LOVELAND - Chapter 1 (Valentine’s Challenge)

by Catharine L.

Rated: PG-13

February 7, 1971

His eyes raised just barely enough that she would not notice he was studying her as she continued to sip her after-dinner tea. Barnabas Collins had not been blessed with her astute talent that so embraced her. At that moment, he wished he had. She had the keen ability to read a person’s motive; a special insight to distinguish between truth and fiction in their words. For just one second, he wanted to imitate her trained eye and find the answer to a question that now would plague him as if his life depended on it.

Almost immediately after returning from 1840, Julia Hoffman returned to a heavy workload at Wyndcliffe, easily falling into the routine of a full-time schedule. She had never discussed or even brought up the reason to him for the change in her daily routine.  During the last four weeks, she methodically kept to the same pattern. After sharing Sunday dinner with the Collins family, she would leave for the 100 mile drive ahead of her to Wyndcliffe and return the same trek on Friday night. It didn’t suit him. For the first time in his life, he felt truly alone. No one’s conversation could pass the time easily; no book contained a fascination that couldn’t easily be put down without a sigh of regret. And in the midst of the bitter winter, the walks along the jagged shores were the only company he sought daily...the only solace that could somewhat ease the emptiness he felt. After all, it was just another season that he glorified...another season to bless the sun. 

Here it was again the day he dreaded the most--Sunday. After excusing themselves from the dinner table, he and Julia would spend a few relaxed moments together alone in the study at Collinwood over a cup of tea. He had never taken to the likes of the strong bitter taste of coffee. An old New Englander, like himself, still appreciated a fine brew of whose tax from the English had tipped the scales enough for the Colonists to declare war.

On this particular day, he noticed she seemed more anxious and uneasy than the norm. Her eyes would continually glance down for a quick look at the time on her wristwatch. It was that time for her departure and they would once again casually say their good-byes, as if the absence of the other would not matter.

“Is it time for you to leave...to return to Wyndcliffe?” he asked as if he didn’t know.

Her eyes shifted up once more from her watch, the time changing by only a minute from her last quick peek. Without even a hint of what was to come, she answered his question in a composed and normal voice.

“I won’t be leaving for Wyndcliffe this evening, Barnabas.  Things are settling down...enough so I can take a few days off.”

Something inside him relaxed, yet before he could settle back with a sigh of relief, she added, “But I’ll be leaving for a short trip to the mountains.”

“A trip? How long shall you be?” It automatically came out of his mouth and why not. That was what was important to him, wasn’t it...how long she would be away from him, leaving him to face the world alone, as he counted each day of her absence as if marked on a calendar.

“Oh...I don’t really know. I haven’t set a time limit on it. Grant Stewart owns a cabin near a little town called Loveland and he has invited me to stay as long as I wish.”

Now he thought he had discovered the reason why she had been away for the last month. The opportunity had presented a new acquaintance in her life...she had set her eye on another.

“Grant Stewart?”

“Yes...he’s a psychologist on staff at Wyndcliffe.”

“I see. And is he meeting you there?” he asked as his eyebrow lifted, anxious to give the third degree.

“Barnabas!” 

She quickly reminded him of his manners. “A gentleman should not ask such a question.” 

It was that remark that made him wish to be able to read what truth hid behind her sparse words and those large, now teasing, eyes. 

There was an unnatural hush. With a growing sense of foreboding, his head began to fill with speculation. Uncontrolled images of sensual fantasies jumped around, taunting his conscious mind. 

He cleared his throat. “I think I understand fairly well...” he stated with obvious disapproval.

“No...I don’t think you do.”

His subtle implication caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle, as she quickly placed the teacup to her lips to hide her grin. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of an answer and if it was the slightest hint of jealousy developing in those dark eyes of his...well...let it just remain there. Call it poetic justice as she felt a trifle smug and of the years between them and his own infatuations.

The scenario was already imprinted into his imagination--a cozy tryst in an isolated cabin in the mountains with this doctor she just mentioned, in a place called for such a reason...a land of love. He felt an involuntary shiver, an inner tremble, that would soon be the first of many.

“Julia...”

“Yes?”

“Is there a telephone number where I can reach you...that is...in case of an emergency?”

“You can reach me through Wyndcliffe, Barnabas. They have the number and will get in touch with me...*if* the circumstance is needed.” 

A feeling of total helplessness swept over him. His jaw tensed visibly as he felt his life sinking. The audacity of that woman.  She wasn’t even going to provide a lifeline through the extension of a phone wire.

