§ § § - October 9, 2009

It was their last time for this, and they both knew it; it made them feel a bit bereft, as though they knew they would never have this chance again. Roarke didn't seem to notice their shared downcast mien. "This time, as we arranged, you will be seeing the memories in each other's company," he explained. "That means you must decide which one comes first."

"It doesn't matter to me," Christian said.

"Then let's see yours first," Leslie said, and he smiled a little, nodding.

Roarke finally took note of their subdued aura. "I would have thought you two would be much more excited about this," he said quizzically.

"It's because these are the last ones," Leslie told him. "It's been so amazing, getting to peek into each other's pasts like this. I wish we could keep doing it."

"I admit, I wish for the same indulgence," Christian agreed. "I know you aren't prepared to continue, and it would be thoroughly rude of us to ask for more when you've already given us this incredibly generous gift. But you'll have to excuse us if we stretch these memories out for as long as we possibly can. Although that may take some doing on my part." His smile was rueful. "I chose one that stands out as little more than a few quick snapshots in my head, because I was so young at the time—only three. You'll get to meet Grandfather Lukas, my Rose."

Leslie brightened with surprise as Roarke offered, "I suspected you two would try to take the opportunities to introduce each other to someone you could never have known otherwise. Thus, I made certain you will see not just the conscious recollection, but the parts that have remained dormant in your subconscious minds since these events took place. Not only will you see each other's memories, but your own will be enhanced by these visits."

Leslie stared at him; Christian looked shocked, but there was a light glowing in his hazel eyes. "Will these...enhancements stay with us forever?"

"If you wish them to, they will," said Roarke. "Whenever you two are ready, you have only to go through the door." This time, they noticed, there was only one door before them.

Christian drew in a breath and flattened a hand over his lower abdomen, his face filled with wonder. "I can't believe it—I'm nervous."

"That's anticipation you feel, Christian," Roarke told him with a smile. "Feel free to narrate whatever you can recall for Leslie. Just enjoy the experience."

The light in Christian's eyes gave him the eager look of a little boy, endearing him that much more to Leslie. He gave her a childlike grin and urged, "Then let's not wait another second. Come with me, my Rose."

§ § § - November 30, 1961

"We should've worn coats," Leslie said, shivering a little. "It's the dead of winter." They stood in a spot that was familiar to her: the outdoor staircase leading to the courtyard behind the great entry, at the top of the steps, looking down at where an older man and three young children were romping through what was already a substantial layer of snow on the ground.

"I suppose we should at that," Christian admitted, "but I'm afraid I was too excited to think of that. Well, I can stand it if you can, and I'll try to keep you warm. Come with me, and try to guess who's down here." He grinned at her, wrapped an arm around her and made his way down the steps, which had been swept clean of snow.

"This reminds me of my childhood," Leslie remarked with a chuckle as they stepped off the last stone tread. To their amazement, they were able to walk through shin-deep snow without effort and without leaving tracks or any other trace of their presence, as if they were a pair of ghosts. "Oh, this is too much. Cold, but not covered with snow the way we would be in life."

"Your father and those powers of his," Christian said, grinning. "Well, here." He took her hand and led her closer to the group playing nearby. "You should be able to identify all these characters, I believe."

He wasn't surprised when her eyes landed on the more mismatched of the two pairs. "Oh, my love, look at you—you were so adorable!" she exclaimed, pulling him even closer to get a better look at the irresistible three-year-old boy throwing handfuls of snow crystals in the air. Wisps of dark hair peeked out from beneath a blue woolen cap with a huge yellow pompom on the top; the child's navy-blue coat was frosted with the snow he'd managed to shower himself with. Little Christian was chortling in pure delight, but it was just as clear that the older man kneeling in front of him was every bit as delighted just watching the little boy playing. Leslie turned to Christian to say something, but was arrested at the sight of her husband's face, his eyes glued to the grandfather he could barely remember anymore. Even as she watched, a sheen of moisture gathered in Christian's eyes. "Farfar," he breathed, as though unaware he spoke. He sank to his own knees a few feet away, staring and staring, as though doing his utmost to reinforce the nearly vanished recollection from which this scenario had been drawn.

Leslie crouched by Christian's side. "Christian, my love..." she began.

He blinked, as if he'd forgotten she was there, and smiled at her. "My Rose, meet my grandfather, King Lukas VI."

Leslie studied the man and realized he was a handsomer version of Ulf; he had an elegant mustache but no beard, and his laughing blue eyes were warm and sparkling. He had a relaxed, welcoming, contented air about him; this was the face of a man who felt he had everything that truly mattered in life. As she and Christian watched, Lukas addressed the little boy. "Here, Christian, let's learn to make snow angels."

"What's a snow angel?" the child asked, wide-eyed. They turned to look at him; he was still being coated with the last of the snowflakes he'd tossed into the air, and Leslie thought he looked like an exquisite little figurine inside a snow globe.

"Let me show you," Lukas said, rising—and then falling backwards into the snow, arms and legs spread wide. The little boy gaped; his grown-up self gasped and shot to his feet with a reflexive cry of protest.

"Grandfather, herregud, you could have hurt yourself!" he exclaimed, aghast.

"He didn't, my love," Leslie said, giggling; Lukas' sheer joy was contagious. "Look at him! He must have absolutely loved living! How old was he?"

