By Pheebee

Chapter 1 

"Look- " Carolyn exclaimed. "This is the painting I was telling you about. Do you see it?"

"I see the painting," Julia replied, "but..." She studied it in silence for a moment. A tall, dark haired man, a slender woman with fair skin, titian hair, Edwardian clothing- yes, there were similarities, but nothing that unusual. There must be hundreds- thousands!- of paintings of dark haired men and fair women in galleries, homes and studios around the world. Why on earth was Carolyn bringing up this supposed resemblance? Surely she must realize how uncomfortable she was causing Barnabas to feel?

Barnabas was shaking his head. "Surely any resemblance is purely superficial."

Carolyn frowned, her elfin features taking on a pouting appearance for a moment. To her eye, it was th e spitting image of the couple. In antique clothing, of course, but-Still, she wasn't about to stress the point. The last thing she wanted to do was make them uncomfortable about their unacknowledged relationship. If they had such a relationship. At times, she was certain they did. At other times- "I didn't say it was you two, only that it reminded me of you."

Quentin apparently felt the need to put his two cents in. Smirking up at the painting from the back of the small group, he said, "Clearly it's not my staid cousin and the straight-laced doctor- they'd never permit themselves to be caught in such a compromising pose..."

Sensing an increase in Barnabas' discomfort, Julia turned a quelling glance on the taller man. "Quentin," she began.

"I don't care what any of you say. I'm going to bid on it. After all, we have to bid on something- it's a charity auction- I might as well bid on something I like. Something that reminds me of people I love," Carolyn added with heavy emphasis.

"Of course you should," Julia said in soothing tones. She placed an arm around the younger woman's shoulders. "It is a lovely painting, Carolyn, regardless of whether or not it resembles Barnabas and me."

 * * *

Chapter 2

So- how did you all make out at the auction?" Elizabeth inquired from her seat near the fire as the chattering group filed into the drawing room behind Carolyn. \line

"It was wonderful, Mother. Look at this painting. I happen to think it's the spitting image of Julia and Cousin Barnabas. Of course, they don't agree," Carolyn replied, placing the painting in question on the sofa and working at the wrappings.

"Here, cousin, try this," Quentin suggested, handing her a pocket knife of antique design.

"Why, thank you, Quentin," Carolyn said, taking the knife and applying it to the twine that held the brown paper wrapping in place. "There," she said, allowing the paper to drop to the floor. "What do you think, Mother?"

"Why," Elizabeth paused, studying the framed canvas. "It's certainly attractive, but--" She paused again, shaking her head. "The coloring is similar, but clearly this is the late eighteen hundreds, perhaps early nineteen hundreds. Neither of them was alive at that time, Carolyn. Cousin Barnabas' family was in England, Julia's, I presume, here in the United States."

"Oh!" Carolyn exclaimed. "You are--all of you--so literal. I didn't say it was them, I said it reminded me of them. The coloring, the hair-"

"Come now, Carolyn, you've never seen me with a hairdo anything like t hat one and as for the dress, well, it's lovely, but can you see me trying to do rounds at the hospital wearing something like that?" Julia remonstrated, smiling at the young woman's insistence though she couldn't help wondering--at Collinwood there were too many things that couldn't be explained and she had traveled to 1895, certainly close enough to the period depicted.

"You're another one, Julia. Talk about--"

"I found it," Quentin said as he wandered back into the drawing room.

"Found what, cousin?" Barnabas asked quietly.

"The picture. This is clearly a copy, adapted to some degree--perhaps friends or relatives of the artist--but the original was by Gustav Klimt. See, it's right here in this book-" He held out the heavy volume on turn of the century art. "Look, in the original the male figure is said to have a gypsy-like air, while the woman was obviously of a moneyed family."

"Let me see that," Carolyn said, snatching the book from his hands, then nearly dropping it when she took its full weight. "You're right. Look, the figures in the original hardly resemble Julia and Barnabas at all-" She shook her head in bewilderment. "And look here- in the original there are two cherubs overlooking the lovers. In this one there's only one..."

"I'm sure Quentin is correct," Barnabas said. "The painter simply borrowed the composition and imposed the faces of two of his--"

"Or her," Julia inserted.

"--acquaintances," Barnabas continued as though there'd been no interruption, "in place of those in the original. Regardless, it is a lovely painting. Whoever painted it was clearly quite talented. Where do you intend to hang it, Carolyn?"

"In the foyer, I think. Where that forbidding ancestor nobody recognizes has been hanging for ages. That way we can all enjoy it."

"An excellent location," Barnabas stated thoughtfully.

* * *

Chapter 3

Placing his bags on the floor near the grand staircase, Roger Collins went over to study the "new" painting on the wall. "Whatever possessed you to hang a picture of Julia and Barnabas in the foyer, Liz?"

"Isn't it odd?" Elizabeth asked, coming to stand at her brother's side. "Carolyn purchased it at the charity auction last week. According to the provenance--what Carolyn was able to track down, that is--it was painted around 1900 by a local artist. It's a copy of an original that was painted a few years earlier by a German artist named Gustav Klimt. It's not much of a copy, however. The figures in the original have similar hair colors, but that's about it. Quentin surmises that the local artist inserted the features of personal acquaintances."

Roger studied the painting some more then commented dryly, "In that case, Barnabas and Doctor Hoffman both carry their years quite well, wouldn't you say?"

"That's the oddest part of the whole thing," Elizabeth replied. "When Carolyn first showed it to me, I couldn't see any resemblance whatsoever. But now-" Elizabeth shook her head. "Now I can see it- Barnabas' nose and bangs, Julia's cheekbones and green eyes. It's uncanny."

Roger shook his head. "Uncanny, ha! I suspect someone has been pulling the family's leg. It was probably painted in the last few months and then 'distressed' to make it appear old--"

Elizabeth demurred. "Carolyn took it over to the college, had it dated by the chairman of the art department. The canvas, the paints--everything about it is at least fifty years old, probably older."

