If for Any Reason

by Courtney Walsh

  Like kiss him. Like cross right over the line of friendship and straight into the black hole of unidentified relationships.

  Her eyes scanned his face, lingering on soft, full lips, noticing a slight scar just above his mouth on the right side.

  She reached over and touched it. “What happened there?”

  “Got hit in the face with a line drive,” he said, not shrinking from her touch.

  “Ouch,” she said.

  “Four stitches. Missed two games because of that.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen.”

  The summer after she left the island. She used to love cheering for his Little League team. The whole family, Emily and her mom included, would pile onto the bleachers and do their very best to embarrass Hollis.

  How many games had he played without her in the stands?

  She’d missed out on so much of him, and standing there now, only a foot separating their bodies, she realized she didn’t want to miss out on another single minute of his life.

  But as soon as the thought entered her mind, she pulled her hand back and turned away. This was the exact way hearts were injured. Fantasy had never gotten anyone anywhere. And just because Hollis felt protective of her, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her.

  “I should head to bed,” she said. “Long day tomorrow.”

  “Right.” Hollis clapped his hands together and pulled his baseball hat down a little tighter on his head. “I’ll see you bright and early. I think they’re laying the flagstone tomorrow. Thought I’d see if I could help.”

  She smiled. Jack almost never let Hollis help anymore because Emily told him not to. She wasn’t going to let Hollis do the work without getting paid—and she knew he’d never accept payment. Plus, he needed to spend his days with Jolie. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Night, Emily.” He brushed past her, and she instinctively turned toward him on his way out the door, leaving her alone as the words I can do hard things floated through her subconscious, as if somehow her brain knew putting thoughts of Hollis out of her mind was going to be a challenge.

  And unfortunately, she wasn’t sure she was up for it.

  CHAPTER 33

  EMILY SET HER ALARM EARLY, wanting to be downstairs before her grandma and Jack and his crew.

  But the night didn’t go as planned. She’d lain in bed thinking about Hollis and his catastrophically kissable lips for far longer than she wanted to admit and sleep hadn’t met her until somewhere around 2 a.m.

  It wasn’t only Hollis that kept her awake. It was knowing her grandmother was there. It was suddenly doubting every decision she’d made from paint colors to tiles to knocking out the kitchen wall. It was feeling like a liar for not being straight with her about the play and her money.

  And it was the lips.

  As a result, she slept right through her alarm and now found herself rushing to shower, dress, and get downstairs to make coffee before Grandma woke up.

  But as soon as she exited the bathroom, she saw Grandma’s bedroom door was open, the paint swatches Jack had taped to the wall gone.

  She reached the end of the stairway just as Jack’s pickup truck pulled into the driveway. How was she going to get her grandmother out of their hair for the day?

  She stifled a groan. What if her grandmother stayed the rest of the summer?

  “Grandma?”

  She walked through the house, the smell of coffee tattling on her grandmother’s presence but doing nothing to lead Emily to her.

  “Grandma?” She stood in the center of the empty kitchen, silently praying Jack could pick up the pace and put the house back together even more quickly now that Eliza Ackerman had descended upon them.

  “Why are you shouting?” Grandma’s voice came from outside.

  Emily walked out to the still-torn-up patio and found her grandmother sitting in one of the chairs, holding a newspaper and a cup of coffee.

  “Sorry,” Emily said. “I didn’t know where you were.” Emily took a seat next to her.

  “There’s coffee,” Grandma said, then added dryly, “In the living room.”

  Emily heard the words as they were intended—a dig. “I know it looks like a mess right now, but trust me, it’s going to look amazing when we’re all done.”

  Grandma raised a brow but didn’t respond.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” Emily said. “You didn’t mention it the other day.”

  “I thought I’d surprise you.” The older woman stared out across the backyard, which also looked like a bit of a disaster now that Emily considered it.

  “Things are busy here,” Emily said. “I’ve been helping with the house and—”

  “Spending time with that McGuire boy,” Grandma cut in.

  “I was going to say working down at the arts center,” Emily said, ignoring her grandmother’s condescending tone.

  Grandma looked at her. “The arts center?”

  Emily nodded. “I’m directing the children’s production.”

  Grandma’s eyebrows rainbowed over surprised eyes. “You’re directing it?”

  Emily thought she heard pride in her grandma’s voice. Was it possible she was finally making a decision the older woman approved of?

  “How did that happen?” Grandma asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Emily said.

  “Do you have somewhere to be?”

  “No . . . well, yes, actually. The first rehearsal is today.”

  “Emily!” Jolie’s sweet voice preceded her sweet face into the backyard. She came around the side of the house carrying a Nantucket Bake Shop box, Tilly close on her heels. “Emily! I can’t wait for rehearsal! I’ve got the best song in the whole show.”

  Emily stole a peek at her grandmother. The woman wore a familiar what-is-the-meaning-of-this? expression.

  Jolie stopped chattering as soon as she saw Emily wasn’t alone. “Oh, sorry.” She handed over the box. “These are from GrandNan. Or Dad. I’m not sure who.”

