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grain cracker equipment used to crush grains before mashing

THE CHURCH bells chimed eleven o'clock as I gathered my group outside the visitors' center.

Three couples in their sixties and seventies clustered together with the easy familiarity of people who'd shared decades of marriage.

They wore retirement garb and comfortable walking shoes and joked about rubbing bourbon on sore knees.

"Forty-three years of marriage, and this is our first real vacation without worrying about getting back to work Monday morning."

The other couples murmured agreement, sharing stories of recent retirements from teaching, accounting, postal service.

Normal people. Happy people. Their contentment felt warm and genuine, like sunshine through a window, but I found myself struggling to match their energy.

Yesterday's melancholy clung to me like morning fog.

And tomorrow's trip weighed heavily on my mind.

"The first stop on our route is the old courthouse," I began, my voice lacking its usual theatrical flair. I rallied and shared as many tidbits about the historic building as I could recall. The group was attentive, but seemed more interested in my background and Jett's.

"Are you from around here?" one of the women asked me.

"No… Arizona."

"And do you like Kentucky?"

I didn't know how to respond, so I opted for the polite answer. "Yes."

"Enough to stay?" Jett asked.

I turned to look at him in surprise. "I… don't know."

"How about you, young man?" the woman asked. "Are you from here?"

"Yes, ma'am, I was raised on a cattle farm. My family's been working the same land for three generations. Five kids, all of us learned to work with our hands from the time we could walk."

I found myself listening intently, filing away these small revelations. I'd wondered about his background, the easy way he handled mechanical things, his comfort with physical labor.

"But now you drive a tour bus?" one of the men remarked.

"I still farm," Jett said. "And I do this four days a week. The driving's fine, but it's really about the people. You get to meet all kinds of interesting—"

His gaze shifted to me as he spoke, lingering there for a moment that felt charged.

"—people," he finished.

The couples looked back and forth between us.

My cheeks warmed. Was I imagining things? Had something changed?

"Like you folks," Jett continued with a big smile. "Please note the large, empty tip jar as you reboard the bus."

The group laughed and I was glad for the return to equilibrium. The man was just turning on the charm for the customers.

Wasn't he?