The harsh reality of grief is that once the funeral is over, people move on with their lives, leaving you all alone to walk this lonely and painful journey of grief. Little does anyone care that for griever, everyday is a new battle to start being strong again. - Narin Grewal
When I arrived home after the funeral, I found myself doing something I never thought I would.
Looking through last year's year book.
As I laid on my bed, flipping through the pages, I kept coming across Miranda's face.
For the first time I actually took the time to look at her face. In all her pictures, she was smiling. A smile that never quite reached her eyes. Unless she was with Jackson.
A quiet rapping on the window caught my attention.
"Can you open the window please?" It was Jonathan, holding his jacket over his head, crouched down as he waited for me to open the window. "I'm getting drenched out here."
I tossed the yearbook on my bed before hurrying over to the window, unsealing the latch and pushing it open.
"Hurry in. Before it soaks my floor."
He jumped downed carefully, pulling his jacket from his atop his head.
"Sorry about the mess," he gestured to the water he'd tracked in from his shoes as well as his jacket.
"It's fine. I have to clean anyway." I told him, making my way back to my bed. "Just hang it in the bathroom."
He did as I said, returning seconds later, no longer holding the jacket.
"So, what were you looking at? Did you find your parents yearbook?"
I slapped myself on the forehead. "I totally forgot."
He sat next to me, grabbing the discarded yearbook which laid open on a picture of Jackson and Miranda.
"Is this about that girl who was talking to you at the graveyard?" I nodded. "Who was she?"
"Her name is Amy. She's Miranda's cousin."
"What caused her to come over to you?"
"She was talking to me about Miranda. Apparently Miranda mentioned me to her quite a bit over the years."
"What? How much you two didn't get along?"
"That's what I thought too. But, no. She told me that Miranda never actually hated me."
"Well, she sure acted like she did."
"Amy said it was Kirsty. She convinced Miranda to harass me. Amy told me that Miranda told her she actually envied me."
"Envied you?"
"I know. My response exactly. She told me how Miranda would talk about how much she admired my ability to not care what others thought or said about me. Now remember when she used to wear glasses back in elementary and middle school?" He nodded. "Well, the summer before grade nine, she decided to reinvent herself. She wanted to become what she thought would make everyone like her. But, look." I grabbed the book from him, flipping through the pages, pausing occasionally to point out pictures. "Notice how in every picture with her so called 'friends' she is never smiling? Amy said it was because she was angry at herself for allowing them to change who she was. Jackson was the only one who saw past it all. He saw the real her."
We were now back at the picture we'd begun with.
It was a picture of Jackson in his football uniform, holding Miranda, in her cheerleading uniform, both smiling at one another. Real smiles.
It was taken after the finals of last years football season where we'd won.
Jackson, the game MVP, ran over to the sideline to greet his girlfriend, scooping her up bridal style before celebrating with a kiss, right before this photo was taken.
My mom had told me I needed to go out more, not only to the bakery, so in an attempt to appease her Jon brought me to the football game.
"They really did love each other, huh?"
"Yeah. Now I'm afraid I inadvertently made him a suspect in her murder."
"How do you suspect you did that?"
"Well, remember when I was called in for questioning and I told the Sheriff they had broken up?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, what if they think he did something to her because of what I told them?"
"Harley," Jon said, rubbing my shoulder. "If you hadn't told them, they would have found out eventually. Besides, whenever someone goes missing, who do the police look at first?"
"The spouse or loved one."
"As well as immediate family." He concurred. "You didn't point them in a direction they weren't already looking at. There's no reason for you to feel bad."
"I know. The Sheriff just seemed so surprised to find out they were broken up. Shouldn't he have interviewed Jackson long before he interviewed me?"
Jon nodded. "I'm sure he was one of the first people they talked to."
"So why was he surprised they weren't together? Wouldn't Jackson have told him that?"
"I don't know. I agree, it is a little weird that the Sheriff didn't seem to know about their relationship status. But, I'm sure if Jackson neglected to tell them he had a good reason."
"I sure hope so."
"Don't think too much on it right now. I'm sure there's a plausible explanation. Right now let's focus on this apparent secret our parents may or may not be hiding. After all, that's what we planned for, right?"
"Right. Any luck with finding your parents yearbook?"
He shook his head. "No. My father's office was locked and I was caught by Esmerlda." My eyes bulged. "Don't worry. She won't say anything to my parents. She was actually warning me. Apparently my dad had security cameras installed inside his home office not too long ago."
"Why? Has anyone tried to break in?"
