Subj: Out of the Past, Ch 3
Date: 11/4/01 10:10:42 PM Central Standard Time
From: R J Jamison

Barnabas closed the lid to the metal box. He confirmed Elizabeth’s estimate that the jewelry was well over two hundred years old. It reminded him of pieces from his Mother’s collection. More troubling, the pieces seemed familiar to him but he could not place them.

“So what should I tell Mrs. Stoddard?”

Barnabas handed the box back to Willie. “They are as old as she estimated. She should have them formally appraised and insured, they are very valuable.”

Willie noted the lines of worry on Barnabas’s brow. “What is it Barnabas?”

“The pieces are familiar to me Willie, I just can’t recall who they belonged to.”

“Familiar?”

“Yes. I’ve seen them before and I can almost see them in my mind’s eye but not who owned them.” Barnabas shook his head. “As I embrace this new century and the life I now have, I loose grip on many memories of the past.”

Willie looked down at the box. “You think its important or anything?”

Barnabas dismissed the idea. “Willie, I’ve traveled to so many times at Collinwood and met many women, I should not chastise myself for not being able to remember their jewelry. Elizabeth now has some very old and very valuable pieces to add to her collection.”

Eliot Stokes, with gloved hands, gently examined the tarot cards Carolyn had brought to his office. His delicate movements seemed out of place with his blustery and bombastic persona. “Very interesting Carolyn, yes, most interesting.”

“What can you tell about them?” Carolyn leaned over Eliot’s shoulder.

“That they are quite old, and that they are most likely from the Caribbean.”

“Caribbean? How can you determine that?”

“By the symbols and the Creole patois words here.” Eliot carefully raised one of the cards. “Have you read much of the Afro-Caribbean religions yet in your coursework?” Carolyn indicated she had not. “It is something that you should acquaint yourself with; very powerful religions, Voodoo, Obeah, Santeria. . . “

“But how did those cards end up in Collinwood?” Carolyn found the idea of a Collins practicing anything but a stalwart Protestant religion preposterous.

“The Collins Family has traded with the Caribbean islands and their merchants for centuries. I do believe some people from the Caribbean married into the Collins family.”

Carolyn thought of Barnabas and Josette Collins. Yes, people from the Caribbean had married into the family. “Yes, Josette Collins was from Martinique.”

“Well then, perhaps these belonged to her.”

Carolyn contemplated. “It doesn’t seem in character of what we know of her.”

Eliot looked up with a troubled expression. “Just what can you know of her? She died nearly two hundred years ago, Barnabas has a portrait of her in his home and she has about five sentences dedicated to her in the Collins Family History. I don’t see how you could form any opinions about her based on that.”

“Oh but Barnabas has other sources of information from his family, his great-great—I don’t know how many greats he was, grandfather loved Josette.”

Eliot nodded. He knew Carolyn was a romantic and had been polluted by Barnabas’s stories of Collinsport in the past. It was true that Barnabas had visited Collinsport’s past and had seen much of it first hand but Eliot could not countenance Barnabas’s romanticism. “I have a book here,” Eliot stood and crossed to one of his many cluttered bookshelves. He scanned for several moments and then pulled out a thin volume. “Read this and then take a stab at telling the future.”

Carolyn raised her brow. “You think I should?”

“I do not see why not. These cards might be quite powerful considering their age. Just be extremely careful with them. I’d suggest wearing gloves but that would interfere with the story the cards have to tell.”

After the cards had been carefully rewrapped, Carolyn looked at Eliot with concern. “Professor Stokes, things have always been so. . .” Carolyn tossed about looking for a word.

“Quiet?” He offered.

“That is putting it mildly and kindly. I am curious about these cards and what they might tell us but I don’t want to raise any trouble at home.”

Eliot nodded. “Well then, we shall have some tea and try the cards in the comfort and safety of my home rather than yours.”

Two Months later

Willie stood in the construction zone of Julia’s new office. He appraised the work of the local carpenters. Barnabas had wanted the work done quickly therefore rather than tutor Willie on the work himself, a large crew was hired. They had completed the electrical wiring in record time. Willie ran his hands over the wood of the new floor to ceiling bookshelves that covered the two interior walls. An unusually loud sound disrupted his appreciation. The irritating noise raised and the stopped then raised into the room again, filling it. With mild surprise, Willie realized it was the ringing of the telephone which sat on the floor. The phone had been there for several days and it had rung several times but he still could not fit the device into his perception of the Old House.

“Barnabas Collins residence.” Willie offered. “Ah, yea? Julia it sounds like you are just next door, what a great connection. . . .nah, he ain’t here right now. . .he is in town with David and Roger. Picking up the new light fixtures and then going to the Café’ for dinner. Yea, you ain’t gonna believe the place when you see it, lights, telephones, indoor plumbing. . . Julia, you all right? Geez, no, I’m sorry, I hadn’t heard. Was he real sick? Oh. . .sudden, yea that’s real sudden, I’m sorry. . . I’ll tell Barnabas to call you, the same number? . . .Julia, sure, again, I’m real sorry to hear but I’ll have Barnabas call as soon as he returns. Bye.”

Barnabas sat with Roger and David in the small café on the brick lined street of Collinsport. He watched the golden and red leaves fall to the ground and blow in whirlwinds out into the street. He always liked autumn, the colors, the crisp air.

