§ § § - October 1, 2009
"Oh, that was cruel!" Anna-Kristina blurted, half laughing despite herself; the triplets were shrieking with glee, and Christian was shaking his head in amused disbelief while Roarke and Leslie laughed with the memory. Anastasia stared at them all, then gurgled as if offering her own opinion. "Poor Tattoo," Anna-Kristina added. "To think he couldn't defend himself against a chimpanzee..."
"Chimps can punch like you wouldn't believe," Leslie assured her. "Tattoo was lucky all he got was a black eye. And something tells me it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't tried to dress up Chester. But I have to tell you, we were all relieved when Tattoo's cousin took Chester home with him after Tattoo married Solange. I think Father always had it in the back of his mind somewhere that one day, that chimp would be the reason for a gigantic lawsuit. I just hope Chester and Hugo lived happily ever after."
"True love forever?" Christian offered with a raised brow, which made Leslie burst out laughing. Anastasia squealed with delight at the motion when Leslie tipped to one side, weak with mirth at the idea Christian's remark had planted in her head.
Anna-Kristina dug an elbow into his side. "Uncle Christian, really!"
Christian winced and threw her a look, then started to laugh too. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. So, a couple of other questions. First, did Mr. Weiselfarber really come back and return permanently to post-World-War-I France?"
"He did at that," Roarke said, "the following April. History tells us he and his Monique had several children and passed away within a year of each other in the late fifties, around the time you were born, Christian."
"Ah, I see...and my Rose, that blue letter you referred to that he was reading?"
"It turned out to be from Helena Marsh," said Leslie softly, resettling herself and wrapping both hands around Anastasia's tummy, leaning down to nuzzle her baby daughter's hair. "I forgot about it in the excitement of David and Helen Hanks' wedding. It was the last weekend before Helena came back with Jamie to marry Father."
Christian nodded understanding; Anna-Kristina glanced back and forth among them, as if afraid to ask. Tobias ended up doing it for her. "Who was Helena Marsh?"
Leslie traded a quick look with Roarke. "She was almost my stepmother."
She watched her children look at each other in amazement. "What about your real mother, though?" Susanna protested. "I saw a picture of her."
Christian caught her arm, making her twist her head around to stare up at him. "Not now, Susanna. We'll tell you another time, all right?"
"I suggest you do it now," Roarke offered, patting Tobias' shoulder as he spoke. "It's grown late enough for you children to be in bed by now; in any case, you have school tomorrow, and your baby sister is already falling asleep." Leslie had settled a drowsy Anastasia onto her shoulder, her eyes a little distant.
"We'll go to sleep if you tell us," Karina begged hopefully.
"Don't make your mother sad, Karina," Anna-Kristina advised her cousin. "For now, we should just go home. I'm sure they'll tell you when they have more time." To Roarke she said, "We'll do this again soon, won't we, I hope?"
"Of course we will," Roarke assured her. "For now, I hope you'll sleep well, and we'll see you here for breakfast tomorrow."
§ § § - October 2, 2009
"So did you explain to the children?" Roarke inquired the following morning. Anna-Kristina had come along with Christian and Leslie to the main house, after dropping off the triplets at school; Anastasia was sound asleep on Leslie's shoulder, having awakened her mother for a wickedly early feeding and then gone back to sleep when it was too late for Leslie to do the same.
"We tried to put it in terms they would understand," Christian said, smoothing Leslie's hair as he spoke and they strolled slowly toward the table on the veranda. "They all tried to comfort Leslie when she explained the story of how Michael set the house fire that killed Shannon and Kristy and Kelly, and we even played that old cassette tape for them—the one Shannon left Leslie in the safe, that we traveled to California to retrieve seven years back. They got quite a kick out of hearing the voices, but Karina said she wished she could meet Shannon as she met Mother, and I'm afraid that upset Leslie."
Anna-Kristina was staring at him as they sat down around the table and Leslie laid Anastasia in a baby carrier. "What do you mean by that? Karina never met Grandmamma—even Aunt Leslie never met her."
Christian sighed and traded a tolerant glance with Leslie. "Fortunately for you, you'll be here long enough for us to explain a few things to you. We'll tell you after breakfast, after you've taken your first dose of the serum."
Roarke nodded and said, "Rogan should be here anytime with the vial. Meantime, let's go ahead and begin the meal. I'm sure you're all hungry."
