Bloom

The Trees are Filled with Memories

The lake did not help.

I'm no closer to figuring out H's diary than when I found it. If anything, I feel farther away. I don't understand and it's so frustrating. None of the letters match the photos and none of it makes sense. Why would Grammy be so important in their relationship? And why won't she tell me anything?

I'm desperate and annoyed, but mostly desperate.

"Reigny?" I poke my head into her room and smile sweetly at her.

"What do you want?" She asks, but I can hear the fond tone in her voice.

"I need help," I sigh. I walk into her room with the diary and photo albums, I feel like their glued to me lately. "I don't get it," I plop down on her bed and wait for her to join me.

"What don't you get?" She asks.

"Nothing adds up," I tell her. "The photos don't match the diary entries,"

"How not?"

"Well look at this one," I flip to the one of H, L, and D at the chippie and turn to the bookmarked page in the diary that fits with the photo. "The entry talks about L and H and a memory of being at the shop,"

"Maybe this is L," Reign points to who I think is G.

"No, I think that's G from the beach photo. Not all of these have initials on the back though," I complain. "But the diary entries are about being in love, this can't be L,"

"Why not?" Reign asks.

I roll my eyes, sometimes she can be so thick. "For one, it's the 1950s, for two, I just feel like L was the girl from the beach photo, they looked so happy and cute together,"

"Who do you think this is then?" She asks unconvinced.

"I had a thought, but don't laugh at me," I say. She nods. "I think it could be our grandfather,"

"Yeah and I'm queen, don't be daft," Reign rolls her eyes. "We don't know what he looks like,"

"I know that" I start defensively. "But look, if this is Grammy, she has her arms around him, and they look happy. Mum said they met in the early '50s, this photo could be of them,"

"Why don't you ask Grammy then?" Reign asks.

"Because I'm not supposed to be snooping in this stuff," I say quietly. "I don't want her to get mad,"

"Or do you just want to be the one to figure it out without being told?" Reign asks. It's a rude question asked in a nasty way.

"Whatever, if you want to be a dick then I won't tell you anything anymore," I say haughtily as I grab H's things and stomp out of her room. "I wish you treated me more like your twin rather than someone that annoys you all the time," I grumble before slamming her door and locking myself in my room.

I'm not upset because she was being rude, which she was, I'm upset because she was right. I could ask Grammy and she'd tell me if it's my grandfather, she wouldn't be mad. But selfishly, I want to be the one to figure it out and do so on my own. Maybe that's why I'm so protective over it. I don't want to take her advice or thoughts over H's things, I want her to listen and care and be a part of it with me. She doesn't take it seriously and it's frustrating trying to talk to her.

I put the albums and diary under my pillows and curl up under my blankets. I turn on Beauty and the Beast on my laptop and try to ignore the irritation rising in my chest at my sister. I shouldn't be mad at her for this, and I shouldn't let it get to me as deeply as it is.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I wake up to Reign gently shaking my shoulder and it's getting dark outside, Beauty and the Beast has been over for a while by the looks of my screen. "Darcy,"