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 it right back, I’m just admiring.” She said when she felt a cool breeze blow by.
The ring was gorgeous. It was a Claddagh Irish ring. As all Claddagh rings did, it had a crown on top of two hands holding a heart. In the middle of the heart was the most beautiful heart shaped diamond.
“Let love and friendship reign.” She said quietly. She turned the ring over to read the engraving on the back.
“Forever Yours, Brendan.”
She felt that damn pang in her heart this time. Then she felt the tears roll down her face.
“What happened to you two? You were both so young. I’ve never even felt anything close to what he must have felt for you. I have never even had the desire to try. Does that mean that I never will?”
She felt another breeze blow by her, but this time it felt warm. Almost like a hug. She placed the ring carefully back into the cup and closed the lid then wiped the tears from her cheek. It was time to take a ride. She needed to clear her head. She hadn’t cried in many years and yet the last two days had made her more emotional than she had been her whole life. She was becoming girly and she didn’t like it. Before she cleared her head too much though, she thought she would visit the local library. Maybe she could find some information on these two. Later she would come back and clean up their grave sites.
The morning had turned out to be a pretty good one. She called her insurance agent and found out that the life insurance policy her mother had bought her when she was born was now worth $10,000 cash value. She drove straight there, signed the papers and was told that the money should be direct deposited in her bank account within a few days.
She used the rest of her last paycheck and tips to purchase some art supplies, lots of food for the pantry, a couple of magazines and the new Nora Roberts novel, and paid the taxi cab driver a fifty dollar tip in advance to at least take her things to the front door. She had him stop by the storage company and have them meet him with her television as well. She wasn’t sure how she was going to carry that by herself into the house, she figured that she would manage somehow.
Drew supposed the next investment she was going to have to make was a car. Living downtown near everything that she could possibly need made owning a motorcycle as you’re only means of transportation no problem at all. Now that she lived out in BFE she was finding it difficult to get her things where she needed on nothing but a Harley.
She had one more stop to make before she went home and that was the library. She didn’t know what kind of public records she would be able to get from 1859 and 1860 but she was bound and determined to get whatever she could.
She had always loved the smell of the library, the smell of dust and very old pages. If knowledge had a smell she imagined that would be it. The librarian was a punk little thing with pitch black hair and tattoos creeping up the back and sides of her neck. She looked like someone that you would see bartending downtown or poking needles at a tat shop, not really your book worm type. Much like Drew she realized to her dismay. She wanted to grow up all of a sudden and wasn’t too sure that she hadn’t already in the last couple of days.
“And what can I do for you?” The girl said rudely as she read some kind of book of poetry, never looking up to see who exactly she was helping.
“I need some information on a couple of people that died around 1860, Brendan O’Keefe and Lezetta LaBlanc. Do you have any idea where I might be able to look them up?”
The girl just sat frozen staring at her book as if she was taking the time to finish her paragraph instead of doing her job. She finally closed it and looked up at Drew suspiciously.
“What do you want to know about them?” She said. “Well, I bought a house, his house I think, though at this point I am not really certain, and I would like to know its history, their history. Can I find that kind of information here?”
“Not much in the books. I can tell you a little bit about them if you want. I’m going out for a cigarette in about ten minutes; if you want I will meet you outside.” The girl spoke quietly as if there was some huge secret that she was hiding.
“Really?” Drew didn’t know whether to be excited or afraid. She had grown up around this place. How was it that moving companies and taxi cab drivers were automatically afraid of coming close to her house and that funky little librarians knew the story of a couple that died one hundred and fifty years ago and she didn’t know a damn thing.
The girl just nodded her head and went back to reading her book. Drew went back outside and sat on the steps of the library and waited. She closed her eyes and took in the smells of the city. She absent mindedly reached into her boot and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket. When she inhaled that first puff it gave her a headache and almost made her sick, but the taste was amazing. She hadn’t smoked in two days and hadn’t even missed it.
“Hmm. Strange.” she said as she looked at the cigarette then smashed it on the stairs.
“So, you bought the O’Keefe house, huh? Have you stayed there yet? You won’t stay long when you do.” She said as she sat next to Drew and lit her own cigarette.
“I’ve stayed there two nights actually. It isn’t so bad. Can you tell me about them? I saw their graves today.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “You have stayed the re? I’ve heard that the ghost of Brendan O’Keefe haunts that house and that Miss Lezetta haunts the cemetery. Have you met them?”
