Change of Heart

by Courtney Walsh

  She would’ve much preferred for that “scandal” to be the only one in the newspapers, given what she now faced.

  Besides, maybe she was crazy. Crazy for believing a single thing he’d told her since she’d first met him fifteen years ago, since she’d married him ten years ago. Was any of it true?

  Just yesterday morning, the community had viewed her as a happily married woman with a beautiful home and a bright future. Even after hearing of the embezzlement, she’d clung to her perception of Christopher, desperately clutching the idea that these accusations were fabricated.

  But now even her heart told her otherwise.

  Those pictures hadn’t been photoshopped. Her own memory hadn’t misrepresented the Christmas party. Her husband had been cheating and lying and most likely stealing—for years.

  Evelyn’s mind quieted, her pulse returned to normal, and she lay on the floor, face pressed to the cool travertine tile.

  Her entire life had been a lie. A lie that had her stomach in knots most days. She’d endured the spotlight, the public appearances, the social events because that was what Christopher wanted. What he said he needed. He didn’t care that she was painfully shy—the worst kind of introvert. He’d never once asked what she wanted or what she dreamed of.

  Worse, she wasn’t sure she even knew the answer anymore.

  After lying on the floor for too long, Evelyn finally pulled herself up and went upstairs. She needed a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Most of all, she needed to get out of this house. It was filled with Christopher’s fiction and follies. The lies crawled out of the woodwork, and she knew they would continue to torment her if she didn’t leave.

  Maybe if she left early enough, the reporters wouldn’t be prepared.

  Mind spinning again, trying to land on her next move, Evelyn rushed to get ready and packed an overnight bag with clothing and shoes that might be appropriate for meeting with the authorities at some point.

  Of all the women she’d interacted with at social functions, she supposed Susan Hayes was the kindest, the most like her. She quickly dialed her number and drew in a deep breath meant to bolster her courage.

  “Hello?”

  “Susan, it’s Evelyn. I’m so sorry to wake you.”

  “Evelyn? How are you? I was worried.”

  She swallowed. “I’m okay. It’s just kind of a zoo over here. I wondered if I could stay with you for a few days. Just until I get things sorted out.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line, the kind of pause that made Evelyn instantly wish she could take back her request.

  “Never mind, Susan. I don’t want to put you out,” she said quickly, desperate to fill in the silence.

  “Oh, Evelyn, I’m sorry. I hope you understand,” Susan said. “I just don’t think it would look very good for us to get in the middle of it. For Jerry’s sake.”

  Her husband, also a politician, would certainly want to avoid any affiliation with the Brandts, and Evelyn couldn’t blame him, though it stung to know that Susan would put that in front of whatever friendship the two women had.

  After Evelyn mustered a “Thanks anyway,” she hung up and swallowed a lump that had formed at the back of her throat.

  Her mother’s phone call replayed in her mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of calling her parents in Texas, of admitting they’d been right when they told her she wasn’t ready to be anyone’s wife, of hearing them defend the son they’d never had.

  She considered calling Gigi, but she didn’t think she could bear the questions the older woman was bound to ask. Gigi was a fixer, and right now Evelyn didn’t want the false hope that anyone could mend what her husband had broken.

  She had no one.

  She’d spent her life building shallow relationships that had no lasting value. Her only friends were Christopher’s friends. Small-minded and judgmental, they would be more interested in the gossip than in her well-being.

  Evelyn threw her bag in the backseat of her Lexus and started the engine. She opened the garage, aware of the reporters parked near her front lawn, and pulled away, certain there was only one safe place for her to go.

  CHAPTER

  7

  IF CHRIS WEREN’T IN JAIL, Trevor might’ve put him in the hospital. After Evelyn had left the office and Casey told Trevor all the media was saying about Chris’s liaisons, the only thing Trevor could think of was going to see Evelyn. He hadn’t intended on being there when she saw the news reports.

