The Life She Was Given

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

  “I don’t understand,” Lilly said. “How—”

  Before she could finish her question, keys rattled in their door. The handle turned and Viktor walked in with Mr. Barlow’s men.

  “Let’s go,” he snarled at Cole and Lilly.

  “Where?” Cole said.

  “Mr. Barlow wants you to witness the execution,” he said.

  “How can you go along with this?” Lilly cried. “Pepper was only trying to protect JoJo! Even Glory understands that!”

  “Merrick saved my life,” Viktor said. “That bull killed him.”

  “Do you really think Merrick took you out of that asylum because he cared?” she said. “He did it to make money off you, the same way he made money off me.”

  “Shut up and let’s go,” Viktor said.

  “No,” Lilly said. “I can’t. I won’t.”

  “I’ll go,” Cole said. “Let her stay here with Phoebe.”

  With that, one of Mr. Barlow’s men rushed Cole and wrestled his arm behind his back. On the sofa, Phoebe began to wail.

  “What the hell?” Cole said. He grimaced and struggled to get away.

  “Mr. Barlow wants you both there,” Viktor said.

  The other man made a move to grab Lilly.

  “Leave her alone!” Cole shouted.

  Lilly moved away from the strongman and put up her hands. “All right, all right. I’ll come,” she said. “There’s no need for force.” She whisked Phoebe off the sofa and held her close. “Shhh, sweet baby. Mommy’s right here.”

  “I said I’d cooperate,” Cole said. “Now let me go.”

  The man released Cole but stayed beside him, ready to grab him again if necessary. Cole rubbed his arm and gazed at Lilly, silently warning her to go along with whatever they said. Lilly stared back, terror and grief twisting in her chest.

  Together they followed Viktor out of the sleeper car and along the train, trailed by Mr. Barlow’s men. A thousand horrible thoughts raced through Lilly’s mind, and her legs and arms felt like rubber.

  “Let me leave Phoebe with Glory,” Lilly said to Viktor. “She doesn’t need to see this.”

  Viktor said nothing, but stopped farther along the train outside Glory’s car. Glory took Phoebe with tears in her eyes and hugged Lilly and Cole, refusing to look at her brother. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she whispered in Lilly’s ear. “Don’t worry.”

  Lilly nodded and kissed Phoebe’s soft cheek, her eyes flooding, then followed Viktor around to the other side of the train. They stopped across from the crowded depot next to a group of railroad officials, important-looking men in suits and shiny shoes, and the sheriff who shot Pepper. The townies who hadn’t seen Viktor yet pointed and stared at him, and numerous children ran frightened and crying to their mothers. Several hundred yards away, a trio of railroad men used a steam shovel to dig a giant grave in an empty lot. Lilly clung to Cole, trembling in the grip of impending doom.

  With everyone in place, Mr. Barlow promenaded out from behind the derrick car, smiling in his top hat and red jacket. He faced the audience and lifted his hands and chin, as if getting ready to announce an act inside the big top, then waved an arm to one side to draw everyone’s attention to his left. A group of animal handlers brought Pepper out of the Barlow Brothers’ train, whacking her with bull hooks and cattle prods. Pepper lifted her trunk and bellowed with each strike before hurrying forward. Streaks of blood ran down her sides and legs. When she reached the derrick, the handlers chained her back leg to the tracks and moved away.

  Every beat of Lilly’s heart felt like an explosion beneath her ribcage. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Mr. Barlow was going to execute Pepper, and in front of all these people. People who had come to see her killed. And humans called animals bloodthirsty.

  Pepper swayed back and forth next to the tracks, shaking and trembling. She knew something bad was going to happen. Then she saw Lilly and lifted her trunk. She trumpeted and reached out in desperation, her wide ears fanning back and forth. Lilly swallowed a sob and started toward her. She had to get to Pepper, to comfort her and apologize for not doing more to save her. If Pepper was going to die, she deserved to know she was loved. Viktor caught Lilly and yanked her back.

  Cole tore Viktor’s hand from her arm. “Don’t touch her,” he snarled.

  “Tell her to stay put,” Viktor said.

