§ § § -- March 5, 2005

Both Christian and Leslie had been unusually busy after the initial housecleaning, and Leslie had never been able to get back to handle disposal of the last few things remaining before the house went up for sale. The only thing she had been able to accomplish was the care of the cats; Tabitha had been more than glad to adopt them, and had expressed her sorrow over Mateo’s death and hope that Anna-Kristina would be able to find solace in returning home.

Now she and Roarke were at the plane dock with the triplets, saying goodbye to the departing royal family, and her mood was a little heavier because Christian was leaving as well. He hung back, seeing her expression, and when he had a chance he turned to her and hugged her hard. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured, “I’ve already been gone too long. I made up my mind the other evening that I’m going to put the fastest possible rush job on the hiring process that I can. I intend to be home again well before the end of the month, and when I get here I’m going to take a vacation—at least a week. I deserve it.”

“You should spend time with the triplets anyway,” Leslie said, nodding. “How fast do you think you can do it?”

Christian said determinedly, “I’m giving myself ten days and no longer. I’m going to cheat and pull Jörgen out of my Sundborg branch to help. He’s been with me long enough to know what qualities I prefer in a prospective employee, and he can go through half the candidates I’ve chosen for interviews.” His expression softened then at her grin, and he kissed her gently. “I can also set aside the problem of replacing Mateo. Anton turned out to have all the qualifications necessary for the manager’s position, and I have no doubt he’ll do an excellent job. He’s assured me they can manage till I get back and have a chance to advertise the opening for another repair specialist.”

“Good,” said Leslie. “Since you plan to be on vacation after you come home, you can take your time going through applications and picking out someone you like.”

“Exactly so,” Christian agreed and kissed her again. “For right now, though, I’m afraid I’d better go. What would you like as a souvenir from Santi Arcuros?”

Leslie looked up at him and had to smile. “Well, preferably you,” she said, making him laugh softly, “but if you insist on bringing me something, you could get me a doll in national costume, for my collection. I somehow neglected to do that way back in ’93 on my first-ever trip to Arcolos, and I think it’s time that oversight was corrected.”

Christian smiled and promised, “Consider it done, my Rose. As soon as we’ve settled into our rooms at the castle, I’ll e-mail you and let you know we’re there, and once I’ve got a little more rest and made arrangements with Jörgen to make the trip, he and I will leave for Santi Arcuros on Tuesday. From there I’ll call, because Errico claims to have an antique computer that balks at even a mere mention of Internet capability, and I suppose I’ll have to at least replace it for him in the middle of the hiring frenzy.” They chuckled. “Any message you’d like me to take to Michiko?”

“Just tell her to e-mail me—she’s been lax on that lately,” Leslie said. “And oh yes, ask Errico where that blasted wine is. It still hasn’t gotten here!”

Christian blinked. “No? Well enough, then, I’ll tell him I won’t replace his computers till he gets that wine on its way here, and if necessary I’ll stand by whoever does the actual packing up and shipping and make certain it’s done. He knows we had a deal.” Leslie laughed at that, and he hugged her one more time. “Before the family comes out here and bodily drags me aboard the plane, I’d best get going. I love you, my darling, and I promise to be home within three weeks at the most.” He bent down and gave each triplet a kiss atop the head, planted one last kiss on Leslie’s lips, called a goodbye to Roarke and half ran up the ramp to the waiting charter.

On the way back to the main house some fifteen minutes later, with the plane well on its way to Honolulu, Roarke looked curiously at Leslie. “Were you ever able to return to Mateo and Anna-Kristina’s house to finish cleaning?”

“No, things got kind of crazy,” Leslie said. “I’ll probably do it Monday. Ingrid should be able to handle the triplets for a few hours after they have breakfast, and I’ll drop over there and see what needs to be done.”

She kept her word; on Monday morning around ten or so she left the triplets in Ingrid’s capable care. The babies were used to her and she enjoyed playing with them; Leslie and Christian had encouraged her to speak her own tongue with them, to help reinforce their dual-language instruction. Leslie was happy that Susanna, Karina and Tobias had some measure of independence now; once the morning breast-feeding was complete, she could leave them with Ingrid on her days off and do food shopping or whatever else might need to be done.

