10. Graham
GRAHAM
T he sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the community park as I tighten the last rope on one of the canopy frames. The festival layout is almost done—just a few more adjustments to the vendor areas, and everything will be set for the decorator to add the finishing touches.
I step back, wiping the sweat from my brow as I survey the space. The park looks good. Simple, functional, and ready to welcome the crowds that will show up for the annual pork festival. I’ve been doing this for years now, and it’s become second nature—my quiet way of contributing to the town without drawing too much attention. I take a moment to stare back at what I’ve been able to create. I suppose I should accept that if I eventually have to leave Bardstown, the people here would manage fine without me.
As I gather my tools, I mentally note to talk to Mia later. I’ll let her know I’m stepping back from helping Sophie. The situation with Sophie is turning me into a jerk, and I keep acting out of character when she’s close to me. It’s not a decision I’m making lightly, but after yesterday, it’s clear that working with her isn’t the best idea. I’ll find someone else. She’ll be fine without me.
The sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Mia walking toward me, a bright smile on her face, with Dotty trailing behind her.
“Graham,” Mia calls, waving as she approaches. “How’s it coming along?”
“Almost done,” I reply, gesturing to the setup around us. “Just need to finish marking off the vendor spaces.”
Mia takes a slow look around, her smile widening. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that? I don’t know how we’d pull this off without you.”
“You’d manage,” I say, grabbing a measuring tape and heading toward the next section.
She follows me, her tone turning thoughtful. “Seriously, though. You’ve been doing this for years and never once complained. It means a lot, Graham.”
I glance at her, shrugging. “It’s just part of the job.”
“No, it’s not,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to do this, but you always show up anyway. That’s what makes this town special—people like you who make it feel like home.”
Her words make me pause, but I brush it off as I keep working, adjusting the tape lines as Mia continues.
“Bardstown has this way of bringing out the best in people,” she says. “It’s like… no matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done, you can come back here and feel like you belong. Like Sophie, for example. She’s been gone for years, building this big life in Manhattan, but she can still come back and feel at home. Because this is home.”
I freeze for a moment, her words sinking in.
Home.
The word hits me harder than I expect, dragging my thoughts back to the castle. I think about the family I left behind, the life I walked away from, and the years I’ve spent trying to convince myself that I don’t need any of it.
Mia doesn’t notice my reaction. She smiles, her voice softening. “It’s important, you know? To have a home. Somewhere to go when life gets overwhelming.”
I swallow hard, the weight of her words settling in my chest. Before I can say anything, Dotty clears her throat, her expression worried.
“We’ve got a problem,” she says, glancing between me and Mia.
Mia frowns. “What kind of problem?”
“There’s no one to play the last set of games. We are short on two people because everyone is on the rides, and we can’t keep waiting,” Dotty says, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “It’s the boat-rowing game.”
Mia turns to me, her brow lifting in silent expectation.
“No, you have already convinced me to do one thing, and that’s enough for me. I’m not playing any games,” I say immediately, shaking my head.
“Graham, it will be fun! Don’t you love sports? Row, row, row your boat!” she sings, and I resist the urge to cringe. There is no way I’m letting her talk me into yet another dilemma. I’m still trying to get myself out of this Sophie situation, thanks to her.
“No,” I repeat firmly. “I’m not playing.”
“You and Sophie could be partners if you’re worried about being paired with someone else,” Dotty interjects.
“I’m not your guy,” I say, stepping away. I am not particularly in the mood to socialize today.
“Graham,” Mia says again, this time more softly. “Come on. You’ve been part of this festival for years. You can’t deny it would actually be fun doing this. You’ve experienced these games before.”
I shake my head, but her next words stop me cold.
“You know the festival isn’t just about the food, games or the decorations,” she says. “It’s about bringing people together. Bardstown is like one big family, and you’ve been part of that family for years now. This is your home, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Home. There she goes again, reminding me how Bardstown gave me something I didn’t know I needed.
I look at Mia and Dotty, their faces full of hope, and I realize I can’t say no.
“Fine,” I say, the word heavy on my tongue. “I’ll do it.”
Mia’s face lights up, and she claps her hands together in delight. “Thank you, Graham. You have no idea how much this means.”
Dotty nods, a relieved smile spreading across her face. “You’re a good man, Graham. Sophie! Over here!” she calls, and I look at Sophie walking toward us with a bright smile. She’s dressed simply today in casual gray pants and a black shirt, her hair tied in a bun.
“You and Graham would be partners for the boat-rowing game,” Dotty says when Sophie finally reaches us.
“When did I agree to play a game of boat rowing?” Sophie asks, and Mia lets out a loud, strained laugh.
“Don’t be silly, little sis. Where’s your team spirit? Go sign up over there at that table with Graham. The games should start any second now.” Mia pushes Sophie toward the tables in front of us, and I follow suit.
“How did she get you to agree to this?” Sophie asks as we walk.
The way she talks makes me feel like she’s forgotten all about our last encounter and how I left things. I expected her to be mad at me, but here she is, smiling as we walk.
“Your sister has a way of always getting what she wants.” We finally reach the table and register.
Sophie chuckles. “She does have a way, but you know you can always tell her no, right?”