  Cole pulled Lilly close. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you want to help, but there’s nothing you can do.”

  She sagged against him. He was right, and the fact that Pepper might think she and Cole had something to do with her execution felt like a knife in her heart.

  A roustabout threw a heavy chain around Pepper’s neck, fastened it like a noose, and fitted the end through a steel ring on the derrick cable. Mr. Barlow signaled the derrick operator and the crowd grew quiet.

  “Oh my God,” Lilly cried. “You can’t do this! You can’t do this!”

  “Shut up,” Viktor growled.

  The derrick operator pulled a handle back, the winch squealed, and the chain rattled and constricted around Pepper’s neck. Lilly’s knees went weak and the blood drained from her face. The chain pulled tighter and tighter, slowly lifting Pepper’s front feet off the ground. Pepper struggled and bellowed and threw her head back and forth, her eyes wide with terror. Bile rose in the back of Lilly’s throat and, for a second, she thought she was going to pass out. Then there was a gruesome ripping sound and Pepper screamed. The audience gasped. The derrick operator lowered Pepper onto the tracks, and the chain loosened around her neck. Two roustabouts ran over and undid the chain around her back leg, but her ankle was already torn open.

  A rush of adrenaline surged through Lilly and she yanked herself from Cole’s arms and ran toward Pepper.

  “Lilly, no!” Cole shouted. He chased after her, but Viktor grabbed him and held him back.

  When Lilly reached the terrified bull, she slowed. Pepper was panicking, moving back and forth and side to side, shaking her head and trying to get loose of the chain. The roustabouts and handlers stayed clear.

  “It’s all right, Pepper,” Lilly said, holding out a hand. “I’m going to help you. It’s okay.”

  At first, Pepper didn’t respond. Then she noticed Lilly and stopped struggling. A deep, mournful sound rumbled in her throat.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lilly saw Mr. Barlow storming toward them. She moved closer to Pepper. “Come on, girl,” she said. “Pick me up.”

  Pepper limped forward, wrapped her trunk around Lilly, and lifted her onto her head. Lilly moved to Pepper’s back, grabbed the derrick cable, and tried undoing the chain from the steel ring. If she could get Pepper free of the noose, or even if she couldn’t, she was going stay put until Mr. Barlow agreed not to follow through with the execution. He wouldn’t kill Pepper while Lilly was on top of her, not in public anyway. After that, she had no idea what would happen. But she had to try something. She pulled down on the steel ring, struggling to loosen the cable and release the chain. It was too tight.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mr. Barlow yelled up at her. “Get down from there!” Behind him, a group of roustabouts were closing in. Cole had gotten away from Viktor and was running toward her, Viktor on his heels.

  Mr. Barlow signaled the derrick operator again, despite the fact that Lilly was standing on top of the bull. The winch powered up, the operator pulled the handle, and the cable tightened. Lilly lost her balance and fell to her knees. She nearly slipped off Pepper’s back, but held on to the chain around her neck. Women gasped and pulled their children into their skirts while men craned their necks to get a better look. Cole ran over to the derrick car, scrambled up the side, grabbed the operator by the shirt, and hauled him out of the cab. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat, pushed the handle forward, and the cable went loose. Lilly stood and struggled to undo the chain again. Viktor climbed up the derrick car, seized Cole by the collar, and punched him hard in the face. Cole l
isted to one side, seemingly out cold, then straightened and rammed a fist into Viktor’s steam-shovel jaw. Unfazed, Viktor punched Cole again, harder this time, then dragged him out of the operator’s seat and took his place. Four roustabouts latched on to Cole’s legs, yanked him down from the car, and held him to the ground. Cole thrashed and cussed, frantically fighting to get away. One of Mr. Barlow’s strongmen kicked him in the head and he went limp, his face turned to one side.

