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the first place? He really didn’t throw his life away simply because he turned fifty, did he?”
    Margie appeared to give my question thoughtful consideration. “I guess I’m not positive. But it’s not unusual for people to get frustrated when they reach a certain age—a milestone age—and see they haven’t accomplished everythin’ they set out to do.” She rested her forearms on the table. “Some blame their families and turn mean. Others, like Ole, run from themselves and their so-called failures with the help of booze or a tramp or both.” She stood up ramrod straight again. “Dr. Phil actually had a show about that very thing not too long ago.”
    I returned the photograph to her. “What did Ole ever fail to accomplish?”
    “I’m … not … quite sure.” She spaced her words out, as if using the time between them to come up with an explanation—even after all these years—for what had happened to her brother. “He made a decent livin’ at farmin’ but didn’t seem all that fulfilled by it. He spent lots of time tinkerin’, though nothin’ big ever came of it.” Margie stared past me. “I guess he didn’t realize ’til it was too late that he was pretty successful anyways.”
    “How so?”
    “Well, he had a devoted wife. He also had family and friends who loved him.” She tucked the picture back into the box.
    “Margie?” I momentarily wavered. “Do you ever regret not marrying?”
    She closed the lid. “I’m not the most religious person in the world, but I believe God has a plan for each of us, and for some reason, his plan for me didn’t include that.” She rested for a beat. “His plan for Ole and Lena clearly did, though. That’s why I don’t feel bad about what happened to Samantha. She got what she deserved for interferin’ with God’s intentions.”
    That seemed kind of harsh, but I let it go. And after a moment, Margie switched topics.
    “Ya know,” she said, “I was with Lena the night before she died.” Her voice had changed. It was lower and a bit mournful. “She’d been feelin’ bad for nearly a month but thought it was nothin’ more than a flu bug that wouldn’t go away. I wasn’t so sure.
    “Ya see, Lena was always outgoin’, but she’d turned inward, like folks do when they’re gravely ill. She was lettin’ life pass her by, not noticin’ much and carin’ about even less.” Margie folded her arms across her chest, tucking them under her breasts. “She got so she’d hardly talk, but for some reason, that night she insisted on visitin’, so that’s what we did.
    “After a while, we got ’round to the subject of Ole, of course, and we must have gabbed about him for darn near an hour.” She hugged herself tightly. “Lena told me he’d stopped by to urge her to see the doctor. He said he was gonna make an appointment for himself too. He wanted to find out why he’d done what he did. He said the affair was like a dream to him, nothin’ but a bad dream.” Margie’s eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away.
    “He also asked her to go out to dinner with him sometime. Not surprisingly, that got me goin’ about them gettin’ back together, but Lena warned me to ‘slow down.’” Margie sniffled. “I didn’t. I guess I couldn’t. I told her that when two people are together for a long time, they’re bound to hurt each other, so they better learn to forgive. That’s when she gave me one of those ‘don’t push it’ looks. She said she wasn’t even sure why Ole wanted her back. Did he suddenly realize he still loved her? If so, how did that happen? Accordin’ to her, nothin’ had changed since he left. Or was life with Samantha just too darn lonely? Is that why he finally walked out on her? Ya see, when Ole and Samantha were together, no one in town wanted much to do with either of ’em, considerin’ what they’d done to his family there.
    “Yah, I probably should of said more.” She sounded so melancholy. “But I