If for Any Reason

by Courtney Walsh

  “Something like that.”

  Marisol shrugged, then turned her attention back to the papers in her hand. “I made copies of the newspaper like you asked,” Marisol said. “Let me know if you need anything else. I’m headed back to the costume shop—they had a question about the Mad Hatter’s costume.”

  “Thanks, Marisol,” Emily said.

  Hollis turned toward her. “What’s that?”

  “The newspaper from the week my mom died,” Emily said. “As much as a part of me doesn’t want to know any of this, I feel like it might be time. I’ve put it off long enough. If I’m going to confront my grandmother, I need some evidence to back me up.”

  “Evidence of what?”

  “Her lies.” Emily glanced at the stack of papers in her hand. Here goes nothing.

  The color copies were surprisingly clear. Emily skipped over the obituary, flipping through the typical boring local news articles until she found one on the front page from August 4. Her mother’s funeral had been held in Boston, where the family plot was located, but it looked like someone from the Nantucket newspaper had made the trip. There were photos of the mourners at the cemetery, along with a brief write-up about the event, as if it were a high society function.

  Emily’s stomach turned as she spotted her eleven-year-old self in one of the close-up shots. “Someone took pictures at my mother’s funeral?”

  Hollis looked over her shoulder. “Kind of tacky if you ask me.”

  “Very tacky,” Emily agreed. She scanned the photo, the familiar faces of her grandparents, old friends, people from a life that felt so far away now.

  “I’m sorry we weren’t there,” Hollis said. “We should’ve been. My dad was just starting a new job, and he couldn’t ask for any time off.”

  “Don’t give that a second thought.”

  “I wanted to be there, Emily,” he said. “I tried to make sure you were okay.”

  “Kind of hard for a kid to do that on his own,” she said, letting him off the hook. No sense in him beating himself up over something that was not only out of his control but also nearly two decades old.

  Her eyes returned to the photo. She scanned the mourners one more time when a familiar form caught her attention. Back by the trees, behind the family and friends standing in rows beside the grave was a man, alone.

  “Hollis?” Emily said, pointing. “That’s Jack.”

  Hollis leaned in closer to see. “How can you tell?”

  “He still stands like that,” Emily said. “When he’s supervising his crew. He sort of hunches over. But also look at his face. He’s younger, but that’s definitely Jack.”

  Hollis looked over the photo again but said nothing.

  “Why was Jack Walker at my mom’s funeral?” Emily said. “And why was he standing off to the back by himself? It’s weird, right?”

  Hollis stared at her for a few seconds, a blank look on his face. “I guess you could ask him?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I will.”

  CHAPTER 41

  AFTER HIS CONVERSATION WITH EMILY, Hollis made his way to the lobby of the arts center, where he paced back and forth, waiting for her to gather her things so they could go to her house and confront Jack Walker.

  But Hollis already knew what the man would say. And he had a feeling he knew how Emily would respond. And he wasn’t sure of his place in any of it.

  It was too much to hope for, that they would be able to spend time together, just the two of them, without all of this getting in the way.

  Not to mention he had a daughter to talk to. He’d broken his promise to Jolie, something he’d sworn he wouldn’t do. And as much as it would hurt, he knew that if Jolie felt the same way she did about him and Emily at the beginning of the summer, he’d let Emily go. It would be the hardest thing in the world, but he’d do it.

  Please don’t let it come to that, God.

  Emily walked out of the auditorium toward him, somehow making paint-splattered look adorable, but he could see a tight line of worry across her forehead. She wouldn’t rest until she put the pieces of this puzzle together. And while he didn’t have all the answers, he did have one—and it was a big one.

  Shouldn’t he tell her what he knew?

  He remembered his conversation with Jack. He’d promised the man, father to father, he’d let him tell her himself. It wasn’t Hollis’s place. No matter how much he wanted it to be. But it had been two days, and Jack still hadn’t said anything.

  “Hey, why don’t you go find Jolie?” Emily said. “And I’ll go find Jack.”

  Hollis paused. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

  She hitched her backpack onto her shoulder. “I think I should do this on my own, but I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”

  He nodded.

  “Go convince your daughter that you and I could be really, really good for each other.”

  He smiled. “Is that what you think?”

  She shrugged, looking uncharacteristically shy for a split second. “Is that what you think?”

  “No, Em, that’s what I know,” he said. “There’s not a single doubt in my mind.”

  Her mouth twisted as she attempted—and failed—not to smile.

  “Look,” he said. “I know you’re scared, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She looked at him, her eyes full and wide. “You promise, Hollis?”

  He touched her face. “I promise.”

  “Because I don’t think I could handle it,” she said. “Not after letting myself imagine that small-town, white-picket-fence life you talked about.”

  “Oh yeah?” He grinned. “I didn’t think you were a picket-fence kind of girl.”

  “Surprise.” She smiled back at him. “Call me after you talk to JoJo.”

  “Call me after you talk to Jack.”

  She nodded.

