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WILL YOU DANCE WITH ME,
SADIE HAWKINS?
By
Pheebee
Barnabas Collins had just entered the Grand Foyer and was hanging up his caped coat. He'd had no intention of eavesdropping. Truly, he hadn't. But he'd have been less than human--well, something like that, anyway--had he not paused to listen when he heard the conversation that was taking place in the drawing room.
It had been Carolyn's clear tones that first caught his ear. "But Julia, you have to invite someone to the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance--everyone will be there, and well, you just have to attend."
"Why should I *have* to attend, Carolyn? Is it against some law I'm unaware of for a woman to prefer not to attend the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance?"
"Oh, Julia, of course it's not against any law. But--"
Barnabas could visualize his young cousin's shrug in the short silence.
"--Well, you know. Everyone will be going. I'm sure Barnabas is expecting you to ask him..."
"No," Julia said firmly.
"I just don't understand you, Julia. What I mean, is, well, you're a woman doctor, the first we've ever had here in Collinsport, you deny there's anything a woman can't do simply because she's a woman, and yet this dance, the one time when no one thinks twice about a woman asking a man out, well, you're not even planning to attend?"
"That's correct," Julia answered, her voice coming closer to partially open double doors. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Barnabas was supposed to be coming over to work on the history with me. I don't know what's keeping him--"
Swiftly, Barnabas stepped back into the entryway and opened the door, allowing the February night air to swirl through the foyer then he moved forward again, as though only now hanging up his cape. He turned just as the two women exited the drawing room. "Ah, Julia. Are you ready to look through those papers I mentioned?" Not waiting for a response, he turned to his cousin, taking her hands in his, "Carolyn, my dear, how are you?" He bent and pressed a kiss on her forehead, wondering, as he always did, how there always seemed to be one diminutive female Collins per generation.
"I'm fine, Cousin Barnabas. But I'm not sure about Julia. I think she has a st--"
"Barnabas," Elizabeth said, as she hurried down the stairs, clearly aware that Carolyn was about to say something impolite and determined to prevent her. "It's so good to see you. It seems like ages since you've graced us with your presence."
"Elizabeth," Barnabas bowed to her in his courtly manner.
"Mother, do you know that Julia doesn't intend to go to the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance? Can't you make her understand that it's almost sacrilege for a single woman not to attend?"
"Carolyn, how can I make you understand? There's nothing empowering about inviting a man to a dance held once every four years for that express purpose. If a woman is truly equal, she should feel free to ask a man out any time she chooses, not wait for some mythical holiday to do so."
Elizabeth tipped her head slightly to the side. "You know, I imagine that's true, Julia, but I'm a bit older than you. I remember very clearly when no 'nice' woman would even think of doing such a thing. The first time the town held the Sadie Hawkins day--well, my girlfriends and I became quite giddy. I still remember the nervousness I felt when I approached the young man of my choice. And the dance itself..." She shook her head slowly from side to side. "It was like magic, Julia."
"I believe Mother has already invited someone to this year's dance," Carolyn said with a knowing smile.
Julia looked at Elizabeth, shocked that the other woman would consider such a thing. "Elizabeth?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Matthew Farnstock. He's the president of that company Roger is negotiating with. Very tall, dark and handsome, not to mention that he's a widower. I intend to enjoy myself on Sadie Hawkins Day."
Julia stared as though the other woman had suddenly grown a second head.
"And I've invited Willie," Carolyn told her brightly.
Julia shook her head. "I--I can't quite believe the two of you. Carolyn, surely you know that Willie would be more than glad to go out with you any night of the week. And you, Elizabeth--"
"Don't bother saying it, Julia. I know, I know. But there are things, social mores, that are difficult to contravene. This way I get to dance with Matthew Farnstock and neither of us will feel awkward about my having done the asking."
Barnabas decided it was time to intervene before Julia's eyes popped directly out of their sockets. "Julia--if you don't mind. I'd like to get started on those papers. It has been a long day and--" He'd long ago learned how to insinuate he'd done more than sleep in a coffin all day.
"Yes, yes of course. Where did you want to work on them?"
"I thought in the study, if that's all right with you, Elizabeth?"
"Of course," the matriarch of the Collins' clan said graciously. "You know you have the run of the house, Barnabas."
* * *
"Do you truly not wish to attend the dance?" Barnabas inquired cautiously a few hours later when Julia had declared she had to take a break from trying to decipher his relatives' curlicued penmanship and unique spelling or she'd be certain to go blind.
"Et tu, Barnabas?" she answered wryly.
"I am aware that you like to dance," he replied. "It seems odd that you would avoid the occasion to do so simply to make a point..."
