What the Wind Knows - Amy Harmon Page 0,39

and mothballs, and the thought of wearing the garment for any length of time was distasteful. I looked like Mary Poppins’s dowdy sister and wondered why the first Anne Gallagher had picked a color that wouldn’t have looked any better on her, considering I was her doppelganger.

I took off the suit and blouse and went on to the next thing.

A white sheath, the neckline square and unadorned except for some bits of lace at the hem and down the center, looked promising. Another piece, embroidered with the same lace, was clearly designed to be worn over the sheath. It had slim elbow-length sleeves and sides that hung open to reveal the dress beneath. A thick sash was banded around the two garments, and I pulled the sheath over my head, donned the thin overdress, and tied the sash loosely around my waist, the bow in back. It needed to be pressed and hung almost to my ankles, but it fit. I stared at my image in the long oval mirror and realized with a start that it was the dress my great-grandmother had worn in the picture with Declan and Thomas. In the photograph, my great-grandmother had worn a round-brimmed white hat wreathed in flowers. The dress was too pretty for everyday wear, but I was relieved to have something I could call my own. I pulled my hair off my face and tried to knot it at my nape.

A soft knock at the door had me abandoning my hair and curling my bare toes nervously against the wood floors.

“Come in,” I called, kicking the corset across the floor. It slid under the bed, a buckle peeping out accusingly.

“You found your things, then,” Thomas said, his mouth soft and his eyes sad.

It felt like yet another lie to admit to a previous ownership, so I drew attention to the wrinkles in the linen. “It needs to be pressed.”

“Yes . . . well, it’s been in that chest a long time,” he said.

I nodded and smoothed it self-consciously.

“Is there anything else in there you can wear?” he asked, his voice pained.

“A few things,” I hedged. I would need to sell my ring and the diamond studs in my ears. I couldn’t get by with the contents of the chest. Thomas clearly agreed.

“You’ll need more than the dress you were married in. You could wear it to Mass, I suppose,” he mused.

“Married in?” I said, too surprised to guard my tongue. I touched my head, thinking of the hat Anne had worn in the picture. It hadn’t looked like a wedding photo.

“You don’t remember that either?” His voice rose in disbelief, and the softness of fond memories left his eyes when I answered him with a shake of my head. “It was a good day, Anne. You and Declan were so happy.”

“I didn’t see a . . . veil . . . in the chest,” I said inanely.

“You wore Brigid’s veil. You didn’t like it very much. It was beautiful, a little out of fashion, but you and Brigid . . .” Thomas shrugged as if the poor relationship was old news.

Mystery solved. I breathed deeply and tried to meet Thomas’s gaze.

“I’ll change into the wool suit,” I murmured, looking away, desperate to change the subject.

“I don’t know why Brigid saved that. Ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. But you’re right. That dress won’t do.”

“Brigid says I need to cut my hair,” I said. “But I’d rather not. I just need some pins or ties, and I’ll make it look presentable. I could also use a little help tying my boots.”

“Turn around,” Thomas ordered.

I did as he asked, unsure but obedient. I gasped when he took my hair in his hands and began braiding, weaving the strands around each other until he had a long plait. I was so surprised, I remained perfectly still, welcoming the feel of his hands in my hair once more. He tied off the braid and looped the end and then looped it again, piercing the whole thing several times with what felt like hairpins.

“Done!” he exclaimed.

I felt the coiled knot at the base of my skull and turned around. “You are full of surprises, Thomas Smith. You carry hairpins in your pockets?”

His cheeks pinked the slightest bit, a blush so faint I would have missed it if I hadn’t been standing so close and looking so intently.

“Brigid told me to give them to you.” He cleared his throat. “My mother always had long hair. I watched her

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