If for Any Reason (Nantucket Love Story #1) - Courtney Walsh Page 0,10

up with it, so I’m sure it’s in bad shape, but there’s money for repairs and renovations. Just go look at it and then decide. Please? It would mean so much to him.” She was still holding Emily’s hand, a rare intimate moment between them. “To me.”

What was Emily supposed to do? Truth be told, a ticket to a new life couldn’t have been more timely, what with her old life in a humiliating shambles.

Grandma knew Emily’s play had been a critical failure. She did not know Emily was broke, and it was important to keep it that way.

Emily tucked the key in her pocket and set her purse down next to her suitcase. She was here, and that was enough. She couldn’t go inside—not yet.

She walked around to the back of the house, taking in the landscape. As she came around the side of the house, the view stopped her. She’d seen the ocean from the ferry, and yet seeing it here—that same view, that same dock, that same beach—it was different. It held her captive as the seconds ticked by.

She inhaled the salt air and took her shoes off, walking around the empty, dirty pool, the patio, the screened-in porch, and straight to the place she’d always called hers.

The red- and white-striped beach hut was long gone, but if she closed her eyes, she could remember every detail of the tent GrandPop had set up for her on the shore. How many hours had she spent in that very spot, running to the water and back, building sand castles, hunting for starfish and seashells?

She reached the sand and felt the heat as it radiated through her feet. The wind kicked up, blowing her hair in front of her face. She pulled it back, securing it in a loose side ponytail with the elastic she always wore around her wrist.

She stood still for several seconds, staring out at the sea, wondering what Mom would say about Emily being back after all this time. She’d stayed away because it was too painful to relive any of the memories but also because it brought up too many questions.

What were her grandparents and her mother arguing about that was so bad her mom had to leave in the middle of the night? Nobody had ever answered that question, and not because she hadn’t asked.

Then there was the knowledge that her mother had met her father right here on Nantucket, so there was always the chance when meeting Bob the grocer or Sid the landscaper that she was actually meeting a man whose DNA she shared.

“Hey, Bob, thanks for bagging my groceries, and by the way, I think I have your eyes.”

Emily shook the thoughts away. It didn’t matter who her father was. It didn’t matter if he was here on this island. Why should she waste a single second thinking about a man who’d never wanted her in the first place? He’d made his choice long ago, and there was no place in his life for a daughter. She wouldn’t romanticize the idea now.

A dog barking in the distance pulled her attention down the beach a few yards to her right. The waves lapped the shore and a black Lab raced out of the brush toward the ocean, followed by a young girl wearing a cute red tankini with white polka dots.

The girl was probably about eleven, maybe twelve, about the same age Emily had been her last summer on the island. She remembered how it felt to be on the cusp of the next stage of life. She’d been so excited at the thought of becoming a teenager, and her mom must’ve known it. Why else would she write about it in the book?

On the day you turn thirteen

Dear Emily,

While it’s hard for me to believe it now, there will come a day when you’re going to feel more grown-up than you are. I call this age “the in-between.” I hope you don’t rush through it too quickly. When you’re thirteen, you’re a teenager, so you’ll feel like you should be treated like an adult, but I guess as someone who had to grow up really quickly, what I pray for you is that you can enjoy being young as long as possible.

It’s okay if you still like dancing in the ocean under the stars. It’s okay if you sing yourself to sleep or tell yourself stories to keep from feeling lonely. It’s even okay to talk to your imaginary friend.