§ § § -- November 14, 2005
Christian slowly shook his head when they'd finished. "I think you were very lucky."
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Roarke contradicted him, pretending affrontery. "It was careful planning on my part, plus a healthy dose of explicit trust on Leslie's."
"I have to commend you, my Rose," Christian admitted with an apologetic glance at Roarke. "I'm afraid I would find it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to trust anyone as far as that." He hesitated, then amended with a sheepish smile, "Except perhaps you."
"Good save," Leslie teased him, and they all laughed. Then she settled back and slanted a slightly wary look at her father. "There's another one I never told you about."
"Oh? And what would that be?" Roarke inquired.
"Remember the summer I was seventeen and Simon Lightwood-Wynton came here with his mother? When you stuck me with him as his, uh, babysitter?"
Roarke nodded, and Christian said, "I think you told us about this before—if I recall correctly, it was the time Lightwood-Wynton came here looking for a wife, or something like that, and I got stuck repairing his abused laptop all weekend."
Leslie quirked her mouth to one side. "Yeah, well, there was a rather significant part I left out when I told you about it that weekend." She turned to Roarke. "I'm sure you remember that you entrusted me with the key to the little room we set up in their mansion and told me to be sure it never left my sight."
"Yes, I recall very well," Roarke said, looking curious.
"Just to be sure I could do that, I went down to the kitchen and got some string from the staff there, and wore the key around my neck. It was the most foolproof way I could think of not to lose it. But there was one little drawback. Eventually I had to remove it, so I could take a shower, and Simon had the unbelievable gall to sneak into the bathroom while I was showering and steal it from under the towel where I hid it."
"Indeed!" said Roarke, eyes widening. "And how did you get it back?"
"Father—before you start reading me the riot act, keep in mind that Simon arranged it so I had no choice in the matter. Myeko had slept over at the mansion with me the night before because they painted her bedroom that weekend, so I got her to help me out—I figured two was better than one. We had to go down to the room you'd set up for her and see if he was there. The door was unlocked all right, but Simon wasn't in the room, and I realized he must have gone off in time somewhere."
"Wait a moment," Christian interjected. "What kind of fantasy was his mother having, anyway?"
"Remember the weekend you and I played roles in a fantasy that involved going back to the founding of Lilla Jordsö?" Leslie asked, and he nodded. "This one was like that, just to different places." He nodded comprehension, and she turned back to Roarke. "Simon wasn't in the room, as I said, and we both looked around in there, but there was no key. So there wasn't anything else I could do but go back in time and see if he'd tried to hide in one of the places in his mother's fantasy."
Roarke frowned a little in suspicion. "You actually risked it, Leslie?"
"I just told you, I had no choice," Leslie insisted. "And I had a feeling that even if I did find Simon, I'd never get him back by myself. I figured Myeko might come up with some strategy that never would've occurred to me. So we both went back, together."
"Oh, Leslie, I thought you knew better than that," Roarke began to scold.
"Hear me out, Father, please, for fate's sake. We went back to Aztec Mexico first, using that counting method I remembered your telling his mother to use. We saw her all right, but he wasn't there. I had to make a guess at how to get us back." She saw Roarke's expression and rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay, so it wasn't exactly the smartest thing I ever did. I was seventeen and in full-bore panic, okay?" At her side Christian started to laugh, and she took a little comfort in knowing that he, at least, found this amusing. "I just made a semi-educated guess and counted backwards from five to see if it would get us back…"
"You're very fortunate that it worked," Roarke said sharply.
Still laughing, Christian intervened this time. "Mr. Roarke, with all due respect, I think it's a little late to scold now. Obviously Leslie and Myeko both got back just fine and without any visible scars or difficulties in returning, and they dragged that insufferable young milord along with them. Maybe you should give Leslie some credit."
Roarke eyed him with some surprise for a moment, then relented, with a reluctant smile. "You make a good point, Christian. Very well, Leslie, go on."
"Well, after we got back from old Mexico, we tried to figure out where Simon might have gone if it wasn't to join his mother. We talked it out, decided maybe he was in the most violent era, and then couldn't decide what that might be. So I tried Viking Norway and Myeko went back to samurai-era Japan, and neither one of us had any luck. When I got back I suddenly had this idea, and when Myeko came back we went together to the American plains, before it was settled by Europeans following manifest destiny. Sure enough, that's where he'd gone and hidden himself."
