The Face In the Window

This story is dedicated to my friend Lynn whose birthday is Halloween!  And also to my father for reasons that I will explain at the end of this tale.

THE FACE IN THE WINDOW

by NancyBe

Halloween 1971

Julia gasped out loud.  The face that peered in at her was tiny and round and as pale as a winter’s moon. It hovered in the window for a moment, and then was gone.  But a moment was more than enough for the sight to have totally frozen Julia Hoffman in place.  There was something about that haunting little face…something familiar.  And in the brief moment it had floated in the autumn air, Julia had had the impression that whoever it was had been pleading with her, asking her to do something.  Could it have been Sarah?  she wondered.  They hadn’t seen her in so long.  And although she felt that she knew that face, she was almost sure that it was not Barnabas’ beloved little sister.  Julia had seen Sarah Collins enough times to recognize her right away, but she wasn’t even sure of the gender of the being who had just appeared in the drawing room window on this wind-whipped Halloween eve.

           

Her mind briefly flickered over the possibility that it might have been a trick-or-treater but then just as quickly dismissed the thought.  A trick-or-treater at Collinwood?  Not very likely when any child in Collinsport could tell you that Collinwood was spooky every night of the year.  It was certainly no place to be trifling with on Halloween.

Julia Hoffman was surprised at herself.  She had met up with more than one ghost at Collinwood in addition to a host of other supernatural ghouls of all sorts, and she thought she was long past being frightened by them.  But tonight, that face…its appearance had thoroughly chilled her.  The child – or whatever it was – did not seem threatening, and yet, it had shaken her badly.  It wanted something from her, and it wanted it desperately.  She understood that her fright was emanating not from fear for her own safety but from her inability to understand what the being wanted of her and the possibility that she would not be able to accomplish the task.

Despite the warm fire that crackled enthusiastically in the main room of the Old House, Julia hugged herself to ward off a sudden attack of shivers.  Her eyes scanned the room and took in all of the little details that she knew Barnabas was responsible for this evening.  The drawing room had been decorated with yellow and green gourds and fat orange pumpkins and even candles that reflected the colors of autumn – deep greens, vermilion, shimmering golds.  The table had been elegantly set with the finest crystal, china and silver, and Barnabas had made sure that she had enjoyed a sumptuous gourmet meal.  He had pulled out all the stops, and Julia knew it.  He had certainly had to work hard enough to convince her to have dinner with him to celebrate not only Halloween but her birthday as well.  Julia had to chuckle to herself.  How perfect it had turned out that her birthday fell on All Hallow’s Eve and that she lived at a place like Collinwood.

Her eyes wandered warily back to the window, but the apparition (if there had been one) was gone.  She moved a little closer, but nothing jumped out at her nor was there any physical sign that anyone human had been there.  Julia sighed and mover closer to the welcoming fire once more.  She wished Barnabas would get back with their dessert and coffee.  She could use a strong cup of joe right now.  Where was Mrs. Johnson when you needed her?

Trying to distract herself and forget what she might or might not have seen at the window, Julia once more looked about the familiar room – it had once seemed so much like home to her – and reflected on how difficult it had been for Barnabas to convince her to agree to come here tonight.  It hadn’t been all that long ago that she had made a concerted effort to spend as much time as possible in this room and in this house.  She had loved being here with Barnabas, here in this house that brought him so much comfort and made him feel safe in an alien world.  And more than anyone else, she understood how vital it was to him to feel safe after spending so many of his years feeling like a hunted animal.

But she had also often come to this room when he was not here - to wait for him while he “slept” and to keep watch over him when necessary.  And to feel closer to him when had disappeared into past centuries or parallel universes.  She felt closest to him here in this room where she could hear the echoes of the deep cadence of his voice just by closing her eyes.  Where she could picture him standing in the glow of the fire or gracefully lighting the many candles that illuminated the room.  Where she could always faintly detect the scent of the bay rum cologne that he favored.  This room always shouted “Barnabas Collins” even if its master was somewhere in a different century.

