Part Six--- Cagney and Lacey: Restitution--- Dark Shadows in the Land of Dreams
by Lorraine A. Balint

PART TWENTY---- SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 2000

Michael Lacey, always an early riser, was in the kitchen preparing coffee, when there was an insistent ringing of the front door bell. Darned Jehovah's Witnesses, he thought irritably. Didn't the idiots now this was the Sheriff's house, and that she was resting after several days of extremely trying events?

Apparently not, since the ringing sounded a couple more times. The young man hurried to the door, an angry phrase on the tip of his tongue, which died there, when he saw--- Willie Loomis!

Even so, Michael WAS irked. "Mr. Loomis--- Willie, I know you're family, and I know you've helped us a lot in the last 2 weeks, but what in damnation could be SO important that you have to interrupt my family's rest on a SATURDAY!"

"It's just that--- I need to tell Mary Beth something. I was gonna wait until she went to the hospital to see Harvey and Alice, but it seems I have a lot of packing to do, for several people. I--- we--- well, me, Maggie, Vicki, and Jeremy, are flying to Las Vegas tomorrow afternoon."

"TOMORROW! My God, man, Vicki and Jeremy were just in the hospital--- Vicki was still THERE, as of last night. She has a bullet wound, remember? And Jeremy was questioned by my Mom."

"Well, Vicki's getting out at 10 A.M. tomorrow--- Doc Lang's and Doc Bertrand's medicine seems to have healing powers for any kind of puncture wounds. Her shoulder already had nice solid scabs on it, and was less sore, when I left her last night And any charges against Jeremy were dropped, you can confirm this with your Mom. But we're not going to Las Vegas for a vacation. It was just a cheaper flight and better motels to stay in, instead of South Carolina."

"NOW I'm lost. Why should ANYONE have to make a choice between Las Vegas and South Carolina?"

"To get MARRIED. Jeremy and Vicki. Not me and Maggie, we're just going along as witnesses and to take care of the kids if they have relapses. But if the Sheriff needs us, we'll be back in a couple of days."

Michael sputtered, "Well, this is kind of sudden, though I'd heard those two were engaged. But I thought they broke up, because of whatever happened in that tunnel."

"Things change in a flash around here. But it's a change for the better. Like, for instance, Jeremy was so down because he resigned from being a doctor. But Vicki said it was okay, if he got a new job and had to move, she could be a teacher anywhere, so she didn't mind going with him. Then, Dr. Lang came into the room to check on Vicki. When he saw Jeremy, he said in that booming voice of his, 'It's a wretched shame that a fine young doctor should lose his entire career that he'd spent years learning, due to one early mistake.' Jeremy said he thought there were still medical-type jobs he could get, and Lang said, 'Of course there are, young man. I've been getting into some interesting research with Dr. Bertrand, and I'll need an assistant. I think, and I believe Allarice will concur, you'd be splendid for the position.' SPLENDID, he said! Jeremy has a new job, just like that, and he won't have to leave Collinsport after all, except to get married."

"That's really great, but why the hurry to get married now?"

"We're family, I guess I can tell you and your folks. It turns out Vicki is expecting. Jeremy and she decided to get married right away, so it won't screw her up too much with HER job as a teacher. She feels she should set an example. They're going to live in their own little gingerbread-type house in town, close to the school and the Evans Gallery, and Doc Lang. Barnabas insisted on putting up the money for it as a wedding present, even though Vicki inherited plenty from Timothy Adam Samwell."

Willie thought proudly of his daughter's strained but willing effort to forgive Barnabas as well as Jeremy. A chip off the old block, SHE was. Vicki had declared forthrightly, "I was drugged, Mr. Collins, but I pretty much saw everything you did to Alice and I also know what you did to Jeremy and myself. But, like my mother, I will keep quiet. I know you weren't your typical self, the way I remember over the years when Jeremy and I were both children. I remember what Jason said--- much of this was HIS fault. But I will never mention this again, mainly for Jeremy's sake. You know, I could go on, somehow, if Jeremy disappeared from my life, though I still love him and I'm carrying his child. My mother and I got along for years after my stepfather died, though my real father offered to marry her countless times. But it wouldn't have been right for them.

"But if Jeremy lost ME, and lost YOU as well, THAT would be wrong for HIM. So, even though I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable dealing with you from now on, I WILL do whatever is in Jeremy's best interests. Because HIS interests have ALWAYS been mine. I will forgive you, but with a caveat. I do NOT wish to live under your roof. I have a lot of money now, I can certainly afford a house in town. This doesn't mean we won't see each other, or that you will be cut off from your grandchild. Just that I want to be the primary influence on my husband, and I want HIS influence on ME to be untainted by evil from the past. Not that I think YOU are the source of the evil, but you DO seem to be a good channel for it, and that house---!. So long as you remain good, I wouldn't dream of limiting my husband's access to you, but he MUST live in neutral territory, just in case. . ."

Barnabas had said, meekly, "Julia would have agreed with you, my dear. But I insist on putting something towards your first home. My parents--- well, specifically my mother, who really owned the place--- gave me the Old House when I first married. It's fitting that I should do no less for MY son."

Barnabas had a look of exaltation in his eyes and true humility, when he'd begged Jeremy's
forgiveness--- "I have been the Prodigal Father, my son. I am not worthy to darken the doorstep of
your new home."

Jeremy had said, shakily, "You-- you just took fatherly pride and family tradition too far. I just hope MOTHER forgives you when you finally meet her again. What you did closed a big door for me, but another one just opened. If I do well, perhaps, someday, I will be able to say that it was all part of some vast Eternal Plan, and that what you did to me, helped put me on the right path. Rather like that crippled police officer in New York who pretends to be grateful to the criminals who made him a quadriplegic, because NOW he knows what's important in life!" He wept bitterly. "Papa, I loved you, I trusted you. I don't know if I can ever do that again!"

"You don't have to, Jeremy," Barnabas sighed. "But I still love and trust YOU. And your very wise fiancee. You both were partly raised by the most trustworthy man I ever dealt with, who did NOT start out that way, nor did he have to STAY that way, once he was free to make his own choices. But he DID, because of his love for the two of you, and his faith in my character. I can do no less than to spend the balance of MY life working to regain all of your confidences. But most, of all, YOU, my beloved child."

Jeremy couldn't bring himself to embrace his father, but he'd taken Barnabas's hand, and both wept.
"I will make the effort, for Mother's sake," the younger man said. "She forgave you for doing horrible things, yet she loved you and gave me to you, without any guarantees that the good days would last."

"Got to take it day by day, then," Willie had concluded. "Sounds like one of those old cliches, but words don't get to be cliches unless they have some kind of truth that applies to every situation." Now, he thought, if only Miss Cagney and the Laceys could make some kind of peace with Barnabas.

Willie snapped out of his reverie, and said to Michael Lacey, "The marriage, the new house, and, most of all, that baby, WILL help Barnabas's family get along better. That damned Jason did a lot of damage to that family as well as yours."

"I'm sure that's the very best thing, then, Willie. Congratulations, Grandpa. I hope Iris and myself will be making OUR folks as happy in the near future. Well, let me get Mom."

"And Miss Cagney too."

"What about me, Willie?" Christine, fully dressed in her sweater, jeans, and the new pair of Rockport loafers, and carrying one heavy-looking suitcase and dragging a bigger one, a pullman on wheels, walked into the room.

"Oh, so you ARE going home, then," Willie said. "Well, I'm glad I caught you while you were still here. I have some good news for Mary Beth and Harvey, and some for you, too."

Michael ran to waken his mother, who protested sleepily, "Tell Willie to get back to me this afternoon when he comes home from--- Las Vegas, did you say?" Mary Beth jumped up, and pulled on her heavy robe. "Willie," she said breathlessly as she hurried into the living room, "what's this about Las Vegas?"

Willie explained. Then he said, "I wanted to make sure this deal I have going was finalized before I stepped on a plane, just in case, you know. . . I caught Tony Peterson, just as he was dragging his tail
in the door at 7 A.M., to help me sign all the papers."

"WHAT papers?" the group shouted in unison.

"The papers I got from Adam--- Mr. Samwell's estate. I was one of the heirs, along with Vicki, Elliot, and Pauline, but I couldn't keep the money for myself. I had to designate an heir! Since Vicki already had HER share, this was kind of a problem, until YOU guys moved into town, and I found out we were related. So, after putting a certain amount aside to help out Job, Kenny and Danny, and a wedding present for my daughter, and some dough for Candy Cane, the Lacey family, including your son Harvey Junior, and Harvey Senior's brother Carl Lacey, whom I haven't met yet, and YOU, Miss Cagney, will be sharing a load of investments and hard cash worth about 75 MILLION---"

Mary Beth was screaming, "You CAN'T do this, Willie! God, NO WONDER you didn't tell Harvey! This would make his new heart EXPLODE!"

Michael, dazed, said, "That's awfully nice of you, Willie, but really, maybe it's a HASTY decision? It's not that we don't APPRECIATE this. . . And I'm sure any of us would do the same for YOU. . . It's too much to take in right now."

Christine said, "It's touching that you want to include ME, Willie, but I came from a wealthy family on my mother's side, and I've had a trust fund since forever. Of course, it doesn't contain 75 million dollars, but it should keep me pretty comfortable into old age, once I retire."

Willie said, "I was just trying to be fair. You're part of the family. If you want less than what I worked out for you, you and the Laceys can decide that. But I want you to have SOMETHING."

"If you think it will make up to me for being Jason's daughter, or the problems with Barnabas, well, it WON'T, Willie. But I have a couple of nieces, and grand-nieces and nephews I'd like to spoil, and some
some favorite charities. I'm sure the money will come in handy for them. But, what about YOU?"

"I'm going to work for Quentin. He promised he'd take care of everything for me." Willie was leery of mentioning his plans with Amy.

Mary Beth said, "Well, you're pretty closely related to his branch of the family, so that's only right.
I guess it will be hard for Barnabas, left on his own."

"We're going to find him someone else, a younger, healthier butler or whatever. Maybe from England.
They have special schools for them out there, I've heard. I could put some money toward THAT, I suppose. Barnabas WAS good to me for over 30 years, but things change in a flash, like I said. I STILL wish, Miss Cagney---"

"So THAT'S what this little legacy for ME is all about, eh, Willie? So I'd have incentive to quit my job and move up here for Barnabas?"

Willie turned red. "Well, it DID cross my mind! But you still get the money, whether you do or not."

"I'll have to think THAT over, too. In the meantime, you can help Mary Beth talk Alice into applying to Yale or Harvard or Smith or even Barnard, and even put something aside for when she marries Elliot Collins someday. Now, she'll be in HIS league. And how about a boat for your fishing expeditions with Harvey? Sky's the limit. Now, I have to go." Christine hugged Mary Beth and Michael. She was a little reluctant with Willie, who seemed eager to embrace her. In the end, she shook his hand firmly. She said, "Oh, Mary Beth, be sure to give my regards to 'Johnny' Newman." Jonah was currently staying in a small motel on the edge of town, whimsically, but unoriginally, named "Bide-A-Wee."

"He'll still be here, next time you come up," Mary Beth said. "You know, some of this money might help him out, getting established again, after all these years. With so many men out due to the recent crisis, I offered, and he accepted, a position on my police force, but he'll need an apartment, more clothes, food, a wide-screen TV. . ." She laughed.

"Now THAT's a charity I would be willing to subscribe to," Christine said. "Well, Willie, I guess this legacy IS going to benefit someone else I care for, after all. I thank you on Officer Newman's behalf."

Both Michael and Willie approached Christine, with offers to carry her luggage, but she shook her head, and shuffled out, dragging the pullman, whose wheels caught at the door sill on her way out. With a mild curse, she got it free, and made it to her car. "She doesn't want us to see her cry," Mary Beth declared.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"75 MILLION?" Harvey sputtered. "Well, now, Mary Beth, I guess you CAN quit the job, after all. Accepting so much dough from a former suspect would be considered MORE than a little unethical,
wouldn't it?"

"I guess so," Mary Beth sighed wistfully. "Too bad in a way, because I've been thinking over your arguments for keeping the job and our new home. It's a strange paradise, this Collinsport. What do you call those places where, say gravity doesn't appear to work right, or there are electrical disturbances that make all radios and things not work, or those black holes in outer space?"

"A vortex." Harvey had discovered that word when doing a crossword puzzle just prior to moving to Maine. "That's what this place is. Where things and people don't operate under the same rules as the rest of the world, but they survive and thrive, anyway. And now, you want to stay?"

"Well, we can use the money to pay off the house, put away Alice's entire future college tuition, help Mike and Iris if she's still sick, visit Harvey Junior and Krystal out in California---"

Harvey made a sour face. Of course, he longed to see his eldest son; the last time had been at Michael and Iris's wedding the previous summer; but he couldn't warm up to Krystal as he could with Iris. "Of course I want to see young Harvey," he said loyally, "maybe we can even send him the money to visit us here. We could even set him up in his own business if we wanted to. That might please Krystal and those parents of hers."

