I pulled the small leather-bound book from my bag and placed it in her outstretched hand.
She skimmed through a few pages. “I’m pretty sure these items were passed down together.”
Noah mumbled something.
Hazel raised her eyebrow. “What?”
“What do we do now?” he asked, his voice teetering on irritable.
Hazel left the room. When she returned, she placed a small brown box on the coffee table. “I suggest you bury this.” She packed the journal and voodoo doll inside the box, along with the doll I used to bind Sarah. “Destroying the doll could pose a risk to Noah, but so long as it’s hidden from the Williams family, they can never reclaim their hold on the Caldwells.”
“You mean we can’t stop the curse,” I said. “Not really.”
“But you can hide it,” she said, pushing the box toward us, “and that’s the next best thing.” She added, “Just don’t tell anyone where you bury it. Not even me.”
Noah nodded and took the box. “So this is it?”
Hazel smiled the first warm smile I’d ever seen from her. “You’re finally free.”
Spring was less than a month away, but it was warm enough for a hike. We headed west, taking the last New Jersey exit before the Pennsylvania state line. After driving for miles and miles along a desolate stretch of road, Noah stopped the truck in front of a cluster of abandoned buildings.
“This place is an old mining town,” he said. “I used to come here with my dad when I was a kid.”
We got out and strode across the dirt road, passing a small cemetery.
Almost every grave had one of the same three last names. I wondered if any of them had dealt with family curses that prevented them from leaving this place, the way Noah’s family had been bound to Hackensack.
“It was before he got sick,” he continued. “I think he’s getting better now, though. Now that – well –”
I grinned. “You can say it. It won’t jinx anything.”
“It couldn’t have been Sarah, though,” he said, as if confused.
I shrugged. “As long as it’s over, does it matter what was causing your dad’s illness?”
Noah shoved his hands in his pockets and led me farther along our path. We stopped by a large tree hidden from the road by the short stubby buildings and graveyard.
“I don’t want to belong to anyone,” Noah said.
I kicked away a small pebble, my smile fading as I saw Noah’s expression turn serious. “Then don’t?”
He shook his head and took my hand. “But I want you to belong to me. Is that wrong?”
I tilted my head, studying his intense eyes, the strength in his hand as it gripped mine, our fingers intertwined together. I’d painted my nails blue again – the color of Noah’s Chevy. I supposed some girls wore their heart on their sleeves. I painted mine on my fingertips.
“It’s not wrong if that person wants to belong to you,” I said. “And I do. More than anything.”
With a nod, he dropped my hand and turned to the tree. “Here’s as good a spot as any.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Looks perfect.”
It was there that we buried our past. Even though it felt as though I was starting over with Noah, it felt right. Like we could actually work things out now. Together. As a couple. We’d get to know each other – whoever we’d been all along – without anyone else standing in the way.
I had the one thing I wanted with Noah: A chance.
He patted the dirt where he’d buried the box, then stood. Draping his arm over my shoulders, he turned his head to kiss me on the temple. “Ready to go home, brat?”
I grinned. “After everything we’ve been through, I’m ready for anything.”
As we walked away, I thought I heard a strange jingle coming from one of the abandoned shops, followed by the distant echo of laughter. Icy needles stitched up my spine.
I whirled around. Nothing.
I took a deep breath, heart racing.
Hazel said we were safe now.
I should have found solace in that.
But I knew the truth.
We all lie.
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Something like Voodoo Page 26