§ § § -- March 26, 2000
She found Athena in her temple, still blessing a long line of people; this time she had a little company, though. Another lovely, lithe blonde had joined the goddess and was chatting conversationally with her, in what must have been Greek since Leslie couldn't understand a word of it. Athena spied Leslie and stopped short. "Temple is closed," she announced. "Be blessed and go well, all." The crowd reluctantly dispersed, and Leslie waded upstream through departing groups of people to get to their guest.
"How's business?" she asked.
"I'm beginning to realize what Roarke meant yesterday when he told me this might not be what I expected," Athena admitted, clearly with great reluctance. "I've spent this entire weekend trying to prove myself to my potential followers. Blessings, material requests, spectacular storms…" Leslie cleared her throat, the memory of hers and Christian's sweet interlude from the night before teasing her, and Athena gave her an odd look. "Something wrong, my dear child?"
Leslie focused on her with some effort and said, "I wish you'd told me about that storm in advance. I'm terrified of the things. It's a phobia with me, actually."
Athena's eyes widened. "Oh dear, I truly am sorry. I wish I had known." Then she grinned. "But it doesn't look to me as if you suffered much. Thor told me where your Christian was when he was reciting that poem of his." Leslie blushed, and Athena and her companion both laughed. "By the way, Leslie, this is Hera. Hera, this is Roarke's daughter, Leslie Hamilton. She's his assistant. That prince I was telling you about is engaged to her."
Hera looked quite surprised. "How can that be?" she asked. "The prince is already married. I should know; I'm the goddess of marriage."
Leslie went ramrod-straight with excitement and hope. "You are? Can you maybe do something about Christian's marriage? We've been waiting for three and a half years, and you can't believe how frustrating it is."
Hera took in Leslie's pleading expression and smiled. "Well, my dear child, before I answer that, I wish to make a request of you. Athena tells me she's had all she can stand of twentieth-century worship, and she wants to speak to Roarke. And as it happens, so do I. Will you take us to him?"
"Of course," Leslie agreed immediately, her heart pounding with crazy hope. Leading the two goddesses on the trek back to the main house, she tried to argue herself out of it, but after so much waiting and frustration, the possibilities were just too sweet to ignore.
Christian was still tinkering with the computer and Roarke was on the phone when Leslie, Athena and Hera came in through the French shutters; Hera scrutinized the oblivious Christian at leisurely length while Roarke, seeing them come in, ended the call as quickly as he politely could. "Good morning, ladies," he said, getting a good look at Hera. "Hera, it's been much too long! Welcome to my island."
"Roarke! How wonderful to see you," Hera said, attention torn from Christian at last. "So this is your island, then! How did you ever find this place? It must be the loveliest spot on earth. I think I'm jealous." She grinned, and Roarke chuckled.
"Your sentiments are deeply appreciated. So tell me, ladies, what may I do for you?" Roarke inquired.
Hera and Athena took seats while Leslie, unable to resist letting her attention wander for a moment to Christian (who was still too absorbed to notice), made her way around the desk to stand beside Roarke. Hera deferred to Athena. "You first, Athena. We may as well do this in the proper order."
Athena nodded and focused on Roarke. "I know this is going to be an unusual request, but hear me out before you say anything. You were right yesterday about my followers. I don't know about being a cult, but I've learned that I don't like the twentieth-century form of worship. Everyone I've seen has asked me for something. Riches, precious things, big houses, fast cars, fame, notoriety, beauty, and 'significant others'." She shot Leslie an amused look as she said the last phrase, and Leslie grinned.
"In other words, there has been no worship for its own sake?" Roarke asked. "All you've encountered is demands for material things?"
"Yes," Athena said. "So what I'd like to do is to transfer what remains of my fantasy to Hera here. She doesn't quite believe that I'm disillusioned, and wants to find out for herself."
