If for Any Reason

by Courtney Walsh

  There’s something wildly wonderful about this planet, and I want to see it all: to take grand adventures, learn about culture, and gain a whole new perspective on how big this world really is.

  It’s a dream worth having, don’t you think?

  Life should be lived to the fullest, to the utmost, to the overflowing brim, and every dream of your heart should be seized with unwavering excitement.

  That’s what I pray for you. Wild adventures. Crazy stories. Big dreams. When they grab on to your heart . . . follow them.

  You deserve a big, full life.

  Love,

  Mom

  Hollis met her eyes. “So you live this wild life for your mom?”

  “Yeah,” Emily said. “Well, no. I mean, I love it. I love traveling and seeing the world. I’ve had this big, grand life—I live out of suitcases and stay in hotels all over the world. Who wouldn’t want that life?”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “I’ve had it,” Hollis said. “It’s not what I want—not anymore.”

  She eyed him thoughtfully. “So what do you want?”

  He shrugged. “Something simple. Small town. Nice house. White picket fence. A couple of kids, maybe another dog. Summers in Nantucket. Family dinners and cookouts, coaching Little League and all kinds of kids running around . . . Don’t need much more than that.” He paused. “Probably sounds boring to you.” He popped a cracker topped with cheese in his mouth.

  “Actually, it sounds kind of perfect.”

  Their eyes met, and he scanned her face, reading through to what she wasn’t saying the way only he bothered to do. “Yeah?”

  She sighed. “Truthfully, I’ve grown a little weary of all the roaming around. But there are still so many countries left to see.”

  “Do you feel like you have to keep going?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “You read the letter.”

  “I did,” he said. “Did you?”

  She frowned. “Hollis, I have it memorized. It’s all I have left of her.”

  “Right, but she didn’t say you had to follow her dream. She said you had to follow yours.”

  Emily glanced down at the letter, its words racing through her mind.

  “That’s what I pray for you. Wild adventures. Crazy stories. Big dreams. When they grab on to your heart . . . follow them.”

  “She wanted this for me—a big life, full of adventure.”

  “But she didn’t say what constitutes a big, adventurous life. You get to decide that for yourself.”

  Emily shook her head. “No, she wanted me to travel, see the world.”

  “She wanted to travel and see the world. You can’t feel tied to a dream that was never yours to begin with.”

  “No, it was,” Emily said. “It is my dream.” A panic rose up inside her that she didn’t recognize. Why was she getting so worked up over this? Why did it matter?

  Her heart sputtered.

  Because if what Hollis was saying was true, she’d misinterpreted her mother’s words. And if she’d misinterpreted her mother’s words, that changed everything—every single thing in her life.

  She’d lived by the rules outlined in that book. She’d been so careful to turn into the woman her mother would’ve wanted her to be.

  Had she misunderstood everything?

  “Emily.” He reached across the blanket and took her hand. “It’s okay to want a simple life.”

  “No,” she said. “It’s not what I want.”

  “I’ve seen you, Em. Not just today, but at auditions, with that little girl . . .”

  She pulled her hand from his and hugged her knees to her chest. The little girl—Marta—had been one of five she’d talked off the ledge, and each time she made a connection, each time the child faced their fears, Emily had beamed with pride, as if she could take part in their victory.

  She hadn’t told a soul how any of that made her feel. How did Hollis know?

  “The way you rushed in, calmed her right down—the way you instantly connected with Jolie . . .” Hollis regarded her for a moment. “You’ve got a gift, Emily.”

  She waved him off, along with thoughts of Colin, thankful Hollis couldn’t add him to his arsenal of proof. “Your right arm is a gift. That was just—” What? What was it? Certainly not a gift.

  “You can downplay it all you want, Em, but not everyone can do what you did in there. I sure couldn’t.” He took his sandwich wrapper and balled it up, then put it back in the bag. “You have the right to your own dreams. Don’t you think that’s what your mom would want for you?”

  Was it? She didn’t know. For the first time ever, she doubted that she knew her mother’s wishes, wishes she’d originally thought had been crystal clear. She didn’t like it.

  But she couldn’t deny how much she’d loved running rehearsal today. She loved the thought of helping these kids tap into their creativity, of giving them a safe space to fail gloriously and without judgment, just as she’d been given that so many years ago. She’d already imagined their curtain call, the way that post-show adrenaline would kick in and bring with it so much unfiltered joy. She wanted that for each one of these kids.

  She’d even entertained the idea of next summer’s show, something she most definitely would not be involved with, but still there it was.

  And somehow it all made the failures in her past feel a lot farther away, almost like they didn’t matter so much anymore.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  Emily looked away. She couldn’t say. She couldn’t admit that there was a chance Hollis was right.

  Never mind that his words had spoken to the deepest part of her soul. His dream for simplicity—it stirred something inside her. He’d described a life she’d always coveted and never had. A life she never would have.

  And considering even for a moment that maybe, just maybe, she had a purpose on this planet—a purpose that amounted to more than flitting around from place to place with a bottomless trust fund to back her up . . . She couldn’t say what that did to her insides.