Julia rose from her chair and walked passed him as if she wasn’t even going to say goodbye. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, he felt a panic flood his body causing an unsteady beat to the heart as he anxiously blurted out, “Julia! Will I see you before you leave?”

She hesitated momentarily, holding the door knob, as she turned to look over her shoulder. “I don’t think so, Barnabas. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. It’s a long day’s drive.” With a quick smile in his direction, she started to pull the door open, then added, “So...if you’ll excuse me. I have to attend to my packing.”

With a curt nod hiding his new distress, she left leaving him standing chin high in his discontent which threatened to rise even more and drown him.

What was the name of that town she had mentioned...Loveland.  Its name alone made him cringe with the severity of its implications. He couldn’t endure the thought of Julia in the arms of a man...any man. His narrow-mindedness had long before placed Julia into a stereotype that no woman would care to be in.  He had the misplaced idea she was a particular breed of woman who had no use for romance...didn’t need what he himself led his own life by.

With a few quick steps, he searched the shelves of books that remained neatly in order in Elizabeth’s extensive library. Any book, perhaps an atlas, could solve the mystery of Julia’s destination. The first hope he came upon was a hardcover titled THE STATES OF THE NORTHEAST. His long fingers ran down the pages of print, searching for the town with a corrupting proposal, until he came upon its description.

“Loveland - A picturesque town nestled between the rich forests of the mountains on the banks of the Eagle River. Loveland hosts thousands of weddings each year, noted for the perfect place for a romantic getaway or for the most memorable of honeymoons.  The waive of traditional legalities in obtaining a marriage license is one of the main attractions to this unofficial honeymoon capital of the Northeast. For the couple who wish to be wedded without a moment’s notice, there is no waiting period, and blood tests are not needed as long as both parties are 18 or older. 

Loveland...a gentle quiet place for promises of the heart.”

Barnabas slammed the book shut, his eyes now registering the sudden panic he felt. He began to nervously rub his hands together, feel the unwelcome heartburn rise in his throat. It was worse than he thought. He was going to lose her to a quick “I do” in a wedding that wasn’t even his own...but for which he would remember for a lifetime.

~~~*~~~

Julia had placed, the night before, a few good books and medical journals into the trunk of her car along with one bag of luggage.  There were no plans to meet with Grant Stewart. To her, he was just a fellow co-worker and though she had seen interest expressed in his eyes and actions, only one held hers...and that was Barnabas. He was the only one that filled her heart and mind, but she needed the time to be alone and reconsider what laid ahead...if there was anything to consider. Grant was an attractive man and though he didn’t make her heart flutter, Barnabas had offered her no hope of a future shared together other than what they shared now. Love is not always convenient. Now, for her, it was an emotional overload. 

She closed the door to Collinwood behind her. The sun had not yet peered above the horizon and the morning hours still were filled with the night’s total darkness. She carried her remaining bag of essentials with her and, opening the trunk, placed them beside the others. Quietly she closed the trunk, not wanting to wake the others still asleep in the mansion. With an energized focus, she opened the driver’s side door and slid onto the cold leather seat still stiff from the frigid nighttime temperatures. 

“Good morning, Julia,” he said with a pleasant smile as he startled her.

“Barnabas! What are you doing here?” She flicked him a questioning glance as she noticed the mist from their warm breaths rise within the cold confines of the car, merging together.  The hopeless thought came to her that it was the only warmth from their bodies that would ever join.

“I suppose you could say I am altering your plans somewhat. Last night...after some consideration...I decided I do not think it is wise for a woman to be traveling alone. So...,” he replied in his most courteous manner, accompanied by a charming smile, “I have decided to put aside my schedule and join you on your journey.”  His schedule of waiting, that is.

“I don’t recall inviting you,” she added with a sharp bluntness.

“Julia!” he said with a false look of surprise. “I thought...by now...with everything we have shared between us as friends, an invitation was not needed.”

Right away she saw behind the pretense of his sudden loss of 18th century etiquette, but he continued to plead in his defense, testing his skills as a diplomat. His chin lowered as his face registered the most sincerest of thoughts.

“I am more concerned for your well-being and safety. It is a matter that extends beyond proper manners.”

Manners were ingrained within him, carved into his bones, and they would never fade. Just the same as the scar left on his chin, they would always remain. His provincial charm was not working on her. He was up to something more and if it had to do with the mention of a man’s name the night before that was causing such concern, then why not let him have the roller coaster ride that jealousy provides.

Julia’s eyes squinted, as her lower lip protruded firmly, and he recognized her warning sign. “What if I told you I’d rather you didn’t come along?” she quickly countered, her throat tightening.

A look of determination came into his eyes as his gaze held onto hers. He lowered his voice and his words were firmly but painfully clear. The charm was melting. “Unless you can physically remove me from your vehicle, my dear, I intend to accompany you.” 

At that moment, the look she sent him gave him no doubt that she might meet the challenge.

“Barnabas,” she spouted in retaliation with a clear understanding, “there is a vast difference between chivalry and chauvinism.” 

“Really, Julia. You can be the most exasperating woman.” He turned his noble head with a cowardly retreat. “Shall we go?”

Julia hesitated for a moment, then sighed. It will always remain a man’s world with those attitudes from the dark ages. He had had his occasional frolicking he disguised as “love”, and now that it seemed that the shoe was on the other foot, he had slyly maneuvered himself into her plans. So much for wanting time by herself.

“You always win. Don’t you, Barnabas?” she relented, realizing she had repeated those same words to him once before. The passing years had not relinquished their own private war between the sexes. And each, in their own stubborn pride, were still vying for the title of victor.

With a satisfied expression on his face, he waved his hand in a gesture to be off.

The small pebbles of limestone spun from the wheels as she shifted from first gear into second with a quick speed. A cloud of dust followed behind them in a trail down the mile long trek to the end of the drive.