"Ha!" Roger repeated. "If I know anything, the chairman probably recognized the style as that of one of his students but wasn't about to say so."

"Oh, Roger. Why on earth would he do that? Be realistic. The thing is old. What I don't understand is why it looks so much more like Julia and Barnabas now than it did last week-"

Roger gave a derogatory shake of his head. "Just wait, Liz. In a few weeks some longhaired clown will be claiming he painted it, trying to make the Collins family look foolish."

"Roger, I hardly think--"

Turning on his heel, Roger returned to where he'd left his bags. "That's the problem in this house, Liz," he said, hoisting the suitcases. "No one thinks."

 * * *

Chapter 4

"Julia, is that blouse new? It's lovely. Look at the em broidery. So delicate--you have to be right on top of it to even notice it. And those sleeves--" Carolyn grasped Julia's hands, held her arms out to better see the garment in question, then gave her a little spin. "And that skirt is perfect. Just a little fullness to make it flow. Look at that bow- it almost gives the impression of a bustle! It's perfect for the Historical Society dinner dance. Not a costume by any means, but evocative-"

Julia smiled but she looked uncertain.  She wanted Barnabas to like the way she looked but she certainly didn't want to look like she was wearing a costume "I don't know. The blouse is rather impractical. The sleeves--they call them 'leg o' mutton' sleeves'- are, well, so impractical! I can't think of another word for them. The whole thing will be a wrinkled mess by the time I arrive at the dinner dance. And the skirt--" She looked down at the dove grey moiré- tight, with a band reminiscent of a cummerbund going from her natural waist and up over her ribs, flaring over her hips out with  additional fullness in the back "It's impra- "

"Enough, Julia. It's a lovely ensemble--"

"It is both elegant and alluring," Barnabas commented from the doorway, "though not nearly as elegant and alluring as the one who is wearing it." Cross ing the room, he took Julia's hands in his. "You look beautiful, my dear," he said, bowing low and pressing a fervent kiss onto the back of first one hand and then the other.

Smiling coquettishly, Julia retrieved her hands, swept her skirt out around her ankles and sank into a deep curtsey. "Why, sir, you flatter me."

"Indeed, I do not," he responded gallantly. "Shall we?"

She smiled up at him. "We shall," she answered, linking her arm through his proffered one, then together they nodded graciously at Carolyn and left the room just as Quentin was entering it.

They nodded again in his direction just as graciously, then they were heading out the great doors, heads held high as though leading an enormous entourage.

Quentin frowned quizzically at their receding backs. "Would you mind telling me what the hell that was all about?" he demanded.

"Well, I would," Carolyn replied, moving over to the window and peering out at rapidly disappearing tail lights of Barnabas' car. "Explain it, that is. If I could...They're going to the Historical Society dinner dance. But- it was so odd. I was talking to Julia and everything was nice and normal, she was deploring the impracticality of her new outfit. Typical Julia. She loves clothe s but seems to think that's some sort of character flaw. Then Barnabas appeared and I suddenly felt as though I was the invisible observer of an eighteenth century drawing room comedy. I mean- it was as though I wasn't even there, Quentin. And the way they were speaking, acting. Julia curtsied! Barnabas, well, him I can understand, he's always been a bit old-fashioned, but Julia?" She shook her head in puzzlement.

"Nineteenth century drawing room comedy," her cousin corrected. "Given their style of dress , that is. Late nineteenth century, at that. But you're right. They were acting distinctly odd." He ran a hand through his always slightly tousled hair. "I however, have better things to do than worry about my elder cousin and his physician's odd behavior ."

"Oh, you do," Carolyn commented archly. "And what precisely are you planning to do tonight?"

"I plan to take my adorable younger cousin out to the Blue Whale where she's going to have a drink with me and perhaps teach me that new dance she was talking about the other night at dinner," he answered.

\line "In that case, let me grab my bag," she replied, matching her actions to her words. \line \line "Shall we," Quentin queried with a bow and a fairly credible imitation of Barnabas' accent.

"We shall," Carolyn responded with a mock curtsey and a giggle as she laced her arm through his.

* * *

Chapter 5

 "Now that's odd," Elizabeth commented as she peered into the drawing room. "Julia said she and Barnabas would meet us here. It seemed so silly to bring two cars, what with the gasoline shortage and all..."

"Well, it looks like she and Barnabas have already gone," Roger commented. "The car was out front a little while ago it's not there now. And there's no sign of either one of them here in the house..."

"Either of whom?" Carolyn enquired tucking certain "girlish supplies" she'd nearly forgotten into her purse as she hurried down the stairs.

"Julia and Barnabas," Elizabeth replied. "We were supposed to go to the dinner dance together."

"That's going to be hard to do," Carolyn said with a chuckle. "They left about oh, almost ten minutes ago and believe me, they were in their own world. Eyes for each other and no one else..."

Elizabeth frowned. "Carolyn, I wish you wouldn't say that sort of thing. You know how very private Julia and Barnabas are. I admit I have my suspicions, too, but there's no need to go around airing them to all and sundry."

"The way they were acting, no one will have to say a word, Mother," Carolyn replied saucily as she headed for the door. "Their actions will say it all and quite loudly, too."

Elizabeth sighed and turned to her impatiently waiting brother. "Your car or mine?" she asked.

 * * *

Chapter 6

"Elizabeth, Roger, I thought you were carpooling with your cousin Barnabas and Doctor Hoffman..."

Elizabeth cringed, though whether at Roger's muttered profanity or Lillianne Forbisher's overly proper diction (not to mention her implication that they were guilty of conspicuous consumerism and wasteful of precious natural resources), she wasn't certain. Of course, it could also be related to Lillianne's prowess as a gossip, she admitted silently, her lips curving upward in an outwardly composed smile. "You know how it is, Lillianne. Plans change."