Mary Beth agreed about her daughter-in-law, but she'd been their son's choice, and while not a warm person to her in-laws, might be quite different in private with her husband. If Muriel had known what happened to ME before I met Harvey, Mary Beth thought, she might not have taken to me at all. As it was, THAT friendship had taken years to develop, so THIS new mother-in-law was quite willing to give Krystal the benefit of the doubt.

"We'll need guidance as to what we should do with the money," she said, finally. "I was thinking of one of those trusts that pays off only if the recipients maintain a job and some kind of personal stability.
I don't mean, let's arrange a marriage for Alice with Elliot right now, or demand that our kids stay married if they're truly and unrelievedly miserable, or punish Mike if he wants to cut back on his job to do more work for Habitat. Reasonable stuff, like matching their salaries and giving them a little bonus if they're investing, or buying a house, or carrying them when they're too sick to work. This way, the money could be made to last, even GROW, so even our grand-kids and great-grandkids could benefit. Christine, or, more likely, her brother Brian, might know a good financial planner who could help set things up."

Harvey laughed. "In a generation or two, the Laceys could be in the Social Register with the Collinses! We could buy a part of their company, like that poor Samwell guy did. But it would be okay, since we're Collinses, too! Even my brother, Carl--- he and Margie have been longing for a nice condo down in Florida. Hell, they can live in Palm Springs and play golf with the Kennedys!"

Mary Beth kissed him on the lips for the first time since the week before that terrible night. Harvey wrapped his arms around her, and make a half-serious effort to pull her onto the bed. "It's that new heart, Mary Beth," he panted with a passion that was only partly humorous. "It's made a new man of me. I can't wait until we're back together in our own bed."

"D'you think you can really do that anymore, Harvey?" she asked seriously. "I can imagine if you were a younger, otherwise healthier guy to begin with, maybe you could handle the strain, but just because you have a younger man's heart doesn't mean you can do all the things that younger man would have done."

Harvey nuzzled his wife's fluffy salt-and-pepper hair--- in the last 2 weeks, the salt had overtaken the pepper. "I'm not afraid to ask Dr. Lang, Dr. Mehta, AND Dr. Heard, all at the same time! If at least 2 out of 3 agree with me, I'm not afraid to go for it. Don't worry, though, I won't try it until I've had a proper recuperation period. But in the meantime, we can have a little, NON-ATHLETIC-type fun!" He flashed a naughty grin.

"Oh, Harv," Mary Beth replied with a husky giggle, turning red.

Harvey looked deep into her eyes. "Why Mary Beth, you're blushing just like you did on our
wedding-night."

"So are YOU! I guess we're not too old after all, if we BOTH can still blush about THAT."
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Carolyn Stoddard Peterson sat tensely in the drawing-room of the Great House of Collinwood. She had
been making small talk with the chairman of the board of directors of the German branch of Collins Enterprises, who had come a couple of days early for David Collins's memorial service, which was set for Monday morning. "Amazing, Frau Peterson," he said, "The new seafood-cloning division now belongs to your nephew-- is THAT what he is?--- young Elliot, and that peculiar fellow, Willi, a former servant, you have said?"

"Well, my COUSIN Elliot may not WANT to pursue that as a career, but I suppose he WILL have to take up some studies in order to run the division when he is of age, unless he decides to sell to the other heirs at that time. As for Mr. Loomis, he is merely an executor of sorts. He has chosen the true heirs--- long-lost cousins of the Collinses, and a woman who happens to be related to me on my father's side. They have no experience in that field either, I'm afraid, but my--my husband will be going over some of the aspects with them. They have 2 sons, both reputedly very bright young fellows, but involved in the computer and architectural fields. They DO have a younger sister who is brilliant, and will no doubt attend an Ivy League college, but unfortunately for the company, she's a VEGETARIAN. I doubt she'll approve of cloning animals to be used as food or any other commodity."

"Perhaps we can start a division just for the cloning of pet goldfish, jah? THAT might please the young fraulein!" The executive squeezed Carolyn's hand.

"Johann, words canNOT express how MUCH I'm enjoying your sense of humor." What a tiresome man, Carolyn thought, making these stupid jokes in the advent of a FUNERAL! And who, furthermore, gazed upon her still-svelte frame, made even more elegant by the black sheath she wore, with sheepish lust. Thank God, Pauline was still in the hospital, or she, too, might have come under Johann's leering scrutiny. Marisol, Heather, and even shy, serious Emily had taken pains to avoid him. Pauline had recovered from her brief bout of bleeding, but Dr. Heard thought she would be better off staying under hospital supervision for another day or so, lest she get into another situation that called for a super-heroine. If there was a casket to be carried, Pauline's mother thought, my daughter would have offered to be a pall-bearer. As it was, the girl wouldn't come home until Johann was on his plane back to Berlin.

The doorbell, which sounded like the chimes of Westminster, reverberated in the foyer. Carolyn gratefully rose to answer it. She was completely surprised to see--- "Miss Cagney! My goodness, is there anything else the Sheriff requires?"

"No, I just came to say good-bye," Christine replied. "I'm going back to New York."

"Oh, so I guess this means, you haven't reconciled with--- oh, sorry, that's none of my business. I DO understand, though, better than you know. Well, DO come in."

Christine could see the very tall Aryan type waiting impatiently for Carolyn on the loveseat in the Drawing room. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, actually, I'd like you to meet him. He's chairman of the board in the German branch of Collins enterprises, the very branch you and the Laceys now own."

Johann sauntered over. His lustful expression faded when he saw Christine, though not into disappointment. "Gruss Gott!" he breathed. "You--you are, what do you Americans call it, the SPIT of my sister!"

"EXCUSE Me?" Christine said. "Oh, you mean, spitting image. Well, isn't it a small world, but when you come to Collinsport, it seems EVERYONE discovers their--- how do YOU say it---DOPPELGANGER!"

Carolyn said, "Well, isn't this interesting! And a coincidence. Johann, Herr Holmstadt, that is, and I were just discussing you and the Laceys."

"HOLMSTADT, you say?" Christine's eyes were WIDE open now.

"Jah," Johann said. "You are familiar with the name?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, just a few days ago, I learned that my mother's family's name was originally Holmstadt."

"You mean the Olmsteads, which were MY father's mother's family as well," Carolyn explained. "I never thought about it, before, but I suppose the name WAS 'Americanized' when the first Holmstadt came over."

"That would have been the 1850's, I'd say," Christine said. "My grandfather would have been the grandson of that Holmstadt, Hansel."

"Hansel?" Holmstadt shouted. "This is too grand! There WAS a Hansel in my family, so long ago, who went to America, but the family lost track of him. No doubt, he wanted to be American in EVERY way. "

"He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, I'd say," Christine said. "HE was a poor farmer, but his grandson owned Olmstead Machine Corporation until it was bought out by DresCorp."

"DresCorp is MY father's company in Dresden," Johann said excitedly. "I wonder if Father ever noticed the sameness of the names. But, ach, he was too much the businessman to pay attention. If the company could turn a profit, that was all he cared for. Well, this is very very good--- now I have TWO lovely cousins. I will have to visit again and again!" At THAT declaration, Carolyn's face fell.

"Not ME," Christine said, with a wink to her Collins cousin. "I was just visiting friends up here. Today I'm going home to New York. But if you're in Manhattan and want to get together to discuss family history, I think I have a business card in here somewhere." She fished through her purse until she found one.

"Christine Cagney," Johann read. "My sister's name is Kristina! It IS a small world, indeed." He kissed her hand.

"Yes, and getting smaller by the minute. Carolyn, I wanted to see your Uncle Roger especially, and Elliot."

"Elliot's with Hannah and Alice at the hospital, but Uncle Roger is upstairs in Baby Roger's nursery. He just can't wait for that baby to come home, he's fussing over that room like a grandMOTHER. I'm glad for him, since it DOES take his mind off David for while. I do believe, he may will himself to live until that baby grows up! Excuse me, Johann." Carolyn briskly lead Christine up the stairs, muttering under her breath, "He's AWFUL! And now, he's part of the family TOO!"

"You can pick your friends, Carolyn, but you can't pick your relatives. Hey, it isn't all bad, is it? I mean, for one Johann Holmstadt, you still have a whole flock of Laceys, and myself, of course. And, I forgot to ask, is he single?"

"Divorced. I can certainly understand why! Good Lord, YOU'RE not interested in someone else, so soon after--- oh, I'm sorry again."

Christine's eyes filled again. "No," she said in a voice hoarse with a sadness she tried to repress. "Anyway," she continued, "I look like his SISTER, for goodness' sake. But he was sure zooming in on YOU. Wonder what Tony would say?" she teased.

Carolyn turned away. "I--I don't know. Probably, nothing. Tony knows I wouldn't cheat. And I'd have to be DESPERATE to want to cheat with--with that LECH! Even if he IS my 5th or 6th cousin a few times removed--- and reminds me of a man I was mad about, years ago!" Burke Devlin, she suddenly realized. From some angles, the tall, rugged Johann, with his jutting chin and devil-may-care manner, bore SOME resemblence to the muy-macho millionaire ex-con who'd stolen her teenaged heart, as well as poor Vicki Winters's, and died in a plane crash in the Brazilian jungle over 30 years earlier. Still, Carolyn told herself, the resemblance really doesn't mean anything. Johann's still a chauvinist pig!

Christine put her hand on Carolyn's arm. "Well, Cousin, you seem a little out of sorts. I have to tell you, I KNOW Quentin had a hard time getting Tony to come back to see Amy the other night. Even though I know Willie saw him this morning, I won't ask where he is NOW. I won't talk about this at all, if you're uncomfortable, but if you ever need someone to spill to, trust me, kiddo, I've BEEN there. I KNOW how it feels. From BOTH sides. In SPADES. Okay?" She rummaged in her purse again. This time, she wrote her home phone number and address on the back of the card, and handed it to Carolyn.

Carolyn hugged her. "I'll come down to the city for a visit when--when things are settled. Just make sure JOHANN isn't visiting at the same time."

They arrived at the nursery. As Carolyn predicted, Roger was wheeling around, gazing at the fresh paint and the new toys that crowded the antique crib generations of Collins babies had slept in. "I ordered the special webbing around the bars," he announced brightly, as if seeking approval. "The old one was a bit tattered and dirty already from the twins."

"That's great, now the crib will be quite safe for little Roger," Carolyn said gently. She kissed her uncle's bald pate. "But I'm sorry to tell you, Christine is here to say good-bye. She's going home to New York."

"But I'll be back," Christine said. "I promise."

"I certainly hope I'll be around the next time you come, dear," Roger said. "It's hard to live without my son, but I WANT to be around for the little ones, especially my namesake. Whom YOU brought into the world."

"Me, AND Mary Beth," Christine reminded him. "But it's true, I AM fond of the baby. I hope to catch glimpses of him growing up, too."

"I'd like to think you'll be around for MORE than just glimpses, Christine," Roger replied. "For a while, I thought you'd be a permanent fixture up here, along with the Sheriff. I know Pauline and Hannah wish it were so."

"Well, Mary Beth won't be the Sheriff much longer now that Willie's given her family his share of Adam's money, but she WILL stick around. This isn't the end of Collinsport for me, either. But I originally came up here for a vacation. And now, I need a vacation FROM my vacation!" Christine laughed a little uneasily.

"Well, my dear, before you depart, there IS something I promised to give you. Follow me." Roger led the two women to his large, but plainly-furnished bedroom. He fingered an album on his bookshelf. In a moment, he had it opened in his lap, and was extracting a black-and-white snapshot. "See, just like I told you, Christine. This is your mother as I remember her. Beautiful, ethereal Katherine Olmstead, and my equally beautiful late sister, Elizabeth, both aged about 18. Snow White and Rose Red, I used to call them."

Christine and Carolyn gazed at the two girls, who were posed jauntily at the foot of the grand staircase in the foyer. The bannisters were decorated with pine wreaths and tinsel, and the girls themselves were scarcely less adorned, in sophisticated couture and jewelry that made them look like young Hollywood starlets. Exquisite Kaye, platinum blonde like Jean Harlow. Sultry Elizabeth, her dark hair like a cloud, looking a lot like an actress Charlie had once said he had a crush on as a boy--- "one of those Bennett sisters, Joan, I think it was." Christine barely remembered the face of the lady who'd come to dinner all those years ago; Elizabeth had been at least 10 years older than in this picture, and rather careworn, but she vaguely remembered her father DID make a minor fuss over the lovely dinner guest, until JASON showed up!

Christine exclaimed, "It's hard to believe this was taken by a 10-year-old kid! I can't take this from
you--- after all, Carolyn's mother's in it, perhaps she'd want it?"

"I've found a couple more with Elizabeth in them, and I'll give them to her presently," Roger said. "This is yours. Your face--- can't you see? The same delicate lines, though I know you'll say you're too puffy and old and so forth. What nonsense. The beautiful you is still there, the same as your mother. I'd happily have HER alive, puffy and all, because I know what she once WAS, had always BEEN. Even as a young boy. She was a very special lady."