~~~*~~~

All rationality had vanished from any regions of sanity once Barnabas Collins heard of Julia’s plans. Just how he was going to handle the situation when they arrived at the cabin, he was not quite sure of. 

To head into battle, the wisest of generals needed a strategic plan--a good move on their part to conquer the enemy. There had been choices in his life that had brought more catastrophic consequences than he preferred to recall. Mistakes had come from these unwise choices and he would rather not live with another. Age had not made Barnabas Collins practical--not even an additional century that others are not granted in the normal life span. 

Theirs had been a comfortable relationship...a caring friendship that brought to him whatever sense of security he could find in this modern world. The factors needed to get through life was rolled up into a neat supportive package named Julia Hoffman.  Security, guidance, and wisdom in this woman’s compact frame was his physical and emotional survival kit with her own inner compass always giving the right direction. They had their differences, but it was that straightforward strength she possessed--his own built-in babysitter-- that was his heartbeat needed to survive. He wasn’t about to allow anything to endanger the lifeline that furnished the nourishment he needed for the future ahead of him.

He heard the car engine come to a whine as the car nosed towards the downward slope, nearing a bend. He sat up, his body stiffing, as he watched her tireless skill hug the mountain curves one after the other on the narrow road.

“Watch the numbers on the mailboxes, could you Barnabas? We should be coming up on it soon.”

She slowed down as he read each address as they increased in number until they came upon a wooden mailbox in the shape of a small log cabin.

“14E Stewart,” he read.

Her car turned off the paved surface, crossing the small wooden bridge over the mountain stream.

“Where is it, Julia? I don’t see it.”

“Grant said it was about a quarter mile off the road on the mountainside.”

The gravel drive winded and inclined upward as she maneuvered her car around the potholes, the tires crunching the thin sheet of ice that covered them, until the cabin came into sight. It was slightly hidden from view, surrounded by the thick virgin forests that covered the mountaintops. The four-sided building was constructed of round logs--one stacked upon the other--stained in a natural color of pine wood. A porch spanned its front length, overlooking the mountain stream that continuously flowed...never drying up or freezing of its contents.

She placed her foot on the brake as the car came to a halt. They both leaned forward as they peered out the windshield, staring at the structure in front of them.

“Barnabas! It’s beautiful! Grant didn’t tell me much about it other than I would fall in love with it.”

“Did he?” he mumbled in his troubled voice. 

The cedar sign hanging by two chains from the porch beam swung in the breeze above the steps. “Welcome To The Lovenest” it read, adding more credence to his fears and worries about Dr. Stewart’s intentions.

“Well...shall we get out?” she asked as he eyed the swinging sign suspiciously.

***

Julia inserted the key Grant had given her into the lock and swung the door open. The scent of pine swept past them, introducing the conventional house dwellers to the first aspect of log living. She quickly reached for a light switch adjacent to the door as the ceiling lights lit up the room. The cabin was small, at first glance, and she quickly ventured through the rooms sheltered under the red tin roof. Barnabas remained in the great room as he tried to comprehend what stood before his feet.

