DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.
Note: Latest in a series including "Ten Times Trouble," "Awakenings," "Twisting the Truth," "Possibilities," "Prevarication," and "Decision"; should be comprehensible as a standalone. (To learn what's become of Jonesy, read "Awakenings.")
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"My name is Libby Jones." Remembering Samson's advice, Libby spoke loudly and forcefully, getting the attention of all the three hundred or so people crammed into Carnivale's largest tent - the one that normally housed the Ten-In-One. But then she faltered. Tears stung her eyes, and her voice broke as she tried to go on.
She glimpsed Ben's anxious face in the wings; he was leaning forward, poised to rush to her assistance.
Dammit, I can't let him down!
She pulled herself together and took a deep breath. "Sorry," she continued. "Y'see, I just realized, I'm such a new bride that I was sayin' them words for the very first time.
"An' not only am I that new a bride...I'm already a widow."
The crowd gave a collective gasp of horror, and she had to close her eyes for a moment as she fought back more tears. But then she went on - gaining confidence as she spoke, surprising herself with her own steadiness.
"My husband, Clayton Jones - 'Jonesy,' folks called him - was the boss o' Carnivale's rousties. He got separated from us back in New Canaan, left behind somehow. Everyone knows what happened there after we left. We've had to accept that Jonesy's dead. An' all our people are grievin' for him - none more'n our healer, Benjamin St. John."
A murmur of sympathy ran through the crowd.
"You've prob'ly heard that Ben's told reporters how he healed Jonesy, when he'd been tarred an' feathered by a bunch o' vigilantes back in Wyoming. They'd followed us 'cross the state line from Nebraska."
More excited whispers, as her audience belatedly made the connection.
"I want to tell you that I was there, an' I can confirm that it was an honest-to-God miracle!"
There were shouts of "Hallelujah!"
After they'd died down, she continued, "Jonesy warn't to blame for the Ferris Wheel collapsin' in Damascus, but men from there was determined to have revenge on someone. They snatched Jonesy an' me out of our tent durin' the night, took us out in the desert, an' made me watch while they put boilin' tar all over him. He was in agony, an' I was damn near out o' my mind!
"They left him to die, in the middle o' nowhere. He was close to death - there warn't nothin' I could do for him. An' as the day went on, I figured the desert sun was gonna kill me too. Not that I cared.
"Then, God be praised, Ben came along in a Carnivale truck an' found us." Her listeners had been hanging on every sentence, reacting with appropriate gasps and moans; now some of them burst into applause.
"But he didn't see how he could use his powers," she continued. "Like you've heard yesterday an' today, he needs a source o' life-force. Out there in the desert, there didn't seem to be none." There were more gasps and murmurs of concern, as the crowd wondered how the miracle man had resolved this dilemma.
"So what he tried to do, first off, was get Jonesy to a hospital. But Jonesy went into convulsions, an' we saw he wasn't gonna make it. Buzzards was circlin' in to feast on his remains. An' then Ben realized what he could do - he could take life-force from the buzzards!" The crowd erupted in cheers.
"He made me get a safe distance away. Then he had to wait till the very last minute, to be sure there were enough buzzards. But finally, he worked his miracle. Dead buzzards everywhere - an' Jonesy was saved!" Above the tumult that followed, she shouted, "The tar an' feathers fell off, the burns all healed in an instant, without leavin' scars. An' his bum knee was healed too, what'd been crippled for years!"
As her listeners clapped one another on the back and jumped up and down in excitement, she kept shouting. "So you see, I can vouch for Ben's powers! An' now that you know all the effort he put into healin' Jonesy, can you believe for a second that he kilt them folks in New Canaan, an' let Jonesy die with them?"
"No!" yelled hundreds of voices. "No way!" "Never!"
"All right!" With a flourish worthy of her father, she concluded, "Now I ask you to welcome...Benjamin St. John!"
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Ben walked onstage, looking somewhat dazed by that introduction.
Before he'd taken a half-dozen steps, Libby saw that the welcome she'd called for was going to be too enthusiastic. Oh my God, no!
The crowd surged forward, shrieking. Two dozen carny men, lined up in front of the stage, locked arms to create a barrier. But the screams from the front rows became cries of panic, as the earliest arrivals realized they were in danger of being crushed.