"I know what you mean," Christine said, "and I thank you from the bottom of my heart." She kissed Roger on the lips. He clung to her for a minute. "My brother, Brian," she added, "HE'LL be thrilled. He has a daughter who resembles this picture as well."

"Well, I'm sure Johann will be interested," Carolyn said. "We just found out, Uncle Roger, that Herr Holmstadt is a distant relative of mine and Christine's."

"Good," Roger said. "It's always a challenge to do business with family. Keeps the blood pumping far better than with a competitor."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Christine drove to the hospital. She passed Mary Beth on the road; the latter evidently heading home after a visit with Harvey. Christine almost honked her horn and waved, but she had already said her good-byes to her former partner for the time being. If she signalled to Mary Beth, they'd just pull over to the side, hugging and crying for an hour, which would have spoiled the rather tight driving schedule Christine had laid out for herself. She hoped to be past Boston by rush hour, and checked into a motel in Fall River well before 10 P.M.

Once at Seamen's Memorial, Christine briskly made her planned stops inside. First, to Harvey's room. HE hugged her and got them both sniffling. "Chris, please don't feel guilty about what happened. It wasn't because of YOU--- not ANY of it," he insisted. "Mary Beth didn't have enough evidence to charge Barnabas up till now, otherwise, you KNOW she would have, no matter what kind of relationship you two had. Thank God, we found out in time it was JASON who did it all, even screwing up Amy Jennings's head. And it's NOT your fault whether he's your father or half-brother or cousin. Maybe this HAD to happen to put all that shit to rest finally. This is gonna be a whole new town from here on out."

Chrstine shook her head. "Three hundred years of 'vampires and witches and ghosts, oh my!' AREN'T going to come to a screeching halt forever thanks to the vanquishing of ONE ghoul."

"Maybe, from now on, all the so-called 'ghouls' will be HUMANS. We can handle THOSE."

"Maybe you're right, Harv," Christine smiled faintly. "I remember Mary Beth telling me that there was usually a 20 to 30-year hiatus in supernatural incidents around these parts, so we have it all sewed up until the NEXT generation is mature enough to take up the cudgels." Hopefully, she thought, Barnabas WILL be "really, truly, SINCERELY dead" by the time of the next incidents. Harsh to think of his death as a blessing in that context, and this still left the question of what would happen to Jeremy, Vicki, and their child by then--- the new family that would still have the taint of an old curse hanging over them like a sword of Damocles. I wonder if I'LL still be around by then, Christine thought. I wonder if I'll still even CARE. Or Mary Beth, with or without Harvey. They seemed destined to move closer in sync with the Colllinses, always an ominous thing, the new understanding with Carolyn, Roger, and Hallie notwithstanding.

But there's the KIDS, she thought--- Pauline, Elliot, Hannah, and the rest of their siblings, Alice and her brothers. . . Each generation took them further away from that long-ago time when a jealous husband murdered his wife and his brother, when a desperate mother killed her own son to save her grand-daughter, and later, left her baby great-grand-daughter on an alien doorstep. Eventually, the soupcon of blood from that dysfunctional clan would be no more than a period at the end of a sentence. Still, a virus was much smaller than THAT, and could contaminate the entire body unless there were antibodies to contain it. The antibody had come from a Collins, perhaps from a marriage with some now untraceable ancestor, or a spontaneous mutation. Perhaps 300 years of drinking lead-tainted water had this unexpected benefit!

But evil, the bane of all who were born human? Inborn instincts, the artifacts of evolution, rendered obsolete and even dangerous by civilization, yet emerging over and over again from the "Id"? Or was evil an objective menace, which came from a Devil or some other animus pitted against struggling humanity, which merely took advantage of the mis-use of these ancient survival instincts, and had a constant source of renewal thanks to all that nearly-mindless reproduction? Original sin, they'd called it.

Christine wearily shook off these thoughts. She wished she had time to stop in an talk to that Father Rondini she'd heard about, but there WERE churches aplenty in New York City. If a Catholic priest couldn't help, there were ministers, rabbis, imams, SOMEONE who could give her an answer she could use! My agnostic days are over forever, she concluded ruefully.

Harvey, noticing her distracted manner, prompted, "Have you decided what you're going to do about the Barnabas situation?"

"I don't know! How can I forgive and forget what happened in that tunnel room?"

"I'm still not clear on what DID happen, but he DID choose to sacrifice himself to make up for what he had been made to do. How can Mary Beth forgive and forget what Amy had me and Willie doing? How did I put up with what SHE did before we were married? Chris, you never saw a more modest little girl than she was back then. Very prim and proper, so much that I should have known right there and then she had something to hide. But there was something about her that I knew I couldn't live without.

"Still, I did what she wanted, hands off the goodies and all that, just making out a little, till she said 'stop!' The day that I said, 'I think we're getting serious here', she kind of backed away from me and said 'there's something I have to tell you, maybe you won't want to marry me any more but you have to know'. . ." Harvey choked back a great sob. "Maybe you always thought I was kind of a big noisy blow-hard, but I LISTENED to EVERY word. I WAS kind of mad, she wasn't exactly what she presented herself to be, but she hadn't done anything I didn't do with a couple of my old girlfriends, it was just on the female end, and SHE was unlucky enough to have gotten snagged. And she suffered so terribly."

Christine said, "I KNOW. I was THERE. I was the Samaritan who got her out of a jam, and kept it to MYSELF."

"Then, I thank you," Harvey replied. "If not for you, I wouldn't have had the best 32 years of my life. Because, as soon as she finished, I DEMANDED that we get married A.S.A.P. What a jerk I would have been to drop her over a mistake that she had obviously learned her lesson from, whatever the Hell lesson ANYONE could learn from such as that! And the first night. . . well, I won't go into the X-rated details, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't much different than a virgin's wedding-night. It's just two people, alone for the first time, strangers, almost, even if they love each other, finding out what makes the other person pleased and content, and the HELL with everyone else." At that, he rested back on his pillows, and closed his eyes, to hide the tears forming.

Christine leaned over, and kissed Harvey's much-furrowed forehead. He squeezed her hand, speechless with emotion. "Thanks, Harvey," Christine whispered. "I just want you to know, I NEVER thought you were a noisy blow-hard. You are on the VERY short list of the wisest men I've ever known."

Harvey, Brian, Bert Samuels, Albert Grand, Roger Collins, perhaps Job Woodard, WILLIE . . . It WAS a pretty short list at that, but Christine was on her way to say good-bye to the youngest member.

Elliot sat with his now-restored sister on his lap, and held hands with Alice, who looked quite rosy and lively, as they sat in those tacky Naugahide chairs placed next to each other in Alice's room. He was telling them a story, apparently from his family history. "And then, there's the legend of the Collins who was sailing back to America on the Titanic, but who was presumed lost after he had helped rescue a number of passengers. He was using a different name, but there was at least one old acquaintance on board who thought he recognized the fellow, who had boarded at Cherbourg in France. This fellow was fortunate enough to have been drafted as a rower on a lifeboat, and thus, survived to tell the tale."

Hannah said, "Wow. Do you think it was like the movie where Jack fell in love with Rose and died to make sure she was saved, so her heart could go on and she could have a grand-daughter who was gonna date the guy who raided the Titanic 80 years later, even though Rose threw the 'spensive necklace in the water and died and turned young again and went back with Jack on the ship with the other dead people?"

"Thanks for spoiling the movie for me, young lady," Christine said with mock sternness as she walked in. "I happen to be one of the last ten people on the planet who DIDN'T see that film! But guess what? My grandmother was ON the Titanic and was miraculously saved. Only HER name was 'Meghan'. And she never knew the real name of the fellow who saved her, far as I know. No great romance whatsoever, but I AM here, thanks to him."

All Hannah could say was "Wow" again. She looked up at Chris with fresh admiration, much as a little girl named Sarah Collins had gazed at her whimsical governess, either Phyllis Wicke with her romantic fancies and exotic, forbidden Papistry, or Victoria Winters with her stories of flying machines, cars, televisions, and refrigerators. Imagine, Hannah thought, a lady who was both a policewoman AND the grand-daughter of a Titanic survivor! Well, I can always be a policewoman, anyway, the child mused. I wonder how Mommy and Mrs. Johnson would feel about THAT?

Christine asked, "By the way, Elliot, just what Collins was this mysterious hero supposed to have been?"

"The original Quentin Collins," the boy answered. "I once asked OUR Quentin about his grandfather, but obviously the man drowned long before he was born, so they never knew each other. And all the papers that Quentin may have been carrying went down with the ship. Since he was using another name, old passenger lists are almost useless, except to rule out those famous rich people whose names were publicized at the time. The first Quentin, as you must have heard, had left the U.S.A. under a cloud. But he left a daughter behind with a foster mother named Fillmore, who would have been 15 or 16 in 1912. Some say he was coming back to visit her."

Christine did some quick figuring and said, "I know just who you mean. That was Lenore Fillmore Woodring, Amy's grandmother, who was around the right age. We saw her grave in the Jennings family plot. Well, it's a shame old Quentin never made it back for her." Old Quentin, indeed, she suddenly thought. Old Quentin. She conjured up the memory of the portrait of a man who looked like the Crypt-Keeper that seemed to mean a lot to THIS Quentin, who had carefully locked it in a closet in that maze-like West Wing. . .

Christine had another idea. Her grandmother had left her a small valise full of old items she had salvaged from her steerage compartment before she left it forever, and had managed to cling to even though the other lifeboat passengers, who feared the sinking of THEIR tiny vessel, had tried to make her throw overboard. Meghan wouldn't hear of it; all that was left of the worldly goods she required to make her start in America were inside. Without them, she'd either have been sent back to Ireland, away from her beloved Frank, or she'd have had to go out on the streets like a beggar woman, or, worse, a prostitute, to make the money she needed to survive. Frank WOULD have rejected her if THAT had happened!

Suddenly, Christine couldn't wait to get home to Manhattan, and plow through the contents of Grandma Meg's dusty old valise. She rushed through her goodbyes, though she hugged Elliot, Alice, and Hannah, all of whom pleaded for her to return soon.

She dashed down the hall, passing Barnabas's room, though she wouldn't have gone in there in any case.
However, his door was open, and he could see her trotting by, from his bed. "Christine," he whispered sadly. "Please, come back to me. I need you--- we need each other."

Christine knew that there was no railroad service from this part of Maine--- the old railroad had shut down in the mid-1960s, and was only now being re-established due to popular demand. Her best bet would be to get into Massachussetts, drop her rental car off, and take the train from there. Hopefully, if she could make the right connections, she could be home by midnight!

Then, she stopped suddenly--- there WAS someone else she'd wished to say good-bye to. She headed to the Ob-Gyn floor, and dropped into Pauline's room for a few minutes. "Just wanted to say au revoir for now," Christine said. "but I'll come back, the next time you and your cousin Hannah want to hear some crackling good stories of my most memorable busts, both with, and without Mary Beth!"

"Johnny Newman's been telling me some," Pauline said with a sly smile. "Funny how he knows so much about you two, though he must have become a cop, years AFTER you two left that 14th Precinct place."

"That's what we loved about Johnny," Christine said as normally as she could. "He really had an appreciation of 'ancient history'. Great memory, and what a knack for spinning a yarn. You'd think he was really THERE! Well, I wish you two the best for now."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Quentin now faced Barnabas. "I saw your lady friend scurry out of here like a mouse who's escaped from a trap."

"I don't think it's accurate to call her 'my' lady friend. The estrangement is permanent. She found the revelation of my true nature too extreme to inspire any future trust."

"Yet you could get your own son and his fiancee, his fiancee's mother, AND the Sheriff to accept your statements of hand-wringing remorse! You can even convince ME to let you off the hook for what you did to MY great-grand-daughter! Though, for once, my heart isn't exactly in it!"

Barnabas sighed. "I don't take ANYONE'S forbearance or forgiveness for granted, certainly not yours, Quentin. All my other victims are recovering fully from their vampiric injuries. Because Amy's victims suffered more serious earthly injuries, this is NOT true, and SHE is still in quite some trouble with the law. This is MY doing, though I must say I did NOT approve of the attacks on the police, or the manner in which she put Alice and Harvey into my way. . ."

Quentin replied irritably, "But she DID put PAULINE in your way! You wanted THAT! My God, Barnabas, I TRULY loved that girl, she was Amanda Harris all over again, literally! And our unborn son--- who knows if he would have been afflicted by the werewolf curse, or, if so, he couldn't have benefitted from modern medicine when the time came? Until then, he would have been just an innocent child. MY boy! I lost my OTHER children without really knowing them. YOU had your OWN son, and you denied me a chance to do right by MINE!"

"I'm sorry--- I tried to help Pauline in the end---"

Quentin snarled, "YES! When your other options dried up, and it suited YOU! Maybe THIS is why your magic failed with Our Miss Cagney, Barnabas. Somehow, it's STILL all about YOU!"