“So when are you gonna get a tv Barnabas?” David asked. When Barnabas did not respond, he repeated his question.

“I apologize, David, what did you ask?”

David repeated the question for a third time.

“I shall not be purchasing that anytime soon.” Barnabas replied with disdain.

“That is a smart idea, you become too easily transfixed by that contraption.” Roger added.

“You like tv!” David protested.

“I am amused by it, tolerate it and yes, I do like some of it but not much.”

“He loves Gunsmoke.” David informed Barnabas.

“Gunsmoke?” Barnabas slowly asked.

David responded enthusiastically. “Good buys, bad buys, guns, the Old West, you know.”

Barnabas frowned. He did not know and he was not certain that he did want to know. It was one thing to embrace modern efficiencies but he was not willing to embrace the vapid 20th century culture. He had seen enough of the ‘talking motion pictures’ and rock ‘n roll music to last him. He still could not bear the music Julia enjoyed and played in the basement during her late nights. Willie had laughed when Barnabas called Julia’s music loud, unmelodic and irritating. Julia’s musical tastes ran from the Big Band era to early Frank Sinatra, she even enjoyed some of the early rock ‘n roll, mostly Motown and girl groups. Willie had thought that quite progressive of her but Barnabas had thought it barbaric. However, he had heard one song recently that he tolerated and knew Julia enjoyed. “Who are the Flamingos?”

“A flamingo is a bird.” David responded with his emerging know- it-all teenage attitude.

Roger looked at his son disapprovingly. “I am sure Barnabas knows that a flamingo is a bird.”

“I heard a song on Julia’s radio the other day, I actually did like it. The man said it was by the “Flamingos”.

“How did it go?” Roger inquired.

Barnabas shook his head. “I do not have a singing voice for modern tunes. . .but the words started out, My love must be a kind of blind love, I can’t see anyone but you. Are the stars out tonight? I do not know if it’s cloudy or bright—“

“I only have eyes for you.” Roger modestly sang out. “The moon may be high, but I can’t see a thing in the sky. I only have eyes for you.”

David laughed. “Wow, Dad you have a good singing voice.”

Roger nodded. “I sang with a quartet when in college. That song was quite popular about thirteen years ago. Not in my quartet days but it is quite a sublime piece of music.” Roger looked up as the waiter delivered their meals. “Why did it strike you Barnabas?”

“For a modern song, it was, as you said, sublime, melodic and lovely. Julia enjoys it.” Barnabas eyed his dinner skeptically but was thankful to be away from Willie’s experiments.

Roger nodded. “Yes, most women respond to that song.”

“Girls today think David Cassidy is sublime. . .” David commented.

Roger grumbled. “That long haired no talent, he’s riding his father’s coattails.”

Barnabas consumed his meal while Roger and David debated the merits of David Cassidy’s music. After several minutes of neither father nor son seeing one another’s view, David sighed loudly and slumped into his chair. He avoided his Father’s triumphant smile by looking about the café. In the corner, he noted a familiar face and knew instinctively that the man was interested in him and his family. The gray-eyed stranger stared directly at David. David sat in a motionless state for several minutes before he heard his father.

“David, your dinner is getting cold.” Roger tapped David’s plate with a fork.

David leaned forward. “Father, that man is staring at us.”

“People in this town always stare at us. I suggest you get used to it.”

David shook his head. “No, he’s not from here. I’ve seen him before.” David frowned again as he tried to remember where he had seen the gray eyed stranger. As he blatantly stared at the man, a quick gesture by the observed, flickered David’s memory. “He’s the one who Julia was talking to when she almost lost her plane tickets!” The mere mention of someone unusual in association with Julia caused Barnabas’s head to quickly jolt to attention. He leveled a gaze at the man across the room. Their eyes met and neither shrank from the challenge. Several tense moments passed before the stranger slowly stood. Without fanfare or rush, he collected his coat, hat and a book. Then with great deliberation, he crossed the café to stand before the Collins men.

“Barnabas Collins?”

“Yes.”

The man nodded. “I am Jeannot Roussin.”

Barnabas gestured to the table. “These are my cousins Roger and David Collins.” He grinned politely. “I am sorry but you have me at a disadvantage, you seem to know me but I do not recall our introduction.”

Jeannot Roussin’s frozen smile revealed nothing. “We have not met but my wife knows you.”

“Your wife?” Barnabas asked in sincere confusion.

“Yes, my wife.” Roussin nodded. “She knows you from a long time ago, a very long time ago.”

Barnabas tried not to change his expression. The emphasis Roussin had laid on ‘very long time ago’ alerted him to an unspoken knowledge. Who could his wife have been? “Shall I again be making her acquaintance again soon?”

“I am certain you will run across one another.” Roussin abruptly turned from the table and headed toward the door. Before he exited, he began humming a tune, a refrain that pierced Barnabas’s heart.

“That was certainly odd.” Roger watched the man walk across the street and disappear into other parts of Collinsport.

David looked up to see that Barnabas could not hide his distress. “How did he know that music?”

Barnabas moved his head from side to side. “I am not certain.”

Roger stood to assure himself that the odd fellow was gone. “You mean that humming, what melody was it?”

“Josette’s, the one from her music box.” Barnabas whispered.

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.