Christian had to calculate. "Hmm...I was three here...this was probably late in 1961. I'm told we had a very early start to winter that year, and this snow looks fairly fresh. So Grandfather would have been sixty-seven."

"He was a kid at heart," Leslie speculated, watching Lukas laughingly sweep his arms and legs back and forth in the snow. "What an amazing man he must've been."

"I want to do that!" shouted three-year-old Christian, and his adult self and Leslie watched, both laughing helplessly, as the little boy leaped backward and landed flat on his rear end in the snow. Nothing daunted, the child flopped onto his back and began waving his arms and legs with enough energy to send snow flying.

They were joined then by the other two children: Carl Johan, eleven, and Anna-Laura, eight years old. "What's he doing?" Anna-Laura asked, staring at young Christian, as Carl Johan plowed through the snow and gave their grandfather a hand in getting back to his feet. Lukas caught sight of the little boy and laughed.

"That's his idea of a snow angel. Not so hard, Christian," Lukas instructed. "Take it slow and easy. Come here and let's start another one." He pulled the boy to his feet, moved him to a fresh patch of snow and helped him lie down, then instructed him while the child flapped his arms and legs in slower, more sweeping motions. "Yes, that's better."

"Is it a good one?" young Christian asked, sitting up.

"Let's see," Lukas suggested and took his hands, lifting him right into the air and set-ting him back on his feet beside him so they could both study the snow angel. "Ah, yes, you did perfectly! You make very good snow angels, Christian!"

"But can he make good snowmen?" Anna-Laura asked, grinning at her small brother.

"Or good snowballs?" added Carl Johan, packing one as he spoke. "When you have a lot of snow like this, Christian, you have to have a good snow fight."

"He's right," said Lukas conspiratorially. "Here's how to make a good snowball." He proceeded to show the little boy; Leslie, entranced, had a delighted smile on her face, while Christian had pressed one hand against his mouth, his eyes sparkling with tears and amusement at the same time.

They lingered for a good fifteen minutes, neither of them noticing when they began to shiver, watching as a playful snowball fight developed before Lukas corralled the children to assist him in building a snowman. The adult Christian trailed helplessly after his grandfather, taking in the man's face, speech, mannerisms, expressions, everything. Leslie found her attention divided about equally between her husband and his grandfather, thinking what a rotten shame it was that amakarna had taken Lukas before he'd had time to build more than a few fraying old memories with his youngest grandchild. She studied the way Christian stayed glued to Lukas' side, amazed that despite the dearth of actual memories he had of him, he still felt a connection to him.

Finally, having completed their snowman, Lukas lifted little Christian into his arms and patted the child's back. "Best we go inside; you're starting to shiver, my boy," he said with a smile. "But did you have fun?"

Little Christian nodded eagerly. "Let's do it again tomorrow, farfar!"

"We just might do that," Lukas said, chuckling. "For now, let's see if the kitchen staff has something hot for us to drink, and maybe there'll be a good old-fashioned fire in the sitting-room fireplace." The group headed for the stairs that led to the great entry; Leslie and Christian plodded along behind, with Christian clearly very reluctant to let go of the moment as long as he could hold onto it.

"Did we have hot cocoa?" murmured Christian aloud. "I wish I knew..." And at that point, only halfway up the stone steps, the whole vision dissolved around them and he stopped short with a gasp of protest. "But I wasn't ready yet..."

Leslie understood his wish to prolong the memory, but she had a feeling that whatever had taken place thereafter had escaped even his subconscious and was therefore irretrievable. "Think about it, my love," she coaxed softly, "you had a chance to relive the memory and enhance it. That all by itself is a privilege."

Christian closed his eyes and let his head droop. "You're right," he murmured. "Yet I still find myself wishing..."

"You must have been incredibly close to your grandfather," Leslie mused, rubbing his back as they stood in a featureless gray expanse with a door seemingly floating in front of them. "So close that the bond stuck with you even after most of your memories of him disappeared and you had to strain to hold onto the ones that were left."

"I'll never quite know how or why, but perhaps it was because he would have been the father figure I didn't have growing up," Christian admitted. "At least you had the chance to see him as I remember him..." He smiled wryly. "As I almost remember him, anyway."

"I'm glad I did," she said softly, and his smile warmed as he pulled her in for a hug. At last they let themselves back into the time-travel room, where Roarke still waited for them, sitting in the chair in the corner.

"I trust it was an enjoyable experience?" he inquired.

"I think I'm less likely to forget this memory, now that you've enhanced it and allowed me to relive it," Christian told him in a soft, grateful voice. "Mere thanks hardly seem adequate for this particular gift."

"You are very welcome, Christian," said Roarke. He let a few seconds elapse before taking in both of them and smiling. "Now, are you ready for your last journey? Leslie, why don't you tell Christian what memory you're escorting him through."

Christian laughed. "I had nearly forgotten, I was so caught up in my own thought. I'm sorry, my Rose—what will you show me?"

"I've talked about this before: helping mormor move into my room when I was seven. I mentioned how I had to share with Kristy and Kelly for the next year, till the fire happened. Now you get to see what I remember about helping to get her settled in."

Christian smiled. "Then by all means, let's see it."