  After years of receiving his coldness, she must have felt like leaving with him was a worse alternative than staying in a home that was under media siege, watching images of her husband’s infidelity splashing across the television.

  Told him a little something about where he stood with her, but whose fault was that?

  He’d driven home in silence, wishing there were something more he could do, wishing she’d come with him to the farm—at least there he could keep an eye on her and make sure she was safe. And that might’ve been good for her, but it would’ve been downright awful for him.

  He was already having a hard enough time figuring out his place in all of this.

  God, I promised I’d put her out of my head. I gave this to you a long time ago, so if you don’t want me to help her, I need you to make that clear.

  He spent a long and sleepless night wrestling his conflicting feelings. He knew he’d been rude to Evelyn. It wasn’t the first time. Somehow he’d decided that was better than admitting how he felt.

  Morning came quickly, and Trevor needed coffee—and a lot of it. What he didn’t need was waiting for him in the kitchen. Lilian.

  “What are we doing today, Trev?”

  “Not in the mood right now, Lil.”

  She glared at him. “We can’t just abandon her right now. Her husband is a liar and a cheat.”

  She didn’t think he knew that? He dumped a few spoonfuls of grounds into the coffeemaker and started it brewing. “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “When John cheated on me, the thing I really needed was a friend,” Lilian said. It was why she’d ended up at the farm all those years ago. Despite her rough exterior, that betrayal had wounded his aunt. Sometimes he wondered if she’d ever really recovered.

  After his parents passed away, Lilian became a lot more to him than the farm’s organic vegetable grower. She was like a second mom—the closest family member he had, and while he loved her for it, today he needed her to leave him alone.

  “I know she’s been hurt, Lil. Chris cheated over and over again.”

  And I knew it, didn’t I?

  The words tortured him. He swatted them away. What Lilian asked was impossible. Being Evelyn’s friend wasn’t an option—Chris had hurt her, sure, but Trevor’s actions were also unforgivable.

  Once upon a time, Evelyn had considered him a friend. A good friend. What had he done but abuse that trust?

  Lilian crossed the kitchen and stood right in front of him, forcing his attention. “Look, I know how you felt about her, but that was a long time ago. She needs your help.”

  Trevor stared at the coffeepot. Take your time.

  He had no interest in talking to her about Evelyn. He’d done his best to convince Lilian his feelings for Evelyn had disappeared the day she married his best friend because that’s what should have happened, but Lilian always saw through him. She was the first one to call him out on his feelings for Evelyn all those years ago, and no amount of protesting on his part could lessen her loyalty to her own gut feeling.

  Apparently his aunt had decided Evelyn’s dilemma was more important than his.

  “Do you think she’s guilty?” Lilian asked, pulling him from the past. “Do you think she was in on all of it?”

  Trevor sighed. “I don’t pretend to know anything about Evelyn Brandt, and neither should you. We aren’t a part of their world for a reason.”

  A crash in the next room startled them both. Trevor moved through the kitchen toward the fro
nt of the house, Lilian close behind. When he rounded the corner, he saw her—Evelyn—in a heap on the floor, looking like a wounded animal in need of a home.

  “Sorry,” she said, barely meeting their eyes. “I didn’t know where else to go.” She’d obviously overheard his hateful remark and tried to make a run for it, but the table in the entryway must’ve tripped her up.

  Lilian rushed over and helped her to her feet. “You can always stay here, Evelyn. We have plenty of room.”

  Evelyn slowly looked at her, then at Trevor, whose heart pounded at the sight of her in his house. He said nothing but instead turned and headed back to the kitchen.

  Lilian’s voice became downright chipper. “Do you want some coffee?”

  He didn’t hear Evelyn respond but assumed she nodded because seconds later she was sitting at his kitchen table. He leaned against the counter, holding his mug and feeling claustrophobic. How long was she planning to stay here? Was he going to have to share his morning coffee with her on a regular basis?

  And how long would he be able to pretend he didn’t want to do everything he could to make sure she was okay?

