Glory led her over to a bucket, picked up a cloth and a bar of soap from a table, and knelt down. She dunked the cloth and soap into the bucket and slowly made a move to wash Lilly’s face. Lilly drew away, her chin to her chest.
“It’s all right,” Glory said. “I’m just going to clean you up a little.”
Lilly stared at Glory. Why wasn’t she afraid? Was it because she looked different too?
Glory sighed, then smiled and held out the cloth. Lilly slowly reached out and took it, then rubbed it over her face. It felt good.
“Are you doing okay?” Glory said. “I know this is a big change and it all must seem so scary.”
Lilly clenched her jaw to keep her chin from trembling and shrugged.
“Did Merrick really save you from an orphanage?”
Lilly wasn’t sure what an orphanage was, but she shook her head anyway.
“A hospital?”
Lilly shook her head again.
“Did he take you from your daddy?”
Lilly’s eyes flooded. She shook her head a third time.
Glory frowned. “Where did he get you, then?” She took the rag, rinsed it, and handed it back to Lilly. “Can you tell me?”
“He . . .” she managed. “He gave Momma money and Momma left me with him.”
Glory gasped. “He bought you?”
Lilly nodded.
“He bought you from your mother?” Glory’s face grew as red as the ink heart on her neck. “But why would she—” She put trembling fingers over her lips.
Lilly shrugged one shoulder and started to cry.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” She reached for Lilly again, but Lilly took a step back.
Glory dropped her arms and gave her a weak but sad smile. “It’s all right,” she said. “I understand. You don’t have to let me hug you. As a matter of fact, you don’t have to let anyone hug you, or even touch you. If someone tries, you run away as fast as you can. Then tell me, okay?”
Lilly nodded and blinked back her tears, wondering if she should tell Glory about Merrick hitting her with a whip. Momma always warned her not to tell Daddy when she punished her, or the next time would be worse. If Merrick found out she told Glory he hit her, it might be the same. Lilly took the cloth again and washed the dirt off her arms and legs.
“We need to get you out of that filthy dress,” Glory said. She straightened, went over to a trunk, and lifted the lid. “You can borrow one of Tina’s dresses until the Monday man can get you some of your own. She won’t mind.” She pulled out a simple blue dress with puffy sleeves and a white belt. “This one should work. Do you need help putting it on?”
Lilly shook her head and took the dress. She unbuttoned the collar of the one she was wearing, then stopped and glanced at the tent door. What if someone came in and saw her naked?
“Don’t worry,” Glory said. “Everyone’s headed to the cookhouse for breakfast.”
Lilly gazed up at her and waited.
“Oh, sorry,” Glory said, turning around. “Let me know when you’re done.”
Lilly took off her dress and let it fall to the ground. It was her favorite, the only thing she had left from home, and now it was ruined. She slipped the clean one over her head, pushed her arms through the sleeves, then realized she couldn’t reach the top buttons in the back. If Glory helped with the buttons, she might see the marks from Merrick’s whip. Maybe she wouldn’t realize it was unbuttoned.
“I’m done,” Lilly said in a small voice.
Glory spun around to face her. “Aw, look at you! And it’s a perfect fit. Can I button up the back?”
Lilly glanced at the ground.
Glory knelt down and smiled at her. “It’s all right. You can trust me.”
Lilly clasped her hands into fists and turned around. Maybe Glory wouldn’t see the marks. Hopefully, they weren’t bleeding.
With gentle fingers, Glory started to fasten the first button. Then she stopped and gasped. “Who did this to you?”
Lilly closed her eyes. Lying was a sin, but right now she didn’t care. “Momma,” she said.
Glory went quiet and finished buttoning the back of the dress. When Lilly turned around, Glory’s eyes were glassy.
“Listen,” Glory said. “You have to do what Merrick says, okay?”
Lilly nodded. But how did Glory know it was Merrick who left the marks on her back?
“Promise me,” Glory said. “You’ll do what he says from now on.”
“Okay.”
Glory gave her a weak smile and stood. Lilly gazed up at her. She wanted to ask her a question but didn’t know if she should.
