Frankie's absence from the main house had been noted. More than she expected. Johnny made it very clear, after Frankie had shown him her apartment, that Hannah missed Frankie. A lot.

With their newfound peace, Frankie felt comfortable returning to family dinners. It was now secret that Frankie had been shying away from the Stephens on purpose, and shying away from Johnny, too. Johnny didn't have to say it but Frankie could tell he had seen right through her evasive act.

Frankie didn't know how much she had been missing Hannah and family dinners until she walked through the kitchen door that evening and was immediately enveloped in a warm embrace of home, love, and delicious food. Frankie took her time eating that evening, relishing her reclaimed place at the dinner table.

Dinners that week grew longer and longer each day. Dan, Hannah, Johnny, and Frankie found more reasons each night to stay around each other longer, more stories to tell, more jokes to be shared. Every evening, they moved to the family room when dinner was done and shared cups of coffee and tea and whatever sweet concoction Hannah had been working on that day to sell at the store. It was around the fire that they shared anecdotes from their days, stories from times past, anything that kept the conversation flowing.

Frankie enjoyed watching Johnny interact with his parents more than she expected. He fit right into the hole he had left behind and Hannah and Dan were the happiest Frankie had ever seen them with him around. Frankie watched Hannah's eyes glow with tears of joy as she watched her son and her husband connect. She noticed Dan's low hum and nods as he enjoyed the conversation happening around him, speaking when he had something worthwhile to say.

Frankie enjoyed the scene but could feel the unspoken topic hovering in the corner. It was most pronounced in Dan's attempts to ask Johnny about his work. Dan knew nothing about music or how someone did it for a living and so his questions were always awkward and clumsy. He gave up the endeavor two days in and instead enjoyed answering all the questions Johnny had about the farm.

Never, not once, did anyone dare mention when their little bubble was due to pop. Johnny had to return to his life sometime but none of them wanted to ask when.

Frankie felt rested by the following Sunday afternoon. A week of peaceful and cozy evenings had done her good. So had the dispelled animosity between her and Johnny. She could sit down in her lounge chair with Johnny's guitar and play the few songs she knew with a smile.

Her quiet afternoon was interrupted when someone came knocking at her door. Placing the guitar carefully back in its stand, Frankie opened the door to find Johnny in real jeans, work boots, a down jacket, and a beanie. His dark hair stuck out at the ends. There was an ax thrown over his shoulder, and he stood as if he looked like this all the time.

Frankie's tentative "Hey" while she absorbed Johnny's new look wasn't given much attention as Johnny dove headfirst into debriefing Frankie on their assignment for the day.

"Mom wants to decorate the tree tonight. She's working with Dad to bring down the boxes from the attic and asked if we could go cut a tree down for her. Dad said you'd know where to find the good ones."

There wasn't a single trace of his other life on him and Frankie found before her Johnny's original form. He was relaxed, excited. He looked younger than he had when Frankie had first been introduced to him. Before her stood the Johnny he had been before he had moved away.

"Yeah. Okay," Frankie said, "Let's go."

Johnny's smile grew and Frankie wasted no time pulling on her own boots, jacket, and beanie. She led them out on foot, down the driveway, and across the street to the narrow lane dug into fields on uninterrupted snow.

The only sound following them was the sound of their boots crunching against packed snow underfoot. A forest of trees lined the fields and the road sent them in their direction. Neither of them spoke as they walked, instead, they took in the beauty around them. The sky was gray overhead, making the dark green of the tall evergreens vibrant in contrast. Their surroundings grew dark as they entered the forest and followed the lane further into the trees.

"Where are we headed?" Johnny asked, looking up through the trees to try and find a crack of sky among their thick branches.

"Lost River pond," Frankie replied.

And with one last turn around a bend, they came upon their destination.

The forest of trees gave way to a large clearing. A frozen pond lay quietly in the heart of it, its ice matching the cold gray of the sky. There were benches and fire pits positioned around the right edge of the pond, as this was where people fished in the summer and skated in the winter.

As the road forked, Frankie headed to the right, to the small gathering of trees perfect for Christmas. She stopped when she realized Johnny was still at the fork. Retracing her steps, she came to a stop next to him and stood beside him as he stared at the farm that took up the left side of the pond.

"It's empty," Frankie said, after a long pause.

As if this piece of information had given him permission, Johnny approached the house.

