If for Any Reason

by Courtney Walsh

  Emily didn’t want to talk to her. She wasn’t ready to disclose her plans about the house, and she definitely didn’t want to explain what she’d discovered about the arts center. She didn’t want to tell Eliza Ackerman that she’d just spent the day with the McGuire family—Remember them, Grandma? The people you never thought were good enough to spend time with? Oh, and by the way, did you know Hollis was a baseball superstar? He probably has more money than you!

  Emily sat down on a bench at the corner and dragged in a deep breath. What was she doing here? She could’ve had someone else handle the repairs and the sale of the house. She could’ve avoided all of this—whatever this was—and moved right along with her life.

  Never mind that her life wasn’t moving right along anywhere. Her life was in shambles. Never mind that she had nowhere else to go.

  “Miss Ackerman?”

  Emily didn’t need to turn around to know it was Gladys Middlebury behind her. She recognized the lilt in the older woman’s voice. She turned and found Gladys standing behind her, carrying a large purse and wearing the biggest pair of sunglasses Emily had ever seen.

  Further inspection told her the sunglasses were actually covering another pair of glasses, and Emily wondered why Gladys didn’t break into her substantial bank account to purchase a pair of prescription sunglasses or even try a pair of transition lenses.

  Rich people were so odd.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Middlebury,” Emily said.

  The older woman walked around to the other side of the bench so Emily could look at her without craning her neck. “I’ve been thinking about your visit the other day.”

  Emily didn’t respond. It sounded like Gladys was working herself up for something—an apology maybe? Emily had done some searching online and discovered that it had been eight years since they’d had any children’s programming at the arts center. Eight years! Knowing how much her grandfather contributed annually, the total of that was quite large. She could probably sue if she wanted to.

  Or maybe not. Maybe her grandfather didn’t have the right to earmark his donation for anything specific. It didn’t matter—she was pretending he did, and Gladys seemed to be going along with it.

  “I’ve talked to the board members—separately, as we haven’t been able to have a meeting—but we’re in agreement that we need to bring back the children’s programs.” It sounded like she was speaking through gritted teeth. This was clearly not her plan.

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  “The program was originally cut due to lack of interest by the families and lack of personnel.” Gladys removed the dark sunglasses, leaving only her regular glasses on her face. If she hadn’t looked so serious, Emily might’ve laughed.

  “Maybe things will be different now?” Emily said. “It’s been a lot of years.”

  “We think with the right leadership, that might be the case,” Gladys said. “And we would have to have the right leadership. We don’t want just anybody working with our children. The last director we had in there made the kids kiss each other during their auditions for Beauty and the Beast.”

  Emily frowned. “You’re kidding.”

  “She said she needed to ‘assess the chemistry between Belle and the Beast.’ You can imagine the phone calls we got about that one. They were children! Turns out not everyone who says they’re a good director really is.” One of Gladys’s eyebrows curved upward, and then she seemed to gather her thoughts. “We need someone passionate about the program, Miss Ackerman.”

  “I agree,” Emily said. “And I think you’ll be able to find that person if you show them you’re willing to place a priority on the children’s programming. If the director feels like they’re there simply to appease a donor, it’ll never work.”

  “We agree.” Gladys’s lips drew into a thin line. “And we pledge to give you our full support.”

  Emily straightened. “Me?”

  “Who else?” Gladys lifted her chin. “You’re the one who came in ranting about how we needed a children’s production—I’d say you displayed passion for it—and I’m told you have Broadway credentials.”

  Emily raised her hands in front of her. “No way, Mrs. Middlebury. I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

  “On this short of notice, there’s really no other choice. Surely you had children in mind when you told me the kids of Nantucket need this. Think of them.”

  The image of a smiling Jolie raced through her mind. But no. This wasn’t her intention when she marched into the arts center the other day.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m here to fix my grandparents’ house so I can sell it, and that’s going to take up most of my summer.”

  “Well, thank goodness,” Gladys said. “That house has become such an eyesore—you don’t know how many times I’ve—” She shook her head. “Oh, never mind. I don’t know what to tell you, Miss Ackerman. We see this as the only option. If you want to have a children’s production, you’re going to have to be the director.” Gladys straightened. “And if you can’t make a go of it, then you agree to allow us to spend your grandparents’ donations however we see fit.”

  Emily looked away. This was a terrible plan. She’d never worked with kids. Plus, her one attempt at directing had been a colossal, money-sucking disaster. She’d accepted the fact that she wasn’t a teacher—she was a performer. An actor. A pretender. But pretending to know how to direct a show with children? That was a stretch.

  And yet, she liked kids. She thought about Jolie and what this could mean for her—and Hollis. It could give them much-needed time together, maybe even mend something that had clearly broken between them.

  But she wasn’t in Nantucket to mend anything. She was here to do what it took to get her second chance—and then get off this dreaded island as quickly as possible.

  “Think about it, Miss Ackerman, and let me know your answer by Monday.”

  “That’s two days,” Emily said.