"Wait a minute," Leslie broke in. "Ma'am, you were there with Athena when she was blessing all those people a little while ago, and you saw it firsthand for yourself. Are you really sure you want to do this—assuming Father gives his okay?"
Hera nodded firmly. "I have some lessons to impart," she announced. "As you know, Roarke, I'm the goddess of marriage. And the twentieth century has been absolute, utter murder on the institution! It's positively being massacred! Perhaps this isn't something you normally do, Roarke, but Athena is willing to turn over her fantasy to me, and I want the opportunity to give some people an earful. Mickey Rooney and Elizabeth Taylor come to mind…"
Roarke and Leslie glanced merrily at each other. "Well," Roarke said indulgently, "I must admit I have no idea how much you feel you can accomplish; but you are certainly welcome to try. By all means, Hera, you may take over the remainder of Athena's fantasy. And I wish you luck."
"Thank you, Roarke," Hera said and looked at Leslie, whose expression had gone bright with childlike hope again. "Now, then, my dear girl, what's your request?"
"Christian's trapped in an arranged marriage," Leslie began and explained the whole situation in a headlong rush of words that made Hera blink and Roarke stare at her with rising amusement, slowly shaking his head now and then. Even Christian was distracted from his work and watched her in open-mouthed surprise at the sheer speed of her torrent of words.
When Leslie finally finished, Hera dropped heavily back in her chair and blew out her breath. "Dear me, what a situation! I don't know, my dear, I'm afraid I have very little influence on that."
"Then what was the point of taking over Athena's fantasy?" asked Roarke, genuinely puzzled.
"Oh, I don't expect to actually be able to change anything," Hera said, flapping a hand. "As I said, I just want to blast some people for abusing the institution. Leslie, my dear girl, as much as I hate to disappoint you, I really can't do anything for you. Christian's married. If he weren't, there might be a chance."
"What about Marina, then?" Christian asked. "Can't you dissolve the marriage?"
"No…you're in Norse territory," Hera said. "The Norse gods would—"
"We know all about that," Leslie said with a sigh.
Christian, though, pressed forward. "Marina's not a Norsewoman. She comes from Italy, and whenever our marriage is finally dissolved, she's going back. Does that help?"
"Unfortunately, no…because that belongs to the Roman gods," Hera explained, rolling her eyes in Roarke's direction. "And if you thought the Norse gods were territorial…oh dear, the Roman ones are downright impossible. Personally I think it's leftover bitterness from the fall of the Roman Empire."
"So there's really nothing you can do at all?" Leslie asked, despair finally supplanting the last of her hope. Tears sparkled in her eyes, and Christian hastened across the room and hugged her. Hera and Athena watched with mournful empathy as she buried her face in his shoulder and he sighed softly, closing his own eyes.
"It's been a long wait for them," Roarke told the two goddesses. "Christian has been here for ten weeks or so to open a branch of his business, and it appears to me that my daughter has become too accustomed to his presence here." His tone was kind, though, and he reached out and stroked Leslie's hair a few times. "I appreciate your taking the time to listen to her, at any rate. Oh…and by the way, Hera, I truly don't know what you can do about Mickey Rooney and Elizabeth Taylor. But there is no doubt in my mind that you'll find more than enough candidates to, uh, teach a lesson to, as I believe you put it."
"Quite so," Hera agreed. "I really did want to get my hooks into those two actors, though. Nine marriages apiece. I simply don't understand it. Perhaps Liz just enjoys wearing wedding dresses, but I can't come up with any explanation for Mickey." She arose and went to Christian and Leslie, placing one hand on Christian's shoulder and the other on Leslie's, and when she had their attention she smiled at them. "Believe me, I truly feel for the two of you. If it were in my power, I'd certainly do something right away. Actually, I'd refer you to Aphrodite, in case she could find a loophole, but she's in therapy." She caught Roarke's startled look. "She was here for a fantasy 20 years ago or so," she said. "Something about being the perfect woman for a man who wanted nothing less than the very best. She was the most bitter of us all about losing status to these modern religions, and we couldn't stop her from trying to wreak havoc with those poor mortals you were hosting. When she returned, we sent her to the very best shrink we could possibly find."