I’m about to respond to her when the announcer starts speaking.
“The game starts in five minutes, but you two need to join the other teams over there so the rules can be better explained to you,” the teenage attendant says. Sophie and I nod, grab our tags, and move along.
“I’m sorry about yesterday—the way I just took off. I want you to know you did nothing wrong,” I say as she chuckles.
“I know. I will admit, I kind of felt like I said something wrong initially, but as soon as I got home, it just felt like maybe you weren’t in the mood,” she says with a smile.
“Have you always been so understanding?” I ask her as she laughs. The wind pushes a bit of her hair outside the bun on her face, and I resist the urge to reach for the strands, tucking them gently behind her ears.
“Patience is one thing I’ve learned in my line of work. Come on, let’s go play, and we are not losing,” she says, and I smile at her.
“Definitely not,” I respond.
“ Y ou did great out there. Coming in second isn’t so bad,” Sophie says as she walks beside me, handing me a cup of juice.
“I think we make a pretty decent team. Thank you,” I say, grabbing the cup from her. “I doubt anyone’s going to remember my name tomorrow. You’re the one who kept things running.”
She shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s not about being remembered. It’s about showing up. Even though Mia and Dotty sprung this up on you from nowhere, you still chose to show up. That’s commendable.”
“I also had fun, so I’m glad I did it.”
My words hang between us, and I find myself glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s still smiling, but a hint of something deeper in her expression makes me wonder what’s happening beneath the surface.
“So,” I say after a moment, “why’d you really come back to Bardstown?”
She blinks, caught off guard by the question.
I shrug, keeping my tone casual. “You’ve got a life in Manhattan—a big one, from what I hear. Why leave that behind to come back here?”
She tilts her head, considering the question. “I wouldn’t say I left it behind. I just… needed a change. Something different.”
“Something different?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.
She laughs softly, the sound light but tinged with something bittersweet. “Manhattan is great. I’ve built a career there that I’m proud of. But it’s… relentless. Loud. Fast. After a while, it starts to feel like you’re running to keep from falling behind. And no matter how much you accomplish, this voice in your head always tells you it’s not enough.”
Her words hit closer to home than I’d like to admit, and I shift slightly, staring at the lemonade in my hands.
“And Bardstown?” I ask, keeping my voice even.
She smiles, her gaze drifting out over the park. “Bardstown feels different; it feels like you can breathe here. Like you can stop running.”
I nod slowly, understanding more than I’d care to admit.
“It’s funny,” she continues, her tone softening. “I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I came back. The quiet, the people, the sense of community. It’s not perfect, but it feels… real.”
Her words stir something in me, a mix of longing and guilt. Bardstown has been my refuge for seven years, but I’ve never thought of it the way Sophie does—not as a place to stop running, but as a place to hide.
Before I can respond, she turns to me, her expression more serious now. “What about you? What brought you to Bardstown?”
The question catches me off guard, and I take a long sip of my lemonade to buy myself time.
“Just needed a fresh start,” I say finally, keeping my answer vague, but I can still feel the pressure of her curiosity as she looks at me.
She studies me for a moment, her gaze curious but not pushy. “Well, I think you’ve done a pretty good job fitting in here.”
I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not sure everyone would agree with that.”
“I would,” she says, and the sincerity in her voice makes me glance at her again.
The silence between us stretches for a moment and feels almost comfortable. But then she speaks again, her tone softer and more hesitant.
“Can I ask you something?”
I nod, bracing myself.
“Why did you really get like that the other day? You seemed very uncomfortable at some point, like you couldn’t stand being close to me,” she asks, her voice calm but direct.
I freeze, my grip tightening around the cup in my hands.
“Was it something I said?” she continues, her brows furrowing slightly. “Or do I remind you of someone? Someone you didn’t like?”
Her words hit hard, and I struggled to find a response.
She’s not wrong—not entirely. She does remind me of someone. But it’s not a person. It’s a life—a world I tried so hard to escape.
I look away, my jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then explain it to me,” she says, her tone soft but insistent.
I shake my head, the words caught in my throat. How do I tell her she’s perfect in a way that terrifies me? Her poise, confidence, and very existence remind me of everything I’ve spent years trying to forget.
“I can’t,” I say finally, my voice low. “I don’t know how.”
Her expression falters, the hurt in her eyes cutting deeper than I expected.
“Graham—” she starts, but I cut her off, standing abruptly.
“I need to go,” I say, my tone sharper than I mean it to be.
She watches me, her eyes wide with confusion and something else—something that looks a lot like disappointment. “You are awfully good at leaving.”
Her words hit me so hard that they almost take my breath away.
“Goodnight, Sophie,” I say, gritting my teeth as I stuff my hands in my pocket, turning away before she can respond.
As I walk toward my truck, the guilt twists in my chest, heavy and unrelenting.
I didn’t mean to leave her hanging like that. But I don’t know how to let her in without risking everything I’ve built here. Bardstown is smaller than anyone could ever imagine. One person finding out the secret I’ve been keeping for seven years could lead to the entire town finding out, and I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I would ever be prepared for that.
This is turning out to be far more complicated than I ever thought.