"I have offered to testify in Amy's behalf---"

"With every immunity the law can convey, not that you're going to tell the 'whole truth and nothing but', anyway!"

"What would you have me do, Quentin? Must I remind you of our former alliance of mutual protection, and its cost? Now, you are untouchable. YOUR last crime was over 100 years ago, and nobody would believe the circumstances if they were revealed now. Yet, if our situations were suddenly reversed, I would STILL protect you. Perhaps it's our Collins blood, perhaps it's the similarity of our plights--- cursed by two women, due to our wretched treatment of those women and all they held dear."

Quentin replied, more calmly, "Perhaps you ARE right, Barnabas. Amy may well be the culmination of both our curses. Perhaps what happened with her might have come to pass, in another form, but she definitely had that streak of madness within her. My wife Jenny was the same, trying to kill everyone she held responsible for my infidelities and neglect, mostly Collinses. Amy simply shifted HER obsession to the Sheriff's office."

Barnabas said quietly, "I never told you this before, Quentin, but I was partly to blame for your late wife's last burst of madness before. . . her death. I found her, cowering in my house, trying to escape the inhumane confinement your siblings subjected her to, even keeping her from her own sister! I TRIED to treat her kindly, got her cleaned up and dressed in some of Josette's clothes, though NOT because of my usual reason. Jenny was a lovely, sweet woman under all that insanity, and seemed to calm right down when someone treated her as such. Unfortunately, the sun was coming up, and I had to confine her once more to a locked room. Poor Magda and Sandor discovered her thus, and would have taken care of her, but she escaped. . . Made her way to my coffin room in the basement. . . Opened it. . . I wasn't able to respond but I was aware. She shrieked, and ran off, to a place where she probably thought she'd be
safe---"

"Beth's room!" Quentin picked up the thread. "Even though Beth and I had been lovers, she HAD taken excellent care of Jenny under the limits imposed by Judith and Edward, and felt great guilt during our times together. If Jenny had somehow recovered, I KNOW Beth would have given me up for her sake. Poor Jenny, seeing the truth about her husband and her only friend--- She tried to kill Beth, and I killed Jenny in a rage, with Beth frantically trying to stop me. . . And THIS led, 80 years later, to what happened to Chris and Amy. . . Not just Magda's curse, but---"

"How Chris Jennings came to be killed by Sheriff Patterson," Barnabas concluded. "It WAS Amy, wasn't it, Quentin? I remember how she accused all of us of 'selling her brother out'. Yet, that guilty knowledge of having told Patterson HERSELF, almost erased by Julia at your behest, was one of the first nuggets I prized from her subconscious when I bit her. And that irrational hatred towards law enforcement, akin to Jenny's hatred of your relatives, though Amy, herself, became quite a strict teacher, then principal, which is how we all got involved with the Laceys in the first place!"

"AND your Christine. Well, Barnabas, I'd say we were even AGAIN. Once more, we've both lost women we loved, and a descendant of mine is once more in jeopardy. Still, if your carefully-condensed testimony can help Amy in SOME way, I'd be grateful. That, and the fact that I have hired your former servant, my great-nephew Willie, from right under your nose, should make up for SOME of your trespasses. In return, I'll even do something for YOU. I COULD try to get your self-righteous former flame to come back. SHE owes ME for helping to get her out of a VERY sticky situation, namely, the quicksand behind Eagle Hill!" Quentin tried to laugh. "If you could have heard her cursing when that young Jonah and I finally fished her out, like a sailor at the Blue Whale---"

Barnabas protested, "Quentin, PLEASE--- do NOT refer to Christine---"

"I know, I know," his cousin replied. "Please do not refer to my girlfriend-slash-fiancee-slash-wife in such a disrespectful way." Quentin chuckled. "Oh, God, Barnabas, you know I like the woman--- not quite as much as YOU claim to, of course, but about as much as Willie and Jonah do. Something about her reminds me of Julia."

"How soon do you think you can talk to her?" Barnabas sat up with new eagerness.

"Well, Barnabas, don't you think we should allow Christine to go home without my being in hot pursuit, to relax in the comfort of her Manhattan abode, and to decide on her own, whether she wants to return to this garden of unearthly delights? I'd say, wait a week or so. After all, there's David's memorial service on Monday, and Amy's legal matters to tie up."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Carolyn had been relieved when, thanks to a generous offer from an excecutive from the main office at Collins Enterprises, Johann Holmstadt was taken to Ellsworth for dinner at a well-known lakeside restaurant. Now, she sat silently in a chair just down the hall from the foyer, awaiting her husband's return.

Tony quietly unlocked the great oaken doors and almost tip-toed in. He was going up the steps, when he felt a small hand on his shoulder--- he wheeled around to face his wife.

"Okay, Tony, where the HELL have you been all day?"

"Er, Carolyn, if you're going to give me a hard time, hadn't you better do it in the privacy of our rooms?"

"Why? THIS is my room, too. And what's the point of going off into our own little world, Tony? So you can weasel your way back into my good graces, and into my bed for one more night? To tide me over until the NEXT time you have to do the same thing? I want to have it out, right HERE, right NOW, where you won't be able to play those games. Less risk of catching some disease from your whores that way!"

"Carolyn, I don't understand---"

"Admit it, Tony! You've been seeing other women. I knew about ONE of them. . . Maggie----"

Tony's face fell at THAT. "Okay, Carolyn, it's true. . . But it's OVER."

"THAT must have been a recent development, I'll bet! My private investigator--- David hired him when HE suspected you, and now he reports to ME--- said the last time YOU TWO were shacked up was LAST WEEK! However, I think MRS. SHAW is probably shedding crocodile tears RIGHT NOW over your OTHER affair."

"Carolyn, there IS no other affair! I've been heavily involved in meetings regarding the corporation in the aftermath of David's passing."

"Oh, no doubt. Because Mr. Jason McGuire, Junior, has just revealed your involvement in an insider trading scheme you cooked up to sell off WAY too many shares of Collins Enterprises to Timothy Adam Samwell, pulling a big rug out from under my poor cousin! Only it WASN'T a direct sale to Adam, JASON was controlling those shares. When Adam found out about it, he felt compunction to return the shares in the only way he could, in the most honorable way possible. However, Jason tried to thwart Adam's plans to fire him and make amends, and KILLED him. So, while YOU didn't actually murder Adam, you ARE partly to blame. And your reward, beside the profits from those sales?"

"Nothing, I SWEAR!"

"Nothing, my ASS! Marisol, why don't YOU enlighten Mr. Peterson, since he seems to have forgotten where he WAS, just a half hour ago?"

Marisol appeared from the drawing room. "Senor Peterson, I AM sorry, but the truth must be told. You
were with one Senorita Catherine Trask! I've overheard you talking with her in the past, when you were foolish enough to use the phone in the servants' area!"

"So WHAT? She's a senior financial analyst in the Samwell organization."

"Yes, Tony," Carolyn taunted. "A 29-year-old senior ANALYST. HARDLY a senior CITIZEN!
Beautiful--- I've seen pictures--- and, no doubt, intelligent, and GREEDY. like her relatives before
her--- the same damned family of Trasks who've plagued OUR family for over 200 years! Somehow she got mixed up with that Jason when he first went to work for Adam, and they both decided to get even with the Collinses. However, the SEC can't seem to pin anything on HER. But I CAN get rid of YOU, and try to help clean up the mess in our family business. Thank God, Adam chose his heirs well. They have the integrity YOU lack."

Tony was beyond denial, but he still had one lonely weapon. "I'm the father of your only child, who also happens to be ONE of those heirs! If you have me arrested, how do you think Pauline will feel?"

Carolyn WAS moved by this plea. "I--I can't protect you if the government decides to investigate you. But, aside from requesting a divorce, and denying any claim you might make against the Collins fortune, I won't set the hounds on you, for our daughter's sake. I loved you once, God help me. Not the greatest, most passionate love, but you were my rock for so many years. I remember the good times, Tony, but THIS is TOO much. And Pauline will not hear from ME, how you betrayed us. That's something YOU will have to tell her, and soon, whether you like it or not. It will be up to HER how she feels about you after that, but she's been a very forgiving soul lately. Quentin, Amy, Barnabas, everybody. Remember when she was born, and they thought that if she survived, she would be retarded? 'A SPECIAL child, Mrs. Peterson, that's what we call them now,' the doctors and social workers said. They were right, though not in the way THEY meant."

Tony said, resignedly, "I guess this means I'd better go up and pack."

Carolyn replied, "Take your time--- I'm getting enough satisfaction knowing you'll be out of here by tonight."

"I wonder what Elizabeth would have thought?"

"You should thank God that I'm NOT like my mother. When confronted with a similar problem involving MY father, HE got a whack with a poker, and was exiled from here for 20 years, WITHOUT his luggage. I should thank God I'M not like my mother, either. You think I'D do something that would cause ME to live the rest of MY life cloistered in this mausoleum? Or to damage my daughter as I was damaged?"

She thought, what wonderful luck that her daughter wouldn't even have to go through more trouble with the men in her life--- unlike Carolyn's early years, a good man wouldn't be supplanted by a bad man in Pauline's case; quite the opposite! Carolyn had, long ago, shed decent Joe Haskell for devious Burke Devlin, possibly shredding her judgment about future relationships in the process, including her marriage with Tony.

On the other hand, Pauline already appeared to be getting over the disastrous affair with Quentin, and was being courted at the hospital by that charming, kind Jewish police friend of Christine's and Mary Beth's. Now, if only that girl would STICK with Jonah Newman! Carolyn sighed, already dreaming of lavish Bar and Bat Mitzvahs for her future grandchildren, though Pauline and Jonah hadn't even had a DATE yet.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Michael Lacey had just gotten off the phone. He went into his parents' bedroom, and sat at the foot of their bed. "Mom, I'm sorry to have to desert you and Dad and Alice like this so soon after Aunt Christine's leaving, but I'm going home tomorrow. I want to be on hand, bright and early on Monday, when Iris goes to the doctor. She says she feels worse, she's throwing up a lot."

Mary Beth was propped up on her pillows, once more snug in her heavy robe. "Now, Michael, maybe it's not as bad as you think. I seem to recall throwing up QUITE a bit just around the time I found out I was expecting every one of you kids." She winked at her son.

Michael winked back, and smiled. "I HOPE that's all it is--- it seems the pregnancy tests Iris's mother bought are still coming out 'negative.'. We weren't planning on starting a family this soon, but now that there's going to be a little financial assistance coming our way, maybe we can have our baby and eat it--- I mean, our CAKE and eat it, too. We can get a good babysitter so Iris can finish her degree, we can even take trips with the baby in a sidecar---"

Mary Beth frowned. "Oh, no, Boy, you are NOT going to take MY grandchild on a motorcycle! When he or she's an adult, that will be their choice, and maybe I won't be around to see it anyway. But in the meantime, Michael, I'm going to INSIST you and Iris get an SUV, top of the line, all the options, all the safety features, a real gas-guzzler! We can afford it now. We can get one for Harvey Junior, too, if he and Krystal ever get around to family matters."

Michael shrugged in feigned resignation. "You're still the Sheriff around these here parts, Mom. Anyway, I will be rising with the chickens for the long ride home, so this has to be good-bye for now." He kissed his mother on the cheek. "Tell Dad and Alice we'll be back up here soon--- Myself and Iris, at least."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

PART TWENTY-ONE--- SUNDAY, APRIL 23, 2000

Christine had been so exhausted by the complexities of making several train connections, that she fell asleep just an hour after she arrived back in her apartment, not long after she'd dug her grandmother's valise out of the closet, and rifled the contents until she found what she sought. As it was, she woke up around 9:00 A.M., and she wouldn't even have done THAT, save that the phone was ringing. Something told her not to wait until the answering machine picked up the call.

She cradled the phone in a comfortable hollow that had formed between her ear and her pillow. "H'lo," she muttered. "This isn't Geoff, is it?" Geoffrey Coombs was the new D.A., the one Mary Beth had "ditched" Chris with to come to Collinsport, the one who insisted that she take vacations when nobody else in the U.S.A. would have. This is all YOUR fault, Geoff, Christine thought sleepily.

"WHAT'S my fault?" The voice wasn't Coombs's mellow bass with the slight Jamaican accent.

Christine suddenly sat up, clutching the phone, thanking her lucky stars it WASN'T Geoff, though the panicky note in Mary Beth's already-shrill voice was nothing to be thankful for, either. Trouble again, so soon! "Mary Beth! My God, what's the matter? Is it Harvey---"

"NO! Harvey doesn't even know about this yet. It's IRIS--- Mike's wife. He was just getting ready to leave us this morning, when Aida Ramirez called--- you know, Iris's mother? Iris was rushed to the hospital about 7 A.M.--- her GALL BLADDER ruptured! THAT'S why she was feeling sick, it was just building up. WE thought maybe she was pregnant. But now she's in surgery---"

"What about Mike?" Christine's favorite Lacey son--- poor boy---

"He was frantic--- he can't exactly BLINK himself down to Columbia Medical Center. I was so desperate, I called Carolyn and Hallie. They put a company plane at Mike's disposal, and Quentin Collins made himself available to go along, to look after Mike and to see that he got to Columbia, pronto. They should be there soon, barring disaster! I'd have gone myself, but they'll need me to break any news to Harvey and Alice, good or bad---" Mary Beth sobbed.

