Although he hadn’t wanted to admit it, he had been afraid that Julia would decline his dinner invitation. Their relationship had been more than strained recently; it had been virtually non-existent. Yet here she was, sitting across the table from him with a glass of wine in her hand.

“I was rather surprised to receive your invitation, Barnabas.” Julia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms without relinquishing her hold on the crystal wine glass.

“And I was surprised to learn that you had gone to San Francisco.”

Wrong answer. He knew it as soon as the words left his mouth, and his fear was confirmed by the flashing green of Julia’s eyes.

He heard the ugly sound of her chair scraping against the floor as she started to stand. “Barnabas, if you have asked me here to-”

“Please, Julia,” he pleaded, his hand quickly reaching across the table to capture hers before she was out of reach, both physically and emotionally. “Please sit down. I asked you to dinner to make amends, not to anger you further.”

Her expression softened, but she still looked wary as she slowly lowered herself back into her seat. “Make amends?”

“Yes, Julia, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted when we first returned from 1840. I have missed your friendship - very much.”

He watched as a look of surprise appeared on her face. He had, in fact, been watching her closely since he had picked her up at Collinwood. She had changed since he had seen her last. She had cut her hair short again, and that along with softer make-up made her appear younger. He was sure he had never seen the simple but elegant black dress she wore; he certainly would have remembered the low neckline.

But there was more than just a change in her physical appearance. Julia seemed more self-possessed, more aloof and distant from him than she had been since the stormy beginnings of their relationship. Her attitude reminded him of the times she had been standoffish with him because she was trying to hide something from him - like her relationships with Tom Jennings and the ghost of Gerard - and these memories caused his stomach to do a nauseating little flip.

Her silence encouraged him to say all that he had intended to say to her. “I know I was inconsolable over Angelique’s death when we returned to the present, and I know how hard it must have been for you to listen to me talk about her, Julia.”

Her expression went from surprise to complete astonishment; he had never shown such consideration for her feelings before. “You do, Barnabas?”

“Yes, Julia. I have had a great deal of time to think about this since you and I have seen each other. I have realized that I was very confused in my feelings for Angelique. I may have been grateful for her help, and I cannot deny that for some reason, she always had a strange effect on me, but I did not love her. I now think that when she died, I was feeling the final loss of my original life, and that is what I was mourning, not Angelique. Do you think that could be what happened, Julia?”

She was virtually speechless. He had wailed and moaned in 1840 when the witch (Julia would never think of her as anything less than the witch despite her apparent loss of powers) had died in his arms. He had wailed and moaned when they had come home, speaking morosely of how he would never see those blue eyes again, until Julia had wanted to vomit. And now, here he was psychoanalyzing his actions. And doing a pretty damn good job of it, she had to admit.

“I think that makes a great deal of sense, Barnabas.”

He smiled for a moment at her before growing serious again and continuing. “ I know she did terrible things to you, Julia. You had every right to despise her, and it was selfish of me to burden you with my grief, misguided though it was.” He reached across the table and took her hand once more. “I am so sorry that I drove you away, Julia.”

He saw her glance down at his hand atop hers. She did not pull away, but the emotion he was used to seeing in her eyes when they were together was definitely missing. His stomach did that nasty little flip thing again.

“Barnabas, are you telling me that if Angelique were to somehow return, as she has a way of doing, that you would not want to reconcile with her?”

“No, Julia, I would not. After much reflection, I now understand that my feelings toward Angelique, although very complicated given our long history, never really changed in 1840.” His face and voice hardened as he recalled all that he had lost. “She took everything from me, Julia. She did not even have the mercy to let me die and rest in peace. She condemned me to a life worse than death, a life that most human beings do not even believe exists. I want Angelique to stay dead and buried.”

He increased the pressure of his hand on hers as his eyes became dark with emotion. “Can you forgive me, Julia? You are my good friend, and I do not want to lose you.”

Julia’s eyes widened at his words. Did he realize he was repeating her own words to him? The words she had used to plead with him about not trusting Angelique in 1840? Apparently not.

“Of course, Barnabas,” she said, covering his hand with her other one. “You haven’t lost me.”

The smile that spread across his face seemed to erase centuries of worry and sadness. Julia could not help but be touched by his happiness. She disentangled their hands and raised her glass in a toast: “To old and good friends.”

