§ § § -- August 7, 2004

Leslie had called the Polidari house and asked Janine to come in early the next day so she could get the shopping done before the Enstads left for the main house. Now she was expected at any time, and Christian, taking a deep breath, glanced at Leslie. "Do you really think I need to say something today? She's been unusually reserved for a girl with a crush, ever since the last time she brought us food."

"Maybe she expected a present from you for her birthday, and she's mad that she didn't get it," Leslie offered whimsically. Christian chuckled.

"Whatever it is, it's been a relief," he said. "In fact, on Tuesday she brought up her planned return to Boston and said she was getting ready to visit the travel agent in town, and I told her that she was likely to find the airfares prohibitive to her departure schedule. You should have seen the look I got from her—it was as if I had betrayed her."

Leslie shrugged. "She has to get her head out of the clouds," she said simply. "I looked online at fares between Honolulu and Boston, just for the heck of it. She'll need at least another three hundred dollars if she wants to get where she's planning to go, and I don't see that she'll be getting that."

"No, I don't suppose so," Christian said. The doorbell rang and he grinned ruefully. "All right, I suppose this is it. You're sure you don't want to stay?"

Leslie grinned at him. "Tell you what, I can sit in the chair under the passthrough and listen in if you want," she teased. "If you need help you can just call me. Though I never would've thought you'd be intimidated by a high-school girl." Christian gave her a look that made her laugh and rise from the table, ensconcing herself out of sight in the living room. He waited till he knew she had settled down, even though the bell sounded again, before he went ahead and answered the door.

"Hi, Mr. Enstad," Janine said with a bright smile.

"Hello, Janine," Christian replied neutrally, trying to keep his voice as impersonal as he possibly could. "We're in something of a hurry today, so if you can be back in an hour, you can have an extra five dollars."

"Oh, you don't have to bother," said Janine breezily. "The usual pay'll be fine. But thanks—you're a really nice guy to offer." She gave him a smile that was eerily reminiscent of the slow smile Leslie often used when she wanted to make love, and Christian had to suppress a shiver.

"Thank you," he murmured and turned away from her. "Here's the list, and—"

"You mean you don't even want to know why I don't need the extra money?" Janine interrupted him in surprise.

Christian paused and looked at her oddly. "It didn't occur to me to wonder, but very well. You were certainly determined to return to Massachusetts, and I'm surprised you'd turn down any extra money."

Janine smiled again. "I don't need it," she said. "I got checks yesterday—one from my dad and one from my grandparents. They each sent me two hundred dollars. I'm almost ready to go home now!"

Christian blinked at her in astonishment. "Checks?" he said blankly.

"For my birthday. They came a little late, but they finally got here." She snickered and said as if in confidence, "I went right off and put both of them in my savings account. My mom acted so proud of me. Man, if she only knew!" She giggled a little deliriously and then, to Christian's complete shock, hugged him. He was so stunned by this that he couldn't react right away, and Janine seemed to take it as acceptance and looked up at him with sparkling eyes. "It's all thanks to you, you know. You're helping me go home, and I think you're just wonderful for doing that. Like I said, I'm gonna really miss you."

Christian tried to step back from her, still flustered. "We…we'll miss you as well, Janine. You've done a wonderful job this summer…"

But Janine wouldn't let him go, to his consternation. "I thought, since I'm gonna be leaving soon anyway…well, I thought I'd go ahead and tell you. See…I'm kinda crazy about you, you know? You're such a terrific guy—really cool and really nice, and not fake and phony like a lot of famous people." She dropped her voice and smiled again, that same scary smile that sent a flood of panic through Christian. "I'm always gonna think of you as the first guy I ever fell in love with." And before he'd recovered from his first shock wave, she raised herself on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his in a brazen move that immobilized him completely. It was so sudden and unexpected that it took him several seconds to get his wits together enough to turn his head aside, grab her arms and firmly set her back from him, taking two or three steps back himself.

"Now wait," he said, shaking his head. "That's too much."

