Lindsey rolled her eyes. “She wouldn’t have even known the difference. You’re being dramatic.”
I felt my blood boil. Before I could say anything more, Nathan and Ryan stepped in, physically stopping me from lunging at her. Tears stung my eyes as I rushed outside, desperate to recover what I could from the backyard. But it was too late. My mother’s ashes were gone.
That night, as I stewed in my anger, karma decided to intervene. Around midnight, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silence. Nathan and I rushed upstairs to find Lindsey standing on the bed, hysterical.
The carpet, her clothes—and even some of mine—were soaked in a foul-smelling sludge. The en-suite bathroom had flooded, and murky water was creeping everywhere. The smell was unbearable.
“Do something!” Lindsey shrieked, clutching her hair in panic.
Nathan tried to hide a smirk. “Looks like the toilet backed up,” he said, barely suppressing his amusement.
I couldn’t resist adding, “Funny how this only happened to your room. Maybe it’s Mom getting her revenge.”
Lindsey shot me a venomous glare, but for the first time that week, I felt a sense of vindication.
The plumber couldn’t come until after Christmas, so we had to endure the stench for the rest of the holiday. Lindsey spent the day sulking, avoiding everyone at the table. When she tried to complain about her ordeal, our family didn’t have much sympathy.
“You threw away their mother’s ashes?” my aunt gasped. “What kind of person does that?”
By the end of the day, Lindsey was thoroughly humiliated, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of justice. Ryan apologized profusely, admitting he had no idea what his wife had done. Despite my lingering anger, I decided not to kick them out—mostly for Ryan’s sake.
As Nathan and I cleaned up that evening, he gave me a knowing smile. “You think Mom was with us today, even after what Lindsey did?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “If she was, I hope she saw everything. Lindsey got exactly what she deserved.”
And for the first time that Christmas, I felt at peace, knowing my mom’s spirit—chaotic humor and all—had been with us in her own way.