§ § § - March 27, 2000
Hera appeared all of a very startling sudden in the study that morning just before Roarke and Leslie were about to leave for the plane dock. "Surprise," she said apologetically when they both flinched back. "Excuse me for that—I didn't realize you were leaving. I just wanted to thank you for Athena's and my shared fantasy."
"Even though you both found out it was a bust?" asked Leslie curiously.
"Even then," said Hera. "Actually, my dear child, it might have been less of a 'bust', as you call it, than it seems. Four couples sought me out last evening at the hotel and admitted that they'd been threatening divorce in the heat of spirited arguments, and told me they're going to work things out. And three more have actually asked for my help."
"That's wonderful, Hera," said Roarke, smiling.
"I think I'll open up a marriage-counseling service," Hera mused, her face lighting with the thought as it grew on her. "Yes—that's it! No more boredom for me! So, young lady, perhaps this fantasy was a success after all. If Athena's nice to me, I might even employ her as my secretary. Well, I'm off, then. Many thanks, Roarke, and may you and your daughter both go well. Till later." She nodded at them and swept her arms up, then disappeared.
Roarke and Leslie looked at each other. "So Hera took Athena's fantasy and got more out of it than Athena did," Leslie summarized with a grin. "I guess one out of two isn't bad, huh, Father?"
"So it seems," Roarke agreed, amused. "We'd better hurry or we'll be late for the plane's departure."
§ § § - March 29, 2000
Lunch on Wednesday was a decidedly desultory affair. Christian was packed and ready to catch the one-o'clock charter for the first of five flights back to Lilla Jordsö, going via Honolulu, Los Angeles, New York and London. Neither he nor Leslie was in much of a talking mood, and Roarke watched the pair surreptitiously while they all ate.
Finally Christian shook his head and pushed his plate aside. "If I get hungry somewhere along the way, I'll pick up something at one of the airports," he said. "At the moment I just don't have any appetite. Don't tell Mariki—our truce is fragile enough."
His attempt at humor met with a quiet chuckle from Roarke and a halfhearted smile from Leslie. Christian smiled back at her and sat back in his chair, letting his gaze meander across the scenery beyond the veranda and beginning to look wistful. "It will be a few more weeks before spring really arrives back home," he observed to no one in particular. "When I'm shivering in my flat, I'll call back the memory of this beautiful island and the warmth and sunshine here."
Leslie had only one question. "When are you coming back?" she wanted to know.
This time Christian's smile was genuine. "Ah yes—I meant to tell you about that. I must admit I've been neglecting the parent office, even with Jörgen's capable supervision; but I hope to return in six or eight months. Does that suit you?"
Leslie tried to smile, but failed miserably. "It seems so far away," she said mournfully.
Roarke put down his fork and leaned forward a bit. "Leslie, you must understand that it's no easier for Christian than for you. And because his home is so far from here, he finds it difficult to get between the two locales. In spite of everything, my child, the current situation dictates that his primary life be in Lilla Jordsö right now, and there simply isn't any way to change that," he told her.
"It won't seem so long, my Leslie Rose," Christian added hopefully. "You have your job that you love, and your friends to see you through. And don't forget, we're always in touch—only an e-mail apart at any moment."
"I know," Leslie sighed, "I'm acting like a spoiled-brat child, aren't I? I know it probably won't seem that long. But you know, Christian, you've never yet been with me on my birthday—nor have we been together on yours either. I want to be with you, that's all. I want to spend every May 6 and June 25 with you, and every Christmas and New Year's, and every other holiday…every single day with you."
Christian regarded her with a tiny smile and wrapped his hand around hers. "What I wouldn't give for that privilege as well. I hate the waiting as much as you do, but just now there's no alternative." He paused long enough for his expression to change as something occurred to him. "We've been together under the same roof for two and a half months—even if not in the same bed—but otherwise constantly together, so that we've discovered foibles and quirks and faults in each other that will affect our lives together. Knowing that I never learned to make a bed, and get imperial when I'm drunk, and hate avocados and strawberries, and become utterly unaware of the entire world when I'm trying to fix a computer problem, and absolutely must have the cap on my toothpaste…I wonder, are you so sure you want to be married to me, now that you've learned all that?"
Leslie grinned suddenly and said, "As much as I've been wondering if you still want me for your wife now that you know I'm terrified of thunderstorms, and can't stand olives, and have a quick temper, and need to have everything in a certain place. But I have to have the cap on my toothpaste too, so there's a good place to start."
They all laughed, and Roarke said warmly, "I think you two will be just fine. The plane will be departing soon—Leslie, quickly, get Christian a pass to take with him for the next time he returns."
