That night, as I seethed with anger, karma decided to make an appearance. Around midnight, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence. Nathan and I rushed upstairs to find Lindsey standing on the bed, shrieking in horror.
The carpet, her clothes – and some of mine – were drenched in a putrid-smelling sludge. The en-suite bathroom had flooded, with murky water seeping into every corner. The stench was unbearable.
“Do something!” Lindsey wailed, clutching her hair in terror.
Nathan struggled to keep a straight face. “Looks like the toilet is backed up,” he said, barely hiding his amusement.
I couldn’t resist adding, “Funny how this only happened in your room. Maybe Mom is getting her revenge.”
Lindsey glared at me, but I didn’t care. For the first time all week, I felt justified.
The plumber couldn’t come until after Christmas, leaving us to endure the lingering smell during the holiday. Lindsey spent the day sulking, avoiding everyone at the table. When she tried to complain to the family about her ordeal, they turned against her.
“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 embarrassed, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of justice. Ryan apologized profusely, admitting he had no idea what she 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. “Do 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 what she deserved.”
And for the first time that Christmas, I felt at peace, knowing that my mom’s spirit – mischievous humor and all – had been with us in her own way.