  What if she was made for more? Emily, the girl whose father didn’t want her? The girl who’d screwed up more times than she could count? The girl who wouldn’t let anyone get close to her because she had to protect her heart?

  Could that girl have something to offer?

  She desperately wanted to believe it, but if she did, she’d be setting herself up for a heartache greater than any she’d suffered before.

  She wasn’t the small-town, picket-fence kind of girl. She was consumed with wanderlust—it was who she’d always been, and a few words from a handsome baseball player wouldn’t change that.

  No matter how much she wished they could.

  “I should go.” Abrupt, yes, but she needed a clean getaway.

  He watched her as she packed up her garbage, sticking it all back in the bag. “Did I upset you?”

  Was it that obvious? She thought she was a better actor than that.

  “No, of course not,” she said. “I just remembered my grandma is here, and I probably need to face her sooner rather than later.”

  Liar. Liar. Liar.

  “Okay,” Hollis said. “So we’ll talk about sets tomorrow?”

  She grinned. “I’m not sure you’re ready for what I have planned.”

  He groaned, but she could tell he was joking. They started walking toward the path that led back to the houses.

  “Picture a giant tree with a slide coming out of it and a swing and all kinds of color.”

  He stopped walking and stared at her. “Is this a ploy to get me away from your home renovations?”

  She shrugged. “Is it working?”

  “Maybe,” Hollis said. “I’ve never built a tree before.”

  “It’ll be fun.”

  “With you involved, Emily,” he said, “I have no doubt.”

  And the compliment wormed its way past her outer layer and straight to her heart, leav
ing her (not for the first time since she’d arrived on the island) a little worried that where Hollis McGuire was concerned, a strong resolve was a thing of the past.

  CHAPTER 37

  THE DAYS WENT ON, and at some point, Hollis realized he wasn’t missing baseball as much as he used to. He worked in the scene shop during rehearsals, stealing glimpses of Emily while she stepped into a role she seemed born to play.

  They spent their days off on the beach with Jolie or working on the sets alongside a small crew of volunteers. Even Jack showed up once or twice to help.

  And Emily seemed to be warming up to his family, spending more nights around their dinner table than alone in that big, empty house.

  Hollis wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

  By the Fourth of July, Jack had made great progress on Emily’s house, all under Hollis’s watchful eye. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he still didn’t fully trust the man.

  The entire family, Emily included, spent the holiday moving from one event to the next. The parade, sack races on Children’s Beach, a lobster boil in the McGuires’ backyard followed up by fireworks—the kind that made Hollis wish he had the courage to tell Emily exactly how he felt.

  Nearly every night over the past few weeks, he’d found Emily sitting outside on the beach just after sunset. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they sat in silence. He didn’t really care what they did as long as he was with her. It had become something of a ritual—one he was starting to love.

  It had gotten to the point where he practically relied on this time to help him relax before going to sleep—or maybe he simply liked falling asleep with the memories of her laugh fresh in his mind.

  She asked questions about life in professional baseball and even dared to bring up the offers he’d gotten to become a commentator, a previously sore subject for him.

  Since the first time she mentioned it, he’d had a few conversations with the network, and while he hadn’t told Emily yet, he had an interview scheduled in a few weeks.

  Maybe there was more for him to do than just be a former professional ballplayer. Same way there was more for Emily to do than just be a former childhood star whose adult career didn’t work out the way she’d planned.

  He hadn’t realized that parallel between their two lives until now.

  Their conversations always made their way around to the show, too, something she loved to talk about, something he loved to listen to her talk about. She came alive with ideas and stories about the kids. And while her big imagination meant a lot of work for his sets team, he didn’t even care. He got to spend time with Jolie, spend time with Emily, and be a part of her realizing she was born to do exactly what she was doing right now.

  Sometimes he wondered if she saw it yet—and if not, how long would it take to sink into her stubborn head?

  Now, just a week before Alice would open, he awoke with a fresh to-do list. He and Emily were meeting that morning to look over a handful of last-minute set-building questions. He hurried to get ready and made his way across the lawn to her cottage.

  The front door was unlocked, so Hollis let himself in. Before he could call out to Emily, he heard a conversation happening somewhere in the house.

  He listened from the entryway for a few seconds, deciphering both Jack’s and Eliza’s tense voices coming from the living room.

  He should leave. Or announce his presence somehow. How many conversations was he going to eavesdrop on?

  But curiosity got the better of him. He’d have to repent for this later.

  “I’m sorry you don’t approve, but Emily hired me to do this job, and I’m going to see it through to the end,” Jack said.

  “Emily might think she’s in charge here, Jack, but we both know whose name is on the deed to this house,” Eliza fired back.

  “She said Alan wanted her to decide what to do with this place.” Jack spoke about Alan Ackerman as if he knew the man. There was a familiarity in the way he said his name.

  “What are you even doing here?” Eliza asked.

  “Alan wanted me to come, Eliza,” he said.

  “That’s a lie.”

  Hollis leaned in closer. He’d been suspicious of Jack from the start, but he’d only been thinking of the man’s intentions toward Emily. What kind of connection did Jack Walker have to her grandfather?