  In the derrick operator’s seat, Viktor pushed the levers and moved the handle, and the crane swung to the left, jerking Pepper in the same direction. Lilly tumbled sideways and straddled Pepper’s neck, hanging on for dear life. When the crane slowly swung back again, she scrambled to her feet, reached for the steel ring, and tried to pull down on the chain at the same time. Viktor jostled the handle forward and to the right, and the crane lowered and swung to the other side. The cable loosened and Lilly yanked down on the steel ring and struggled to undo the chain. A whooshing noise sounded above her head and she looked up. The boom of the crane dropped down and over, then switched direction and headed straight at her. Before she could react, it slammed into her stomach, cracked her ribcage, and knocked her off Pepper’s back. In what seemed like slow motion, she flew through the air, her lungs empty and useless, her arms and hair out like the limbs of a falling doll.

  She struck a railroad switch several yards away, the metal sign smashing into her lower spine, the sound of splintering bones exploding in her brain. She screamed and hit the ground with a thud, her body rigid with agony. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the crowd gasp. The world swam in and out of focus, blurred behind a bloody film of tears. She closed her eyes, panting and trying to hold on to consciousness. Her torso burned as if someone had set her on fire.

  After what seemed like forever, the dizziness passed and she opened her eyes. On her side in the dirt, she was facing the circus train, and her legs and arms felt bent at odd angles. Several railroad officials and the sheriff rushed toward her. Behind them, Mr. Barlow’s strongmen dragged Cole away.

  She gritted her teeth and tried to sit up. Her arms worked, but she couldn’t push herself off the ground. The pain in her middle was like nothing she had ever felt before, every breath like a hundred twisting blades in her spine. She tried to roll over, but no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t move. She looked down at her stomach. A gore-streaked bar stuck out of her lower abdomen, and blood oozed from the wound. Oddly, she felt no pain. She touched the area around the metal bar and sticky blood coated her fingers. Once that’s out, I’ll be fine, she thought.

  A cluster of boots and shoes appeared and the sheriff knelt beside her, his face lined with alarm. “Don’t move,” he said. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Behind her, the derrick crane powered up again. The winch squealed and the chain rattled.

  “No . . .” she said, reaching for the sheriff with a bloody hand. “Don’t . . . don’t let . . . them kill Pepper.”

  “Just hold on and we’ll get help,” the sheriff said. He stood and shouted, “Someone get an ambulance!”

  Behind Lilly, the crane creaked, the cable whined, and the crowd laughed and clapped. Pepper bellowed several times, then let out shriek after agonized shriek. Lilly put her hands over her ears, but the sounds of Pepper struggling found its way through her trembling hands and ripped into her brain. She sobbed and gagged, her breath growing shallow and fast. Iron and steel creaked in protest against the heavy weight of Pepper’s writhing body until, little by little, the cable stopped squeaking and the crowd grew quiet. Lilly’s arms went limp and her vision started closing in, like a dark curtain drawing in around her. The world spun out of control and a feeling of utter doom swallowed her. This must be what it feels like to die, she thought. But I can’t . . . Phoebe needs me. . . . Then she felt like she was falling and the world went black.

  CHAPTER 32

  JULIA

  After questioning Claude about the hidden bedroom and her sister, Julia trudged back to the manor, her mind reeling. She had spent her entire life feeling sorry for herself because of Mother’s coldness and Father’s distance, thinking something had to be wrong with her to make her unworthy of their love. And even though she knew deep in her heart her father’s car accident wasn’t her fault, she’d always blamed herself for that too. Sure, he was the one who chose to drink and drive, but she was the one who had skipped church to go swimming. The burden she carried was real.

  Now she realized she was the lucky one. She had been able to live a relatively normal life and leave Blackwood Manor, unlike her sister who had been kept prisoner because of the way she looked. Sadly, it came as no surprise that Mother was ashamed of her firstborn. Because despite her pious ways in private, outward appearances had always mattered most to her, hence the fancy dresses and furs when she went out in public, and the happy family charade for the outside world. But locking up a child was unimaginable. It was monstrous and cruel and disgusting. And Father had been in on it. No wonder he drank. Was that why he needed God’s forgiveness, or was it something else?