In about twenty minutes she pulled onto the side of the road in front of the little one-story house, which somehow looked forlorn and abandoned to her now that Mateo had died and Anna-Kristina and Natalia had made the move to Lilla Jordsö. She let herself in and took a quick look around. The boxes destined for Lilla Jordsö had been shipped out already; the remainder of them, Leslie thought, might fetch some cash at a yard sale. She’d gotten the go-ahead for this from Anna-Kristina, and her friends had agreed to help her organize and run it; of necessity it would have to be held on a weekend, but Leslie hoped to be able to drop in on it frequently and monitor its progress.

The only things that hadn’t yet been packed away were Mateo’s clothes and a number of personal effects, all still in the bedroom. She headed that way, with a strange feeling of loneliness, as if the seeming abandonment of the house had reflected on her. The furniture looked stark, without afghans thrown over the back of the sofa, magazines on the end tables, a centerpiece on the kitchen table, or sheets on the bed. Her footsteps echoed on the wood floors, and she absently noted they could use a polishing.

Though it felt a little like intruding, she made herself take down shirts and pants on hangers, remove the clothing and fold it into a box, and set the hangers aside for possible inclusion in the yard sale. When the closet was empty, she left the door open a bit and began to empty out dresser drawers, discarding a few things and saving the rest, trying all the while to remind herself that she wasn’t some nosy intruder, no matter what it felt like.

The last drawer contained rolled-up neckties and a couple of stacks of neatly folded handkerchiefs, which turned out to smell just like the interior of the drawer. Clearly Mateo hadn’t used them for a very long time. They were clean, anyway, and she cleared them out, then nearly dropped the final stack when the unmistakable crackle of paper echoed gently off the walls as she scooped it out.

Leslie turned the stack of handkerchiefs over and noticed a sheet of paper tucked under the bottom one, folded twice. She put the handkerchiefs in the box of clothing and turned the page over and over, frowning. Finally she shrugged and unfolded it, then went very still when she realized that she was holding a letter that dated from almost thirty years ago. The paper, like the handkerchiefs it had lain under, bore a slight woody scent, and she wondered if Mateo might have forgotten this letter was here, for it was his.

Dear Mateo, I’m glad you’ve been able to get work with Mr. Roarke. It makes me feel much better to know that you’ll be able to provide for yourself. I’ve been so worried about you. It’s hard to know you, son; you were always so quiet, so self-contained. But I can see your strength, and it makes me so proud of you.

The best way you can honor my memory, son, is to keep on living. That’s the answer to the question you asked me the other night. Stay in high school and get your diploma, work hard, and you’ll have a secure position in Mr. Roarke’s employ, like your father before you. Just do your job and do it well, be a hard worker and a conscientious one, and you’ll succeed wonderfully. And if you ever have a chance to marry and have a family, then do. I know it’s hard for you, but don’t deny yourself that kind of happiness.

I’m so proud of you, Mateo. You’re my rock, solid and steady. You’re a breeze that refreshes my existence in this place. My only son. Take care of yourself, for me. Come and visit me sometimes when I’m gone, please. With much love, your mother.

By the time Leslie finished reading she had to blink back tears, and at the same time found herself wondering. Where had Mateo’s mother been when she wrote this? What had she been dying of? A rock, she’d called him, a breeze. The two images clashed in her mind, yet she could immediately understand what Mrs. Apana had meant. Mateo had always been dependable, reliable, “solid and steady” as the letter had said; yet he’d kept her life fresh, and he’d made Anna-Kristina’s life fresh, too. Had it not been for Mateo, Anna-Kristina might well never have learned a few valuable lessons—the most important of them all being her love for him, the love that had overcome her father’s determination that she marry someone without flaws.

The steady rock, the fresh, gentle breeze. A zephyr, Leslie thought fancifully. Mateo had been that, all right, and more that perhaps most people would never know about. She folded the note and slid it into her pocket to mail to Anna-Kristina later, smiling as she went on with her work.

There will be more Fantasy Island stories in the future…I promise! (Ideas are still welcome!)