"As I recall," Christian said, "he disliked you intensely because you were an American by birth, and I think you mentioned that he hated Americans. Why on earth would he have gone to that time and place?"
"Reverse psychology," Leslie told him with a laugh, "pure and simple. But I managed to figure him out, and Myeko and I got him back, key and all. So you see, Father, it all came out just fine. But I knew you were going to get really upset with me, especially since I took Myeko with me, so I figured that what you didn't know couldn't hurt either one of us."
Roarke just stared at her for a long minute or two, making Christian laugh even harder, and Leslie shrugged, grinning at him. "Well, it didn't."
Roarke exhaled and shook his head. "Very well, Leslie…" But Christian's mirth was contagious in the end, and he began to chuckle too. "As Christian so thoughtfully pointed out, obviously you girls and Simon returned unscathed, so there's little sense in my, uh, 'reading you the riot act' for your little adventure. And I must admit it's true; Simon rather did force you to take the actions you did. I only wish you had contacted me before you made your decision to chase him through time."
"It crossed my mind," Leslie admitted, "but I nixed it almost as fast as I thought of it. I figured you'd just get mad at me for managing to lose the key, after all your warnings to me not to. I didn't want to upset you, particularly because I felt I was walking a fine line after I got so up in arms about being assigned to be Simon's keeper in the first place."
"And so it goes down in history," chortled Christian. "Before I forget, I just recalled a little tale Leslie told me shortly after that aforementioned last bout with Mephistopheles. Something about the school bully trying to hook her on cigarettes."
"Oh yeah," said Leslie, sighing. "I thought I gave you enough detail about that when I told you. Do I have to relive it yet again?"
"It's been several years now since you described it," said Christian, "and you didn't give it nearly as much detail as you've done these other little scrapes you got yourself into over the years. How about fleshing it out for me?"
She sighed and exchanged a rueful glance with Roarke. "Oh well, if you insist…"
§ § § -- January 26, 1983
It was the middle of the school week, and Leslie was still sitting here having lunch all alone, without her friends to talk to. A mumps epidemic had abruptly hit Fantasy Island High School the previous week, brought over by a student from the Coral Island Air Force base, as far as the school nurse and doctors on both islands could tell. Leslie had escaped being felled by the disease, for Roarke had seen to it that she'd had boosters to her immunization shots the week before she had been enrolled in school upon her initial arrival here. Her friends' parents, seeing the spread of the disease and growing alarmed, had tried to do likewise with their daughters, but for all of them it had been too late. One after another Camille, Lauren, Myeko, Michiko, Maureen and Frida had succumbed, till by Friday Leslie had found herself occupying their usual lunch table in solitude, like a queen whose subjects were afraid to get too close. Now it was Wednesday of the second week, and there was still no sign of any of the other girls returning to school just yet.
"Fourth day in a row," she muttered to herself. "Good thing I finally got smart and brought something to read." She plunked a school library book down beside her lunch tray, settled herself, opened the book and began to eat and read simultaneously.
She'd been there no more than ten minutes, tops, when a sudden ponderous weight deposited itself on the seat beside hers. Leslie looked up in bewilderment and found herself face to face with Cori Mukulani, known by everyone as the fattest kid and the shortest temper in school…perhaps on the whole island. Cori had never even looked twice at Leslie since the first day she'd attended school here. What did she want with her now?
"Hi," said Cori, looking friendly, which was extremely unusual for her. "How ya doin'? What're you eating all by yourself for?"
"All my friends are home sick," Leslie said a little warily. She might not have minded this overture if she'd believed Cori really wanted to be friends, but she'd seen too many instances of Cori's volcanic, hair-trigger temper to be certain.
"Yeah…stupid mumps," Cori said. "Half the school's out. Made me kinda mad, y'know? I mean, I wouldn't've minded being out of school, but I guess I'm immune."
Tentatively Leslie smiled, just a little. "I know what you mean," she ventured, willing in spite of herself to be friends if Cori was sincere about it. "But I got boosters when I first moved to this island, and I guess they're still working."
"Bummer," Cori said, nodding. "I keep looking for 'em every day in the mirror, but I never see a damn thing. That's the breaks, I guess."
Leslie wondered how on earth Cori could possibly be able to tell she had mumps, considering how large and round her face already was, but she kept this uncharitable observation to herself. "Yeah, I guess so."
