Collinwood, September 1971 

“Barnabas, did you mean what you told me about that song?”

The two of them were dining at one of the finer restaurants in Collinsport. Barnabas had chosen this particular establishment for their first “date” because he knew that he could trust the owner to respect their privacy. The last thing he wanted as their fledgling relationship got off the ground was Julia worrying that the local gossips were going to be chattering about them over their backyard fences the next day.

He looked over at her amazed that she was finally here with him. In fact, he couldn’t stop looking at her. It was a warm evening, and the light green short-sleeved dress she wore accentuated the green of her eyes. He also appreciated the short length of the dress and the unusually high-heeled sandals which favored her slender legs.

“Somewhere?” he asked. When she nodded, he reached out and took hold of her hand. “Yes, Julia, I did. I still remember the first time I ever heard that song. You were singing it in the Old House while you worked in the laboratory…” He paused and looked down at their linked hands. “I’m sorry, Julia, I shouldn’t bring up such painful memories-”

“I think we had better establish some ground rules right away, Barnabas,” she interrupted him. “We’ve known each other for a long time now. And for most of that time, we have dealt with some terrible things. We have done some terrible things. But in many ways, those events have made us who we are today. And who else can we share them with besides each other? We have to be able to talk about the past without worrying about it, Barnabas. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he said squeezing her hand before continuing. "I heard you singing that song in the cellar, and it touched me. For one thing, I enjoyed the pure simplicity of your singing; it seemed like such a wonderfully normal thing in a house that had known little of normalcy for far too long.”

She looked at him, surprised that her singing as she worked had touched him so. If only he had shared more of his feelings with her during those times, perhaps their relationship wouldn’t have taken so long to develop. She mentally shrugged off those thoughts; it did no good now to worry about how things might have been between them.

“And when I listened to the words, they seemed to be speaking to me, speaking about my life. Do you have any idea how many times I heard you sing that song, Julia?”

She shook her head. “I’ve always loved that song, Barnabas. I’ve always loved West Side Story.” She wasn’t ready to tell him about the other song from that musical that had often been on her mind. “But it wasn’t until the night you are talking about that I realized how much that particular song meant to me. And I didn’t realize that I sang it often, either.”

“Oh, you did, Julia.” His face softened into a half-smile with the memory. It made him look so handsome and endearing that she felt a flutter in her chest like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. “In all the different times we went to. We always seemed to be in so much danger, but then I would hear you singing it or humming it, and it would calm me.”

“I had no idea that song meant so much to you, Barnabas.” She was frankly astounded by what he was telling her. When he had brought up the song during their confrontation in San Francisco, she had been completely mystified. She hadn’t wanted to believe his revelations then, but his mention of Somewhere had lent credence to his story. In her anger, she had pushed it to the back of her mind, but once he had gone, his reasons for telling her about the song had plagued her. It was one of the reasons she had had to see him again.

He lifted her hand to his lips and held it there for a long kiss. “More than you know, Julia. More than I knew.” His eyes were so dark and so clear that she felt as if she was looking directly into his soul.“ And I came to associate it with your perfume as well.”

“My perfume?” Now she was truly aghast. He had never in the past mentioned anything remotely as personal as her perfume.

“I’ve never told you this before, Julia, but I have always found the scent of your perfume to be very soothing. It reminds me…” his voice faltered for a moment. “It reminds me of the flowers my mother used to grow in her garden. It brings back…some lovely memories.”

The back of her throat ached from her effort not to cry. Damn the man. Not that long ago, she had been furious with him. Now after only a few minutes with him, he had turned her into a mound of quivering Jell-O. How had she thought she could ever leave him, the only man she had ever loved, especially once he had told her he loved her? 

“It took me a long time – far too long – to understand the true meaning of Somewhere for me…for us.”     

She shook her head with a warning glance. She didn’t want him revisiting the mistakes he had made in their relationship, and she didn’t want him constantly apologizing to her. She only wanted to move on and to start exploring their love with him.

He squeezed her hand in understanding and gratitude. “But when I heard the song after you had left for California, it was as if the words came alive for me. I knew then that you meant everything to me – and that you have for a very long time.” 

His unspoken, Forgive me, lingered in the air between them, and she decided she had better find her voice. “It shall always be a very special song for us, Barnabas.”

“Indeed it shall,” he agreed. He longed to hold her at this moment, and he glanced over at the restaurant’s small dance floor. “Would you dance with me, Julia?”

She wanted nothing more than to be held safely in his arms, but she shook her head. “No, thank you, Barnabas. Not tonight.”

He was surprised and disappointed by her refusal. “Do you not care for dancing?” It occurred to him that he knew so much about her and yet so little. 

