“HasanyonetalkedtoWade today?” I ask, clutching the accordion folder that was found in the safe to my chest.
It was the only thing in there, but inside of it are a lot of papers. Hopefully, there is something in here that can help us.
“He was still working on the fence,” Gus says.
“Still in a mood,” Rhett adds.
I nod, glancing at the door. “Let’s go over this in here.”
Gus closes the door as Rhett and I get comfortable on Grannie’s large bed. Gus joins us, and we sit in a circle around the folder.
I take a deep breath, looking up at them. “Are you ready for this?”
“We don’t even know what’s in there,” Rhett says.
Gus sighs. “He’s right. It could be nothing.”
Nodding, I reach for the elastic band and remove it, then open it to pull out the first slot of papers.
Gus and Rhett’s gaze is firmly on me as I flip through the papers.
“It’s stuff from my parents’ death. Report. Obituary. My mom’s birth certificate,” I say, an ache forming in my chest. I’ve never seen any of these before—other than the obituary—so it’s hitting me a little hard.
I move on to the next slot.
My birth certificate. Court papers. Custody Orders. I’ve also seen all of these multiple times.
Next is property and house information, stuff I already have from the lawyer.
There are receipts for the animals and some other large purchases—like farming equipment.
And then, in the second to last slot, I pull the few papers out and they justfeeldifferent.
Heavier. Scratchier. They make my fingers tingle.
I pause before looking at them and instead look up at the guys. Their eyes are slightly wide, and it’s like they can feel it too—that these are different. That the air around us is charged and tense.
I clear my throat, then turn the pages over.
At the top, in old script, is Curse by Naomi.
The rest of the form is in typewriter font, as if someone simply put this into an old typewriter and wrote this out.
“Is that it?” Gus says impatiently.
I give a small nod and read.
“Receipt and contract. One two-part curse with trigger words.” I scoff. “This is written like it was purchased at a store.”
“Keep going,” Rhett says firmly, staring at the binder, unable to look at me.
“This contract is a binding agreement between Agnes Magdola Merrimack and Naomi Westwitch. This contract will include one two-part lifetime curse with trigger words. The subjects of said curse shall be all current and future male parties of the Stanton, Heathrow, and Cranstonfamilies, hereafter referred to asthe Bound Men—” I stop and scan the rest of the page.
“Keep going,” Rhett says, this time even more firmly. Almost angrily, though I know it isn’t at me.
“Here, just read it,” I say, offering the papers to him.
I scan the page, and it’s a lot for me to read out loud. It’s best they look it over themselves. It’s important and sort of private. They don’t need me reading it out loud.