"Barnabas, if you could hear the women of this town--that foolish dance is the only thing they're talking about. Even the intelligent ones like Elizabeth. And the men, they're just as bad if not worse. The whole thing is absurd. No matter how much I enjoy dancing, you couldn't pay me to put in an appearance at that affair."
"I see," he said thoughtfully. And he did. See, that is. He saw that she truly did consider it foolishness. And that she wished she could simply forget about being the intellectual female doctor in town, let down her hair--figuratively speaking, as she had cut it short again in that beguiling pixie-ish style--and go to the dance. But she wouldn't. It was a matter of principle...and a matter of pride. He wondered what she would do if he were to let it be known that he'd been hoping she would invite him to attend the dance, then thought better of it. In her present mood she'd simply snap his nose off. Better to let it go. There would be other occasions to dance with her...
"Are you ready to tackle this next letter?" she asked.
"The next letter--" Suddenly he had no desire to struggle through yet another of his relatives' missives. "Do you know, I find that I am rather fatigued this evening, Julia. If you don't mind, perhaps we could shelve this until another day? I'd rather like to take a walk in the garden. If it's not too cold for you, that is? I know it is 'warm' for February, but the wind was picking up when I arrived..."
"Do you feel ill, Barnabas?" she inquired, her medical instincts taking over immediately.
"How could I be ill, Julia? Vampires do not catch colds or other 'bugs,'" he reminded her.
"No, but as I recall, you said you were ill after the last injection in 1897. We're getting close to that point, therefore--"She reached for his hand, placing her fingers over the pulse point in his wrist.
He slipped his hand out of hers, stood, pulled her to her feet as well. The thought of her soft, competent hands touching him, examining him--once he had complied reluctantly, shrunk from her touch, but somewhere in the years they'd been together in this odd relationship he'd come to welcome it, indeed, relish it.
Resolutely, he put the longing for her touch from him. "No, Doctor. I am not ill. I am weary of my prosy relatives. Now, do you think it is too cold, or shall we go for a walk?"
She hooked her hand through his arm, looked up at him, her eyes glowing emerald in the light from the study lamp they'd been using, a wide, infectious smile transforming her sometimes austere features. "They are a prosy lot, aren't they?"
* * *
One of the more minor irritations of life--he felt the urge to snort, as Julia sometimes did, at his use of the word 'life'--as a vampire was that when one retired for the day there were no dreams, no interlude between nighttime consciousness and the deathlike state that overtook one, no time for the relaxing mind to work out problems that had irritated one during the day. One was awake, conscious, aware and then--one wasn't.
Barnabas Collins rose this evening knowing that Julia would be arriving shortly--if she wasn't already here...No, he'd know if she were in the house, he realized. He'd long ago become attuned to her presence. He sent out a tendril of thought toward her consciousness--not the same as he could have done had he ever tasted her blood, but a sort of familial homing beacon, seeking her location. If she was close to the Old House--but yes, she was on the path, nearing the house. He hadn't much time.
"Willie? Willie! Where are you, Willie?"
Willie bounded down the stairs--"Barnabas? You all right? You, uh, need somethin'? I got a fresh suit laid out for ya an' I picked up your shirts at the laundry. Oh, and the cleaner got that stain outta your grey suit--ya know, the one from when Carolyn tripped and spilled her drink on ya. And--"
"Willie, be quiet. Julia will be here shortly. There isn't much time. I have several errands I need you to carry out." He hurried to the lab table where Julia worked. Sure enough, he found a ball-point pen and a pad of lined paper. He sat down and began writing rapidly in his ornate script.
"Uh, yeah, sure, Barnabas. What, uh--"
Barnabas thrust the paper at him. Willie scanned the lines, shook his head. "Barnabas?"
"I am entrusting this to you, Willie. As you can see, there are things which can only be done during the daylight hours."
"Uh, yeah. Sure. I uh, see what ya mean. Okay. I c'n take care of this stuff for ya." He turned, started to leave, halted when Barnabas spoke again.
"One last thing, Willie. Or two, rather. First, everything must be ready by Saturday night. Second, on no account must you tell anyone, particularly Julia about any of this." Barnabas peered into his eyes. "Do you understand?"
For some reason the way Barnabas was looking at him made a chill run through the younger man. Julia had said that Barnabas was nearing the end of the treatments, that he would be a normal person again soon. But this list reminded Willie of the errands he'd run years ago when Barnabas had been chasin' after Maggie... "Uh. Yeah. Sure, Barnabas," he said, a cold knot forming in his stomach. What the hell was goin' on?
* * *
"Carolyn," Barnabas called. His young cousin turned, startled to hear his voice from behind a tree as she pulled assorted bags and packages from her car. "Might I have a word with you?"
"Of course, Barnabas. Why don't you come inside with me. I'll make some coffee and we can go have a comfy chat in the drawing room."