Cori shrugged her massive shoulders as if dismissing the whole subject. "Aw well. So how come you and your buddies don't eat out on the senior patio like the rest of 'em? We waited three whole years for our turn to kick out the underclassmen, and now that we can do it, you and those other girls don't even bother."
Leslie shrugged. "Well, for one thing, it's always so crowded. The patio isn't big enough for the whole senior class, after all. We wanted to sit out there at the beginning of the year, but we were never able to find any empty tables, so we gave up after a week or so and just sat inside like we always do." She grinned. "Keeps the bees and other bugs from dive-bombing our food, anyway."
"Hey, yeah, I never thought about that," remarked Cori and laughed, a strange, hoarse, rusty-sounding laugh, as if she wasn't quite sure how to do it. "Well, geez, now that so many kids are out with swollen faces, there's plenty of room on the senior patio. Wanna come out and eat out there with me? Might be your last chance before graduation."
Surprised, Leslie hazarded a glance out the back windows of the cafeteria and saw that she was right; there were quite a few empty tables. The senior patio abutted the building itself and was thickly cluttered with umbrella-shaded tables; most days, if it wasn't raining, all the tables were full. The epidemic, however, had thinned out the student population enough for them to grab one for themselves. "Well, okay, sure, why not?"
A few minutes later Leslie and Cori had settled down at an empty table, and Leslie found herself listening to Cori attempting small talk. She tried to be polite, nodding and smiling in all the right places, but truth be told, Cori just plain made her uneasy. There was no telling when and whether she'd unknowingly offend Cori and set off that notorious temper of hers, and Leslie wasn't eager to receive a dose; otherwise she might have dreamed up an excuse and made her escape.
After a little while Cori leaned over the table and smiled conspiratorially at Leslie. "Hey, y'know something? I got this great secret—something nobody else in school knows. Y'wanna see it?"
"Your secret?" Leslie said uncertainly.
"Yeah—hell, we're pals now, why not? I'll share it with ya."
There was still a faint alarm bell ringing in the back of Leslie's head somewhere, but Cori looked eager and sincere. She's probably really lonely, nobody ever wants to be friends with her, Leslie reflected. She doesn't seem all that bad now that I know her a little bit. And anyway, the other girls'll probably be out the rest of the week…what's the harm? So she hitched up a shoulder, half-smiled agreement, and said, "Sure, okay."
"Come on," Cori urged. "Leave your stuff here, nobody'll take it. They know me." Leslie had to privately agree with that; Cori had an uncanny way of tracking down anyone who dared touch her belongings and beating them senseless, which had quickly taught any would-be pranksters or thieves to give her possessions a wide berth, whether locked up or not. And she could always keep glancing back and checking the table; they wouldn't be out of its sight. She got up and trailed Cori across the lush green grass, then hesitated when Cori headed for a storage shed used by the landscaping service that mowed the school's lawn twice a month.
"Where're you going?" she asked warily.
"Back here," Cori said. "Come on, it's the only way to keep my secret a secret."
Leslie sighed quietly to herself and reluctantly joined Cori in the cool shade behind the shed. They were shut off here from most of the school noises, and in the distance she could hear the usual sounds of the jungle, not dissimilar to those beyond the rear terrace at the main house. She leaned against the wall of the storage shed to enjoy the shade, then glanced casually at Cori. What she saw made her recoil off the wall and gape at the other girl in pure shock. "What're you doing??"
Cori stared at her in amazement. "You mean you never saw anybody smoke before?"
"But…it's forbidden on school property," protested Leslie, knowing she sounded like a goody-two-shoes, but not much caring at the moment. She let further protests die out when Cori ignored her, extracting a cigarette from the pack she'd taken out of her pocket.
"I started smoking so I'd eat less and lose weight," Cori informed her then, looking up. "My sister's idea. She's lost eight pounds so far and she's even fatter than me, so I figured if it worked for her, it'd work for me too."
Leslie stared at her in disbelief. "You have to be kidding," she managed, still stunned. "That's…just insane. It's nuts, and it's not even true."
Cori only laughed, whipped out a lighter and deftly ignited the end of her cigarette, then stuffed the pack back in her pocket and took a long drag. "Ahhh. Hey, wanna try it?" Before Leslie could think of a graceful refusal, Cori lunged forward and practically shoved the thing in her face. The sudden move she made caused the lit end to flare up and release a thin stream of dense smoke, which caught the unprepared Leslie right in the nostrils. The next thing she knew, she had a lungful of acrid, foul-smelling smoke.