It was a standard farmhouse, with yellow walls and red trim, a wrap-around porch with wooden railings, a peaked roof on top. Frankie followed as Johnny approached the front door. She, too, held her hands up to the glass to see inside.

Inside was a room long forgotten, an old braid rug on the floor and a lone rocking chair next to the cold fireplace.

"The Romeros used to live here," Johnny said, stepping back from the window to inspect more of the outside.

Frankie knew the Romeros had lived her. She had helped them pack up before they left.

"Victor taught me guitar in that living room. Every Thursday afternoon."

Frankie watched Johnny as he stared into the heart of the abandoned house. He shook his head to return to the present.

"He saw me staring at this guitar in the music store window downtown. He had grown up playing, had even gone professional for a little while. He told my dad he'd teach me guitar if I spent one afternoon a week helping him out on the farm. He's one of the reasons I started doing music in the first place."

Frankie's chest hurt with the look of sadness on Johnny's face, the look of pure loss. He shook his head again and tried smiling. It didn't make it very far up his face so he gave up.

"My dad was a musician, too," Frankie said. It was the only thing she could think of to help relieve some of his pain, to offer up some of her own.

"Yeah?"

Johnny looked up from his boots and managed to meet her eye.

"Yeah. He wanted..."

Frankie stopped, took a deep breath, and then tried again.

"He wanted to turn our place into some kind of artist residency. He was obsessed with this dream of having musicians come and play in our barn. But he didn't understand the amount of work, the amount of money, it would take to make it the kind of place people would want to stay at."

"What happened?" Johnny asked

Frankie looked at the house, at the abandoned rooms inside, as if they could make her answer easier to say.

"The same thing that happened here," Frankie finally said. "We fell into debt. My dad sold the farm. He bought an RV with the little money he had left and packed up his and my mother's things. They drove off and never looked back, leaving my sister and me to fend for ourselves."

Johnny gave her the gift of a silent moment, letting her story pass away with the cool wind that whipped through the porch.

"What happened here?" Johnny asked.

"The Romeros couldn't keep up and after a particularly bad harvest, they decided to give it up. Your dad was their only offer so they had to say yes."

"Dad? He owns this place?"

A light Frankie wasn't sure how to categorize lit up in Johnny's eyes. His expression turned from sadness to curiosity and he inspected the house again with a different gaze.

"Come on," Frankie said, wanting to leave the house, and her past, behind, "Let's go find a tree."

It took Johnny a second but he followed her off the porch and back towards the road. He stopped before they could get there, looking back over his shoulder to inspect the barn. Something caught his attention and he said, "Hold on" while retracing his steps. He stopped in front of the tall red building, looking up to a window set over the doors.

"I don't think it's locked," Johnny said, inspecting the large doors.

"I don't see a chain or padlock," Frankie agreed.

At her word, Johnny grabbed hold of one of the large black handles and started to pull the doors open. He was pulling against half a season's worth of snow so Frankie reached out to help.

With several grunts and the sound of wood scraping against packed snow, they finally got the door open. Johnny stepped into the barn, floating dust particles flying in the shafts of cold sunlight around him as the barn's peace was disturbed for the first time in a year.

He let out a low whistle and the sound reverberated across the long room, bouncing from one wall to the next then coming right back at him.

"Wow."

His exclamation, the sound of an awed whisper, did the same as his whistle.

Looking around, Frankie spotted the steps that led to the loft overhead. Johnny moved further into the room and inspected the stalls and the flooring, taking everything he could see in the dim light.

Frankie let him be, standing by the entrance, waiting. Once he was finished looking around, he returned to the entrance with that same curious light in his eye, his face glowing with excitement.

"Come on," he said, "let's go find our tree."

And that was that on that. Frankie helped him close up the barn again and then led him to the cache of trees across the pond, ready to be cut down for Christmas.

They were met with cries of joy and cheer when they returned to the house with their prize. Hannah had food and cider and dessert all ready for them as they warmed up by the fire. Dan helped place the tree in its stand in the corner of the room and the four of them spent the evening bringing the holiday spirit to life.

A/N:

If you're curious what the soundtrack song that plays to this chapter is, it's Be Here Now by Ed Sheeran off his newest album.

Totes vibe, as the kids say.

They say that, right?

Okay. End of day two. How are we feeling?

Thoughts?

Feelings?

Vibes?

Say what you need to say. This is a safe space.