A few minutes passed and Julia returned, removing her coat as she hung it on the rack against the wall. 

“Well, Barnabas...”. She took a deep breath, then sighed. “The cabin is somewhat smaller than I expected. There seems to be only two rooms...this great room that we’re standing in now and the one bedroom.” She looked at him and he seemed oblivious to what she had just said and the problem it posed ahead for them.  “Barnabas? Did you hear what I said?”

He continued to peer down, almost hypnotically, at the floor in front of him. 

“Julia...what is this?”

She looked at him blankly as if it was the most natural thing to see.

“It’s a bath tub, Barnabas.”

“But its color is scarlet and shaped as a heart! Why would one need such a peculiar shape and size?”

“Not one, Barnabas...two.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a tub for two people...a couple.” 

He turned his head, just for a second, to look and see if she was serious. The old slipper-shaped metals he was accustomed to and still used in the Old House (which remained devoid of modern plumbing), was strictly made for a person half his size. The thought had never occurred to him that the modern world was making them in all shapes and colors...and for more than one person. Tubs, in his day, were solely for one purpose--to cleanse the body once a week in a tiresome chore. And once was more frequent than many others who never bothered to let their bodies immerse in waters for that purpose.

He continued to look, with fascination, down at the whimsical tub built into the pine floor. “But why is it in this room and in front of a window?”

The humor in the situation and his own discomfort of it was surmounting as she attempted to suppress the laughter already building in her hazel eyes. Julia admitted to herself she was enjoying this little episode and it was getting more difficult with each amusing moment. She decided he asked for it--didn’t he--shamelessly wiggling his way into her plans.

“Oh...a little wine, some bubbles, even a little fragrant oil are wonderful stimulants surrounded by this view. The moment can last for hours.” She turned her head as she admired the side of the mountain looming in front of the large picture window.

“A bath?”

Julia cleared her throat, slowly shaking her head. “No, Barnabas...”. She stopped before using the more popular frequent phrase, even the clinical term, and pulled out the word more appropriate to his romantic ears.

“Lovemaking, Barnabas.”

He felt that nagging involuntary shutter again and once more had to turn to see if she was pulling his leg. “Hours?” as his eyebrows raised to new heights in awe of the amazing feat.

“Why not?” as she casually shrugged her shoulders, then flashed him a wicked grin as if she was more well-informed of the subject than he. “Barnabas...this cabin is apparently designed for a romantic getaway. That’s why there is this particular style of tub and the round bed.”

It would have taken an earthquake to sway his attention away from his curiosity of the heart-shaped tub...and that earthquake had just rumbled.

“A round bed?”

“Take a look.” She gestured her auburn head in the direction towards the bedroom as she continued to stifle her giggles behind his back.

The proper gentleman from the 18th century stepped cautiously towards the bedroom door, slowly pushing it open with a slight hesitation. But the old expression is correct. Curiosity always gets the better of you. His eyes held like magnets to a bedroom that was designed for more than just sleeping. Mirrored panels, fastened on the ceiling, sparkled from the glare of the sunlight that bounced from the flowing stream as if a spotlight shone down upon the round bed--ready to demonstrate its extra features to willing participants.

The blood ran quickly out of his rosy cheeks from the weather--his pale complexion returning in seconds--leaving his face even whiter than before.

“Oh dear,” he mumbled without realizing he had said it.

What was the new expression he often heard the young people chant? MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR! The modern world had taken the privacy of romance and stretched it beyond his century’s imagination, obviously concocting new approaches to obtain the ultimate sensation...and flaunting it at that. Romance had certainly turned into a commodity in this day and age.

He, himself, had only a few encounters with the opposite sex--that is of the physical sort. Angelique had been his last conquest and hadn’t he paid the ultimate price for that dreadful mistake the impulsiveness of passion had taken him? Syphilis ran rampant from brief alliances in his time. Life was difficult enough and one did not need the burden of insanity that the communicable disease could bring when left untreated. Choosing an experienced partner for a brief interlude was a precarious decision and caution was advised. Better yet...the old words of wisdom to “keep your barn door closed” had some obvious merit.

Julia heard him swallow--as if his throat had gone dry--as he said in a harsh whisper, “I’ve lived a long life, Julia...but I believe I have just seen it all.”