“What?” Glory said. “You look like you want to say something.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course, anything.”
“How come you’re not afraid of me?”
Glory frowned, her head moving back slightly. “What are you talking about? Why on earth would I be afraid of you?”
Lilly scuffed a shoe across the grass.
Glory knelt again. “What is it, sweetheart? You can tell me. We’re friends, remember?”
Lilly lifted her chin and looked at Glory. “Momma said I’m an abomination. She said I’d make everyone sick and scared, that’s why I had to hide.” Her voice trembled. “Because I’m a monster and I’m cursed.”
Glory pressed her lips together. Then she tried to smile, but tears filled her eyes instead. “Oh, honey. You’re not a monster. Far from it. And you’re not cursed. I hate to tell you this, but your mother wasn’t telling the truth.”
“But Momma says lying is a sin.”
Glory got to her feet again. “Come here, I want to show you something.” She started toward the mirrors.
Lilly couldn’t move. Her hands grew clammy and she started to tremble. All those nights, all those hours, staring into the window glass trying to see her face, and now all she wanted to do was run and hide. What if Momma was right and she really was a monster? What if the sight of her own face made her scream? What if she looked like Viktor? She touched her tongue to her teeth—one, two, three, four, five—and tried to think. If she had a third eye, she would have felt it on her forehead. If her mouth was twisted or her nose was split in two pieces, she would have felt that too. Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to look in a mirror. Her mouth felt dry as dirt.
“It’s all right,” Glory said. “I promise.”
Lilly kept her eyes lowered so she wouldn’t see herself in the mirror before she was ready, and slowly followed Glory over to a dressing table filled with colored feathers, combs, brushes, earrings, necklaces, and glass bottles of all shapes and sizes. She counted the bottles to try to calm down. One, two, three, four, five. It didn’t help. Her lungs grew tight. She couldn’t breathe. She put a hand on her chest, the muscles in her neck loosening and tightening as she struggled for air.
Glory knelt in front of her. “It’s all right,” she said in a soothing voice. “Just relax and try to breathe slowly. Take a really deep breath and let it out, like this.” She inhaled deeply and blew out a long, slow breath. “The same thing happens to one of my friends when she gets scared too. Just look at me and you’ll be okay.”
Lilly fixed her eyes on Glory and tried doing what she said. After six or seven breaths, her lungs loosened and her throat opened up. Her thundering heart slowed. Finally, she could get air without choking.
“Better?” Glory said.
Lilly nodded.
“Do you trust me now? Are we friends?”
Lilly nodded again.
“How about you turn around and let me fix your hair, then?”
Lilly thought about it for a moment. She couldn’t remember the last time Momma had washed her hair, let alone combed or even touched it. And when Momma did her hair, she always pulled. But for some reason, Lilly didn’t think Glory would be that rough. She turned, her hands in fists at her sides, and waited for Glory to touch her head.
With gentle fingers, Glory
gathered Lilly’s hair in one hand and, using a brush from the dressing table, worked out the snarls and bits of hay. It felt strange and strangely pleasant to have another person touch her hair, to feel the pull and tug of someone else’s movements on her scalp. Goose bumps rippled across her skin and her heartbeat slowed. With the dirt and tangles out, Glory brushed her hair away from her face and fluffed the sides and top with her fingers. When she was finished, she moved in front of Lilly and smiled, one hand on her hip.
“Ready?” she said.
Lilly took a deep breath and nodded.
“Close your eyes and turn around.”
Lilly squeezed her eyes shut and turned to face the mirror.
“Okay, open them,” Glory said.
Lilly counted, curling and uncurling her fingers—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten—then opened her eyes and, ever so slowly, raised her head to look in the mirror. When she saw her reflection, she drew in a sharp breath.
