"So that's it? We're just going to assume that Sally's in Winter Harbor with David?" Beth asked her mother.

"What else can we do?"

"Well, we could call his cell phone and find out," her daughter suggested.

"All right. You win. Let's go back to the house and we'll call him."

* * * * *

Using David's cell phone, Sarah had called ahead to Barnabas and Julia's house to let them know that they were on their way.

"Julia says that he's got classes until 10:00 tonight," she sighed.

"Well I guess that means that we're going to the college."

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Of course I would. Now, did Julia tell you what room his class is in, or are you going to call the school to find out? You can't just go wandering around on the campus looking for him and expect to find him."

Sarah sighed and dialed directory assistance. "What's the name of the school where he teaches?"

* * * * *

Carolyn hung up the phone. "David's cell phone is still busy."

"Well, then there's only one thing to do, Mom."

"No."

Beth nodded. "Yes, Mom."

"I don't have time for that."

"And you do have time to worry about Sally?"

"What are you two talking about?" Javier asked.

"Going to Winter Harbor," the pair answered simultaneously.

* * * * *

Sarah hung up the phone. "Well, I know what room he's in."

"Good," David said with a smile. "Because we're nearly there."

The butterflies in Sarah's stomach had been getting larger and more vicious the closer they got to Bangor. She was pretty certain that they were blue jays at the moment, and that they'd be ravens by the time she actually saw her brother again.

Her brother. Barnabas. He had been closer to her than a brother, really. More like a father. Father and mother in one, truthfully. She just didn't know what she'd do if he rejected her.

* * * * *

As Carolyn, Javier and Beth reached Bar Harbor, Beth said, "Turn right here, Mom."

Exasperatedly, "Beth!"

Just as exasperatedly, "Mom!"

Carolyn sighed and pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store. "You know why I don't want to take the ferry, Beth."

"Mom, that was what? 25? 26 years ago?"

"Would the two of you *please* tell me what you're talking about?" Javier leaned forward to participate in their conversation.

Carolyn, in a fit of pique, threw the door of the car open, slammed it shut behind her, and went into the store.

Once she was gone, Beth explained.

"You see, back when the family still lived at Collinwood, in the '70s, they had a housekeeper named Sarah Johnson. Well, she eloped with a family friend, Eliot Stokes. He's the uncle of David's ex-wife, Hallie. Anyway, they left Collinsport and drove to Bar Harbor, where they got on the Winter Harbor ferry, which was going to take them to their honeymoon. Only the captain? Skipper? Whatever he was, the guy in charge of the ferry miscalculated the weight and the boat capsized. Both Eliot and Mrs. Johnson -- err, Stokes, were killed when it capsized, and my mom's refused to get on it ever since."

"Your dad's a ghost, and your mom's afraid of dying?"

Beth shrugged. "I never said it made sense."

They waited a few more minutes until Carolyn came out, carrying three plastic 20 ounce bottles of Coke. "Well," she said as she climbed into the car and handed one of the bottles to each of the other two, "I guess we're off to the Winter Harbor ferry."

* * * * *

Holding hands, Sarah and David walked to the room where Barnabas was teaching his class. The room was deadly quiet.

They hovered in the doorway while they waited for Barnabas to notice them. Finally, he looked up from the papers he was grading and saw them standing there. He glanced quickly around the room and then stepped out into the hallway.

"It's final examinations this week," Barnabas said.

"I *really* need to talk to you, Barnabas." Sarah said.

"Can't this wait? I have to sit with them while they take their exams."

David chose this moment to interrupt. "Look Barnabas. I finished college, med school and passed my boards. I certainly can watch them take a test. Why don't you go and talk to . . . each other, and I'll stay here and keep an eye on them?"

"All right. Thank you, David," Barnabas said in his best staid, professorial tones.

"Thanks, sweetie," Sarah said, exchanging a quick kiss with David before he ducked into the room.

David closed the door behind him and, trying to still the flying foxes in her stomach, Sarah addressed her brother. "Why don't we go over there? I *think* you're going to need to sit down for this."

* * * * *

Every eye in the room was on David as he took the seat that Barnabas had recently vacated.

He sighed, pulling a lighter from his pocket and placing it on the table in front of him. "I'm David Collins, Mr. Collins' cousin. I'll be keeping an eye on you while he's . . . occupied elsewhere," he announced.

A murmur passed through the room, and then all eyes went back down to their test papers.

* * * * *

Barnabas and Sarah sat down on a bench in the hallway.

"Are you and David . . . involved?" Barnabas asked.

"Well, yes, but that's not what I came here to talk to you about." She leaned towards him, folding her hands to keep from fidgeting. She wished idly she'd picked up some fruit or insects to keep the bats in her stomach happy.

"I'm Sarah."

Barnabas looked at her.

"Your sister."

His expression never wavered, but when Sarah said these two words, Barnabas felt hollow, like every organ in his body just slid out of him and lay in a quivering mass at his feet. {She couldn't have said what I thought she just said, could she?}

"Barnabas? Are you all right?"

In response, Barnabas said the first thing that came to mind. The thing that 30 years of denial and lies had conditioned him to say. "I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else."

* * * * *

David sat with his feet up on the table, idly flicking the lighter on and off.

His eyes met those of one of the students on the other side of the room.

"Keep your eyes on your *own* paper," David stated flatly.

A murmur ran through the class as the student's demeanor instantly took on the air of one who has been caught in the act of misbehaving, and he looked back down to his paper and continued writing.

* * * * *

"Of course you're who I think you are, Barnabas," Sarah insisted. "You're my brother Barnabas Collins, born in 1765."

{Could it really be?} Barnabas longed to believe her, but years of hiding his identity won out. "I understand now. You must think that I'm my great-great-great-grandfather. No, I was born in England in 1937."

{How am I going to convince you that you can trust me?} she asked him silently, gazing into those hazel eyes she loved so well. Then she decided. "Your first wife, Angelique."

"What about her?"

"I knew her, you know."

"Really?" Sarah *had* known Angelique. He hardly dared hope . . .

"She was a witch. She did terrible things to my family. She . . . hurt my brother, she killed my aunt, and she made my mother kill herself."

Barnabas dug his fingernails into his palms. It had taken him literally centuries to learn to forgive Angelique for the things she had done in a blind fury over his betrayal of her, and he leapt to his soulmate's defense. "Even if she is the same woman you think you knew, she obviously had changed, because the woman I married was nothing but beautiful and loving."

{Perfect!} Sarah had to bite her lips, and yet her mouth still tried to turn up at the corners. Her eyes glittering like obsidian and her mouth pursed up as if drawn with a drawsting, she said, "'Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?'"

"Don't quote Aunt Abigail at *me,* young lady!"

This time, Sarah did smile. A smile that traveled all the way from her eyes to her heart. "Gotcha."

Collinsport – Part 35
From: DSRules