It was nice to feel the tension slip away that laughter provides as Barnabas surprisingly heard Julia lose her battle to a raucous laugh he never knew was in her.

~~~*~~~

The days had passed too quickly and the couple settled into the tranquility of mountain living with new memories too sweet to forget. His emotional upheaval from the beginning of the week swiftly subsided and Barnabas no longer felt the need to look over his shoulder for the arrival of Grant Stewart. So far, the existence of luck was on his side and staying.

The problem of one bed with two people was quickly solved by the sleeper sofa in the great room. It was not as comfortable as he would have preferred, but he had slept on worse--even the hard ground as a substitute when nothing was available in his travels during his youth. Progress had now seemed to have kept most weary travelers from such extremes.

The pleasant sensation of peace and quiet lingered in their new atmosphere and neither managed to rub the other’s nerves. It was a feeling of unconcerned ease they had never before experienced together...an opportunity to get back to what really matters. 

Barnabas knew he had a strong emotional dependence on Julia and was afraid of losing her for that reason. But then he began to realize the other possibilities that hid behind his frenzied panic.  He felt something for her...that was apparent. There was no other woman like her. She was an original--not of the same mold of women he was accustomed to that made him feel easy to be in control. From the very onset of their unique relationship, Julia had confused him, frightened him with her strength and confidence. He had created a separate room in his mind, whose door he never opened. And inside this sealed off room held hazy thoughts too complicated to explore, bringing only weariness to his uncertainty. 

Love--true love--can make you vulnerable; the fear of exposing yourself completely leaves you afraid. Julia, herself, was not one to acknowledge her own pain. But he had nothing to hide of himself that Julia had not already seen and she continued to remain at his side. The only fear left within him was his own fear of exposing the deep feelings he felt for her. But the defensive barriers were melting away just as the delicate snow flakes that fell upon his padded shoulders.

The wood smoke lifted from the stone chimney and billowed above the cabin as it mingled with the mountain mist, creating a blanket of gray flannel above them. Snow covered the top of the highest peaks with a pure whiteness from the heavens and a light shower of flurries gently fell through the bare branches of the trees.

The chill in the air did not hamper their long walks along the rocky stream; instead they both experienced a pleasant warmth that neither verbally expressed to the other. Julia was a few steps ahead of him as he followed her along a path and he suddenly stopped as he watched her walk against the backdrop of such serenity and beauty...a natural beauty that included her. The short reddish wisps of her wavy hair were specked with snow as it gently tousled in disarray from the wind, but he found it flattering.  She was a handsome woman...a fine pedigree bred with strength and endurance, unlike the sweet innocence he showed partiality to. He began to see the emergence of the woman and the delicacy that hid behind her strength. 

Barnabas drew a deep breath of the clear, crisp mountain air into his lungs. The thought of their tangible bond overwhelmed him--a bond unlike that he had ever shared with another. They had become a part of each other, carrying the other inside as if they had experienced the most intimate act between a man and a woman.

She stopped and turned briefly. Her smile was warm and she extended her hand, waiting for him to catch up. It was at that moment, Barnabas wanted to take her in the round bed for reasons other that it was made for and perhaps even experience the pleasures that the large red tub could provide. He grinned as he just figured it all out for himself what his solution could be.

His steps were faster as his own cold hand reached around hers, both warming the others as they returned to the cabin.

***

Later in the day, he was left alone. Picking up one of Julia’s books, he settled down by the fireplace as the fire smoldered and popped, the logs absorbing its heat. There was nothing romantic about a fire to him. It was an essential to brave the bitter winters against the chills settling in your bones before winter even officially arrived. The steady motion of the rocking chair gave him a soothing relaxed comfort and as he leaned further back, the creak of its legs could be heard echoing throughout the cathedral ceiling.

The slam of a car door closing took him from the slumbers of tranquility, followed by footsteps climbing the wooden stairs approaching the front door. And then, there was the intrusion of a stranger’s knock. He rose from the rocker and placed his book down upon the stone hearth before opening the door.

A tall, elderly man--his glasses steamed up from the cold--stood before him wearing a plaid overcoat and a cap to match.

“I’m looking for Dr. Hoffman,” he stated with not much friendliness in his tone as if irritated about the interruption of more important things he had to be doing during this day. His upper lip was pulled down on one side lower than the other and Barnabas suspected he was a pipe smoker.

“I’m sorry...she went into town for a few supplies. May I help you?”

The old man peered over his glasses, looking the stranger up and down, then asked, “Are you Mr. Hoffman?”

Old fears that had seemed forgotten, quickly kicked in and he felt another bothersome shutter. “Yes...yes I am,” he replied, hiding the falsity of his statement.

“Well, can you give your wife a message? I’m a neighbor from up the road and Grant Stewart called me and wanted me to tell her he would be coming down for the weekend.”

The fears and worries that had previously hounded him returned with a panic. A small tight knot formed in his stomach as he fumbled for words.

“Of course...yes...thank you. I’ll be certain that she receives the message.” Barnabas gave him a polite smile and quickly closed the door.

The time for battle was approaching. Barnabas had to think of a solid plan before Grant’s arrival in less than two days. Obviously, the problem of Mr. Stewart was not going to fade away as he had hoped. He was going to have to do some fast stepping, not only to keep Julia’s suitor away for the weekend...but for the rest of her life.