"Say no more, partner, I'm headed there RIGHT NOW. Which building is Iris in?" Christine stumbled about, pulling on her clothes, as Mary Beth explained which of the maze of medical center buildings and surgical pavilions housed her ill daughter-in-law. As she ran out the door, Christine glanced back at the mess surrounding the old suitcase. Please God, let Iris recover, she prayed, but what a strange coincidence that the catastrophe had brought Quentin down to Manhattan so soon, just HOURS after she'd made her discovery!

Christine found the correct area, and she recognized Aida Ramirez at once. She hugged the tiny, dark-haired, grief-wracked figure, though at first Aida didn't seem to recognize her through her tear-filled eyes, and pulled away. Then she wept, "Christina!" and held onto the larger, blonde woman.

"Senora Ramirez," Christine said kindly but firmly, "Has there been any news?"

"A doctor came to tell me that Iris also had a swollen appendix, and they were going to take that out, too. It has been over 2 hours! Do you know when Miguel will be here? He is so far away, and only had that little motorcycle!"

"His mom said their cousins were loaning him an airplane. Mary Beth couldn't come, she has her husband and daughter still in the hospital, but a Mr. Collins will be bringing Mike here any--- THERE THEY ARE!" Christine pointed to where Quentin, his arm draped reassuringly around the unhappy young husband's shoulders, was stepping with Mike from a nearby elevator. She and Aida ran to clutch the younger man in a fierce group hug.

Quentin stood back, a serious expression on his face for once. He had been overwhelmed by the way Mike had spoken about his wife during the plane ride, almost a eulogy, broken with sobs and sniffles. He had studied the pictures the younger man had in his wallet. If not for the desperate situation, Quentin would have found himself ENVYING the young couple's devotion. As it was, he thought, maybe I've been SPARED something? Then his mind would return to all that he had lost, or thrown aside, his wife, his lovers, and most of all, his children--- including the young, innocent Amy he had once known--- and decided that THESE people, even in the face of possible tragedy, even though their lives were destined to be much shorter than his, WERE more fortunate than he had ever been.

The group huddled in a set of plastic-cushioned chairs and sofas similar to those at the Collinsport Hospital. Quentin, who had watched the clock every day of his long existence, wondering when it would ever end, now watched it, without any thought for himself, but for the sick girl he had never met. Her mother said it's been over 4 hours, he thought, as the hands touched the 12. That CAN'T be good, can it? How long does such an operation TAKE, anyway? He suddenly wished that Conrad Lang, with his brassy but always-justified confidence, was on hand to take charge of the surgery. Then, he heard Mike say much the same thing. If only there was something I could do for them all, Quentin mused, besides WAIT!

It was 1:30 when the head surgeon finally emerged. The group stood instantly at his approach, when he announced, without Lang's fanfare, "The surgery has been successful. The rupture caused a great deal of trouble, even sending fragments of gallstone into the liver, but we got everything cleaned out. . . The appendix, for some reason, was also enflamed--- one doesn't usually see BOTH organs afflicted at the same time--- so it's gone too. Mrs. Lacey experienced some distress on the operating table, but she's quite strong, and survived it. She's in the recovery room, and as of now, the prognosis is good."

Michael was almost incoherent in his gratitude. "When can I see her, when can I see her?" he babbled. His mother-in-law clung to his arm, nodding eagerly. Told that it would be at least 2 hours, the family moved on to the cafeteria for a guarded celebration. Christine whipped out her cell phone, and called Mary Beth immediately. There was no answer at the Lacey home, so Christine tried Harvey's hospital room phone number. Foturnately, the call went through, and it was good to hear the jubilation of both the in-laws at the other end. Christine handed the phone to Michael and Aida, who chattered simultaneously to Mary Beth and Harvey.

Christine and Quentin sat quietly together, watching the happy scene. Christine turned to her companion, and studied him. Her face resumed the look of concern she had formerly worn for Iris.
She exclaimed, "My God, Quentin, you look as if you've aged 10 years!"

Quentin stroked his chin, and felt a few wrinkles he KNEW weren't there before. "Really? I'd think one might be saying that about the young lady's mother or even her husband. THEY know and love her best, they're most worried about her."

"You're right, I guess, but--- hey, for a while there, I think we were ALL making deals with God or whatever higher power, just like we did for Harvey and Alice. YOU look like God just collected on YOUR pledge." Then Christine said, "When Mike and Aida get to see Iris, and we know she's really on the mend, I'd lie you to stop by my place for a while, later--- we can order some dinner, whatever---"

"While I would be entirely flattered, Christine, I think we're both too freshly estranged from our previous lovers to venture so soon into anything of that nature." NOW, Quentin grinned mischievously.

Christine hesitantly smiled back. "You rascal! As if 'so soon' had any meaning for you--- but thanks for being flattered. Now I'M flattered as well! But this ISN'T a proposition. The truth is, I found something in my late grandmother's belongings that would really interest you."

"Do tell! Well, thanks for coming up with a good excuse for our spending time together, because there's something I really DO need to talk to YOU about."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Quentin extravagantly admired Christine's large apartment, her comfortable but expensive-looking furniture, her curious collections of antique artifacts and modern kitsch. "You're paid that well for what you do?" he asked frankly.

"Well, better than during my police days, though if I had loved the simple life, it would have been more than enough. I do quite well now as a bureaucrat, but I've always had the Olmstead trust fund to fall back on."

"And now, a piece of the Samwell legacy. Christine, you ARE the most fortunate police officer of EITHER gender that ever walked the face of the earth."

"I haven't always FELT lucky. I lost a lot of friends and all of my illusions over the years since I impetuously decided to follow in my father's footsteps. And, certainly the fact that my love life has been, well, TUMULTUOUS, isn't a good sign. Aside from my nieces, I won't have anyone of my very own to leave anything to. My niece Bridget, especially--- she's a show business attorney now, soccer-mom to 2 tow-headed Cagnettes as I call them, living in a brand-spanking-new house in Long Beach--- she'd think NOTHING of tossing ANY of this stuff into a dumpster."

"Even THIS?" Quentin pointed to a large, irregular cube of lumpy, twisted, yellow metal, with a headlight impossibly stuck into it, even MORE impossibly, blinking on and off. "What the Hell IS it?"

Christine laughed. "My old canary-yellow Corvette. It had a terminal disease, so I had it 'Kevorked'. Compacted. But I had them insert a battery to make the light work. It's a great conversation piece. The men I've brought home in the past LOVED it. It brought together their most cherished fantasies. Sex and cars, both blonde."

"I think it's fantastic, even though WE'RE not going to--- errr. . . That's not why you brought me here, I KNOW." Quentin blushed, a strange sensation for him. "And I had a completely unselfish reason to see you as well."

"Yes, how strange that the two most over-sexed people we know, are in the same room together with NO intention of HAVING sex!" Christine darted into her room, and brought forth the old valise. "This will absolutely FASCINATE you, far more than my withering charms."

"Nice old suitcase, excellent leatherwork, though a bit dry and cracked in spots," Quentin observed. The suitcase was as old as his own. "Are you thinking of SELLING it?"

"No, no, no. It's what's inside that counts, though it was kind of you to compliment what my grandmother slaved and saved for MONTHS to buy. She didn't want just an old carpetbag for HER journey to America."

"Your grandmother sounds like she was quite a feisty girl. Probably a LOT like yourself, Christine."

"Maybe, Quentin. She HAD to be, to survive the Titanic sinking."

A shadow crossed Quentin's handsome, aging face. "Ah, I understand. She would have been a steerage girl, I take it--- one of those who had a hard time getting to the lifeboats because her name wasn't in the Social Register. What a distinction to make at such a time!"

"Maybe it was unintentional, but it happened, all right. My grandmother and her cabin-mates were actually STOPPED by a very stern ship's mate. To do him justice, he was probably terrified, and, no doubt, knew HE was a goner because of his sex AND his position. But the rule WAS supposed to be, 'women and children first'. One of the girls had a little boy whom she was bringing to join her husband in New York, and my grandmother, Meghan McCaffrey that was, was watching over them. They argued and wept and my grandmother even SLAPPED the crewman, but he remained obdurate. Misery loves company, especially misery that's about to drown for a very stupid reason!"

"Then, of course, someone stepped in and saved the day!"

"Obviously. Not only my grandmother, but the woman with her son, and 3 other helpless young Irish colleens. A tall, handsome stranger intervened, and literally shoved the man out of the passageway. He conveyed the ladies to a lifeboat that was already overcrowded--- THAT was strange, how some of the biggest boats were half-empty, while the smaller ones were so full they feared getting swamped. However, room was made for everyone, including Meghan with her fine new suitcase. Meghan didn't just have the suitcase, though. The man had given her something of his own to keep, only Meg's little grand-daughter didn't realize what it was until now."

Christine opened the valise, and pulled out a large, elaborately-embroidered wallet. Upon seeing it, Quentin began to shake involuntarily. "You see the workmanship that went into it," Christine said. "But it wasn't from a fine haberdashery, it had been made by the man's DAUGHTER. And it contained a picture of the daughter, though when she was little, Meg's grand-daughter thought it was an early picture of MEG." She proferred the wallet to Quentin, who took it without thinking.

He opened it, and saw the small rotogravure inside. The picture, faded to reddish-brown, was of a beautiful young girl of about 16, in a simple but stylish dress, and with rich, dark, sausage-curled hair tumbling over her shoulders. "Lenore," he whispered, then stared at Christine, in shock that he'd revealed that much of his secret.

"Lenore FILLMORE. Born Lenore COLLINS. Daughter of one QUENTIN COLLINS. She was born in 1896, which made her 3 years younger than my grandmother," Christine said. "Now, as I said, I used to think THIS was my grandmother, but the dress and hairstyle, as you can see, were very expensive-looking. As was the wallet itself. But Grandma explained before she died. The man, she said, had given it to her, in hopes that it would somehow find its way back to his daughter, who had made it for him, and whom he had been coming back to visit after many years' absence. But the name on the ticket and passport inside was 'Charles Quincy', supposedly from Cherbourg. When lists of Titanic's passengers were published, there WAS a Charles Quincy, but when Grandma and the White Star Line office wired back to France, they found a Mr. RAOUL Quincy, still in Cherbourg, and feeling VERY fortunate to have sold his ticket to a desperate stranger. The man must have altered the papers. So Meg could not track down his daughter. She kept the wallet, and also, the 650 dollars inside, which she divided among her other friends whom the handsome stranger had saved."

"653 dollars and 17 cents, to be exact," Quentin said. "I didn't care about the money, though it was quite a lot, back then--- I wanted those poor girls to have it, especially the bravest one, who so resembled my daughter. She, above all, deserved some 'lace curtains'! But I'd hoped that Lenore would get the wallet back in her lifetime. You see, I didn't expect to survive, at least not like the others. I KNEW that, as a gentleman, I would have to go down with the ship. But I also knew I WOULDN'T die, at least, not exactly like the other gentlemen. I was lucky in a way--- I TRIED to drown like a good gentleman, or at least, hoped to freeze to death in the water like so many others--- but I stayed quite warm, and couldn't sink, even without a life-jacket! When a second, smaller ship arrived on the scene, I swam toward it, rather than the Carpathia, which rescued most of the passengers, including your grandmother. I had realized the folly of returning to Collinwood and my Lenore--- I was supposed to be 42 years old, and DROWNED, not 27 and a survivor. Imagine the suspicions of treachery that would have swirled around my head, possibly injuring my child's chances for a decent life!"

"All because of THAT PORTRAIT!"

"Yes, you know all about my secret now. But then, you know about BARNABAS, so this CAN'T have come as a MAJOR surprise! That portrait has kept me alive and reasonably well since it was first painted in 1897, when I was 27 years old. However, also thanks to that portrait, I have been an extremely lonely man, until I came back here 30 years ago. How could I explain to anyone why I stayed so young, while even my own DAUGHTER had grown old and died? So I assumed another false name, until I revealed that I was my own grandson, and eventually had plastic surgery to get OLD."

"How did the painting come to exist?"

"An extremely evil and perverse man, a Count Andreas Petofi, commissioned it from one of his many protegees, to whom he had given the power to paint anything, and it would become real. However, for once, he was moved somewhat by pity, though later, his true motives became crystal clear. You see, this Petofi was deathly afraid of Gypsies--- they had cut off his hand, which possessed a peculiar, isolated power, and kept it from him, until a series of blunders gave it back to him. He was STILL in danger from them, and soon sought to exchange our bodies, as he'd discovered that I would be alive in 1969. Of course, with a painting like that around, it was bound to happen, since it also conferred near-immortality. But, after we had switched bodies, I regained mine. He, however, was finally destroyed--- at least, he SEEMED to be, by a spirit even MORE malevolent and vengeful than himself! While the young painter had lost the power to make magic portraits, the spell had never been lifted from MY picture, nor that of a young woman the painter had created, whom I loved dearly and lost."