Libby stood frozen. She was dimly aware that a gray-faced Samson was rushing onstage. But before he could say or do anything, Ben strode to center stage and raised his arms.
"Thank you!" he cried out. "But now, stop that shovin'! Everyone stand still!"
To her amazement, everyone did.
"That's good," Ben went on. "There's too many people packed in here, an' we gotta take care that no one gets hurt. I want all o' you to move slow, now. Get back to where you were. I know most o' you had seats, so sit in 'em!"
Incredibly, they obeyed. The flimsy chairs had been knocked over, but they were righted and reoccupied, with no sign of disputes over seating. In less than a minute, the attendees were settled down and gazing raptly at Ben - many with their hands folded in their laps, like exceptionally well-behaved schoolchildren.
Libby found herself thinking, Maybe they're afraid that if they're naughty, he'll kick 'em out an' let in some o' the thousands that's gathered outside?
Knowing Ben was still only nineteen, she was amazed by his willingness and ability to take charge of the situation - and equally amazed that the crowd had heeded him. Looking at Samson, she saw that he was less surprised, but no less awed.
Ben put an arm around Libby's shoulders, and said gently, "Thank you, Lib. Mrs. Jones." In the moment before she retreated to the wings - to hearty applause from the crowd - she saw tears in her father's eyes, as he looked up at her from the line of carny men providing security.
What a change from Tipton, where they made Ben do a fake healin', and Daddy pranced around givin' a spiel that was all lies, callin' hisself Lazarus Dubois...
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When Ben had announced his plans, only two days before, he'd expected to draw crowds on the scale of Tipton. None of the carnies had grasped the full impact of the sensational events of New Canaan. Believe in him or not, Benjamin St. John had become a household name. When Samson sent rousties into the town they'd been playing, to put up posters advertising the healer's "return," radio picked up the story. By the next day, newspapers all across the country were giving it banner headlines.
Ben had remained remarkably composed. But he'd realized that his original idea had to be modified. He'd thought he could perform healings while, outside his tent, the carnival operated in a normal way. With the crowds that now seemed likely, that was out of the question. Instead, for the foreseeable future, each day not involving travel or set-up would be devoted to preparations for a healing session and the session itself, with almost the entire troupe pitching in to help. The only ones who hadn't volunteered were Lila and Sofie. Each evening, Carnivale would revert to being a typical carnival; the publicity value of its association with Ben would assure its success. ("Less'n he kills someone," Lila had said with a smirk, "an' him an' his buddy Samson get sued. Or worse.")
Gazing out at him, Libby could barely recognize the farm boy she'd teased unmercifully little more than a year ago. He'd meant to shave off the shaggy beard he'd grown over the last few weeks, as a disguise. But Samson had convinced him that he'd already made his "innocent youth" point, and from here on, he'd inspire more confidence if he looked mature. So he'd kept the beard; but it, and his hair, were now neatly trimmed. His shirt and trousers were Rollo the Rubber Boy's castoffs: better quality than a roustie's wardrobe, but frayed and worn, as befit a humble worker of miracles.
Jeez, he's handsome. How come I ain't never noticed it before? She remembered the sensation of his arm resting on her shoulders, his being so close that his breath stirred her hair as he spoke to her...
And then she felt a rush of blood to her face. Stop! I'm "Mrs. Jones," proud to be "Mrs. Jones," forever an' ever. An' if I aim to be loyal to Ben, I should get my mind off his breath an' his touch, an' listen to what he's sayin'!
At the moment, he was telling the crowd, "My friends in the carnival have asked me a lot o' questions. So I know what questions you prob'ly have, an' I'll try to answer the main ones.
"First, I believe my powers come from God. But He ain't never spoke to me direct, an' I don't pretend to understand why He does things.
"My powers ain't an iffy, on-again-off-again thing. In my experience, they always work.
"An' it seems I can heal any illness or injury. But I ain't never tried to restore a missin' limb, an' I won't try that - at least not any time soon, or in a gatherin' like this. I 'spect I could do it, but it would require way more life-force than other kinds o' healin'.
"That's the general stuff." He took a deep breath. "Now, as regards what we're gonna do today...I thank you for bringin' so many plants, critters like rats, an' so on. But I want to repeat what we told you on our posters an' over the radio. I ain't gonna kill unwanted puppies an' kittens! Or pets that's old an' sick. It ain't decent."