~~~*~~~

There are been no exaggeration in the words Barnabas had read in the book from Collinwood’s library. Loveland lived up to its picturesque portrayal. The little mountain town had now prospered from the constant flow of couples searching for romance, but the old flavor of its origins as a mill town had been

conscientiously preserved. The weather beaten structure had survived the elements and passing years as it continued to serve its purpose. Its large two-story wheel, powered by the rushing waters, turned the grinding stones as it did in its livelihood.

Small shops and restaurants dotted the river edge, catering to the appeal to those in love. In a particular thick stand of pines at the end of town stood a white wedding chapel that remained open to the services of all 24 hours a day, never closing. It was off-season and the crowds were smaller, due to the winter months, but there is never an off-season for those who wish to marry.

The restaurant stood on wooden piers overhanging the river’s shore and it shared a time of another century with the man that occupied a corner of its room. Originally built with square logs in the last part of the 18th century, a new addition had been added, opening up a view of the roaring whitecaps that continually flowed with a vengeance. A large sunroom was filled with linen covered tables for two, lit by candlelight and chandeliers suspended on chains hung from the rafters. Hand-forged of iron, they were much more primitive than the elegant crystal one hanging from the Old House ceiling. 

Glass panes reached from the floor to the ceiling and the flickering of the small flames reflected across their mirrored surface as if the room was surrounded by thousands of fireflies.  The couple sat at the table in the corner and through the thick panes, the roar of the waters could be heard in the background, continually rushing over the smooth-rounded rocks.

Barnabas had upset her plans. When Julia had walked through the cabin door with an armful of groceries for their dinner she was to prepare, he took the heavy bag from her arms and said they were going out. He promptly suggested she change her clothes into her finest, for which she replied she had no use to have packed what he requested. Nothing was going to stand in the way of his purpose and so, with a quick response, he announced he would buy her a new dress suitable for their evening out.

The dress he had chosen for her would not have been what she herself would have bought. Barnabas’ tastes were far more elegant than her basic, and he had chosen a feminine--yet stylish-- design. White linen with a jacket hand embroidered, it gracefully curved along her figure she rarely cared to show off. And it did not matter to him the four figure price tag he paid for the cream-colored earrings and necklace that softly glittered of iridescent pearls. They were not imitations. They were like her...a soft, yet hard gem.

He seemed to take obvious pleasure in her appearance this evening, his full attention shown only to her. Over the wavering candlelight, she searched with an inquisitive eye what his intentions were behind this rather special evening. His charm could warm any woman, including her when she let him, but she suspected that he was up to something. Throughout the evening, she couldn’t help but notice his face maintained a faintly eager look--as if he wanted to share a secret that was swelling inside him.

A psychiatrist, through their profession, obtains a second sense about them--an acute sensitivity to moods and people’s reactions--always looking for a motive to grasp and analyze, then titling it. But she decided to place her suspicious mind on a mental pause and lay her uneasiness aside, content just to enjoy the evening with him. Daydreaming was not a part of Julia Hoffman’s structure. Her imagination was not one to provide comforts and she always remained cautious with Barnabas to not make more of the moment that warranted.

He watched her lift her glass, then tilt the wine to her lips. Its color was a hue of deep red that glowed of dancing flames from candlelight. Slowly the liquid slid to her lips...lips that were full and nearly within reach of his own. 

“You look lovely this evening, my dear.”

For once, she smiled easily from his compliment. 

“Have you regrets, Julia, that I intruded on your plans for this week?” He held his breath, filled with a combination of dread and excitement, hoping her answer would be no.

