Subj: First Foot Pt.1
Date: 4/28/99 6:16:16 PM Central Daylight Time
From: marcos1

A custom in Scotland and the north of England is called First footing. The first visitor at a house after midnight on New Year's Eve, has a special meaning.

~~~

Today...

Barnabas waited in the outer room. The sun could be seen setting outside of the hospital window. The sunlight, which had been harsh, now took on a gentle and soft glow. It had been a difficult day. Recently, he hadn't slept well. Memories were flooding his mind. Memories that were unforeseen.

Elizabeth lay on the bed. She was dying. She knew this. It was hardly unexpected. She was very old and had led a full life, but yet...these dreams...dreams of a lover. She had never seen his face, in the years of dreaming. Until last night...what did it mean?

One afternoon in 1924...

“Liz, come here, ' Lois said, laughing. This old house was such fun. She was delighted that her friend, Liz, had suggested it. At first, the cobwebs, creaking doors, broken glass, had made it seem spooky. But now, finding this old trunk full of clothes in the attic, this was great. Some of the old clothes, still looked pretty. And there were letters, jewelry, and other interesting things.

“What is it?” Liz asked. The fourteen year old girl brushed back her dark hair. The old house was her secret place, whenever the demands of her father and pesky little brother, were too much. This was her place, a place of romance, and dreams of the past.

“Letters, dozens of letters,” replied Lois, “from a man named Barnabas, to someone called Gozette...no, that's Josette. French isn't it?”

“Yes,” Liz replied. “I've heard of a Barnabas.” She grabbed the letters excitedly. “He was my ancestor. There is a picture of him in the west-wing.”

Liz started to read the letter. Her eyes began to mist.

~~~

To my dearest beloved,

It is with great bliss, that I write this letter. Words cannot express my love and admiration for you. When we first met in Martinique, I felt that you were forever beyond me, beyond any hope of my love. I secretly watched you, everyday, during your studies with Angelique, walking proudly down the cobbled streets of the village, even, one time, as you slept. You are so beautiful! I can't doubt that there is a God, when I look upon you.

When I first wrote to you, I was amazed and delighted that you wrote back to me. These letters have meant so much to me. Now, you write and tell me of your love. This is wonderful!

I eagerly await your arrival in Collinsport. For years, I've been lonely. Now, you have given me, more than hope, you have given me a reason to rejoice. I am now forever changed. I treasure each day, each hour, each minute, of my life. The world to me, has always seemed a dark and hopeless place. Now, it is a place of joy and delight. I delight in your love.

Come to me, my dear Josette. I love you, more than my life. My life, which I now treasure because of you. You have given me a reason to be happy. I shall be grateful, forever, my dearest one.

With love and respect

Barnabas Collins—1795

~~~

Elizabeth was so touched by the letter. She put all of the letters in her handbag. She read them, every day, and dreamed of Barnabas, her gentleman ancestor, that loved love, more than his life. Liz spent many a Saturday afternoon, looking at his picture in the west wing. He was so handsome, but more than that, he had a gentle, kind, and noble heart. He filled her dreams.

~~~

December 31, 1929

“The first visitor at the house after midnight on New Year's Eve,” Magda said, “he shall be your true love.” The aging gypsy read from the Tarot cards. She was sitting in the drawing room speaking with her favorite Collins. Young Elizabeth Collins, had always treated her with respect. The girl was every bit a Collins, proud, smart, and very much a lady, but with a kind heart, and a wisdom beyond her years, respecting the value of dreams.

“Oh, shall he come tonight,” Liz said, smiling, “this very eve, my Barnabas Collins.”

“What nonsense!” Roger said, walking into the room. He was her ‘baby brother. She loved him, but sometimes, he was insufferable. “That is just great, a dead Collins, shall come to our party. What fun, that'll be!” He sat down next to Liz on the sofa. “Really, Liz, when are you going to give up, this foolish dream of yours? Are you going to allow this family to be the laughing stock of Collinsport!”

“Barnabas is very real,” Liz said. She held the torn and yellowed letter to her breast. “He shall be my true love. I just know it.”

To be continued