Janine blinked at him. "Huh? I thought maybe you…"

At wits' end, he shook his head and just let the words fall out of him. "Janine, I'm sorry, but you can't honestly think I'd return your feelings. For fate's sake, I'm nearly thirty years older than you are—more than old enough to be your father. And more than that, I'm already married, in case you've forgotten. I've been married to Leslie for several years—very, very happy years. I love her deeply, and there's no other—never will be, never can be. If you think I'm of the age to experience what they call a mid-life crisis, and leave my wife and children to run away with a much younger woman, you should know that I've already been married to a much younger woman. And believe me, I didn't enjoy it at all. I was in love with Leslie even then and all I wanted was to get out of that marriage and be with her. We are both very happy together, and I'm sorry, Janine, but there's just no chance for you. You'll be far better off looking for romance with boys closer to your age. I didn't want to hurt your feelings or embarrass you, but I'm afraid you've pushed things too far." He shook his head and raked one hand through his hair. "Just please, go ahead and do the shopping." With that, he brushed past her and left the room, just short of running.

Leslie watched him rush by, but didn't dare go after him till she heard the sound of Janine closing the door behind her. Then she got up and followed him up to their bedroom, where she found him in front of the door to the deck, staring out. "Christian, my love, are you all right? That sounded like it must've been pretty nerve-wracking."

He turned to her and pulled her into a hard hug. "It was," he muttered.

"What happened?" Leslie asked gently.

"You heard her talking, I'm sure," Christian said, and she nodded. "She gave me a hug, which was on the edge of improper etiquette anyhow…but then she kissed me, and that was just too much."

Leslie's mouth dropped open. "She kissed you!"

"Not as you and I do," Christian said hastily, "just her mouth on mine, but it was still far too much. I had never expected her to be that bold, and it stripped away any pretense of calm I had left. I wanted no more than to get out of her sight, or get her out of mine, whichever happened first." He closed his eyes and growled softly in the back of his throat. "I should have discouraged her long before this. Never did I think she'd do such a thing."

"She's got guts, I'll say that for her," Leslie remarked wryly. "Wow. Oh, Christian, my love, I'm not blaming you, not at all. Sometimes you have to brand it into them to make them understand. If that message doesn't get through to her, nothing will."

Christian gave her a look of alarm at that. "Then it had damned well better get through to her, because I don't think I can take another scene like that!"

Leslie grinned and pulled his head down to kiss him, making certain that hers was wholly different from the prolonged peck he'd said Janine had tried to give him. Christian responded avidly, and the kiss grew into something leisurely and sensual, calming both of them over several minutes. When they at last broke apart, Leslie smiled and murmured, "Does that make you feel better?"

"Infinitely," Christian assured her with a smile. "However, if you don't mind, my Rose, I'd like you to deal with that girl when she gets back here with the groceries. I have no way of knowing what reaction she had, and I don't want to take the chance that she didn't get the message I tried to send."

Leslie giggled. "Okay, my love, I can do that."

When Christian and Leslie brought in the triplets in their infant carriers about ninety minutes later, along with one of Roarke's employees who trailed them with the stroller, they found Roarke alone in the study. "Ah, good, you're here!" he said warmly, rising from the desk. "My guest should arrive in a few more minutes. How are the triplets doing?"

"They're fine," Leslie said. "They got their first shots yesterday, and I was such a nervous wreck I pretty much made an idiot out of myself, but we all survived it. You might have some time to spend with them before Mariki and her staff get hold of them and start spoiling them beyond redemption."

Roarke chuckled. "They've been given a strict warning to follow yours and Christian's instructions regarding the babies' care," he said. "I've mentioned that feeding is entirely your department, but other than that they should simply heed your wishes."

"That's fine," said Christian. "They'll likely sleep fine in these carriers; they've lately started napping in them during the afternoons, which gives Leslie and me a little more freedom to get things done around the house. We need only take the carriers along from one room to another if we must. And I expect Leslie will be in and out of the kitchen frequently to check on them in any case."

Roarke nodded, sent the native man to the kitchen to get Mariki, and gestured at the chairs in front of the desk. "Please sit down, both of you," he said. "Once the triplets are in good hands and my guest has arrived, we can get down to business."

Mariki came back a moment later and beamed at sight of the Enstad family. "So we finally get to sit for these precious little babies!" she exclaimed happily. "I was beginning to think you didn't trust me, Miss Leslie."

