I set Prim's letter aside and organize the ones from Peeta by the postmark date. I open the oldest one first, written a couple of days before I moved to Portland.

Dear Katniss,

Thank-you again for the blueberry jam. I left the empty jar on your porch. I hope you found it.

I knocked on the door but no one answered, then I walked around back and noticed the truck was gone. I expect you and your uncle were out.

But maybe it's better you weren't there. I don't want to cause you any more pain. I never expected our last meeting to go so badly. My thought was to see you one last time and make you understand why it could never work between us. But it didn't go that way at all. I'm so very sorry to have hurt you.

From the first moment I saw you back home, when you came into the house with Delly, I was bowled over by your striking appearance and your level-headedness.

I remember the way he looked at me that day – how nervous I was.

As I got to know you better, I was impressed by your kindness.

You gave Delly a copy of Romeo and Juliet, and as I read it I couldn't help but think of you as Juliet and myself as Romeo.

My heart flutters at his words.

But one thing stuck in my mind as I finished reading that play while convalescing in your family's house. We are the same as those star-crossed lovers because we, too, come from different worlds.

Your father owned a personal library. My dad couldn't even read.

I clutch the letter in my hand wishing he were standing in front of me so that I could tell him how foolish his argument is. Maybe his father and mine would not have been intellectual equals but Peeta and I are.

That's only one of the many differences between us. There are many others.

I know I told you that those differences would always divide us, but I'm starting to wonder if that's true. I've met a fair number of people working on Mount Hood from all kinds of backgrounds and we all get along fine.

In fact, my friend Finn is the son of a fisherman. He married the daughter of a well-to-do business owner and I'd be hard pressed to find a better-matched couple.

You know Finn; he told me that he and his Annie met you at a dance a few weeks ago. He said that you looked well and had even danced with a couple of different partners. I'd be lying if I didn't tell you that I wished I'd been there to dance with you, if you'd have let me.

So Finn was right. Peeta did take notice of my dance partners. Is that why he returned the jar only a few days later?

But I expect that I have destroyed whatever feelings you once had for me. You have every reason to be upset and angry, but I'm hoping that you can see it in your heart to forgive me.

Peeta

I refold the letter. I'm not angry with you Peeta.

I pull my father's coat tighter around me, as the wind picks up. The branches on the tree nearest to me sway gently in the bitter breeze. I open the next envelope.

Dear Katniss,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm keeping busy. Every morning, they feed us a hot breakfast and transport us in trucks up the mountain to work. The labor is strenuous, different than any I've done before, but I can't complain because I'm learning new skills. We break mid-day for lunch and when the trucks return us to Summit Meadows at night we are fed another hot meal.

In the evenings, we unwind in the usual ways, playing cards, talking, and reading.

Recently Annie loaned me a book, The Rich Man's Pearl. She said it was one of her favorites. I heard Delly speak of it a couple of times, so I was somewhat suspicious about its content as her interests favor weepy stories. But I was pleasantly surprised. It was quite the entertaining tale, a story about the sacrifices a body makes for love.

I set the letter down for a moment to smile at Peeta's comment about Delly's taste in literature. He is dead on, in my opinion. And now, here is another favorable review of The Rich Man's Pearl. One of these days, I must read that book.

If a body's willing, the WPA will permit him to work on his days off for extra pay, and I've taken advantage of that opportunity. While I have no debt, it weights on my mind to help out Delly as best I can until my brother returns home. It would help greatly too if I could collect payment from that editor I told you about when we met up in Indiana. He never paid me for a series of illustrations I provided for his publication at the end of last year. I've already written him a couple of letters about the matter.

Sorry if this talk of my financial situation seems ill mannered, but these matters consume my daily thoughts, just as much as my feelings for you.

He thinks about me daily?

I hope that I will hear from you someday soon.

Peeta

I tear open the next envelope, as the wind grows stronger.