Rogan appeared about midway through breakfast and handed Anna-Kristina an old baby-food jar about a quarter full. "That's your first dose. I'll bring the others around during those meals. Leave some on your plate, so that when you take this, you'll have something to chase away the aftertaste."
"I thought you said you tried to make it better," Leslie said.
"Och, cousin, tinkering can do only so much. I think Her Highness here will be able to tolerate it better than her sister did, though." Rogan grinned. "When you're ready."
"No brogue today?" Christian inquired, grinning.
"It's Friday, not Saturday," said Rogan, and they all laughed. "I've got to get back—let me know how it goes." Christian and Leslie assured him they'd keep him posted, and he loped off the porch while Anna-Kristina examined the liquid in the jar. It was a dark shade of green that didn't seem to match anything found in nature, and the princess had a dubious look on her face that made Christian grin with resignation.
"Go ahead, Kattersprinsessan, you may as well take the plunge now. Otherwise we'll just have to find a jar of amakarna and shake it on what's left of your food," he said.
To his surprise, Anna-Kristina sucked in a breath through her nose and directed a foul look at the jar. "No more amakarna," she growled, and with that twisted the top off the jar and gulped back the contents before anyone else could move.
Roarke, Leslie and Christian all watched her closely while she swallowed the last of it; she sat as though frozen stiff for a second, eyes screwed tightly shut, before making a gruesome face and reaching for her morning coffee cup. "Ödarna i sina slott, va' greselig!"
"Hideous?" repeated Christian for Roarke's benefit. "Even Magga didn't call it that."
"But Magga made the same revolted faces," said Leslie with a grin. "I guess the agave and papaya didn't help much."
"It was as if someone added all the world's most bitter liquids to a tiny bit of fruit juice," Anna-Kristina said, groaning and setting down her coffee cup with a thunk. "Mr. Roarke, I know this will sound truly horrid, but tell me...did anyone turn out to not tolerate this after they tried to take it? I mean...did their stomachs send it back?"
Leslie giggled. "You mean did they throw up, right? Well, one thing I can tell you, if you do happen to vomit it up later, you'll be the very first one."
Anna-Kristina's expression twisted even more, and she muttered, "It would be just my luck if I were. Ach, I remember thinking how bitter coffee was the first time I tried it when I was ten or eleven years old. Coffee tastes like wine compared to that."
"And just think, only two more doses to go," said Christian with a grin. "Just keep remembering the goal, Kattersprinsessan. I think we'd best finish; I'll go into the office for the rest of the morning, but I'll be here for lunch."
Anna-Kristina found it progressively harder to down the serum throughout the day. After taking the second dose, she demolished half a pitcher of pineapple juice, astonishing even Christian; and at supper she waited till dessert arrived before pinching her nose shut to belt down the last dose. It was immediately clear that this didn't help much; she barely managed to swallow the last mouthful before gagging, clapping her hands over her mouth and turning away. The triplets stared at her; Karina looked frightened, Tobias began giggling, and Susanna made faces. Anastasia, sitting in a high chair between Leslie's and Karina's chairs, clearly thought it was a game and chortled alongside her brother.
It took poor Anna-Kristina almost ten minutes to settle back down; she caught her uncle's and aunt's worried stares and croaked, "At least Mr. Roarke didn't have to see all that." Roarke was attending an island council meeting.
"Eat some cheesecake," Leslie suggested. "That's thick and creamy enough to help get rid of the aftertaste. But don't push it—wait till your stomach's ready."
"I'm not sure it will be," Anna-Kristina muttered. "I'm just glad I'll never have to drink any more of that horrible stuff again. After all this trouble, it had better work!"
"It'll work," said Christian, who had eyed his niece with a comical mixture of doubt and concern while she was wresting with the serum. "I really have to wonder how much of that carrying on was real and how much of it was designed to amuse the children and any incidental passersby." Leslie snickered, stifled it, and told Tobias to stop laughing.
Anna-Kristina glared and growled, "Uncle Christian!"
He rolled his eyes tolerantly. "Just like your childhood. Fate only knows what lies in wait for us now, when you've hammed it up this much just taking the stuff."
"I deserve some kind of award just for getting it down my throat, if you ask me," his niece retorted. "Such as...perhaps another fantasy memory."
Christian paused, met Leslie's gaze and commented, "Now I know it was all an act." Leslie burst out laughing, and Anna-Kristina's glare intensified, which just made Christian start to laugh as well.
