In the city, the only things that would get stuffed through your letterbox were bills, and bank statements, and fliers advertising the local subpar takeaway. But here, in the valley, people loved to write you letters. Actual handwritten letters that served as evidence of the writer's personality - the way they held their pen and how they packaged the note.

Of course, I didn't know many of my neighbours, and so far I could count the amount of mail I'd received on just the two of my dirt-streaked hands. But I was starting to know who the sender was before I had even reached the second sentence of the page. I always thought that Lewis had gotten a little wobbly with his declining age, but the neatness and formality of his writing would put any other politician to shame. Marnie's script was a little messy, but very curly and beautiful to look at, and the pages would radiate her warmth and joy. And Emily had written me a letter only one or two days after I had met her. The colourful words were scribbled in thick red ink, with a thin ribbon tied loosely around the manilla envelope in a bow - blue, naturally.

I was at Emily's humble abode now, clutching a creased carrier bag full of various ingredients from Pierre's corner shop. They cost me an arm and a leg. When I entered there, I didn't expect to be robbed - and not by any violent, weapon-bearing criminal - but by the cunning man behind the till.

"You will never guess what Alex has just told me, Em. Oh my god. I'm shocked to the core." Emily's sister spoke aloud, placing one of her pristinely-manicured hands over her mouth in shock as her phone hung limply from the other. She had been standing there for the past five minutes, leaning casually against one of the kitchen cabinets, her face lit up by the soft blue glow of her mobile screen.

"What?"
"So he says he was just chilling outside by the river, and he saw someone in the distance, walking across that old bridge near the library. Which was super weird, because, like, he normally doesn't see anyone around there at this time of day. That's why he goes down there, because after his workout he likes to go somewhere quiet and really think about life and stuff, you know?"

Emily rolled her eyes and laughed, "Can you get to the point?"
"God, I'm getting there, have a little patience." She responded with a huff, folding her arms across the front of her pink cotton blouse. "Well it was Leah."

"Who's Leah?" I chimed in, shuffling to stand closer to the two girls.
"She's just this girl who spends practically all of her time inside her cottage, or digging through the dirt in the forest like a little squirrel. Alex says she literally never hangs out near his house, so it was totally crazy to see her. He says she was obviously coming back from Clint's house."
"Clint's house? There's no way, Haley. Why would she be?" Emily laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Looks like Clint isn't so lonely after all, huh. The little devil."
"You're truly delusional now." Emily moved closer to her sister and placed a hand against her forehead. "Clint and Leah. Are you ill? Are you coming down with something?"
"He sent me a picture of them together." Haley retorted, smacking the hand away from her face and waving her phone in front of her.
"What? Let me see!" Both Emily and I hunched forwards to inspect the tiny photo that Haley presented to us on her unsteady phone screen. I was just happy to add more faces to my mental-logbook, and I was pretty curious what this 'squirrel' girl looked like. "Haley. That's just a blurry photo of Leah with Clint taking the trash out in the background."

I guess this was what it was like living in a small town. Some days, news was so slow, you'd just make your own up. I'd never been somewhere so close-knit before. I'd only ever lived in two other homes - both of which were in the city, where strangers never stuck around long enough to reach any level of permanence. Sure, there always seemed to be the same characters dotted about on the morning train journey. A middle-aged businessman with his trusty laptop, parcelled up in a pin-stripe suit. Two teenage girls, sisters it seemed, with their curled blonde hair tangling together as one leaned her head against the other to snatch an extra few minutes of sleep. But when you stopped to actually look closer, their faces were always different. A change in eye colour, a birthmark here and there. Everybody was as fleeting as the blurred landscape that flew by outside of the carriage window.

With thousands of houses and apartments heaving with people, news in the city was fast. If Pelican Town was a slow, sit-down restaurant, the city was a McDonald's drive through. You want a headline? Just open your phone, turn on the TV. You could be fed in seconds. But none of it meant anything. There were endless streams of articles about people you didn't know, doing things you couldn't relate to. For many, it was addictive - for others, it just became too tiring to keep up with.

