Further is explored the day after the wedding, walking the grounds and recognizing past troubles, as well as accepting who they are in the spooky realm they call "Home".

Sharing The Past, The Present & The Future

Did not I venture to disclose what I and my beloved might encounter during our second evening together, after I'd discussed and displayed our undertakings for the first? Ah, I shall find the words for that in due course when I focus on what led us there.

I know when she awoke that first morning after we were wed she was suddenly concerned about sleeping in so late, but that would be the way of it now. Rare would be the mornings we'd have. There was daylight for us, but dawns we'd know little of beyond occasionally blinking at their wonder and fading off to sleep. This was splendid considering how the dawn of our lives together unfolded in such a change.

I had known the frightening, though delicious enjoyment of removing Josette's wedding gown, even suffering to destroy the undergarment of it as she had allowed. This was a bold mixture of torrid agony and blissful excitement. In all her passion the sweetness never left her, but her other components, as lovely as the original, were there.

Ah, of something new, it was helping her to dress. She showed me all of the new methods to lace her up or latch her clothing. And Maggie did something unique as I watched her in front of her vanity table, now as the mess had been cleaned, that is. She beckoned me to stand closer and then put the hair brush into my hand. I looked at it and then at her uncertainly and she almost laughed, "Go ahead, I've worked through whatever tangles at the end we managed together last night."

I began slowly at the top and then felt the thrush down, not wanting to mar a single filament on her head. I saw through the mirror, (which yes, did reflect us,) that her eyes closed and she was experiencing a certain pleasure from this simple custom. I stood and gathered her tresses underneath, feeling the prickles against my hand as I went down with the strokes from the brush. It strangely enticed me. Could all of this be so? I'd always wondered what would happen but my imagination failed me to understand the possibilities as so many obstacles kept steering us away from this bliss.

As I continued her scent floated to me and I found myself drawing the brown locks away, putting the brush down and pressing my lips to her neck. She took my arms and guided me in the embrace of her.

"Now don't destroy this dress, Barnabas Collins," she warned, "I've been looking forward to wearing it today. A blend of old and new."

"I've noticed that," I said, smiling at her warning, "everyone seems so under-dressed to me but once in a while there are designs that are akin to what we knew."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saying we." She answered.

At last, I wasn't trying to fool myself anymore. With all I had been pressed to understand, she knew this world in all its varying arrays. She knew my questions, but better still she had the answers to them.

The dress itself was arranged from a new pattern, form fitting from the waist up, flowing long in the skirt and a light pattern of tiny flowers, running in separated strips and bordered with vertical lines on white material. The tightness reminded me of her as Kitty, the colour and design reminded me of her as Josette, but of course the modern creation of it was Maggie Evans as all three of them. The sleeves ran down to her elbows with some ruffling spreading outward and the neck was high. A plain collar but a front piece below that had a bib-like quality, striped with trimming of white lace and ineffectual buttons.

The look was delightful but the essence of modern clothing had often perplexed me because of its need to appear functional and helpful, but then turning out to be useless, such as faux pockets which had flaps but no pouch attached. Really, why go through all the bother of sewing it without those additions? Does even our clothing have to be dishonest?

As we stepped out of the door our arms glided together and we noticed patches of clouds creating rays of sunlight blending with the scenery of our home and surroundings.

"What I like best of all is not living at the Main House of Collinwood," she confessed.

"Why is that, my love?"

"I prefer being able to see it. I wasn't all that fond of my rooms there anyway. Too many bad memories. Fighting against myself as Kitty. Aunt Natalie pacing around my bed. Ghosts ruining my sleep. It isn't a wonder I did the same when I was separated from myself. Those memories aren't very nice, but there are a few that have magic."

"Such as?" I questioned, we strolling together.

"Any when I was in your arms, of course. Sarah playing outside or even coming to find me again when things were so horrible between us. One moment that had a strange magic to it... when I was regressed to the kidnapping... I felt terrified, but as I came to remember that, I was also reaching farther back, I was asking, 'Who is Josette?' Then I quivered in this vacuum that was surging towards me, like a silken rope my heart was tugging on, and the memories came back. I had my answer: She's me."

At this point we halted our walk.

