Subj: The Letter, Part 13
Date: 8/3/01 12:15:06 AM Central Daylight Time
From: R J Jamison

Two days had passed since Barnabas and Julia had arrived in the remote Brazilian village. The patient showed modest signs of improvement. He still was not completely conscious nor communicative. He did not know who was tending him. He did not see the tender care rendered to him almost without stop since Julia had arrived. Barnabas had noted Julia’s obsessive oversight of the care and noted she would not listen to him when he counseled her to rest. She stubbornly returned to the large hut and tended her husband. She forbade anyone but Eliot and the Indian woman who had been tending Taylor to step inside. She was still unsure what exactly Taylor had and how it was transmitted. She reckoned they had already been exposed if it was contagious and she could use their assistance.

Julia now sat next to Taylor calmly wiping his brow with cool water. She had instructed that water be boiled and cooled before it was brought to her for anything. She had also directed Barnabas to not drink unboiled water and to keep up with the Quinine pills she had quickly purchased in Boston. She looked pensively at the sweating and soiled man. It was impossible to keep him clean, she frowned. She then looked down at her own clothes. She had obviously not guessed the Amazon rain forest when packing. Her suit had been discarded for mainly her slip when she sat in the hut. It was cooler in the hut than one would suspect but she still found the humidity stifling. Since only her husband and another woman were with her today, she put modesty aside and shed her jacket and skirt hours ago. The Indian woman had smiled reassuringly when she watched Julia toss the heavy clothes aside. “Taylor, you’ve been here all along. I can’t imagine why you’ve hidden from your Father like this . . .Me, now I can understand that. I was a horrible wife to you. I wasn’t even a very good friend in the end. ” Julia stopped her soliloquy to accept a new bowl of water from the Indian woman. As soon as the exchange was completed, Julia was again alone with her husband. She looked down at his aged face. He had aged much more than she had and she knew, she was no longer the barely thirty-something woman he had left behind. His life looked as if it had been hard as well. The lines across his face were deep but she did note the especially dark lines were around his mouth. Perhaps he had smiled and laughed a lot, she hoped.

“Ahhhhhh,” Taylor uttered an anguished sigh. He raised a hand to his head and pushed away the cool cloth. “Thirsty.”

Julia quickly took a small cup and held it to his lips. She maneuvered herself to raise his head. He drank slowly and laid his head back on her bent legs. He smacked his lips and rubbed the stubble on his face. His eyes did not open nor did he say anything else before he fell asleep again. Soon after this flicker of consciousness, the Indian woman returned and motioned to Julia that Stokes was ready to relieve her for a few hours. Julia nodded, quickly pulled on her skirt and passed Eliot in the doorway. “He was conscious for less than a minute, the temperature is going down, keep the cold compresses on his face, arms and chest. I’ll rest and be back in a few hours.”

Stokes touched Julia’s arm. “Julia, tonight the tribal elders want to hold a healing ceremony for Taylor.” He watched Julia glance at Taylor and then return her attention to him. “As his caretaker you must participate in the ceremony.”

She nodded. “What is involved?”

Eliot outlined the ceremony which would start at dusk, the singing, dancing and observation of the stars and moon. Eliot neglected to tell Julia of the final stage of the ceremony because he felt she would refuse and that could not be allowed. However, if she was surprised by the final aspect, she might bow more easily to the elders pressure and participate. At
least he hoped so. Having participated in the ceremony once many years before, he knew its power and purpose.

Julia found Barnabas by the edge of the river, which they called Xingu. Eliot had informed them it was relatively safe and was a major fishing river for the area. She noted Barnabas had fashioned a fishing pole and was obviously bored beyond salvation. He wasn’t the Huck Finn type and his patience with the entire situation was endearing. “Catch anything for dinner?” She kneeled next to him on log, laid aside her jacket and began splashing water on her face and arms.

“I was fortunate to have a few bites on the line but I threw them all back.” He observed that Julia had been wearing less and less clothing since her revelation about Taylor. He wondered if it wasn’t a symbolic transformation. He wondered what it all meant. “We didn’t bring the appropriate apparel did we?”

“No,” She glanced back at Barnabas sitting in his slacks and dress shirt. She had never seen him without a jacket, vest and tie. “We were supposed to stop and purchase what we need but Helio allowed us no time for that.”