Christine recalled something Quentin had told her once. "Let me guess--- THIS is the 'special medicine' that keeps YOU from suffering the same disease as the late Christopher Jennnings?"

"Exactly. In fact, Chris once sought out the old man who had painted MY picture, but, like I said, the magic was gone, and Chris ended up killing the poor old fool during one of his attacks. MY disease, as you call it, was actually a CURSE--- over 100 years ago, I strangled my hapless, insane wife when SHE tried to kill someone I cared for. HER sister, a Gypsy, cursed me and my male descendants. WHY she chose this curse, I'll never understand. It was foolish and cruel to make others suffer with me, including my own children by Jenny. Magda, that was the Gypsy, soon realized this, but couldn't get her own curse off me, like Angelique, who, initially, was unable to remove Barnabas's curse. The portrait had no effect on my descendants, either. A couple of female generations went by before the curse caused harm again. This is why Amy was so resentful, and also explains where her own insanity came from."

"She tried to hack up the picture, didn't she? With that squiggly knife!"

"She damn near succeeded, which was why I was shrieking like a banshee! If it wasn't for the spirit of my brother, Carl, whom I had conspired to murder in 1897---"

Christine said, "I know, now, whom you conspired WITH. Barnabas." At this, she turned from Quentin, and hid her face in her hands. "God, I could use a drink RIGHT NOW!"

"Well, then, why don't you have any liquor here? I could use a snifter-full of brandy myself, after everything that's happened, not just today, but the last fortnight!"

Christine replied, shame-facedly, "I can't have any alcohol--- now or ever. I've been a recovering alcoholic for over 15 years. I have lapses now and then. God knows, police work provided enough provocation, then my father's death--- he was one, also--- then my divorce, and this past 'fortnight', as you so elegantly put it. The last incident was over a week ago, actually, but even through the worst times, in the last couple of days, I held off . . . Don't mind me, when I start whining for whiskey, it's just a reflex action."

Quentin said, with true admiration, "Then you are a FAR stronger person than myself, my dear. I almost WISH you were the kind of woman for me. Perhaps in our next lives, you WILL be."

Christine quipped, "With that portrait around, it may take CENTURIES."

"Well, that's the part I was getting to," Quentin said. "To save my unworthy life, Carl was able to fix the picture, and, what's more, put it in REVERSE. When that portrait once again looks like an extremely handsome young devil, if I DO say so myself, I will fall deep into deep dotage, and shuffle off this mortal coil like any of you ordinary folks. I think I paid in advance this afternoon. Perhaps you've heard of Mr. Best? Jonah must surely have told you."

"Yes, he's the life and death broker of the Ether, apparently. Are you saying that he collected some of YOUR borrowed time, and gave it to Iris?"

"Maybe. Though I certainly hope that she received more than a few years! But that's my new
existence--- every time I have a decent thought, or do something that benefits another, I come closer and closer to normal. I shouldn't like to PUSH it, though--- I've had a long life, and much of it hasn't been SO bad, and now that I AM becoming what I HOPE is a better man, I'd like to have the time and the health to enjoy the effects. AND the people I help, as well! Jonah gave me a clue, when we got you out of the quicksand. He said that the LAST time I put myself at risk for others, I wasn't in real danger--- maybe he meant what I did on the Titanic. But he hinted that sinking in the mud WOULD have been permanent, if Best had decreed. He must play a part in this redemption business, though his personal attitude is inscrutable."

Christine asked, "I wonder what he must think of Barnabas, cheating death at every turn? And veering in and out of HIS curse?"

Quentin held her gently by her shoulders. "I wonder less about Best's opinion, and worry about YOURS. Christine, even though I admit to an attraction to you, we BOTH know where your heart REALLY lies. And Barnabas's. I won't even TRY to come on to you, because, over 100 years ago, Barnabas did a terrible thing that saved both of our lives, though not out of any great affection for ME, at least, not until much later. He had to go back to my time, to save me from being killed--- either by a jealous woman, or walled up in a room by my embarrassed siblings, or BOTH--- so that my GHOST wouldn't return to the 1960's, to drive everyone from Collinwood, but most of all, to kill DAVID, who, at the time, resembled my beloved nephew who had rejected me. Jamison, who was Roger and Elizabeth's father! It soon became clear that mine and Barnabas's existences would forever be linked to each other. So, in a manner of speaking, I owe HIM one, and he owes ME one, for the rest of our days. He loves YOU, so I can't take you from him, even if I knew I could!"

Christine cried, "He doesn't love anyone, he loves what someone may REPRESENT! He thought he loved Maggie, even kidnapped her and tried to brainwash her, because she represented Josette to him! Alice, no doubt, must ALSO have stood in for Josette, or some other unattainable woman he fancied during those 200 years! Maybe he loves ME because I represent JULIA to him! I'm NOT Julia! I CAN'T imagine MYSELF doing the grotesque things she did for him! And, trust me, I would NEVER have borne him a child if I was young enough--- I would have worried every single day about the consequences! I CAN'T forget what I saw in the tunnel, no matter what Harvey said, what YOU say, what Allarice said! I'm NOT stuck like Vicki Shaw, who pretty much HAS to marry Jeremy, who almost turned her into the same ABOMINATION, as Barnabas almost did to Alice! Vicki's going to have the vampire's grandchild! Mary Beth might be willing to put aside some of her reservations about Barnabas's renewed integrity--- she's really getting sucked into the Collinsport way of life! But I CAN'T!!!"

At this, she flung herself at Quentin, nearly pushing him over, and wrapped her arms around him. She kissed him desperately, and he responded--- for a minute. Then, he pushed her away. "Christine. . . I have committed murder--- over 100 years ago, but they were still wrongful deaths of innocents, for which I never served any time in prison. How is THAT any different than what Barnabas has done? We were, both, NO more in control of our actions. . . We behaved as animals mindlessly bent on survival, yet when we were free of our curses, we killed no-one, tried to live quiet lives. . . We weren't PERFECT, obviously, but we wanted to be like everyone else. We wanted to love and be loved. Barnabas was the luckier one--- nobody objected when he married Julia, as there would have been protests if I had wed Pauline. Nobody would protest if you married Barnabas now---"

Christine countered, "Geoffrey Coombs, the D.A., my BOSS, certainly would! Barnabas isn't completely free and clear, not yet, maybe never. . . I've put over 30 years of my life, the one and ONLY life I have ever known--- into this career. Not just because I've ever been one of those 'butchy wimmen's libbers' who wanted to prove I was 'good as a man'--- I BELIEVED in what I did, even when the lines between the law and the unlawful were blurred. In less than 3 years, I WILL be retiring--- maybe to Mary Beth's place in Maine for the summer, and to my brother's hacienda in California during the winter--- I don't really know. But until then, any relationship with a man who has a distinct cloud over his head is no longer acceptable. When I was younger, I could do that, and survive, even when the hammer fell. Now? You may think the easy life lived on trust funds and legacies should be enough for ANYONE, but I want to finish what I started. My conscience, and my father's memory--- hell, the memory of BOTH my parents--- have to be honored, at least until then."

Quentin became angry. "And what if Barnabas DIES, waiting for that 'great come-and-get-it-day'? He's just a MAN now, a man in his 70's, who has had a great health trauma, and is full of remorse, and longing for you! How will THAT stand on your conscience? How will THAT honor your parents?"

Christine replied with dignity, "I will grieve for him the rest of my life, as I grieve for my parents. He WAS my one true love. But it has nothing to do with the way I have to live my life in the real world."

"I live in the same world, Christine. I've lived in it for 130 years. It's a world with an infinite number of facets. Here we are, having a civilized conversation. Yet, right down the hall, a man may be beating his wife to death, or molesting his child. . . or a drug deal may be going down. . . or a suicide. . . Or, maybe, something WONDERFUL is happening at this moment! A cancer victim getting a cure, an unemployed person winning the lottery, an atheist getting converted. . . Or a man who has survived centuries of trouble and sorrow, who is nearing the end of his travails, and wants to share the best of his last days with one of the greatest women he has ever known. Only HE lives in the slightly distorted facet of this same big world, called Collinsport."

"Are you speaking for Barnabas, or for yourself, Quentin? Or, maybe, ROGER?"

" PLEASE don't be flip, Christine. I promised Barnabas I'd try to talk you into coming back, perhaps not now, but in the near future, and giving him another chance. He needs you. Okay, well, that argument probably won't fly with an independent sort like yourself. But if you can think of something you need from HIM, that you can't get from another man, anywhere else, not even from ME---"

"I need TIME! I need to know that MY world isn't going to rock, that certain truths I have always held as self-evident ARE true. . . I PROMISE I'll give Barnabas an answer, but there are answers I need for myself. I can't talk about them right now. Can we call a truce for now? I'm awfully hungry, and in dire need of decent coffee. Let's get out of here--- we can argue about which restaurant we like best on the way out. Leave the wallet, I promise we'll come back for it. I wouldn't want you to lose it AGAIN, for ANOTHER 90 years!"

On the way back from dinner, Christine and Quentin were much friendlier. As she handed him the beautiful wallet with the beautiful picture inside, Christine said, "I forgot to mention, but maybe you've guessed by now. My grandmother was so grateful, that she vowed to name her firstborn son after you, in fact ALL her friends wanted to name a child after you. Since the name you left her with was 'Charles', that was it--- my grandfather Frank balked at 'Quincy', though, so my dad was 'Charles Francis Xavier Cagney.' Two of the others did it--- their firstborn boys were 'Charles.' The lady who already had a son couldn't change HIS name, of course, but waited through 5 more pregnancies for her chance--- they were all girls, so she gave up and named the 5th girl 'Charlotte.' As for the last survivor--- when she was 30, and hadn't married, she became a nun, but she took the name 'Sister Marie Charles'!"

Quentin laughed heartily. "Charles was my father's name, but had my brother christened 'Carl' so he wouldn't be called 'Junior', which Papa loathed. Since my own son was named after me without my knowledge, and soon died, and Pauline decided to name the child she miscarried after HER father, I wish I could thank all those women for using the name I would have chosen for MY boys!"
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Christine placed a long-distance call to her brother's home in California. Her nerves were on edge because of the request she was going to make, and her palms perspired while she held the receiver, waiting for an answer to her insistent rings. Funny, she thought, Brian's answering machine SHOULD have picked up the call on the fifth or sixth ring, as usual. Or that Anne, her sister-in-law, would have taken the call. As it was, the phone had rung so many times, she began to wonder if she'd punched in the correct number. Memory's going--- NOT Alzheimers, or whatever else ailed aging alcoholics, Christine prayed.

She hung up, and tried again, this time, reading the number directly from her trusty old Rolodex. Again, the perplexing plethora of signals--- but THIS time, there WAS an answer---"Just the man I wanted to talk to!" Christine shouted with relief. "What the Hell's going on out there? I rang and rang---"

"Damn new dog!" Brian Cagney shouted back at his younger sister. "Annie's been wanting a Shar Pei for a while, and last anniversary, I finally caved in and got one from the top breeder in the L.A. area. The little hairball IS cute as he WAS expensive, but with all the telephone cords and answering machine cords and light cords he's chewed up, he's ended up costing us his purchase price all over again! I heard those dogs were used to guard Temples in China. Good thing they didn't have wires and cords in those places back then!" As if in reproof to his exasperation, there was a cacaphony of sharp, cranky barks in the background. "Anyway, I was in the SHOWER--- Annie's gone out to visit Bridgie--- and the maid just left for the day. I ignored the first barrage, but when it started up again, I figured SOMETHING urgent must be up with YOU, kiddo. Now, what's SO important that I have to stand here, dripping away, with just a towel on?"

"Um, maybe this is something you should be DRESSED for, out of respect, Bri," Christine said quietly, though she was bursting from with-held nervous laughter at the mental picture of his plight.

"Respect? What--- Oh my God. Someone died, right? One of the Cagneys, or did Old Cousin Estelle
Olmstead finally go to that big debutante cotillion in the Sky? Or, God forbid--- One of your friends from the Old 14th? It isn't MARY BETH, is it, up in that backwater in Maine you told me about?"

Brian's tone made Christine think that HE felt she would be ORPHANED without the sensible Mary Beth to watch out for her! "No, no, NO! Brian, I just got back from visiting up there, and while there's been a huge crapload of trouble with the Lacey family, ALL of them have survived, and are accounted for. So is Cousin Estelle, as far as I know. Look, take your time, dress, settle down--- this will be as hard for me to explain as if I was breaking the news of a death. . . I can call back---"

"No, little sister, just wait a minute till I get some trousers on. God forbid Graziella should suddenly return, to find me in this condition."