~ ~ ~

A different century.  That’s what had changed everything for her.  Her descent of Quentin’s staircase had led her to 1840, a most dangerous year for the Collins family and a year in which she herself had faced mortal peril.  As she thought about that journey, she glanced about the room once more, and its few modern trappings seemed to melt away before her eyes.  She could see it as it stood in 1840, could even feel the weight of the heavy skirts that she had had to costume herself in.  And she could see that…that witch and hear what she had had to say the day she had so “graciously” lifted Barnabas’ curse.  As if she was doing him a favor, as if she hadn’t been responsible for the curse and all its miseries in the first place.  And then Barnabas had decided….

She shook her head slowly as a sadness she had been fighting for months renewed its grip on her heart.  She had almost been killed – no worse than that – in 1840, and yet in some ways, she had relished her time in the past.  Once Barnabas had reclaimed his body in 1840 and recognized her, the two of them had become closer than they had ever been before.  She knew without being told that he had been devastated by her disappearance at the hands of Roxanne and Angelique.  His actions toward her had sparked the sliver of hope she kept guarded deeply in her heart.  And on top of his words to her in 1995, “Never without you,” she had come to believe there might be a future for them. Until that last day in 1840…the day he had suddenly “realized” that he had really loved Angelique all along.  Angelique…his only love…and he never knew it.

Julia was able to recall that scene in vivid detail.  Finding Barnabas kneeling by Angelique’s dead body, his dark head bent over her golden one, her face in death more gentle than it had ever been in life.  Barnabas’ own face, full of anguish as he had risen from the body…his slumped shoulders…his tortured voice as he had confessed to Julia how he really had loved the sorceress…his crumpling in pain from the stab wound.

Whereas his words to her in 1995 had bandaged and salved her long aching heart, his words in 1840 did more than open ancient wounds – they tore her still fragile heart asunder, ravaging and breaking it so completely that she believed it would never be whole again, never be healthy enough to trust or love again for the rest of her days.  This was the way she had left 1840; it was the way she had re-entered 1971.

Once they had returned to their own time, Julia was inordinately relieved that Barnabas had not reverted to his vampire state.  She had been relieved for him and also for herself, that she would not have to work with him closely for God knows how long to find a cure.  She had watched him carefully for several weeks, fearing that his curse might somehow regain control of him, but other than his stab wound, he was in good physical condition and completely human.  Too human, as she had feared  - and remarked upon - in 1840.  Although she was with him often in those first few weeks, she had managed to remain emotionally distanced from him.  And true to form, he was so absorbed in himself – trying to reconcile his joy at his newfound mortality with his grief over the death of his “only love” – that he did not notice Julia’s reticence.  And his failure to validate her feelings only fueled her resolve to excise Barnabas Collins from her heart as completely as she would excise a malignant growth, no matter that it would leave a permanent hole in a vital organ.  Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.

And so, throughout the spring and summer of 1971, Julia Hoffman sought to reclaim her head, her heart and her identity.  She felt she had lost all of these over the past four years to a man who had turned out to be an utter fool.  Julia thought of herself as an astute judge of character, but obviously, she had seen something in Barnabas Collins that just wasn’t there.  She had endured his many infatuations with vacuous young things and had forgiven much.  She had patiently waited for him to realize that he could not recreate his beloved Josette.  After what he had endured over the centuries, she had even understood his relentless if foolish quest to find the woman who could replace his long-dead fiancée.  But to decide that the very woman – the witch – who had stolen his life, his love, his family from him – to decide that she was the one he had loved all along was beyond her ability to understand or forgive.