"Not to be rude or anything, but why are you here again? Don't you have a kitchen back on the farm?" Haley questioned in a patronising tone, her arms folded across her chest once more.
"Yeah, I have a kitchen. But the oven doesn't work anymore. One of the knobs fell off last time I went anywhere near it."
"So we're having a baking session!" Emily sung the last two words in an overdramatic high tone, clutching a wooden spoon that acted as her microphone. And then, to the tune of 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton, she harmonised: "We're making Rhubarb pie!"

I started to spread the ingredients I had bought across the wooden landscape of Emily's dining table. In my left hand, I unfurled the slightly-crumpled letter that would act as our recipe.

Dear Sophie,
When I'm not taking care of my darling animals, I like to experiment in the kitchen. Since we've become friends I want to share some of my recipes with you. This is my favourite type of pie, so I hope you enjoy it!
-Marnie

Scribbled on the back of the off-white sheet of paper were a set of simple steps, helpfully numbered and abbreviated so as not to take up too much space. Since Marnie had been one of the kindest souls I had met so far in the valley, I thought it'd be only right to pay back her generosity with my first attempt at following her instructions. I remember having a lot of fun baking as a child, whether it be clumsily cracking eggs into large mixing bowls or smearing coloured icing all over my hands while I tried to decorate cupcakes. Hopefully I could regain that joy again, now that I had more time in my day to devote to such nourishing, homely hobbies.

"We didn't forget anything, did we?" Emily asked as we both took another glance at the ball of dough we had created with our flour-caked hands.
"No, I don't think so. It's just a basic pie crust - wheat flour, butter, and sugar. We put the sugar in... right?"
"Yes!" Emily exclaimed with a laugh. "Either that, or salt! I'm sure she won't be able to taste the difference."
"Don't even joke!" I responded, but my mouth curled up into a smile. "It has to be perfect or else I'll throw myself off the Cindersap cliffs."

"It'll be delicious! Afterall, it's full of our love and positive energy," She reassured, her hand tenderly touching the side of the bowl. "Anyway, we're not even near finished. Do you have the rhubarb?"
"Here." I clutched a handful of long, ruby-red stems of rhubarb in my hands, and began to rinse them under the cool stream of the kitchen tap. I was pretty sure that Rhubarb was out of season in the valley, so they weren't fresh-grown from the trusty corners of my farm. Hopefully they weren't too bitter - but we could always add more sugar.

"So we need to chop them up into little pieces - and that's it?" Emily read from the recipe with her finger trailing along the scrawled letters. "Then we can construct it all together in the tin. Easy!"
"You're not the one chopping the rhubarb. You better pray I don't slice one of my fingers off along with it."
"Ahh, whatever, it wouldn't be a big deal." Emily giggled, waving me off with a waft of her hand. "Harvey's down the road, he'd just sew it back on. Or, he'd accidentally attach the wrong thing - and you'd have a piece of rhubarb as a finger."
I fake gagged. "Eugh! I don't want a mushy rhubarb finger! Do you think I'd become some kind of half human half fruit mutant?"
"Maybe Marnie and Shane would skip the pie and just eat you for dessert."

As we spent several minutes constructing the pie and sliding it into it's burning-hot oven prison, I played Emily's words over in my mind. I wasn't making it for Marnie and Shane. I was just making it for Marnie. Of course, I knew that he was her nephew, and that they lived together. And that each time I made my way to the scarlet-painted door of her ranch, there was the slightest possibility that I would have to lay my eyes on him - that I would have to see his stupid blue Jojamart sweatshirt, or be the recipient of his scornful gaze. Why were they so different, like chalk and cheese? Of all the people, why did she have to be his aunt?

After a painstakingly-long half hour of Emily giving me a tour of the crystal collection that lined the shelves of her bedroom wall, the pie had finally turned golden and was ready to be devoured. The plan for the evening was to swing by the saloon so that Emily could help Gus with some issue that had arisen in the stock room, and then we would travel to Marnie's ranch together to present her with her rhubarb surprise.