Fifteen minutes later, Christian and Leslie clung to each other like a pair of barnacles, neither willing to be the first to break the embrace. "You'll have to let go sometime," Roarke pointed out humorously. "Perhaps the time apart will be good for you. Leslie is too easily distracted lately."
Christian smirked and Leslie rolled her eyes. "Thanks loads, Father," she said, making Roarke laugh.
Christian stepped back from Leslie for a moment and shook hands with Roarke. "I can't possibly thank you enough for your stunningly generous and gracious hospitality across these ten weeks," he said. "You did far more for me than you had to, and you have my utmost gratitude."
"You are always welcome, Christian," Roarke told him, smiling. "I'll leave you and Leslie to make your farewells in private. Travel safely."
He stepped aside and Christian turned to Leslie, wincing slightly when he saw the tears standing in her eyes. "Don't cry, my Leslie Rose," he pleaded softly. "You know how it pains me to see you cry. Try to smile for me."
Leslie shrugged and wrapped her arms around him instead, nestling her head on his shoulder and breathing in the familiar scent that was uniquely Christian. "It's just that…well, I miss you already," she said, closing her eyes to fill her other senses.
She felt Christian's arms close around her and tried to take mental note of every detail of the moment—his warmth surrounding her; the curiously appealing mix of soap and his rare cologne and the man himself that would forever instantly identify him to her even if she were blind and deaf; the sounds of his voice as he spoke to her and of its resonance into her body while she stood against him. "I feel less bereft without you," he said, "because I know I'll be returning to you, and I've learned the hard way to share your faith that someday we'll be together forever. When I'm home in my empty bed, my darling, do you know that I fall asleep daydreaming that you're there lying by my side? It's how I end every day—thinking of you. And each day we get through is a day closer to joining our lives at last." He lifted her chin and she opened her eyes to meet his gaze; gently he settled a soft kiss on her lips. "I know you've heard me say it before, but it's still true. I love you, my Leslie Rose, and I'll love you until death and beyond." Christian kissed her again, deeply and thoroughly until she'd grown breathless, then set her back from him and visibly braced himself. "Until I return…"
He'd taken no more than four or five steps to the dock when she called, "Christian—" He stopped and turned to her with a quizzical look on his face, and she drew in a deep breath and spoke her carefully rehearsed words in jordiska. "Jag älskar dej, Christian, med hela hjärtet ock i hela livet." I love you, Christian, with all my heart and for all my life.
Unexpectedly his eyes filled with tears and one spilled over. He came back long enough to hug her fiercely and murmur in a choked whisper, "I love you so much…" She had no chance to respond before he broke abruptly away and half ran up the dock. Leslie watched him go, tears flowing freely, but a small smile on her face. She was grateful for Roarke's quiet support when he came to her and slipped a comforting arm around her.
§ § § - Lilla Jordsö
As usual, there was an official car waiting for Christian at the airport. He settled into it, absently fingering the blue charter-plane pass Leslie had given him. His flights had gone in rapid succession with short layovers, unlike his mad-dash trip out, so that it was still the same day he had left. Late-afternoon shadows stretched across the roads, dappling the early-spring sunlight as the limo navigated the route to the castle. He checked his watch and wondered if Leslie might be awake yet.
"Why exactly does Arnulf want to see me?" Christian asked the driver when he got out under the portico.
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I don't know," said the driver apologetically. "His Majesty merely told me to bring you here."
Christian made a perplexed noise, shrugged to himself and handed the man a few bills. "Wait here for me, please," he requested and made his way into the castle. As he so often did, he thanked fate that he was born the youngest and didn't have to make his home in this gloomy architectural nightmare with its huge, drafty corridors and astronomical climate-control bills. Arnulf, a throwback to some of the earliest days of the country's monarchy, still lived entirely off taxes collected from the population, and in some ways Christian was financially better off than his brother.
He found Arnulf in his office; Marina was there too, and she nodded and winked at Christian, surprising him. Arnulf looked up, but not in time to see this, and gave his brother a frigid glare. He spoke in English, deferring to Marina's lack of knowledge of jordiska. "Why were you gone so long?"
Christian eyed him for a long moment, moving at some leisure to the only other chair and preparing to seat himself. "Greetings to you too, brother," he drawled sardonically.
"I did not tell you to sit," Arnulf snapped.
Christian sat anyway. "I suppose you'll have me shot at sunrise for not waiting your permission to do that," he said, then snapped his fingers. "Oh, that's right, you can't. I'm your pawn in the amakarna trade, and you need me alive in order to ensure your supply."
"Sarcasm does not become you, lill'bror," said Arnulf.
"What I become is impatient," said Christian sharply, sitting up and leaning forward. "What do you want with me, Arnulf? You may as well stop trying to intimidate me. I lost my fear of you before I started school as a child."