Julia decided that she was not ready to leave Collinwood yet; it had become her home and the Collinses her family, and she would not allow Barnabas’ foolishness to rob her of those things, too.  She had, however, returned to Wyndecliffe with a vengeance to re-establish her authority, and she had spent less and less time at the Great Estate.  It felt good to be giving orders again, to be treating patients, to be dealing with mere mortals again, and she threw herself into the day-to-day operations of the place.  She managed to channel her energies into her work and to almost forget the ragged hole that seared her heart each time it beat, the hole where her love for Barnabas used to be.  And she worked so hard that after six months, her Board of Directors demanded that she take a vacation before she completely ran herself into the ground.

She had seen very little of Barnabas over these past six or seven months.  When she had first returned to Wyndecliffe, he was busy adjusting to his new life, and she had not heard much from him.  When it became clear that she was devoting herself to her career once again and that she had no intention of pursuing their friendship, he had begun trying to contact her, first at Collinwood, and then at the hospital, but she was rarely available.  And she had expended very little effort in returning his calls and notes.

It was not until she had returned from her vacation, however, that she had noticed a marked determination in Barnabas to rekindle their once close relationship.  His calls came more frequently, and it seemed he had fairly camped out at Collinwood to ensure that he would catch her either coming or going.  He had repeatedly asked her to come to the Old House to spend time with him, and when she had put him off, he had started asking her out to dinner.  Her answer was almost always no.

But she could not stop thinking about the look on his face each time she refused his invitations.  His dark eyes would light up at the sight of her, but their brightness would gradually diminish as she would rattle off her list of excuses: she was tired; she had work to do; she had an appointment; she had to leave very early in the morning.  His eyes would grow dimmer, and he would lower his head in disappointment, striking his trademark solemn pose until his dejection began to tug at her heart.  It would come to her at odd moments – as she poured a cup of coffee or as she flipped open a patient’s chart – that she should give him another chance.  And then she would shake her head resolutely and tell herself that he had been given more than enough chances.

But the doubt began to gnaw at the fortress she had erected around her heart until the walls began to crumble slightly, a brick falling here or there, weakening her resolve.  And so when she had wearily opened the door to Collinwood one crisp October evening to find him waiting for her, her tired face couldn’t help but dissolve into a fond smile. 

He stood facing the roaring fireplace, his head bowed, clasping behind his back a bouquet that danced with flowers of autumn hues: vibrant oranges, deep reds and glowing yellows.  Deep in thought, he had not heard her come in. She regarded him for a moment, thinking that even from behind he looked more than a little defeated.  He had always touched her heart most when he was vulnerable, and she could feel the tightness in her chest that she wore like a shield begin to loosen.  She stubbornly tried to hold on to it for she knew it was her protection against being hurt by him again, but she could feel herself rapidly losing the battle.

“Hello, Barnabas,” she finally ventured.

He whirled around at the sound of her throaty voice, and in that instant, she saw that he was trying to mask the emotions that had arisen from his solitary thoughts.  Once again, his vulnerability struck her, and she crossed her arms across her chest in a protective pose.

“Julia,” he greeted her, a small hopeful smile drawing at the corners of his mouth.  “How good to see you.”  He held the flowers out to her almost as an afterthought.  “I brought you these as a, well, as part of an invitation.”

He seemed shy and a little excited, and she felt his emotions begin to break down some of her barriers.  She was forced to uncross her arms to accept his gift which left her feeling even more helpless against his charms and the effect they had always had on her.  Oh no, not again, she thought to herself.

“Why thank you, Barnabas.  They’re beautiful,” she said, burying her face in the bouquet to inhale the flowers’ heady scent.  “What invitation?”

He watched her for a moment, slightly wary of what her reaction to his words might be.   He rubbed the fingers of one hand with the fingers of the other as was his unconscious habit and plunged ahead.  “I know that your birthday is next week, and I was hoping that you would join me at the Old House for dinner.  It’s been so long since we have spent any time together, Julia.  I miss our conversations and our friendship.  I miss you, Julia.”