Dear Katniss,

I wanted to write and tell you about a painting that will be on the wall of the lodge if you should ever get up here and see it, or in case anyone tells you about it.

I was asked to do some preliminary sketches for a mural and they wanted me to include an Indian princess. Unconsciously the woman I sketched bears a striking likeness to you with her long braid, and piercing eyes and a scowl that could make a man flinch in his place. (I'm only kidding.) I didn't even realize the resemblance until I was looking over my supervisor's shoulder as he reviewed it.

Of course he liked it immediately and wouldn't allow me to make a single change so I must warn you that your likeness will be memorialized on a wall in the lodge.

If it bothers you, please let me know.

Peeta

He painted an Indian princess to look like me? I'm flattered. Mama always insisted the Everdeen side must have some Indian ancestor in our bloodline – which attributed to Primmie's and my high cheekbones. For a moment I regret cutting my hair. But it will grow long again.

The sky grows darker as I open the next letter. If it begins to rain, I'll need to find shelter.

Dear Katniss,

I'm writing this letter while I sit outside watching the sun go down. The sky is painted with orange and red streaks. It's a beautiful sight and I wonder if you, too, are staring at the same sky that looks to be on fire.

I try to stay away from my tent for at least an hour every evening after dinner so Finn and Annie can have some privacy. They have to keep their marriage secret because the WPA won't permit married persons to work on the same project.

It's funny to see how they attempt to hide it, although I think most everyone in the camp has figured it out by now. Finn and I share a tent, although I'm sure he'd much rather be sharing it with his bride who bunks with another woman.

In a way I have an inkling of how he feels because even though we were only pretending to be married, it was nice to fall asleep with my arms around you. Maybe that sounds too forward, especially in light of what I said later, but it's the truth. In spite of the difficulties of our trip west, my dreams were always pleasant when I held you close.

I hope to hear back from you one of these days, although I would understand if you've given up on me. Still a man hopes.

Missing you and wishing you the best,

Peeta

The rain falls lightly as I stare at the page in front of me.

It was nice to fall asleep with my arms around you.

"Oh Peeta, I felt exactly the same," I whisper.

I shove all the letters into my purse and stand up. I need to find shelter to read Peeta's last letter and Primmie's as well.

The public library is a few blocks away. I go inside and search for a place to sit. It's packed on this rainy day. I find a seat on a wooden bench, fitting myself between a pregnant woman and a hobo.

I pull the last two letters from my purse. I open Peeta's letter first.

Dear Katniss,

You haven't replied to any of my letters. But if you could find it in your heart to see me once more, I would greatly appreciate it.

I can get a ride to Sandy this Sunday afternoon. I'll be at your house at 1 p.m.

Looking forward to seeing you soon.

Peeta

I look at the date at the top of the letter and realize that he's asking to meet me today. I left the diner with Uncle Haymitch and Effie around 1 p.m. The library clock shows that it is now 1:35 p.m.

I have missed Peeta completely. He has no idea that I only received his letters today. And there was no one at my uncle's house to tell him that I moved to Portland three weeks ago.

Disappointed again at our failure to connect, I stare off into space mentally composing a letter to Peeta, losing myself in thought. But the pregnant woman next to me begins to cough, interrupting my thoughts, and I remember that I still have one more letter to read. Primmie's.

Dear Katniss,

I wanted to tell you the good news. Maybe it's gruesome of me to call it good since a man died, but seeing as it's someone we both loathe, you may feel the same.

Yesterday I received a letter from a lawyer. It seems Coriolanus Snow died unexpectedly in late August. He had no known heirs and no legal will. According to the lawyer, his entire estate will be turned over to the probate courts. As our old family home is one of the many properties Snow owned, the lawyer says he would be happy to help us file paperwork to put in a claim for the return of our old house. He thinks he could persuade the judge that Mama was under severe duress when she signed the paperwork. Of course the lawyer would expect remuneration on his end, but he said we wouldn't have to pay right off. It might be worth considering…

My eyes skim over the rest of the letter. I might have cared about reclaiming our family home in Kentucky once, but I have no desire to partake in a prolonged court battle, or worry about paying an attorney who is clearly fishing for business.