“Oh, yes, I love to dance. I haven’t had the opportunity in quite awhile, but I used to enjoy it very much. But I’m not …ready yet, Barnabas. I hope you can understand.” 

She was telling him the truth without spelling out her reasons in great detail. She just couldn’t tell him that she was afraid that being that close to him would lead to other things. And she just wasn’t ready for those things yet. When she had told him that she needed to go slowly in their relationship, she hadn’t been toying with him or trying to hurt him. She had been telling him the truth. If someone had told her even six months ago that she would now be refusing to dance with Barnabas Collins, she would have scoffed at them.

“Yes, I understand, Julia. And I can wait.”

It wasn’t going to be easy, but he could wait. He could wait because the expression in her eyes that he had longed to see for months now was back. When she looked at him, her wide, exotic eyes once again glowed with the warmth and love that he had come to depend upon seeing there. For so many years, he had failed to realize the strength he derived from her feelings for him, the feelings that were always evident in those green depths.  Now he wanted nothing more than to drown in those emerald eyes, to bask in the love that shone there.

Oh yes, he could wait.

*~*~* *~*~*

Barnabas Collins was true to his word.  Julia needed for their relationship to proceed slowly, and he obliged her.  It wasn’t easy – there were many nights he made use of a cold shower in his new master bathroom – but he was willing to do as she asked.

On Labor Day, they had gone to a concert at the Collinsport Memorial Park.  The band had played Sousa as well as many other patriotic tunes under a cloudless September blue sky.  Barnabas and Julia had sat on a blanket beneath a sprawling oak tree that was probably younger than Collins himself.

Julia had watched his rapt face as the band had played rousing renditions of “The Stars and Stripes Forever” and “America the Beautiful”.  She was only now beginning to understand how much American history really meant to him.

Earlier, they had discussed the college courses he was starting in the next few days. He had been excited about the history courses he was starting with, particularly his Colonial America class, but was a little more worried about the education courses that were required of him.  She had chuckled imagining him as a student teacher at some point in his college career.

As the days of September grew shorter and colder, the two of them saw each other in between her hours at Wyndcliffe and his classes at the university.  They went to lunch or dinner together, took walks through the woods or along the shore, and drove up and down the coast to enjoy the canvas on which the artist Autumn was painting. 

Other times they spent at the Old House simply appreciating each other’s company.  Barnabas enjoyed watching Julia as she sat in the drawing room in what he thought of as her chair.  She belonged in this room, in this house; she always had.  For the first time in his many years, he believed there had been a reason for his curse; it had allowed him to live long enough to meet the one woman he had come to realize was his true soul mate.

***

The old theatre smelled vaguely of must and most definitely of greasy buttered popcorn.  Julia smiled as she glanced around at the faded burgundy velvet seats through the half-darkness.  Heavy dust-laden curtains of the same material framed the large screen, and ornate sconces that reflected yellow light were spaced along the peeling ivy laced wallpaper.  This had once been an elegant movie house where residents of Bangor and its surrounding communities had eagerly lined up to see Clark Gable or Bette Davis or Jimmy Stewart on the silver screen.  Now it was an aging relic relegated to showing older films at discount prices. 

It was pure serendipity that she had discovered that “West Side Story” was running at this old dinosaur in Bangor.  The question had been whether she wanted to tell Barnabas about it.  The film contained a song that had become extremely personal for them, and she wondered whether she was ready for them to see this intense and tragic movie together in which the characters did not live happily ever after. 

In the end, she had decided that she was actually eager for this experience with him.  They had spent a great deal of “quality” time together in the past few weeks. They had been getting to know each other in an entirely new way as normal people do who were in love.  Yes, she had been scared, more scared than she had even let on to him.  In a musical frame of mind, Henry Higgins’ words, adapted to her situation, had even come to her one night after he had brought her back to Collinwood, and her emotions had been raw and on fire:

“I was serenely independent and content, before we met 
Surely I could always be that way again, and yet,  
I've grown accustomed to his looks  
accustomed to his voice  
accustomed to his face!” 

(“I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face”, Music by Frederick Loewe  with lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner)

She had decided that if crusty old Henry could admit that he could not go backwards in his feelings, she could admit the same thing. And that left going forward.

“I imagine this was once a beautiful place,” Barnabas whispered into her ear as he watched her looking around the theatre. 

“Yes, it must have been.  And when business was better, I bet it was a lot warmer in here, too,” she answered with a shiver.

He slipped an arm around her shoulders pulling her close to him, and she snuggled against his arm.  Their physical relationship had gone no farther than handholding and hugs, but he was desperately trying to make do.      

