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A THRILL OF HOPE by Doreen Grégoire
This story is a sequel of sorts to "Ring of
Sorrows" - the prologue takes place a little over a month after
that story ends. I'm taking
a few liberties with the DS storyline, because I just couldn't get this
to work otherwise. I'm
assuming 1795 has happened, but it was awhile ago, even though it's not
mentioned here.
Barnabas and Julia, while still untrusting of each other, are
not as adversarial as they were in the original story.
(Sorry - I just can't remember that far back! We all know Dark Shadows and its characters are the property of Dan Curtis Productions Inc. and anyone else who has a legal claim to them. I'm not in this for the money. I'm just playing with Mr. Curtis' toys. I promise I'll put them back when I'm done.
Prologue Christmas Eve, 1973
Barnabas awakened gradually, becoming aware of the silence enveloping the old house like a thick blanket. The creaking and settling sounds, so common in old dwellings, were stilled. The fire in the fireplace had died down to ruby embers which hissed softly to themselves, no longer able to keep winter's chill from invading the snug bedroom. He lay still, simply savoring the quiet, then reached for Julia, who should have been sleeping beside him. She was gone, her side of the bed cold and deserted. He sat up, reached for his robe and felt gingerly on the floor with his feet for his slippers. While he was tying the belt of his robe, he looked through the lace curtains at the wonderland of white and black spread out before him. It had turned cold recently, and that, combined with the moisture from the ocean, had coated the trees with a thick layer of hoarfrost. The full moon in the clear black sky glittered and danced off the icy branches like diamond lace and left a trail of white fire on the ocean which was just visible from the window. He turned from the window at last and headed first to the nursery which was next door to the bedroom and connected by a door which was always left open. Justin's crib also was vacant. Heading out into the hallway, he noticed a light coming from downstairs. Julia was walking Justin up and down the length of the drawing room. When she saw Barnabas, she sighed in relief. "Barnabas, I'm so glad you're here." She started to sit down, but stood again when Justin noticed the absence of motion and started to fuss. "He just won't settle down. I've tried nursing him, but he's not hungry. He doesn't need to be changed." She chuckled. "He's gotten his sleep patterns turned around. He doesn't seem to get tired until the early hours of the morning." Barnabas took his son from his tired wife. "Are you surprised? He's just a true Collins!" he laughed. "Have you ever known any one of us to retire early?" Julia shook her head ruefully. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now, wouldn't you?" She yawned. "There have been so many things to do for the holidays, the only time I have is the daytime when Justin's asleep." Barnabas continued to walk Justin around the room. As they passed the Christmas tree, a massive blue spruce with glittering red and gold decorations, Justin's head turned as he watched the blinking lights reflecting in the shiny decorations. Barnabas paused in his pacing and turned the baby around so he was facing the tree. "See, Justin?" he asked his son. "This is a Christmas tree. You don't know what Christmas is yet, but it's the most wonderful, beautiful time of the year." Julia left her chair to stand beside her husband. Barnabas cradled Justin in one arm and drew her close to him with the other one, kissing her on the forehead as he did so. "And you, my wonderful, beautiful wife, are largely responsible for the joy I feel every year. Whenever I hear a Christmas carol, I think of you and our first Christmas together." He swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "When you taught me about hope."
Part 1 Early morning, December 24, 1967
Julia felt like she had been hunched over the microscope so long her backbone would fuse into a permanently bent position. She leaned back, stretching long-cramped muscles and suppressed a groan as her spine clicked back into place. She massaged her neck and closed her eyes to ease their burning. "Quitting so soon, doctor?" She jumped. She hadn't heard Barnabas come down the stairs. Not surprising, really. The man was a vampire. He didn't need to announce his presence with noisy, clumsy footsteps. He'd probably materialized himself directly to the basement on purpose, just to startle her, she thought sourly. She gulped to still her racing heart. "I've been here all night, Barnabas," she said with a trace of asperity. "I'm going to have to quit soon anyway. I'm taking the train to Philadelphia to spend the holidays with my cousin." His eyes narrowed in irritation. "You would delay my treatments for a relative?" He moved closer, invading her personal space. "Your presence is required here." Julia refused to be intimidated. "I've told you before that the treatments aren't ready yet. A delay of a few days isn't going to matter." She closed her notebook and started to straighten up the work table. Barnabas slammed a hand on the book before she could pick it up to put it away. "It matters to ME! How long must I wait before my dreams of a life with Vickie can be realized?" She sighed. "Barnabas, I have a life too. It's Christmas. I've already told my cousin that I'm coming and she'll be meeting me tonight." "Your personal life is of no concern to me. Your place is HERE, working on my cure." "Barnabas, be reasonable. At least I told you where I was going. I could have just left you a note." She stood up. "Now, please, get out of my way and let me finish putting this away. I still have to pack yet. It's almost dawn." He backed away will ill grace. When