by Elaine Kehoe

The moonlight streamed through the window at just the right angle to softly drape Julia's face in a silvery glow, like a benediction, as she slept. His own soul too full for sleep, the man beside her lay watching the motion in her stillness. He watched the gentle trace of the light as it slowly moved along her cheekbone, watched the rhythm of her sleeping body as it rose and ebbed to her steady breathing. Her body, which had joined with his so passionately just a short time ago...!

Sitting before the radiant fire, they exchange a toast with glasses of sparkling wine. He holds out to her a small, beautiful antique box. "For you, Julia."

She looks at him uncertainly. "A gift, Barnabas? I didn't expect...."

He smiles. "It's something I want you to have--something I should have given you long ago. And if you will accept it, you will give me the best gift I could ever have."

She gives him a quizzical look, taking the box in her hand....

His skin still tingled at the memory of it. Their limbs intertwined like vines, curving together, motion for motion, the shared rhythm of their hearts like silent music, inseparable as shadow from substance, sunlight from sky. Her strength and independence, his pride and isolation, gave way like sand under waves to the power of unity and trust. He gazed at her quiet, peaceful beauty in the moonlight and felt wonder that this extraordinary woman had yielded so fully to him, with so much love; and how he had opened himself to her as she took him in, giving his body, mind, and soul to her as he never had to anyone.

The candlelight reflects blue fire from the delicate circle of sapphires and diamonds lying on the velvet lining of the box. Breathless, she looks up at him, her eyes half unbelieving, yet unable to hide the long-suppressed hope and denied feelings that begin to surface. His heart warms to see it.

"Barnabas...it's beautiful. But...?"

"Sapphires are your birthstone, are they not, Julia?"

"Yes..."

"And diamonds, they say, are forever. And that is what I want us to be--forever." He takes her hand. "I need you, Julia. I need your strength and intelligence, your beauty and courage...and especially your love. It's taken me far too long to realize this, but I can tell you now: I love you and I always will. And I need you always, as my friend and companion for all our lives--if you are willing."

She is silent, overcome. His hand under her chin tilts her face up gently; he looks into her tear-filled eyes and smiles softly. "Well, Dr. Hoffman--what do you say?"

"I love you," she whispers, her voice catching. "I love you so much."

"That is what I was hoping you would say," he murmurs, pulling her close. Then they say no more.

"Let us belong to each other tonight," he had said to her in the drawing room. "We are one now, Julia," he had whispered to her after their lovemaking. Yet even now it amazed him to feel the true meaning of those words. He had been in the world nearly two hundred years, but only now, for the first time, he felt complete--completed by another human being, one he loved who loved him, who had entered him and filled the hollows inside his body.

Even Josette had not made him feel this way. Josette...now she seemed as far away as she was in time. A lovely fragile memory, attached to an ugly past that was mercifully receding from his life. He had freed himself of it for the sake of the present and the future. Julia had given those to him. They were each other's destiny, two halves of one soul.

It was a blessing far greater than he deserved. Thank You, he prayed in his soul, feeling the oddness of addressing the source of all good from which he had been estranged for so long. But even as he said the words he felt his soul expand as though a new light had been born within it. If love could sanctify, perhaps he could yet attain absolution. It was the season of new hope, of love, of forgiveness, and he began to believe for the first time that there might be forgiveness even for him.

He was at peace. He didn't notice that the fire was dying out or that the moonlight was becoming obscured by clouds. And if on any other night the rising cry of the wind outside the shutters might have seemed to him to carry the sound of malevolent laughter, tonight he heard only the voices of angels.

"Thank you, Julia," he whispered, lightly stroking her hair. "Thank you for my life." She stirred and opened her eyes slowly, a beautiful smile slowly crossing her lips. "Barnabas. You're awake."

He kissed her forehead gently. "Merry Christmas, Julia."

"Merry Christmas, my love," she murmured, raising her hand to his face. He drew her to him as the soft warmth of Christmas morning enveloped them.

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