“To very dear friends,” he agreed softly, his eyes shining. His relief at the resumption of their friendship made him feel almost giddy. He finally felt that the mantle of winter had been lifted and that spring had truly arrived for the first time this year.

“Julia, you look wonderful. Your trip to San Francisco must have agreed with you.”

“Oh yes, it did. I had a very good time. It was wonderful to see the West Coast again.”

“Elizabeth said you went to a medical conference?”

“Yes, I did.”

Was it is his imagination or was she being deliberately vague? He tried to draw her out. “She also mentioned that you were visiting a friend while there, a Dr. Stephens, I believe?”

Her face visibly brightened at the name. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Is he an old friend, Julia?”

A confused look crossed her face for a moment but was quickly suppressed and replaced by a curious smile. “Yes, Stevie and I are very good friends. We have been for a long, long time. I really enjoyed our time together. It made the trip that much more enjoyable.”

He could no longer ignore the unpleasant stirring in the pit of his stomach. It was as if some squirming creature had been living there and had just awakened. He’d felt the nasty thing twisting and turning a bit since he had noticed the change in Julia. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he had been feeling this way since he had first learned that Julia had gone to San Francisco. But then again, Barnabas Collins was not very good at being honest with himself.

“Is something wrong, Barnabas? Are you feeling ill?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he reassured her. He decided to change the subject. “And I understand you were in New York before you went out west?”

“Yes, another conference,” she said without elaborating.

And another evasion, he thought.

“The trips were rather close together, weren’t they?”

Her eyes narrowed a bit, and he was afraid he had done it again. “Well, I haven’t had much time for continuing education in my field, Barnabas. It’s rather difficult to keep up with the latest medical advancements when you are in another century or plane of existence.”

He looked down guiltily and studied his hands; he knew she had sacrificed years of her career for his sake.

His expression was enough to melt the ice that had started to form around her heart again, and she decided to take some pity on him. “And I do have two specialties after all. I’m trying to catch up with both of them. But enough about me. Tell me what has been happening with you, Barnabas.”

Relieved that the storm had passed, he began to tell her about the work he and Willie had been doing at the Old House. Julia had exquisite taste and had always been very interested in the renovations he was making in his home. She seemed to have an innate sense of time period when it came to furnishings, and he supposed that was one reason why she had fit in so seamlessly whenever they had traveled to the past.

“And how is Willie doing?”

“Oh, he seems to think I am working him too hard although I quite disagree.”

Julia laughed at the thought of their young friend complaining about his workload. “Sounds like Willie.”

“Indeed. Speaking of Willie, I had a question I wanted to ask you, Julia. Willie mentioned someone to me, and I wondered if you could tell me who he is. The name was something like ‘James Cricket’ or ‘Jimmy Cricket’.”

“Jimmy Cricket?” she asked, puzzled. “Could it have been Jiminy Cricket, Barnabas?”

“Yes, that’s it. Jiminy Cricket. Who is that, Julia?”

She started to laugh. Barnabas was quite serious, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Jiminy Cricket is just that, Barnabas, a cricket. He was a character in a Walt Disney cartoon. Walt Disney is the one who made all those animated movies,” she explained further. “Why on earth would Willie be talking to you about Jiminy Cricket?”

“He was claiming to be my conscience, and he mentioned this Jiminy Cricket. What does it mean?”

“This is the story in a nutshell, Barnabas. A lonely old woodcarver named Geppetto makes a little wooden puppet that he names Pinocchio. Geppetto’s greatest wish is that Pinocchio come to life and become his son. The Blue Fairy hears Geppetto’s wish and animates Pinocchio the puppet but tells him he must prove himself worthy before he can become a real boy. A cricket, your Jiminy, is nearby, and the fairy makes him Pinocchio’s official conscience - which is a good thing because the puppet is naïve and falls in with bad companions. A real “woodenhead”, as it were.”

Barnabas jumped when he heard Julia’s last comment. “Woodenhead, did you say?”

She tilted her head slightly, mystified by his reaction. “Yes, woodenhead. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” he said quickly. That Willie…. “How does the story turn out, Julia?”