"Plans aren't the only things that change," Lillianne said in arch tones. "Take your cousin- he's quite the picture of romance this evening."

"Barnabas?" Roger queried with a frown.

"He is an attractive man," Elizabeth agreed, "but the picture of romance?"

"Oh, yes," Lillianne cooed. "Like something from one of those dreadful historical romances one sees in bookstores. Quite an air about him and that suit- well, it's quite lovely, I'm certain, but perhaps a touch theatrical. As for Doctor Hoffman - "

"She looks stunning," Roger commented, his attention caught as the couple in question twirled past to the strains of a Strauss waltz.

"She does," Elizabeth echoed." 

"If it weren't for the fact that she's practically in costume, one could almost feel s orry for her. I mean, really, it's not the thing, not the thing at all, for a woman to be wearing her heart on her sleeve like that. It's almost shocking, the way she's staring at him...On top of that, she's acting so oddly this evening."

"It seems to me that Barnabas is wearing his heart on his sleeve, as well," Roger commented, his patience with the society woman worn thin already

"Oh, well, everyone knows how gentlemen are," Lillianne said in cutting tones. "At least he's finally mooning over someone nearer his own age."

Elizabeth drew a breath as she fought not to comment on the well-known affairs of Lillianne's husband. "Lillianne, you said Julia was acting oddly- would you mind explaining what you meant by that?"

"It's difficult to explain, Elizabeth, dear. She seems to be in a different world. When one speaks to her it's as though she has to recall herself to the present, determine where she is. Why, if I didn't know better, I'd suspect she had been taking some sort of drugs. Of course, one does hear of physicians who begin partaking of their own pharmacopeias. I suppose there's no reason she should be any better than any other physician, simply because she's female," Lillianne went on in her cloyingly sweet manner.

"Lillianne!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Well, it's true, Elizabeth. There's no reason to bury one's head in the sand simply because we live in Collinsport. There's a big world outside of Maine and- "

"Yes, of course there is," Elizabeth agreed. "However, to make such a statement- why, it's libelous, Lillianne. Julia could take you to court- "

"Only if it's not true, Elizabeth. After you've watched her- talked to her- for a while, you tell me what you think.

Roger, who'd been standing by, listening in disgusted silence, shook his head. "Well, I think I'll go see if I can cut in. I for one wouldn't mind having Julia Hoffman gaze at me like that for a while. Excuse me, ladies."

"Yes, excuse me, too," Elizabeth added. "I see someone over there that I'd like to speak to."

"Jealous old biddy," Roger muttered as they moved away. "She's just annoyed that she couldn't wear an outfit like that when she was fifteen let alone now that she's over fifty. But by God, Julia does look gorgeous, doesn't she?" he asked, his eyes on the striking couple as they on ce again rounded the dance floor. Stepping into their path, he waited, then tapping Barnabas lightly on the shoulder, asked, "May I?"

* * *

Chapter 7

"My apologies," Roger murmured as he stepped off Julia's toes. "I'm not quite the dancer my cousin is."

Julia smiled up at him. "I'm not certain the fault was yours, Roger. Neither am I much of a dancer."

"You seemed to be doing quite well a few moments ago," Roger noted.

"I was merely following Barnabas' lead," she explained.

"And enjoying yourself while you did so," Roger intimated.

"Was Lillianne Forbisher making vile comments?" she asked.

"The vilest," he replied, smiling. "Seriously, all she said was she envied your outfit and that she wished Barnabas would look at her the way he was looking at you."

"Roger!" She chuckled as he held her to him more tightly as they came to the end of the dance floor and he was obliged to alter their trajectory. "I'm sure whatever she said was quite to the contrary."

"Well, yes, it was. But her meaning came across loud and clear all the same. If she were any more jealous, she'd turn green. Dreadful woman," he added.

 * * *

Chapter 8

 "Far be it from me to agree with Lilli Forbisher," Roger commented as he turned off the county road and onto the private road that led to Collinwood, "but Julia was behaving rather oddly this evening. For a moment, I didn't think she recognized me when I asked her to dance. It was as though- well, it was as though she had to force herself to focus on the people and things around her. You know how she's normally so quick on the uptake. She sees things, makes connections faster than anyone I've ever known. It was...odd," he repeated.

Elizabeth was shaking her head. Roger had been going on in this same vein ever since they got in the car. For her part, she didn't want to agree, didn't want to see anything odd or unusual in anyone's behavior- she'd seen too much in the past - but to disagree would be to lie outright, something she wasn't prepared to do. There was nothing else to be said--it had been a strange evening altogether.

"And Barnabas," Roger continued, assisting her from the car. "He was just as bad- if not worse! Why wouldn't he let us bring Julia home? He could have gone directly to the Old House, but no, he has to see her to the door. As though she were a young girl and he a besotted swain! What's going on with those two, Liz? Do you have any ideas? Has she said anything to you?" He paused at the doors, staring out over th e drive. "And where are they, I'd like to know? They were right behind us most of the way home but we seem to have lost them somewhere around the second curve in the estate road.\'94

Elizabeth looked back as well, but spotting no following vehicle, she steppe d through the great doors into the foyer where she allowed Roger to assist her with her coat. "I don't know anything, Roger. Julia hasn't said a word, and Barnabas, well, you know how he is..."

"Speaking of Barnabas and Julia again?" Quentin asked as he sashayed into the foyer from the drawing room, snifter in hand.  "I for one don't see what the problem is," he continued. "They're both much more pleasant to be around when they're in a romantic fog, don't you think?"

"Quentin! I thought you were going to the Blue Whale with Carolyn," Elizabeth exclaimed.

"We went, we heard, Carolyn got a headache- the new band isn't very good but they're loud," Quentin explained as he turned and headed back to the couch where he'd been lounging since Carolyn went upstairs. "She took some aspirin and went to bed," he added, knowing Elizabeth would worry.