"No. Nobody has tried to break in. I have no idea why he installed them. He must have done it while I was at school or with you at the bakery."
"That is odd." I crossed my legs and my propped my hand against my chin. "What could he be hiding?"
"I don't know. Whatever it may be he clearly doesn't want me snooping around looking for it. Or if I do, he may want to know how close I'm getting."
"Lucky for us, my mom isn't as secretive. I think she has her yearbooks in the closet in her bedroom on the top shelf. I swear I saw what looks like a yearbook sticking out of a box of my dad's things."
"Perfect."
We both hopped up and exited my room, heading down the hall to my parents room.
"Mom never locks her door so that shouldn't be a problem."
Sure enough the door was unlocked. As it was still quite light outside, even with the grey skies, I left the light switch off.
"It's over here." I told him, leading him to the door closest to the bedroom door. Opening the door, we went inside and this time I had to flip on the light switch because I couldn't see as well as before.
As I scanned the closet, my eyes quickly landed on an old shoebox I knew contained memories of my dad. Right next to it was a small moving box.
"And Bingo was his name-oh!" I stepped onto my tippy toes and gently pulled the box down. "Here it is."
We sat on the floor and I took off the lid. On top sat a yearbook from our parents time at Willow Creek Institute.
There was a tiny amount of dust on it, which I blew off, sending us both into a coughing fit.
"Sorry," I said, once the coughing had finally settled down. I flipped it open to the first page. "Faculty, no. Students, students, students." I kept flipping through the sea of photos when one caught my eye. "Wait! That's her. That's the girl from my dream."
I pointed to a picture of a black-haired green eyed girl. The same green eyes from my dream. She was standing on the steps of our high school next to a young - younger Mr. Haggerty and both had large grins on their faces.
"Aubrey Jacobson."
"You're absolutely sure she is who you saw?"
"I'm a million percent sure that is who I saw. I remember her eyes because they felt like they were piercing my soul."
"Okay. Well that's a good start. At least now we know who she is. All that's left is figuring out her connection to Mr. Haggerty."
I pointed to picture of them smiling. "Maybe they dated. They look pretty close here."
"If that's the case, I wonder what happened to make her hate him."
"Yeah."
We continued flipping through the book, finding more pictures of the pair.
"It's starting to look more like they were dating. That or they were best friends. Like us."
"Yeah. Like us." He said.
"Let's look for any photos of our parents. They were all acting pretty weird at the funeral."
"I noticed that. I'm really sorry about what my mom said. She was way out of line."
I shrugged, continuing to flip through the book. "It's okay. I already know how she is."
"It's still no excuse for her mentioning your dad."
"Let's just forget about it. My mom already set her straight." I told him. "Which brings me to my next point. My mom mentioned a 'they' which seemed to really rattle both of your parents."
"You think this might be the secret you think they're hiding?"
"I'm not sure. It could be. I also thought back to when your parents were arguing a while ago."
He pointed. "Right. Then we asked your mom if they ever lived anywhere other than Willow Creek. She was very quick to say no."
I nodded. "You're right. She didn't seem to want to answer anything after you told her you heard. Maybe your mom dated someone other than your dad at some point."
"They've always said they only dated each other. High school sweethearts. But I never know what to believe from them."
"Perhaps we'll find some answers somewhere in this book. If they won't tell us then we'll have to find out for ourselves."
Slowly and methodically we searched the extra curricular pages, looking for anything or anyone to connect to our parents.
However, the more pages I flipped, the lower the temperature in the room dropped.
I involuntarily shivered. "Oh God. It's freezing in here."
When I got up to check the thermostat, it read -10º C.
"What the-?"
"What is it?" Jon asked, walking over, he too shaking from the unexplained temperature drop.
"My mom never leaves the thermostat this low. No matter how hot it is outside."
For a couple of weeks following the Spring Equinox, we occasionally have small bouts of winter-like weather, as if winter doesn't know it's over yet.
"That is weird. Do you think it could be a ghost?"
"Of who? Mary? She wants us to keep researching. Why would she want to impede our progress?"
He shrugged. "The paranormal. One of the most baffling mysteries mankind will ever know."
"You're right. It's probably nothing anyway."
We headed back to my mom's closet after adjusting the temperature.
"Harley?" Jon's voice caught my attention as I entered behind him.
"What is it?"
"It's gone."
"What? What's gone?"
"The yearbook."
Surely enough when I popped out from behind him, the yearbook was no longer on the floor where we left it.
"That's it," I told him. "Someone or something did not want us to find something in that yearbook.
But who?