“You’re still not entirely comfortable with movies, are you, Barnabas?”

“No, I’m not.  I enjoyed live productions very much when I was younger, but there is just something about motion pictures that bothers me.  I don’t know quite how to explain it,” he said with a shrug. “But I am quite anxious to see this film.”  He kissed the top of her head as the lights went down; a loud whistle rang out and then the powerful overture filled the theatre.

From the first moment, Barnabas fell under the spell of the film.  He was entranced as the gripping drama unfolded, expertly told through electrifying songs and energetic dancing.  He was impressed by the striking visuals – the vivid background colors and costumes, the stark brick, pavement and graffiti of the Manhattan streets.  But it was the music and the way it set the mood that awed him the most – the jazzy, Latin backbeat of some of the songs, the plaintive melodies of others.  He could easily identify with this story full of love, passion, violence, and the inevitability of tragedy.

“This young woman has a marvelous voice,” he observed to Julia when the character of Maria finally began to sing. 

She nodded in agreement not bothering to explain that the singing voice he heard did not actually belong to Natalie Wood.  Nor did she explain that Anna Leonowens, Maria and Eliza Doolittle, characters in three different musicals, all had exactly the same singing voice.

As the movie continued, Barnabas was particularly moved by the words of “One Hand, One Heart”: 

“Make of our hands one hand
 Make of our hearts one heart
 Make of our vows one last vow 
Only death will part us now

Make of our lives one life
 Day after day one life

Now it begins, now we start
 One hand, one heart
(Even) death won't part us now.” *

“What lovely words,” he whispered to Julia who, equally moved, was surreptitiously wiping away tears.

Soon after that scene, Julia decided to share another of her secrets with him.  “In addition to ‘Somewhere’, I used to sing this next song to myself quite a lot,” she admitted in a muffled voice.

His curiosity piqued, he listened carefully and felt his heart break remembering what his life and Julia’s had been like under his curse.  He could well imagine her thinking of these words as she waited for him to appear each night after sunset:

“Tonight, tonight
I'll see my love tonight
And for us stars will stop
Where they are

Today the minutes seem like hours
The hours go so slowly
And still the sky is light          

Oh moon
Grow bright
And make this endless day
Endless night.”*

But it was, of course, the singing of “Somewhere” that affected them both the most.  Barnabas tightened his hold on Julia as Tony and Maria sang of their hope of someday finding a new life together. And by the end, as Tony died in Maria’s arms, Julia was openly crying, and Barnabas was swallowing back the painful lump in his throat.  The thought of losing Julia, of his being left alone like Maria, hit too close to home.  He never wanted to be without her, his only love.

***

After the movie, they walked to a small coffeehouse a block from the theatre.  As always, they sought out the table that would give them the utmost privacy, one where they could concentrate solely on each other.  A waiter with long black braids took their order, and when Barnabas did not even blink at the young man’s appearance, Julia knew that his classes were doing much more to acclimate him to the fashion and cultural trends of the 20th century than Collinwood ever had.

“Oh, this is a darling little place,” Julia exclaimed as she looked around at the rather bohemian atmosphere of the shop.  “It reminds me very much of a unique little restaurant Stevie and I discovered in New Orleans.”

When she turned back to Barnabas, he was trying unsuccessfully to banish the scowl that her mention of New Orleans had brought to his face. 

“Barnabas?  What’s wrong?”

He looked past her for a moment before meeting her eyes. “Nothing, really, Julia.  I was just remembering…when you went to New Orleans.  I was terribly worried about losing you.”

They had had plenty of opportunities to talk in the past few weeks, and both had shared much of what they had felt during the time their relationship had been strained.  They had even been able to share a laugh over Barnabas’ jealousy of Stevie, and Julia assumed he was referring to that situation once again.

She reached across the table and took both of his cool hands in hers.  She had already apologized to him for leading him on regarding Stevie (although it really had been just too easy), but she felt that she needed to tell him again that she was sorry.  “Barnabas, that whole business with Stevie – I am sorry that I let you believe-”

He gave her a queer little smile.  “Oh, Julia, I can understand why you did that.  And my jealousy did help me realize my feelings for you so I am not entirely sorry that I assumed that you and Dr. Stephens were involved.  That is not what I was referring to.”

“Then what about my trip to New Orleans upset you?” she asked confused.

He looked down in embarrassment and wondered how to tell her. “To tell you the truth, Julia, it was your comment about the beads,” he blurted out.

“The beads?”  It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about.  “Oh my God,” she cried, covering her mouth with both hands when it finally dawned on her.  “Oh, Barnabas, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

The queer smile was back.  “I haven’t been able to forget about it since you mentioned it, Julia.”  She was surprised to see a blush rise on his cheeks.  “The vision of you…I’ve had many dreams...about those beads.”

