Barnabas sat up and found himself sitting in a snow bank within the familiar grounds of Wyndcliffe, it was evening and already dark, but he could see the red glass skull, dark against the snow beside him, and his hand hurt terribly. He held it up and could feel that it was blistered and throbbing, yet the glass skull was now already cold to the touch. Barnabas held his hand in the snow hoping to freeze out some of the burn, while he gingerly pocketed the orb in his Inverness.

He stood and brushed himself off and walked toward Wyncliffe's ornate entrance, wondering if he had succeeded in penetrating time's membrane. The automobiles that were in the parking area appeared to be of a different style than those he knew of in 1972, but he admittedly knew nothing of automobiles, so that was of no help to him in determining the year, all that mattered was that he had arrived here in time to stop Julia from driving to her death.

He entered the grand old building which from the time after the Civil War until around the turn of the century had been a popular spa that offered the 'cure' to wealthy patrons in a high, opulent style, and he was struck by the drab painted gloominess of the place. Somber to the point of being depressing, it was not at all like it would later become under Julia's administration, where it would be light and sunny, a pleasant place to heal the illnesses of the mind. Barnabas noted that it was one more thing that had been positively affected by the presence of Julia Hoffman in the world.

He made his way to the central nurses station that was still located near the grand, curved staircase which swept gracefully upward to, among other things, the administrator's private apartment, and he wondered fondly if anyone in this time shared the massive bathtub with a lover, as he had.

Barnabas found no nurse at the station, and began looking for signs of intelligent life, when he turned down a hallway and almost bumped into a group of five doctors, one a slightly older blond man who looked like the human embodiment of a tanned Adonis, and the other four were obviously tired, overworked residents. Barnabas caught his breath at the sight of the only woman among them, a young, red haired beauty with exotic green eyes he could drown in.

'So young -- my God, so young', he whispered with a kind of reverence. She was wearing her hair in a curly style that deeply waved to one side of her forehead and softly framed her face and graceful neck. Her thick eyelashes swept to the sides, casting a shadow line across her aristocratic cheekbones, and the bloom of youth and good health colored her cheeks in spite of a certain hollowness that defined them and spoke of missed meals.

The doctors barely gave Barnabas notice as they passed, and he heard the older man say, "Take five, gentlemen, I want to call the lodge and confirm my reservation." He noticed the woman's eyebrows arch, and added, "What's wrong Hoffman, offended to be treated like one of the boys?"

"No Dr. Thorson, merely surprised that the resident physicians are to be left in charge of the hospital for a week, while Dr. Mannerling is in Chicago and you are -- skiing."

"Wyndcliffe is hardly filled to capacity, Hoffman. Nothing will happen that a good group of residents can't handle. Besides, isn't that what residency is all about, a training ground to gain experience?"

She said nothing in reply, and Barnabas trailed behind them, basking in the nearness of a young woman he had never known, yet knew better than she had ever allowed any one else to know her.

When Dr. Thorson disappeared into an office, the group milled around waiting for his return, and Barnabas saw his opportunity to speak, but his hand pained him so acutely that he pulled it from his pocket and held it out, saying, "Excuse me, but I believe I need some medical attention."

The three young men seemed only mildly interested in his plight, and grabbed his raw, blistered hand, experimentally poking at it. "Does this hurt?" One of them sniffed and said, "This is not a general admissions hospital, it's a sanitarium. County Memorial can treat your hand."

"I am afraid that I find myself stranded here," said Barnabas apologetically, making up a story as he went along. "You see -- I lost control of my car on the icy road, and wrecked -- and when I tried to get it to start again -- I touched a metal -- pipe under the -- hood -- and burned my hand."

"Well, you still wound up at the wrong place, old fella," said another young doctor. "We are psychiatrists here, we specialize in illnesses of the mind, not injuries."

"How did you three manage to skip all of your general medicine classes and still graduate," said the young Dr. Julia Hoffman, frowning with irritation at them. "The Hippocratic oath is the same for all branches of medicine." She gently cradled Barnabas' large hand in her own soft one to visually inspect the burn before asking him to follow her to an examination room.

One of the three male doctors pressed close to her and warned in a loud whisper, "Careful Jules, don't let him get too close, he was drooling on himself back there following you down the hall."

"Stop it," she demanded in a stern voice.

"I mean it, he was giving you the once over. You can't trust any of these dirty old men, they go around wearing a Sherlock Holmes cape, trying to get girls alone in an examination room, and then they take off the coat and you find out the pants legs are just strapped on above the knee."

Julia pushed him backward with her open hand against his clavicle and said, matter of factly, "You're a swine, Rob."

"I know." he grinned, obviously not insulted, and loitered at the doorway.

Julia asked Barnabas to remove his coat, and assisted him in sliding it off over his hand. Too involved with hanging up the garment on a hook, she didn't notice that his eyes were drinking her in, his face registering private emotions not meant for others to see. As she began assembling the tools of her trade on a medical tray, she asked him to sit on the examination table.

The offensive young doctor was still standing in the doorway watching Barnabas watching Julia, and casually asked, "Are you going away with Thorson for the week?"