"It sounds very painful," I took her by the elbows and she spread her hands along my chest, thoughtful, then looked up and said, "It wasn't. Not until I had to relive my fall. It took so long after that to come back to try again. And then again. Each time that part of me got lost, stretching out and looking for you, my Barnabas."

Here my lips reached the side of her face and found it, soft, smooth and wholesome to the touch.

We continued through this day into the woods between here and Eagle Hill Cemetery. We marvelled at each spot that had come to mean devastation to our lives. Maggie would pull me toward a tree or a rock or any spot that had caused us pain in the past, embrace me and focus her ardor towards me, dedicating each spot in a glory of cleansing it with love. She had a way of sliding her cheek along mine with arms holding me close that brought a spark to my insides and the wavering of what others call butterflies but I call divinity. Such as she was in my arms, the loss of her always bringing anguish to my spirit, to have her now was the grandeur of eternity. The merest thought of not cherishing it was a detestable concept to me.

But when we reached the mausoleum I feared to go in. Josette was not and it made sense. She knew the other realms and that the renewal of her life freed her from the dangers. She opened the gate and as it creaked she gave up laughter, "I'd love to get some WD-40 on these hinges."

"Whatever that is, I believe Willie has mentioned it once to me."

She stepped into the crypt and became even more fervent, "Do you remember when we met here?"

"I remember that I wanted you and felt terrible for it." I admitted.

She stepped towards my mother's plaque, dusted it off with her fingers and blew.

"Dear Naomi Collins," she whispered, "Heavens bless you."

Then she turned about face and came to me with a smile, "What do you feel now?"

I stammered, "I... I don't know. Confusion... perturbation, I suppose."

"What about here? Can we show any amour to this place, my dearest?"

"Anywhere you like, Josette. Anything you want."

Her hands drew up my arms, loosened me at the collar. She wanted to feed again. Resounds of futile worries made a leap for my thoughts, "What would Mother think?" This was interrupted by what my Josette took from me as her teeth enveloped my throat.

The rush of adrenaline sparked through my spine, and flowed along my limbs, reaching from my vitals to a tenderness in my toes. This sensation proved to enhance all pleasures and I held her head as she drank. Not a lot, hardly salacious, just a taste. I wanted to feel shame for enacting this here with her but then she drew away from me licking her lips, "After all we've endured? No more shame, Barnabas. Accept what we are; different. Not always good, as you've said, it sets us apart from others, but accept it... as I have."

I slid my hands up, drawing in at her neck and cradling her jaw, "You don't want me... here... do you?"

She grinned, speaking in laughter, "Oh, no. Not with that caretaker nosing about. Besides, it's dreadfully dusty in here."

She lifted her hands, curling her fingers afore my ears and her lips along mine. I recalled her confession of being a fragmented spirit earlier. Now in the darkness of where we stood with the lying remains of our family, this connection was bittersweet, indeed. Oh... I thought to myself, yes, she is my wife. We share this now. Family. I held her precious shoulders, tasted her peach-bud lips and welcomed this description of her. She was my family.

"Yes," she said, "I think I heard that. You felt it very strongly. A new form of communication is beginning between us."

"What did you hear?" I inquired in puzzled curiousity.

She hummed happily, "Nevermind. There's somewhere else I'd like to go now."

Josette lifted the fabric of her long dress slightly, took my hand and we stepped out again, closing the gate together. Walking along the leaf strewn grounds of Eagle Hill we found the spot she was looking for, where her grave was. At her headstone she knelt and looked at it. I knelt on one knee beside her, resting my cane on the ground.

After a while I couldn't help but ask, "What are you thinking of?"

"I'm being thankful... to be here again and with you and not down there. And also grateful I came back unblemished. I looked over some studies. It happens, you know. Some are born with physical scars of their previous lives. I remember how you felt about that when you revived me."

"No, it was not a pretty sight. I deeply regret doing that to you. It was very wrong of me to be so selfish. Now that I know better I'm thankful along with you. Reincarnation looks to have better results than... re-animation." I admitted, somewhat ashamed at this memory and I kissed her hand.

Her soft repose became a smile as she turned to me, "One day, Barnabas, will you do me a favour?"

"Of course," I answered, "Tell me."