Julia looked up at him reminding him, “As you’ve always done in the past, Barnabas...did I have any other choice?”

His mouth curved slightly into a sheepish grin. “No...I suppose you did not.”

Toying with the stem of his wine glass, he struggled for the words he had lived in fear of. “Would you have rather shared your vacation with someone else...perhaps with Dr. Stewart?”

Julia wondered what he wanted from her, what he was searching for. Outspoken honesty of their feelings was always avoided by both.

“Would that have mattered to you?”

“Julia...I did what I thought best.”

“For me or for yourself, Barnabas?”

He realized, with a moment of guilt, that he deserved that. She was strong-willed and stubborn as himself and she could easily stir up feelings of frustration in him. He made a concentrated effort to steer back towards his intentions for the evening.

“I care about you, Julia. I think...”.

A young woman approached their table with a professional camera in her hands. She looked down upon them with a large smile and a ready sales pitch, interrupting what he was fumbling to say. 

“You look like a couple who are here for their second honeymoon. Can I get your picture?” as she laid a claim ticket on top of the table for them to pick up later for her sale. Barnabas nodded at something that at one time would not have been possible as a vampire with no reflection. 

The photographer backed up with her camera, as she focused the couple into view. 

“Can you look into your wife’s eyes...just like the first time you told her that you loved her?” It was a typical line she used to try and capture a special look on film for a couple to keep a lifetime.  For most, who were newlyweds, that memory was still fresh.

Barnabas’ head turned towards Julia and his hand reached out across the table to cover hers. Her hands were cold and he lifted hers between his own, giving them warmth that he could now provide. His eyes sought hers in the twilight of darkness, clinging to them...exploring their smoky softness...finding himself lost in a sea of hazel. Whatever misdoubts he had carried deep within--too hidden to unearth and explore--simply faded into nonexistence...no longer needed to cowardly hide. 

Julia saw the fatigue of those doubts vanish as his eyes brightened, sensing she could read his mind...and it was filled with nothing but his need and desire for her. She felt her heart begin to soar.

