If for Any Reason

by Courtney Walsh

It was a good thing. Emily couldn’t spend another day holed up in that house or making excuses not to go fishing/picnicking/hiking with Hollis and his family.

  She knew she could have easily spent those days with people she genuinely liked, and they would’ve welcomed her, but she wasn’t a part of the McGuire family, and no amount of wishing would make it so.

  Best to remember that from the beginning.

  But she’d told Jolie she’d go boating with them today, and breaking promises to children had to be among the world’s worst offenses.

  “Emily?”

  “Sorry.” She realized she’d been daydreaming again. “Yes, I was on Broadway. Only once.”

  “Don’t downplay it.” Harper gave her a playful push. “How many people can say they’ve been on Broadway at all?”

  Maybe she should be proud, but with circumstances what they were, all the good things she’d lived seemed like another life.

  “So you run marathons?” Emily remembered hearing that at dinner on her first night back.

  Harper laughed. “Is that what they told you?”

  “Yeah. Is it not true?”

  “No, it’s true,” Harper said. “I just think it’s funny that no matter what I do, my family thinks that is the most impressive thing about me. Yes, I run. It helps me clear my head. You should try it sometime.”

  “You think I need to clear my head?” Emily asked, thinking that she definitely needed to clear her head, though she’d rather do it by watching Netflix and eating a pint of Häagen-Dazs than running even one mile, let alone twenty-six.

  Before Harper could respond, Jolie burst through the front door. “Emily! You’re here!”

  Harper backed up. “Whoa. I didn’t get that kind of greeting when I showed up, JoJo.”

  Jolie flung her arms around Harper and squeezed her aunt. “Sorry, Aunt Harper. Here’s an extra hug to make up for that.”

  “You have all summer to make it up to me, kid,” Harper said.

  “Not the whole summer,” Jolie said. “Just a month.”

  Harper tousled the girl’s hair. “Why not the whole summer?”

  “Didn’t Dad tell you?”

  “No,” Harper said. “Why wouldn’t you stay the whole summer?”

  Jolie shrugged. “Dad probably didn’t want me here that long.”

  Harper looked at Emily, whose eyes darted to Jolie, then over to Hollis.

  But before either of them could respond, the girl grinned. “Emily, what did you think of the headshot I sent you? I’ve got so many questions!”

  Emily had questions for Jolie too—namely, why wouldn’t Hollis want her there for the whole summer?

  Jolie slipped her hand inside Emily’s and squeezed. “Do you like the ocean? I do, but only from a distance. Uncle Hayes is helping me conquer my fear that a wave is going to pull me down and carry me out to sea.” They started walking toward Hollis’s Jeep. “I’m kind of scared to be out on a boat. I think my dad is a good swimmer, though. At least I hope so—you know, in case one of us goes overboard.”

  “Jolie, run and grab the sunscreen,” Hollis said. “I left it on the counter.”

  Jolie let go of Emily’s hand, all the warmth draining from it.

  Emily stood awkwardly beside Hollis’s Jeep as he played Tetris with their boat-trip supplies.

  “How’s the house?” he asked.

  They hadn’t spoken since their unfortunate meeting on the sidewalk outside the arts center. She didn’t like being at odds with Hollis—it felt like something in her world was broken. But then, lately it felt like everything was broken.

  She folded her arms and looked away, a gentle wind riffling her hair. She tucked it behind her ear and nodded with complete indifference. “Needs a lot of work.”

  “What are you going to do about that?”

  Emily shrugged. “I hired a guy.”

  “The guy from last week? What do you know about him?” Hollis had abandoned his task and now gave Emily his undivided attention, which, coincidentally, Emily did not want.

  “Well, I met him,” Emily said. “I interviewed him. He didn’t murder me.”

  “Did you interview anyone else? You should’ve called me before making a final decision.”

  “I wasn’t sure you would’ve wanted to talk to me, you know, after . . .”

