Chapter 1
Julia stared around her apartment, still not quite believing that she was actually there. All around her were signs of unpacking, yet to be finished. She sighed deeply, and then fell rather than sat, onto the sofa.
Kicking off her shoes, she wiggled her toes, relishing the feeling of release. She took in the bulging boxes, and half-hearted attempts at unpacking, and with another sigh, deeper than the last one, leaned her head back, wearily against the sofa. She'd done it...she actually left Collinwood...Collinsport...and Barnabas...behind her.
The thought of Barnabas, brought a lurch to her heart, and feeling her bottom lip tremble, rose quickly to her feet, and began finishing tidying up. Right now, Barnabas was the last person she wanted on her mind. For awhile, her ministrations worked, until her glance fell on the telephone, and she caught herself reaching out, already half way through dialling the number for Collinwood, and quickly put the handset down. Realising that Barnabas had still been in her thoughts all along.
Giving up on unpacking, she grabbed a pile of papers and folders, and clearing a work space, headed into the kitchen, making herself a light snack, and a herbal tea, before heading back to her paperwork. She hadn't realised just how much work returning to Wyndcliffe, had caused. She quickly realised that she would need a hand in running the place, as well as helping out with paperwork, if she planned to stay. Which of course she was; let Barnabas Collins fend for himself...again the thought of him, brought a lump to her throat, and a much deeper pain to her heart. This time she wasn't quite able to stop the tears that fell slowly down her cheeks. Finally she gave up the struggle, and give way to her tears, and heartbreak.
When they had returned from 1840, they had soon discovered that everything had returned to normal - or what passed as normal - at Collinwood. Julia had been bolstered that Barnabas' good health had continued into their own time. And hoped for a more - relaxing - period at the Great House, if that were even possible.
However, she was soon to realise that it wasn't going to be that easy. But then, when was anything involving Barnabas, "easy"?
It hadn't take Julia long, to realise that Barnabas was still stuck firmly in 1840, along with the memory of his "beloved" Angelique. She had hoped that once they returned to their own time, that he would move forward, and finally put his past behind him. She should have known when he had intended to stay in 1840 and not return with her, or Stokes, of what the future held.
He mourned her, growing more and more depressed at each passing day. Willie grew alarmed, at Barnabas' obvious grief, calling on Julia several times, to try and do something. She had tried, Willie had tried, and even Eliot had tried; nothing worked.
She had endured him mourn Angelique's memory for eight weeks, until, as an act of desperation and alarm had snapped at him, that Angelique had now been dead for a hundred and thirty one years, and she was better off that way.
He had risen to his feet, a look of disbelief, and outrage on his face.
"She was my wife!" he'd retorted, as though all the heartache and death she 'd been responsible for, had never happened. An argument had ensued, both too stubborn to back down, or admit who was right and who was wrong.
It had ended, with her walking out of the Old House, and heading back to Collinwood. She had packed her things, before she knew she had already made her decision. If he was unwilling to help himself, then she wasn't going help him, either.
She had quietly informed Elizabeth, of her plans. Elizabeth had been understandably shocked, and saddened at the prospect of her leaving, and had asked her to reconsider. But didn't push the matter, when Julia had declined, and she'd been grateful. She'd looked puzzled, at her request not to let Barnabas know that she had left, nor of where she was going. They exchanged farewells, along with tears, and hugs, and best wishes for the future. Elizabeth's parting words were to inform her friend, that she would be welcome anytime she wished to return.
She'd paused, by the Old House, wondering if she were doing the right thing.
Remembering their argument, and their final words, she fought back the tears that prickled her eyes, and lifting her head determinedly, put the car into drive, and left the rambling Collins Estate behind her.