she turned away from the cabinet he was no longer there, having removed himself as silently as he'd arrived. * * * * * By the time she finally left the old house the sun had been up for a couple of hours, struggling vainly to shine through heavy grey clouds and casting an insipid, pale light on the crusted snow. Julia's footsteps crunched loudly in the stillness as she hurried backed to Collinwood. She wished she'd brought her car, but she'd had no idea when she left the night before that she'd be returning so late. The front door was unlocked and she let herself in as quietly as possible, hoping not to disturb the family. However, that was not to be -- Mrs. Johnson was in the foyer, speaking into the phone. "-- Oh, just a minute," she said as she turned and noticed Julia entering. "She just came in." She handed the phone to Julia. "It's that Willie Loomis, and he sounds like he's in a real state." She walked back to her domain in the kitchen, shaking her head as she did so, and muttering something about "unstable personalities". "Willie?" Julia asked. "Is there a problem? Where are you?" "Yeah, there's a problem all right." Willie's voice, normally nervous and edgy, was now positively agitated. "I'm stuck in Presque Isle and there ain't no way I'm gonna be able to make it back today." "Presque Isle?" Julia asked. "What in the world are you doing up there?" "I don't know," Willie replied. He was clearly frustrated. "Barnabas sent me up here on some crazy errand. I told him Bangor'd be better because it's bigger and closer, but he told me to go to Presque Isle - so I went. Problem is, there's this huge blizzard that blew in from Canada, and now all the roads are closed. The highway patrol's at every highway onramp, and they're turnin' people back." He paused and Julia could imagine the young man running his hands through his sandy brown hair. "Julia, what am I gonna do? Barnabas, if he don't find me back there tonight, he's gonna be real mad. And you know how he gets when he's mad." Julia knew all too well what Barnabas could be like when enraged, even over something that was clearly no one's fault. "It's all right, Willie," she assured him "I'll go over there and leave him a note." "But don't you have a train to catch? You'll miss it if you go over there now." Julia glanced at her watch and was alarmed at how late it had gotten. She debated with herself, then sighed. "I had no idea it was so late. Even if I hurry and leave now, I've already missed it. I'll call my cousin and tell her to expect me tomorrow. Don't worry about it. Just get yourself a hotel room and get back here when you can." "Thanks a million, Julia!" Willie's relief was audible. "You be careful goin' back over to the old house. The weather can be pretty unpredictable, and that storm's moving awfully fast." "I'll be careful, Willie." She started to hang up the phone, then paused. "Oh, and Willie --?" "Yeah?" "Merry Christmas." "Yeah, sure. You too, Julia." After placing a quick call to her cousin in Philadelphia to tell her of the change in plans, Julia headed upstairs to change before returning to the old house to leave Willie's note. She also knew how temperamental Maine weather was, and had no desire to get caught in a snowstorm. She pulled her gloves back on and wrapped a scarf securely about her head. Outside, she glanced longingly at her car, huddled in the small parking lot with the other cars. It would have been nice to drive back, but first she'd have to scrape the windows and wait a good length of time for it to warm up. Then she'd have to contend with the small road that ran between Collinwood and the old house. It hadn't been plowed for a couple of days, and was sure to be treacherous, if she didn't get stuck in a drift first. In the end she decided to walk back using the path through the woods, which she hoped would be shorter than the road. It was noticeably colder than when she had come this way earlier, and the wind had picked up considerably, rattling bare branches and casting stinging ice crystals in her face. She was only half-way there when it started to snow, at first a few fat flakes, but they became more and more numerous until, by the time she arrived on the steps of the old house, the wind was blowing it around so hard she had a difficult time seeing where she was going. She opened the door and practically fell into the foyer. Stamping her feet and shaking the snow from her scarf and coat, she removed her gloves and went to the secretary in the corner of the drawing room in a search for pen and paper to leave Barnabas his note. Having accomplished this, she decided to leave immediately to try to beat the storm before it got any worse. She turned the knob of the front door and was almost hit in the face when the wind tore the door from her grasp as it forced its way into the house. It slammed the door against the wall behind it, then whirled into the drawing room, extinguishing the one candle Julia had forgotten and tugging at the drapes. She hurriedly shut the door again. Returning to Collinwood was out of the question. She'd been in Maine long enough to know that a storm such as this one could last for days. If she tried to get back to Collinwood she would be in danger of losing her way in the whiteout conditions. She sighed as she removed her outer clothing. It seemed she was doomed to spend her holiday at the old house, whether she wanted to or not. She wandered around the main floor of the house, at a loose end. The experiment really was at a standstill until she could get a couple of crucial ingredients from Bangor. The supply house was closed until December 27. She wandered back along the hallway from the kitchen after ascertaining that Willie had laid in enough supplies to tide her over until the storm subsided. She passed the dining room with its ornate stained glass