  He looked around to make sure they were alone, then leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, her eyes were still closed. “I’ll see you later.”

  She opened her eyes, pressed her lips together, and nodded again.

  As he watched her walk away, he said a silent prayer for her, that God would protect her heart no matter what secrets she uncovered. Then he said another prayer that his daughter would be more open-minded than she was at first.

  When he reached the house, he found his mom sitting on the back deck, Tilly at her feet.

  “Where’s JoJo?” he asked.

  “Down by the water with Harper,” his mom said. She looked over her magazine at Hollis. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Was it obvious? How was it possible to feel complete joy and complete fear at the same time?

  “I just need to talk to her,” Hollis said.

  Nan straightened. “Is everything okay? Are Jana and Rick okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Hollis said. “They’re coming here for the show. I just got a text from Jana this morning.”

  His mom put her magazine down. “But that’s not why you have those frown lines on your face.”

  He sat down on the love seat across from her. “No.”

  “So what is it?”

  “Emily,” he said simply.

  “What’s wrong with Emily?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with her,” Hollis said, staring out across the yard to the ocean. “I’m in love with her.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Nan returned to her magazine.

  “Is that all?” Hollis shot his mom a look.

  “Everyone else has known this for weeks, Hollis,” she said, not looking up. “I’m just glad you’ve finally figured it out for yourself. We were about to stage an intervention.”

  Hollis sighed. “What do I do about it?”

  His mom’s forehead creased in surprise. “You don’t know this by now?”

  “I mean because of Jolie.”

  “Jolie loves Emily.”

  “But she made me promise I wouldn’t. She said if I dated Emil
y, I’d ruin it for her.”

  Nan half laughed. “She’s twelve, honey.”

  “And?”

  “A twelve-year-old doesn’t get to decide these things for her father. What if God put you and Emily together?”

  “I think he might’ve.” Hollis spotted Jolie walking toward them through the sea grass. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”

  His mom smiled. “It’s what we’ve been praying for you, Hollis.”

  “But I owe Jolie, Mom,” Hollis said. “And if she’s still against it, that means something.”

  “Give her a chance to get her head around it,” Nan said. “Maybe it’s less important to her now.”

  Jolie raced toward them, Harper close behind.

  “Your girl is killing it out there on the paddleboard,” Harper said as she followed JoJo up the stairs.

  “She had an awesome teacher.” Hollis tried to sound lighthearted in spite of the tight ball of dread turning over in his stomach.

  “How was rehearsal this morning?” Hollis asked, handing Jolie a towel.

  Jolie grinned. “Like you don’t know. I saw you in the wings watching.”

  “I’m just proud of ya, kiddo.”

  “Kiddo.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s such a babyish thing to call me, Dad.”

  His eyes darted to his mom, who watched him with a little too much interest. “Harper, help me with dinner.”

  Harper mock-saluted their mother. “Aye, aye. Your grandma is a slave driver, JoJo,” she said. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  Jolie plopped down in Nan’s vacated seat and picked up her phone.

  “Jolie,” Hollis said. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  She didn’t move, but her eyes popped up to his. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “At least I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  She set her phone down on the table and wrapped the towel around herself more tightly. “Is this about Rick? Are you going to let him adopt me?”

  Hollis’s fingers turned cold. “What? No. Why? Is that what you want?”

  JoJo looked away.

  Oh no. Was that what she wanted?

  “Jolie?”

  She shook her head.

  “No?”

  She found his eyes again. “No.”

  “Okay, good.”

  She smiled that crooked smile at him.

  His heart leapt. No. Jolie didn’t want Rick to adopt her. She wanted Hollis. Would she still after what he was about to tell her?

  Suddenly it seemed like terrible timing, but not telling her meant sneaking around or not seeing Emily, and he didn’t like either of those options.

  “So what did you want to talk about?” she asked, picking her phone back up.

  “Well, do you remember at the beginning of summer when you first met Emily?”

  “Sure,” Jolie said. “I loved that day.”

  “Me too,” Hollis said, trying to keep his smile in check. No sense getting all dopey.

  “Dad, is this about you and Emily?” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

  He wanted to look away, but he didn’t. “It is.”

  “You love her, huh?”

  Hollis sputtered. “What?”

  “I heard Uncle Hayes and Aunt Harper talking about it. Uncle Hayes said, ‘He’ll never do anything about it,’ and Aunt Harper said, ‘If he loves her as much as I think he does, he will.’ And I said, ‘Why?’ and Aunt Harper said, ‘Because when you love someone as much as your dad loves Emily, you can’t keep it inside. If you do, you’ll explode.’ Or implode. I think she said ‘implode.’ Is that a word?”

  So they’d all been talking about his feelings for Emily. He didn’t know whether to be irritated or thankful because it seemed his siblings had unknowingly broken the ice for him with Jolie.

  Hollis sighed.

  “It’s okay if you love her, Dad,” Jolie said.

  He found her eyes. “It is?”

  “Yeah. I think she loves you too.”

  “Did Harper tell you that?”