"Oh, dear," Elizabeth said.

"It's just a headache," Quentin assured her. He patted the cushions, motioning for her to join him on the couch. "As for my cousin and the good doctor, don't you think it's about time they gave in and admitted their feelings for one another?"

"It was a good thing they weren't admitting them tonight," Roger interposed, drawing the doors partly closed behind him. "From the looks of things, Barnabas might have bedded her right there in the Historical Society ballroom. What a scandal that would be!"

Elizabeth frowned at him from her place on the couch, made a little huffing sound at the vulgar comment then responded to Quentin's question as though Roger hadn't said a word. "Well, yes. Yes, I do," she answered. "But Quentin, what if there's something more serious going on. That painting- "

"What painting?" Quentin demanded.

"The one Carolyn bought at the auction. I swear it's coming to resemble them more and more each day. There have been so many unexplainable happenings here at Collinwood. If someone or something is affecting Barnabas and Julia- "

"Have you sensed anything evil, Elizabeth? Anything harmful?" Quentin asked in reasonable tones.

Elizabeth frowned, opened her mouth to speak then paused, listening to faint sounds from outside the ancient dwelling. "Hush! They're coming," she warned just as the great doors opened, admitting Julia and Barnabas to the foyer.

"Thank you, Barnabas. I had a lovely time," Julia said, her voice husky.

"As did I," Barnabas replied then all was silent. Nearly silent--it didn't take much imagination on the parts of the unwilling auditors in the drawing room to picture what was taking place mere yards away.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Barnabas' voice inquired, his tones deeper, breathier than normal.

"I had intended to go to Wyndecliffe- I have some catching up to do and there's a patient I need to evaluate."

Another near silence then, "Do you have to go?"

"I should. I don't want to..."

"Oh, for God's sake," Roger muttered then he called, "Barnabas? Julia? Is that you? Would you two care for a brandy or some sherry? It will warm you up- mighty chilly outside tonight." Softly, he added, "Not that either one of you needs warming up!"

A muffled gasp issued from the foyer, then two sets of footsteps moved reluctantly toward the drawing room.

"We were unaware that anyone was present," Barnabas said in that calm, dignified way of his. His cheekbones were marked by a flush of pink, however.

Roger smirked as he turned toward the crystal decanters and waiting glasses. "I'm certain you were," he murmured. "What will you have- brandy? Sherry?"

"Nothing for me," Julia replied, her own cheeks pinker than normal. "In fact, if you will all excuse me, I have a long day tomorrow. I think I'll go up to bed."

Barnabas grasped her hands, halting her where she stood. "Call me," he murmured.

"Of course," she replied then she headed toward the doors, her long skirt rustling as she moved.

There was silence for a long moment as she walked up the stairs, then, removing a snowy handkerchief from his pocket, Quentin crossed to Barnabas' side and applied it to the smear of lipstick by the corner of his mouth. "Aren't you glad you finally installed a telephone in the Old House?" he asked softly.

 * * *

Chapter 9

Julia's head ached as she studied the files before her but she wasn't certain why. She hadn't had that much to drink last night and she certainly hadn't been out late, all things considered. Historical Society dances weren't exactly all night discotheques. She'd been showered and in bed by one thirty. Not late for a woman who'd remained awake the better part of day and night during her attempts to cure Barnabas.

Again her head throbbed and she thought about searching out an aspirin, decided it would require too much effort. Besides, she knew what was causing her head to ache: memories of l ast night, memories of being held securely in Barnabas' arms as they twirled 'round the ballroom floor. Memories of his attentiveness, of his fingers touching hers, of his arm going around her, his hand resting at the small of her back. Memories of being kissed in the foyer at Collinwood. Not to mention the embarrassing memory of discovering that the family had been gathered in the drawing room while she and Barnabas had been-

Had been what, she wondered? What had Barnabas been thinking when he'd taken h er in his arms, pressed his body close to hers? Had he merely been caught up in the romance of the evening, lured into feeling as though he'd stepped back to a time closer to his own?

But then there was the memory of what had happened in her bedroom...

The phone on the corner of her desk rang, startling her out of her reverie.

"Hoffman," she snapped into the mouthpiece. She'd specifically requested no interruptions. If she didn't get to work, the pile of folders in front of her was going erupt like Mount Vesuvius.

"Julia," a masculine voice breathed.

"Barnabas? Is that you? Are you all right?" Her thoughts went back to the night before. She'd wakened with a start to find him sitting on the edge of her bed. "Barnabas, what is it? Is something wrong? Are you ill?" she'd demanded, sitting up at once and taking his hand in hers, automatically seeking his pulse.

"I'm fine, Julia. I apologize for waking you but- " his voice had trailed off, his dark eyes just barely visible in the moonlight flooding the room.

"Are you certain you're okay? Your pulse is racing..."

"Yes, I am certain. I--it's simply that--" he'd paused, shaken his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have disturbed you. I--" He'd shaken his head once more. His gaze fell on his  fingers fumbling nervously with his ring. "I wished to see you, Julia. I apologize. I shouldn't have awakened you."

She drew herself back to the present. "Barnabas?"

"I'm sorry if I frightened you, Julia. I'm fine. I promise. It was merely that I missed you and wished to hear your voice."

She shook her head, safe in the knowledge that he couldn't see her. "I see," she murmured though she didn't see, not at all.

"Will you be leaving soon, Julia? I am concerned. The weather--"

"Is no worse than it usually is, Barnabas," she said gently. "I have an appointment at 5:15 that I can't cancel." She considered for a moment, thought about the way his pulse had been racing when he came to her bedroom, then said, "Why don't you drive up to Wyndecliffe. I can do your regular check-up then we can go out for dinner. There's a new restaurant that is reputed to be wonderful. If you're too tired to make the drive back to Collinwood you can spend the night in my guest room." This last was pushing things, she knew, as Barnabas was ever cautious about damaging her reputation.

