Summer 1971 

Barnabas stretched out his long legs and was thankful he had thought to tell Willie to book him in First Class. He’d taken a peek at Coach and had been appalled at how cramped the space was; the passengers were practically on top of one another. And his aisle seat was another small blessing. He was aware that he suffered from a small measure of claustrophobia, but Julia had assured him that this was quite normal considering his long confinement in his coffin.

Julia…What would she think when she saw him? She would certainly be surprised. By the time he arrived in San Francisco, he would already be a full day behind her, and it worried him. The best Willie had been able to do was to get him on the first flight out of Boston in the morning. It was a direct flight, but still, God only knew what could have happened since-

“Excuse me, pardon me.”

He looked up to see a diminutive figure with a shock of unruly white hair trying to get to the window seat beside him. An older woman with a kind face flopped down in her seat and grinned at him. “Hello, there,” she said in a voice that seemed too loud to have issued from her small, stooped body.

“Hello,” he mumbled, groaning inwardly; the last thing he needed was a chatty neighbor on this long flight when he was upset and preoccupied about Julia.

To his relief, the woman said no more as she fumbled in the large purse she held on her lap. He watched in amazement as she pulled out a novel, the Bible, a crossword puzzle magazine, some knitting, and several snacks. He was just beginning to wonder what else she could possibly keep in the bag when a loud sound made him jump in his seat.

The woman glanced over at him curiously. “First time flying?” she inquired, tilting her head. With that plume of hair, his first impression was of a cockatoo.

He nodded silently and gripped the armrest tightly. The cockatoo laid a gnarled hand on his arm. “That’s just them starting the engines,” she told him.

“Oh.” He felt foolish, but the woman just went back to her knitting.

The plane lurched forward, and Barnabas held his breath as it began to race down the runway. He very much wished he wasn’t doing this for the first time alone. The sudden sensation when the wheels left the ground made him gasp and close his eyes. All he could think about was that there was no longer solid ground beneath his feet.

As the plane began its ascent into the early morning sky, his ears began to ache, and without thinking about it, he clamped his hands over them to ease the pain. He certainly had not been well prepared for this journey. Why hadn’t Willie warned him –

A hard tug on his sleeve made him open his eyes. The tiny woman was holding something out to him.

“Here, put this in your mouth. It’ll help with the pressure in your ears.”

He looked down dumbfounded at the bright red object that she had pressed into his hand.

“It’s a Tootsie Pop. Just suck on it,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.

He felt ridiculous putting the pop in his mouth but did as he was told, and after a few moments, the ache in his ears began to fade.

“Thank you,” he finally muttered to the woman.

“You’re welcome, Mr. ?”

“Collins, Barnabas Collins.”

“I’m Madge Symcuski. I’m on my way to see my son in San Francisco. His wife just had a baby. I’ve been visiting my daughter in Boston, but I’m actually from Buffalo, New York. Have you ever been to Buffalo?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve never been in First Class before. It’s a waste of money if you ask me, but they overbooked my previous flight so here I am. I think this airline rips you off anyway. My son’s paying for my ticket, but I told him, ‘Donnie, you can find a cheaper price than that.’”

Barnabas said nothing. He had the feeling that Mrs. Symcuski was the type of person who would prattle on all day if he gave her any encouragement. And he was in no mood to make conversation with a stranger when he was worried about what he was going to find when he got to California. Willie had made a reservation for him at the same hotel where Julia was staying (he didn’t know how Willie had come by that information and had been afraid to ask), but he wasn’t sure who else he might find with her when he got there. Perhaps his fears were groundless. Perhaps this Stephens really was just a –

“Where you from, Mr. Collins?”

“Maine.” Maybe if he gave her short answers he could discourage her.

“Oh, my other son used to live in Maine. I visited there lots of times. He took me to some seafood places, but they were awful expensive.”

Apparently, she needed little encouragement.

“I have eight children, you know.”

He watched fascinated as her crippled hands worked the knitting needles at lightning speed. She knits as fast as she talks, he thought to himself.

“And this newest baby makes twenty-one grandchildren. Another baby boy. I just love babies. But my daughter-in-law has gone and named him some newfangled name – Laramie she’s calling him. Can you beat that? Have you ever even heard of anyone named Laramie?”

“I can’t say that I have.” It was no use.

“Me, I like old-fashioned names – Ann, John, Kathleen, Julia.”

Julia. Barnabas felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of her name. What if she really was in love with Dr. Stephens? What if she no longer was in love with him? That look, the one he had come to count on seeing in her eyes without even knowing it, had disappeared in the past few months. He needed to see it -

“Do you have any children?”

“No.”

“Married?”

“No.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that. Someone you want to marry?”

She certainly was persistent. “Yes,” he said softly, staring down at his hands.

“Something wrong with your hands?”

She was also the most outspoken person he had ever met. She had his cousin Roger beat by a mile. Still, he’d like to put the two of them in a room for an hour and see who was left standing.

“No. Mrs. Symcuski, I don’t mean to be rude, but-”

“So, there is someone you want to marry?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“Then why don’t you marry her?” she asked, as if things were simply black and white.