  When Julia got back to the house, she rolled up every shade, yanked aside every heavy drape, and opened every window. Fresh air and sunshine would never flush Blackwood Manor of its horrible secrets and lies, but airing out the house felt like something she needed to do. If only she could open windows in her head and air out her mind. Unfortunately, the image of a little girl in the attic bedroom had burned itself into her brain for all eternity. After grabbing a box of matches from a kitchen cupboard, she put on a heavy coat, boots, and gloves, and went back outside to burn the pile of fallen branches from the ice storm. Physical labor always helped her think, and she needed to figure out what to do next.

  Her father always burned leaves in the fall, and she could still picture him sitting on a stump in the side yard, chain-smoking cigarettes and swigging whiskey from a silver flask. He looked like a man condemned to hell on earth, and it had filled her heart with fear to see him there, his shoulders slumped like something bad had happened. Now she knew why he looked that way. Terrible secrets, like poison, eat away at you from the inside.

  At the burning spot, the mound of downed branches and sticks from the storm was as big as a car. Along with a base of old leaves from last fall, it would create quite a fire. Julia walked the perimeter of the lawn, picking up stray branches to add to the pile.

  On her first turn around the yard, she stopped by the garden shed and looked up at Blackwood Manor. Unlike the front and back of the house, which had eight attic dormers, this side of the house had only four. None of them would have been in the hidden bedroom, but she couldn’t help imagining a pale little girl looking out one of the moldy windows, alone and wondering why she couldn’t go outside. The thought of it twisted and burned inside her chest as surely as an arrow piercing her heart would have caused her agony. Even if she gutted the manor and redid the inside, how could she live there, knowing the pain and suffering an innocent child had suffered behind its walls?

  She threw a handful sticks on the pile and went into the garden shed. The stack of old newspapers in a wooden crate was still there, and a tin of lantern oil high on a shelf. Back out at the burning spot, she stuffed crumpled newspaper between the bottom branches of the mound, poured lantern oil over the sticks and old leaves, then lit the paper and stepped back. The fire caught immediately and spread, filling the quiet afternoon with the sound of snapping fingers. The orange and blue flames crackled and spit and rose quickly toward the sky.

  She stared at the fire, mesmerized and watching the flames blacken the branches and devour the leaves. The fire grew higher and warmed her face and hands. If anyone had seen her standing there, they would have no clue of the chaos swirling inside her head. How was it possible for parents to lock up their own child? How could they live with themselves, knowing their daughter was being held prisoner, unable to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on her skin while they were free do as they pleased? Did they
hide her in the attic as soon as she was born? Did they tell everyone she was stillborn? A memory flickered in her mind—someone saying how happy they were to see Julia had grown up healthy and strong after Mother spent her entire pregnancy in bed. Who was it? She couldn’t remember. Were they worried because they’d been told Mother lost her first baby? Was there a birth certificate in the house with the name of Mother’s doctor? Was Lilly her sister? What happened to her? Was she dead? Did her parents need forgiveness for locking her up, or something else? Did she die in the attic, or did she escape and join the circus? Was it possible the circus was still in business? How did Lilly’s camera get in Father’s desk, not to mention her hairbrush and jewelry? Hundreds of questions boggled Julia’s mind and made her sick to her stomach all at the same time.

  She blinked and stepped back, the skin on her face burning as though she’d been out in the sun too long, and panic suddenly tightened her chest. While she’d been in a trance, the fire had grown taller and wider and hotter. It singed the lower branches of a nearby tree and inched into the yard, blackening and destroying the brown grass like water eroding a sand beach. She looked around for something to put out the errant flames. Her father used to use a shovel and pitchfork to keep the fire in check, but she realized too late that she had neither. She looked over at the barn to see if Claude was watching. Maybe he could help. She didn’t see him anywhere.

  Desperate, she stomped the burning ground to put out the spreading flames. But the intense heat burned her skin and throat, forcing her back. She held her breath and kept trying, but couldn’t get close for more than a second or two. Then the huge pile shifted and started to collapse, and embers and sparks flew through the air. She jumped out of the way and looked around the yard for something to put out the inferno—a shovel, a hose, a bucket of rainwater. She saw nothing. She had to get Claude. She started toward the barn, running and yelling for help, then glanced over her shoulder at the fire. A flash of red caught her eye and she stopped in her tracks to look back at the house.