  Hollis had probably gotten up at dawn, gone to the bakery, and sent his daughter back with breakfast for her now that he knew she was practically a pauper. It was so thoughtful. It was so Hollis.

  It was friendly. That’s what it was. That’s what he was. A friend.

  Focus.

  “Jolie, this is my grandma. Grandma, this is Hollis’s daughter, Jolie.”

  Jolie stuck her hand out in Grandma’s direction, and the older woman shook it pointedly. “I didn’t know Hollis was married.”

  “Oh, he’s not,” Jolie said. “My mom’s on her honeymoon with a doctor named Rick. They’re in Hawaii. That’s why I’m here with my dad.”

  “I see,” Grandma said.

  “JoJo, why don’t you take these donuts inside and see if any of the guys are hungry?”

  “Don’t you want one?” she asked.

  Emily peeked inside the box, the smell of fried dough wafting to her nostrils and making her mouth water. “Does this long john have filling?”

  Jolie nodded.

  “Save me that one.”

  “You got it.” The girl ran inside.

  “I’m betting that Hollis McGuire is full of secrets,” Grandma said.

  “Jolie isn’t really a secret, Grandma,” Emily said.

  “Is he divorced?”

  Emily’s stomach twisted itself into a tight knot. She did not want to debate Hollis’s morals with this woman. She knew where it would lead. Grandma seemed not to have grace for people’s mistakes, something Emily had always struggled with. And to be honest, she didn’t feel like defending Hollis today. She shouldn’t have to.

  If Jolie was a mistake, then so was Emily. Was that how her grandma felt about her after all this time?

  “He’s had an amazing life,” Emily said.

  “I know all about his baseball career,” Grandma said. “Your grandfather became quite a fan.”

  “Me too,” Emily said. “He was an incredible athlete.”

 
; “Indeed.”

  “He’s a good man, Grandma.”

  Grandma sipped her coffee. “Are you two . . . ?”

  “We’re friends.” Emily filled in the blank of her grandmother’s question. “He’s been really good to me since I got back.”

  “Fine.”

  Emily hated that word. Fine. Her mother had hated it too.

  My mother loves to end conversations with one dreaded word: “Fine.” It’s her way of expressing her disapproval without coming right out and saying what she’s thinking. Her way of getting the last word in without saying anything about what she actually thinks. I promise you I’ll never “Fine” you. And don’t you “Fine” me either. We’re going to finish our conversations, you and I. Got it, kid?

  “Do you want me to tell you the plans for the house?”

  “Can you start with the color you’ve picked for my bedroom?”

  “It’s sort of a dusty-blue color,” Emily said.

  “It’s gray.”

  “But it’s neutral, and whoever buys the house will likely want something neutral.”

  Grandma’s lips pulled into a taut line. “So you’re selling it, then?”

  Emily squirmed. She needed caffeine. Or a sedative. One of the two. “Yes, I think that’s the most practical thing, don’t you?”

  Grandma’s shrug was barely noticeable. “I want to honor your grandfather’s wishes.”

  Emily inhaled. Prayed she stayed calm. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “He wanted you to decide what happened to the cottage, so I’m going to stay out of it.” Grandma almost looked pained saying it.

  “Really?”

  “Though I don’t know why you had to knock the whole wall out.”

  Ah. Grandma’s version of “staying out of it” meant interjecting her opinion in swift barbs that would make Emily question every one of her decisions.

  “Would you like to join me at the arts center?”

  Grandma bristled. “No, I’ve arranged to spend my days volunteering at the hospital and catching up with old friends.”

  Emily tried not to let her relief show. Knowing that Grandma wouldn’t be hanging around the house all day every day was something of a blessing.

  Just then the sliding-glass door opened again, and Emily turned, expecting JoJo, but instead found Jack standing there, carrying a clipboard. “Morning.”

  Grandma turned in the direction of his voice, then froze the second she set eyes on Emily’s contractor.

  “Grandma, this is Jack Walker. He’s the man with the plan.” Emily stood and smiled at Jack, whose smile had faded. He was probably worried Grandma was going to get involved and make him start all over, and rightfully so. Emily was worried about that herself.

  Grandma set her mug on the table and stood, her face puckered in familiar disapproval, mixed with a drop of something Emily couldn’t pinpoint.

  “Actually,” Jack said, “we’ve met.”

  Emily glanced at her grandmother. “Oh, really? Did you know each other years ago?”

  “Something like that,” Jack said, eyes holding steady on her grandmother.

  “I’m sorry,” Grandma said. “I’m having trouble placing you.”

  It was standard you-aren’t-important-enough-for-me-to-remember talk for her grandmother, and Emily did her best not to roll her eyes.

  “Oh, wait. You worked at the country club,” Grandma said. “Am I right? You were one of Alan’s caddies.” Her glower faded into a brusque and short-lived smile.

  Jack watched Grandma, and for a long moment, it was as if the two were communicating via telepathy. Emily’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, but the moment was interrupted by the sound of someone in the yard behind them.

  She turned and saw Hollis, looking especially gorgeous in the early morning light. How could a man make cargo shorts and a T-shirt look so good? Was it the ball cap? The aviators? The biceps?

  Definitely the biceps.