“I love you,” he said in a soft, alluring voice. 

~~~*~~~

Barnabas leaned his shoulders against its rounded porcelain edge and tilted his head back, sinking more into the depth of the soapy, warm water. The steam rising off the surface invaded and relaxed his pores, calming his body. The last few hours had brought him the closest thing to heaven he had found, until he felt a blast of cold air sweep past his bare chest. A door quickly opened behind him, then he heard the interruption of a man’s voice.

“Julia?”

Barnabas turned his head around to see a shape standing in front of the doorway. The man stood taller than he was, perhaps a two to three inches more. But height was the only similarity they shared. A short beard, well-trimmed, covered his face and the clothes he wore were more casual than was his own style. His pants were made of denim and he did not share the tradition of a matching plaid coat and hat as were like all the others. This stranger was not a local.

Julia stepped out of the bedroom. Barnabas was grateful she had recognized the voice calling her not his own and had covered her body with something near decent.

“Grant!” Her voice seemed to crack with a surprised expression.  “What are you doing here?”

Her handsome co-worker exchanged a smile with her, his eye holding more than a mild interest in the light robe she had wrapped around herself. Something was rather amorous in the once-over he gave her that made her begin to feel a little uncomfortable.

“I said I would be here this weekend in my message. Didn’t you get it?”

She shook her head, then turned in the direction of the tub as she eyed Barnabas suspiciously. Grant’s own eyes followed in the same direction as he looked down at the top half of a naked man basking in the delights of *his* own tub.

“Julia...who is this man?”

Julia gave him a slightly awkward smile in view of the delicate situation. “Grant...this is....”. 

Before she could finish, Barnabas interrupted. With a winner’s smile, and in his most elegant voice, he introduced himself for the first time in his new status.

“Excuse me for not getting up. I’m Barnabas Collins...Julia’s husband.”

“Husband?” as the shocked psychologist twisted his head around towards Julia. He was still holding a bottle of champagne along with a box of chocolates resembling the shape and color of his tub. “Julia, what is he talking about?”

The new Mrs. Collins attempted to find her old mode of normal composure. “Grant, it’s rather easy to explain. Barnabas and I were married last night.”

“Married?” It was a word--a particular lifestyle--he preferred to stay away from. He had his share of failed “I do’s”, at least two, and had come to a decision in his life that basic pleasures could easily be obtained without the headaches of a commitment. 

Hair salt and peppered, his beard to match, he had more in common with the combination of his name. Suave and debonair like Cary Grant, yet mellow as a Jimmy Stewart, he was a heartthrob to any passing woman...except Julia. His overly friendly style with the female sex had made no impression on her.

“Yes!” The answer seemed far away, coming in the direction of left field from the stranger sitting in the tub. “Julia and I have known each other for quite some time,” Barnabas revealed with a possessive edge to his voice. “I’m surprised she didn’t mention it to you!”

“Grant...it was all rather sudden. I hadn’t even expected Barnabas to come along.” Julia hesitated a moment, before adding with some reflection, “In fact...he was quite adamant about joining me for some reason.”

“I see...”, the dejected suitor replied as each of the two grown men sized up the competition. “Well, Mr. Collins...you seemed to have swept Julia off her feet rather quickly.”

With his distinguished look hiding arrogance, and wearing a smile of achievement, Barnabas replied, “I suppose you could say that.  Actually...I believe the atmosphere of your quaint little cottage added to our sudden plunge into matrimony.”

That pretentious look on his face made all the pieces fall neatly into place. That look went way back with her and Julia knew the scheming that typically went behind it. Looking closely at her new husband, she knew very well the instigating factor to Barnabas’ mad rush to the chapel last night was standing right next to her. 

With a disbelieving tone and still eyeing him suspiciously, she added, “It seems that the threat of a little competition sped it along too.”

Feeling somewhat awkward with the notion of three is a crowd--and he was the odd man out--Stewart quickly fumbled for the quickest of exits. “Well...I guess I should congratulate both of you and get out of your way. I’ll just leave you two lovebirds to enjoy the Lovenest to yourselves.”

“Accepted,” Barnabas said with a smug smile. After all, there was no reason for him to stay now.

Feeling as if she had taken too much liberty of her host’s invitation, Julia interceded. “Grant...Barnabas and I can leave. It is your cabin and if you have your own plans...”

The plans he had in mind were now demolished by the dark hair man obviously gloating with victory soaking in his tub and reeking in the delights of what he intended for himself.

“No, Julia.” He shook his head as he handed her the Valentine presents still in his arms. “Consider it my wedding present to you.  I guess I should have anticipated that a catch like you was already hooked by someone else.”

Julia gave him a smile. “Thanks, Grant, for understanding.”

Across the room he heard Barnabas’ voice. “Yes, Dr. Stewart.  Julia and I shall miss the somewhat special amenities of your cottage when we leave.”

Stewart jammed his hands into his pockets, and with a sigh, turned on his heels with what dignity he had remaining. His own plans for the weekend--and with Julia--were gone.

Julia closed the door behind him as she turned to walk towards her husband still soaking in the tub, gazing out the window.

“Barnabas?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Did you know anything about Grant’s message?” slanting her head and eyeing him once more with a questioningly look.

The newlywed considered the question with a blank stare and a cool pause. A guilty warmth flushed through his body, causing beads of sweat to form on his brows and upper lips. He was going to have a hard time looking her in the eye on this one. Lying to her would not be the wisest thing to do. She always could see right through him. The safest way to go would be to quickly distract her. 

He settled back into the magical waters, raising his eyes up, then broke into a slow, roguish smile. “Didn’t you mention the other day something in regard to...’hours’?”

With a seductive smile, Julia took her time as she unfastened the sash to her robe, enticingly letting it fall to the floor. His eyes followed up from her bare feet and beyond, coveting what he had missed for too many years. She stepped cautiously on the slippery surface, submerging her feet into the bubbles, settling herself beside him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” as she looked at his handsome face with a peering eye.

He reached over to trace his finger down the angle of her cheek as the drops of water fell from his hand, slowly --sensuously-- trickling down her breasts. All talk stopped as the sensations from the stroke of his fingers made all worry leave. The answer really wasn’t needed now. 

The scent of rosemary filled the air as lovely as the soft kisses her lips placed across his chest, giving him no reason to subdue his delight. He closed his eyes, then heard the water stir around him, suddenly feeling her weight on his lap. Julia leaned forward, pressing her body against his. Her tongue flicked slowly around the lobe of his ear, catching, then nibbling it between her teeth.  His breath grew heavier as her own breath aroused him. Slowly, her hips began to move, rotating, giving him a sample of what was to come. Barnabas Collins world would be forever changed. 

Forget the battle of the sexes...as the two opponents quickly discovered the joys of their differences.

THE END