  He looked away as her voice trailed off. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

  She shifted. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have been so nosy.”

  His face warmed into a familiar smile. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t nosy.”

  “Ha-ha.” She rolled her eyes, but secretly, she was thankful for the ease of tension between them.

  “So is this guy a contractor?” Hollis had probably been stalking her house with a pair of binoculars the entire time Jack was there.

  “He’s an investment banker,” Emily said.

  Hollis only stared.

  “Look, he’s nice. He said he gets bored easily and needs a summer project.” Emily was losing confidence. “And he was the only one who called me back.”

  “Emily—” Hollis was about to say something sensible; Emily could hear it in his tone.

  She cut him off before he could go on. “The goal is to get it on the market and sell it as quickly as possible.” The sooner I can get out of here and put this all behind me, the better.

  Hollis looked away. “Maybe you’ll want to keep it.”

  “I would never keep it,” she said. “It’s not practical.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want a house, Hollis.” Was the third degree payback for bringing up baseball?

  “It’s a summer home,” he said. “You wouldn’t have to live there year-round.”

  “I don’t want a home here at all,” she said quickly. Not that I could afford it.

  Seconds ticked by and Hollis held on to her gaze, and for a moment, it was as if every fear she’d buried were on her face—and Hollis could see it all.

  “So glad you could join us today, Emily.” Nan had reemerged from the cottage with another armload. “You’ve been hiding away over there all week—it’ll be good for you to get out in the sunshine.” She smiled.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” Emily said.

  Hollis finally released her from his eye prison and took the stack of towels his mother was holding, then loaded them into the car without a word as Nan raced off to fuss over something in the other car. Emily tried not to notice the muscles in his arms—even his forearms were well-defined. Who had muscles in their forearms? Baseball players, that’s who. Emily found it terribly distracting.

  So far, retirement had done nothing to harm his physique.

  “I can help,” Hollis said without looking at her.

  Emily frowned. “With what?”

  “The house.”

  “Not this again.” Was his goal to keep her under his watchful eye until she was ready to leave the island for good?

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a silly idea.” She looked away.

  “Why?”

  She searched her mind for any practical-sounding reason and came up empty until she heard Jolie chatting in the house behind her. “You should spend the summer with your daughter.”

  “I am spending the summer with my daughter.” There was an edge to his voice. “But I’m guessing she wants to do more than hang around with me for the next three weeks.”

  Did she? Maybe all she really wanted to do was get to know her dad. Couldn’t he understand that?

  “Besides, I hate to break it to you, but putting a crew together this late in the season isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Late?” Emily felt her pulse quicken. “It’s barely summer.”

  “People line up their summer help months in advance. Most of the really good workers are already booked—are you sure this guy is legit?”

  Emily screwed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. No, she wasn’t sure. She’d
been moderately concerned about Jack Walker being a serial killer, but she’d never considered he might not actually be able to get the job done.

  But Hollis had her mind spinning.

  Emily inhaled a deep breath and gathered herself. “Jack was going to make some calls. He’s supposed to start Monday. If he doesn’t have enough help, then we can talk about me hiring your family.”

  “Hiring us? Emily—”

  But Jolie cut him off. “Found it!” she called out, handing the bottle to her dad, then turning to face Emily. “You’re riding with us. There’s no room in the other car.”

  Emily turned her full attention to the girl. “Sounds great to me.”

  But it didn’t sound great. So far, nearly every interaction she’d had with Hollis had been filled with tension. How was she supposed to hold it together when he seemed able to slice through her pretense with a single glance?

  They all loaded into two vehicles and made their way from the house to the Town Pier, where Hollis said a guy he knew would be picking them up in a Boston Whaler.

  “That’s a nice boat,” Emily said.

  Hollis quirked an eyebrow as if to challenge her—did she really know what a Boston Whaler was?

  “I’ve spent a lot of years by the ocean,” she said.