  “Morning,” he said. “I’ve got a load of flagstone and I’m ready to build a patio. Hayes is on his way over to help me.”

  The tension in the air hung like a thick rain cloud, about to burst.

  “Well, I’m meeting a friend in town to do some shopping,” Grandma finally said, breaking herself away from her pointed stare.

  “Yep,” Jack said. “And I’ve got to get going on the kitchen.”

  Grandma brushed past Jack, and the man waited a pregnant pause before heading in after her.

  Emily looked at Hollis.

  He frowned. “What was that about?”

  She looked back at the spaces the two had vacated. “I have no idea.”

  CHAPTER 34

  THE USUAL LITANY OF NEGATIVE SELF-TALK raced through Emily’s mind as she stood in the office at the arts center just half an hour before rehearsal was scheduled to begin.

  You’re going to make a fool of yourself.

  You don’t really know what you’re doing.

  You’re never going to connect with these kids.

  She’d begged the voice in her head to shut up the entire ride over that morning, but so far it wasn’t listening.

  She needed to stay busy. Get focused. Take control of her thoughts.

  She left the office and found Marisol and some of the other team leaders in the auditorium. They’d already figured out their plan for the day, decided which room would be for costume fittings, which would be for music, which would be for dance, and which would be for blocking. They were ready.

  She was ready.

  They were about to welcome a new generation of kids to their first-ever Ackerman Arts Center children’s theatre production.

  The thought made Emily squeamish and excited at the same time.

  Marisol, perky like a cheerleader with the kind of personality that had no problem making a fool of herself, welcomed the kids with high fives and smiles. Emily used to have that same personality—life of the party—but that was before she screwed everything up.

  Now she felt unable to do anything.

  Nan caught her eye from across the room. She gave her a thumbs-up with a questioning look, as if to ask if she was okay.

  Emily nodded, though her stomach turned.

  Nan made her way through the growing crowd of chatty children and stood next to Emily. “Overwhelmed?”

  “Terrified.”

  She put an arm around Emily’s shoulders. “You’ve got this, kiddo. Believe me, you’ve got this.”

  “You sound so sure,” Emily said.

  Nan smiled, her whole face radiating motherhood. “I saw you at auditions. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Emily gave her one firm nod, then moved down to the front of the stage.

  Kids had filled the auditorium seats, giggling and talking and being kids. She looked over to the house-right side and saw Jolie sitting on the end of a row next to Shae Daniels’s daughter, Alyssa. Already they looked like fast friends.

  Jolie lifted her hand to wave at Emily, who gave her a wink and a smile.

  “You ready for this, boss?” Marisol asked, joining her on the stage.

  “Ready or not,” Emily said.

  She lifted her hands and clapped four times, then motioned for the kids to echo. They caught on immediately. She responded with another series of claps, this time a quicker rhythm. They repeated what she’d done and she did one more, finishing with a long “Shhhh.”

  The kids followed suit and—surprisingly—quieted down.

  She had their undivided attention—now what?

  She smiled. “Congratulations to everyone in this room! You made it into the cast of Alice in Wonderland!”

  A series of loud cheers rang out.

  Emily started by laying down the ground rules, explaining her expectations, and casting the vision for the show. Next, she introduced everyone in the cast by the role they would play, happy to hear the cheers of support for the kids in the lead roles. She knew she’d likely have some sour grap
es to contend with (every show had them) but overall, these kids seemed like they were here to have fun.

  They spent the morning doing a read-through of the script. They listened to the songs and explained what each group was doing and when. Halfway through, they stopped and played an icebreaker game, and then Emily split all the kids up into pairs—one older with one younger.

  “Everyone gets a ‘big’ or a ‘little,’” she said. “And this is your buddy for the whole show. You can send each other notes of encouragement, ask each other questions if you’re unsure about something, and basically just watch out for each other. If you’re a big, we’re expecting you to act like a good role model for your little and all the other littles. This is important—you have to remember, someone is always looking up to you.”

  She found Jolie’s eyes squarely focused on her.

  Someone is always looking up to you.

  She’d be smart to remember that herself. These ideas had come pouring out of her in their planning meetings, but even she wasn’t sure where they’d come from. This hadn’t been modeled for her, but every time she thought about standing up in front of a group of kids, of leading them, it became increasingly more important that she didn’t muck it up.

  By lunchtime, Emily expected to feel exhausted, but she was surprisingly energized.

  “That was so fun,” Marisol said, cracking open a lunch box. She took out a sandwich and bit into it.

  “Is that peanut butter and jelly?”

  Marisol grinned. “Jealous?”

  Emily laughed. “Someday that white bread will catch up to you.” Emily pulled her salad from her bag and opened the container. Her eyes scanned the room and fell on a little boy, about nine, who was sitting off to the side by himself, quietly eating his lunch. The boy looked around, wide-eyed panic on his face.

  “Which one is that?” Emily asked. “Colin?”

  Marisol followed her gaze to the dark-headed, pale-skinned boy. “Aww. Yes, that’s Colin.”

  As far as she could tell, he was the only one sitting alone. Emily took her salad and walked over to the boy. “Hey, Colin. Can I sit by you?”