Christine refrained from making the comment she WOULD have, in better circumstances, about the maid's possible reaction. Brian had called her "little sister", which he NEVER did except when he was worried about her.

In a minute, Brian was back on the phone, and Christine haltingly explained as best she could, without too much supernatural mumbo-jumbo, OR revealing the depth of her misery, about her time in Maine ("The vacation from Hell, rather, IN Hell!"), the attacks on the girls ("Something we haven't had around THESE parts in a while, but Collinsport does things the old-fashioned way!") , a censored account about Barnabas and Amy ("Very superstitious, suggestible people up there, and I nearly MARRIED one!"), the family connections with the Collinses and Willie ("I had a nightmare about the 'Small World' exhibit at the old World's Fair, and all those horrid singing dolls looked like Collinses!") , the latest low-down on the now-recovering Lacey clan ("They're going to make the Guinness Book of Records as the family who suffered and survived the most devastating illnesses in the shortest amount of time!"), Samwell's fortune ("Like winning the Powerball Lottery at a funeral!"), and then . . .

"WHO told you that BULLSHIT!" Brian, as Christine had feared, wasn't taking the news of his sister's doubtful paternity well.

"Jason McGuire's SON. He was old enough to remember what his father had told him! Willie, who'd been OLD Jason's friend before he went to Collinsport, confirmed it! But the fact IS, I remembered Jason MYSELF---- the dinner party Mom had for Elizabeth Collins, the meeting with our cousin Paul Stoddard, and how Stoddard brought Dad's good old Cousin Jason to see his FAVORITE cousin-in-law! I clearly remember how upset Mom and Dad were, how YOU tried to hide me from Jason's insinuating stare---"

There was a long sigh at the other end of the line. "Yes, Chris, it happened EXACTLY as you described. I was 10 years old, and already, I had a guilty little secret of almost 5 years' standing. The secret was that I came home from kindergarten, I'd say about 6 months before you were born, and caught Jason kissing our mother in the upper hallway. I remembered him from an earlier visit, a couple of months before. His clothes were on askew--- I noticed his buttons were uneven--- and Mother was wearing a satin robe--- I don't know if she had anything on underneath--- I just assumed that, like so many of the other mothers, after they packed THEIR kids off for the day, she hung around in her P.J.'s until just before the husband's return home.

"They had apparently forgotten that I was due home at that hour. It wasn't a friendly kiss, nor the kind I'd seen Dad give Mom. She seemed TRAPPED in that kiss, her arms limp at her sides. No hugging or tenderness. Then I came running up the steps, and they broke off immediately. Jason smirked at me, but instead of hurrying out, took his sweet time, like he was PROUD of kissing a married lady that way. Mom made me promise not to tell Dad, said that Jason had been bothering her, asking for money, and she was finally shed of 'that nuisance'! I remember THAT phrase, clear as a bell. Like a good boy, I agreed that Dad shouldn't be told anything that might make him upset, because when he got too upset, he would drink and get pushy--- Sorry, Chris, but that's how he was to me, and to YOU, too, once in a while. God knows how much MORE pushy he would have been to you, if I HADN'T keep quiet!"

Christine reported sadly, "He found out about it later. It DID color his attitude toward me somewhat."

Brian continued, "Well, at age 5, I wasn't up on the birds and the bees, so when, a few months later, it became obvious Mom was going to have another baby, I just assumed it was Dad's, and so did he. Mom WAS more anxious at that time than she had ever been, and never left off being anxious until years after she and Dad broke up. Then you were born, and you'd have thought Dad discovered America--- look, I KNOW he loved me in his own way, and I was the son who was going to carry the family name and so forth, but I was also too 'Olmstead' for him. He doted on YOU from the minute he first saw you."

"I have news for you, brother, I'M more 'Olmstead' than YOU. I've lately discovered that I have two distant cousins on Mother's side whom I resemble FAR more than ANY of the Cagneys!"

Brian snapped, "Yes, but only after you discovered 'Miss Clairol Sunlit Blonde'! Until THEN, you were as Dark Irish as---"

"My FATHER. My REAL father. Jason McGuire."

"That remains to be seen, Chris. Anyway, by the time of the dinner party, I DID know more about the facts of life, and could do the mental arithmetic. It occurred to me that Jason might have been at our house numerous times between the first time I'd ever seen him, and the time I caught him. But believing isn't the same as knowing, and what would I have gotten out of voicing my childish suspicions? Dad would have whupped me for sure, Mom would have had a breakdown, and I DID love you, even while I was jealous of you--- I believed they'd stick you in some horrible orphanage, like the one in the city that Grandpa Olmstead left a bundle to, Hammond's, I think it was. I knew God would punish me if I broke up my family! When Jason came to the dinner with Miss Collins and Cousin Paul, and made BOTH our parents mad, and even gave YOU a dirty look, I stood between you and him. I KNEW he was evil, and I didn't want him to have ANYTHING to do with MY baby sister! After that, I told myself that all my suspicions had been the product of sibling rivalry, and made myself forget most of them--- until NOW!"

"I'm sorry, Brian. I was born to cause trouble, it seems. And now, I'm going to make MORE trouble. I want a clear answer--- I want DNA tests, blood tests, the works. One of the Samwell heiresses owns a company called 'GenScan'--- it's very famous. State of the art genetic testing for forensics and other legal and personal matters. I know the young lady can order them to put a rush on any matter involving a friend or family member. I-- we--- happen to be both."

"But that means we'd have to exhume Mom and Dad!"

"I know. And I can tell, by the tone of your voice, you're going to say 'NO'."

Again, silence. Then, Brian said, "This is bound to change our relationship, no matter what the results are, Christine. These kinds of doubts about paternity ALWAYS do. But I've had these doubts for over 50 years, and they'll eat you alive if YOU live another 50. I think our parents WOULD want this settled--- I say OUR parents, because the parents who RAISED you are your REAL parents, in my opinion, and Dad-- Charlie--- NEVER treated you as anything LESS than his real daughter. And Mom must have supported him, perhaps still had hopes that you WERE Dad's, because she never let on, even when you three were at total loggerheads before your trip to Paris."

"Yes," Christine said, "she certainly COULD have thrown that into mine and Charlie's faces. I've been doing a lot of re-thinking about her in the past few weeks, talking to a man--- NOT Jason Junior--- who knew her when she was young, even gave me a picture of her that I'd like you to see, and I find myself wishing she could come back, even for a few minutes, so we could make up. Instead, I'm asking that we disturb her eternal rest! I hope she doesn't hate me for THAT, wherever she is, and Charlie. . . Well, I have reason to believe HE might be more tolerant, because I STILL love him and think of him as my Dad, and ALWAYS will, no matter what."

"As long as we're agreed on that policy, Christine, I will join with you in petitioning for an exhumation, as soon as you get things arranged with GenScan. There are also medical records for Mom and Dad that I ended up with as the executor of both their estates. I'll bring them when I come out for the exhumation. I wouldn't want you to face THAT alone. But that brings me to a question. Where will you get JASON'S contribution? Does anyone even know where he's buried, or if he's really dead? He COULD still be alive somewhere--- aged about 80 or so. If he is, and in NO condition to consent, that may throw water on our plans."

"Oh, HE'S alive all right. . . Don't worry, he'll be more than willing to consent. Mary Beth will handle that end of it. She's become well-acquainted with BOTH editions of our long-lost Cousin Jason McGuire."

"If she can manage to convince them to take the needle, I'll be grateful. Oh, and that gets me thinking. That legacy that you share with Mary Beth. I don't want to sound patronizing, Christine, but neither of you are famous for making sound financial decisions. I want to set up an appointment for you two, and Harvey, of course, the instant he's able to travel, with MY guy in New York, one of the best investment counselors around. . ."

A relieved Christine let Brian rattle on about his favorite subject. There was a time when his officiousness and sense of superiority in the material realm would have made her resentful and driven her to hang up on him in annoyance. However, over the years, she had discovered that pitching a genuinely well-meant spiel about her financial impracticality was just his way of regaining a normal footing after whatever unsettling personal business they had just transacted. And she HAD meant to ask his advice, for both her sake and Mary Beth's, sooner
or later. Better if it's sooner, she thought. That would be another piece of the puzzle to put into place, that would determine how soon she might have the final answer about Barnabas.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Mary Beth was truly alone at home for the first time she could remember in YEARS. The last time, as far as she could recall, was one golden summer, between the frightening time of her breast biopsy (mercifully negative!) and the joyous event of Alice's conception, when she and Harvey were able to afford to send their sons to sleep-away summer camp for a month. Then, instead of being allowed to relish their privacy, they were separated by unexpected demands from their jobs. First, Mary Beth and Christine had to cover the night shift during a sudden crime wave while several other detectives were on vacation. Then, Harvey was offered an opportunity to work on a luxurious senior citizen's housing complex in Islip, with lots of overtime and bonuses--- a job arranged by his brother, so that, from every angle, it was impossible to turn down. During that whole month, the couple managed to spend a grand total of two days in each other's company; all the rest, Mary Beth was coming home in the morning just as Harvey was rushing out. And even during those precious 2 days, they spent most of the time dozing off from exhaustion--- in their favorite living-room chairs!

Now, Mary Beth WAS alone, without having ANY pressure from the job to distract her from her solitude. She was relieved and happy that her whole family was going to recover from their life-threatening ordeals, was happy to have her future financial worries wiped away like chalk from a board, was even happy about how the entire Jason McGuire case was playing itself out. She WAS glum that Christine had left just as things were settling down, and how they could finally have enjoyed a REAL visit. She was even more glum that she was about to lose the formerly "boring" job which had stimulated and challenged her at every conceivable level of her legal and moral training.

To complete the cycle of glum-ness, she was once more disappointed that she and Harvey would have
to wait a while for that elusive grandchild. Iris would recover, and would certainly be able to get
pregnant--- Mary Beth had known several women who had gall-bladder removals and late-life appendectomies, and had later borne children without any trouble whatsoever. However, in view of the seriousness of the condition which had nearly killed her daughter-in-law, the doctors had advised Iris and Michael to wait at least a year before contemplating conception, to ensure complete internal healing.

Mary Beth eschewed the television, and rummaged through her collection for a book to read in bed, hopefully one that would put her to sleep. Ironically, the first one she found was "Fallen Angels Who Walk Among Us", by the late, great Professor Timothy Elliot Stokes. Have to remember to return THIS one to Elliot Collins, Mary Beth thought, and was going to put it back in the bookcase, when it occurred to her that she had never read it through. Maybe the good Professor had some insights on how to live with a retired, repented, and reformed vampire at liberty in the community--- it had been Barnabas back then, and it was Barnabas now.

Mary Beth skimmed through some of the more philosophical sections of the book, and got the idea that the Professor had his own doubts about the morality of leaving such a being, who WAS vulnerable to relapse, to his own devices. The best option Stokes could foresee at the time was to tap into Barnabas's undoubtedly substantial knowledge about the realm of the damned, in the event that a WORSE threat loomed over the community. And, indeed, according to the book, the un-named, recovering vampire DID serve such purposes.

Yet, in addition to his role as informant about the Infernal, Barnabas, who was surely unique among his kind, had become a benign, respected businessman; up until recently, trusted and revered by his family and fellow townspeople, a devoted husband and father, a REPUBLICAN (friend of the Bush family!) Was 30 years of proven good behavior enough to permit going forth from the near-tragedy in that tunnel room and trusting the man to live the last decade or two of his life without falling once more into the pit of vampire temptation, and, worse, once more dragging his youthful son into the quagmire?

Now, more than ever, Mary Beth wished she COULD continue as Sheriff. She knew ALL the secrets now, and yet, had been allowed to survive, not only by Barnabas and Angelique, but by whatever other forces had driven previous Sheriffs and preachers and virtually anyone else who discovered such dangerous arcane truths, to often horrible deaths! Collinsport, it became apparent, WAS a kind of gateway to both Heaven and Hell, and, perhaps, the Higher Powers had decided it was high time there was a responsible earthly Gatekeeper, who had wisdom gained from his or her own experience with questions of good and evil and all points between.

And who better than the Sheriff of Collinsport, who held considerable sway over the resources of law and order in such a small, but vital, town? This concept made Mary Beth think with even greater admiration of the late Sheriff George Patterson, who had chosen to return to the office, and stayed there until his death, after many years of superintending such crises. Perhaps he had an epiphany of sorts which revealed all truths to him, yet HE had died a quite ordinary death in his 70's--- and left his notes to HER, a more natural successor, perhaps, than Beardsley, who held the office during its longest period of total normalcy.