It was Julia’s turn to look down at the table.  On the one hand, she wanted to laugh that he had been so haunted by her teasing of him.  On the other hand, she was quite pleased and touched that she had had this effect on him.  The thought of him dreaming about her baring her breasts at Mardi Gras brought a tingle to body parts that she hadn’t used in a long time.  She felt her own face warm with a pleasant flush and wondered when she would be ready for more.

“Did you enjoy the movie?” she asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Yes, very much, Julia.”  He was also glad to be talking about something else.  “It was quite similar to ‘Romeo and Juliet’ as you had explained to me.  I must say I have never had the opportunity to see anything quite like it – the singing, the dancing.  And seeing those lovers sing ‘Somewhere’ and then lose each other …” He took her hand in his once again, interlacing their fingers.   “It is a film I will never forget.”

“Nor will I, Barnabas,” she whispered.       

Later, as they rose to leave, a tall young man with orange corkscrew hair came through the door.  Barnabas was reminded of a conversation he’d had regarding redheads in Bangor, and he turned to Julia with a mischievous look.

“Julia, do you know the Bangor McIlheneys?  I hear they are a lovely family.  Well, all except for the youngest one.  He’s a redhead, you know, and ….”

Barnabas continued this topic of conversation as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, and the doctor stared at him, wondering if he had lost his mind.

***

A brilliant, fat moon watched them as they strolled from the car to the door of Collinwood.  Barnabas slipped his arm around her waist and began to hum a jaunty tune under his breath as they walked along. The song sounded familiar to Julia, but she was having trouble placing it.

It was her turn to ask the question he had asked her one long ago night in the cellar of the Old House.  “What song is that, Barnabas?”

“Hmmm?”

“That song you’ve been humming.  What’s the name of it?”

“Oh, it’s just something that I heard on that radio station David listens to.”

She turned to face him as they reached the door and noticed that the edges of his mouth were curled up in a slight smile.  “You don’t know the name of it?” she asked suspiciously.

“No, I don’t think I recall.  But I just can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

“Uh huh.  Barnabas-”

“Julia,” he interrupted, his voice dangerously deep and seductive.  “May I ask you for permission to kiss you goodnight?”

A slight nod and shy smile were his answer as her question about the song was quickly forgotten.  Slowly and reverently, he reached out to cradle her face in his large hands as her hands came up to rest against his chest.  He began with a light kiss until her reaction to his touch emboldened him to press his mouth more firmly against her inviting lips. 

Their response to each other was immediate; they were two rivers which had run side by side for so long, and now they came together to form one, stronger, more powerful force.  Julia’s world itself became fluid as Barnabas’ hands dropped to find her waist, drawing her closer to him. Her hands went tightly around his neck, and he moaned into her mouth as she wound her fingers through his sleek hair.  His mouth was soft and warm and tasted of peppermint.  His hands were magical, roaming up and down her back, stroking her sides and caressing her arms.  This close, his scent was intoxicating – fresh, clean, spicy – but also comforting. He was and always would be her safe harbor. 

She wondered briefly why she no longer needed to breathe, but his kiss was all encompassing.  As long as she was in his arms, she needed no air, no food, no shelter.  His love provided all of the life support she would ever need.    

As he held her and kissed her and loved her, she felt a remarkable sense of peace settle over her soul.  His love was a baptism which dissolved all the years of hurt and blessedly washed them away. She felt cleansed, purified; he was drinking her in - and healing her as he did so.

He was drinking her in.

Julia abruptly pulled back from him, trying to dam up her runaway emotions before they overflowed.  The two of them stared at each other breathlessly, each heart beating in a staccato rhythm.  She knew another moment in his arms would lead to the Old House  - and from there to a night in his spacious four poster bed.       

“Good night, Barnabas,” she said in a husky voice as she attempted to bring her breathing back under control.

Unwilling to let her go just yet, he cupped her flushed face in one hand and gazed at her.  The bright moonlight shimmered like strands of gold in her auburn hair.  She looked like Diana, like Artemis, goddess of the moon, clothed all in glowing white light.  He had not wanted the kiss to end, but it had told him what he had wanted and needed to know; his patient waiting was coming to an end. 

“Good night, my love,” he answered softly. 

Slightly dazed, she turned to enter the house his own father had built, and as Collinwood’s heavy door closed behind her, Julia could hear him again humming that maddeningly familiar tune as he walked away.

*Songs from “West Side Story”, music and lyrics by Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim, respectively.

Part Sixteen