San Francisco, Summer 1971 

Willie had been right on two counts: Stephens was tall, and he was handsome, but he definitely was not dark. Barnabas had just assumed…Julia had cared for him for so long- he had thought that Stephens would look more like he did. But although he had been a sailor as a young man, he had never looked like he had belonged on a Viking ship the way that this man did. He had to keep reminding himself that there were many facets to Julia Hoffman, and his knowledge of her likes and dislikes barely scratched the surface of a very complicated woman.

“It is nice to meet you, Dr. Stephens,” Barnabas said as the two men shook hands. “Julia has told me you two are old friends.” His face ached from the smile he had pasted on it.

“Oh? Have you known Julia long? She’s never mentioned you.”

He felt like he had been given a good swift kick in the gut. His eyes narrowed as he tried to deduce a motive for Stephens’ statement, but the man’s perfect features belied nothing but complete innocence.

The three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, and Barnabas could feel Julia seething beside him. Anger emanated from her like heat rising from the pavement on a blisteringly hot day. The tension was interrupted when a young waiter in a shirt covered with colorful tropical fish approached Barnabas and asked if he wanted a drink.

“Scotch, please.” He had never been much of a drinker, but he knew he needed something strong if he was going to survive this evening.

Stephens glanced at Julia who was staring at the picture of a coral reef on the wall behind him. Receiving no signal or assistance from her, he finally asked her odd friend to have a seat. Julia literally fell into her chair, a rag doll. The men sat on opposite sides of her, a pair of mismatched bookends, one young with a face full of sunshine, the other older and darker in looks and mood. One side the sun, the other the moon.

“Where are you from, Mr. Collins?”

“England, originally.” Julia shot him an incredulous look at that old chestnut. “But I live in Maine, now.”

“So that is how you know Julia?”

“Yes.”

Both men kept their eyes on the redheaded doctor, waiting for her to join in and facilitate the conversation, but she avoided their gazes and persisted in her study of Caribbean coral reefs.

“How long will you be visiting San Francisco, Mr. Collins?”

“That is still undetermined at this point,” he answered, sneaking another look at Julia.

“Are you here on business?”

Before he could fabricate some kind of answer to the question, Barnabas was saved by the appearance of the waiter. He gratefully accepted his drink from the young man whose shark-shaped nametag announced that his name was Toby.

“And you live here, Dr. Stephens?” Barnabas asked, using the interruption as a chance to change the subject.

“Yes. Have you ever been to San Francisco before?”

“No, I’ve never had the opportunity.”

“Have you had the chance to look around the city yet?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. I just arrived today.”

“Well, it really is a beautiful city.” He looked over at Julia. “Perhaps while you are here, Julia and I could show you around.”

At that comment, Julia choked on her drink and began to cough. Stephens leapt to his feet and began vigorously slapping her on the back. “Julia! Are you all right, Schmoopie?”

Barnabas’ eyebrows shot up, and he wondered if his ears were still feeling the effects of air travel. Had he heard that right? Had this man just called Julia Schmoopie?

Julia took several deep breaths to gain control over her coughing before replying.

“Yes, I’m fine, Schmoopy,” she said with a small reassuring smile.

Collins felt his face drain of all color at her answer. Up until this point, he had been sipping his drink, but he promptly downed the Scotch and hailed a passing Toby to order another one.

In the moment of silence that followed, Barnabas’ mind became a whirling dervish of thoughts and images. He didn’t realize the effect the alcohol was having on his empty stomach nor did he realize that this was compounded by his jetlag. All he knew was that Julia and a strange man had just called each other by pet names and had done so in his presence. She had never called him anything other than “Barnabas” (although there were probably a few other terms she had wanted to call him on occasion). But then again, he had never given her any reason to use any endearments for him. Now he found that he wanted her to call him something special that was just between the two of them, something private that would not be shared with other people.

He took another sip of his drink and moved his tongue around his dry mouth. He needed to stop thinking of Julia’s relationship with this man. “So Dr. Stephens,” he managed to say, “What kind of medicine do you practice?”

“I’m a psychiatrist,” the young man answered proudly. “Just like Julia.” His smile was broad and disarming as he took Julia’s hand in his again.

Julia started to speak but paused as something beyond their table caught her eye. She stood up as a tall handsome woman with gleaming silver hair strode toward their table. Barnabas estimated that the woman was in her early sixties, but she was on the arm of a much younger and extremely good-looking man. Collins briefly wondered if older women dating younger men was de rigueur in California.

“Julia, Stephen! Look who I found wandering around the lobby!” she announced in a well-modulated and commanding voice.

“Hello, Hugh! How good to see you again.” Julia stepped forward to embrace the young man who appeared to be roughly the same age as Stephen Stephens. He was tall with a thick thatch of reddish brown hair, and when he greeted Julia, Barnabas heard a pleasant Southern drawl that flowed like warm honey from his mouth.

Collins stood for a moment feeling like the fifth wheel that he evidently was. He watched as Julia turned to the older woman and as Stephens warmly embraced the man Julia had called Hugh. After what seemed like years to Barnabas, Julia’s friend turned to him with a curious but friendly look.

“And who do we have here, Julia?”

The doctor abruptly lost the good humor brought about by the new arrivals, and Barnabas could hear her unspoken sigh in every word. “This is Barnabas Collins. Barnabas, this is Dr. Sylvia Stephens and Hugh Caldwell.”

