The Life She Was Given

Lilly bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. What little strength she had left seemed to slip away. Her mother never meant to lock her away, she wanted her dead. She was beyond cold and cruel, she was willing to murder her own baby. And now she had stolen Phoebe. When Lilly found her voice, it was weak and rattling. “Because she thought I was a monster. And she was ashamed of me.”

“No, because she thought she was being tested by God. She had made a deal with the devil and you terrified her, not because you were a monster, but because you were perfect. You were without a blemish or a spot, like the sacrificial lamb.” He stepped closer. “Don’t you see? I locked you in the attic to save you. By the time she discovered you were still alive, you were four months old. I warned her to leave you alone or I’d tell everyone the truth. We said you were stillborn. There was a funeral and . . .” He stopped and pressed his fingers into his temple, his brow creased.

Tears spilled down Lilly’s cheeks. “Why didn’t you do what she wanted? Why didn’t you take me into the woods and leave me there?”

“Because what she was saying was crazy. I thought she’d lost her mind and would come around after she got over the shock.”

“But she didn’t. So you left me in the attic.”

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you come looking for me after she sold me to the circus?”

“She said you ran away.”

“And you believed her.”

“At first I was afraid she’d done something . . .” He hesitated, then went on. “I kept asking her how you got out and found your way downstairs. She said you knocked her down and ran. She had bruises on her arm and scratches on her cheek.”

“She was lying.”

“I realized that when I saw a circus poster in Pennsylvania with your picture on it. I—”

“You knew where I was then,” she said. “All this time.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t want to know if I was all right? If I was happy?”

He sighed. “Of course, I did. That’s why I came to see you in the medium tent.”

“That was six years after I disappeared. What took you so long?”

He shook his head. “You’re wrong. I went to a show at least once a year. You never knew I was there, but I saw you in the freak show. I saw you on the white elephant.” A sad smile played around his lips. “You looked so beautiful . . . and happy.”

Lilly put her hands over her face. She had been happy. Finally. But then the tornado took the big top and Mr. Barlow sold JoJo and...

She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She could barely string two thoughts together. The longer they talked, the weaker she grew.

“You must hate me,” her father said.

She took her hands from her face and shook her head, weeping openly now. “I loved you, and Momma too, because I didn’t know any better. But when I saw myself in a mirror for the first time and realized there was no reason to lock me up, I hated you both. For a long time. Now, you’re not important enough to hate.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “For everything. I still love you. I never stopped, not for one minute.”

On watery arms, she pushed herself up again, trying not to disturb Phoebe. “If you still love me, take me to the hospital. Give me back my daughter. Please. You can’t let Momma take her. She’s all I have.”

He clenched his jaw, his temples pulsing in and out. “And then what, Lilly? What do you think the police would do if they found out we locked you up? What do you think would happen if they found out your mother sold you to a circus sideshow?”

“I won’t tell them,” she croaked. Her voice was giving out. She fell back on the pillow, breathing hard. “You have to give me a fighting chance. You owe me that much.”

He moved closer, slowly shaking his head. “I hope you’ll forgive me someday, but right now, the only thing I can do is promise to give your daughter the life you never had. If something happened to me and your mother, who would take care of her?” He reached over Lilly and lifted Phoebe from the bed. Lilly tried to hold on, but she was too weak. Her father pulled away and stood over her, Phoebe asleep in his arms, tears shining in his eyes. “You wouldn’t want her sent to an orphanage, would you?” Before Lilly could say anything else, he walked out of the room and locked the door behind him.

Lilly threw her head back and screamed until she tasted blood.





CHAPTER 34


JULIA Spring had appeared by the time Julia’s new house was finished—a modest cottage with a porch swing and windows overlooking the main barn and pasture. The daffodils were up, the apple trees were covered in white and pink blossoms, and the lilac trees were budding. Robins bounced along the muddy grass, and sparrows lined the fences and barn roof.

On her way across the lawn to the new barn construction site, Julia turned her face toward the sun, hopeful about the future for the first time in her life. But there were still so many things that needed to be done. The new barn was being built where Blackwood Manor once stood, the new fences needed to be put up, and the electricity was being turned on today. And she was thinking about getting a dog or two, maybe a yellow lab and a chocolate one too.

It was relief in the end, to have the manor gone. Now that she knew the truth, she wanted nothing more than to put the past behind her and start over. Living in the manor would have felt like living in a mausoleum, every little thing a reminder of the hurt and fear she felt as a child, of the guilt she felt when her “father” was drinking, and mostly, of the suffering her mother, Lilly, had endured. It would have seemed wrong to live there, not to mention too hard to live in a place that had witnessed such overwhelming sadness and cruelty. Besides, going through everything would have taken forever—reading all her father’s papers, selling off the antiques, clearing out the attic. More importantly, making a loving home in the same house her mother had been kept prisoner and died in would have been impossible. Now the house and everything in it was gone, destroyed and purified by fire.

Although she tried not to, she thought about her grandparents a lot. When she told Fletcher what had happened, he said people who were cold and aggressive were not happy people. They treated others the way they did because they were unhappy within themselves. She wasn’t sure if she believed him, but she appreciated his efforts to help. After all, she had been unhappy most of her life, and she always tried hard, maybe too hard, to be kind to others. She had heard the saying that those who hurt others had been hurt themselves. But she didn’t believe that either. She had been hurt and knew how awful it felt, so she tried not to hurt anyone. Maybe some people never learned.

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