by Katie Allen

Barnabas stood apart watching the gaiety. He alone seemed to still feel the cold silence of the snow, looking in on the festivity unable, unwilling, to join himself. He listened to the memories being shared around him. "Do you remember when we were boys and we played hide and seek in the attics…" "Do I! I remember the time Roger forgot all about us and went to supper…" "Do you remember the year their cousin from New York came for Christmas? What was her name? She was standing under the mistletoe, Liz's idea, and you were the one to finally kiss her." "Penny." the name sounded like a sigh.

Barnabas turned from the conversation. He looked over at his portrait hanging on the wall. That Barnabas Collins was not invited and no one cared about his youthful kisses under the mistletoe, or whether he had fun as a child. He wondered what they would think if he told them the stories of his childhood. Would they think he was mad? Maybe would pat him on the back and tell him what a good storyteller he was, and that they could imagine the original Barnabas Collins standing there, and what wonderful entertainment Liz had provided. No, he had outlived his times, outlived his friends, and most painful of all, he seemed to have outlived his memories. This house and this time were not his, and the memories he had, he could not share. Barnabas was tired of listening politely, tired of remembering the past he knew alone. Feeling unsettled, he looked around for something to amuse him, since it was too early to go home.

Barnabas climbed the stairs, the children pausing in their games to stand back and allow him to pass more in fear of the hard face and distant eye, than in respect for the somber man. Without thinking he walked the halls moving farther from the music until he found himself in front of a certain door that had once shown visions of parallel time, visions of the reality of what might have been had the choices been made differently. Barnabas paused a moment, not certain what he hoped to see, then with a will opened the door. He expected the room to be dark and empty except for dust and the damp odor so common to closed-up unheated rooms, but even before the door was fully opened, he saw that the room was not empty and unused, but warm and bright. There were people in the room, Julia, Willie and a child, but unlike the rest of the house behind him, there was no festive air in this room.

Julia was dressed for the outdoors, wearing a tailored camel-colored coat and a matching tam whose jaunty angle was sadly at odds with the sober expression of her pale face. She stood as still as a statue close to the windows staring unseeingly at the snow falling outside in the dark. Barnabas could not see the expression on her face, but the way she stood, the way she held her shoulders, made him want to enter the room and find out what was wrong, but he did not for this was not his Julia.

Willie was sitting on a divan across the room, talking softly to the child. Barnabas studied the small girl, he had never seen before. She must have been 3 or 4 years old, a pretty child with big brown eyes that were filled with tears that spilled out and down her chubby red cheeks, and long curling brown hair ornamented with a silken blue bow that matched her dress. She was watching Willie's every move, placing her thumb in her mouth and then removing it again, as she remembered she didn't do that anymore.

Willie whistled silently, as he reattached the doll arm that had come off in a fit of childish temper. "Now Emily. You must be more careful of Lizbet. When she's a bad girl you make her sit in a corner, not shake her."

Emily wiped at her tears with the back of her hand and turned her sober look from his hands to Willie's face. "Lizbet is scared you can't fix her." she whispered.

Willie looked down into the doll's face and smiled. "Now Lizbet," he told the doll, gently. "Don't you be afraid, for Uncle Willie is going to fix you and make you all better."

He raised the doll and let it whisper in his ear. "No, I promise it won't hurt, Lizbet." he told the doll then went back to his struggle to force the arm into place under the concerned look of it's Mama, muttering under his breath. As the arm finally slipped into place, Willie gave a sigh of relief, and held out the doll to Emily. "Here you are princess. Lizbet's all better."

Once the doll was repaired, Emily took it gently from Willie's hands and began to croon tuneless little lullabies to her precious baby. After kissing the child's forehead, Willie got up and went over to Julia.

"You're really leaving then?" Willie asked.

"I must." Julia answered her face expressionless.

"But Roger can give you so much. He can take care of you and Emily." Willie studied Julia.

"Roger has nothing I need. I have a home and a career. I have always taken care of myself and I can take care of Emily, too." Julia still looked out the window. "I still have Wyndcliffe." She paused and took a deep breath, "I will always have Wyndcliffe."

"And can Wyndcliffe give you love?" Willie pressed her. "Roger would love you, if you gave him a chance."

"And all he asks in return is my love. Willie, I have none left to give." Julia talked without emotion.

Willie came to stand near the window where she could see his reflection in the windowpanes. "It's just too soon, give it a chance. You almost married him once. He still loves you." Willie paused and then added quietly, "He'll wait for you. Sometimes I think he always has."

"Willie, he knows it's useless for him to wait. The past is over." Julia stated plainly, ignoring his reflection, as she continued to stare into the night.

Willie put a hand on Julia's arm. "Did you love 'him' so much that there is no room for anyone else, ever?" When Julia did not answer him, he added, " Julia, Barnabas is gone."