"No, no, I'd rather not remain too long. I have a number of things I must accomplish and little time. However, I will help you inside with your packages. Have you been shopping for something special?"
She smiled up at him as she allowed him to take the majority of her encumbrances. "Oh, yes, Barnabas. I bought the most wonderful dress for the dance. Willie is just going to--well, let's just say I think he's going to like the way it looks on me."
Barnabas smiled. He knew for a fact that his young cousin could wear anything or nothing and it would have equal effect on Willie. The poor boy was like a deer in the headlights when she was around. "Indeed. It's about the dance that I wished to speak with you. As you know, Julia does not intend to attend..."
* * *
On Saturday night, Julia dressed carefully for her trip to the Old House but her thoughts were in a jumble. Barnabas had invited her to dine with him before they resumed work on the family history--not that he'd eat much, but he was a pleasant companion who knew how to converse at the dinner table and she knew that the pretense of dining (with a companion who wouldn't comment on his lack of appetite) provided him with a semblance of normality. She chided herself for worrying about her appearance even as she pulled on the velvet tunic to her black pantsuit and put pearls on her ears and around her neck. He never paid any attention to the way she looked. She knew that as a vampire his senses weren't the same as a human's. His hearing was incredible, his vision clear but monotonal. Color meant little to him. Still, she wanted to look nice...
Her thoughts moved to that odd shopping trip with Carolyn. There was something going on, she knew it. But she couldn't for the life of her discern what it was...
Her thoughts grasshoppered back to the shops and that green velvet dress she'd tried on. Not that she'd any intention of purchasing a special occasion dress. But Carolyn had been in such an odd mood, her dress for the dance already purchased days ago and hanging in her bedroom at Collinwood, when she came to the conclusion that the sapphire velvet with the scatter of rhinestones had perhaps not been quite the right choice. She'd been so tense and strained, begging, no, virtually insisting that Julia accompany her back to the shop.
Julia had given in, finally, if only to get Carolyn to leave her alone. It hadn't worked, however. In the shop, Carolyn had been even more persistent, having the saleswoman bring out a number of dresses in both her own and Julia's sizes, then insisting Julia try them on. Julia had expected to be gone only an hour or so but had found herself tied up for the entire afternoon, almost into the evening.
It had all been very odd, Julia thought, almost as though Carolyn had been trying to keep her away from the estate, but that made no sense. Besides, sometimes Carolyn *was* odd. It seemed to be part of her genetic makeup. Of course, God knew, the Collinses were all a little odd at times so she'd certainly come by it honestly...
Now she had to hurry if she wasn't to be late for Barnabas' invitation. Shaking her head, Julia slipped on a pair of black pumps--higher than her usual heels, but the silky palazzo pants were a trifle long and besides, sometimes she just liked to feel a little taller when she was around Barnabas. A final glance in the mirror left her feeling pleased with her appearance. But she couldn't help thinking about how she'd looked in that green velvet dress. No, if she was honest, what she was really thinking about was what Barnabas would think were he to see her in that dress.
* * *
Willie was just getting into his pickup truck when she pulled into the area Barnabas had designated for parking near the Old House. He gave a quick wave and pulled away in a spray of gravel and crushed shells. Julia smiled as she stepped out of her car. She wondered if she should return to Collinwood--poor Willie might just have a coronary when he saw Carolyn in her new dress. Shaking her head, she walked toward the house where Barnabas stood waiting at the door.
"Julia, I am so glad you came," he said, his voice as soft as silk. "Allow me take your coat." He matched his actions to his words, adding. "You are looking radiant tonight, my dear. Pearls become you."
"Why, thank you, Barnabas," she replied, startled at the compliment. He so seldom seemed to even notice her appearance. Her attention was caught by a scent in the air. There were the usual smells: beeswax from the candles, the sweet scent of woodsmoke from the fireplace, and--flowers, she realized. Glancing around, she spied dozens of fresh flowers. Roses and violets and lilies and orange blossoms and baby's breath in arrangements large and small abounded. Every flat surface seemed to have its floral complement. "Barnabas?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Do you like them?" he asked.
"They're lovely, but..."
He smiled down at her. "I will show you. Come..."
"Wait--your injection," she reminded him as she reached for the medical bag she'd brought in from the car.
"Of course," he said, graciously. Leading her into the drawing room, he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve, then sat patiently while she injected the contents of a prepared syringe into his vein. He waited until she had everything stowed to her satisfaction, then taking her hand, he led her toward the dining room at the rear of the house. As they walked, she became aware of scents other than the flowers, aromas that reminded her of just how long it had been since she'd eaten.
She'd thought he was taking her to the dining room, but he bypassed those doors and led her to another room, one she'd been in only once--the ballroom.