"Julia--"

"Barnabas, it's a different time, a different age. No one cares. And even if they did, my apartment has its own entrance. You can leave your car in the hospital lot. No one need ever know."

"It's not that, precisely."\line

She drew a breath, drew in patience. Something was clearly bothering him. "No? Well, you can tell me what it is when you get here, all right? I have to go now. I'll see you in a couple of hours. Have the secretary buzz me when you arrive."

"Yes, of course," he replied. "Julia?"

"Yes?"

"I miss you."

 * * *

Chapter 10

Julia frowned at the notes she'd jotted, raised her voice slightly. "You're mildly anemic. Nothing surprising about that. If you won't eat red meat, you must take the supplement I prescribed, Barnabas. I've told you that before. Numerous times." She shook her head. "But I wish I knew what's causing this acceleration in your heart rate-Perhaps tomorrow I can run a few additional tests before you return to Collinwood. A cardiogram to begin with--"

Barnabas emerged from the small dressing room, once again the epitome of good grooming. "The cause is simple. As for the cure-" He crossed the examining room, wrapped his arms around her.

She looked up, frowning. "There's no discernible change in anything else. If you know what's causing this, why didn't you say so when I asked you, Barnabas? You've said nothing except that- "

"--Except that I missed you. When you aren't by my side, my heart pounds. It aches, Julia. But when you are with me- " He drew back, raised his wrist, encouraging her to check his pulse once more.

She shook her head but placed her fingers at the pulse point all the same. She studied the sweep hand on her watch, took another step away from him then, still shaking her head, met his gaze. "What does it mean?" she asked.

"That you are necessary to my health. That I need you. That I love you."

"But- "

"I can't explain it, Julia, but this has been happening for several weeks now. When I am away from you my heart pounds, my pulse races, I think only of being with you. And when I am with you, the ache subsides, my pulse slows, my breathing grows easier."

"This has been happening for weeks and you've only just told me about it? Barnabas- "\line

He drew her to the examining table, sat down on the edge, patted it in invitation, his e yes never leaving hers, his hands holding hers once again as soon as she had copied his action and perched her hip on the padded surface. "I can only think of one thing, Julia. That I love you. That I've been a fool for years, denying that love, calling it friendship and now- now someone else has decided to take a hand, has made me face the reality of the situation. Nothing else has any importance for me."

The words he was saying filled her with joy, but, "Someone- Barnabas, what do you mean? Who has taken a hand?"

"I had a dream last night, Julia," he said somberly.

She frowned mentally, wondering where this seemingly disjointed conversation was headed. "A dream- a nightmare, you mean?" He hated to speak of the nightmares, saw the nausea and chills they induced as a weakness, but she knew they existed.

"No. Not a nightmare. A dream- a dream of Sarah. She was speaking to me, Julia, telling me that I can't continue to live unless I admit my love for you. That I will die unless I do so. And Julia- " his grip on her hands tightened, "- I believe it is so. You have felt my pulse, seen how it calms when I am with you, when I hold your hands in mine."

"But Barnabas- "

"Have you looked at Carolyn's painting recently, Julia? Studied it, I mean?"

She shook her head, bewildered at this new turn of subject. "Carolyn's painting?"

"The one she purchased at the auction," he explained.

"Not really, no," she replied, her voice cool. "I'm tired of people insisting it looks like us, that it's changing, that we are the couple in the painting."\line  \line "Of course," he replied. "I understand. I have looked at it, however. They are right, Julia. Everyone who has insisted it looks like us is right. Something has happened to it. As absurd as it sounds, it could now be a portrait of us. And the cherub looking down on us..."

She drew her hands from his, slipped off the table and stalked across the small room, one  hand going immediately to the scarf at her throat. "No. No, no, no. I don't believe it, Barnabas. I won't believe it. We've all had too much of the supernatural. We see it everywhere. We- "

He followed her, captured her hands again. "It is Sarah, Julia. I swear to you, the face of the cherub is Sarah's."

 * * *

Chapter 11

Julia shook her head as she slipped between the sheets. Barnabas had been insistent, begging that she return to Collinwood with him to view the altered painting but she'd resisted, finally agreeing to go the following day- after he'd had a cardiogram and a few other tests she'd thought up. Though what any of it would prove...Wouldn't thinking one's long dead sister was trying to contact you, to guide your life and relationships, be enough to set anyone's heart pounding?

Sighing, she turned on her side and closed her eyes. She was exhausted both from the long day she'd put in at Wyndecliffe and from the emotional stress of trying to make Barnabas believe that his dream had been just that- a dream.

She chuckled at the thought. "Sometimes a dream is just a dream, Sigmund," she murmured as she drifted off.

He does love you, the young voice repeated. He loves you more than he's ever loved anyone else. You have to believe that. He has been faithful to you for so long now.

Julia shook her head at the dream child in the pink dress and ruffled headgear- could something that elaborate be called a cap? How long, Sarah? Since Angelique died? A year. He's been grieving. I'm expecting to hear that he has a new lady friend any day now. And Sarah, whoever she is, the woman will be young, her skin will be smooth, her figure flawless. Your brother is not drawn to women past their youth.

That was the old Barnabas, Sarah insisted. He's different now. You can see it, surely you can! He loves you, wants only you. He knows now how important you are to him, to his very existence. You can't turn him away. He is linked to you. Without you, he will die!

Great, Julia thought. I'm having dream conversations with the ghost of a young girl who died almost two hundred years ago. Doctor, analyze yourself!

Say that you will give him a chance. Please, Sarah begged and despite knowing this was just a dream, despite knowing that while Barnabas might indeed love her, h e was not in love with her, Julia found herself nodding slowly. Very well, Sarah. I will give him the chance to prove his love. Now go away, child. I'm tired and need to sleep if I'm going to deal with your stubborn brother tomorrow at the hospital.