"Only beginning?" Leslie asked in feigned surprise, getting a dark look from Mariki and laughs from Roarke and Christian. She relented and grinned. "They like attention, but they hate to be disturbed during their naps, so if they fall asleep, let them. You can just put them back in the carriers then. Otherwise, play with them to your hearts' content, all of you. If they start to cry and they don't need changing, come get us—they'll be hungry."

"Got it, Miss Leslie," said Mariki. "Well, then, let's give these little ones the grand tour. Don't worry, they'll be just fine." She hefted Susanna's and Karina's carriers and toted them off, with the young native man behind her bearing Tobias. Christian and Leslie stared after them, both startled by a sudden case of separation anxiety.

Roarke read their expressions and laughed. "They're never far away whenever you feel the need to look in on them," he assured them. "They'll have plenty of attention. One of Mariki's staff is facing sending her only child to kindergarten in a few more weeks, and apparently misses his babyhood; so I expect she in particular will lavish the triplets with more attention than they probably get even from the two of you." He smiled, then added, "And it might be wise to keep in mind that whichever triplet is bottle-fed at a given time, someone in the kitchen is likely to be providing said bottle."

"I knew it," Leslie exclaimed. "Another trip back in time, right? What's the story?"

"Patience, my child," Roarke said, amused. "I mean only that your babysitters will be eager to do more than simply play with the infants." He noticed the look on Christian's face. "You seem preoccupied, Christian. Is something troubling you?"

Christian looked up and sighed. "Ah, well, the situation with Janine finally came to a head." He described what had happened that morning while Roarke listened, and when he finished, Roarke nodded slowly.

"I see," he said. "And what happened when she returned, Leslie?"

"She stayed barely long enough to put the bags in the house," Leslie said. "She almost forgot to take the money, for that matter. Didn't say a word." She glanced at Christian, then remarked to Roarke, "It's going to be very interesting to see what kind of attitude she has when she comes back again on Tuesday."

"I daresay I won't be the one answering the door," Christian said a little stridently.

Leslie grinned and said, "Well, I can't blame you. She seemed subdued, but you never know what goes on in a teenage girl's head. I just hope that does it. It was really weird, Father, sitting there out of sight but hearing every word she said. She discombobulated poor Christian so badly, it's amazing he didn't react more strongly than he did. I wanted to go in there and remind her I still existed."

"It seems Christian himself did that perfectly adequately," Roarke said humorously. "Don't worry about it, Christian. You've made your position as clear as you can make it, and it's up to Janine to decide how to comport herself. My suggestion is that you simply forget about it now, and think about other things—such as this." With impeccable timing the inner-foyer door had opened, and now a wiry redheaded man walked in, looking for all the world like an overgrown leprechaun, a big grin on his freckled face. He wasn't homely, but he looked quite boyish.

"Hi there, Mr. Roarke!" he said cheerfully. "Can't wait to start my fantasy!"

"Indeed," said Roarke, amused. "Why don't you come in and meet my daughter Leslie and son-in-law Christian. This is Mr. Finn Greenstone of Worcester, Massachusetts."

Christian arose and shook hands with Finn Greenstone, resuming his seat while Greenstone then shook with Leslie. "Hello, Mr. Greenstone," he said.

"Just Finn," the guest said cheerfully. "Hi there, Your Highness and Mrs. Enstad. It's a real pleasure to meet you. I tell ya, it's perfect you're here."

"That it is," Roarke agreed, smiling. "If you'll pull the computer chair there over to the desk, we can let Christian and Leslie in on this particular fantasy."

"About time, I say," Leslie observed with a meaningful look at Roarke, whose smile widened. Christian chuckled and agreed with her.

Finn Greenstone took a seat and leaned forward, resting both elbows on the desk. "So how're we gonna do this, Mr. Roarke?"

"By beginning with a little history," Roarke replied. "Christian and Leslie, Mr. Greenstone tells me he is descended from an Irish pirate who undoubtedly would have remained lost to history were it not for one particularly daring deed. Because of that deed, his name was recorded by Mr. Greenstone's family as the ancestor whom they are able to trace back the farthest."

"Oh?" said Leslie curiously. "What'd he do?"

Greenstone grinned. "It's kinda notorious," he said. "It's probably not even his real name, just something his fellow pirates called him—supposedly because greenstone is what his sword hilt was made of." His grin faltered and grew sheepish when he slanted a glance at Christian, and added, "He used that sword to slay your ancestor, King Erik."

