Change of Heart

by Courtney Walsh

  Upstairs, the sprawling master bedroom beckoned to her. She stood in the doorway, staring at the four-poster bed and wondering if she would ever trust anyone again. How could Christopher betray her like that? Repeatedly? Worse, how could he be so brazen about it? Was he so self-involved that he actually thought he wouldn’t get caught?

  Evelyn forced the thoughts from her head and moved toward the giant walk-in closet. She opened the doors and stared at the designer clothing and shoes filling the space. One by one, she flipped through the items, intending to pack up only her favorites, but the farther into the closet she got, the more she realized she didn’t like any of these clothes.

  And she didn’t like who she was when she wore them.

  She pulled out an elegant black cocktail dress Christopher had purchased for her to wear to a meeting with potential campaign investors.

  “These stuffy rich dudes need something beautiful to stare at,” he’d told her. “You make perfect arm candy.”

  She’d laughed at the time, but now the words made her feel cheap, like her only purpose had been to make Christopher look good.

  She’d once had ideas and plans and goals—but none of them had stayed with her. Somehow she’d lost herself in her effort to help Christopher. His goals had seemed so much more important than hers anyway.

  She dropped the dress on the floor and pulled out a navy-blue pantsuit she’d worn to events meant to target women. She’d played a different role depending on the audience. This pantsuit made her dignified and just a touch out of reach.

  “Every woman in the room should look up to you by the end. Give them something to aspire to.” Christopher had whispered the words in her ear while fastening the clasp of an elegant string of pearls around her neck.

  She dropped the suit on the floor. Pulled another one out and dropped it on the floor.

  Outfit by outfit, she went through her closet wondering where the real Evelyn had gone, wondering if she was so far away that she would never find herself again. Each garment landed in a pile at her feet, and as they did, she said good-bye to the persona they represented. But when she reached the end, she didn’t have a single outfit to bring with her or a single idea who she was.

  She collapsed in a heap and stared at the empty hangers, some of them still swinging.

  “I’m not strong enough for this,” she said aloud. “God, I can’t do this on my own.”

  She’d always believed that divorce was wrong—how could she admit to herself she’d even entertained the idea? But how could she not? Christopher had left her no other option.

  Leaving that ring in the courtroom wasn’t a threat. It was a choice. As if her gut had made the decision for her.

  But what if that wasn’t what she was supposed to do? How did she walk away from the only life she’d ever known?

  All those stories she’d heard of women who forgave, who took their husbands back and moved on. Maybe those were the strong women. Maybe leaving was taking the easy way out.

  Or maybe those women had husbands who were willing to change. She looked at the other side of the closet, where perfectly pressed dress shirts hung next to pristine pin-striped suits, ties neatly lined at their sides.

  Tears sprang to her eyes as the revelation made its way from her head to her heart. What hurt the most wasn’t that Christopher had lied or cheated; what hurt the most was that he wasn’t sorry. And if he wasn’t sorry, he wouldn’t change.

  And if he wouldn’t change, then Evelyn knew there was no sense trying to save her marriage. After all, she certainly couldn’t save it on her own.

  But where did that leave her?

  Sitting on the floor of a closet full of clothes that represented a person she’d become but didn’t recognize. Somehow she knew it wasn’t just Christopher’s choices that had led them to this point. It was hers too.

  And that might’ve been the toughest part of all.

  CHAPTER

  18

  CASEY HUNG UP THE PHONE and stared at Trevor. “I can’t believe it.” He flipped on the television in his office.

  “What now?”

  “She wants a divorce.”

  “Marin?” Casey’s wife had just found out she was pregnant. This hardly seemed like a good time to strike out on her own.

  “Not Marin.” He raised a brow like he had juicy gossip. “Evelyn.”

  Trevor’s heart lurched as Casey turned up the volume. Images of Evelyn entering the courthouse appeared on the screen as a reporter explained that when the judge asked the senator’s wife if she and her husband would be attending counseling, Mrs. Brandt answered in the negative, removed her wedding ring, and left it in the courtroom beside her cheating husband.

  “This is bad,” Trevor said. He picked up his phone and called Evelyn.

  No answer.

  Casey turned down the volume. “You’re not kidding. How am I going to write up papers for her to divorce one of my best friends? You know how this is going to go over with Chris.”

  Trevor took off his ball cap and folded the bill. “Then maybe he shouldn’t have cheated.”

  Casey picked up a Nerf basketball and shot it at the hoop hanging on the back of his office door. “Have you ever known Chris to be faithful?”

  Trevor cringed. He prayed he never had to admit what he knew.

  Evelyn had spent her whole adult life as the subject of town gossip, but none of it had made its way back to her. How was that possible? Did she really live in that much of a bubble? Or was Chris just that good of a liar?

  Trevor’s stomach turned. Despite his conflicting feelings for Evelyn, he’d been her friend, and a real friend would’ve told her the truth, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

  He’d stayed out of it because he wanted her to be happy. Things hadn’t exactly gone according to plan.

  “I don’t want to even think about how Chris is going to respond to this. Doesn’t look good, and you know he’s all about appearances . . .” Casey shot the ball again. Missed.

