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.