  Gladys raised a brow. “We could always leave things as they are and revisit this next summer, assuming your grandfather’s estate will still be contributing to the arts center.”

  Again, Emily thought of Jolie. She might not be here to mend anything, but if she could help, shouldn’t she?

  “When you find something worth fighting for, fight.”

  The advice challenged her. Dared her to walk away. But hadn’t her mother been talking about something else—equality, justice, something noteworthy?

  Surely she hadn’t meant a children’s theatre. Who fought for a children’s theatre?

  But what if fighting for it led to another kid’s life being changed, the same way hers had been?

  As soon as the thought entered her mind, another one bulldozed over it. What if I fail again?

  She wanted to groan. There was no good answer. She wasn’t a teacher. She wasn’t even the kind of person most parents would want leading their kids—she was a mess.

  “Well?” Gladys’s tone radiated impatience.

  “I’ll think about it,” Emily said.

  “Very good.” Gladys walked across the street, slowly making her way over the uneven cobblestones in her sensible shoes that were probably “good for arthritis.”

  What would her mother say to all of this if she were here to weigh in on the subject?

  Emily didn’t have to wonder—she might not have spoken to her mother in eighteen years, but the letters had given her plenty of insight into the kind of person her mom was. Words on paper, frozen in time, gave her a clear snapshot of Isabelle Ackerman, and it was her influence that had turned Emily into the adventure seeker that she was. She lived the life she thought her mother would’ve wanted for her, the life her mother never got to live.

  She’d never paused to wonder what happened if that life suddenly stopped being one she wanted.

  To Gladys’s proposal, Isabelle would likely say, “Do it, Emily. You’ll be wonderful at it, and even if you aren’t, you’ll have a wild adventure introducing a
ll those kids to the theatre. I can’t think of anyone better to teach them—you’re so passionate about it.”

  Emily would argue that she wasn’t good with large groups, didn’t know the best way to entertain small children, and had too much to do to really give a show her all.

  “But what would make your heart happy?” her mother would ask.

  Then, sadly, Emily would retreat, because she couldn’t remember the last time her heart had been happy.

  And that wasn’t the kind of thing she could talk about out loud.

  For when you feel overwhelmed

  Dear Emily,

  It’s no secret I wasn’t prepared to be a mother at the age of eighteen. I actually wonder if anyone is ever prepared to be a mother, but I know for certain I was not ready. There was so much I didn’t know. There was so much to learn, and sadly, you didn’t come with an instruction booklet.

  I made a lot of mistakes. One day I was getting ready to leave the house, and as if by magic, your car seat fell off the counter with you strapped in it, landing you upside down (and screaming!) on the kitchen floor.

  To this day I have no idea how that happened, only that I never set your car seat on the counter again.

  Mistakes are a topic for another letter, but this letter is about that feeling of being overwhelmed—in over your head. We’re all there at some point, often daily, like I was in those early years. (Yes, years. Turns out children change as they grow, and there are new challenges like teething or walking or potty training. One day it’ll be dating and makeup and boys. I’ll probably make mistakes then too.)

  I’m always overwhelmed, it seems. But here’s what I know for sure: I’m also a lot more capable than I usually think I am. But I have to take each problem one by one. When I pile them all on top of my shoulders at once, that’s when I shut down. So whatever the most pressing problem is in that moment, that’s what I focus on. Once I’ve solved that, I move on to the next one. Obviously this doesn’t work with everything—you can’t achieve world peace in a day—but the things that affect your daily life, those are things you can take one at a time.

  I don’t always agree with your grandparents, but your grandpop always says, “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.”

  So the next time you feel overwhelmed, just break everything down piece by piece . . . and be sure to chew slowly so you give each one time to digest.

  Love,

  Mom

  CHAPTER 19

  JULY 1989

  Nearly three full days passed before Isabelle could escape long enough to find JD. After humiliating her and carting her off from the beach the night of the Fourth, her parents had grounded her and taken away all privileges for the rest of the summer.

  She’d pleaded with them to meet JD, to give him a chance, to take off their blinders and consider that maybe—just maybe—he was a good guy.

  “No ‘good guy’ would encourage our daughter to enter a relationship without telling us,” her mom had said.

  Now, with her mom at one of her ridiculous luncheons and her dad out on a fishing trip with a business associate who was only in for the day, Isabelle jumped on her bike and raced over to the club, hoping to find JD for a few minutes before she had to hurry back home.

  But when she arrived, he was nowhere to be found. Jeb sat at a picnic table outside, eating a hot dog and a bag of chips.

  “Isabelle?” He tossed a look over his shoulder as though talking to her could get him in trouble.

  “Is he here?”

  Jeb stood, moved toward her, and led her toward the staff entrance, away from any watchful eyes, as if her parents had spies all over the island.

  Which, to be honest, they probably did.

  “Didn’t he tell you?” Jeb kept his voice low.

  “Tell me what?”

  “He was fired two days ago,” Jeb said. “He’s probably at our house.”

  “Fired?” Isabelle wanted to cry. “Were my parents behind this?”