  “You really stink at that.”

  “I’m off my game. Marin’s nesting. She’s driving me nuts.”

  Trevor snorted.

  “I love her, but she’s got to stop snoring at night. I can’t sleep.” Casey palmed the ball. “Did I tell you she wants to name him Jansen?”

  “Call him Jan?”

  Casey groaned. “Not if I can help it. I hate it. What’s wrong with a good, solid boy name like George or Henry or Robert?”

  Now Trevor groaned. “It’s good you guys are on the same page.”

  Casey laughed. “What’s going on with that Maggie?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Kiss her yet?”

  “What is this, eighth grade?” Trevor took the ball. Swish. “That’s how you do that.” He sat on Casey’s leather couch, propping his feet on the coffee table.

  “I can’t believe you. What are you waiting for? You’re not getting any younger, you know. Wouldn’t you like to have a pregnant wife whose bodily functions wake you up at night?”

  He would, actually. Casey had no idea how lucky he was.

  “Aw, man,” Casey said. “I know that look.”

  Trevor questioned him with a shrug.

  “You’re holding out on Maggie because you want to see what happens with Evelyn and Chris.”

  Trevor groaned. “Don’t you start psychoanalyzing me.”

  “Please. You don’t need a shrink to tell you she is the reason you broke up with Rachel. She is the reason you’re still single. And she is the reason you’re not pursuing this thing with Maggie.”

  “She’s married, Casey.”

  Casey leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Right. And you’re a good man. A Christian. You’d never do anything to break that up. I know why you stopped hanging out with all of us, man.”

  Trevor thought getting his wisdom teeth pulled would be more pleasant than this conversation. He’d let Evelyn go a long time ago—he didn’t need the remin
der of what it had cost him.

  He’d seen Rachel not long after he broke things off with her. It was at the farmers’ market, where they’d first met. It had taken her some time to come back, but she walked by with her sister, and their eyes met for a brief, fleeting moment before she looked away, visible pain on her face.

  Rachel’s sister stomped into their booth, stuck her finger in Trevor’s chest, and gave him a piece of her mind, which, it turned out, was nothing compared to the knowledge that his indecisiveness had hurt someone he cared for so much.

  Nearly a month later, Rachel moved to one of the Carolinas. He heard she got married about a year ago. Did she still hate him for what he’d done?

  He’d tried to love her, but something was missing. He hoped she saw that now.

  He shook the memories away when he discovered Casey was still talking. “Chris was always threatened by you. He knew how you felt about her, you know.”

  Trevor didn’t reply.

  Casey sighed. “Good old Chris. Couldn’t stand the thought of you having something he wanted. I think he’s been competing with you ever since.”

  Anger rose in Trevor’s chest. “He married her. I guess he won.”

  Sure felt like a loss on his end.

  “Be honest, Whit. Why didn’t you ever make a play for Evelyn?” Casey wadded up a piece of paper and shot that at the hoop. Missed.

  Trevor didn’t want to talk about Evelyn. He didn’t need to relive his greatest regret. He did that plenty on his own time.

  “Chris must be crawling out of his skin about now.” Casey loosened his tie. “He’s probably going nuts trying to figure out how to make sure you don’t make a move on her now that he’s out of the picture.”

  “Doesn’t he know me better than that?”

  Casey’s glare accused. “Don’t tell me you never thought about it.”

  “Casey, she’s Chris’s wife.” Trevor stood. “That’s the furthest thing from my mind.”

  “Whit, I was there the night you met her.” Casey wadded up another sheet of paper. “Chris got in the middle of that on purpose. He couldn’t stand it that Evelyn liked you.”

  The words hung in the air. Fifteen-year-old memories replaying like a movie in his mind.

  “I remember how it messed you up when he told us he was marrying her. This isn’t just a high school crush, man. You love her.”

  “Enough.” Trevor hadn’t intended for the word to come out harsh, but it did. “What good does any of that do now? I’ve spent the last fifteen years thinking about how I can’t think about her. Can’t think about what a jerk her husband is or how I would never treat her like he does or take her for granted. I’ve had to remind myself—more than once—that it’s not my place to rush in and save her. That I have no right to think about her at all.”

  Casey’s eyes were wide. “As long as you’re not thinking about her.”

  Trevor threw the ball at the couch with a thud. “He knew how I felt all along.”

  Casey stilled. “I’m sorry, Whit.”

  “Does he even love her?”

  Casey leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. “Not enough to take responsibility for what he’s done.”

  Trevor sat on the couch again, elbows on his knees, head down, and sighed. It was worse than he thought. He hadn’t fought for Evelyn all those years ago. He’d given her up to someone who didn’t even seem capable of loving her at all.

  “All I know is I love Marin too much to ever risk losing her,” Casey said.

  “So what’s Chris’s next move?”

  Casey shrugged. “If Evelyn files for divorce, he’s going to try to make you look really bad to her.” Casey slid his feet off the desk and faced Trevor. “What’s he got on you?”