Looking back at her was a young girl with flawless skin, winter-white hair, and eyes the color of a summer sky. The only mark on her face was a small indent on her chin, from the time Momma pushed her and she fell into her bedframe. Her lips were such a light pink they were nearly invisible, and her lashes and brows looked dusted with snow. The navy blue dress looked black against her milk-colored skin. Lilly leaned forward and touched the mirror. Was it some kind of trick? But the girl in the mirror moved too, and their identical, pale fingers touched, tip to tip, on the glass. The color of their skin matched perfectly. But there was something else in her reflection too. Something that shook her to the core.
She looked like a doll.
A beautiful, perfect doll.
She wasn’t a monster.
She wasn’t an abomination.
She wouldn’t have made anyone sick.
Momma had lied. And Daddy had too.
She stared at herself for a long time, tears flooding her eyes. Why had Momma kept her locked in the attic? And why had Daddy gone along with it? Did they hate her because God forgot to give her a color? Was it really that horrible? If they were only trying to protect her, why didn’t they let her go downstairs? Why didn’t they spend time with her? Why didn’t they hug and kiss her? Like Momma said, no one in the circus cared what she looked like. So why did she? Why did Daddy? Why did the two people who were supposed to love her more than anything keep her hidden from the world? Were they afraid? Were they ashamed? Were they evil? Overcome, she put her face in her hands and collapsed on the ground, shoulders convulsing. Glory knelt beside her.
“See, honey,” she said. “You’re not a monster. Quite the opposite.”
Sobs hitched in Lilly’s chest. “But I don’t understand,” she cried. “What’s wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfectly normal except for the color of your skin. That’s all. And guess what? There are other people just like you. They’re called albinos.”
Lilly looked up, her chin trembling. “There are other people like me?”
Glory smiled and nodded. “I met someone like you a few years ago at Ringling Brothers. But she wasn’t anywhere near as pretty as you. She said her skin was missing something that gave it color and she was born with the condition, just like you were. I can’t remember what the something was called, but other than being really pale and having to avoid the sun, she was perfectly fine.”
Lilly’s face crumpled in on itself. “So why would Momma and Daddy . . .” She couldn’t go on. Her grief was like a shroud she couldn’t see through. It made it impossible to think straight. She wanted to lie down and go to sleep, to make this nightmare go away.
Glory took a handkerchief from the dresser and gave it to her. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but I can see why Merrick wanted you. You’re perfect, like a life-sized porcelain doll.”
“What does he want me for?”
Glory stroked Lilly’s hair. “Let me tell you a little story. When I was eleven, I ran away from home to join the circus. Of course I had to earn my keep, so for the first few years I worked for Josephine, cleaning her sleeper car, sewing costumes, basically being her slave. Then, when I got older, Merrick gave me these tattoos and let me work for him in the sideshow. That’s when I asked him to help my brother, who my parents had sent to a horrible place. He was locked up, just like you were. But Merrick got him out and saved his life, and I’ll never be able to repay him for that. Now Viktor is one of our biggest attractions, and I’m . . .” She paused and furrowed her brow, as if rethinking what she was about to say. Then she sighed and went on. “What I’m trying to tell you is Merrick sees something in you, Lilly. That’s why he bought you from your momma. He thinks he can make you a star. He thinks everyone is going to love you.”
“I don’t want to be a star,” Lilly cried. “I just want to go home to my cat.”
“I know,” Glory said. “But this is your home now, remember?”
Lilly buried her face in her hands and cried harder.
CHAPTER 6
JULIA
The trees surrounding Blackwood Manor were black and bare, making the estate look even grayer. The house seemed as overpowering as it did the day Julia left, grim and bulky, the color of the winter sky. It was a Victorian, neo-Gothic four-story, with mullioned windows, attic dormers, three chimneys, and a steep mansard roof. Dirty drifts of melting snow and dead leaves lined the stone foundation, edged the hedgerow between the yard and the back woods, and trailed the fences around the horse barn.
Julia climbed out of the taxi and took slow, calming breaths. The damp air smelled of mud and fungus, hay and horse manure. Just like she remembered. Had it really been three years since she left? It felt like yesterday. She wore pink pants and a tight sweater today, in defiance of her dead mother and the somber house. But now, she felt foolish. The cab driver opened the trunk, gave Julia her suitcase, then drove away and left her standing in the driveway.