“Well, not technically. What do you know about them? Was she a voodoo queen or something?”
“Well, I don’t know if you know much about Voodoo, it was quite popular then, that was when Marie Laveau was still alive, and because Marie Laveau was such a powerful woman the law didn’t say much to anyone who practiced it. Lezetta was believed to practice something as well only it wasn’t voodoo. It was some kind of black magic. All kinds of people would go to Miss L
aveau for help with love, money, sex, that kind of thing. Lezetta supposedly worked other kinds of magic, magic that caused harm to people, even death.
“From what I have heard, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Coal dark hair that matched her eyes and well, I suppose her heart too. Her skin was a gorgeous bronze. She was Creole but the Spanish obviously out shown the French. Anyway, the story is that she worked for Brendan who moved to America after his parents died in Ireland. He had been left responsible for his sister whom Lezetta didn’t get along with. They were always at it I guess. Anyway, Brendan and Lezetta evidently fell madly in love with each other, probably a spell that she put on him, and they became inseparable.
“One evening Brendan’s sister, Mary Ann, who was very popular with the gentlemen and was at the time courting several of them, went missing. Her body was found a few days later somewhere behind the house in the swamps. Her eyes were gone and she had some type of markings engraved in her skin.
“The townspeople automatically assumed that it was
Lezetta. They had been suspicious of her witchery for quite some time. After Mary Ann’s murder they were certain. Some people believe that the heartbroken men just needed someone to blame it on. Others believe that some heartbroken, jealous man did it and made it look like witch craft. Either way, they came straight for Lezetta and burned her right there where the cemetery is now.”
Drew was speechless. What a horrible story. What a horrible way to die, for both girls.
“Well, I’ve got to get back to work. I hope that helped you out some. I wouldn’t be hanging out too close to that cemetery if I were you though.”
“Wait!” Drew yelled as she realized the girl was going back inside the library. “Who burns the candles?”
“What?” The girl asked almost stumbling as she turned quickly around.
“The candles at the grave and the coins, who did all of that?” Drew watched the girl as the wheels were obviously turning in her head.
“Oh, beats me. As far as I know no one has been there for a very, very long time. People are afraid to go there. It isn’t like Miss Laveau. Lezetta wasn’t a much respected woman. I don’t imagine that she had any followers. I am sure that there is a lot more to the story that I don’t know. That’s just what I heard growing up.”
Drew was afraid of that. “What about Brendan? What happened to him?”
“Look, I don’t know any more than I have already told you, I got to go. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” She opened the door to the library then she stopped and turned around, “He hung himself right after Lezetta and Mary Ann died. That really is all that I know. You may be able to find more information in public records or in old newspaper ads, but I doubt it. Most of that stuff was kind of kept quiet back then. What is known, or thought anyway, has been passed on from generation to generation by word of mouth. Urban legends you might say. Who knows what the real story is? Good luck with it though.”
“Thanks.” Drew said, but it was too late. The girl had already disappeared behind the tempered glass door.
She had a feeling that whatever else she wanted to know about what happened one hundred and fifty years ago was going to have to come from the sources themselves. Normally that would be impossible, not in her new world.
The ride home was a peaceful one. She knew in her heart that everything was going to work out just fine when she saw that the cab driver had neatly left her stuff inside the front door. She was finally home, a place that she belonged.
Drew’s world started to change even more. Sometimes the color would disappear while she slept leaving only the grays of the underworld and the bright red of blood. She could smell the metal and taste the rust in her mouth when she woke. Someone continued to watch her as she walked through the swamps and the woods, sometimes in a hurry, so fast that she could hear her own heartbeat. Sometimes she was the watcher and saw images that made her wake in sweats and screams. She never seemed to remember what it was that she saw when she woke though.
Yet, other times she danced. She held the man so closely and he held her tight in return. It was almost as if they were holding each other for the first time, and the last, cherishing every minute, and not wanting to let go. They were so close at times that they were like one, and in her dreams they made love, something that Drew thought would never happen, not in her lifetime, not to her. In her dreams it was natural, it was meant to be, and his eyes held her and told her everything she had ever needed to know.
The next few days flew by for Drew. The house was exactly the way she wanted it. The yard was getting there. Drew had already decided on what flowers she was going to plant outside next to the pool and around the cemetery. It was going to take some time, but she would get there.