Sarah smiled slyly. If you tell him you love him, you won't have to deal with him. His pulse will slow and the ache in his heart will ease and together you will live happily.

Happily ever after, hmm? Julia murmured. Well, I've never believed in that particular scenario but right now undisturbed sleep will be sufficient. Good night, Sarah Collins.

Good night, Doctor Hoffman.

Julia gave a humorous little sniff as she turned over onto her other side. The dream child knew not only her name but her proper designation. Talk about wish fulfillment!

 * * *

Chapter 12

"The test is painless and will only take a few minutes," Julia explained as the youthful technician methodically placed the electrodes on the older man's chest.

Barnabas grunted and gave a little nod.

The tow-headed tech with the remains of a military hair cut had completed his task. "Ready, Doctor."

Julia squeezed Barnabas' hand then took a step away from the table where he lay. "Just relax, Barnabas and breathe normally."

He nodded again as the tech flipped a switch and the machine began recording.

Several minutes passed with only the scratching sounds of the stylus on paper as distractions. Once, then again, the tech stopped the machine, repositioned the electrodes then resumed the recording.

Julia studied the squiggles on the paper for a  moment, then moved away to where she'd placed Barnabas' records- records she normally kept locked away in a hidden safe- on the counter at the side of the room. The hum o f the machine created a lulling effect as she glanced down at the results of the tests she'd done yesterday and earlier today and she found herself relaxing. Barnabas' rapid heartbeat had been nothing but a-

"Doctor, you should see this," the tech said sharply, rousing her from her reverie.

"What is it?" she demanded crossing at once to the side of the examining table.

"His heart rate has accelerated sharply," the tech began, but Julia had already absorbed the information contained in the graphic representation of Barnabas' heartbeat that was piling up in loose folds on the ledge next to the EKG machine.

"Barnabas--" Her voice was taut but calm as she laid her fingers on the artery in his neck. "Are you experiencing any pain?"

"No," he replied softly. "Not pain, precisely."

"If not pain, then what are you experiencing?" she inquired.

"Nothing now- the sensation has eased. It was- I would describe it as a sensation of rending. It was as though part of me was being torn away."

She frowned and turned her attention back to the etchings that had been expelled by the machine a minute or two earlier. Steady. Perfect. The textbook image of a normal heartbeat. Then suddenly an increase. But everything was still textbook perfect. No irregularities. Barnabas' heart was merely beating far, far faster than any resting heart should.

"I've never seen anything like that before," the tech offered uncertainly. "No arrhythmias, but..."

"Mmmm," she murmured, her eyes still on the paper.

"And now," the tech continued, pointing to the most recent readings.

Julia frowned again, nodded. She thought about what Barnabas had said the other night, that his heart raced when they were separated, returned to normal when they were together. It was probably nothing- a psychosomatic response, something along those lines. She hated to cause him discomfort. All the same, she'd like to see if she could provoke the response again. And the EKG showed no mechanical irregularities...

She drew a breath, her chin tipping toward the ceiling, her eyes closing momentarily. "Barnabas, I want you to stay here for a few more minutes. Josh- " she nodded toward the technician, "--is going to continue the EKG while I run and look something up. I'll be back in five minutes. Try to relax and stay calm, okay?"

"Julia?" Barnabas' voice held a note of fear.

"It's all right. I'll be back as quickly as I can," she told him earnestly.

"Very well," he said softly, resignedly.

"I'll be as quick as I can," she promised once more. To Josh, she added, "Page me at once if there's any change."

"Yes, Doctor," the tech replied, his confusion clear. He hadn't been here long but he knew Julia Hoffman never left a patient's side in the middle of a procedure unless there was an emergency elsewhere in the hospital. All the same, she squeezed the patient's near hand lightly then she was gone from the room.

 * * *

Chapter 13

Julia paused, her back to the wall outside the examining room where Barnabas lay. She was only there a minute, maybe two. Then-

"Doctor- Doctor Hoffman!" Josh's voice rang out from the speakers in the corridor as well as from the doorway of the room she'd just exited. "Doctor Hoffman to room- "

"It's all right, I'm here," she responded, returning immediately to the exam room and moving quickly to Barnabas' side. Once again, she cradled his hand in hers.

"Doctor- his heart rate, it just surged again. I've never seen anything like it but- "

"It's all right, Josh. I think if you look, you'll see that it's dropping back to normal again."

"Y-you're right," Josh replied. "I've never seen- "

"Anything like it," Julia finished the sentence for him. "And you probably won't see it again, either. It's quit e a rare syndrome. Similar to but not the precisely the same as a panic attack," she explained, picking a term that had recently begun to be bandied about. Who knew? It might even be an accurate diagnosis.  To Barnabas, she said in gentler tones, "Is the discomfort easing?"

Barnabas nodded. "Yes. I believe so."

Julia turned to Josh. "I think we're pretty much finished up here for now. You can go."

"Yes, ma'am--um, Doctor," Josh, recently returned from Viet Nam where he'd picked up numerous skills beyond his medic rating, corrected himself. He turned to go but stopped when Julia spoke again.

"Oh, and Josh, I know that you'll remember, anything you see or hear at Wyndecliffe is confidential."

"Of course, Doctor."

 * * *

Chapter 14

 "Is what just happened similar to what has been happening for the last few weeks?"

"Yes," Barnabas replied wearily.

"What about severity?" she inquired.

"Severity?" His chest didn't hurt anymore but he was tired. He tried all the same to supply the info rmation she was requesting. "It has increased, I suppose." He drew a hesitant breath, fearful the pain would return. "At first it was subtle. A hint of tightness, nothing more." His eyes were drifting shut despite his determination to remain awake. He fe t so safe now, his large hand embraced by her two smaller yet so efficient ones. The pain, the sensation of being torn apart, was gone and Julia was holding his hand, providing comfort as she always did. So tired, he thought. So safe...