His voice had grown low and his face solemn.  She wanted to turn him down again, and her mind searched through all of its files for a credible excuse, but none was forthcoming.  He watched her closely as if knowing she was fighting a battle within herself and stepped closer to her, at first tentatively and then with more determination.  Julia silently sucked in her breath not knowing what he was going to do next.

“Please, Julia.  You have done so much for me these past years.  Please allow me to do something for you.”

His dark eyes looked down into hers as if searching them for at least a spark of the feeling she had once had for him.  Those eyes…his soft-as-velvet voice…his closeness…. What had she once said to him?  I always lose with you, don’t I?

She let out the breath she had been holding and sighed.  “All right, Barnabas, I’ll have dinner with you.  What time should I be there?”

~ ~ ~

And so Julia Hoffman found herself at the Old House on Halloween celebrating her birthday with Barnabas, the man she had been avoiding for over six months.  He had been so attentive to her this evening that she wondered if he was the same Barnabas Collins that she had known for four years.

Maybe I should have played harder to get all these years, she mused with an ironic little smile.

Lost in her memories, Julia turned back toward the window - and found herself face to face with the spectral vision once more.  She suppressed her gasp with an effort this time and started to walk toward the window, but the room seemed to elongate in front of her.  The closer she tried to get to the little face, the farther away it seemed.  But she was not too far away to notice that the tiny mouth was moving this time, talking, talking to her.  She stood very still, straining to hear its words through the thick glass or at the very least, to read its lips.  The being seemed desperate to tell Julia something, and she now felt just as desperate to learn its message or request.  She was just beginning to detect a slight high-pitched sound when a sudden “clunk” behind her made her jump and spin around on her heels.

           

Barnabas stood by the table where he had just set down a large, finely detailed silver tray bearing a silver coffee service and two slices of pumpkin mousse pie.  He noted Julia’s ashen face with alarm and crossed the room to her in quick strides. 

“Julia, what is it?” he asked with concern evident in his voice.

“That face, Barnabas,” she answered in a shaky voice, gesturing toward the window.  “That face in the window – I’ve seen it twice since you left the room.”

Barnabas glanced behind her at the window.  “What face, Julia?”  he asked confused.

“That fa-” she began as she turned to find the window empty once more.  She stopped and strode over to it, tentatively placing her hand against the cold glass before looking back at his anxious face.  “There was something – someone – there, Barnabas, peering in at me.  It looked like, well, like a child, and it seemed to be trying to tell me something.”

He took a step closer to her.  “Sarah?” he asked hopefully.

“No, no, Barnabas, it wasn’t Sarah.  I wondered about that at first, but now I know it was definitely not Sarah.”

His face fell just a little bit before becoming renewed with concern for Julia once again.  “Did it try to get in, Julia?  Do you think that it meant you any harm?”

“No,” she answered slowly.  “And no.  But it definitely wanted something of me, I’m sure of that much.”  Julia rubbed her arms reflexively as another chill began to climb its way up her spine.

“Julia, you stay here.  I’m going to take a look outside,” he said in an authoritative voice.

“I am not your typical damsel in distress, Barnabas,” she bristled.  “I am perfectly capable of investigating this myself, you know.”

A ghost of a smile played at Barnabas’ mouth, but he suppressed it before it could blossom into a full-fledged grin.  Instead, he moved closer to her and placed strong hands on her shoulders.  “I know that, my dear.  I know that you are no hothouse flower and that you can take care of yourself.  But the night is cold, and you are not properly dressed for an excursion outside.  Let me do this for you, Julia,” he insisted.

She nodded what she hoped looked like her reluctant agreement.  In truth, she was relieved that he was going to do this alone.  The apparition had unnerved her for some reason, and she was glad to be remaining in the toasty warmth of his drawing room.

“Be careful, Barnabas.”

