After several long minutes of struggling to get air, Lilly’s chest finally loosened and she stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed into it, her face smeared with tears and sweat. Her vision grew blurry and she closed her eyes. She was exhausted and wanted to disappear into sleep, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. She needed to come up with a plan, she needed to get out of there and go home.
Maybe this afternoon, when the circus opened and Merrick and Glory left the car to go to work, she could sneak out and follow the railroad tracks in the other direction, toward Blackwood Manor. She had no idea how long it would take to walk home, but she didn’t care. Maybe she could steal some food and a blanket, and sleep in the woods at night. At least it wasn’t winter. She pictured herself crossing her parents’ fields and walking across the lawn, marching up the steps and knocking on the front door. Daddy would answer, surprised and happy to see her. Momma might be mad at first, but if Lilly promised to be good, promised to stop asking for things she couldn’t have, and promised to memorize the Bible and say her prayers every night, maybe Momma would let her stay. Then she thought of something else and started to tremble.
What if Daddy wasn’t happy to see her? What if he knew all along Momma was going to sell her to the circus? After all, he let Momma lock her in the attic. If he really loved her, he wouldn’t have done that. And what if he really “wasn’t long for this world”? What if he really was dying?
The thought made her feel like she was falling off a cliff, her arms and legs limp and useless, her hair fluttering around her face and head. She buried her face in a pillow and sobbed.
Glory knelt beside her. “It’s all right, go ahead and cry. You have every right to be sad and mad and scared and all of those things. It’s not fair what your momma did to you. When my parents dropped Viktor off at the asylum, I was six and he was five, but, God help me, I remember thinking how glad I was that they were leaving him there instead of me. Because he was crying so hard and I—”
Merrick slammed his glass on the sideboard. “For Christ’s sake, Glory,” he snarled. “Quit your blubbering. The show starts in an hour and you need to get ready.”
Glory got to her feet, wiping her palms on her skirt. “Don’t you think it’d be okay if I sit this one out? Others have missed shows before. I should stay here with Lilly and—”
With that, Merrick flew across the room and slapped her hard across the face. She staggered backward and nearly fell but managed to stay on her feet. Lilly sat up, breathing hard. Glory put her hand to her cheek and gaped at Lilly, her eyes wide with shame and fear. Then, without a word, she hung her head and went into the other room.
“You better be getting your things together!” Merrick yelled. He went over to the sideboard and poured himself another drink. Lilly watched from the sofa, her fingers digging into the cushions.
A moment later, Glory came out of the other room with what looked like a miniature suitcase in one hand. A red mark in the shape of a handprint colored her cheek and she gazed at Lilly with glassy eyes. “I’ll be back as soon as the show is over. I’m sorry. I can’t stay.”
Lilly wanted Glory to stay more than anything, but there was nothing she could do. She watched her leave, then curled up in a corner of the sofa, wondering what would happen next. Merrick locked the door behind Glory and disappeared into the other room. Somewhere a door opened and closed. Lilly held her breath and listened. Was there another way out of the car in the other room? The only things she heard were the violent thud of her heart and what sounded like water running. She got up, tiptoed across the room, and tried the door that led outside, even though she knew it was locked. She tried the windows. It was no use. Everything was bolted shut. She sat down again and tried to think.
Then the door in the other room opened and closed again, and Merrick whistled as he moved about in there. A few minutes later, he came out in a suit and tie, his hair slicked back from his cratered face. The smell of shoe polish and cologne filled the room, reminding Lilly of Daddy. Merrick poured another drink, came over to the sofa, stood over her, and grinned. She swallowed and pushed her back into the cushions.
“You and I are going to make a lot of money together,” he said. “But right now, I’ve got to get over to the sideshow.” He swallowed the contents of his glass and headed for the door.
As she watched him go, the tightness left Lilly’s shoulders. After he left, maybe she could pound on a window to get someone’s attention, or break it and crawl out. Then Merrick realized his glass was still in his hand and went over to set it on the sideboard. She tensed again and, before she knew what was happening, he rushed toward her, clawed hands outstretched. She screeched and tried to scramble off the sofa, but he clamped his fingers into her upper arms and dragged her into the other room. She thrashed and kicked and clawed, but couldn’t get away.
He hauled her past a chair piled with clothes and a bed covered with tangled blankets, then opened a wooden door and shoved her into a small room. She stumbled and fell between a wall and a toilet, and he slammed the door, casting the room into blackness. A horrible stench filled her nostrils and she gagged. She got to her feet and pounded on the door, screaming for him to let her out.
“Sorry, kid,” he said through the wood. “But the show must go on.”
CHAPTER 8
JULIA The morning after her return to Blackwood Manor, Julia woke with a start, her head bent at an odd angle against the arm of the overstuffed couch. At first, she didn’t know where she was. Then she recognized the marble fireplace and the ornate tin ceiling of her late parents’ living room. Now the living room, the entire house in fact, belonged to her. It felt surreal and a bit unsettling. She sat up, stretched, and rubbed her stiff neck. The room was cold and gray, and she could almost see her breath. Sometime during the night the fire had gone out. She stood, walked over to the windows, and pushed back the velvet curtains. Warm shafts of sunlight burst through the glass, illuminating the dusty air and creating blocks of light on the red Persian rug. A strong wind pushed against the window frame and creaked against the panes. Mother’s dead rosebushes scratched along the sill.