Christian raised an amused eyebrow and asked, "Which King Erik? We've had thirteen so far, you know."

Roarke and Leslie laughed, and Greenstone snickered. "The seventh, I think," he said. "One of your ancestors, right?"

The other eyebrow shot up to join the first, and Christian burst out laughing. "Fates have mercy. The seventh? Erik the Loser?"

Leslie sat up straight and let out a startled laugh of her own. "Hey, you never mentioned he was called that!" she exclaimed.

Chortling, Christian turned to her and explained, "He was given that nickname because he lost the first crown. It was one of the very few things about most of my more distant ancestors that I still remember learning in my Royal Comportment classes. Mr. Roarke, if you have more information than I do, please enlighten us."

The prince's amusement was clearly contagious, for Roarke was chuckling himself. "Of course, Christian. King Erik VII of Lilla Jordsö reigned for twelve years, from 1530 to 1542. As it happened, he was a mere ten-year-old boy when he inherited the throne, and it became his solely by virtue of his being the firstborn—for he was somewhat incompetent, as I understand it. At that time the plague had flared up in Lilla Jordsö and run amok through the country, killing almost ten percent of the population, including the boy's father, King Erik VI. As you might say, like father, like son, for the sixth Erik had also inherited the throne at the age of ten, and for the same reason. In any case, the seventh Erik's mother, Queen Gudrun, herself barely survived the plague, and it was well that she did, for she was required to guide the young king for the next eight years until he reached his majority. After that, Erik took over, and things began to go wrong for him almost from that moment."

"Like what?" Leslie asked.

"For one thing, he was very unlucky in love," Roarke said. "During his teen years he fell in love three times, and each time the young lady spurned him. It was said that he grew weary of the rejection, and thus deliberately never married, merely taking a long string of lovers from the castle's serving staff."

"That's right," Christian put in, "it just came back to me. From that point, we're all descended from King Erik VIII, the younger brother of Erik the Loser."

"Two brothers both named Erik?" Leslie asked, laughing.

"The elder was named Erik Hans Anders Kristian," Roarke explained, "and the younger was Magnus Erik Lars Oskar. Apparently Erik was a very popular name for many years in Lilla Jordsö."

"It was that," Christian agreed, grinning. "Which is why Erik was the last name on earth I wanted to give our son. Forgive me, Mr. Roarke, please go on."

Roarke smiled again and continued, "In any case, Erik the Seventh was a jocular ruler, a bit of a rake, and none too thrifty. He was also enamored of pomp and riches, and liked to show off the royal wealth. So…one day in the year 1542, Irish pirates were sighted off the coast, another occurrence in a long string of such events. Young Erik decided it was time to teach someone a lesson, and with this in mind he insisted on going out in a ship himself so that the pirates would know exactly whose territory they were trying to invade. He brought a full retinue of armed soldiers, wrapped himself in sumptuous royal robes, and even donned the crown jewels—which dated from the days of Queen Freyja II in the thirteenth century and had been fashioned at great effort and expense."

"Oh no," Leslie said, realizing what must be coming up.

Roarke laughed. "Yes indeed," he said. "Erik, in indulging his vanity and asserting his superiority, made himself a sitting duck. It was all too obvious to the pirates that they were dealing with the monarch himself—and of course, those crown jewels were too much for them to resist."

Christian nodded and put in, "As Anna-Laura told me a few years ago, one bold pirate leaped from his ship to the king's even as Erik was declaiming at them and telling them to leave his shores at once or suffer the consequences. He probably didn't even finish the sentence before the pirate drew his sword, skewered Erik with it and caught the crown on its way off Erik's head as he fell." He looked at Finn Greenstone. "I presume this was your ancestor, Mr. Greenstone."

"Yep, a guy named Glaschloiche—Irish for 'greenstone'. Like I said, I doubt it was his real name, probably came from his sword hilt. But it was the name the family took and kept ever since. They were proud of the guy. I got no idea why, though, because he didn't come home with the treasure."

"Exactly so," Christian said, grinning. "Your great-et-cetera grandfather tried to leap back from the royal ship onto his own, but by then the two had drifted apart, thanks to the never-quiet North Sea. Greenstone Senior misjudged the distance between the ships and literally fell short of his goal, right into the water, without ever coming back to the surface again. Unfortunately, he took the crown jewels with him. His brother, Erik VIII, had to wear a makeshift crown fashioned from iron at his coronation, and a proper replacement crown wasn't commissioned till late in his reign, just in time for King Lukas I—his son—to make use of it during his coronation."