"Rob --" Julia growled his name as a warning, while trying to maintain her composure as she put Barnabas' hand into a bowl of prepared solution to soak, and said, "This will take some of the sting out of the burns, and clean the area. Please keep your hand still until I return." She then turned and pushed the other resident into the hall. "How dare you say that to me!" she said in a low voice.

"Well, come on Jules, everyone knows he asked you. It's the talk of the nurse's lounge. You can't keep anything a secret in a place like this."

Julia's eyes narrowed to menacing slits. "I did not work this hard for my medical degree, only to become an object of vulgar gossip!"

"Hey, don't kill the messenger," he spread his hands defensively. "But it's pretty obvious by the way you look at him that you wouldn't object."

"What do you mean -- the way I look at him!" Julia snapped back, her throaty voice raised an octave.

"Cool down Jules, merely an observation. Maybe you just didn't realize. But whenever he gets you in those little tete a tetes, it's all over your face that you'd like him to be all over you."

"You disgusting. --- !"

"Whoa, it's not me -- I know you're not that kind of girl -- but that's what the others are saying." He shrugged. "You knew you'd have to fight the 'anti-female doctor' syndrome before you entered med school. What do you expect? You're pretty and you don't try very hard to hide it. What are people supposed to think?"

"They're supposed to think that I am a competent doctor whom they can trust with their care." Her eyes flashed. "I graduated at the top of my class and put in a more strenuous internship than any of the rest of you 'Sons of Thor." Her sarcasm dripped from each word.

"Well -- okay," he said in a patronizing manner as he took visual inventory of her figure. "But an old lady conservative gray tweed suit would help, and you're going to have to play down the rest -- wear some of those ugly orthopedic stockings wrinkled down around some flat shoes or something." He half pointed to her legs, "Those high heeled shoes make your legs look too sexy. Just ask the dirty old man in there, he's been giving them a pretty good look."

"Get OUT!"

"Hey, I'm just telling you as a friend. If a friend won't tell you, who will?"

Julia grabbed a large-needled hypodermic syringe from nearby and held it aloft like a weapon as she turned on him.

"Okay Jules," he said over his back as he retreated. "but you'd better get a handle on that temper of yours while you're at it. Not many psycho, sharp-pointed-object wielding residents ever make it into private practice."

When he had gone, and Julia won the lifelong fight to once again gain control of her temper, Barnabas watched her back stiffen and her chin raise as she took a deep breath before returning to him. Her face was bright red, but she calmly placed the syringe in the tray table and quietly resumed attending to his hand. Finally she spoke in a subdued voice, not making eye contact with him.

"I apologize for what you just heard. It was an inexcusable display, but I assure you that I am quite capable of tending to your injury."

"I was never in doubt of your professional abiities, doctor. In fact -- up to now, I've found your compassion and gentle ministrations to be something that should be required of all physicians."

She raised her green eyes to his dark ones, and he had to fight the urge to embrace her, to hold her until all of the anger and pain were gone from those lustrous eyes.

"Forgive me for asking doctor, but this is New Years Eve, is it not. It hardly seems fair that you have to work tonight. Must you remain on duty throughout the night?"

"Yes," she gave him a small but lovely smile. He had always thought she was beautiful when she smiled. "This is my night on rotation. There has to be a staff member on duty at all times," she said as explanation, "and tonight is my turn."

"Then you can't leave the hospital tonight to celebrate at all?"

"No," she said with no trace of regret. "But then I've never thought much of drunken brawls as a way to celebrate."

Barnabas felt as if a mountain of weight had been lifted from his chest. Perhaps his appearance in this time would be the only counterbalance necessary to change history. If he could keep her from leaving the hospital, then the accident would never happen.

She finished treating his hand and began to carefully bandage it in white gauze. "I'll give you some tablets, an analgesic for pain, and you are to take one when you need it. Just don't drive after taking it. I'm afraid your hand will be painful for a couple of days. If it keeps you from sleeping, take a tablet." Her throaty voice was soft and reassuring, already so much like the mature voice he loved. "I'd like for you to see your regular physician as soon as possible, your hand will need re-dressing to keep the injury antiseptic while it heals." She noticed a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and his face became so gently amused that she had to wonder why and tilted her head in a mannerism of curiosity. "You do have a regular physician?"

"Yes -- yes, I have." He appeared to think of something and said, "Doctor, I find myself in a temporarily embarrassing position."

"Oh?"

"You see, my car is wrecked down the road, and all of my family are -- unavailable to come here for me until tomorrow. Would it be -- permissible -- for me to remain here until I can contact someone to come for me? I realize that this is not a public hospital, but if I could just remain in the lobby, I promise that I will stay out of trouble and will cause no inconvenience to anyone until then." His charming smile coaxed out a smile of her own.

"Of course, you can't be expected to go back out into the cold, and if no one can get here for you until tomorrow, then I'll arrange for a room for you to stay overnight."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother, we have a number of empty rooms. I'm sure you realize what sort of hospital this is, so I must ask you not to go walking around the halls."

"I understand."

She finished bandaging his hand and stood. "I'll bring some water for you to take a pain tablet now." She paused at the door and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name."

"It's --"

"Julie!" The young doctor who had poked Barnabas' burned palm leaned into the doorway. "Thorson wants to see you." Julia followed him, leaving Barnabas with his unspoken name on his lips.

to be continued.

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