"Who?" asked Leslie curiously.
"Freud, of course," Hera said. "She's been with him for simply ages, and we haven't seen her since that fantasy. Oh, Roarke, don't look at me like that. Zeus did it all, although I have absolutely no idea how. Something about being on another plane." She shrugged and refocused on Leslie and Christian. "If it helps any, we're on good terms with Thor and a few others. Perhaps we can arrange to have your brother zapped…"
Christian grinned, squeezing Leslie closer. "I appreciate the sentiment, and it's more tempting than it really should be. Perhaps another time, but thank you." He turned to Leslie. "Don't worry, my darling, it's only another phase in the wait. We gave it the best try we could. If another opportunity comes along, then by all means, jump at it."
"That goes without saying," said Leslie, giving Hera a wistful look. "I'm curious about something. Our guests are primarily American, and if you and the Roman and Norse gods have Europe all carved up into 'my side' and 'your side', what about the states, where nobody has any jurisdiction?"
"Well, actually, the US and Canada are gray areas," Hera said, "because of worldwide immigration. We have to check into the ancestral backgrounds of anyone we want to help or harm in those countries." She peered at Leslie. "Are you a native of the US?"
Leslie nodded. "I was born in Connecticut."
"Oh goodness…New England. The grayest area of them all. Those Puritans, you know…and the witch trials. Since they believed in witchcraft along with their one supreme god, it makes the whole situation about as clear as a bucket of dirt. Well, what sort of ancestry do you have?"
"Primarily Irish and English, and about a quarter Swedish through my maternal grandmother," Leslie said.
Hera groaned and shook her head. "My dear child, you're a walking gray area yourself. The British Isles have always been the murkiest part of Europe. The only saving grace I see here is that bit of Swede you have in you. That would put you under the Norse jurisdiction, which once again lets me out and requires me to refer you both to them. Of course," she mumbled, something else apparently occurring to her, "you're here on Fantasy Island, which I believe sits in the orbit of a raft of Polynesian gods we've never met. They'd have to hash it out with the Norse folks in your case…" Hera caught herself and refocused. "I do apologize, my dear girl. I'd like very much to help you out, you being Roarke's daughter, and Roarke being such a dear friend to us all. All I can do is to hope that your wait is as short as possible."
"We appreciate it," Leslie said softly, and Christian gave her another squeeze, smiling his thanks at Hera.
Roarke made a point of checking his gold watch. "If you wish to take advantage of what remains of Athena's fantasy, Hera, I suggest you delay no longer. Time is running short, and I will be forced to see to it that the entire arrangement ends this evening."
"Oh, of course," Hera exclaimed. "Athena, my dear, I thank you most kindly, and you also, Roarke. See you later!" She scrambled out of the house, clearly on a mission.
"Don't you think you'd better keep tabs on her, Leslie?" Roarke said pointedly.
"Oh dear," murmured Leslie, and stole two quick seconds to give Christian a hasty kiss before flying out of the house behind Hera. Christian grinned, watching her go.
"I'd better get back to that computer glitch anyway," he said. "Well, it was a good idea." He returned to the bug he was trying to work out.
Athena smiled. "I would have told Hera good luck if she had stayed long enough to listen," she said and shrugged. "Ah well. I thank you for the opportunity, Roarke…but I guess there's something to be said for retirement after all. Maybe I'll start up a crocheting class or something back on Olympus. Well, farewell, and go well, Roarke. Till we meet again." She returned Roarke's smile and raised her arms with a flourish, disappearing in a bright flash of golden light.
"Very distracting," Christian murmured humorously from the computer. "But you know, Mr. Roarke, I was expecting her to leave that way. Maybe I'm getting used to all this apparent insanity." He acknowledged Roarke's laugh with a wide grin and went back to work.