It was the messenger again. Hannah could hear hooves on the path – right on time, as always every month.

She stopped in the middle of knifing meat, washing her hands and heading for the door. It was a warm spring afternoon, pleasant and good for Chell's crops. Hannah waited on the step, breathing deeply as she watched the messenger from Dalen ride up. Dark-haired, handsome, he reminded her a little of Eli Doone, not a nice memory, considering he had married four years ago, the same year her mother disappeared. Last she'd heard, he and his wife were trying for a child. And here she was, almost twenty and still a maiden.

The messenger dismounted, coming through the open gate and handing out the letter. They had played this routine so many times, they didn't even bother with niceties anymore.

As he returned to his horse, there was a whole number of girls ogling him from windows. Typical. None of them ever dared approach him though – except for Melanie. She appeared from her house further down the path, eyeing him openly. The messenger saw her and smiled, going over for his usual flirting. Seeing them, the other village girls slowly retreated, as did Hannah.

She started towards her Da's room as she began undoing the envelope. Not long after her mother had left, he'd fallen ill, and now kept mostly to bed. Her Ma's monthly writings were the only thing that seemed to keep him going, while the little money she sent helped keep the house running. She opened the door, and at the sight of the envelope, her father stirred, pushing himself up.

Hannah did a tight smile, going over to sit on the stool next to him while she read.

It wasn't long. It never was. It was always a few lines of the same thing – Work is hard, but I am well. Hope I can see you all soon. Hannah had lost belief in that happening, but it seemed like her father still believed it, still believed he would one day see her again. Content, he lay down to rest, and she quietly led herself out.

There was only one place for Donna Iver's letters to be kept, and that was in the rusted tin on the kitchen shelf. It was stacked there for anyone who wanted to read it – Rio claimed he didn't care about 'her' anymore, but every month, Hannah would find the letters disturbed.

She glanced out the window, wondering where he was. Probably loafing with Fadden. What a shame. She'd been so anxious for him to grow up so he could be of help to her, or at least be a good listening ear when she needed it. But it hadn't turned out that way. Nothing had turned out as she'd hoped.

He came home late that night not by himself, but in the tow of Kurt Avery, Fadden's older brother. Something had clearly happened; Rio's face was puffy, swollen from what could only have been blows.

"I found him by the river," Kurt said, shoving her brother inside. "Fighting with John Trent."

Hannah's blood iced. John Trent? The most aggressive man in Chell, quick to temper and always eager to settle things with his fists. "My goodness, Rio," she went, turning to him. "Did you really?"

But her little brother kept his mouth shut.

"What happened?" she tried again.

"He won't say," Kurt answered instead. "And neither would my brother."

"Fadden was there?"

"They were together. Good thing he had the sense to come and call for me."

"Then you saw Trent?" she asked slowly.

"Not really. He ran off once he saw me. Or limped. Apparently, Rio managed to hurt him quite a bit."

"This isn't the time to be impressed." She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see her brother walking away. "There's a letter," she called, only to be answered by the slam of his door.

She turned forward, looking up at Kurt. He looked a lot like his father, light-haired and muscular, but with a sweeter smile and gray eyes from his mother.

"Thank you," she said to him. "For helping him. I'm glad you were there to break things up."

"Think nothing of it. I know what it's like, being the eldest. Always have to watch out for them."

"Or else we get blamed for their trouble."

"It's a sad fact," he said, smiling wanly.

She paused for a moment, feeling sorry to have him go. It had been a while since she'd had a chance to talk to Kurt. "Would you like to come in for a bit, Kurt? Have something to drink before you go?"

He thought it over. "Cider?"

"Sure, we have some."

"I suppose one cup wouldn't hurt," he said, and she stepped back to let him in.

A minute later, they sat in the kitchen, him downing his drink while she cleared away the day's dishes.

"I'm worried about those two," Kurt remarked. "All they've accomplished lately is finding trouble. My father's given up trying to reason with my brother."

"But to pick a fight with John Trent … "

"Yes. I'll be amazed if he doesn't break both their necks by tomorrow morning."

She turned, looking at him from across the kitchen. Just meeting his eyes made her heart shiver. Kurt was twenty in age, a little older than her, and had turned out handsome. She had to remind herself that he was engaged, and even if he wasn't, he'd never be interested in a girl like her. She faced forward, focusing on putting away plates. "I suppose you don't have any clue what the fight was about?"

"No. Something stupid, probably. You know Trent – he's got a mean heart and a loose mouth."

"Such a lucky combination."

"Yet, I find it hard to believe those two didn't play some part in it too. Oh well." He lifted his cup. "Hannah. Won't you drink with me?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. I'll be turning in soon."

"Come now. Just a little."

"No, I – "

"I insist," he interrupted, standing up and taking her arm. He sat her down, sliding a glass towards her. "It'll probably help you sleep."

"Well … thank you."

"Why thank me? It's your own cider." He laughed at his own joke, and she did a weak one of her own.

"So," he said, watching as she sipped. Suddenly, his tone had turned serious. "Is everything alright with your family?"

She nodded, not volunteering details.

"And your father?"

"No better. No worse."

"Maybe you should find another healer to look at him."

"I don't think it will make a difference."

"You never know."

"It costs money."

He couldn't argue with that. "Well. I heard you say you received another letter."

"I did," she confirmed, sighing.

"Did she say anything?"

"Nothing of use."

"Haven't you ever thought of going to Dalen to find her, Hannah?"

"Of course I have."

"But?"

"But it's a huge town. She could be anywhere."

"Use her name, you might find her."

"She's a lowly servant. I doubt anyone would know."

He leaned back in his chair, his face grim. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I wish I could help."

"You? You've done enough."

"No, I don't feel I have. And my father feels the same way."

"It's alright," she said, becoming a little uncomfortable. "Your parents have always been good to me."

He shifted sideways, facing her. "What happened to you was terrible. It's amazing how you've kept things together."

"Not very well. Da is sick, and my brother – "

"You're doing the best you can. You mustn't be so hard on yourself." He gripped her shoulder, and she had to press against that small hint of hope.

Kurt yawned, setting down his glass. "I should go. It's late, and Mother will be wondering about me."

"Right," she said quietly.

He got up, and she followed at a careful distance until the door. They exchanged warm farewells, then she watched as he sauntered down the path. She was a lucky girl, the one they had chosen for him.