My sister can fight that battle on her own. I'm not interested.

I shove all of the letters into my purse. My heart is flooded with emotions. I stand up determined to return to the Boggs' house and write to Peeta this afternoon. I'll drop my letter off in the mail tomorrow morning before I go to work.

The rain is falling heavily when I leave the library. I half walk, half run back to the Boggs' house.

I don't even get the chance to turn my key into the lock when Mrs. Boggs opens the front door.

"You're soaking wet dear," Mrs. Boggs says as I come inside. "Maybe you should go upstairs and change before you talk to your guests."

Guests? Who would visit me here? A fearful thought runs through my mind. Has Cato brought his widowed mother to visit me? He'd mentioned that he lived with her while we were on our date. He said he wanted me to meet her. Of course, I tried to discourage him.

"Who is it?"

Uncle Haymitch appears in the entryway. "Didn't expect to see me so soon?"

My jaw drops. "What are you doing here?"

"Effie and I got all the way home and found a friend of yours sitting on the porch. Effie insisted I turn around and drive him to town to meet with you."

"Peeta?" I whisper.

My uncle nods, and he leans close. "Play this right sweetheart and I may get a story out of you yet."

How is it possible for my uncle to have made the round-trip to Sandy and back again so quickly? But I'm too excited to think about the logistics. Instead I roll my eyes at him.

Uncle Haymitch looks to Mrs. Boggs. "Thanks for your hospitality, ma'am. I enjoyed our conversation about how you and the mister met. At a boxed lunch social at church. Very sweet."

"Your uncle is a fine man," Mrs. Boggs says as she closes the door behind him. "Why don't you put on some dry clothes? I'll entertain your gentleman caller in the meantime."

It takes me less than two minutes to put on dry clothes and fix my hair, wondering what Peeta will think of it cut short. I come downstairs and find Mrs. Boggs and Peeta in the living room talking about the lodge where Peeta works.

"There you are dear," Mrs. Boggs says, causing Peeta to turn and catch sight of me. He stands and Mrs. Boggs excuses herself and suddenly Peeta and I are alone in the Boggs' living room.

The look of longing on his face makes me want to fall into his arms. But after not seeing him for nearly three months, I want to hear what he has to say first.

"How are you Katniss?"

The mere sound of his voice saying my name causes my heart to ache.

"I just got your letters today."

"Your uncle told me. Have you had a chance to read them yet?"

"Yes."

A sheepish look comes over him. "Will you sit down and listen to me."

I sit in the armchair.

Peeta perches at the edge of the sofa, leaning forward.

"I was wrong to push you away Katniss. Things had been bad for a long while and even though I love you, I couldn't drag you into it."

He loves me.

"But I've been doing a lot of thinking since we've been apart, and it's obvious to me that I can't live my life based solely on my outward circumstances."

"What do you mean?"

"The way things are going in this country, I don't know if I'll ever have a good enough job or enough money to provide for you in the manner you deserve. But if you'll let me, I promise to take care of your well-being - your heart and everything that's you."

His words melt my heart.

"Oh, Peeta." I reach out to grab one of his hands, as the other hand is already in his pocket.

He pulls out a tiny box, and drops to one knee.

"You might think I'm moving too fast or perhaps I'm too slow, but would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, for real?"

He hands me the box and I open it to find a pearl ring inside.

"It's genuine." He catches my eye. "I had it appraised."

I grin back at him remembering my first engagement ring with the stone of colored glass. I'm glad Peeta had the good sense to make sure he wasn't cheated.

I pull the ring out of the box and place it onto the fourth finger of my left hand, as he stands before me.

"So I'm guessing that's a yes then?"

My cheeks grow warm, and my eyes fly up to his face. "It is. Yes, I'll marry you Peeta."