  Jolie shook her head. “No, I told myself that.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Sometimes I see her looking at you,” Jolie said. “And the way you guys are always out on the beach at night.”

  “You know about that?”

  “I’m almost a teenager, Dad,” she said incredulously. “I’m not stupid.”

  He laughed softly. “Oh, I know you’re not.”

  “Good, because if I’m going to live with you in the summers, it’s important that we make that really clear. I don’t want you thinking I’m a little kid anymore. No more of this ‘kiddo’ stuff.”

  He watched her as she tapped around on her phone for a long moment. Finally she glanced up at him and smiled.

  “You’re going to live with me in the summers?”

  Her eyes darted back to her phone. “If you’ll let me?”

  He heard the question in her voice, and he wanted to figure out the very best way to reassure her that this was exactly what he’d wanted all along.

  “Jolie,” he said, “that would make me the happiest guy in the world.”

  “Good. It would’ve been embarrassing if you said no.”

  He laughed. “So you’re really okay about Emily?”

  “I guess,” Jolie said. “I mean, Aunt Harper said I really shouldn’t be selfish about this and that it had been a long time since you’ve been happy and don’t I want you to be happy? I told her of course I want you to be happy, and she said, ‘Emily makes him happy, JoJo.’ And she does, huh?”

  “She really does.”

  “Fine,” she said. “But don’t screw it up.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  She nodded. “Good. I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.” He got to his feet. “Let’s go see what GrandNan has for us tonight.”

  “Lobster rolls, I think.” She stood.

  “You hope.” He gave one of her braids a soft tug. “And, Jolie?”

  She looked at him.

  “I love you.”

  Emily’s heart raced as she made her way up the driveway toward the house. She’d planned to confront her grandmother with what she’d found in the newspaper—proof that her mother’s accident had happened on Cliff Road—but that didn’t seem important anymore, not with a photo that put Jack Walker at her mother’s funeral.

  In Boston.

  Hadn’t he only known of her mother? Did he leave the island to go to a funeral in Boston for an acquaintance? That didn’t make sense.

  Emily passed Marcus on her way to the front porch. “Hey, do you know where Jack is?”

  “You didn’t hear?” Marcus asked.

  “Hear what?”

  “Your grandma fired him, Emily,” Marcus said. “He’s gone.”

  “What? She can’t do that,” Emily said, knowing full well that she absolutely could. Eliza Ackerman could take control of this project anytime she wanted to. The fact that she hadn’t done so before now was the real surprise.

  “Said she hired a new guy and he’d be here tomorrow.”

  Emily’s heart lurched. “You can’t be serious.”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “So he’s just gone?”

  “Went home about an hour ago,” Marcus said. “We weren’t sure if we should keep working.”

  “Yes,” Emily said. “Keep working. I’m going to go get Jack.”

  “What about your grandmother?”

  Emily groaned. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out. And no matter what, I’ll make sure your entire crew is paid for today.”

  “And we should come back tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Emily said resolutely. “For sure.”

  Marcus nodded. “You’re good people, Emily.”

  “I try.” She smiled despite her frustration. “Do you know Jack’s address?”

  “No, but he’s out on Cliff Road, near the bike path, I think,” Marcus said
.

  “Cliff Road?” Emily’s heart fell.

  “Said the place had sentimental value.” Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. The guy’s always talking about the old days. I can find the address and text it to you. I was out there not long ago.”

  “Cliff Road.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She hoped that was true. “Text me the address. That would be helpful.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Biking to Cliff Road would take too long, but she didn’t have her own car. She looked at her grandmother’s Lexus in the driveway. She raced inside, found the key fob in a small dish on the entryway table, and took it without a word.

  “Grandma, you owe me this much,” she said under her breath.

  The drive to Cliff Road filled her with anxiety. She told herself there were a lot of houses in that area. She told herself there could’ve been countless explanations for all the coincidences she’d uncovered. She told herself that Jack Walker was nothing more than a contractor who’d known her mom once upon a time.

  But she didn’t believe a single word she told herself.

  She glanced at Marcus’s text and found the address where Jack Walker was staying. How long had it been since he was on the island?

  The image of his photo—sullen at her mother’s graveside service—floated through her mind.

  If she hadn’t been driving, she would’ve closed her eyes, feeling every bit of the magnitude of the situation, the summer, the questions. But the worst part was feeling like nobody was being honest with her. Nobody was being genuine.

  Nobody smiled with their eyes.

  Mom had taught her to value honesty above just about everything else, and nobody in her life seemed to feel the same way. Not her grandma, not Jack . . . She stopped. But that wasn’t true, was it? Because she had Hollis.

  Hollis was genuine and honest and good. And in spite of all this, when she thought about him, she smiled.

  Her GPS told her that her destination was on the left, but she didn’t slow down fast enough, so she drove right past it. Maybe that was a sign she should keep driving?

  No. She wanted to learn—no matter what it was—everything she didn’t know about the night her mother died.

  And the only way to find out was to start asking hard questions.