  “So you’re not scared of the water?” Jolie asked.

  Emily released herself from Hollis’s gaze. “Not a bit.”

  “You surf?” he asked.

  “Surf. Paddleboard. Swim. Sail.” She fixed her gaze forward. “I love the water.”

  “Maybe you haven’t changed,” Hollis said with a gentle smirk.

  They arrived at Town Pier and walked toward the dock. Hollis pointed them in the direction of a large, sleek white boat with a red bottom and the name Edna painted on the side in red.

  “That’s us,” he said.

  “Will we all fit?” Jolie asked.

  “It’s a 420 Outrage,” Emily said.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It fits twenty.” Emily glanced at Hollis, pleased she’d effectively impressed him with her knowledge. “Your friend owns this boat?”

  “It’s like his baby.” Hollis shook his head, but his face read amused.

  Jolie took off in the direction of the boat, followed by the rest of the McGuire family. Harper was teasing Hayes about something that sounded like an inside joke while their parents walked hand in hand toward the water.

  Emily tried not to fall into sync with Hollis, but it happened, the way it always had when they were kids. She was a year between the two brothers, so she could’ve just as easily had the best friendship with the younger McGuire. But it was the man at her side with whom she’d made a blood pact of lifelong friendship, not to mention the countless spit-shakes, pinkie swears, and even a first kiss, if you could call it that.

  She certainly didn’t. She still credited Tommy Wayfair from the ninth grade with that honor. Or the horror, as it were.

  She and Hollis were so young it couldn’t be counted—even if she did remember everything about that night in stark detail.

  It was late one night after a full day at the beach. They’d had dinner outside in the McGuires’ backyard and Nan had made them a huge pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade to quench their thirst after hours in the sun. All four of the kids ate burgers off the grill, laughed, played in the yard, ran back down to the beach, and now, at the end of it all, Hollis and Emily were the only two left outside.

  Hayes and Harper had both been called in—Harper went willingly; Hayes protested. “I’m practically as old as Hollis, Ma,” he’d whined.

  “Practically as old means not quite as old, young man,” Nan said with a wink. “Hollis, a few more minutes, okay?”

  Nan took her reluctant son inside, and Hollis plopped down in the sand, staring out over the ocean, the moon full and bright.

  Emily sat down next to him. “Secret, secret.”

  Hollis groaned. He hated most of the games she made up, but especially this one. The rules said that once a week, one of them could call “Secret, secret,” and the other had to share something about themselves that nobody knew or answer whatever question the asker wanted to know. They took turns, and that week, Emily got to be the asker.

  Hollis hated the game because he hated anything that required him to share feelings. “Boys aren’t into all that talking stuff,” he’d told her the year before when she first explained the rules.

  “Then how am I ever going to really know you, Hollis McGuire?” she’d asked.

  “You already know plenty,” he’d said, but they both knew it was pointless for him to protest. When Emily made up her mind, she didn’t stop until she got what she wanted.

  The night had gone quiet, and Emily thought of all the things they’d shared thanks to this game and its “silly rules” as her friend called them. It’s how she’d learned he didn’t like coming to Nantucket for a long time because the kids on the beach called him “white trash” and “Holly Hobbie.” He didn’t bother to tell them Hollis was a family name and one he was proud to have.

  It’s how he learned that sometimes, late at night, she wondered if her mother would ever tell her who her father was, that she was afraid of never knowing him, of never having a real family. It’s how they both learned they didn’t have many friends once they left Nantucket.

  They might have been from two different worlds, but in those moments, Emily Ackerman and Hollis McGuire weren’t that different at all.

  “I don’t have a secret,” Hollis had told her after she announced it was time to play again.

  “Everyone has secrets,” Emily said.

  “You already know all of mine.” Hollis pulled his knees closer to his chest. “You even know about the time I shoplifted that package of Skittles and my dad made me take it back and apologize. Nobody knows about that—not even Hayes.”

