FWD: Inspired by the song "Barcarola (You must Be a Christmas Tree)" By Sufjan Stevens. A short but sweet reaction to the previous chapter. +++++++++++++++++++

Chapter 9: Barcarola (You must Be a Christmas Tree)

"I don't have to explain myself." she said sipping her coffee and avoiding his gaze.

They had been seated at the table for an hour under the guise of eating breakfast. He shook his head and took a sip from his mug and set it down gently. He was noticeably irritated with her but he chose not to speak. Old patterns of communicating too much, using too many heated words led to separation, or so he feared. It had happened when they were looking for Beth in Atlanta and he feared if he alienated her in any way she'd run off.

He cleared his throat and scooped up the last spoonful of powdered eggs and beans and stood from the table. She furrowed her brow and watched him retreat down the hallway and up the stairs. Leaving the dishes to be cleaned later she walked into the living room and peeked out one of the front windows. The herd had increased ten fold but the shelter belt had done a remarkable job of forcing the walkers around the property, rather than through it.

She sighed and closed the blanket back over the window and grabbed another blanket and huddled on the couch with it. She grabbed a book from one of the book shelves and plopped down.

Fifteen minutes later she looked around the room and thought fondly of the small tree at the other cottage. Since they had already celebrated Christmas she decided she'd surprise him with a New Year's Eve celebration. The attic of the home was sure to have some kind of lights or decorations and maybe if the herd cleared out in a few days she could sneak out and check at one of the other houses nearby. Yes, maybe that would be a good apology for the strife she'd caused him this morning.

She saw it written on his face, the concern, the anger, the irritation, the sadness and something else he hadn't yet confessed to her. All of it was coiled tightly in his chest waiting to burst into being, but only when he was ready.

She smirked and set the copy of Little Women down on the coffee table and burrowed down deep into the blanket while closing her eyes. The heat radiating from the floor eased her into the peaceful sleep that had alluded her in the very early hours of the morning.