DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.
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She sat alone, hugging her drawn-up knees, on the dirt floor of what she still thought of as someone else's tent. Her parents' tent, not her own.
On either the worst or the second-worst day of her life.
I guess there ain't no comparin' the two.
But today is the End Of All Hope. An' the End Of All Hope is a very bad thing.
She thought she probably should be crying. But there didn't seem to be any more tears left in her. So she just sat.
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The letdown wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't been late. What, three or four days? But now it's streamin' along, just like always...
She shuddered.
Just like the blood must o' streamed outta him.
Her trusty period had probably saved her life on an earlier occasion, when it kept her from joining Dora Mae in the blow-off. That blow-off, before a too-rowdy crowd, had led to Dora Mae's being murdered.
But now she saw her "friend" as the enemy of life. Proof that her husband was really and truly gone, as if he'd never existed. No remnant left to grow and flourish inside her. No child to look up at her someday with his eyes, gladden her heart with his smile.
My goddamn womb is just as empty as the other side o' my bed. Always will be.
Is this my punishment for bein' a lowdown carny whore? If Jonesy'd had the kind o' wife he deserved, would she be carryin' his child?
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Someone lifted the tent flap.
She was mildly surprised to see, not one of her parents, but Ben Hawkins. Watching her warily, he came into the tent. When she didn't object, he settled down beside her.
And they both just sat.
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When it seemed they'd been doing that for a ridiculously long time, Libby looked at Ben and asked, "Did Mama get you to come in here? To comfort me?"
"No. Matter o' fact, she thought my comin' in was a bad idea. She said you wanted to be alone, an' you'd prob'ly kick me out."
"Kick you out? O' course not!"
How could she possibly kick him out, after he'd performed a miracle to save Jonesy's life? It wasn't his fault Jonesy had died anyway, days later, because he was too noble to leave that bitch Sofie to fend for herself!
Then another thought struck her. "Why'd you come over here today, if Mama didn't ask you to? Is she tellin' my business all over the carnival again?"
"No, o' course she ain't. Leastways, I ain't heard nothin'. I just sorta, uh, sensed you were havin' a very bad day."
Libby pondered that for a few seconds. Then she blurted out, "Oh, Christ!" She scuttled away from him.
"What?" Ben looked bewildered.
"You got powers. You went an' smelled my goddamn period, way over in one o' the trailers, didn't you?"
"No!" Now he looked appalled. "I can't even smell it from here, Lib. I swear!"
"Then why -?"
He sighed. "You ain't set foot outside the tent all day. Your parents ain't said nothin', far as I know, but they both look like the world's comin' to an end. I saw your mama cryin'.
"An' yeah, I think I did sorta feel somethin' troublin' you, worse than usual. But I can't be sure, 'cause them other signs were so clear.
"I figured it pretty much had to be that either you'd hoped you were pregnant an' found out you ain't, or you were pregnant an' lost it."
Startled, she thought about that for a few seconds. Then she said quietly, "Shit. I thought this was bad. But bein' pregnant an' losin' it woulda been worse."
She was still puzzled by Ben's being there. Moving a little closer, she observed, "You don't seem to be tryin' to comfort me." He didn't seem to be doing anything; he just looked glum.
He said slowly, "I don't think I should be tryin' to comfort you. Y'see -" He paused to weigh his words. "Like you said, I got powers. Sometimes I can help folks to feel calmer. To accept bad things that's happened to them, an' not despair.
"But that's a kind o' tamperin'. I think I should only do it when it's really necessary, to keep someone from...slippin' over the edge.
"There's no risk o' that here. You're a strong person. You ain't slippin' over no edge. You're feelin' exactly what you should be feelin' at this point, after the godawful crap that happened. Some things in life ain't meant to be easy."
"Huh." She studied his face, then said shrewdly, "You knew that before you came here. So why'd you come?"
He just sat there, seemingly at a loss for words.
"I couldn't kick you out, could I? You're the boss now...oh my God!" She leapt to her feet and backed away from him, stopping only when she stumbled into the wall of the tent.