"Oh God," Leslie choked out and started to cough violently. Once she got going, she couldn't seem to stop, barely even long enough to suck in another breath to cough some more. Her head ached fiercely with the force of her coughing and her stomach began to churn, but she just couldn't stop.
"Crap, it was just one lousy puff!" she heard Cori yell disgustedly over her hacking. "You really are some kinda spoiled, pampered wimp, Leslie Hamilton. No wonder, livin' the soft life with Mr. Roarke like you do! Geez, princess, forget I even offered!" She puffed on the cigarette again and blew out the smoke; the smell of it overpowered the last of Leslie's defenses, and she doubled over and vomited with even more force than she'd been coughing. Through the roaring in her ears she heard Cori curse virulently, but it barely registered. She was sure her head was going to burst apart and pieces of her skull fly in all directions.
"That is just disgusting," Cori pronounced in a revolted-sounding voice when Leslie had finally regained a little control over herself. Every bite she'd put in her mouth since that morning had come up in the last two minutes; her head pounded in time with her heartbeat, and her stomach ached a bit. "God, that's repulsive."
"Who's back there?" a voice asked suddenly, and just then a girl Leslie knew only from seeing her every year at Myeko's Halloween parties stepped around the shed and came to a shocked halt. "Whoa! Are you okay, Leslie?"
Leslie stared at the pool of vomit on the ground just to keep from looking at Cori. She was afraid even the least glance at that little death rod in Cori's hand would set her off again. "No," she finally croaked.
"C'mon, DiAngelo, you dumb or something? Who could miss that revolting puddle of slime all over the ground?" Cori sneered at the newcomer.
"Shut up, Cori," the girl snapped. "She probably threw up just from looking at you. Come on, Leslie, I'll take you to the nurse's office. Where're your books and stuff?"
Gratefully Leslie let the other girl lead her back to the senior patio to gather her books. She noticed other kids staring, but avoided meeting their gazes and just let the girl gather her abandoned lunch tray and dispose of it for her. Halfway to the nurse's office, she managed to find the wherewithal to ask, "What's your name?"
"Caitlyn DiAngelo," the girl replied, in an unmistakably Bostonian accent that made Leslie smile despite her misery. "I know you because of Frida Olsson—she's one of my friends. I thought you were miserable, so how come you're smiling?"
"Your accent," said Leslie. "You must be a New Englander."
"Yep, born in Boston," said Caitlyn. "My dad's in the Air Force though, that's why we're here. What happened to you that you got so sick?"
Leslie winced at the memory. "Cori tricked me," she mumbled, wondering if anyone would ever really believe the full story. If her friends ever heard it, they'd never let her live down her gullibility.
Caitlyn glanced back at her again but didn't push the issue, for which Leslie was grateful. "Okay, here we are. You need anything else?"
"No, but thanks a lot for helping me," Leslie said with another wan smile. Caitlyn smiled back this time, wished her luck and left.
The nurse was clearly very surprised to see her; Leslie wasn't sick very often, and this was the first time she'd come to this office for any reason. "Poor thing, what happened?"
"I threw up," said Leslie, taking the path of least resistance.
"Well, how about that. Something besides mumps around here for a change," the nurse said cheerfully. "Here, sit down. Let's see if you can keep a little water down, and then we'll decide what to do after that." She took Leslie's books and purse, set them aside and gestured her into a chair, then handed her a small paper cup a quarter full of water. Leslie sipped at it, but the bland, flat taste of water had never appealed to her, and within five minutes she had bolted into the little lavatory and thrown up again.
The nurse nodded when she came out clutching her stomach. "I'll call Mr. Roarke for you," she said. "Whatever you've got, I hope it goes away soon."
"Me too," mumbled Leslie, sinking into the chair again. She supposed she could wish that Cori would go away by moving off the island somewhere, but that wasn't likely.
Half an hour later Roarke entered the school office, where the nurse had left Leslie after informing the staff that she'd authorized Leslie's early departure. He surveyed her on the way back to the car, but didn't say anything till they were eastbound on the Ring Road. Then he inquired, "So what happened, exactly?"
She was really starting to hate that question. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you," she said, wincing as Roarke drove over a small bump in the pavement.
Roarke chuckled. "I've seen a great deal more in my lifetime than you'd suspect," he said. "I'll believe you as long as it's the truth. Tell me."