He nodded, grabbed his cape and opened the front door, fighting a powerful gust of wind as he stepped outside.  She saw him peer in at her from the window and noted that his face looked perfectly normal through the glass, nothing like the pale visage that she had seen there.  He disappeared again, and she assumed that he was checking around the rest of the mansion and the grounds.  She went to the table and poured herself a cup of hot coffee from the silver pot, silently wishing for a chaser of whiskey to calm her jangled nerves.

A faint scratching noise jolted her from her thoughts, and she carefully and deliberately replaced her cup before turning around.  She knew what she would see, and the thought alone sent tendrils of icy fear snaking thorough her limbs.  Slowly, she forced herself to face the window again. It was there, of course, pleading with her anew, begging her to do…something.  Julia tried to swallow her fear, the fear that now pervaded her very bones for she knew instinctively that it was extremely important – to her- that she decipher the ghostly vision’s message.

The cold hand that grasped her arm caused her to cry out in alarm. She turned wild eyes on an alarmed Barnabas as she shook free of his grip.  “Barnabas!  Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again!” she shrieked as her slight body shook from the fright he had given her.  “I’m terribly sorry, Julia.  You were so still, it worried me.  Did you see the face again?”

“Yes…yes I did.   Oh Barnabas, it looks so familiar, and yet, I can’t remember where I’ve seen it before. I know it needs me or needs something from me, but I don’t know what it is!”

Her shaking intensified, and her drew her into his arms to hold her close.  “I found nothing outside, Julia, so I don’t have an explanation for what you are seeing.  But I want you to stop worrying about it.  I have a feeling that it won’t reappear as long as I am with you.”

“But Barnabas-”

“Shh,” he soothed her, pulling her closer to his broad chest.  “I’m here, Julia, and you are safe.  I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Julia pressed herself closer to him in an effort to absorb some of his strength and warmth.  The scent of him entered her with each breath she drew, calming and relaxing her.  She had needed this touch from him for so long despite what she had tried to tell herself.  And she realized now that she could forgive him – anything.

She felt his hands begin to slowly stroke her back in wide circles as he sighed her name into her ear.  Her earlier worries seemed to dissolve then, and although she did not understand why, she felt that the situation with the ghostly messenger had been resolved.  She leaned back slightly to look up into his face, and in the next moment, she found her lips engulfed by his in a warm, gentle kiss.  His hands moved from her back to start a sensuous journey up and down her sides as she moaned her pleasure at his touch.  Her response encouraged him, and he took her lips more deeply and with purpose only to abandon them a moment later to explore her neck and the skin at the base of her throat and beyond…

As Barnabas took her hand to lead her upstairs to his bedroom, Julia cast one more quick glance at the window.  For a brief instant, she thought she saw a tiny face smiling in at her through the glass.

Halloween – One Year Later

A wail pierced the still night air of the Old House.  Julia awoke with a start and sat straight up in bed.  She reluctantly pushed aside the thick covers and braced herself for the sting of the chilly October air through her cotton nightgown.

A warm hand restrained her and pulled her back down into the bed. 

“I’ll go, Julia,” Barnabas said in a voice thick with sleep.

“It’s all right, Barnabas.  I’m awake.”

“No, you go back to sleep.  It’s your birthday, remember?”

She glanced at the clock: after 2 AM.  “You’re right,” she acknowledged with a small laugh as she burrowed back under the covers.  “Thank you, darling.”

He gave her a quick kiss before bolting for the warmth of his robe.  “I’ll be back,” he promised, and she heard him pad down the hall and open the nursery door.

She gave a small sigh knowing it might be awhile before she gave in to sleep again. One of the hazards of being a doctor, she supposed.  Instant wakefulness and awareness even in the middle of the night.

Her birthday again already.  And Halloween, too.  She thought back to last Halloween and reflected on how much her life had changed since then.  She had been so angry with Barnabas up until that night.  Now they had been married close to a year, and she was the mother of two and a half month old Jeremiah.  She smiled as she rubbed her thumb across the thick gold band that adorned her left ring finger.  Dr. Julia Hoffman Collins, Barnabas’ wife.  Thank goodness she had agreed to have dinner with him that night.  She had ended up in his arms, and they had conceived Jeremiah that night in this very bed. 