Arnulf sighed as though greatly put-upon. "Christian, you have been gone for weeks," he said. "The only person you bothered to tell was Marina, and she has been pining in your absence." This made Christian and Marina exchange astonished glances; the oblivious king continued, "Where were you all this time? You cannot tell me it was official business."
"It was," Christian said calmly, sitting back again. "My business has been doing very well, and I decided to open a satellite office. It was necessary to find a location and hire a staff, and these things take a great deal of time."
"So much of it?" demanded Arnulf skeptically.
Christian grew exasperated again. "Arnulf, you're a king—a very insular king. You've never had to earn your own living, and you have absolutely no idea whatsoever of the requirements and intricacies of running a business. Who are you to question me about why it takes this much time to do this or that? I really don't understand you; you've never given me much credit for anything beyond being a good little puppet who takes on the menial royal duties you think are beneath you. You told me I'd get not an öre from the royal coffers; but when I try to nurture my company to assure an income for myself, you begrudge me the effort I need to make. Do you think I have a money tree growing under my bed? And besides, what difference does it make to you what I do or where I go? You wouldn't care, I suspect, if it weren't for that miserable spice you can't live without."
Arnulf had been turning quite red in the face, but before he had a chance to commence with pitching a fit, Marina unexpectedly leaped to Christian's defense. "Not a word," she warned, visibly shocking Arnulf. "Ever since you and my father conspired to rob Christian and me of the happiness we had found in our love for others, I've been watching you. You treat almost everyone coldly, but you seem to reserve special venom for Christian. He can't take a step or say a word that meets with your approval, unless the step is in a direction you pointed him in or the words are those you put in his mouth. You expect him to support me financially, but you complain about the time he invests doing so. He brought back your runaway daughter almost three months ago, and there was never a word of thanks from you. Tell me, Arnulf, do you hate Christian so? And if you do, why?"
"I do not hate him—he is my brother," said Arnulf, his voice stunned, as if he couldn't get his mind around the idea that Marina was scolding him like this.
"You could have fooled me," Christian muttered.
"Then you resent him," Marina said before Arnulf could respond to that. "You don't treat any of your other family as abominably as you do Christian. To you, he's a toy to be played with when you're in the mood, and to be thrown in the corner to await your leisure when you aren't. You manipulate his life and expect him not only to accept it, but to welcome it and beg for more." She paused to take a couple of deep breaths, narrowing her eyes at Arnulf and freezing him with a glare that made Christian begin to grin. "Well," she went on, "since you refuse to listen to the truth from Christian, then perhaps you'll be more receptive to hearing it from me, and it might actually sink into that kilometer-thick skull of yours. Christian and I are not in love, Sire. I haven't been pining away for him, nor has he for me. I have a man back in Italy whom I love deeply; Christian is also very much in love with another woman. There will be a day, I am certain, when this situation will change somehow, and you and my father will no longer have the iron control over our lives that you do now; and we will both be free to join our true loves and embark on the lives we deserve with them. And one other thing: you've been asking…no, demanding that we have a child. That will never happen, Sire. I will not be the mother of Christian's children, and he will not be the father of mine. As long as Christian and I are trapped in this marital farce you created, we shall both remain childless. And that is the final, official word in this matter." She arose, looking very regal in her righteous wrath. "Because of you, we are forced to live together; but you cannot dictate the vagaries or circumstances of that life. You will refrain from any further interference in our lives or our joke of a marriage. Come, Christian, let's go home."
Automatically Christian followed her out, trying to swallow back his laughter. Somehow he succeeded till they were in the limo on their way to the city; then he gave full voice to his merriment. "Marina, that was simply magnificent!" he exclaimed gleefully. "I didn't know you had it in you."
She was grinning broadly. "Did you see the look on his face?" she chortled. "I think it will be the middle of the night before he recovers from the shock of seeing his docile little sister-in-law laying down an ultimatum to him." They sat and let their laughter play itself out; then she asked, "So how did you find Fantasy Island? And since you were away so long, I can only assume that your reconciliation with Leslie was a great success."
"So it was," Christian said cheerfully. "Which reminds me, I need to send her a message as soon as we reach home. I thank you for your words on our behalf, Marina. I don't know if they'll make life with my brother any easier, but at least now he knows the truth of everything." He could already imagine Leslie's delighted laughter over the story he planned to tell her…and half an hour later, that's just what she did.
A/N: I've really enjoyed everyone's feedback on this and the previous two stories; I have such a wonderful time writing about Christian and Leslie that sometimes it's hard to return to the proper Fantasy Island format! But that's what I'll be doing for a while, beginning in the next story. Special thanks as always to Harry2, jtbwriter and Kyryn…and welcome back, BishopT!