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you guys,” Evelyn said, taking a fresh cup of coffee from Lilian. “I was hoping last night’s offer was still good.”

  Lilian shot him a questioning glance. He ignored her.

  “Of course it is,” Lilian said, sitting beside Evelyn. “We’re just so sorry this is happening to you.” Funny, he’d never thought of Lilian as the sympathetic type, but kindness overtook her. Where was that tough love she doled out in his direction?

  Evelyn’s eyes found Trevor’s. “I won’t stay if it puts you in an awkward position. I mean, you were always Christopher’s friend more than mine.”

  Trevor looked away. If she only knew.

  She took a sip. “I think I might need an IV of this stuff today. I hardly slept last night.”

  Well, they had that in common. But he didn’t say so.

  “Drink all the coffee you want,” Lilian said. “I’ve got to check on my vegetables, but, Evelyn, if you need anything, let me know?”

  Evelyn nodded. “Thanks.”

  Lilian went outside, leaving the two of them horribly alone.

  “I really don’t want to drag you into the middle of any of this,” Evelyn said.

  He fought the urge to tell her she could drag him anywhere and he wouldn’t put up a fight.

  No, that wasn’t true. He’d been fighting it since he was eighteen. He lost Evelyn the same day he found her, and he had Chris to thank.

  Now he’d become paralyzed somehow. Thirty-three and still very single. Every relationship he’d had felt wrong, like wearing shoes on the opposite feet. Even Rachel, whom he’d thought he loved, had ended up getting hurt because he couldn’t fully commit to her. He didn’t like being responsible for someone else’s pain, so he’d stopped going out. Instead, he threw himself into the farm, into his work. No one would get hurt that way, least of all him.

  “Did you hear me?”

  Evie’s statement gnawed at him. Wasn’t he already in the middle? Hadn’t he always been? “It’s fine.”

  She watched him for several seconds, and he finally turned and dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain. “Stay as long as you want.”

  Evelyn needed someone to be kind to her, but it couldn’t be him. She turned the cup around between her hands, staring at the steam from the hot drink, which gave Trevor a moment to study her.

  She’d changed since she married Chris. Her long blonde hair was always pulled up, makeup perfectly applied. Even the clothes she wore now were different. She’d been such a free spirit when they first met. It was part of what he loved about her—her ability to stay true to herself even though it sometimes made her an outsider.

  Now there was only a trace of that girl in the woman sitting at his kitchen table.

  She fidgeted, looking torn. He’d made her feel unwelcome and he knew it.

  “The guesthouse is still empty. You should stay there,” he offered.

  She glanced at him. “Are you sure?”

  “No one will even know you’re there.” He knew his tone was abrupt. It had to be. She wouldn’t understand, but it was what it was. He found the guesthouse keys hanging by the back door and handed her the ring.

  She took them and gazed at them for a few long seconds. “Thanks, Whit. I’m starting to feel like you’re the only person in the world I can trust.”

  He looked away. “I’ve got to run to town. I have my phone if you need me.”

  What he should’ve said was that he had to run away. Far away. Because being around Evelyn made him think about things that could never, ever be, and that made him wish he could rewind the clock a day or two, ignore Lilian’s dramatic plea to help Evelyn, and never involve himself in the first place.

  He wasn’t lying—he had somewhere to be. Because no matter what Chris asked of him, there was no way he was going to be able to convince Evelyn there was another side to any of this.

  CHAPTER

  8

  A BARRAGE OF UNWANTED THOUGHTS pummeled Trevor as he drove toward Casey’s office. Knowing his oldest friend, he was spending his Saturday working on Evelyn’s case. No way this ended well, and Trevor knew it. What was he doing? The second Evelyn said, “I do,” every possible chance between them ended. His head knew this, but why couldn’t he get his stupid heart to fall in line?