"Don't stop at my hand when you kiss me like that, oui? Go up the arm."

My dear Maggie, my dearest Josette, their humour had blended together so well, and why not? They were one indefinably glorious woman after all.

Getting up we continued to explore the grounds together, sheltering in its ancestral glory and allowing it to benefit from our love. Beholding the grandeur of all these things combined and what we could bring to it. So much affection did we share and there were times when we noticed other family members from afar. They didn't intrude on our solitude, though. No. They merely smiled and waved acknowledging their shared happiness for us. We held our hands up to them or nodded in return.

"It's good to see Carolyn and Mr. Peterson brought together so well," my darling bride expressed, "If only they could be as happy as we are."

"Do you believe anyone can be?"

"No. But I can still wish for it. That's why I like keeping the journals together, Barnabas. Perhaps one day it could help someone else."

"Why?" I asked.

"Don't you know what's happening to us?"

"You tell me. I shan't venture any imaginings to your wisdom, Maggie Evans."

She grinned at this as we reached a full oceans view.

"It's something that could inspire almost any pair whose love is thwarted by all the distraction in this modern age. We had enough of our own calamity and not only in the strife. It was a rotten time to be alive if one was poor. All the modern conveniences aren't for show and pomp, they're to enrich our lives. So few look at them that way now. But you and I? We share the delights of all that time and what could be easier to focus on now, but love?"

"I'm not sure I understand you, Maggie."

"Well, look at it all. We're all so busy fussing for the extras to fill some gap, but you know what we really need is friendship, and friendships that work. Material possessions are supposed to enhance life, not control us. Same with games or books. It's not to waste time but to think about and have... to appreciate its moments."

"I see your point on that, my dear. But... what do you mean about the journals we've started?"

"Well," she raised an eyebrow toward me, "if we relive some of the excitement through them, what do you think it will inspire?"

I breathed, "... more?"

"Yes," she said, "which will lead to what else?"

"Writing down further details... and reading those?" I asked, but rhetorically because she'd brought a tingle to my skin with these thoughts.

"And?" her smile was wide now and her face so close.

"I see what you mean. Perhaps an eternity of this isn't impossible?"

"As long as we appreciate what we have and we have each other? We can be almost certain."

A seat was placed in this spot, which we took, though who had put it there was unknown. Perhaps this Matthew Morgan I'd once heard of, perhaps any workman Elizabeth might have hired to stow a bench so others could enjoy this rich view of the salt spray of waves crashing on the rocks. Did the moon truly create this threshing of water? I often wondered, especially now. There we stayed and thoughts became echoes of the day, then vanished away like the morning fog on a summers afternoon, leaving us content for a long time. Her head rested on my shoulder and I kissed the top of it.

As we sat facing the ocean, our hands held together I felt a tighter grip for a moment.

"Any reason for that?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Thinking about... last night."

"Which part?" I smiled.

"The second," she admitted and then took the back of her curled fingers to her mouth in a blushing manner.

"You aren't shy... are you?" I asked, inquisitive.

"Surprised... I'm sure," she told me, "but I dwell on the possibilities of more..."

I took her at the waist, knowing I'd received so much already, remembering what I'd felt from her bare skin where she was well covered now. Her lips on mine were renewing the memories of what had come before and sounds of the sea-wind, the lapping waves below stirred haunting memories of when we'd yearned for each other in this very spot so long ago.

I brought the back of my hand to graze her honey-sweet blush, and her eyes closing slowly in this touch of exquisite tenderness.

"I remember that," she breathed, "you touched me like that before. I remember, Barnabas. I remember."

"I do, as well," I echoed in response, "I didn't know but I suppose that's why I did it."

"Has any fondness been as pure as what you and I share?"

I blinked slowly, "At times some may consider it rather brusque... but I don't."

I brought her face to mine and we dwelt in this vibration of joy, unclouded and lifting free as we always wished together.

Pulling away her words came out, "It's time to go back, isn't it?"

"Without a doubt." I told her.

I'm not sure where this chapter came from, but since I channel the characters They likely know. :) Like I say, I don't do it for me, I do it for Them... but still, what Maggie reflects in this walk together I hope inspires change and better things in your life. Let me know if it has. Peace.