Her ghost hadn’t bothered her too much since their confrontation at the staircase. She supposed that they had come to an understanding. Drew felt him watch her every move though. Sometimes it was annoying, sometimes a little freaky, and sometimes when she couldn’t feel his presence, she felt lonely.
The dreams that she had been having faded in and out of reality for her. She thought she was dreaming when she would see the man of her dreams out of the corner of her eye, but would catch herself wide awake. She would have to shake it off and go about her business. Strangely though, time had started to speed up, and one day ran into the next. Drew became a hermit. She was all alone (without another human) and was beginning to lose track of the real world.
“Drew? Hello?” Liza hollered through the front door. She had knocked several times, but there was no answer. She heard classical music being played on a piano from inside the house and it was obviously too loud for her to be heard. As soon as she stepped in the music stopped.
“Is anyone home?” Liza said again.
Drew came out of the hallway with paint covered everything. There was blue paint splattered in her hair along with dots of yellow, smudges of black and brown on her cheek, and a rainbow of colors on her jeans and shirt where she had used them to wipe off or shape her brush.
“Why did you stop playing? I was really getting into that one. Oh, Liza!” She said in surprise when she saw her friend inside of the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Um, who were you talking to?” Liza said worried about her friend. “Do you have company?”
“You could say that.” Drew said looking towards the piano.
“Why haven’t you answered my calls, Drew? I’ve been trying to call youfor a week and a half.”
“Oh, I lost my phone. Did you say a week and a half?” Drew asked in surprise.
“Yes, I did, and when I called the gallery to see if I could reach you there they said that you haven’t shown up to work for a week and a half as well. So, I thought that I would try Boudreaux’s thinking that maybe you went back to work there full time. They haven’t seen you since the first night that you went back. What is going on Drew? Are you ok?” Liza walked to her friend now. Drew could see that she was really concerned.
“Of course I am ok. Don’t I look ok?” Drew shook her head as if to say not to answer that. She realized that she probably did look a mess. She didn’t grasp that she hadn’t left the house all week. She couldn’t even remember the last time that she had had a bath even.
“I’ve just been so busy, Liza, with the house. Doesn’t it look great? I have been cleaning up the yard and I got rid of all those old dust clothes. I dusted the place from top to bottom, well, the downstairs anyway; I washed all of the dishes and threw out all of the…”
“Drew! You have shut yourself off from the world. What is going on with you?”
“The cemetery looks great; did you stop by and see the cemetery? I am going to have to buy you guys a new weed eater and lawn mower I’ve gotten quite attached to yours; hey how long do you think that canned goods stay good? I’ve got some that are over a hundred and fifty years old…” Drew was rambling as she had taken a cloth from her back pocket and was vigorously wiping down tables and the piano.
“Drew, damn it, would you listen to yourself?” Liza went to her friend now and shook her. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. The dark rings and puffs around Drew’s eyes told her that she hadn’t slept or probably eaten anything in a while. She thought that Drew had finally lost her mind.
“Why don’t you pack a bag and come and stay with Tim and I for the weekend? It’s my last weekend before school starts and I could really use your help getting everything ready forour Labor Day crab boil. Where is your room? Let’s get you some things together ok?” Liza turned Drew around in the direction of the hall where she had come from earlier.
With a laugh Drew said, “Liza, I am fine! Really! I’ve just been so caught up in my new house, and the last couple of days I have started painting again and I can’t seem to stop.”
“That’s nice honey. I’m so glad that you have found your passion. Now where is that bedroom?” Liza saw the light from the back sitting room and pushed Drew in that direction, passing her bedroom. When she saw the paintings hanging from wall to wall in the sitting room her breath caught. Drew wasn’t just passionate, she had become obsessed.
“Drew? Who is the man in all of the paintings, sweetie?” The paintings that hung everywhere were absolutely gorgeous. She always knew that Drew was talented but this went beyond anything she had ever seen before. Such fine detail in some of them and others where blurry like that was exactly the way that Drew had seen it. Every one of them had a face in it, and each face was the same only with different expressions or back grounds.
“Oh, I’m not sure. Isn’t he gorgeous though? I dream about him every night. We have danced in the ballroom and we have sat on the couch and had many conversations only I don’t really remember what we talked about or what his voice sounds like.” She blushed then. “He has even brushed my hair in one of my dreams. It sounds crazy… I think I am in love with him and I don’t even know his name.”
The light in the room seemed to fade for a moment then, almost like it blushed along with her.
Ghost of a Chance Book 1 in Above the Grave Trilogy Page 6