"I thought you didn't know much about that particular king," Leslie teased him.

Christian admitted, "Well, in fact, after Anna-Laura mentioned Erik's death and loss of that crown, I realized she had said that the current crown dates from Lukas I's reign, and I remembered that there had been an eighth Erik between Erik the Loser and the first Lukas. It made me wonder, and I went online and looked it up. Anna-Laura's historical committee has a fascinating website that tells of assorted high points in jordisk history."

"Or low points, in this case," Leslie said, earning a laugh from Christian. "Well, okay then. So, Mr. Greenstone, exactly what are you looking to do with your fantasy?"

"I just want to go back and meet the guy," said Greenstone. "If it weren't for his killing the king of Lilla Jordsö, he'd have been just another nameless face on a shipful of pirates. Makes me wonder what sort of life he led that made him go out for piracy in the first place, and what came over him that he offed the ruler of another country like that. It just seems like there must be some hidden motivation that elevated him into a footnote of history."

Leslie nodded thoughtfully and looked at Roarke, who smiled. "Very well, then," he said, "we'll put you aboard his ship, Mr. Greenstone. I do have to warn you, however, that everything you see will be real—including weapons and any adverse weather you may encounter at sea. Life was quite a bit more brutal and primitive then than it is now, and you must keep constant watch about you at all times. Your best bet may be to find someone you trust—perhaps your ancestor himself—and cultivate a friendship. Thus you and that other person can watch each other's backs and allow for some rest time." Greenstone nodded eagerly, and Roarke added, "Also, one other thing. No matter what you may wish to change, it will be impossible. History cannot be changed, and it is futile to try. Your ancestor will still slay King Erik, and he will still misjudge the jump and lose the crown. There is nothing you can do to stop that—nothing."

"Got it, Mr. Roarke," said Greenstone. "I oughta tell you that I really didn't have any intentions of trying to change things, just wanted to see what really happened, maybe even get some more personal info out of the guy so we can put it in the family records."

Roarke smiled. "In that case, good luck," he said. "Now, if you'll allow me approximately one hour, I will send you back to the year 1542, and you will have your chance to get to know your ancestor."

Greenstone thanked him profusely, vigorously shaking hands, and left the house. In the meantime Leslie, with an ear out for any cries from her children, caught sight of Christian's expression and frowned a little. "What're you thinking, my love?" she asked.

Christian looked at her with a light in his eyes. "I'm beginning to have an idea," he said slowly. "Perhaps—" Roarke came back from seeing Greenstone out, and he turned to his father-in-law. "Mr. Roarke," he began, "perhaps you'd indulge me a question?"

"Of course, Christian, how can I help you?" Roarke asked.

"I think I'd like to go back myself," he said hesitantly, glancing at Leslie, whose eyes narrowed slightly. "Just to…to find out if Erik really was the loser history painted him as."

Roarke took in their expressions: Christian's hopeful, Leslie's a mixture of annoyance and jealousy. He waited, and sure enough, she couldn't hold still. "Without me?" she asked, sounding betrayed.

Startled, Christian whipped his head around to stare at her. "Well…" he began, clearly floundering for words. "Well…there are the triplets to consider…and," he added, inspiration seizing him, "Mr. Roarke did mention that you should expect another person to hold the bottle for whatever triplet is on…the…" His voice trailed off when her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"Christian," she protested, wounded.

Roarke leaned forward behind the desk where he had sat down again. "One moment, both of you. What sort of role would either of you play if you went back in time? How would you disguise yourselves to ensure that Mr. Greenstone doesn't recognize you? Do you feel it's a necessity for you both to go back?"

"But Leslie would be gone and there would be no way for the triplets to be fed, except via the bottle," said Christian, "and if she plans to continue breast-feeding till they begin on solid foods, then she can't miss a feeding if at all possible."

"That's a valid-enough argument," Roarke agreed, "but I repeat—how would you disguise yourself? What role would you play? It's not necessary for you to go back, Christian. Indeed, I submit that since it's your sister who's the family historian, as you've mentioned before, I would be more inclined to allow her to go back, were she here."