           

Julia smiled warmly as she remembered that night and how sweet Barnabas had been.  How he had held her and kissed her for the first time.  How he had…. She stopped and frowned, remembering something else.  The reason she had been in Barnabas' arms in the first place.

           

The face in the window.

She had forgotten all about it. Once she and Barnabas had confessed their love to each other that Halloween night, events had moved so quickly – Barnabas had proposed to her, she had discovered she was pregnant, the wedding, Jeremiah’s birth – that the apparition had flown from her mind.  And the ghostly face had never appeared to her again so she had not given it another thought.

Until tonight.

Until tonight when she realized that if it hadn’t been for that face and the way it had spooked her, she might not have turned to Barnabas.  She might not have allowed him back into her heart  - and they might not have created their precious little son.

She still didn’t know who or what had appeared to her that night, and she drifted back to sleep wondering who it had been, that face in the window?

Halloween – Five Years Later

“Are you done yet, Mommy?” the little boy asked impatiently as his mother tugged at him here and there.

“Almost, Jeremiah.  Just hold still a moment, and then we can go over to Collinwood,” Julia told her son as she put the finishing touches on his pirate costume.  (Werewolf, ghost, witch and vampire costumes had been discouraged in the Collins’ household.)

After one final tug, she stepped back to survey her handiwork.  A red and white striped bandana covered the little pirate’s dark head, and a matching shirt was tucked into billowing black trousers.  These in turn were tucked into high black boots.   A black skull and crossbones patch lay across one brown eye and a large gold earring hung from one small ear.  A long plastic sword almost as big as he was was clasped in his tiny hand, and he jabbed it through the air while shouting appropriate pirate phrases:  “Ahoy there, matey!”  “Shiver me timbers.”  And his all-time favorite, “I’ll run ya through, ya bilge rat!”

Julia frowned as his antics caused some of her work to go askew, and she leaned down over him once again.

“I’m so glad you let me come in, Mommy,” he said brightly as he wiggled and wriggled in her grasp. 

“Let you come in?’ she asked distractedly as she fought with the knot in his bandana.

“Yes, it was lonely out there.  I wanted so much to be in here with you and Daddy.”

“When were you lonely, Jeremiah?” Julia asked, only half-focusing on what he was saying.  He had been so excited about Halloween all day long that she had had to tune out some of his exuberance.

“On Halloween, Mommy.  I wanted you to let me in.”

Julia’s hands stopped their fussing, and she paused to look intently into his solemn face.

“What Halloween, Jeremiah?” she asked, trying to suppress a shudder.  She knew he was not old enough to really have memories of past Halloweens.  “When did I have to let you in?”

“Oh, it was a long time ago,” he said seriously before his child’s attention span had reached its limit.  “Can we go to Collinwood now?” he asked with renewed enthusiasm.  “Do you think Aunt Elizabeth will like my costume?”

“Yes, yes, of course she will, Blackbeard,” his mother assured him as her mind tried to assimilate what he had just said to her.

Jeremiah skipped off to look into the full-length gilt-edged mirror in the corner of his parents’ room as Julia’s mind tumbled back in time to a Halloween six years ago.  She had been so disturbed by what she had seen that night.  And in her distress, she had accepted Barnabas’ affections and opened her heart to him – and conceived Jeremiah.

She had let him come in.

“Oh my God,” she murmured under her breath, one hand pressed to the base of her throat.  “Jeremiah, was that…was that you?” she whispered. 

It was so incredible – but Julia Hoffman Collins knew just how incredible life could be.  And as she looked across the room at her son watching himself in the mirror, she finally understood – everything – about the face in the window.

THE END

NOTE:  Twelve years after my older sister was born, my father told my mother that there was still a face in the window.  That face was me.  Thanks for letting me in, Dad!