“Helio, yes, he stopped by today. He will be going back to Brasilia tomorrow to get some supplies, you should make a list. He may be able to find some cooler, suitable attire.”

Julia nodded. “I can only imagine what he’d pick out for a lady.” She shook the water off her hands and sat next to him on the log. “Did Stokes tell you about the ceremony at sundown?”

“Yes. He said we both must participate.” Julia’s eyes widened in surprise.

“But you aren’t the . . .healer.” She said.

“I am seen as your companion and support. In supporting you, I am a key figure in the healing.” Barnabas anchored his fishing rod in the muddy bank. He then rose and stood before Julia. “It is all right, I am excited to participate. I did participate in some non-Christian religious ceremonies in Martinique.”

Julia nodded. “I’m going to rest before they get started.” She left him at the riverbank. He watched her go and wondered what she knew of such ceremonies. He was certain there were be some type of hallucinogenic to ingest. He had participated in such activities before but was certain Julia had not and he also knew she would be expected to do so.

At dusk the Village children gathered outside the hut Julia, Eliot and Barnabas used. The children chanted loudly and happily for Barnabas and Julia to join them. When they emerged in their city clothes, the children pulled and picked at them, laughing at the clothes. Julia had felt she should wear more than her full slip and a skirt to such a ceremony and thus felt miserable under the heavy clothing. Barnabas had not changed his attire. Together they walked in the midst of the children to the Village center. They found the Village men and women awaiting them.

Julia found the ceremony simple and easy to follow. They ate generous portions of food, listened to several speeches, none of which they understood as Eliot stayed with Taylor. Finally, the elder women began dancing around the fire that cracked in the dark night and the elder men chanted. Julia watched the women’s feet raise and fall in the firelight. They had anklets on that made rattling noises as their feet fell, in their hands they held feathers, bones and painted wood sticks. Their naked bodies were covered in exotically painted designs. The women danced for what Julia estimated to be thirty minutes, then they came to her. She stood to follow them clumsily in the dance for a few minutes. She was thankful for the darkness, she could see Barnabas’s amused observance of the dance. She was glad he could not see her beet red face. The women then collected Barnabas. The group then was directed to a clear area before the fire and by the men. Barnabas and Julia reclined on mats that were laid on the ground.

Barnabas was careful to not look Julia directly in the eyes but he felt a word of caution might now be advisable. “Julia,” he risked taking her hand. “You must participate fully in the ceremony, Julia.”

“Yes, I intend to and am doing so—“ She expressed a bit of irritation at his patronizing tone.

“They are going to ask us—“ Barnabas was stopped by Julia’s raised hand.

“I know what they are going to ask us and I am prepared to participate. Eliot told me about it years ago.” Julia turned to face the village elders. “Of course, he conveniently forgot to refresh my memory today.”

After several more speeches, the male elders began smoking from a long pipe Julia estimated to be two feet in length. It was passed from the oldest to the youngest of men. Finally they handed it to Barnabas. He took it as offered and then followed the elaborate hand gestures of the oldest man as he directed that it should finally go to Julia. She was to finish the remaining contents of the pipe. “You are to finish it.” Julia’s eyes widened at the thought of inhaling more than once from the pipe. She gently accepted the pipe and inhaled once then twice. After the second time, the eldest man took the pipe from her. She watched as the men then all began spreading out around the fire to experience the effects of the narcotic in the pipe. As a doctor, she felt that it was somewhat imprudent to not know what she had just ingested but earlier that day she had remembered Eliot’s tale of spiritual enlightenment along the banks of the Xingu River. She did not remember exactly what plant he had consumed but at the time she had not chided him too strongly and had thought it was a mild drug.

The affects of the drug settled on Julia first. She fell back against Barnabas who gently placed her down on the mat. Her eyes were glassy and a peculiar smile played on her features. He did not know where she was. Internally, Julia began experiencing the truth of her life and the last twenty years. She saw very clearly how her life pieces fit together like a large
one thousand piece jigsaw puzzle.

Barnabas settled back on the mat near Julia. His right hand rested on her left arm. He did not feel anything for several moments and reluctantly acknowledged that he was immune to the drug’s affects. Suddenly he was jolted into the past. He began experiencing a life not known to him. The life that explained the last two hundred years of his existence, for the beginning of his spiritual journey began long before he was born as Barnabas Collins.

“Braden Jeremiah Collins!” A loud male voice yelled at him.

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.