Leslie released a heavy sigh and reluctantly explained what had happened. Roarke looked surprised, then amused, then disapproving, then all three at the same time somehow. When she finished, he started to laugh softly, shaking his head. "I see now why you thought I might not believe you. However, I know you well enough that there's no reason for me to think you are lying."
"Thanks, Mr. Roarke," Leslie said, sighing again, this time with relief.
"I do have one question," he said after a moment, driving through the town square as he spoke. "You've mentioned this Cori Mukulani in the past, invariably with distaste and disapproval of her actions. Why would you have fallen for her act today?"
Leslie made a face at herself. "I was just stupid and gullible, that's all there is to it."
"Gullible you may be," Roarke remarked humorously, "but stupid you most certainly are not. As to that gullibility, I think you merely want to see the best in people. You were hoping that perhaps, despite everything, Cori truly did wish to be friends, even though you were wary of her actions."
"I should've listened to my instincts," Leslie grumbled. "It's only…she seemed so nice, and I know it was weird because I'd never seen her act nice before. I didn't even know she knew how. Trouble is, she did such a great job of it, I fell for it like a dropped piano." She stared at him with some alarm as he drove down the lane toward the main house. "Do my friends have to know about this? I mean, they'll tease me for the rest of my life if they find out how dumb I was today."
Roarke grinned. "If you prefer, I certainly won't tell, and I'm sure Tattoo will be glad to keep your secret. Unfortunately, I wouldn't count on Cori."
"That's about what I thought," Leslie muttered, and Roarke laughed again and guided her into the house.
§ § § -- November 14, 2005
"I still wonder if she ever quit smoking," Christian mused once their laughter had died down. "When she had that fantasy of hers to meet Prince Carlono, I wondered about it then as well. One could always hope that she kicked the habit when she discovered that you were right, my Rose—it didn't work."
"All too obviously," Leslie agreed dryly. "Well, I'm not in any hurry to go find out. At least I wasn't stupid enough to let her push me into smoking that blasted cigarette she tried to give me. I might be a fool, but I wasn't that big a fool."
"Oh, but you're my fool," Christian teased, and laughed when she rolled her eyes. "To me, that makes all the difference." Before he could say any more, footsteps from the kitchen interrupted him, and they looked around to see Mariki in the inner foyer.
"Hello, all," she said. "Prince Christian, Miss Leslie, you're being paged. There happen to be a few little ones who're all tired out and looking for their mommy and daddy."
Roarke smiled. "Thank you, Mariki. Why don't you bring them in."
Mariki signaled at someone in the direction of the kitchen, and three of her staff came in, each bearing a child. The triplets wriggled in their sitters' arms as soon as they saw their parents, and the women put them down and watched them run for Christian and Leslie with happy faces. "Mommy," Karina blurted.
"Hi there, sweetie," Leslie said, gathering Karina into her embrace. "Are you and your brother and sister being good for Mariki, hmm?"
"Hi, Mommy," Susanna piped up, climbing onto the loveseat so she could get her share of attention. Tobias, seeing Christian's lap free, promptly clambered onto him, and his father cheerfully hugged him.
"Seems to me they're finally back to their old selves," Christian remarked, watching his son yawn hugely. "And, thankfully, ready for their naps."
Just as he spoke, Susanna tried to follow her twin sister's lead in snuggling up against Leslie with her head on her mother's shoulder. There wasn't quite enough room in Leslie's lap for both girls to relax, though, and Susanna encroached on the space Karina had already claimed, earning herself a whack on the arm from her sister. Susanna began to wail, and Leslie shot her husband a look. "You were saying…?"
Christian grinned. "Susanna, come over here to Daddy."
Susanna peered at her father from the shelter of Leslie's arm, tears still hovering on her eyelashes, and said, "Want Mommy." At the same time, Tobias got a stubborn look and managed to spread himself out all over Christian's lap so there was no room for either of his sisters, announcing loudly, "Mine!"
"No, mine," Leslie countered with a wicked little grin, winking at Christian, and smiled with amused satisfaction when he and Roarke burst into laughter.
A/N: You might or might not remember that the Caitlyn DiAngelo character appeared as a fairly major player in my story "Impossibilities". Also, in chapter one I referred to the second-season episode "The Hunted/Spending Spree", which first aired February 24, 1979; and in chapter 3 Leslie summarizes the fifth-season episode "Show Me a Hero/Slam Dunk", original airdate October 10, 1981. Happy New Year, all!