  Jeb shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Her parents were most definitely behind this. “Is he okay?”

  “He’d be better if he saw you, I think.”

  Isabelle glanced at her watch. How long would her mother be gone?

  She decided she didn’t care. She’d risk getting in more trouble if it meant seeing JD.

  “Thanks, Jeb,” she called out as she rushed back to her bike and then pedaled off toward JD’s rental cottage.

  She reached the small house, dropped the bike on the ground out front, and knocked on the door.

  After a few long seconds, the door opened and JD stood there, looking disheveled but as handsome as ever.

  At the sight of her, his eyes brightened. “What are you doing here?” He flung open the screen door and pulled her toward him, kissing her as if it might be the last time, as if he’d been imagining this exact moment for days.

  “I had to make sure you were okay,” she said.

  “But your parents . . . ?”

  “They don’t know I’m here.”

  His face fell. Maybe he’d thought—hoped—they’d changed their minds.

  She kissed him, inhaling him, realizing in that moment how much she’d missed him, how much she loved him.

  “They grounded me,” she said, pulling away. “They said I can’t see you anymore.”

  JD raked a hand through his hair. “Then you shouldn’t be here.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “You can’t mean that.”

  He pivoted away from her. “I don’t want to give them any more reasons to hate me, Bella. I want them to love me—to love us.”

  She shook her head. “They won’t. They never will.”

  He sat down on the couch and pulled her into his arms. Her heart filled with an unspeakable sadness.

  “It isn’t right,” she finally said.

  “But we knew it was like this,” he said. “We knew it couldn’t last forever.”

  She swiped a tear as it slid down her cheek. “But why not? Because you aren’t rich? That’s stupid. This isn’t 1810.”

  He inched back, forcing her gaze. “Look, Bella, I love you. More than anything. And if I can figure out a way for us to be together, I’m going to do it. I promise.”

  He wiped her tears with his thumbs, then brought his lips to hers, kissing her soft and slow, the way he often did. She savored the moment, silently praying this wouldn’t be the last time.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, the anger toward her parents increasing as she thought that she might lose him.

  “They can’t control me,” she said.

  “Maybe they can for a little while longer,” he said.

  “It’s not right.”

  He smiled sadly, pressing his forehead against hers.

  She kissed him again. And again. And again, each kiss growing more hurried, more intense.

  She didn’t know if it was a newfound rebellious streak, anger at her parents, or the fact that she really believed she loved JD more than she’d ever loved anyone before that led to what happened next.

  Isabelle pulled the sheets of JD’s bed up to her chin and hugged herself as he held her. He kissed her bare shoulders, and she closed her eyes, the memory of what had just happened still fresh in her mind.

  Guilt—but not regret—rushed through her. Had they simply been caught up in the moment? Had she been so overcome with her love for him that she failed to keep her wits about her? Or did she have something to prove to parents who were intent on treating her like she was still a child?

  She didn’t know the answer—she only knew that nothing could be undone.

  “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. “You seem upset.”

  She faced him, and in a flash, her guilt disappeared. She did love JD, no matter what her parents said. “I’m good, but I do have to go.” She kissed him again, then gathered her clothes, wishing she could stay with him for the rest of the night instead of going home to the Ackerman prison.r />
  He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her tenderly. “I love you, Bella.”

  She smiled. “I love you too.”

  She might not know when she’d see him again, but she knew that much was true.

  CHAPTER 20

  MONDAY MORNING, HOLLIS WOKE to the unmistakable sensation of Tilly licking his face. Nothing pulled him from sleep more quickly than her wet, slobbery kisses.

  He patted the top of her head and rubbed her ears until finally she was content he was awake enough to take her out.

  He pulled on yesterday’s T-shirt and followed the dog down the stairs and outside, aware that it was barely light out.

  “What are you doing up so early, Tilly?” Hollis grumbled, trailing her down toward the beach. He glanced over at Emily’s dark house and wondered if she’d figured out how to sleep indoors.

  Tilly took off toward the water. Hollis whistled for her, to no avail. It wasn’t like her not to listen—was there an animal down there?

  He reluctantly chased her down to the sand, and as he made his way through the grass, he saw Emily standing on the shore, staring out across the water as the sunrise barely peeked over the horizon.

  He knew he had only seconds before she noticed them, so he drank in each one. She stood on the edge of the water wearing white shorts, a long-sleeved, billowy white shirt, and no shoes, and she was the picture of beauty.

  Emily didn’t even know how beautiful she was. From what he gathered, she’d spent her life flitting from place to place, like a butterfly looking for a safe spot to land. She’d built a wall around herself, and while she was great at pushing everyone away, every time she bristled or closed herself off, it only made him want to know her more.

  Tilly reached Emily and nuzzled her hand with her nose. Emily knelt down and rubbed the dog’s ears, then looked up and found Hollis staring at her.

  Nothing was wrong between them, and yet they were connected by a taut line of tension he couldn’t quite figure out. She’d been so short with him after their boat trip, refusing his ride home, that he’d decided to give her space yesterday.