But Leslie was amenable enough to sharing another memory, and after the meal they decamped to the study, where once again Christian and Leslie used the prospect of a story to bribe the triplets into donning pajamas and brushing their teeth. "That won't work every time," Anna-Kristina remarked while Christian was upstairs supervising the latter activity. "They're not dumb, Aunt Leslie. Sooner or later they'll catch on."
"We know that, and you know that, but so far they don't know it," Leslie said with a grin, and Anna-Kristina laughed. "But maybe we'll let one of the kids choose the kind of memory they want me to dredge up. I'll have to do this completely alone, I guess. Father's not due back here till after they're supposed to be in bed for the night."
But just as Christian was returning to the study with the excited triplets surging down the stairs ahead of him, Roarke unexpectedly returned, surprising them all. "I thought you'd be late," Leslie said, watching him come into the room and remove his suit jacket, laying it over the back of one of the leather chairs.
Roarke glanced at her and smiled; for the first time, his gradually deteriorating condition was noticeable. "I am afraid it was necessary for me to plead fatigue," he admitted, taking a seat beside Anna-Kristina, who was holding Anastasia this time. "However, I was able to bring up your idea of an administrative staff to carry out the stewardship duties you otherwise wouldn't be able to handle, Leslie. Christian, your notes were invaluable; the idea met with unanimous approval."
Christian chuckled. "I suppose it's a good thing Leslie made me translate them, then. I must admit, I'm a bit surprised, but then again, perhaps the council is as worried as Leslie about the upcoming transition. Well, enough of that...Anna-Kristina says she deserves to be rewarded for choking down that serum, and has asked for another trip through memory."
"So you're just in time to help Aunt Leslie tell about one," Anna-Kristina added.
Roarke, looking amused, glanced at her and then at the triplets. "I suppose you three would like to hear another story as well."
"I want a scary one," Tobias blurted out as his sisters were nodding eagerly. "I wanna hear all about the fantasy that was the scariest, Mommy."
"Aren't there several contenders for that title?" Christian inquired with a grin.
"There are," Leslie said, grinning back. "But there are different kinds of scary. You can be scared by monsters, or by buckets of blood and guts, or by something even more insidious—mind tricks. And probably the creepiest fantasy I can remember witnessing had to do with one of two famous people we had here in the same weekend." She cleared her throat and peered at Roarke. "To be honest, though, I don't know if the kids should be hearing this one. I mean..."
"What's the problem with it?" Christian asked.
"There are some erotic elements to it," Leslie said carefully, deliberately using a word the triplets wouldn't be familiar with. "If they were teenagers, it might be different, but they're only five—and there are some things you just don't tell little kids. Look." She turned to the triplets, who were clearly on the cusp of protesting loudly. "I know you want a scary story, Tobias, and I've got plenty of good ones for you. But this one isn't good for little kids, and if you three promise to go to sleep tonight without a lot of fuss, I'll tell you all about a scary fantasy that involved a little girl not much older than you."
The children's expressions grew pouty; then Susanna asked, "What's erotic mean?"
Roarke chuckled silently and shook his head, and Christian frowned. "It's a word that you're too young to know about yet," he said firmly. "Your mother just promised you a special story all your own for tomorrow. I think you should say that yes, you'll wait to hear that one, and then you're going to bed."
"But we don't have school tomorrow," Tobias protested.
"We'll be up early anyway," Leslie reminded him. "We have fantasies, remember? It's better you go to bed. Don't argue with your father. Come on, Anastasia, you too, sweetie." She gathered up the baby and smoothed her hair. "Let's go."
"Well, which one do we get to hear?" Karina finally asked as the triplets reluctantly trooped up the stairs behind her. "You said there's a little girl in it."
"And a scary bad guy, too," Leslie said, seeing Tobias light up at that. "I'll tell you that one tomorrow, because Daddy's already heard all about it. You can think of it as a special kind of ghost story just for the three of you."
"And not even Stina gets to hear it?" Susanna asked.
Leslie grinned. "Why? What if she wants to hear it?"
"That'd be mean to make her not hear it if she wants to," Karina said. "If she wants to, we should let her."
"Yeah," Tobias agreed, and Susanna made a face but subsided. Leslie had to smile; at least she's smart enough to know when she's outnumbered! she thought.
When she returned downstairs alone, Christian eyed her. "You're going to tell them about that Maori god, I presume?"
"That's the plan," said Leslie. "Good memory, my love. Tobias and Karina stuck up for you if you want to join us and hear that one, Anna-Kristina."