  “Secret, secret,” Emily said as if to remind him she didn’t want to hear his lame excuses—the rules were the rules.

  He sat quietly for a long time as if running through a list of things he might tell her. The water chased the shore only a few feet in front of them as they sat in silence. Sometimes it took him a while to come up with something. He was a pensive kid to begin with, and Emily appreciated that he took the game seriously enough to consider his options before finally sharing.

  After several minutes of silence, Hollis groaned again. “I don’t want to play tonight, Em.”

  “You have one, I can tell.” She spun toward him. “I can always tell when you think of something to share. Spill it.”

  Then, with his eyes fixed on the ink-black ocean in front of them, he finally blurted the secret as if it were a shaken bottle of soda whose lid had just been unscrewed. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”

  Emily was taken aback. “You do?”

  Hollis still refused her eyes. “Yeah.” He picked up a rock and threw it in the ocean.

  She paused. “Well, then, why don’t you kiss me so you can stop wondering?”

  He looked at her. “Seriously?”

  Emily shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Because we’re friends.”

  “So?”

  “Friends don’t kiss.”

  “Yeah, that’s true.” She turned away and sat for a few long seconds without speaking. “But maybe we’re the kind of friends who do?”

  Hollis stared at her, those bright-hazel eyes flickering, as if he wondered if she was trying to trick him. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

  Emily turned to face him square on and folded her legs underneath her. “Me neither.”

  Slowly Hollis mirrored her position, legs crossed underneath him, facing her. He looked serious and maybe a little nervous, but Emily didn’t feel nervous at all . . . until he scooted closer.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  She nodded. She hadn’t thought about kissing Hollis before, but now she was curious.

  She could hear distant
voices down the beach, and if she listened closely enough, she bet she could also hear her heart pounding.

  He sat up on his knees, leaning in close, and Emily closed her eyes as he pressed his lips on hers. Hollis’s lips were soft, and they tasted like cherry Popsicles. After a few seconds, he pulled away, just as his mom rang the bell that meant it was time for him to come inside.

  “I gotta go,” he said.

  “Okay, see ya.”

  He ran off, leaving her sitting on the beach wondering why kissing was such a big deal. And also wondering when she’d get to do it again.

  Dear Emily,

  Let’s talk about kissing for a minute. I really hope we get to have this conversation face-to-face, mostly because it will be so fun to get your thoughts on kissing. After my first kiss (which I did NOT tell my mom about) I remember thinking, “This is super weird.” I mean, who invented kissing? It was wet and sloppy and not pleasant at all. The movies had it all wrong, I can tell you that. . . . There was nothing romantic about that kiss.

  But then I had my second kiss and I wanted to find whoever invented kissing and personally thank them for their contribution to society. I hope your first kiss is sweet and innocent. I hope there’s no pressure (and no unwanted saliva!). I hope you wait until you find someone you really like before letting him kiss you.

  And I hope, afterward, you run inside and tell me all about it.

  Love,

  Mom

  CHAPTER 17

  IT WASN’T LIKE HOLLIS to call in favors. Especially not from former teammates. Maybe someday it would feel perfectly normal, but his retirement was still so fresh it was hard to associate with anything about baseball, including his old friends.

  They were a couple of months into the season, and he’d found ways to keep himself occupied, at least enough not to think about everything he was missing.

  But Jimmy Williams somehow felt less like a “baseball buddy” and more like an old friend.

  More than once, the two had bonded over their summers in Nantucket—neither of them really fit in. Hollis’s family came to work, not to rest, and Jimmy was a poor kid who first discovered the island through an outreach program with his church. Even after Jimmy was traded to Philadelphia, he and Hollis stayed in touch. A power hitter and womanizer, Jimmy “The Crank” Williams was all brawn and had always been known for partying. But he’d found Jesus somewhere along the way and his whole lifestyle had changed.