“Well, after a series of adventures (during which Pinocchio does indeed need his conscience), the puppet ends up sacrificing his life for Geppetto’s. Because of his unselfish actions, the Blue Fairy decrees that Pinocchio has proven himself worthy, and she makes him a real boy. Oh, and she gives Jiminy Cricket an official conscience badge, too.”

She stopped and looked at Barnabas, but she couldn’t quite read the myriad of emotions on his handsome face. “Willie thinks you need a conscience?”

“Apparently,” he answered dryly.

She could see that he would not tell her anymore about this. Well, tit for tat. But she now had an inkling that this reconciliation dinner might not have been all Barnabas’ idea. Maybe he had had a little push from his conscience, a tow haired cricket named Willie Loomis.

The aroma of good, strong coffee wafted up from the table as they finished their desserts. Although neither voiced it aloud, they had both been marveling that they had actually had the time to enjoy a full and leisurely meal. Their past adventures had not allowed for much more than a quick bite of whatever was available at Collinwood or the Old House. And all too often, that had meant leftovers of one of Mrs. Johnson’s meals, meals that had been none too palatable when they had been fresh.

“It has been wonderful talking to you again, Julia,” Barnabas said, pushing away his empty cup.

“Yes, it has, Barnabas,” she said, giving him a tired smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“You are quite welcome. I was wondering if you would care to accompany me to the symphony next Friday evening? They are performing Beethoven’s Ninth, and I have heard you mention that that is one of your favorites.”

“Next Friday? Oh, I’m sorry, Barnabas, I can’t. I’m leaving for New Orleans that day.”

He tried to hide his disappointment, but he couldn’t hide his surprise. “New Orleans?”

“Yes, I’ve been invited to speak at a symposium there. Their scheduled speaker has taken ill so I am a last minute replacement. I’m very excited about it, but I certainly have my work cut out for me for the next week trying to get ready.”

“Have you ever been to New Orleans?” He was still trying not to let her see his dismay, but that creature had resumed its squirming in his stomach.

“No. I wish the timing were better. I would have loved to have gone for Mardi Gras. Oh well, at least I’ll be able to keep my shirt on,” she finished with a laugh.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Barnabas. You’re probably not aware of the tradition. During Mardi Gras, women bare their breasts so that admiring men will throw beads at them.”

The look on his face was priceless. She knew it had been wicked of her, but she just hadn’t been able to resist shocking him. He’d gone almost as pale as a vampire, she thought. Oh, you are getting bad, Julia Hoffman. But she still had to stifle a laugh.

“I really must get home,” she said, standing up. “I have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“How long will you be away?”

“The symposium is only a couple of days, but I thought I’d stay on to do some sightseeing. I don’t return until the following Friday.”

As he escorted her from the restaurant, Barnabas Collins struggled to keep the creature in his stomach at bay.

As he readied himself for bed, Barnabas reflected on his evening with Julia. He felt enormous relief that their friendship was back on solid footing. Now perhaps things would get back to normal.

Except that they weren’t going to get back to normal. He had been trying to convince himself that that was the case, but Julia was going away again and soon. Another trip, another week away. What was going on with her? Why did his intuition tell him that there was more to the story?

And the way she had looked tonight - he had rarely known her to take so much care with her appearance. Not to mention the way she had acted - distracted at times, as if she had something else on her mind. He was accustomed to having her full attention when they were together. And there had been something missing from her expressive eyes when she had looked at him….

He slid under the covers and pulled them up tight; the spring nights in Collinsport were still chilly. As his dark head sunk back into the pillows, he remembered what she had said about her friend, Dr. Stephens. Her face had changed when she had talked about him, her dear old friend. Stevie. Stevie Stephens. What kind of ridiculous name was Stevie for a grown man?

He tossed and turned for close to an hour, thoughts of Julia in San Francisco with a man named Stevie holding off the weariness that was making his head ache. Just as sleep began to win the battle, a vision of Julia in New Orleans popped into his head, a raucous Julia tossing back her coppery hair as she flashed her breasts at men who whooped at her and threw handfuls of colorful beads - which she caught in her teeth.

Collins sat straight up in his bed, wide-awake again. He groaned as his feet made contact with the cold floor and shuffled off to the medicine chest. The monster in his belly had reawakened.

It must have been something he ate.

Part Six