"I know you're tired, Barnabas, but try to answer my questions. Just stay with me for a little while, then we'll go back to Collinwood and see if we can't put an end to this."

"An end- " He gripped her hand with his. "I do not wish it to end, Julia. I wish merely to hear you say that you will be mine. Then the discomfort will cease for good. I know it will. Sarah told me it would."

She shook her head. "Barnabas..." A rueful smile graced her angular features but he didn't see it, couldn't see it, his eyes were truly closed now, his respirations slowing, easing.

"Don't leave me, Julia. Please, don't leave me."

 * * *

Chapter 15

The trip to Collinwood was a quiet if tense one on Julia's part. It had begun to sleet shortly after they left Wyndecliffe, forcing her to peer through the windshield with narrowed eyes. Barnabas had dozed much of the time, the heavy, boneless sleep of exhaustion, while Julia berated herself for not having been more aware of his condition.

In fairness, however, she couldn't recall any evidence of malaise on his part prior to the night of the dinner dance. He'd been more attentive than usual but-- She grimaced at the thought: had she been so flattered, so befuddled by the unusual attention, that she'd been oblivious to his physical condition?

But no, she didn't think so. He'd looked good of late. Oh, he always looked good to her, but he'd looked healthy, his normally pale skin taking on a warmer tint, his cheeks graced with a touch of pink.

He woke with a gasp, sat straighter in the seat. "Julia- "

Without looking away from the road, she reached out and held his wrist between her fingers, feeling at once for the frantic surge she'd seen evidenced in the EKG. "I'm here, Barnabas. It's all right. I'm right here."

He sighed and sank back against the seat.

"Barnabas, why didn't you tell me what was happening sooner?" she asked in her least judgmental voice. Her fingers remained firmly on his pulse point for a long moment before returning to the wheel. She'd felt it- the rapid pounding, then the almost unbelievably swift return to his normal rate.

She sensed him shaking his head. "As I told you earlier, it happened slowly, subtly. At first it was pleasant- a feeling of anticipation. Then the night of the dinner dance it became less pleasant, more a feeli ng of dread at the thought of being separated from you, even for the few hours of sleep I knew you required."

"Can you tell me more about your dream?"

"My dream," he repeated.

"Yes. You said you dreamed of Sarah. That she came to you. Told you- " she drew a breath, forced herself to say the words. "She told you that you had to admit your love for me."

"She did," he replied simply. "And she was correct. I've known that I was in love with you for some time now. I didn't know how to tell you, however. I'd hurt you so many times and then in 1840, after Angelique..."

Julia sighed. How could she tell him that while she loved him, had always loved him, felt almost as though she'd known him in a previous life, she didn't quite believe that he loved her. Not that way. And that she resented any supernatural creature's--yes, even Sarah's-- attempts to force them together. If that was what was happening. Which she sorely doubted. More likely he'd finally realized the past was just that- past. That he had to live in the here and now. And she was there. A constant in his disrupted life...

"We're almost there," he whispered. "Collinwood. And Sarah is waiting for us. You'll see..."

 * * *

Chapter 16

Sleet pelted them as they hurried toward the looming mansion and Julia gave a convulsive shiver. Barnabas placed his arm around her, his cape draping over her slender shoulders. "We will be inside in a moment. You will be warm, then."

"I'm--it's--Why are we here, Barnabas?" she demanded, coming to a sudden halt and facing him squarely.

"Why are we--To see the painting," he didn't say it but of course was distinctly implied. "Come, let us go inside." He placed his hand at the small of her back, urging her onward. "Come. You're chilled, weary and your coat will soon be soaked."

 * * *

Chapter 17

They stood before the painting, eyes upturned as they studied it. "There, do you see, Julia? Look--look at the angel. It bears Sarah's features. You have met her. You can verify it for yourself. And here--" he drew a locket from his vest, opened it. "This is a miniature that was painted of her in 1794. Look--you can see that it is the same face."

"Barnabas--"

"And look, Julia. Look at the faces of the lovers. They bear our features. There is no denying it."

Julia felt the urge to run, to put as much distance between herself and the painting as she could. "Barnabas--" She took a backward step, her finger tips going to her cheeks.

"Don't you see, Julia? Sarah is watching over us as she has for so long now. She loves me, Julia and she has come to love you as well. She knew before I did what I was feeling for you. Julia--"

Julia took another step away, "No--" she whispered, her hands now going to her chest. .

"You feel it, don't you? She is watching us even now. I know you were frightened, Julia, are frightened, but can't you tell, can't you feel it? There is nothing evil in this painting, only love."

Julia took a third step. Her heart was racing, pounding painfully against her breastbone. "No," she murmured. "No." Another step back, her chest throbbing. Tiny lights danced in front of her eyes. "No-" Her lips formed the word but no sound issued from her white lips as slowly, as though her bones had turned to liquid, she crumpled to the floor.

 * * *

Chapter 18

"What--who is it? Oh! Mr. Barnabas, it's you," Mrs. Johnson exclaimed as she hurried from the nether regions of the great house. "Why--Doctor Hoffman! What's wrong with her? What happened?"

Barnabas paused for a moment at the midpoint of the elegant staircase. Easing the beloved burden he bore, he said simply, "She's fainted, Mrs. Johnson. It was a difficult drive back from Wyndecliffe and I don't believe she has eaten much today. I know she has not had any lunch. Perhaps--" He left the sentence unfinished, knowing the housekeeper would understand what he was requesting.

She didn't disappoint him. "Take her upstairs to her room. I'll bring te a. Some toast. And maybe--" Sarah Johnson didn't approve of drinking, there was altogether too much of it in this house, but in this case, well, this was medicinal. "Maybe a bit of brandy wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. I knew I could count on you," Barnabas replied as he resumed his upward climb.

 * * *

Chapter 19

She tried to move, couldn't quite do so, inhibited as she was by--what? She forced her eyes open, relieved when they at least obeyed her commands.

"Julia."