"When?"

"My job ends in a few months when Cinna's wife has the baby."

"How about today?"

My mouth falls open. "But what about…"

Before I can complete the question, my uncle's booming voice calls out. "Today would be perfect."

I startle and turn around to see that Peeta and I have an audience. Uncle Haymitch stands in the arched entryway besides Effie who holds a cake box. Next to Effie is Mrs. Boggs who is crying into her handkerchief, while her husband's arm is draped round her waist.

"If you're willing, I can call the minister," Mr. Boggs says. 'He can come over and perform the ceremony right here in the house. And don't worry about the license, I'll take care of it at work tomorrow."

I turn back to Peeta, puzzled. Clearly this entire scenario must have been planned in advance with my uncle handing me a stack of letters, bringing Peeta to the Boggs' house, and Effie obtaining a cake. Even Mr. and Mrs. Boggs play roles in this finely edited story in which everything works out perfectly in the end.

But the look on Peeta face is guileless. "What do you say Katniss?"

It's like that moment I was standing at the open door of the boxcar ready to fling myself out into the darkness of the night. I didn't do it then, because it seemed too risky. And perhaps I am taking a risk marrying Peeta.

But I loved him three months ago, and even after a three-month separation I love him still. Why should I wait any longer?

The thought of sleeping in his arms tonight makes the decision easy.

Everything that follows is a blur. I remember reciting vows and a short, passionate kiss with a hint of more to come. Cake and coffee follow, along with some mild teasing from the others about our wedding night.

Peeta's ears turn a bright shade of red, which pleases me because it shows he's as nervous as I am.

Then Mr. Boggs drives us, along with my uncle, to The New Heathman Hotel, one of the finest in the city. The rain is coming down in sheets as we walk the short distance to the entrance. Peeta pulls me close in a vain attempt to keep me dry.

While my uncle goes to the front desk to get us a room and Mr. Boggs wanders off to explore the hotel's ornate lobby, Peeta leans close and whispers into my ear. "You're chilled to the bone, Katniss. You need to get out of these wet clothes."

My eyes widen at the implication in his words. His warm breath on my bare neck causes a shiver to run down my back. His hand rubs gentle circles round my back, and I can't help but think of that couple I nicknamed "the newlyweds" back in that hotel in Frankfort.

My uncle gives Peeta the key and promises to return early in the morning to drive him to work on Mount Hood. Soon we are up in our room, helping each other undress. Still we are practical creatures draping our wet clothing around the room to dry before falling into each other's arms.

Afterwards, as I lie curled up beside him, I question my new husband about the events of our wedding day.

How did my uncle turn into Friar Lawrence encouraging our quick wedding?

"So how did Uncle Haymitch get involved in all of this?"

Peeta shifts so that he faces me. "I went to his house a week ago to ask for your hand, not knowing you'd already moved to Portland. Haymitch and Effie were sympathetic and suggested I write that last letter and set up a meeting."

"So they didn't drive back and find you on their porch this afternoon?"

"Nah. I rode into Portland in the back of the truck, and wandered around until you all finished lunch. Then Haymitch and I went to the Boggs' house, while Effie and Mr. Boggs went to a bakery.

"Are you already having regrets?" Peeta nips at my lips playfully.

"No," I murmur, stunned, and I admit, flattered at all the trickery involved.

"Your uncle said he owed you, although he did ask me for something in exchange."

"You didn't offer to let him use our story? He's having some doubts about the current one he's penning."

A confused look comes into Peeta's eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about Katniss. He wants me to build him a still and make up a batch of moonshine."

Relief comes over me, and curiosity, too. "You know how to do that?"

"I'm a Mellark," he says simply. "It's in our blood."

Maybe I should be angry about everyone's machinations, but I'm not because right now I'm lying beside the man I love with his pearl ring on my finger.

I place my hand on Peeta's warm chest, feeling his steady heartbeat.

