“Why didn’t you forgive her? I know what they accused you of was terrible. But from what I’ve heard, Mary tried to make things right.”

“She did. But I never saw it that way.” Constance gently moved toward a large oak tree. She tried to place her hand on it, but it sunk right through. If I had to guess, she was getting weaker. She wouldn’t be slamming any more closet doors. She had stayed too long on the mortal plane. “I heard your uncle tell you that weird fairy tale. But you should know, I never resented my role in our family. I loved taking care of my siblings. That’s why I was so hurt when they turned on me. And that’s why I couldn’t forgive them. For a while, I truly believed all those invitations and letters from Mary were just her way of worming herself back into my life so I’d give her the money. I knew how scared she was of that wretched husband of hers. I figured he put her up to it. But when Carl left, and she fell in love with her new husband,” Constance stopped herself short and grimaced, “I believed she was trying to rub her happiness in my face. Her loving husband. Her perfect little family. I couldn’t see anything but spite. It just got worse over the years.”

She looked off in the distance, her body shining in the moonlight. “After a while I knew she wasn’t trying to make me feel bad. It wasn’t the money she wanted. No, she wanted my forgiveness. She couldn’t live with what she had done. But I was so bitter by that point, the thought gave me pleasure. You see, I could keep the house from Rip. I could keep the farm from John. And I could keep my forgiveness from Mary. It was perfect.” She looked back at me. “And it made me a monster.”

“But you tried to make things right with John.”

A heartbreaking smile came to her face. “Johnny. He was such a sweet boy. He would have been a wonderful veterinarian. I did try to make things right with him. I knew when the three of them came to the house that day his heart wasn’t in it. But later on, when he didn’t answer my letter, I didn’t know what to think.”

“You know now he never got it, right?”

“Yes, I do.” She squinted. “All things considered, I think Rip needs to go to jail. For a good long time. You won’t be able to prove he planted that mallet, but tell that wife of his that the evidence she’s looking for is in a shoebox up in the rafters of their garage. Her instincts were right. He is embezzling money from her father’s business. She just needs to prove it, so she can get her divorce. And before you say it, I know I should have given my siblings our father’s letter. Everything might have been different. Even Rip might have been different. That son of a—”