“The situation is …complicated,” Barnabas answered. He of all people knew how much gray really existed in the world.

“Then why don’t you uncomplicate it? The late Mr. Symcuski – God rest his soul – used to say that life is too short; you have to make your own happiness.”

Life is short. Barnabas wondered what Mrs. Symcuski would say if he told her he was over 200 years old.

“She’s not already married, is she?” the woman pressed. “Because that would be adultery, you know.”

A little of Roger and a little of Aunt Abigail, too. “No, she is not married.”

At least I hope not yet.

A pretty stewardess with auburn hair appeared next to them. Barnabas had a fleeting thought that she looked a bit like Josette and was surprised that the thought brought no pang of grief or longing for his lost love. There was only one woman on his mind now, and she certainly wasn’t Josette or Maggie or Vicki or any of countless others with whom he had fashioned himself in love. The woman he truly loved was one of a kind.

“Can I get you anything?” the young woman asked pleasantly.

Barnabas shook his head no, but the stew wasn’t able to get away that easily from Madge.

“Are these the only pillows you have, young lady? For the price my son paid, we should be given eiderdown ones, not these dinky little things.”

“I’m sorry, m’am, those are all we have, but I can bring you another one if that would help.”

“No, it wouldn’t. I’ll have to live with this one, I guess.”

The stewardess had barely stepped away from them when Madge turned to Barnabas. “Don’t you think she’d kind of heavy for this job? Don’t they have weight limits for these girls?”

Barnabas was given a brief respite when his seatmate dozed off for an hour or so. She had fallen quiet after complaining about the breakfast they had been served, and shortly thereafter, he had heard her soft snores and had breathed a sigh of relief.

Although he had not slept much the night before, he was too agitated to fall asleep. His mind kept coming back around to what he was going to say to Julia. How could he make her understand how he felt? Would she even believe him? She had every reason not to believe or trust him. After what she had heard him say to Angelique-

“Are you familiar with Bangor, Mr. Collins?” She was awake again.

“Yes.”

“Do you know the McIlheneys?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Oh, well, you should look them up. They’re a lovely family. Well, except for that youngest one, he’s a hellion. I used to tell Timothy – that’s my son - that youngest McIlheney wasn’t going to come to any good. He’s red-haired, you know. They almost never come to any good.”

“Is that so?” he asked, almost laughing out loud. She must not know any redheads like the one he knew.

“Yes, and well, you know the daughter-in-law I told you about?” she said lowering her voice. “She’s a redhead. And do you know, she didn’t take my son’s name when they married? She kept her own! Some of the girls are doing that now, have to keep their own identity they say, but I think it’s shameful.”

Her statement made him wonder what Julia would do when – if – she got married. She had built a reputation as Dr. Julia Hoffman. Would she want to change that? He just hoped he had a chance to find out.

By the time the pilot announced that they were preparing to land, Barnabas realized that he knew everything about Madge Symcuski’s family that there was to know - their names, their occupations (I’ve got them all – doctor, lawyer and Indian chief, she had said), where they lived, and how many children they had.

And he also realized that Madge Symcuski had been a blessing in disguise – for she had kept his mind off of his fear of flying all the way across the country.

“Here, you’ll need another one of these for the landing,” she said, handing him another Tootsie Pop.

The plane finally touched the ground with a loud thud, and the old woman reached out and gave his hand a squeeze to tell him that everything was all right. He gave her a weak smile and hoped that his heart would soon find its way out of his throat and back into his chest.

“Now, if you’re ever in Buffalo, you be sure to give me a call,” Barnabas’ new friend told him as they waited to exit the plane. “Just remember, that’s S-Y-M-C-U-S-K-I.”

Barnabas didn’t think he would -or could- ever forget.

For the rest of his life, Barnabas Collins would remember San Francisco as a glorious place.

Her skin had been softer than he had even imagined. The taste of her had been sweeter than any ambrosia of which the gods had ever partaken. And the scent of her had intoxicated him, filling his head with visions of acres and acres of spring flowers swaying softly in the breeze.

He had explained everything to her. She had listened patiently, and when he had finished, her emerald eyes had glowed with love for him once more. She had assured him that no one existed for her except him. His fears had been groundless.

Their lovemaking had been incredible. It had been gentle and tender, passionate and furious by turns. He had never felt so fulfilled, so complete, so absolutely whole. He could not imagine one more moment without her by his side, without her in his bed every night and morning. She was his sun and moon, and he was hers.

They had finally fallen asleep in each other’s arms, exhausted, sated, content. This was the beginning of a love affair for the ages.

A ray of sunshine stabbed his eyes, and he groaned and rolled over to pull Julia closer to him. She must have moved away from him as they slept because he had grown cold. He reached out his arm but met only pillows and bedding. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw that he was alone.

Sitting up, he looked around the room for an explanation. His bags sat where they had been dropped by the bellman. He remembered sitting on the bed to remove his shoes. The flight had left him exhausted and that on top of the time change had given him a serious case of jet lag.

The clock on the nightstand read 6:00 P.M. He must have fallen asleep without realizing it and slept all afternoon.

He was alone, had been alone. Julia had never been here.

It had all been a dream.

Part Ten