  Hollis leaned into the doorway until he caught sight of Jack, facing off against Eliza the way only the bravest of men would do. He had to give the guy credit for that.

  “We don’t have to be enemies,” Jack said.

  “Well, we certainly aren’t friends.”

  “But maybe we could be. Don’t you think she would’ve wanted it that way?” Jack reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out something that looked like a photograph folded in half.

  Eliza stiffened. “What’s this?”

  “Just look at it.”

  She glared at him. Whatever the relationship was between the two of them, it wasn’t a good one. Slowly Emily’s grandmother unfolded the photo. One look at it, and her face went pale. “Where did you get this?”

  He took the photo from her and stuck it back in his pocket. “I found it upstairs.”

  Was that what he was looking at the day Hollis caught him in there snooping around?

  “You had no right.”

  “Maybe not, but Emily does.” Jack stood his ground.

  “You can’t show this to her. Think about what that would do to her.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, Eliza, I have work to do.”

  Hollis felt his shoulders slump. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he had the gnawing feeling that Emily was about to have her heart broken all over again.

  Just when he’d started to sort of accept Jack might not be as bad a guy as he’d originally feared.

  Jack stormed out of the living room—thankfully not in his direction—leaving Eliza, dumbfounded, with a concerned expression on her face.

  The front door opened and Emily appeared, holding a box of Wicked Island Bakery donuts and four to-go cups of coffee.

  “Hollis?”

  He glanced over and saw Eliza’s eyes snap toward him. Caught.

  “Hey, Emily,” he said.

  “What are you doing?”

  He forced a smile. “Waiting for you.”

  Eliza moved to the entryway, looking none too pleased.

  “Good morning, Grandma,” Emily said.

  “Good morning,” Eliza said. Her face was pulled tight as she looked at Hollis. “Mr. McGuire. Apparently we no longer knock before entering someone else’s house.”

  Hollis’s gaze fell to the floor.

  “I got you coffee, Grandma.” Emily held up the tray of drinks. “Your name is on that one there.” She motioned with her head.

  “I already had my coffee,” her grandma said. “But thank you. Mr. McGuire, could I have a word with you in the kitchen please? Or what used to be the kitchen.”

  Emily regarded her grandmother for a long moment. “Why do you need to have a word with Hollis?”

  “Don’t be nosy, dear.” Eliza walked toward the kitchen, leaving Hollis standing there, under Emily’s watchful gaze.

  “What’s this about?” Emily whispered.

  “No idea,” Hollis said. “But I better go.”

  Emily widened her eyes. “I’ll take this stuff to Jack and come back to save you.”

  He smiled. He’d have a million conversations with Eliza Ackerman if it meant being saved by her granddaughter.

  Eliza stood at the sliding door, staring out across the backyard. She held her shoulders straight, arms crossed over her chest, and she didn’t turn to acknowledge him.

  “It’s not polite to listen in on other people’s conversations,” she said.

  “I’d just come in, Mrs. Ackerman.” Was it a lie? The conversation had been fast-paced, and he really had only been standing there for a minute.

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Not much—”


  “Jack threatening me?”

  “I don’t trust him, ma’am.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.” She turned to him now as if she’d found an ally, and a sickening feeling washed over him. “Of all the people Emily could’ve hired for this job,” she muttered.

  “How do you know him?” Hollis asked.

  She regarded him for a moment, then flicked her hand in the air as if deciding to keep her ally at arm’s length. “He used to hang around here years ago. He and Alan had a sort of altercation at the golf club one summer. Alan got him fired—but rightfully so. You don’t mouth off to members when you’re just a caddie.”

  “Seems like water under the bridge,” Hollis said, knowing by what he’d overheard that it absolutely was not. He wanted to ask about the photo. He wanted to ask why it would be upsetting to Emily and why Eliza didn’t want her to see it. But doing that would reveal just how much he had overheard.

  “Could you do me a favor and not mention any of this to Emily?” Eliza asked. “I’d like to discuss it with her myself.”

  “I think maybe Emily should know your concerns about the man she’s hired,” Hollis said. “Especially if she’s going to have to make a change.”

  “You let me worry about that. It’s a family matter, really.” Her smile looked forced, but she’d made her point—he wasn’t a part of the family. “And maybe, while you’re working around here, you can keep an eye on Mr. Walker?” Eliza’s penciled-in eyebrows elevated over her eyes. “If you see anything out of the ordinary, anything suspicious, you can let me know?”

  Why did it feel like he was conspiring with Eliza against Emily? Why did it all feel horribly wrong?

  “Hollis? You ready to talk sets?” Emily had entered the kitchen, and Hollis wondered if she’d eavesdropped the same way he had. Eliza was talking so quietly, he doubted Emily could’ve heard anything, but she would definitely ask him questions.

  What was he going to say? He couldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t.

  And yet, for some reason, he had a feeling he needed to find out for himself who Jack really was and what he was doing here before alerting Emily. No matter how many times Eliza told him to butt out, even she couldn’t stop him from asking his own questions if it meant making sure Emily wasn’t in any danger.