“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.