Julia finally turned away from the window and looked at Willie with tears in her eyes. "He will never be gone. I will always have him, in my heart, in Emily. He's in her smile, and in the way she looks at me sometimes, that look of him in her eyes. If Emily was all that we had together, that would be enough to last me my whole life."

The child hearing her name looked at Julia, and smiled. "Mama?"

Julia went over to the girl and knelt down and pulled her into her arms. "Yes, Poppet." She hugged the girl, and fussed over the doll, then returned to Willie. "I'm going. Once I'm not here all the time, Roger will forget me. It's his sense of duty that has pushed this so far."

"And pushed you away from your home." Willie frowned. "It's almost Christmas."

Julia lifted a black gloved hand and laid it against Willie's face. "Roger couldn't make me leave unless I wanted to. You of all people know I can't stay at the Old House without 'him'. Maybe one day I will return, but I keep seeing him…" Julia looked at the door, and stared. Barnabas knew that she could not see him, but somehow she must have, because she came all the way to the doorway where he stood, frowning at him when she should only be seeing the dark hall. She stopped looking and closed her eyes, tears running down her face. "Wherever I look here, I see shadows of him." she said more to herself than to Willie, and wiped her tears away with a handkerchief that she had tucked up her sleeve. When she had once more gotten control of herself, she replaced the handkerchief, and brought her shoulders back straight and confident. She turned back to Willie her face calm, and except for her expressive eyes dark with pain showing none of her feelings. "It's the right thing to do. Don't look so sad, it's not forever. Collinwood, after all, is Emily's home." Picking up her purse and smoothing her coat, she added, "Besides, we'll be back for Christmas in a few days. I've talked to Roger, you will continue to take care of the Old House."

Julia went over to the little girl and got down before her. "It's time to go, Poppet."

She helped Emily into her little blue coat with the white collar and hat, and slipped on the mittens that hung on a string through her sleeves. "Now pick up your baby and tell Willie good-bye."

Emily holding her baby to her, hugged Willie. "Bye Willie, see you tomorrow." she said as she always did when he went home at night.

Willie was fighting tears. She didn't understand, no matter how many times he had explained it to her. With a hug and a quiet voice he answered her, "Good-bye, Emily. See ya real soon."

Willie picked Emily up to carry her down the stairs to the car, when her doll fell, and they had to start all over again. Julia, about to walk out of the room, again came over to where Barnabas stood, and looked at him again, staring hard as though she couldn't quite see him. "Goodbye, Barnabas. I'll always love you." she whispered.

And the room changed.

Barnabas stood by the empty room for a long time, knowing that he would see no more, but needing to think about what he had seen. This evening he had not enjoyed himself, feeling out of place, but for good or ill, this time was now his own, and the past would always be with him in his memories, but that was all it could now be. He turned away closing the door behind him, and went back to the party. He stood at the top of the stairs for a moment looking down at the people. Someday this party would be part of his memories; this would be one more Christmas past. It was up to him to make the memories he would look back upon, and to make them pleasant. He looked at the joy of life on the faces of all those he loved, at Julia's face as she spied him on the stairs, and pausing mid-story smiled at him. All those he loved. Barnabas went to Julia's side and as she finished her story slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her over to the mistletoe, and whispered in her ear, "Merry Christmas, Julia."

A few days later, it was Christmas. Willie had gone to spend the day with friends, and Julia had come to the Old House to spend the day with Barnabas. The weather was still cold and it came in the Old House with Julia, in the snow sticking to the bottom of her boots, and the chill clinging to her slacks and jacket, but it could not last in the warmth of the fire and Barnabas' arms. They sat on the floor before the fire, Barnabas' resting back on the couch, Julia resting against him, his arms around her, holding her close, Julia's head resting on Barnabas' shoulder. He could smell her shampoo and the perfume she wore, and could feel the warmth of her body next to his. He didn't explain what he had seen, or what had changed him, only telling Julia that he was a fool not to have realized he loved her, and that kiss under the mistletoe had been only the first of many.

They talked about their childhoods, children hadn't changed much in 175 years and there was more in common than Barnabas had thought possible. He told Julia of the first girl he kissed under the mistletoe, and she told him of the first time she waited under another sprig so many years later. How nervous, how happy, a memory to treasure. Catching Julia mid-sentence telling him about a time she had gone sledding, Barnabas hugged her and said, "Julia, did I tell you I'm going to marry you?"

"You're asking me to marry you?" she didn't dare look at him in case she had misunderstood.

"No. It's just a fact."

She turned to him, still not believing her ears, and he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, his arms pulling her close. "Yes, Julia Hoffman. I'm not spending another Christmas with only my memories. From now on we'll make them."

And pulling Julia close and with a wicked glint in his eye, Barnabas began to make some very happy memories.

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