"What? What's wrong?"
"You're the boss! You came to tell me to get back to work - dancin', strippin', an' whorin'!"
"Oh shit. No way, Libby, no way!" He was on his feet too, eyes wide with horror. "You gotta believe me, Lib! There's no way I'd pressure you to do any o' that. Far as I'm concerned, you're Jonesy's wife, an' that guarantees you a home with this carnival. Always. Even if your parents decided to leave, an' you wanted to stay."
Reassured, she edged closer to him again.
Then he said softly, "Besides, you ain't seen me doin' nothin' to earn my keep lately, have you?"
"You shouldn't have to!"
"Yeah, I should." His voice quavered slightly. He turned his face away, but she caught the suspiciously rapid blinking of his eyes. "My life is all messed up...but hell, there's no comparison with what you've been goin' through, losin' the person you loved. I got Ruthie."
"I'm glad at least that part o' your life is okay."
Or is it? Is any part o' his life really "okay"?
Libby felt a twinge of guilt: she'd been so absorbed in her own problems that she'd given no thought to anyone else's. Though everyone knew Ben had been devastated when he learned that his enemy was still alive in New Canaan, thousands of innocents dead. That defied explanation. Libby couldn't imagine what he'd try to do about it.
Was anything else wrong? The bitch Sofie was back with Carnivale...before Sofie left, Libby had heard a rumor that she and Ben seemed to be getting together. Apparently, by the time she returned, Ben was committed to Ruthie.
Serves the bitch right.
I don't suppose Ben has any regrets. Ruthie has to be in her fifties. But he must love her, or he wouldn't be with her.
An' yet...she'll never be able to give him a child.
Can a guy his age be content with that?
A sudden thought took her breath away. Oh my God! He can't seem to make clear why he came here today. But he knew I'm lonely - woulda given anythin' to have a child in my womb, an' don't have one.
Could he possibly have come because he wants...me?
Not to be his lover, not to replace Ruthie, but just to bear his child?
She unconsciously backed away from him again, then groped for a chair and sank into it.
The idea was disgusting. Nauseating!
Or was it?
She was lonely. Empty. Jonesy was lost to her forever, and she'd had sex without love often enough before...
But now Ben was saying, "Guess I'd better go." With an awkward nod, he departed as abruptly as he'd come.
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Damn, that was just a crazy thought I had. He never intended any such thing.
But what the hell was he doin' here?
Whether he's thought of it yet or not, it is an idea worth keepin' in mind. Somethin' I could do for him, that Ruthie can't. Somethin' that would give meanin' to my life again.
And then she noticed the shadow on the tent.
The shadow Ben had cast on it, after he dropped the flap, had never moved. He was still standing there, hadn't taken a step.
She got to her feet, bewildered. But just as she was about to call out to him, he raised the flap and strode back in.
"Okay," he said crisply. "Truth is, Lib, I've been tryin' to decide whether to talk to you 'bout somethin'. I thought comin' over here might help me reach a decision.
"It didn't. But when I tried to leave, it was like - I almost couldn't! I coulda tore myself away, but not easy. So I guess I am s'posed to have this talk with you." He stopped to catch his breath, then looked at her and said almost plaintively, "Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, sure." Comin' from you. I know you ain't like other folks.
Ben sat on the floor again, and Libby dutifully dropped down beside him.
Is he gonna ask me to have his baby? Or maybe, for now, just to think about it?
"First off," Ben said quietly, "I need you to promise you'll keep what I'm gonna tell you secret. It's very important. Only a few people know about this situation, an' we ain't decided how to deal with it. Yet."
That threw Libby for a loop. A "situation" that only a few people knew about? Not what she'd been expecting, not by a long shot!
Frowning, she nodded.
"You're sure? You promise? It may not be easy for you to keep this to yourself, 'cause you're gonna be real mad at someone."
"I promise, Ben." By now her interest was so piqued that she would have promised anything.
"All right, here goes. Sofie's been lyin' to us."
Libby could only stare blankly. "Wh-what?"