Maybe there was a certain element of fate attending HIS sudden promotion and departure from Collinsport--- the circle was turning towards another crisis, and it was time to bring in the one person who held ALL the pieces to the puzzle, including the spouse and child with the blood that would cure the curse, and the partner who could put to rest a long-dormant threat to the community AND the world. Mary Beth even had the right help at the right time--- Job Woodard, who, though he presented himself as a simple man, had the knowledge to warn her and Christine; Bob Rooney, who, in spite of the indiscretion that had inadvertantly gotten David Collins killed, proved himself devoted and faithful to his Sheriff and her partner; Pauline Peterson with her crack-brained courage and surprising streak of common sense; Elliot and Hannah Collins, wise and spiritually aware beyond their years; Hallie Stokes Collins, who had supported and aided Mary Beth in spite of the tragic mistake which had killed her husband; Willie, the former thief and con man, who had half a lifetime of making difficult but often successful choices that protected not only Barnabas but his victims; Allarice, formerly Angelique, who had made herself into an ally of her former enemies in the face of a far greater evil; Lang, the doctor who could cure ALL ills, it seemed; Quentin Collins, sardonic and seductive, yet sincere in his desire to aid his troubled family and friends. . .

And that wasn't even mentioning the "good ghosts", and the resurrection of Jonah Newman, though, just maybe, the ghosts simply represented inner strengths that their living channelers couldn't believe resided inside of themselves. AS for Jonah, well. . . The coming days would prove whether he WAS real, or just represented the power of wishful thinking. Still, such help could not have appeared anywhere else, unless there was ANOTHER vortex like Collinsport!

Mary Beth, now in an exalted frame of mind that barely permitted sleep, took the book to her bedroom, and started to read in earnest. However, the bedside phone soon rang, interrupting her attempt to rest. I AM still the Sheriff around here, until Monday, anyway, Mary Beth thought, as she picked up the receiver. However, instead of a report of a robbery or some other police matter, it was Christine, excitedly asking if, and how soon, Jason McGuire could be made availabe for DNA testing--- Brian had, as Mary Beth foresaw, agreed to take whatever steps necessary to settle the question of his sister's paternity. There WOULD be some doubts, even after testing; Charlie and Jason WERE closer than most first cousins, being the sons of identical twins, but perhaps one side would come up with a higher number of genetic markers than the other, and that would have to suffice, for better or worse.

After she assured her partner that she COULD gain Jason's co-operation, and Christine had hung up, a mere 10 minutes had elapsed, with Mary Beth once more immersed in Stokes's book, when the phone rang again. This time, she thought, God forbid, one of my sick people is worse!

"Hello, hello?" she panted fearfully.

"Mom? What's the matter?" A familiar voice, somewhat like Michael's, but deeper, more self-assured. "MOM--- it's ME---"

"OH--- Harvey Junior," Mary Beth said with relief. "I'm sorry I didn't get back to you after your Dad's operation. But Mike said he was keeping you informed."

"Indeed he has. And, now poor Iris. . . It's been driving me crazy with worry all the way out here in Silicon Valley!"

"Well, then," Mary Beth said with a less-than-subtle hint of reproach, "why haven't you come to see us?"

"Mom. . . Honest to God, I would have. But the issue at the time was, did I have that special blood
type? Unfortunately, no. Even if I had, I probably would have had to send the donation by air-mail."

"Oh, come on, Harvey, you could have taken some time off from your job! Those days when computer geeks had to work 80 hours a week are over, or so I've heard."

"That's true, Mom, but even so, there was another reason why I couldn't just drop everything. I've been having some problems with Krystal here. I was going to tell you last week, but with all the stuff happening at your end, I thought it best to wait until there was a resolution."

Now, Mary Beth's voice took on a more sympathetic note as she said, quietly, "Oh, Lord. I'm sorry, Harvey. What, are you two separating, maybe getting a divorce?"

"Would that make you happy, Mom? I know you and Dad don't much like Krystal. And I know HER parents would be delighted. They certainly aren't crazy about ME, especially now that the slow-down in my industry threatens what they believe is Krystal's proper lifestyle. Krystal, for the record, doesn't agree with them, and was working full-time, until a couple of weeks ago. But now, she can't work, and it's all on me."

"So, send her back to her folks, and come to US," Mary Beth urged. "We're members of the Collins family now, THEY like us, maybe they can find a position for you in their company, or you can just take your sweet time deciding what you'd really LIKE to do. Because now, we've inherited some money--- enough to send you back to graduate school or start your own business, or whatever. Heck, be a playboy for a year or two, it won't hurt anything, and I know you missed out on a lot of fun when you were in the Marines and then working for that degree even during the summers, while working full-time, then getting tied up with Krystal--"

"I'm glad you have the money, Mom, and maybe I'll take you up on graduate school or starting a business, but I was just getting to why I can't leave Krystal. I love her a lot. I think if you DID have a chance to know her better, you'd understand why, and maybe with this money, we can do some serious visiting back and forth in the future. But Krystal can't travel these days. And she IS with her parents, though not because we're splitting up. She's pregnant, and because of some complications, she's on bed-rest for the next 6 months!"

"Oh, Harvey, baby, that's-- that's--- " Somehow, the word "wonderful" wasn't quite appropriate. "Well, I can IMAGINE how hard that must be on you two, and Krystal's parents, but when that baby comes, and everything is back to normal, it will be a TRULY blessed event , I'm sure. Oh, your Dad will be SO happy, as I am. Our first grandchild!"

"GrandCHILDREN. Krystal was taking a fertility drug. So far, the ultrasound has detected TRIPLETS. So it's EXTRA important that Krystal gets as far along in the pregnancy as possible. It's tough--- she even has to lie on one side most of the time, with only a few minutes an hour to use the bathroom or wash up. It's a real project to get her to the doctor when she needs a test that can't be
done at home."

Mary Beth declared, "Well, if your mother-in-law needs extra help, we can pitch in and hire nurses or home care aides. We can even pay for an ambulance to take Krystal to the doctor when she needs it. And as soon as your Dad and Alice are better, I'll head on out there and take care of you two also. It seems I won't be Sheriff much longer. But I have to tell you, we ARE staying in Collinsport. You have a lot of family out here that wants to meet you. I just helped deliver one of your cousins the other night. Hopefully, in a year or two, Mike and Iris will start their family, and pretty soon there will be plenty of babies around here to play with each other as they grow up!" She happily contemplated having one or two guest bedrooms added to the house.

"That's a nice thought, Mom, and I'll be sure to tell Krystal. And there's something else. . ."

"What, Harvey?"

"I'm sorry for not having been closer to you folks for a few years."

"Well, luckily, we are now able to buy some time to make up for it. And you were my FIRST baby, you know--- I would have forgiven you for a lot worse."

"Mom, I remember. . . I wasn't really your FIRST baby."

Mary Beth had nearly forgotten that she had confessed her Puerto Rico misadventure to her eldest son years ago, yet had NOT told Michael, though it seemed possible she might have to do so with Alice. Maybe Harvey Junior COULD help her when she reached that pass. "Harvey, that isn't why you grew away from us so fast, is it? You seemed to take it so well when I told you. But I forgot, it's hard on a son to acknowledge that his MOTHER, especially, was less than perfect. And, in trying to prove a point, I left out some details as to how bad the incident really WAS. When we meet again, I WILL set the record straight, because I might need the practice to deal with Alice. But you WERE my first baby. NOBODY can take that away from you. The earlier pregnancy and how it ended was like a bad dream that made me appreciate how great it was when YOU were born, and your brother and sister, of course."

Harvey Junior protested, "I KNOW that, Mom. But there were other things. . . You weren't too pleased
when I joined the Service, or the way I tried to communicate with Grandpa Zebiski, or moved to California, or married Krystal. MIKE did what you wanted and made you happy. Alice made you happy simply because she was a girl. WE'VE been at odds since I was 13 years old!"

Mary Beth replied, "Maybe it's because there was something in you that reminded me of myself or my family. You're even starting to sound like your grandfather. He was about your age when he left my mother. And now, you're just starting YOUR family. This comes at the tail end of what was a very scary time for ME, and the rest of us. Could be, I'm feeling a bit resentful because you weren't here helping us out, like all the times I wish my father could have helped Mama and myself. I needed my father when I was in trouble. I'm not sure what YOU could have done for me at this point, but if you had just BEEN here. . . Sometimes, that's all a person wants. A presence, a word, a touch. Or an explanation! I certainly would have understood if you'd told me about Krystal's plight BEFORE. I understand NOW. Let's just try, from here on out, to be CLEAR with each other! I'm living in a town that has suffered for 300 years because of one family's secrets. Time to break the cycle."
* * * * * * * * * * * *

PART TWENTY-TWO: MONDAY, APRIL 24, 2000

The phone rang next to Mary Beth's bed at 6:00 A.M. When she picked it up, her sleep-fuddled mind told her that Jonah WAS still real.

"Hi, Mary Beth," he said, TOO brightly for six in the morning. "Any news about about your daughter-in-law? I vaguely remember your kids as KIDS, it's still hard for me to believe they're both grown up and married!" And one older than I was, when I died the FIRST time, was the unspoken implication.

Mary Beth muttered, "Hard for ME to believe sometimes. But s'far as I know, as of last night, Iris is on the mend. Look, Jonah, I appreciate your concern, but it's REALLY hard to believe you called me at this hour just to ask after Iris's condition."

"You're right. I'm at the police station, covering for Rooney, as you requested. He's already getting the fellows together to cover any fracas at David Collins's memorial service. I have an appointment to get measured for a deputy's uniform, but I'm running into some glitches in filling out my paperwork for Social Security and such. My OLD S.S. number must have passed to someone else by now. And I need a U.S.A. birth certificate, a picture I.D., and educational records, former employment--- If you REALLY want me on your police force, I'm going to need some documentation! HELP!"

"Yeah, yeah. . . " Mary Beth muttered. "I'm thinking, Barnabas must have faced the same problems. . . Either he, or, I'm thinking, Willie, must know how to get those kinds of papers. . . Damn, to do the RIGHT thing, I have to do the WRONG thing, again. . ."

"That's just the facts of life around here," Jonah answered sensibly. "Well, I just tried to call Willie at that Old House. All I got, was an answering machine message."

Mary Beth sat bolt upright. "Oh, I forgot to tell you! He's in Las Vegas with Maggie Shaw, Vicki and Jeremy Collins. The young ones were supposed to get hitched; I suppose they must be, by now. The family won't be back for another day or so."

"Well, then, I know this will disturb you a lot, Mary Beth, but I'm going to have to ask Barnabas for a LITTLE help to tide me over till then. He must have SOME useful advice on tap. He's been at this sort of thing for QUITE a few years."

"I-- I DO understand, Jonah. You DID seem to have a rapport with him. And I'M no longer charging him with anything, though I expect a statement from him about Amy and other matters. Maybe you can take a recorder and a witness along, and get THAT chore out of the way."

"Mary Beth, I think I know why you're letting him go. . . You see something of yourself in him. If he's free, then, in a weird way, YOU'RE free. But you're not really, you know. Nor is Christine. Your lives, past and present, are linked to his. So, if you HOPE to make peace with your life here, and you expect Christine to share it, and I KNOW you do, you'll BOTH have to reconcile with Barnabas."

"I don't think I CAN, Jonah. I'm willing to live and let live, like my predecessor. I'm willing to pick Barnabas's brains in case we ever face another such threat, or have YOU do it for me. But complete and utter forgiveness? When I hear that he scared my former self to death--- what the hell, in spite of what he told me, if old Aunt Abigail HADN'T died on the spot, I KNOW he WOULD have killed her! And, more to the point, how can I completely forgive what he did to ALICE and to AMY, who brought my family into the circle of his curse in the FIRST place? I think I can forgive him the way an abused wife might forgive her husband, or a rape victim her attacker--- from a safe distance away, in a women's shelter, with big armed guards! In short, totally CONDITIONAL, UNTRUSTING forgiveness--- he stays out of MY way, I'll stay out of HIS. NOT terribly Christian of me, is it?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't know about the Christian angle," Jonah replied with a hint of a chuckle. "But I know it WOULD hurt CHRISTINE, if she came back up here to join him." There was silence at his end of the line, before he continued, quite seriously this time. "There IS one litmus test that could determine how you and Barnabas will be able to tolerate each other. You must bring Alice to see him."

"NO!" Mary Beth was glad the house was empty, and that nobody else could hear her shout of dismay and fear. "Alice's memory of the whole night is fuzzy at best. You know, WE arrived too late to see EXACTLY what was done to her--- Vicki Shaw's mind was mush due to being drugged, Jeremy was under some hypnotic influence, Christine only saw Vicki's attack, and Barnabas is a master of--- well, not EVASION, exactly. He tells the truth, the AWFUL truth, but in such a way that you almost nod and say, 'I understand your side completely'. To top everything off, we now have Jason McGuire claiming total omnipotence over the crime--- HE stole Alice, and performed total mind-control over the rest of them!" Mary Beth shook her head in exasperation. "It certainly saves several people, including those near and dear to me, from prison, but it IS a distant cousin to what we know of the truth."

"The only things I know for certain," she continued, "are that Alice lost a lot of blood through puncture wounds on her neck and thigh, which were already injured, and might have started bleeding on their own. There's no way to tell WHAT made them--- all the fangs in the Collins family are gone for good, and, no doubt, the strange