"Calling me in here on my night off," Emily muttered under her breath as she heaved the door of the Stardrop Saloon open. "I hope he appreciates me."
"You're in here pretty much every day. I'm sure he does."

She made her way to Gus, who was standing proudly behind the bar, before they both shuffled away and entered one of the small doors that lined the back wall of the room. I peered around - there weren't many here tonight. Just a man who looked suspiciously similar to the subject of Haley's gossip earlier, sitting across from a bearded individual wearing a battered brown hat. And, of course, Shane.

I didn't know how long Emily would be, so I took my place on one of the red velvet barstools, tracing small circles along the countertop with my finger. Gus had re-entered the room now, rather quickly, to reclaim his place behind the bar. We exchanged smiles, and hellos, and awkward small chit chat.

"I'll have another pint." Shane requested, moving from his usual gloomy part of the room to standing right beside me. Yes, he would have to put some effort in today, as his usual alcohol-providing angel was not on duty to slide him beers whenever he gave her the nod of his head.

"Coming right up." Gus turned around to find a tall glass and prepare the beverage.

I pried open the lid of the Tupperware box that sat on my knee to take another peek at the pie - to make sure it was still safe, and in one piece, and that it hadn't magically transformed into anything else while my eyes were diverted. The crust was soft and golden, and the rhubarb contents were still bubbling slightly, trying their best to spill and escape their pastry barrier.

"What's in the box, then?" Shane asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned across my chest to peer into the container. My hair brushed lightly against his neck as I was hit with the musty scent of his aftershave and natural body odour. And then - as if it were happening in horrifically slow motion - he swiped his hand to break off a piece of the pie, throwing it in his mouth.

"Shane!" Was all I could choke out in shock.
"What?" He muttered between chews as his eyes connected with mine, his eyebrow furrowed in confusion.
"That-" I started, snapping the container shut so as to protect it from another attack, "-was for Marnie. I spent ages - it was supposed to be perfect."

"Okay, calm down - don't cry about it." He teased, rolling his eyes. "Consider me your taste-tester. It's pretty good."
"But you've ruined it."
"Come on, don't be stupid. I broke the smallest piece off." His eyes were still locked on mine as he sucked a little bit of the spilled rhubarb juice off his calloused index finger.

He was such a pig. A careless idiot of a pig. He must've drank more than I thought, because the last time we had met over the battleground of the Stardrop Saloon, he wouldn't stand so close to me, or talk to me in full sentences - and let his gaze linger for longer than a few seconds. And I'm sure that in the bright light of day, he wouldn't sample my baked goods, either. But he was very good at hiding his intoxication. His body was steady, and his words weren't slurred, and his mind seemed to be as sharp as it was when he was sober. I began to wonder whether I had ever actually seen him sober.

"Sophie. I'm so sorry." I heard Emily's voice calling from the corner of the room. "This is going to take longer than I thought - and it's already 7PM."
"It's 7 already?" Shane exclaimed, running a hand over his stubbled face as his colour drained a little. "I promised I would be back to help her-"
"It's okay Em, I'll head out now. I'll let Marnie know that you helped me with the pie."
Shane slid his empty pint onto the wooden bar counter. "I guess I'm coming with you."

I wouldn't enjoy a stroll through the isolated Cindersap woodland with Shane on a normal day, let alone now - when my jaw was still clenched with quiet, seething irritation. The sun had already started to set and the warm air around us was painted darker - sending shadows of the trees sprawling across the floor. The odd daisy or dandelion lit up golden from the final sunbeams trying to escape their eventual fate. Shane had been entirely silent on our journey so far. Only a brittle stick snapping underneath the weight of my boots interrupted the quiet of the evening. I could see a group of birds lined up on an overhanging tree branch, joining together in one last sweet chorus. The mottled grass swayed from left to right under the influence of a faint breeze. All I could think, as I stole a glance at the man to my right, was - what a waste of a lovely night.

As we neared the door of Marnie's ranch, I felt the sudden warm grip of Shane's hand on my skin, causing an involuntary flurry of goosebumps to erupt along my arm. My breath caught in my throat as he spun me towards him slightly, so that our eyes met under the low light. "Farmer."