doors. She thought of going in, but the sight of the storm, seen through the wall of windows, would only depress her further. She found herself back in the drawing room. It was the room she was most familiar with. It had a cozy warmth to it, even though she still hadn't gotten around to building a fire in the fireplace. The chairs were comfortable and had that worn, well-loved look. After she had a goodly blaze going, she sat for a moment in one of the chairs, simply surveying the room. One would never know that tonight was Christmas eve. The room appeared as it always did, stately, constant. She came to a sudden decision and went back to the kitchen, her footsteps clicking purposefully on the flagstones of the kitchen floor. After retrieving a large knife from a drawer, she opened the back door and was relieved to see that the back of the house was in the lee of the wind. The snow was not so deep here. The back door was framed by a pair of large cedar shrubs. A few steps away were a pair of Siberian dogwood bushes, their brilliant red branches in sharp contrast to the white snow. She used the knife to cut a thick armful of the fragrant cedar boughs and some dogwood branches, then hurried back into the house before she got too cold. She laid the branches out on the kitchen table, then searched through the kitchen drawers until she found some white candles, not the blue ones Barnabas seemed to prefer, and some string. She had found Willie's portable radio, and had tuned it to a station playing a steady stream of Christmas music. She spent the rest of the afternoon fashioning an arrangement for the mantle of the fireplace in the drawing room. She had enough left over to festoon the lintel of the doorway. * * * * *
Part 2
Barnabas awoke from his death-sleep as he normally did -- suddenly, coming to full awareness at once. There was no hazy period between dreaming and wakefulness, because he did not dream. He was instantly aware of the howling wind outside, even in the depths of the cellar; his acute hearing picked up the minute groanings the old house made as it withstood yet another storm in its long history, the whistling of the wind as it gleefully discovered cracks between the windows and their frames, and the skittering of the snow and ice crystals as they were hurled against the window panes. He also clearly heard Willie's radio, its voice lifted in a silly song about a reindeer with a red nose. He rose from his coffin in one fluid motion, then closed the lid and made his way through Dr. Hoffman's laboratory, now darkened. The only hint of her was the faint scent of her perfume that hung in the air, and her lab coat hanging on a hook in a corner. He scowled at the tangle of tubes and vials arrayed on one side of the room, the mysterious fluids stilled from their normal bubbling, the Bunsen burner cold and black. The sound of the radio got louder as he ascended the stairs. The song about the reindeer ended and he heard the announcer's tinny voice. "That was Gene Autry singing 'Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. The next song you will hear will be a selection from the 'Messiah' by George Frederic Handel, sung by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir." He opened the steel doorway as the choir began singing. For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, He slammed the door behind him and strode into the drawing room, then stopped in shocked anger. The room was alive with lighted candles and festooned everywhere with cedar boughs, creatively tied together with twine bows. He glared at the radio, then at Julia, serenely sipping a cup of tea in his favourite chair. She smiled at him as he entered, not noticing the thunderous expression on his face. "Merry Christmas, Barnabas," she greeted him brightly. "Turn it off. Now." His voice was quiet, with a deadly anger laced through it. "But Barnabas, why?" Julia was puzzled at his anger. "I said turn it off." He raised his hand threateningly, as if to sweep the offending radio onto the floor. Julia flicked the switch, rendering the radio silent, then sat back waiting for an explanation. Barnabas clenched his fists at his sides to control his rage. He stared at the cedar boughs sitting on the mantel where his mother's ormolu clock usually sat. Looking around the room he saw that the clock had been relegated to a table by the window. "How *dare* you?" he asked her, his voice carrying a knife-edged rage. He came closer and stood over her. "Barnabas," she asked, trying to back up but restrained by the chair, "what have I done?" "How dare you come into my house, cut my trees, move my things, and play this!" He indicated with a sweep of his arm the radio on the table. "But it's Christmas. I thought you might enjoy --" "You thought!" he echoed mockingly. "Did you really? Did you REALLY think of how Christmas would be for a vampire?" He leaned closer. "Did you?" Julia felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. No, she hadn't thought. She had only thought of recreating Christmas here, to make up for missing it with her cousin. She shook her head mutely. "No," she whispered. "Well, let me tell you. You already know that the sight of a cross is anathema to me. I can't bear the sight of it. And do you know why? Shall I tell you?" "Please." She wasn't sure if the word was an indication for Barnabas to continue, or a plea for herself in the face of his wrath. He slammed his fist against the table, making the radio jump. "Because it is a symbol of a salvation that is forever lost to me!" He stalked away from her and stood in front of the bay window staring mutely out at the storm. By the set of his shoulders and the clenching and unclenching of his hands, Julia could see that he was still very upset. Very quietly, she asked, "How do you *know* that it's lost?" Still facing the