  Trevor sucked in a deep breath and blew it out in one hot stream. He didn’t want to think about what Chris had on him. Chris’s cover-ups and lies started long before he’d married Evelyn. And Trevor had been an integral part of it all. He wasn’t any better than Chris—not really—and to Evelyn, who needed friends she could trust more than anything, Trevor knew finding out the truth would rip open her wounds all over again.

  But this time, the betrayer would be him.

  CHAPTER

  19

  AN UNWELCOME POUNDING on the door of the guesthouse tugged Evelyn from sleep. She’d been doing a lot of sleeping since she told Casey to start divorce proceedings. It had been two weeks since her little display at the courthouse, and the media had finally stopped talking about it.

  But the Loves Park gossip mill had not, which meant Evelyn was perfectly fine hiding out in the guesthouse until further notice.

  She stumbled to the door and found Whit standing on the porch, looking like a ranch hand in his dirty jeans, a blue plaid shirt, and work boots, that ratty old baseball cap pulled down low, shading his hazel eyes.

  “Did I wake you?”

  She shrugged.

  “It’s noon.”

  “Your point?”

  He held up a plastic bag from the grocery store.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ice cream.”

  “You bought me ice cream?”

  “You said you wanted some a while ago, right?”

  The shameful scene at the store rushed back.

  He handed her the bag. “Lots of chores out here if you feel like getting out of the house.” He walked away in the direction of the barns. She stared at the two pints in the bag. Moose tracks and peppermint stick.

  He bought her ice cream?

  When had they become friends again? Or was this pity ice cream? He probably just felt sorry for her. She had become something of a disaster.

  She stuck the ice cream in the freezer as a memory jumped to the forefront of her mind. The summer before freshman year of college. She and Christopher had a date planned—just the two of them—so when Whit showed up at her house, she was angry.

  “Did he send you here?”

  Whit glanced away. “Got caught up with his parents.”

  Evelyn sighed. It was always something with Christopher. Sometimes it had felt like she spent more time with Whit—and Casey, when he tagged along—than with her own boyfriend.

  “You look good,” Whit had told her. “Want to go for a walk?”

  “You don’t have to entertain me, Whit. I’m fine.” She’d never been a very good liar.

  “This time next week, we’ll all be at different schools. Maybe I’m freaking out about it.” He kicked a rock off the edge of her front porch.

  She closed the door and joined him outside. “Are you?”

  He shrugged.

  They walked in silence toward Old Town, both lost in their own thoughts, both on the cusp of “real life”—of getting out of Loves Park and moving on to bigger and better things. They had their whole lives in front of them and no words to process the fusion of feelings swirling around in their minds.

  He stopped in front of the Old Town Creamery and smiled.

  “Might as well start on that freshman fifteen now,” she said, following him into the ice cream shop.

  He ordered moose tracks. She ordered peppermint stick. They sat outside and those inexplicable feelings poured onto the picnic table.

  “I’m not scared to leave,” she’d told him. “I think I’d be more afraid to stay.”

  Living in her house after her sister, Sylvie, died had been like living with a ghost. Her parents weren’t the same. None of them were. And the constant struggle to please her father overwhelmed her.

  “I suppose I need to get out on my own,” she said, the idea scaring her in spite of what she’d said before.

  “To do what?”

  “I’m not sure. Something with art, I think. I want to be an artist.” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Lame, right?” Not many people could make a living as an artist.

  But Whit shook his head. “Not lame at all. You should go for it. I think you can do anything.”

  Now Evelyn wondered if
he did remember they’d been good friends once.

  Or maybe he wanted to remind her of those words he’d spoken all those years ago. “I think you can do anything.”

  Nobody had ever believed in her like that—before or since. She supposed that’s what a real friend did. And yet, she’d traded that friendship for a life filled with acquaintances who’d abandoned her at the first sign of trouble. It shamed her, how she’d miscalculated what was really important.

  Dinnertime rolled around, but she had no appetite. No desire to shower either. Instead, she rotated from the Adirondack chairs outside to the couch, where she mindlessly flipped through television she had no interest in, occasionally jarred back to reality by the image of Christopher’s face, still captivating audiences with his scandalous ways.

  Released on his own recognizance. Awaiting trial. Sentencing. Prison time likely. She didn’t even know if he’d returned to Loves Park. She didn’t know if he’d gotten the divorce papers. She didn’t know anything about Christopher Brandt, and it was painfully obvious she never had.

  He would tell her she was weak. And until recently she would’ve believed him.

  Scared? Yes. But weak? Not anymore. At least, she didn’t want to be.

  Night fell and Evelyn drifted to sleep under the cozy cover of a homemade quilt.

  She awoke the next morning and lived the same day all over again. Another week passed, and Christopher started calling from the landline in the home they used to share. She turned her phone off and lay back down on the sofa, but before she could close her eyes, she heard a commotion outside.

  What if the reporters had found her? Thankfully, the curtains were closed.

  “Evelyn?”

  She groaned. It wasn’t reporters—it was worse.

  “We know you’re in there!”

  “We came to bring you back to the land of the living!”

  She opened the front door and stared at the five very hopeful-looking women carrying an array of baked goods, disposable coffee cups, and a stack of manila file folders.