Chapter 3
The man named Thomas, her cousin, looked at her immediately and knew Anna Gray was telling the truth. But she was beginning to understand it wouldn't be so easy to convince the others.
She'd dreamed for years of the day she'd finally be reunited with her mother and brother again.
Before they were to ride for the Lee's camp, Thomas told her she was welcome to clean herself up in the bathroom.
She ran a bath of steaming water stepping side once it was full. Anna scrubbed herself down with rosewater soap and lavender oils until her skin was pink and the dirt had finally left her nails.
She'd found family, and they were kind. Arthur looked at her with scrutiny and mistrust, but he wasn't outright cruel. Thomas treated her like she was an angel made of glass; unspeakably fragile and just as elusive.
She wrapped herself in a light pink silk kimono and walked out into the hall, entering what appeared to be a bedroom. Anna sat herself at a vanity and brushed her hair, looking at herself in the mirror.
The woman was always startled to see her eyes again. All her life they'd been dark but after she'd dug herself from that earthy grave, her eyes were almost milky pale. And these eyes saw things her others hadn't.
She was startled when she looked in the mirror again and saw a man standing behind her.
She turned around and stood up nervously, clinging to the brush in her hand.
But it was only Thomas. He stood with his hands in his pockets, observing her. His face was expressionless. "It's been ages since someone's sat in that chair," he said.
Upon seeing his face, she remembered how it was she'd come across him.
In a field with a gun against his head. She had so many questions swirling in her mind.
As if he could hear her thoughts, he said. "I know you're who you say you are, but nonetheless, I have questions."
She stood rod straight, gazing at him firmly. "So do I."
"Why aren't you dead?" he asked.
"Why aren't you?" she asked back.
To her surprise, he smirked. "We're not going to talk about that," he said.
"You were trying to kill yourself," she said. "Like your mother did."
A silent fury stiffened his shoulders and tensed his jaw. "How the fuck would you know?" he asked bitingly.
She told the truth. "Because I've spoken to her," she said.
Thomas' eyes widened slightly, unsure how to respond except impulsively. "Where was she? Heaven, or hell?"
"Heaven," she said. "Aunt Martha was clever. When I died, she was the one who guided me to the other side."
~.~
Thomas couldn't believe it. Most naked women in nothing but a silk robe would be shying away from a conversation, trying to shoo him out the door, or…
Well, other events would ensue.
But she might as well have been in regular clothes. She was making direct eye contact with him, unfaltering and strong, as if she wasn't fazed in the slightest. She didn't seem to feel vulnerable around him at all.
Some part of him knew he should've felt daunted or challenged by that, but he didn't. He was proud.
How else would she have appeared, like a ghost from the past, but barefoot, riding bareback on a black stallion, her hair dancing with the wind?
Polly's daughter, through and through.
At the sound of his mother's name, his heart raced. "But she was a sinner and sinners go to 'ell."
"Not if you know the way," she said, shaking her head.
Thomas couldn't help it. He sat down on the bed, absorbed by her words. Thomas Shelby was nothing, if not superstitious. He believed every word she said. "How did you know where to go?" he asked.
"It's not like what the bible says," she began. "You don't just end up in Heaven or Hell, you have to travel there. When you die, there are miles and miles of endless dirt roads lined with fences. There's no signs, but before you turn onto a new road, there is an angel there, ready to give you directions."
"And my mother helped you," he said.
This was the first time he'd seen fear on her face. She looked him dead in the eye. "She told me to ignore anyone on the roads who spoke to me in a language that I understood."
Thomas' gaze was fixed on Anna. "Why?" he said in a low voice.
Goosebumps rose on his arms and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end at her words. "Because demons know Romani."