Yes, it truly was a ballroom, which while small in comparison to the one at Collinwood, was a piece of spun sugar perfection, though it had been difficult to tell on her previous visit with only a single candle to light her way and a storm raging outside the tall windows that looked out on the back lawn.
Tonight, though, it was lit with dozens, no, hundreds of tapers--cream-colored ones, she noted, not the blue he usually seemed to prefer. In the light of those hundreds of flames she was able to see a table set for two by the windows, a white jacketed waiter hovering nearby. In the corner, on a small dais, a string quartet played softly.
Again, she looked up at him. "Barnabas? I thought--"
"You thought we were going to have dinner and then work on the fiction we are calling a family history. I decided that I would prefer dinner and dancing to research and writing notes."
"But Barnabas--" she looked around again, thought of the expense he must have gone to, getting this room cleaned and repaired--and she could see that it had been cleaned and repaired, the water stains on the ceiling that she'd noted on her other visit were gone, the polished hardwood floor reflected back the flames of the myriad candles. Now she suspected she understood the reason for Carolyn's feverish need to keep her away from the estate earlier. She'd been at Wyndecliffe every day this week, Barnabas had met her at the great house for his injections. Today, Saturday would have been the only time she'd have been likely to come near the Old House during the daylight hours when there must have been a clutter of trucks and workers scurrying about. "--If you wanted to dance, you had only to say so. I would have gladly gone to the dance with you."
He shook his head as he led her across the floor to the waiting table. "No. It was a Sadie Hawkins Day Dance. The woman had to invite the man. You didn't wish to attend. You felt the whole thing was a farce while I found the concept quite novel. When I was a young man, the very idea would have been anathema. A man, no matter how young, how foolish, how inexperienced, was seen as the leader, the one who would guide his wife and children, making decisions for them. And yet, as I thought about our friendship, our relationship, I realized that you have been leading me for years now, guiding me in this new world I found myself in, caring for me physically and emotionally, inviting me to a life I could never have imagined. I decided that perhaps you were correct and the dance in town was a farce. And yet, I wished to celebrate the concept of Sadie Hawkins. Therefore..." He pulled one of the chairs back from the table, gestured for her to be seated.
The evening passed in a whirl. The food was perfect, and if Barnabas ate sparingly, ate next to nothing, the nearly silent waiter never seemed to notice. They danced to strains old and new, his arms about her, supporting her, leading her, never forcing her and she found herself wondering as she had on other occasions, how he'd learned modern dances, how he could sometimes be so rigid and unbending yet seem bonelessly fluid when moving to music, what he would be like--No, they were friends, nothing more. He'd made that clear so many times. And yet tonight...
The moon rose, enormous in the multipaned windows, then moved up and out of sight and still the quartet played softly, still they danced.
Julia, relaxed and contented in his arms, recognized a tune as one her mother used to hum.
"After the ball is over,
After the break of morn,
After the dancers' leaving,
After the stars are gone;
Many a heart is aching
If you could read them all
Many the hopes that have vanished
After the ball."*
"Is the ball over?" she whispered. Going back to their usual relationship after this evening was certain to leave her heart aching.
"That all depends," he said with a soft chuckle. "The musicians are weary and must go home but the night is still long, dawn is hours away and it is no longer my era but yours, Sadie Hawkins," he murmured, smiling down at her.
"My era," she repeated.
"Yes, a more open and relaxed period, if one believes what one reads."
While they were speaking, the musicians had been packing up their instruments quietly. Now it was only the two of them alone in the ballroom. "You're telling me the ball is in my court," she whispered as she gazed into his dark eyes.
"I am," he said just as softly as he held her tightly to him.
She could feel him pressed against her. That answered questions she'd never dared broach, even in the guise of his physician. "You're reminding me that you don't have to *retire* just yet."
"Yes."
"You're telling me that you would like to make changes in the nature of our relationship," she said, playing for time.
"Very much so. Now it is your turn to tell me something, Sadie Hawkins..."
"Sadie Hawkins..." she repeated. She swallowed, wished that she hadn't had that champagne, even though it had been only one glass and hours ago now. "Take me to your bed, Barnabas. Make love to me until the dawn's light forces you to leave me."
"Only if you will promise to come back to my bed tomorrow night and the night after that and the night after that."`
She swallowed again. "You're talking about a commitment--"
"I am speaking of marriage, Julia. Since our relationship has always been rather backward, I shall be Sadie and do the asking. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife for all eternity?"
"Yes," she whispered. "I will marry you, Barnabas."
Without another word, Barnabas Collins swept her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom, leaving the empty ballroom and a million guttering candles for Willie to deal with in the morning.
THE END
*After the Ball by Charles K. Harris