Damn right, thought Libby. That morning, she'd been on the crew receiving "offerings"; dozens of pets had been abandoned, even after she and others had explained that he wouldn't use them.
A man toward the front of the audience jumped to his feet and yelled, "Why? Ain't curin' a woman o' cancer worth the life of a goddamn puppy?" Someone else called out, "Shut up! If he's able to cure cancer, it's him an' not you gets to make the rules." More voices chimed in, on both sides.
Libby cursed under her breath. She agreed with Ben; but she wouldn't have been able to articulate an answer, and she doubted he could.
He surprised her. "Listen to me!" When he'd gotten everyone's attention, he said calmly, "Ain't nobody entitled to a miraculous healin'. But even animals are entitled to live out their lives an' die in a natural way, 'cept in certain situations. For instance, when we need to kill them for food. Or when they're a threat to us. It's okay to kill mice, rats, an' bats 'cause they're carriers o' disease."
Someone piped up, "Then how do you justify your killin' them buzzards? They eat carrion, don't normally have no contact with humans at all!"
Libby moaned. But Ben had a ready reply. "That was another special case. Jonesy warn't close to death 'cause of illness or accident - someone tried to murder him. He an' his wife were victims of a terrible injustice. I believe that to undo that injustice to humans, it was worth doin' somethin' unjust to birds.
"Besides, by savin' Jonesy, I kept them Damascus men from committin' the sin o' murder. They meant to kill him. That's bad in itself. But they prob'ly hadn't been bad men, before the Ferris Wheel collapse. I hope they'll learn they didn't kill no one - an' be glad, relieved, that they failed."
Wonderful! thought Libby. The crowd obviously agreed with her.
"But..." For a moment, Ben hung his head. "But..." Then he looked up and said steadily, "That's what I believe now. But the truth is, when I done it, I warn't thinkin' o' neither o' them things. All I was thinkin' was that Jonesy an' Libby were good people, folks I knew an' cared about.
"An' I'm, uh, human."
Now the applause was thunderous.
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Ben proceeded to explain how the healing session would be conducted. "This mornin', as we saw the offerings come in, I decided I can definitely heal four people. I may be able to do more. But I've promised to heal four, an' they - or their parents - already know who they are."
Libby guessed he was being conservative. He'd mentioned to friends that he had a special feeling about the number four, because that was the number he'd healed in New Canaan - and the number he'd seen Justin Crowe kill.
He introduced Samson ("the manager o' Carnivale") and Ruthie ("the mother of our strongman, an' the kindest an' best-liked member o' the troupe"). "The two o' them's already helped me," he explained - with an especially affectionate look at Ruthie - "in more ways than I can count. Without them, I wouldn't be alive today.
"An' now, they've helped me select who's most in need o' healin'. It warn't easy to select four from more'n a hundred! I'm sorry I can't heal everyone. We got advice from a respected local doctor, Eb Wainwright - wanna stand up an' let folks see you, Doc?"
Wainwright, who'd been seated in the crowd, not only rose but hopped up on his chair and waved.
"Thank you, Doc," Ben continued. "I hope we'll be able to get this kind o' help from doctors everywhere we go.
"All the people I'm gonna heal are local. Their medical problems are well-known, an' Doc Wainwright's confirmed how serious they are. In three cases out o' the four, you'll be able to see they've been healed. There ain't no fakery goin' on here!"
Not like Tipton, Libby thought grimly. Seems he still resents what he was made to do back there.
"First, Bobby Mason." An excited murmur ran through the crowd. "I guess most o' you know about Bobby. He's eight years old, an' he got hurt six months ago when a tree fell on his pa's truck. He's brain-damaged - can't walk, talk, or feed hisself.
"Bobby's pa is gonna bring him up here an' leave him with me. An' then my friends from the carnival are gonna put potted plants an' caged vermin all around us. It'll take a few minutes - be patient!"
Libby - like most of the crowd - couldn't suppress a gasp on seeing the child. His body was wracked by spasms as his father carried him onstage. Ben sat down on the stage, and the man laid Bobby across his lap. Uncomprehending, the boy made pathetic gurgling sounds as his father walked away. From Libby's vantage point, it appeared that Ben needed all his will power to delay performing the healing.
