Lilly stood frozen, a bulge of terror rising in her mind. Momma had been right after all. She made them sick. They hated her. They thought she was an abomination.
One of the girls began to laugh again, a lone, almost frightened, sound. Lilly opened her eyes and shrank back, cowering in disgust and shame. Then the others joined in, the girls giggling, the boys snickering, all of them laughing at her. She let the noise wash over her, dimly aware of Glory saying something and reaching for her. A gut-wrenching flood of homesickness washed through her, and a horrible cry tore from her throat. She put her hands over her face, realizing too late that she was smearing the feces over her cheeks and eyes. She gagged and staggered backward, her only thought to run, to get out of the tent so they would stop laughing at her. But it was like trying to run through molasses. It seemed as if everything had slowed to a crawl. Even the laughter seemed to deepen and slow. She shoved past Glory and her feet tangled in her skirt and she fell off the front of the stage, losing her heels and landing in a tangle of white dress, mud, and dog shit. The boys sprang on her like a pack of hungry wolves, pulling at her hair and clothes. She curled into a ball and covered her head with her arms.
Glory jumped down from the stage with the scepter in her fist. “Get out of here!” she screamed. “Leave her alone!” The teenagers raced toward the other end of the tent and Glory chased after them, swinging the scepter in the air. “If I see any of you in here again, I’ll kill you!”
Hester the Monkey Girl and Aldo the Alligator Skinned Man came running to help.
“Are you okay?” Hester said, reaching down to help Lilly up.
Lilly knew only one thing: She had to get out of there. She scrambled to her feet and bolted barefoot toward the end of the tent where she and Glory had come in. When she couldn’t find a way backstage, she ran out the front entrance through the middle of the crowd, sending the shocked townies left and right, spreading them like Moses spread the Red Sea. Women gasped and stepped back as if she had the plague while men put their arms out to protect them. Children cried out in fear. And Lilly saw them all, how beautiful and perfect they were, wrapped in sunlight and the normal world. She saw the pretty dresses, the rosy faces, the dark lashes, the blond and auburn hair. She hated them and wanted to be them, all at the same time.
Someone stuck out their foot and she tripped and fell on her hands and knees. She started to crawl along the sawdust-covered lot in her white princess dress, her dog shit–covered hair hanging in her face. Tears of shame and sorrow blurred her vision and she collapsed on the hot earth, breathing raggedly, not caring what happened next. On the ground in front of her, a pair of shiny black boots appeared. With what little strength she had left, she looked up.
“What the hell did you do?” Merrick said, glaring down at her.
Before she could say anything, he yanked her up by the arm and dragged her toward the back lot, around the stakes and lines of the big top. Behind the giant tent, the performers, animals, and clowns waited in line for the opening parade. Everyone turned to watch Lilly and Merrick—women in tutus and pink tights, men in white leotards and red jackets. White-faced clowns and women and girls in sequined costumes. All looked on with curious eyes. At the end of the waiting procession, the boy in a tuxedo stood next to a man in work clothes, holding a line tied to the baby elephant.
Then Lilly tripped and fell again, her head and right shoulder hitting the ground with a bone-jarring thud. For a brief second, as she lay on her side, a cloud of dust nearly obscuring her vision, she saw the boy in the tuxedo drop the rope and start toward her, his face filled with surprise and concern. But the man in work clothes put a hand on his shoulder to stop him and led him back to the baby elephant. The boy glanced over his shoulder at Lilly and retook his place in line, frowning.
Merrick grabbed Lilly by the hair, yanked her to her feet, and dragged her away. She reached up with both hands to claw at his wrist, but he wouldn’t let go. Over at the big top, the circus band started, the back entrance opened, and the grand parade made its way into the giant tent, greeted by the cheers and applause of an adoring crowd.
CHAPTER 10
JULIA The evening after Julia’s first full day as the new owner of Blackwood Manor, the wind picked up and the house grew dark and cold, despite the fact that Claude had turned up the furnace. But it was far from silent. Creaks and groans seemed to come from every beam and floorboard, pipes knocked, radiators whispered, and the shutters rattled against the windows. Every once in a while, as she sat by the living room fireplace trying to make sense of the papers from the lawyer, Julia thought she heard rats in the walls. Doing her best to ignore the unsettling noises and pushing away images of a rodent infestation, she studied investment statements and deeds, a copy of her parents’ last will and testament, page after page of legal mumbo jumbo, and bank statements that made her gasp. She knew her parents had money, but until now, she had no idea how much. If nothing else, it put her mind at ease to know she could keep paying Claude and Fletcher to help with the horses. And she could send Danny and his family a nice check so he wouldn’t have to dig for food in the Dumpster behind Big Al’s anymore. Maybe she’d even send one to her old boyfriend Tom, without a return address of course.
She had already made the decision that she would keep the farm running and, if possible, she would gut the house and turn Blackwood Manor into something fresh and new. She certainly had the money to do it. But first she had to sort through everything, to make some order of all the possessions, the thousands of items that seemed to fill every corner. There were too many memories, too many rooms, too much furniture, too many drawers and cupboards and hiding places. It was going to take weeks, if not months, to go through it all.
Her mind whirled in a hundred different directions at once, and yet, she couldn’t help thinking about the horses and the tour of the barn Fletcher had given her earlier. Growing up, the scent of hay had been a familiar one, but inside the barn it was stronger and sweeter than she imagined. Mixed with the bakery-like fragrance of molasses and grain, and the musky aroma of the horses, it gave the barn a strangely cozy feel that, to her surprise, she found quite pleasant.