Fan Fiction
I do not own the copyrights to Fantasy Island
Seadh according to the internet is a Scottish word for Yes (if that's wrong blame Google)
Answers
Ch. 2
Sean MacDonald
Tables and chairs along with items needed for the games were being set up as Roark drove up. He'd opted to meet his second set of guests at the fields where the games would be held simply for the practicality of it. They were not alone; No, the gentleman had come with friends and family. Hence, it was not a small group. Therefore, the MacDonald clan had flown in on a commercial airline and then rented cars to get themselves to his part of the island. Mr. Roarke's eyes fell on the oldest member of the clan, Sean MacDonald.
"My family and I want to reunite with my son. We haven't heard from him in thirty-two years. If that is not possible; we'd be happy with the nearest closest relative of his -that is if he ever married. However, please do not tell him, or them, we have come to the island. If they are to run, I want that at my feet not yours." Roarke hadn't agreed but neither had he argued even though he had been unsure on what basis to bring Sean MacDonald's relation to his side of the island- until Catherine had come into the picture. Now the old gentleman had arrived on the island with a large part of his immediate family, along with more than one cousin.
Sean MacDonald was closing in on ninety. His six-foot two frame was now bent with age, and he walked with a cane. His eyes still held full knowledge of the world around him- including every single member with him. It was only his wife who was not with him. His wife, Aria, had planned on coming but had fallen ill and passed away unexpectedly; still the family had honored her dying wishes; therefore, their trip to the island had not been canceled. Sean's three sons, a couple of nephews along with other relatives were already setting up their tents.
"Mr. Roarke." Mr. MacDonald walked up while being watched by all members of his group. "Were you able to..." The old man found himself unable to finish his sentence.
"Yes and no." Mr. Roarke held up his hands when Sean began to open up his mouth. "I'm sorry, but your son passed away two years ago. However..." The magistrate continued on. "I think I have found his widow. There is a lady who lives on the other side of this island and is flying in tomorrow morning. She has no idea your family is here. She will only be told an old friend she met while living in Tennessee is here, which my other guest is- she flew in this morning with her own fantasy involving the woman I believe to be your son's wife. I am sure if the two visit and you, or a member of your family, overhear them talking together then you will know for sure if I am right or wrong."
"Will your other guest's fantasy interfere with us getting answers?" Sean asked wearily; he felt as if his family was so close and yet so far in getting them.
"As long as she doesn't bolt, then no. Her friend wants her involved in these games." When asked what her name was; Roarke shook his head. Sure, it wasn't as secret to people like himself and Catherine, but to Sean? "You'll figure it out easy enough. My other guest is not exactly the quiet type. Nonetheless, if your son's wife bolts from her and leaves this island; she does not need you to be tempted to follow. Besides, if I am wrong, it would have done you no good to tell you ahead of time."
All eyes widened as Roarke explained he knew for sure the old man's son had been married twice and that he and his second wife had always been highly involved in highland games back in Washington and Oregon before he'd taken ill. "Won a number of the games too, or at least according to reports given to me they had. But since her husband's passing; well, my sources say your daughter-in-law has not joined in on them, nor has she sung or played her instruments." Roarke then insisted Sean, along with his whole clan, promise they'd not make a forceful move towards her once they realized who the lady was.
"She must not be made to feel threatened, bullied or any feelings along those lines. I will not attempt to get her back if such a thing is done."
"We...I... made that mistake with my son thirty-two years ago." Sean MacDonald spoke as he straightened himself once his clan was gathered for his own voice carried itself as well as Catherine's. "No one will be doing that again."
"Aye, we promise not to push." Came out of more than one mouth along with few using the word seadh. Roarke then left to check on a stage he hoped Christy could find it in herself to perform on.
"Let's sit down." William came up and tapped his father's shoulder.
"You can." Sean shook his head. "I'm taking a walk."
Sean's feet took him to a small boulder just big enough to allow the old man to sit down and lean against his cane. Gentle waves rolled across the ocean and the sounds rolled up across the water, over the sand up and up to the gentleman's ears. It caused a deep sigh as words from the past rolled into his ears.
'I am not the father of Sandra McBean's child!" Sean-Patrick's long black hair blew around his face as his jaw set firmly in place; he'd not yelled but his voice was firm without an ounce of budging. "And she's not right in the head. If people would watch her closer, then they'd see that for themselves." His crossed arms budged as much as his voice.
"Oh, come on lad." Sean thought he knew all his sons -even if he was gone from home more than he cared to admit. "It's okay if you slipped like your cousins and older brother. Man up, take on some responsibility."
"I'd man up if the child was mine." Sean-Patrick hissed. "However,..." Stressing the word however. "...we never did anything which could cause that to happen. I don't sleep around."
There had been other words spoken, which only served to fuel the fire in his son's whipping around, storming off to the garage, hopping in his truck and speeding down the road. It was the last time anyone had seen Sean-Patrick. A single tear fell as the old man let out a sigh and whispered, "I hope his widow does not bolt, that is if that is who Roarke has indeed found."