The Life She Was Given

by Ellen Marie Wiseman

it was his enormous belly that earned him the nickname Big Al. Covered in a greasy white apron, it hung over his pants like a beluga whale.

When she felt something warm on her arms and face, she looked up and squinted. It was the sun.

Shielding her eyes with her hand, she looked from horizon to horizon. The sky was bigger than she had ever dreamed. And there were birds, flying like black arrows back and forth over the tents and people.

Why did the two people who were supposed to love her more than anything keep her hidden from the world?

Her grief was like a shroud she couldn’t see through. It made it impossible to think straight.

You’re perfect, like a life-sized porcelain doll.”

A good whipping with a willow branch had a way of reminding you to do as you’re told.

as if the lions were something to be hated and feared. They were wild animals who wanted their freedom, and to be left alone. That was all.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to be in her safe little room with Abby. Thinking of her cat again, her eyes and throat burned. Was anyone taking care of her? Or did Momma leave her in the attic to starve?

a mint green rug embroidered with roses and leaves covered the plank floor like a thick layer of lime sherbet.

Why couldn’t she be like him and the rest of the big-top performers, beautiful and normal, admired for what they could do, not judged for what they looked like?

The viewing area behind the rope in front of the stage stood empty, waiting to be filled with townies wanting to examine her with their eyes. She stared at the murky, open space, her heart in her throat. It seemed gigantic and dark, like an open mouth made of grass and canvas, waiting to swallow her whole.

Maybe Mother wanted to prove once and for all that bad things happened if you didn’t follow the rules. But what Mother didn’t know was that Julia planned on following the rules. Except this time, they were going to be her own.

even though she was too exhausted to cry, tears sprang from her eyes. So this is what it felt like to be hugged by another person. And maybe, just maybe, this was what it felt like to be loved.

The world was nothing like she imagined, and she would have given anything to be back in her attic room, even if it meant dealing with Momma. A surge of homesickness plowed through her, so strong it nearly made her cry out.

some people think when a person looks different on the outside, they’re different on the inside too.”

Momma said people were put on earth to serve God, not the other way around. So why did the performers think He would keep them safe?

For some reason, she wanted to be with the animals more than the people. She couldn’t describe how she felt about the animals or why she had such a strong need to see them, because she didn’t understand it herself. But it was one of the reasons she was brave enough to venture out for the first time on her own. Maybe she was drawn to them because they understood what it was like to be locked up, with no control over what happened next. Maybe it was because her cat was the only one who had never let her down. Or maybe her love of animals was part of who she was, like the way her left foot turned in slightly, the way her fingers were long and thin, and the way her skin was white as snow. Whatever the cause, seeing the baby elephant and the other animals was the only thing she cared about right now.

there was something else too, something that felt like tenderness. Was it possible that this powerful animal cared about people, even after everything they had done to it, even after they had caged it, tied it in ropes and chains, and forced it to perform?

She edged toward the baby and placed a gentle hand on its wide gray head. Short black hairs bristled from the top of its forehead like a stiff brush. Lilly’s heart filled with wonder and delight and something that felt like joy. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She never thought she’d have the chance to touch a real, live elephant, let alone a baby elephant.

It seemed like she had more in common with the circus animals than the people. No wonder she could feel their pain.

And then Julia recognized the look in their eyes, the look she had studied so many times between mothers and daughters, the look that lit up their faces with affection and recognition of their unconditional love. Her breath caught in her chest.

Even after everything Momma and Daddy had done to her, the fact that they never returned her love still broke her heart.

It didn’t matter that they were animals. Mares still possessed the maternal instinct. She had seen it with her own eyes when Bonnie Blue looked back at her newborn filly. It was love at first sight. Her mother had never looked at her that way, but Julia had studied enough interactions between mothers and daughters to recognize unconditional love when she saw it. Then another thought hit her and she had to stop working. How many foals had been taken away from their mothers at Blackwood Manor Horse Farm? How many horses’ hearts had been broken because of her parents’ greed? How could anyone be that callous year after year after year? What kind of people were her parents anyway?

In her head, she was tough, but in reality she hated the thought of anyone being angry at her, even someone as ornery as Claude.

his face tight, anger radiating from his pores like heat from a desert.

The unsettling noises seemed to echo the thoughts in her mind, banging and leaping and ricocheting inside her skull.

The circle of light revealed wood planks and rough-hewn beams soaring above her like the upside-down bowels of an old ship. The attic.

Sheets of rain beat on the canvas like a hundred galloping hooves.

Terror flooded the tent like a living, breathing thing.

Broken ropes whipped in the air like frenzied snakes,

then the entire tent rose in the air and suddenly vanished, as if plucked from the earth by a giant hand.

You’re not going to kick a hardworking man when he’s down, are you?”

She closed her flooding eyes and prayed for exhaustion to overtake her, to release her into sleep.

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.

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.

the black manacle of grief tightened around her heart and locked eternally into place with a solid, final thud.

How was it possible that her lungs still drew in air and her shattered heart was still beating? Agony nearly swallowed her.

She wondered too what kind of mother Lilly would have been after being treated so cruelly by her parents. She liked to imagine her as a loving, affectionate woman who, like Julia, had learned to be gentle and kind as a result of what others had done to her.

I always say we can’t be mad at animals for acting like animals, especially when we’re the ones who put them in positions where they feel the need to defend themselves.

Not only is research necessary to build a credible fiction world, but it helps me understand what my characters’ lives might have been like, what clothes they may have worn, what food they may have eaten, what their hairstyles may have been, whether their homes would have included the latest inventions—electric lights, a telephone, a motor vehicle, or an icebox.

All four endure hardship at the hands of others who show little regard for human dignity, yet each refuses to give up hope and does whatever is necessary to improve her situation.