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She embraces Ronan and kisses him on each cheek. “You’re as handsome as ever.” She smiles. “And who do we have here?”
“Bea, this is Mary.”
I hold out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“That’s no greeting!” She pulls me into a hug. A waft of sugar and wildflowers hits me.
She smells homey.
“You two are lucky,” Bea says. “No one else signed up for this tour, so you get a private showing. Let’s go in.”
Ronan grabs my hand—I try to ignore the sparks that shoot through me—and we follow Bea into the cemetery.
“We’re not alone here,” Bea says. “Spirits are among us, but don’t be frightened. No one means you any harm.”
A chill runs through my body at Bea’s words, and I grasp Ronan’s hand a bit tighter.
“First,” Bea says, “a bit of history. You already know all this, Ronan, but I want to give your lady friend the full picture.”
“Absolutely,” Ronan agrees.
Bea smiles, showing bright white teeth. “St. Louis Cemetery Number One was established in 1789, and it is the final resting place of many notables, including the famous Voodoo queen Marie Laveau. The cemetery is divided into squares, and each square contains rows of aboveground tombs and crypts.”
“Why are they above ground?” I ask.
“New Orleans sits below sea level, and the water table is very high. If people were buried underground, their caskets would often float to the surface during heavy rains. Aboveground tombs were built to keep the deceased dry.”
Eerie images of floating dead bodies swim through my mind.
“Since it’s just you two,” Bea continues, “where would you like to start?”
“Marie Laveau,” Ronan says.
“Of course. But as you know, Ronan, there is some controversy over whether Marie Laveau is actually buried in this tomb. Some historians believe that the tomb belongs to her daughter, who had the same name.”
We follow Bea to a white rectangular structure with a raised base surrounded by a fence. Colorful Mardi Gras beads, along with coins, flowers, and candles, rest at the bottom of the tomb.
“Marie Laveau was a famous Voodoo queen who lived in New Orleans in the nineteenth century.”
“What are all the beads for?” I ask.
“Those are offerings left by visitors.”
“Offerings for what?”
“From those who seek her favor or guidance, or for those offering simple prayers. Legend has it that if you draw three X’s on her tomb, make a wish, and leave an offering, your wish will come true. It’s illegal now to deface the tomb in any way, but you can still leave an offering. We prefer offerings that are biodegradable, but some visitors still leave coins and beads.”
I don’t believe in any of this stuff, but I feel a sense of peace at the tomb. I wish I had something to leave because I could sure use some guidance right about now.
We continue the tour, and some of the tombs are truly beautiful and ornate with sculptures of religious symbols, angels, and each one is unique. Some are gray stone, and some white.
“Families would often commission sculptors to create intricate statues and designs to honor their loved ones. Some tombs even have stained-glass windows and decorative ironwork,” Bea explains.
“That was amazing,” I say to Ronan when our tour has come to an end.
He drapes a strong arm over my shoulders. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. What else would you like to do while you’re here?”
I think for a moment before I answer. The love spell in my purse… Marie Laveau… Leaving an offering for guidance…