window, he replied, "Because I no longer have a soul." He was silent for several seconds, during which Julia remained where she was, her heart going out to him, but still not sure what to say. Eventually, Barnabas turned from the window to face her again. His face was etched with bleak despair. "My soul is lost and I am damned." Julia stood and went to his side. "But you're not evil. How can you be -" He cut her off. "I am a creature of evil, created by an evil creature by evil means. I am damned as surely as if the One Handel wrote about had told me Himself." "But you don't know that." "But I *do*," he replied. "If I was not damned, would I not be able to touch a cross, go into a church, even listen to the music you were playing?" He shook his head. "No, Doctor. You may be able to cure my body, but you will be able to do nothing for my soul." "But you hate what you are! You feel guilt every time you're forced to go out -" Again he cut her off. "And I enjoy, even relish it while I'm doing it." He turned to the candle and cedar arrangement on the mantel and toyed idly with one of the branches. "But that's the vampire," she insisted. "What about the man? Surely you regret what you are?" He whirled suddenly, causing her to back up a step. "Of course I regret it!" he hissed. "How could you even doubt it? I regret it every time I am forced to lie in a stupor in my coffin at dawn. I regret it every time I pass a mirror and don't see my own reflection. I regret it every time I force myself to swallow the vile concoctions you give me to help me slake my thirst. I regret it every time I walk through Eagle Hill cemetery and see the final resting places of people who were my contemporaries - 170 years ago." His voice lowered to a near whisper and he dropped his gaze to the faded roses in the carpet. "Yes, I regret what I am." She hesitantly laid a hand on his arm. "Don't you think God knows that?" Barnabas winced at the name. "What good does it do me even if He does know?" "Because He knows you didn't become a vampire by choice. He knows how you feel. He wants to forgive you. He hates what you do, but He doesn't hate you. He loves you." Barnabas was silent, his silence an indicator of his unbelief. Julia tried again. "What about once you're cured?" she asked. "I will still be damned because of what I am now," he answered. "No!" she insisted. "You don't have to be. Don't you understand? God. Loves. You. Yes, even you. He sent His Son to be a sacrifice for all our sins, so we'd never have to pay that terrible penalty." She turned from him and went to the radio. She saw the objection he was about to form, but held up her hand. "Just listen for a minute, all right?" She still expected him to object, and was surprised when he nodded mutely. She switched the radio on, just as the second verse of another Christmas carol was playing. Good Christian men, rejoice, "Did you hear that?" she asked softly when it was done. "'Now ye need not fear the grave'. And here - listen to this one," she said when she heard the next song announced. God rest you merry, gentlemen, "Satan has no power over us, once God has forgiven us of our sins," she told him. Julia was surprised at Barnabas' response. She was sure he would tire of this and flee the room, or order her to turn off the radio. But he listened to song after song telling of the wonder of Christ's birth. Several hours into the night, after yet another song ended, the announcer came back on and started reading from the first two chapters of the Book of Luke. Hearing the actual words of God was too much for Barnabas. With a shaking hand he indicated that she should turn off the radio. She did so without protest, then sat back to see what he had to say. He was still and silent for a very long time after she turned off the radio. His elbows were on the armrests of his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his face as he thought of what he had heard. Finally he lifted his head to regard Julia. "I thank you, Doctor," he said, inclining his head. "I believe I have yet one more thing to look forward to when you finally achieve a cure for my curse." "It was nothing, Barnabas," she told him with a smile. "How could I stand to see you in such despair, when He brought hope for all of us?" "Hope." He said the word slowly, as if trying it on for size. "Yes, hope. That is what was missing from my life before tonight. One of the songs we listened to spoke of hope, didn't it?" She nodded, then softly, in her smoky, sultry voice, began to recite the words. O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
Epilogue
"I started to live that night," Barnabas told Julia. The family was snuggled together on the sofa, which had been drawn close to the fireplace. Julia cradled Justin in her arms. He was finally ready to settle down, and nursed sleepily at her breast. In turn, Julia nestled in Barnabas' arms, her head resting against his shoulder. He rubbed his cheek against her soft, fragrant hair and kissed her jawbone. She half-turned in his arms so she could see his face. "What do you mean?" she asked, even though she knew the answer already. "I was dead in more ways than one. My body was dead, my soul was lost. All I could see was my future - which looked bleak indeed. You showed me the way back to life." He paused, listening to the small sounds Justin made as he suckled. "Oh, Eric Lang may have brought my body back to life, but long before he did so, on that Christmas Eve, my love, you showed how to find my soul and hope." His arms tightened around her and he kissed her again, a kiss full of wonder and promise. "I love you, Julia. Merry Christmas." "I love you too, Barnabas," she whispered, her heart too full of joy to be able to speak any louder. "Merry Christmas." THE END December, 1999 |
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