But delay he did, until he and Bobby were surrounded by a miniature forest, complete with unsavory - caged - "wildlife." Then he held the boy's head between his hands, and said, too softly to be heard beyond the stage and wings, "God, I ain't never been much good at prayin'. But I reckon You know that, an' You understand that I'm tryin' my best. I believe it's You that works through me. An' I'm really tryin' to be a better person, so You'll have a clean, pure instrument to work with. So please, continue to guide me, an' let me heal this child now. Okay? Er, I mean, Amen."
Tears sprang to Libby's eyes as she recalled the farce in Tipton, with Stumpy goading the crowd to chant "Jee-sus!" at the top of their lungs.
And then, for the first time, she actually saw - close up - what happened when Ben performed a miracle. Before her eyes, plants withered and died; animals that had been struggling to break out of their cages collapsed and lay still. The crowd gave a mighty chorus of shrieks.
Bobby Mason sat up slowly, and looked around. Confused and frightened, he said, "Wh-what's goin' on? Where the hell am I?"
Only Ben and a handful of carnies in the wings heard his actual words; but as he leapt to his feet, the crowd could see he'd been healed.
The shrieks rose to a new crescendo.
The startled boy let out a series of oaths.
Ben threw his head back and laughed.
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More plants and vermin were brought in, and he went on to heal a five-year-old girl suffering from leukemia; a man who'd been severely crippled in a farm accident; and a woman whose beatings at the hands of her husband (now in prison) had left her partially paralyzed and blind in one eye. Both adults had been chosen over others because they were breadwinners whose families included young children. It turned out that Ben was able to heal two more, picked in advance but not given promises: a man and a woman, afflicted by different forms of cancer.
His first venture into public healing had been a resounding success. Libby found it hard to imagine his having the stamina to repeat it almost every day. Nevertheless, she was suffused with a warm glow as she turned away from the stage, headed for the nearest tent exit.
"Lib! Wait up!"
She stopped and looked back, puzzled. "Ben?"
"Can we talk a sec?"
Ruthie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left - after they'd held hands for a meaningfully long moment. On her way out, she paused, beaming, to tell Libby, "You were great!"
Libby strolled to join Ben. "It's you who were great," she said softly. "I knew what you could do, but still - seein' you heal so many people just bowled me over."
"Thanks. It still surprises me, too," he admitted. "But every time I use my powers, I get more of a feel for it. By now I can control the reachin' out for life-force, an' I'm sure that if there warn't enough plants an' stuff, I could stop without harmin' humans." With a conspiratorial grin, he continued, "I'm gonna stay in here for a while, let Ruthie an' Samson field questions from the press. I've said enough to them. If they can't talk to me today, they'll leave sooner. An' that'll give us a chance to straighten up an' get the carnival in operation for tonight."
"Good thought."
"An', Libby - I wanted to thank you again for the introduction you gave me. To thank you, an' apologize."
"Apologize?" She gaped at him. "What for?"
"I knew it would be hard on you," he said quietly, with downcast eyes. "It's so soon after Jonesy's death...askin' that o' you woulda been enough, more than enough. But I had you workin' on other things too, all this mornin'. Meetin' people, takin' their plants an' animals."
Looking up at last, he said miserably, "I only found out this afternoon that you an' Dora Mae worked the door together back in Tipton, askin' for donations. I swear, I didn't know half what was goin' on there! All them things I had you doin' this mornin' must o' been painful for you too, with your sister gone. Please believe me, I'm sorry."
Libby was "bowled over" again. Raised in the rough-and-tumble world of the carnival, she wasn't used to anyone's showing this much concern for her feelings.
She needed a minute to collect her thoughts. And blink back tears. Then she said gently, "Thank you, Ben, for thinkin' of it. An' yes, what I did today was painful. I miss Dora Mae, an' Jonesy, every day o' my life.
"But you know what? I needed to start doin' things, to feel like I'm pullin' my weight with the carnival. An' I'm grateful you gave me the chance. I hope you'll let me keep it up. I want to keep doin' all the things I did today. Please!"
His sudden smile made her think of sunlight bursting through the clouds. "Really? That's great! I need all the helpers I can get. 'Specially your introducin' me, to give me a - what's the word, 'testimonial'? You're the only one who can describe the state Jonesy was in before I healed him."
