is he the father of your wife, Christian?"
"Yes," Christian said and gave Fernando an ironic look. "You might guess that he and I don't get along at all." Everyone laughed again. "Most people have still never heard of the spice, and there's little reason they should have. Believe me, I wish with all my heart that I never had."
An uncomfortable silence fell, and the others watched as Leslie turned to Christian and tilted her head a bit, trying to get a better look at his expression. "It's New Year's Eve, my love," she said, her voice a gentle, teasing coax. "Do you think you can put on a happy face for the sake of the occasion and pretend time's stopped for this one night?"
"Hey, if you stop time, that means we'll never get to count down to the new year," protested Maureen, and once more laughter broke out—this time, tension-breaking laughter. Even Christian succumbed to it and, once recovered, cast an apologetic glance around the table.
"Forgive me," he said. "But my niece and I will have to return home in another day or two, and I've been trying to squeeze out all the time with Leslie that I possibly can. I think I've been something of a wet blanket all evening, and I'm sorry to be…what do you call it, a downer? They do have dancing here, don't they?"
"Oh no, not again," groaned Leslie, and this time she got the laugh. Christian tugged her over and planted a noisy kiss on her lips, then grinned and seemed to lose his gloomy demeanor from then on.
Within a few minutes of midnight, all the couples—including Christian and Leslie—were on the dance floor, wearing themselves out to various lively tunes struck up by the band Roarke had hired for the occasion. Conversation and the general mood had grown steadily more and more excited as the final year of the 1900s played out its last few moments and a new era loomed just ahead of them. Between songs, Christian pulled Leslie into his embrace and studied her. "So it's soon to be a whole new century, then."
"Not technically," Leslie pointed out. "I've been trying to figure out how on earth it ought to be classified. I mean, it's not the 1900s anymore, but it's still the twentieth century, and it won't be the twenty-first till next year. I think 2000 is sort of an 'in-between' year."
Christian thought about it. "That's an interesting way to look at it," he mused, smiling. "A year of transition, perhaps, a chance for everyone to become accustomed to four entirely new numbers, before we have to remind ourselves that we were all born in the last century and not the current one."
"Transition," Leslie murmured, turning the idea over in her mind. "I hope it's a year of transition for you and me, too. At least we're here together, now, and I choose to think it's a good omen."
"I hope you're right," Christian said fervently, hugging her close again. Leslie gladly snuggled against him, but again she wondered what lay behind his nearly continuous need to touch her and hold her. He must be storing up, she reasoned. Who knows how long it'll be before we see each other again? It was good enough to satisfy her, and she relaxed against him.
The final sixty-second countdown started somewhere, taking up momentum but getting all the way to fifty before catching their admittedly distracted attention. "Herregud, it's nearly over already," Christian said, astonished. "I must remember to thank my niece for running off as she did—or else I could never have enjoyed the privilege of bringing in the new year with you." He grinned at her; she grinned back, and they both joined in the chorus of voices counting off the last seconds.
"…five, four, three, two, one…HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Instantly Christian tilted Leslie's head back and kissed her, long, slow, involved. All around them, many other couples were doing the same thing; somewhere not too far away, Roarke, Myeko and Anna-Kristina, standing together, raised champagne glasses at each other and toasted the arrival of the new year. Roarke's gaze strayed then towards his daughter and her prince, and he found himself beset with the feeling that he had failed them somehow. Even his powers fell short when it came to dealing with amakarna, and he could only hope that somehow, somewhere, something would open up and finally clear the way for Christian's and Leslie's happiness. Humorously he wondered if Leslie had made her usual private farewell to the old year, as she had always done in memory of her mother. Surely she did, he reasoned with a smile. She would never have forgotten something so fundamental to her nature. Roarke sipped the champagne in his glass and let his gaze roam the crowd.
Though it was clear the party would continue for probably most of the rest of the night, within fifteen minutes Christian began to look restless and antsy. Leslie wondered at him for a bit, then finally came out and asked, "Something wrong?"
Christian focused on her. "Do you have to play the host alongside your father, or do you think he'd excuse you for the night, especially now that the great moment is past? There are far too many people here, and I've found of late that such gatherings eventually leave me with a headache. Will you come with me to some place where we can be alone for a little while?"
"I'll ask Father about it," Leslie said and smiled, unable to turn him down. She still couldn't quite dismiss the fact of his impending departure with Anna-Kristina, and was as interested in maximizing their time together as he was. "I'm sure he'll understand. I'll be right back."
She found Roarke standing beside Myeko and Anna-Kristina, and grinned at them all. "Happy New Year, everybody!" she greeted them.
The women responded with toasts and wide smiles, and Roarke replied, "Happy New Year, Leslie!" His eyes were twinkling. "We seem to have all survived the big moment, although perhaps I'll ask Christian to double-check our computers tomorrow morning."
Leslie laughed. "That's probably not a bad idea. Uh—speaking of Christian, he's showing signs of partyitis, and I told him I'd ask you about my fulfillment of hostess duties."
"Indeed," chuckled Roarke. "I see no reason you and he can't slip away. It's a special night, and he'll be leaving soon. If you two need time alone together, then take as much as you wish." Their gazes met; his was so knowing that she almost instantly understood its unspoken meaning, and hers grew astonished. "You're old enough to decide for yourself about such things," Roarke said quietly, "and you have a healthy dose of common sense. I trust you, Leslie, and I'll leave you to take whatever time you wish with Christian."
Father and daughter had read each other perfectly, and Leslie was simply astounded. "That's…that's incredible! I've fought with the dilemma for ages, and I could only think that you'd disapprove…"
Roarke smoothed her hair. "Sometimes love is the most important consideration of all," he said softly. "Go to him, my child, and I'll see you tomorrow."
Leslie hugged him hard. "I love you, Father," she said for his ears alone, then broke away and returned to Christian. Roarke watched, with the sudden and very alien feeling that his daughter was slipping away from him and wondering if all parents felt so.
"They're going to make love," noted Anna-Kristina astutely from behind him, and he turned to her.
"You're so certain?" he asked, mock-sternly.
Myeko grinned as Anna-Kristina nodded firmly. "It's a very special night, they're taking time alone together, and we must leave soon—with no knowledge of when we might be able to return." She met her host's gaze. "If only my father were like you, Mr. Roarke. You just gave Leslie and Uncle Christian a lovely and generous gift."
"What a pretty way to say it," Myeko remarked. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Roarke, I really never got around to properly thanking you for that night with Eros a few years ago." Anna-Kristina gawked at her, noticed only by Roarke. "It made me feel like a woman again, at a time when I barely even felt human."
Roarke chuckled again. "You're quite welcome, Myeko, and since it seems to be a night for gratitude, I want to express mine to you for having been such a true and loyal friend to Leslie for all these years. You and the others helped to ease her difficult adjustment when she first came here so long ago, and I believe she's all the better off for it. Thank you for giving her your unquestioning friendship."
He and Anna-Kristina both saw a sudden sheen in Myeko's eyes. "It's always been easy being friends with Leslie, and I'm glad I know her." She cleared her throat loudly. "I thought this was a party. Aren't we supposed to be having fun here?"
They all laughed. "So it is," agreed Roarke, "and I have rounds to make at any rate. Enjoy yourselves."