She turned her head to the voice. "Barnabas?"

"Yes, my dear. I am here."

"What--how--" she looked around, recognizing her bedroom at Collinwood. She lay, semi-reclining, on a mound of pillows, the blankets tucked closely about her. "What happened? How did I get here?" she demanded even as memory was returning. "Barnabas--the p ain. My heart--"

He took her hand in his. "It's all right, Julia. I am with you. You will be fine so long as we are together and I have no intention of leaving you. Ever."

She pushed herself up so she was sitting almost erect, watched the room sway for a moment. "I won't do it, Barnabas."

He stared at her, confused. "Do what, Julia?"

"I won't let myself be dictated to. Not by you. Not by a painting. Not by some supernatural creature. Not by your sister. Not by anyone."

"Dictated--"

"Forced into your arms against your will, against my will--I won't do it, Barnabas."

"It is not against my will, Julia, and I had not thought it against yours either. I had long believed you to love me. I didn't understand it, couldn't understand how you could love one such as I, but I believed that you did all the same."

"I--" she began but he placed a finger on her lips, hushing her.

"No, let me speak, Julia. Let me tell you what is in my heart. I have loved you for a long time now. At first I didn't recognize the emotion for what it was, but it existed. Willie forced me to admit it years ago. Later, I feared for you so I hid it, denied it, called it friendship. And it was friendship. But it was so much more, too. It was the greatest friendship, the friendship that bin d s one heart to another with a golden cord. A fragile seeming thing, but stronger than it appears. When the cord is stretched, strained, however, it causes a tearing of the organs involved. That is what we have experienced, Julia, the tearing of our hearts . I do not wish to experience it ever again. Please, say that you will be mine. That our hearts will be as one, even when we are apart. Please, Julia-"

"Barnabas, I--"

"Please, Julia," a small voice said from near the window. "Please say you will be my sister. I've wanted you to be my sister for such a long time now. And Barnabas--Barnabas is telling you the truth. He does love you. Has loved you now for a long time. But he has been frightened to tell you. Now he has finally told you. I won't force you. I'm sorry if you felt that you were being forced. I was simply trying to make him understand his own feelings. He has been a little silly where women are concerned, you know." 

"Sarah," Barnabas whispered, staring at the figure in pink. "Sarah, you're here-"

"Silly," Julia repeated.

"Oh, yes." Sarah replied. Moving to the side of Julia's bed, she continued. "Quite silly. Josette--she was sweet. But she didn't love Barnabas nearly enough. If she had, she never would have succumbed to Angelique's spell. She never would have married Jeremiah. And Angelique," the ghost turned her eyes upon her brother, "Angelique's love was a sick love, Barnabas. Surely you knew th a t, even then. Love is a giving of oneself. Angelique never gave anyone anything. Everything had a price. Your love for her, your marriage to her, was the price of my life. Except that love doesn't work that way. It can't. Love isn't selfish, Barnabas. You know that now, you've seen it in the way Julia has cared for you through all these years. Now it is up to the two of you. I can't force you to accept the love you have for each other, to build upon that love. All I can do is love the two of you from afar and hope that you will love each other more and more now that Angelique and her evil have passed from your lives."

Sarah took a step away from the bed and suddenly Julia could see through her, see the grey daylight from the window through her.

"Wait--don't go," Barnabas pleaded and Julia saw that his cheeks were wet with tears. "When will we see you again?"

"You don't have to see me," Sarah replied. "But I will see you, Barnabas. I will watch over you and Julia as my image watches over yours in the pain ting. Be good to Julia, brother. And Sister Julia, let him see your love. Hidden, your love has changed him from a monster to a man once more. Imagine how much good it will do when you reveal it in its full intensity."

She took another step away, now barely visible to their straining eyes. "Good-bye, Barnabas. Good-bye, Sister Julia. I love you both. Remember that always," she said, her voice now as soft as a summer breeze. 

"Sarah--wait!" Barnabas exclaimed just as a knock came on the door and Mrs. Johnson entered bearing a tray with short legs.

"Were you calling me, sir?" she inquired as she placed the tray over Julia's lap. "I'm glad to see you're feeling a bit better, Doctor Hoffman. I was going to call a doctor, but you've been caring for all of us for so long I didn't quite know who to call."

Julia wiped a sly tear from her cheek and smiled at the housekeeper. "I'm fine now, Mrs. Johnson. I was just tired."

"And hungry, Mr. Barnabas said," the housekeeper added, nodding toward the man who'd moved to stand in front of the window, his back to them.

"Yes, hungry, too," Julia answered. "Sometimes--well, sometimes I seem to forget to eat."

Sarah Johnson shook her head and made a "tsk" sound. "And you a doctor," she chided. Taking a final look to make sure that everything was well, she headed for the door. "It's the oddest thing. That painting Miss Carolyn purchased. Everyone has been saying how much it looks like the two of you but I can't see it. I just can't see it at all. It's too blurry. I don't see how you could say it looks like anyone in particular. People get such silly notions, don't they?" Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "Rest now, Doctor. And you, Mr. Barnabas--don't you be keeping her awake. She needs to sleep."

So saying, Sarah Johnson pulled the door shut behind her.

"Julia," Barnabas murmured, lowering himself carefully onto the edge of the bed so as not to upset the tray the housekeeper had brought. "Julia--I don't--that is, my sister seems not to have left much for me to say."

"She didn't leave much for either of us to say," Julia replied.

"No, she didn't," he answered ruefully. "However, there is one thing only I can say." Going down on one knee beside the bed, he took her hands in his. "Will you marry me, Julia Hoffman?"

She smiled at him through tears that once again threatened to fall. "I will, Barnabas Collins. Yes, I will marry you."

And somewhere, far away, but not too far away, a young girl dressed all in pink giggled happily as the lovers struggled to embrace without upsetting the tea pot and cups on the tray spanning Julia's lap.

THE END