  He drove through Old Town, trying to focus on the way the trees were starting to bud again now that spring had arrived or how the streets seemed to be especially full today, as if people had just been waiting for one ounce of warmth before descending on their small tourist town. He ran through a list of which vegetables needed planting and which needed harvesting, though he trusted Lilian to think about those things for him. He reminded himself to consider strategies to diversify the farm, make sure they didn’t plateau. He needed new ideas—ways to grow their business.

  That’s what he should be focusing on. Not on Evelyn Brandt.

  Trevor arrived at Casey’s office, turned off the engine, and sat for a moment before going in. His reflections turned to his conversation with Chris, who seemed to believe Trevor had the power to convince Evelyn everything they were seeing on the news wasn’t true. But Trevor knew Chris well enough to know better. Trevor couldn’t even imagine how deep the corruption went.

  Mostly Trevor wanted to find out if his old friend had implicated Evelyn in whatever he was mixed up in. Didn’t corrupt politicians often use their wives to help hide money?

  He shook the thoughts aside and got out of the truck. As he rounded the corner toward Casey’s office building, a woman coming from the opposite direction plowed into him, knocking his keys out of his hand.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, righting herself. “I wasn’t even looking where I was going.”

  “It’s fine,” Trevor said, picking up the keys. “My fault.”

  “Trevor Whitney? Oh, my goodness. How are you? It’s been ages.”

  He struggled to place her.

  “You don’t recognize me, do you?” She shot him a playful smile.

  “I’m terrible with names,” he said. And faces. And people.

  “Maggie Lawson.” She stuck her hand out in his direction. “We went to school together.”

  A vague memory passed through his mind. “Maggie. Right. You were in my sister’s class.”

  She gave a sharp nod. “That’s right. How is Jules?”

  He shrugged. “She’s . . . Jules. She’s out in LA trying to be an actress.”

  “And what about you?”

  “Can’t complain.” Well, he could, but what would be the point? “What brings you back to town?”

  She smiled. “I thought it was time for a visit. Didn’t think I’d see you, though.”

  He fidgeted with his keys. “I didn’t leave for long.”

  She looked away. “I heard about your parents. I’m sorry. My mom’s kept me up on all the ne
ws in town since I moved.”

  Trevor waved it off. Everyone knew about his family situation over the past several years—how Dad’s health had cut Trevor’s college career short and brought him back to Loves Park. Who else was going to run the farm? Most people his age wouldn’t have to worry about caring for aging parents for quite some time, but his parents had been late bloomers when it came to starting their family, which meant Trevor hadn’t had enough time with either of them.

  Not long after the Parkinson’s diagnosis, his parents moved to a retirement home because they didn’t want to be a burden to the family. Dad’s health began declining and he passed away a few years later, leaving Trevor without the constant support and wisdom the man had always offered.

  He could use some of Dad’s advice right now.

  “Where are you headed?” Maggie asked. “Do you have time to catch up?”

  Trevor glanced in the direction of Casey’s second-story office. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to share his many concerns with Loves Park’s most promising young attorney. What was he going to accomplish revealing he had more than a few reservations about their fallen senator anyway? Besides, if Evie was involved, he didn’t want to risk getting her in trouble.

  Maggie played with a strand of her wavy reddish hair, falling loose around her shoulders. “You’re probably busy. Forget I asked.”

  “No. I could use a cup of coffee. And it’ll be good to catch up.”

  She smiled. “Great. Is Barb’s Diner still open?”

  “Best omelets in Loves Park.” He gestured in the diner’s direction.

  Barb’s was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant only the locals knew about. Off the main drag, it wasn’t trendy, and it wasn’t fancy, but there was little chance of running into a tourist, reporter, or FBI agent, and that was almost as appealing as a meat lover’s omelet.

  They sat in a booth at the back of Barb’s, and Regina Ray sashayed over to take their order. A few years older than Trevor, Regina had never let her age stop her from flirting, but now, as she stood inches from their table, her expression had turned sour.