"But she isn't, and I am…and I can provide useful information for the family records," Christian said, sounding a little stubborn.

"Huh," said Leslie, folding her arms over her chest. "Do you see me investigating the history of the Hamilton curse? Heck no. I want nothing to do with any of that."

Christian raised an eyebrow at her and shot back, "This is different. And truly, you can't tell me you wouldn't be interested in going back and visiting your mormor."

Leslie reared back a little, stricken, and looked away. "Damn," she mumbled, mostly to herself, "I can't argue that point."

Roarke chuckled at that and said, "Perhaps I can allow you a short visit back, Christian, if you're determined to get a glimpse of your ancestor. But there's no reason for you to spend the entire weekend in the past. Mr. Greenstone will be seeing the past from his ancestor's point of view—which, if you'll consider it, was the opposing side from your point of view. Were it someone descended from one of the king's soldiers, for example, there would be somewhat more justification for you to go back."

Christian sighed gently and let himself fall back in his chair. "Ah well…I suppose a glimpse is better than nothing."

"And I could go back too," Leslie added, "if it's just a quick trip."

"No," Christian said abruptly, and then blinked and froze when Leslie gave him a stunned stare. He coughed and tried to backtrack. "That is…I wouldn't want you in the midst of whatever battle may be in progress…"

"Oh, and you think I want you in the middle of some swordfight?" Leslie retorted.

Roarke raised both hands. "Please, you two," he said. "Let me think about it, Christian, and in the meantime, suppose you both take a bit of a break, as long as Mariki and her staff are watching the triplets."

"Well enough," Christian agreed. "I'd like to drop in at the office anyhow and get an update on things." He looked at Leslie a little hesitantly. "If you'd like to come with me…"

Leslie, still feeling snubbed, gave him a frigid look and sniped, "Oh, I get to come to the office, but not back in time. Wow, what a great substitution."

Christian arose and threw his hands in the air. "Fine, then don't come. Excuse me, Mr. Roarke." With that he left, leaving his disgruntled wife behind, glaring at the wall.

"Leslie," Roarke said gently, "don't you think you overreacted?"

She sighed grumpily and said, "Oh, I'm sure I did. But really…" Leslie glanced at him and noticed he looked puzzled. "Okay, let me explain it to you. It's my job to do stuff like this, and everyone's excuse for not allowing me to is that I have the triplets to worry about. I can understand not spending the whole weekend there, but to be refused even an hour or two…I don't get it! Then Christian gets it into his head to go back, for no real reason he can come up with, and then says he doesn't want me there and gives this flimsy excuse! Well, fine, if that's the way it's going to be, what's the point in having Mariki and the staff sitting for the triplets in the first place?"

Roarke studied her for a drawn-out moment; she waited, returning his gaze. "What will you say if I let Christian go?" he asked.

"I'll ask to go too, of course," Leslie said promptly.

Roarke rested an elbow on the chair arm and smiled a little. "I suspect you want to accompany him solely out of jealousy," he said.

"Jealousy!" Leslie burst out, again bolting straight up in her chair.

"Precisely," Roarke said, the smile widening a bit. "The fact is, Leslie, you're beginning to feel constrained now, what with caring for the triplets. You may deny that you've started to resent being tethered to them, but it's very clear to me." He read her expression and lifted a hand. "Now, I am not saying you're regretting having had children—not at all. I know you love the babies very much. I simply think you didn't realize exactly how much effort is involved in caring for even one baby, let alone three at once, and seeing Christian begin to exert some of the relative freedom he has grates on your nerves. You want the same freedom, and it simply isn't possible, because at this age, the triplets need you more than they do Christian, on a physical basis." He relaxed. "Now…if I send Christian back, it will be for only a short time, perhaps enough for him to observe King Erik from a distance, and perhaps you can go with him. But I caution you to remember that I haven't yet made my decision, and no amount of badgering from either you or Christian will speed the process. Now, since Christian has gone to his office and you rather bluntly elected not to accompany him, perhaps you'd like to help me send Mr. Greenstone back to 1542."

"That, I can do," said Leslie. "Thanks, Father." Then she frowned and shook her head. "I just wish I could figure out why Christian doesn't want me to go with him…"