As we begin round two, a dozen thoughts race through my mind, about our jobs, and how soon we'll be able to live together as man and wife, and getting in touch with my sister to tell her I've wed.

But they all fall away as I'm swept up in Peeta's embrace, my own, personal Kentucky home, here in the state of Oregon.

Epilogue

Our abrupt honeymoon ends early the next morning, as Peeta returns to the mountain. I arrive at Cinna's shop flashing my pearl ring, and telling him of my new name, Katniss Mellark.

Juliet was right when she called "parting such sweet sorrow." Peeta and I are apart more than we are together during our first year of marriage. He works at the WPA camp on Mount Hood until the lodge is completed in early 1938, while I continue my employment with Cinna even after his son's birth, as his wife decides to stay at home for the baby's first year.

Uncle Haymitch and Effie are kind enough to let us rendezvous in my old room with the canopied bed when our schedules match up.

They vacate the house while we are there to give us privacy, with the proviso that Peeta leaves baked goods behind. Unfortunately, because we are newlyweds many of the baked goods are burned. And Peeta doesn't get around to building that still for a couple of years.

By 1941, we are doing so well that we have begun to save for a house. We live together in a small apartment in Portland – I'm a typist in a medical office, while Peeta does freelance work as a magazine illustrator.

But our lives are upset in early December.

"I may be called up," Peeta says when we hear the radio announcement about the bombing of Pearl Harbor while eating Sunday lunch with my uncle and Effie.

Only a year earlier, Peeta and even Uncle Haymitch, a veteran of the Great War, had to register when the U.S. enacted its first peacetime draft for men ages 18 to 65.

"Well, if they take you, Katniss can move in here," Uncle Haymitch says. "She can keep Effie company while I'm gone."

"Where are you going?" Effie questions.

"Back into the army to finish what we should have taken care of the first time around."

The only way I can break up the subsequent argument that ensues between Effie and my uncle is to share our good news. With a nod of approval from Peeta, I tell them that after five years of marriage, I'm expecting.

"At least stay around for the baby's birth, Uncle Haymitch."

As it turns out, neither my uncle, nor Peeta are deemed fit for combat. My uncle is too old, and the gunshot wound Peeta suffered at the hands of a revenuer which now, years later, causes him to limp when he is tired makes him physically ineligible.

But Peeta serves the government in another capacity, creating posters and other propaganda materials to support the war. And my uncle helps out in his own way, too, by writing love stories that feature women and their soldier beaus.

One day in the fall of 1944, as our daughter naps, I come across a familiar name in the newspaper. American soldier Earl Brown liberated an entire French town from the Germans.

Is this Earl the same lucky teen that found a ten-dollar bill on the restroom floor in a gas station in New Mexico years ago when we traveled west with his family? I'll likely never know because Mary Brown didn't write me after we parted in Salinas.

I often think about her and Bennie and Jack and Darius and all the others Peeta and I came across in our journey west. Whatever became of them?

I look in on the child. Her breathing is even and I suspect she'll be down for another hour at least.

Then I go in search of some paper and a pencil, hoping that I have a few drops of McDonald blood in my veins.

I have an idea.

THE END

Author's Note: The New Heathman Hotel opened in 1927 at the intersection of Park and Salmon streets. The luxury hotel stood 11 stories and had 300 rooms. The hotel still exists, although it is now called The Heathman Hotel and is relocated one block away at the corner of Broadway and Salmon Street.

WPA workers completed the building of the Timberline Lodge in February 1938.

Thanks so much for reading Everything But Money. I appreciate all the kind words I've received about this story. It is my last multi-chapter, historical fanfic. I've written ten fanfics that are historical in nature, and I'm ready to try my hand at writing original, historical romances. But rest assured, I have no plans to leave the THG fandom, quit my tumblr, or remove ANY of my stories to turn them into original books. I hope to continue writing THG stories, but they will likely be shorter works.