The windows of the house were blank, reflecting the naked trees all around. The trees seemed taller and scragglier. Maybe they needed to be trimmed. Was she already thinking of things that needed doing? The house was hers now, all twelve bedrooms, the soaring ceilings, the grand staircases, the huge kitchen with flagstones worn smooth by passing feet. It was hers, but only if she stayed. That was what Mother wanted, and even in death, she demanded her way. And yet, Julia couldn’t help wondering if this was a test. If she didn’t stay, everything would be sold off and the money sent to charity. But while she wasn’t sure she could live in the manor for the rest of her life, there was plenty of land and plenty of money to build a new house. It gave her a strange sense of satisfaction to know that, as much as Mother tried, she couldn’t control everything.
She stared up at the estate, wondering what she would do with all that space. Would the rooms seem empty and quiet, or would they groan under the weight of bad memories? She pictured Mother’s crystal in the dining room buffet, sparkling in the light of the chandelier. She pictured her father’s whiskey bottles, lined up on a sideboard in his den. As a child, she had snuck into the den and peered into the mysterious decanters and flasks, trying to understand why her father found the liquid inside so appealing. She’d even pulled out the stoppers to take a sniff. But then Mother caught her, and she never went into the den again, or anyplace else in the house she wasn’t allowed to go. A good whipping with a willow branch had a way of reminding you to do as you’re told.
Now she could go wherever she wanted—into her father’s den, into the third-floor bedrooms, into the attic and barn. With the cab gone, there was only silence. Silence from the trees and the house. Silence from the barn and fields. Where were the horses?
She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. The house looked like it was waiting patiently, anticipating the moment when it could swallow her whole. Had she made a mistake? What was she going to do out here all alone, a good two miles from the nearest neighbor? And how in the world was she going to run a horse far
m when her parents had never let her into the barn, let alone talked to her about the business? Then she remembered she had money, lots of it, and she could pay someone else to take care of the horses. Besides, she couldn’t go back to Big Al’s and her dingy little room above the liquor store. She couldn’t go back to stealing, or being abused by Tom. She felt bad for leaving him without saying good-bye, but when she came home from work the day she got the letter, he was passed out on the couch after another bender. In the end it was for the best. She didn’t have to explain and she didn’t have to lie. And now she was free of him for good. She picked up her suitcase, wrapped her fingers around the front door key in her coat pocket, and strode toward Blackwood Manor, determined to make the best of whatever lay ahead.
Inside, the manor somehow seemed smaller than she remembered, but it was still enormous. The foyer alone was five times the size of her room above the liquor store. The house felt cold and damp, and she wondered if there were still rats in the attic. Mother and Father always denied the infestation, but growing up she had heard them at night, scurrying between rooms and in ceilings, scratching and gnawing on old plaster and rotted wood. The sounds of the old house had always kept her awake—beams creaking and shifting, pipes knocking and moaning—and her vivid young mind imagined someone, or something, living behind the walls.
She dropped her suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and drifted toward the kitchen, her footsteps echoing on the wood floors. She hadn’t eaten since last night and now she was starving. After the attorney found out she had agreed to take over the estate, he called Claude, the barn manager, to have groceries delivered. Too bad Claude hadn’t turned up the furnace too.
The smells of her childhood rushed back to her as she made her way through the house: lemoned oak, stone floors and wood fires, dusty furniture and silver polish. She passed the formal dining room and pictured Mother perched like a queen at the head of the table, casting a cold glare at anyone who dared slurp their soup or interrupt while she was talking. In the living room, moldy ashes lingered in the grates of the fireplace, and the familiar red tin of matches sat in the same spot on the mantel. A pair of reading glasses rested on an open book on the end table next to Mother’s favorite wingback chair, as if she had just set them down and gone upstairs to take a nap. Suddenly, being alone in the house made Julia uneasy, as if she might turn and see Mother standing in a doorway, an acid smile on her wrinkled face, her hair tinted gold.
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