He still didn’t answer her so she turned around and walked out of the front door.
It felt really good to sit on her bike. She started down the drive when she spotted the old cemetery again. It was an above ground cemetery, as most cemeteries were in New Orleans and it was surrounded by a very old stone and rustic iron fence. She decided to take a look around and noted to herself that she would bring the weed eater over this way. It was very disrespectful to let a cemetery go like this and since she supposed that she owned it now, she wanted to make sure that she kept it up.
There were only three graves in the cemetery but there was one that really caught her eye. A Brendan O’Keefe lay in the center of them.
“Ooh. Well, well.” She said sarcastically. “Is that who you are, my fine bossy room mate?”
She didn’t need an answer. Something down deep told her that it was and she again felt a small pang down in the pit of her stomach. Even though his was the largest and most beautiful tomb with its large Celtic cross for a tombstone, she could clearly see that it hadn’t been the most visited. She ran her fingers over the date 1830 to 1860. He had only been five years older than her when he died. This peaked her curiosity even more.
Next to Brendan’s was a much smaller tomb. It had at least thirty partially melted candles around it that had mostly been knocked over and washed slightly away from it. Instead of a cross there was an angel hovering over her holding a stone heart in her hand. At the base of the tomb lay a small covered metal cup that was rusted with age. She debated on whether or not to open the cup but her curiosity got the best of her and she couldn’t help but lift the lid and take a peek inside.
As soon as she lifted the lid she snapped it shut again. “Holy shit!” She exclaimed then lifted the lid slowly again to make sure that what she saw was really gold coins inside of the cup.
Growing up around New Orleans she knew the stories of Mari Laveau and how people would take money and place at her grave in hopes that she would grant their deepest darkest wishes. That was the only thing that she could think of now as she saw the cup full of money at the foot of the grave. She felt ill all of a sudden when she realized that she was staring at hoodoo money.
“A witch?” She said out loud as she looked up at the tombstone angel. “A voodoo witch?”
She put the lid back on and went to the front of the tomb to read the name. Half expecting it to say Mari Laveau, she walked slowly and very carefully not to step on any of the candles.
“Lezetta LeBlanc.” She read aloud. “Crap. I just said her name.” She whispered and covered her mouth. She wasn’t sure what the voodoo rules were, shejust read people’s tarot cards for Christ’s sake. She could somewhat tell people their futures not change them or alter their lives in any way. As far as she was concerned it didn’t matter what those cards said, everyone was responsible for and made their own destiny.
The dates on Lezetta’s stone were 1835 to 1859. She had only been a year younger than herself. Drew didn’t want to ask any favors of the witch. She didn’t want to be obligated to anyone or anything but, out of respect for the young woman, she wanted to leave her a gift. She felt in her ragged jeans pocket for a quarter and found only a crumpled up five dollar bill. She bent back down to the cup and lifted the lid once more. She tried to tuck the bill behind some of the coins that were already in the cup without actually disturbing the coins. She failed. Some of the coins went tumbling from their current position. That’s when she noticed the most beautiful diamond ring that she had ever seen. It was so obviously antique. She wanted so badly to touch it, to pick it up and put it on her finger.
To hell with rituals and rules, she thought.
“May I?” She said to the grave and then picked up the ring to have a better look. “I promise I will put