I swallowed, and peered down at his large hand - it was so big that it swallowed my entire wrist, latching onto my skin so tight it almost hurt. His knuckles had turned a paler shade of white. "What?"
"Tell her that I was with you."
"What?" I repeated again.
Shane's eyes searched my face. "My aunt. I was supposed to be back an hour ago. Any other day it wouldn't matter, but today it was important. I need her to think I was anywhere but the Saloon."
"I'm not lying for you."

His eyes switched from desperation to irritation, his eyebrows furrowing a little as he gripped my wrist tighter. "Why not? God, is it because I ate some of your stupid pie? It doesn't hurt you to do this for me."
"Get off - you're hurting me." I stumbled backwards as I broke from his hold. "I really like your aunt. I don't want to lie to her."
Shane shook his head, scratching at his scalp out of annoyance, as he bridged the gap between us again. His breath stunk of beer, so strong that I was sure Marnie would notice it anyway. The warmth that permeated from his body was touching me again, caressing my skin like it had the other night, hinting at the burning heat that was hidden under his clothes. "What, are you always this good? Do everything you're supposed to, do you?"

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I remained silent. I almost forgot how to breathe. He was standing so close to me that I was engulfed by his lingering, intoxicating scent, and his dilated pupils that bore into mine. All I could think about was how large his hand was, and how I had felt under it.

"Just lie for me." Shane pleaded once more, softly this time, as I heard the door of Marnie's ranch creak open.

"What are you doing here, Sophie?" Marnie questioned as her eyes scanned over us both, standing startled and still under the remaining dull glow of the sun.

I clutched the box tight to my chest and stepped forwards, meeting her under the arch of the doorway. "This is for you. I had some help from Emily."

Marnie opened the box carefully, and I watched as her face erupted into a beaming smile. "Rhubarb pie! So you got my letter, then. Oh Sophie, that's very kind of you."
"It's no problem, I haven't baked anything in a while." I responded with a soft smile, even though my breath still felt shaky. "So it might be a bit grim."

"I'm sure it will be lovely." Her gaze flitted to the figure standing next to me, and she shook her head. "As for you, I'm disappointed. But not surprised. Where have you been? -Oh, don't even bother. I know damn well where. The saloon."

I wasn't quite sure what had gotten into me. Maybe I had been possessed by the evil ghost that Emily so-adamantly believed lived in the sewers down south. Or maybe it was the fact that Shane's stare was burning a hole into the side of my head, and thus removing any trace of my frontal lobe - but I felt sorry for him. I really did. And I had already opened my mouth and started to say, "No, he wasn't."

"Oh-" Marnie clearly wasn't expecting my interruption, as she leaned against the edge of the doorway. Shane just stared on at me, as if silently willing me to continue.
"He wasn't at the saloon. He was with me." I fidgeted from one foot to the other. "I, uh, saw him coming from Jojamart. And I needed help with something. I'm sorry that I held him up."
"No no Sophie, don't be silly. Don't apologise!" Marnie replied, her stern facial expression melting once more into its softer, natural state. She looked down at the box in her hand, and patted it with the other. "Well, I'll just put this in the fridge."

Shane turned to me as soon as Marnie had left our sight, his mouth curling up into a satisfied smirk. I thought he would've met me with appreciation, or relief, but the expression on his face was more like a perverted satisfaction that I had seen on him before - when he enjoyed seeing me uncomfortable under his influence. He stepped forwards, as if he had noticed the effect that his closeness had on me, and watched me fidget slightly under his shadow.

"I can't believe you'd lie to my aunt." His deep voice was quiet, so only I could hear. "That's horrible."

The entire inner contents of my body were burning up, set aflame, by what I could only assume was anger. I hadn't felt it quite like this before. My heart was racing - all I knew was that it was very uncomfortable, and I wanted it to stop. There were no words that came out of my mouth. I stood caged under his gaze.

"Good little farmer girl. She'll do anything I say."