Anna-Kristina laughed. "That was nice of them. But how about this one for the adults, now? You've made me so curious, I really want to hear this."
"You said there were two famous people?" Christian inquired.
"You might or might not have heard of them," said Leslie. "One was on an old 70s TV show, and the other was a ventriloquist. But here, let's tell you about it, and we'll see if you recognize the names."
§ § § -March 8, 1980
The tall, handsome man with the well-groomed mop of straight pale-blond hair was instantly familiar to all three of them as he popped out of the seaplane's hatch and started down the dock toward the clearing. "Is that Jungle Man?" Tattoo asked excitedly.
"Yes," Roarke assured him, glancing at his assistant and his ward and reflecting with private amusement that they'd probably both be looking for autographs that weekend. "Mr. David Farley, the actor, is no doubt better known as Jungle Man than by his own name."
"What has he been doing since the TV series ended?" Tattoo asked curiously.
"Very little, my friend. Playing the role of Jungle Man typecast him so badly that he hasn't been able to find any work at all for the last two years."
"But I read about him making personal appearances at fairs and things like that," said Tattoo, looking puzzled.
Leslie nodded. "Just last month I heard he was at some big comic convention in Los Angeles or somewhere. He's not actually a has-been."
"Yes, he was making his living that way, for a short time," Roarke agreed, "but now even that activity has been forbidden to him."
"Forbidden?" repeated Tattoo incredulously.
"What for?" Leslie wanted to know.
"Well, you see, the producers of his old series own the name 'Jungle Man', and they have obtained a court order barring Mr. Farley from ever appearing anywhere in his former role or costume." Leslie watched Farley peer anxiously around him and then stare at Roarke with a hopeful look. "So," Roarke continued, "it is Mr. Farley's fantasy to have one last grand adventure as Jungle Man...the role he came to love more than his own life."
Leslie and Tattoo looked at each other, wondering how far Farley's real-life existence had deteriorated; but before either could comment, out came their other guest—also an easily recognizable entertainer. "Ah...that young lady is Miss Mary Ann Carlin," said Roarke, as the pretty dark-haired woman—carrying a female dummy decked out in a stovepipe hat and the top half of a tuxedo—accepted assistance with disembarking. "Possibly the most famous ventriloquist in the world."
Leslie nodded in recognition, and Tattoo added, "I remember her—I saw her act in Paris. She's fantastic, she's wonderful!"
"How come she's here instead of out touring with her act?" Leslie asked.
"She's ostensibly here for an engagement in the Fantasy Island supper club," Roarke said as a good-looking man stepped out behind Mary Ann Carlin. "But she's actually come to us with a much more serious problem."
Tattoo looked incredulous. "What problem can she have? She's young and beautiful, and she's a great success!"
A little ominously Roarke explained, "Miss Carlin fears she's paying too high a price for that success. You see, every person has a complex system of behavioral patterns which we call personality. Some patterns are good, some bad." He sighed gently. "In the case of Miss Carlin, she has divided too many of her personality traits with her puppet, Valerie."
"Are you saying that part of her personality lives in her puppet?" asked Tattoo, wide-eyed with disbelief.
"Precisely," murmured Roarke. Leslie squinted at him, wondering how that could be possible; after all, Valerie was only a wooden ventriloquist's dummy...wasn't she?
"What's her fantasy, then?" she asked.
"To separate herself from this Jezebel half of her personality, at least for this weekend, so she can sort out her life and determine which of her personalities is dominant. What she must face is very dangerous." Leslie supposed, in silence, that he must be right; she had been watching Mary Ann, Valerie, and their male companion as they came into the clearing, and she'd seen Valerie's mouth move and Mary Ann addressing the puppet as though the two were having a conversation.
"It sounds like some kind of mental disorder to me," she ventured, daring a look at her guardian to see what his reaction would be.
"There's more to it than that," Roarke told her. "If she should fail, the Valerie part of her personality could become the instrument of her own destruction." As if compelled, all three of them shifted their eyes to Valerie—who, even despite being merely a wooden puppet, suddenly looked strangely—and sinisterly—alive.
The arrival of the native girl with Roarke's champagne flute startled Leslie and Tattoo out of their reverie, and they both managed smiles as he toasted their guests; but Leslie had a sneaky feeling that it was going to be one of their more unusual weekends. How, after all, could a puppet—just a carved and painted block of wood, after all was said and done—be the possessor of its own personality...or part of someone else's? It was a question she decided she preferred not to know the answer to.