Barnabas exchanged greetings with the newcomers, knowing that the woman was examining him closely.

“Julia has told me quite a lot about you, Mr. Collins. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Plainly confused, Collins looked over at Julia as he answered. “She has?”

“Why, yes. And all about your family’s lovely estate. Collinwood, I believe?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“It sounds absolutely magnificent, Mr. Collins. Julia says it was build in the late 18th century, is that right?”

“Yes, Collinwood was built at the very end of that century.” He couldn’t help but wonder what Julia had told this woman. Surely, she didn’t know all about him and-

“I’m very interested in New England and early American architecture. I would love to see Collinwood.”

“If you are ever in Maine, please be sure to visit us, Dr. Stephens. Any friend of Julia’s-”

Julia Hoffman abruptly stood, jostling the table and causing some of their drinks to spill. “I’m terribly sorry to have to change our plans at the last minute,” she blurted out, nervously, completely ignoring the mess. “But Barnabas and I have some urgent business to discuss. Would you please excuse us?”

Barnabas was stunned. She had spurned him, ignored him since his arrival, and now she wanted to talk to him alone. He rose slowly, feeling the Scotch burn in his stomach and course through his legs, making him question his ability to stand. The world swam for a moment, and the fish motif of the bar seemed a little too real as he blinked several times. When his focus returned, he saw that the men at the table were looking at Julia in surprise while Sylvia Stephens seemed extremely concerned about her friend’s sudden announcement and intentions.

“Julia-” the woman began.

“I apologize but something has come up…Stephen, Hugh, it was so good to see you again. Perhaps we can-”

Sylvia would not be put off. “Julia, is everything all right?”

The two women exchanged a long look before Julia spoke again. “Yes, of course. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“That will be fine. Good night, Julia, Mr. Collins.”

Barnabas nodded his head politely. “It was very nice meeting all of you.”

Julia grabbed her purse and stole one more glance at the table. “Good night, Stevie.”

*****

She did not speak to him on the way to her room; it was like walking beside a stranger. He followed her silently, worried about the tightlipped expression on her face and confused about the people they had left behind in the bar.

She fished for several moments in her purse for her room key, muttering curses he had never heard her use before. Her fingers finally closed around the key, and she jammed it mercilessly into the lock and stalked into the room. Throwing her purse on the bed, she turned to face him. Her slender body shook with such anger that she was temporarily incapable of speech.

Barnabas reached into his pocket to touch her glove - for courage - and decided to take advantage of her silence and plunge ahead. It was better than the tongue-lashing he knew was coming.

“Julia, who are those people?”

His unexpected question seemed to take some of the wind out of her sails, and the emerald fire in her eyes dimmed in intensity for the time being. “That, Barnabas was one of the most respected doctors in the field of psychiatry. Stevie Stephens was my mentor in medical school.”

“Your mentor? But, Julia, that man is several years younger than you are. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Julia stared at him and then threw up her hands in disgust. “That man ? Barnabas, have you learned nothing in all the years you have known me? Dr. Sylvia “Stevie” Stephens was my mentor, not Stephen! Don’t you know the riddle about the boy who is taken to the hospital after a car accident?”

He just looked at her, trying to decipher what she was trying to tell him. “No, I’m afraid I do not, Julia.”

She stood with her hands on her hips and recited the riddle in an exasperated voice. “A man and his son are in a car accident. The father dies on the scene, but the child is rushed to the hospital. When he arrives the surgeon says ‘I can't operate on this boy, he is my son!’ Now, how can this be?”

He continued to look at her mutely.

“The surgeon is the boy’s mother, Barnabas. A woman. How sad that in this day and age, most people are still confused by that riddle, including you.”

The light of recognition finally went on in Barnabas’ eyes. “She was your mentor?”

“Yes, and I don’t know what I would have done without her. Medical school was very difficult for a woman when I attended. It was almost impossible at the time Stevie was becoming a doctor. She is a remarkable person.”

“But who is Stephen?”

“He’s her son, Barnabas.”

“Oh. He seems very taken with you, Julia.”

She looked at him, and then understanding his implication, she began to laugh. “You think Stephen and I…? Oh, Barnabas, you can be so dense at times.”

He was stung not only by her words but by her reaction; she was actually laughing at him.

“It was a perfectly logical assumption, Julia,” he said, puffing out his chest a bit in his own defense. “You’ve been talking about Stevie Stephens for months, and I find you alone with a young man named Stephens in a bar-”

If she hadn’t been so amused by his mistake, she would have crossed the room and slapped him soundly. But he was so hopelessly old-fashioned, so, well, so 18th century .

“Barnabas, Stephen is involved with someone else. He’s not interested in me.”

His face was blank.

“Barnabas, Stephen and Hugh are partners.”

She watched as this information permeated his thick skull. His face evolved from an expression of puzzlement to one of understanding, his dark eyes finally widening when the truth came to him.

“But…but, you called each other by those names…”

She wrinkled her brow in confusion before understanding his reference. “Schmoopy ? Barnabas, Stephen was still a young boy when I first met him. I spent a great deal of time at Stevie’s house, and Stephen and I got to know each other well. We’ve been calling each other ‘Schmoopy’ since before he could shave.”

“Oh.” Feeling foolish, he looked down at his hands, spinning his onyx ring in lazy circles.

“Now, are you going to tell me what the hell you are doing here?”

Part Twelve