'Course, she reflected, after the press coverage we're gettin', everyone will have heard about it...
Is he just tryin' to help me feel useful?
She decided she didn't care.
"I feel better, too," he confided, "now that I'm doin' somethin'."
She took a closer look at him. "You look bushed, though. Is there any truth to that story we used in Tipton, 'bout healin' takin' a toll on the healer?"
The moment she'd asked the question, she regretted it. Was it too personal?
But Ben said immediately, "No, that was just an excuse Samson made up, so he could get away with stagin' only one phony healin' - usin' one 'plant' - per day. What I did today was a strain on me, but only 'cause it's so hard to refuse the folks I can't heal. The healin' don't weaken me." He grinned. "In fact, I understand now that every time I do it, it weakens Brother Justin! Only a little, an' not for long. But it's gonna cause him some embarrassin' moments, that's for sure."
"Oh, good!" She snickered.
Then she thought of another question she'd been wanting to ask. He seemed to be in a receptive mood, so...
"Ben? I've been wonderin' about somethin'. Stop me if you don't want to answer.
"My daddy's a good man, but he sometimes tells tall tales. He was one o' the carnies what found you an' brung you out o' that cornfield -"
"He was?" Ben interjected. Frowning, he said, "I hate to think about that. But I should find out who all those men were, an' thank 'em personally. I'll thank your daddy next time I see him."
"I'm sure he don't care 'bout bein' thanked. But he said...he said..." She took a deep breath and blurted it out. "He said you an' Justin Crowe both have blue blood. Is that one o' his tall tales, or is it really true?"
Watching her face, Ben said quietly, "I guess there ain't no point in tryin' to keep it secret. You can believe your daddy - it's true. Crowe an' me are both...somethin' that ain't exactly normal." He shrugged. "Obviously."
Blue blood?
"Thank you for tellin' me. I'm more in awe of you than ever." Even if you do have somethin' scary in common with Crowe.
Another question, of far more significance for her, had been preying on her mind. She hadn't anticipated having a chance to catch Ben alone. But now, suddenly, the opportunity was here, if she could bring herself to seize it...
"B-Ben?" She summoned up all her courage. "While we're talkin', there's somethin' else I've been wonderin' about. Somethin' I really need to ask."
"Yeah?" He shifted nervously. Guessing what it was?
"Yeah." She swallowed hard. "You told me Sofie gave you a good explanation for her lies about New Canaan, but you wouldn't say what it was - only that Jonesy's definitely dead.
"I've turned that over an' over in my mind, an' the only reason I can come up with for your not tellin' me what she said is that somehow, you're tryin' to spare me."
His Adam's apple was bobbing up and down, and he couldn't meet her eyes.
"Ben? I want you to be honest with me. If you tell me now that your reason for keepin' whatever it is to yourself ain't to spare me, I'll accept it, an' never ask again.
"Can you tell me that, Ben? Truthfully?"
At last he looked at her, and said wretchedly, "No."
She'd asked for the truth. So why did she feel as if he'd punched her in the gut?
"You were tryin' to spare me," she said slowly. "What was it?" He hesitated, and she forced out the words, "Somethin' 'bout Sofie an' Jonesy?"
"Shit, Libby -"
"Did she claim Jonesy told her he still loved her?"
"No. It warn't nothin' he said -" Unfortunately, the emphasis made clear it was worse than that.
"Oh, my God," Libby whispered. "They made love?" Then, more firmly: "Tell me, Ben! I'm strong enough to take it."
"Yeah, I reckon you are." He clasped her hands in his. "I'm sorry, Lib. Maybe I shoulda told you the truth before now. I reckon you're owed the truth.
"Accordin' to Sofie, she was bein' held prisoner in a shed. Jonesy got there an' knocked out one' o' Crowe's goons, an' they tied him up. Jonesy told her he was married to you. But then they made love, for hours."
Libby felt herself swaying. But she steadied herself, and muttered through clenched teeth, "Her fault, I know it. Not his."
"I dunno," Ben said bleakly. "But here's the worst of it. The only reason Jonesy got killed is that they spent so much time makin' love in that shed, a second goon came to see what had happened to the first one."