"You know what she's claimed. She told us Jonesy rescued her back in New Canaan, but Varlyn Stroud - a henchman o' Brother Justin's - was shootin' at them, an' killed Jonesy. She said she got away, ran, an' managed to catch the last Carnivale truck as we were pullin' out. She passed out in the back o' the truck an' didn't come to till later, when we were stopped for repairs.
"We're sure now that it didn't happen that way. She didn't catch the last truck. She followed us later, drivin' the very car Stroud had been usin' in New Canaan. She caught up with us while we were stopped, ditched the car, an' somehow got in one o' the trucks without bein' spotted.
"We ain't told her what we know...yet. So you can't let on."
"I don't understand," Libby said slowly. "Why did she lie? What does it all mean?"
"We ain't sure. But there's one possibility I thought of - not the only one, Lib, an' even if this is it, it wouldn't offer much more'n a sliver o' hope -"
"Hope? Dammit, Ben, what are you talkin' about?"
He took a deep breath. "Imagine this. It's after the carnival has left - 'cause it took Jonesy a long time to find where Sofie was bein' held, or to see a chance to try to rescue her. They're up in the hills somewhere, far away from, from" - he swallowed hard - "the horror in the valley.
"Sofie an' Jonesy are runnin', tryin' to get to Stroud's car, 'cause they know he left the key in the ignition. Stroud's runnin' after them, shootin'.
"Jonesy is shot, goes down. Sofie...Sofie just keeps runnin', jumps in the car an' takes off.
"The way I'm picturin' it, she gets away clean by leavin' Jonesy. She ain't really sure he's dead. She never stops to check. But she don't want us to know she abandoned him when he coulda been alive. That's why she lies."
Libby felt the tent spinning. For a few seconds, everything went black. But Ben's hands gripped her arms; she focused on them, and never quite lost consciousness. Good thing we was sittin' on the floor...
"I'm sorry," he whispered, drawing her into a gentle embrace. "You can see why I had doubts about tellin' you.
"Here's what gave me the idea. Once Sofie was behind the wheel of a car, there was nothin' stoppin' her from rushin' to the Mintern police, to report what Crowe an' his goons had done to her an' Jonesy. But for some reason, she don't want us to know she had the choice o' doin' that, an' didn't.
"The way she's tellin' the story - Jonesy dead, no hope o' savin' him - we wouldn't care whether she went to the police. If anythin', we wouldn't expect her to. I ain't never met a carny who trusts police.
"But her not wantin' us to know could mean that deep down, she feels guilty about not havin' gone to them. 'Cause she thinks the police might o' gotten to New Canaan in time to save Jonesy."
Libby found her voice, and let out a string of curses. All directed at Sofie.
Ben rocked her, soothingly stroking her hair. "I ain't sure it happened that way," he reminded her. "It's just one possibility. But it is an idea that would explain her lyin'.
"If that is what happened, Jonesy coulda been dead when Sofie left him - she just didn't know. He coulda died later, from the wound. Or been finished off by Stroud. Or if the timin' was different, somehow, he coulda died from whatever killed them thousands o' Justin's followers in the valley." He was still holding Libby, and she felt a shudder run through him.
"I wasn't sure I should tell you this," he continued, "an' maybe give you false hope. Probably give you false hope. But I think you have a right to know. An' there is that chance, however slight..."
Libby freed herself, so she could pull back and look at him. "Thank you for tellin' me, Ben," she said steadily. "Please let me know when you find out more. You can trust me to keep my mouth shut.
"If that creature abandoned Jonesy" - a bit less steadily - "she deserves to burn in hell. But for now, for me...oh yes, a sliver o' hope is way better'n none!"
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Five minutes later Ben had really left, and Libby was once again huddled on the floor.
Jonesy may be alive. An' here I was, already thinkin' about bearin' another man's child.
Am I as wicked as Sofie?
Or...was the idea so awful? Only the slightest chance he's alive...
Damn! Why can't I just have a beautiful new hope, without a new batch o' guilt feelin's to go with it?
She laid her head down on her knees, dully wishing for tears that still refused to come.