Tonight, though, the town would shed their jeans and boots in favor of semiformal attire. Not exactly Trevor’s cup of tea.
Someone had decided Abigail’s store and the outlying land were the perfect location for the dinner and dance that night, and when they pulled into the patch of field designated for parking, Trevor had to admit that someone was right.
He supposed the luminarias leading up to the main entrance were a nice touch. Inside, the white lights hanging on the ceiling also added a certain charm women loved and men tolerated. He knew most of the people milling around in the barn, but he found himself scanning the crowd for one person.
And the thought of her made his palms sweat.
“Oh, Mr. Whitney, thank goodness.” Gigi bustled toward him, her voice loud over the music blaring from speakers near a small stage at one end of the room. “You certainly did take your time getting here. The presentation is in just a few minutes.”
He saw a number of the plain wooden hearts he’d designed decorating the walls. He had to admit, they’d turned out better than he hoped. When he got the idea to stain thin slats of wood with several different finishes and affix them to heart-shaped plywood cutouts, he wasn’t sure if he’d even like them.
As he studied them on the walls of The Paper Heart, he decided he did.
“These hearts you made are a huge hit—and people haven’t even seen the painted ones yet.” Doris had joined them. “You’re quite the artist, Trevor.”
“Did Evelyn come with you?” Gigi asked.
Lilian scoffed.
Gigi frowned. “She brought her painted hearts here earlier, but I haven’t seen her since.”
Trevor shook his head. “She didn’t come with us.”
He hoped Evelyn hadn’t backed out. He certainly didn’t want to stand up there in front of the whole town by himself. Though maybe that would be preferable to standing beside Evelyn. At least if he was alone, he had a better chance of not thinking about the softness of her skin or the smell of her hair.
He should’ve found out how she was doing after their run-in with Chris—after his visit to the farm. What kind of person abandoned a friend when she needed him most?
“Follow me,” Gigi said, looking at Trevor. “Doris, you go find Evelyn.”
But their search ended when they turned around.
Evelyn stood a few yards away, near a side entrance lit only by the dim white lights hanging above. She wore something blue, turquoise, like the color of the ocean in an ad for a cruise. Her eyes were that same color, and for a moment, he said a prayer of thanks it was too dark to see them. He might buckle under their boldness. Her blonde hair was long and loose. He wanted to touch it.
Doris let out a quiet “Oh, my. She’s beautiful.”
Gigi, barely at Trevor’s shoulders, looked up at him, her gaze too intent. He could feel the words she wasn’t saying. He had to give her credit—the woman had a knack for figuring out matters of the heart.
Thankfully, she said nothing. He forced himself to look away.
Evelyn finally caught sight of them. He could see her walking toward him out of the corner of his eye, and when he dared a glance in her direction, he noticed she refused to make eye contact. Just as he thought. Chris had gotten in her head.
It was what he deserved. She might have kept the truth about Maggie from him for a few hours, but he’d been hiding the truth about her husband for years.
When she reached their small circle, he turned away. He couldn’t face her. If she knew the things he’d been thinking—the way her nearness had set something off inside him—he would be the one cowering in embarrassment. Not the other way around.
Gigi reached her hands out to Evelyn, pulling her into a hug. “We’re so glad you’re here. I took a peek at the hearts. They’re absolutely perfect. I knew the two of you would create something wonderful together.”
Trevor glanced at Evelyn—a reflex—and she did the same. They both looked away immediately. His mouth had gone dry and his throat felt raw. He drew in a deep breath. If Gigi had figured out the truth about his feelings, how much longer did he think he could keep it from Evelyn?
Never mind he’d hidden it for years.
His stomach flip-flopped. How could he keep pretending? He’d given her up the day she married Chris. But the day the divorce went through, a new battle had begun. Knowing she was no longer married had knocked over the main barrier to his feelings.
“Going to get a drink,” he said, walking in the other direction, guilt tugging at the corners of his mind. But he hadn’t been secretly wishing for Evelyn’s marriage to fall apart. In fact, he’d even prayed God would bring conviction to Chris so he could be the kind of husband she deserved. So why had Trevor’s love for Evelyn returned?
“Three minutes, Mr. Whitney,” Gigi said.
Three minutes wouldn’t be enough time to calm himself down. He walked to the punch table and, for the first time since high school, wished there was something stronger than sugar in that punch. He took a cup and drank, eyeing the door.
Before he could decide, he heard tapping on the microphone. The music stopped and a little old lady wound her arm through his. “Gigi sent me to get you.” Doris winked. “Thought you might get cold feet.”
He stifled a groan and let himself be led to the front of the room, where Gigi had taken the stage, Evelyn only a few feet away.
“Get up there,” Doris said. “Gigi’s orders.”
Gigi waved Trevor up. Like a child, he did as he was told, telling himself this would all be over in a matter of minutes and he could go home.
He stood next to Evelyn. He scanned the crowd of faces, but none of them seemed to register. The only thing he could think of was how close he was to the woman he loved.
But then he’d always been close, and it had never been enough.
His tie squeezed his neck like a noose, his palms wet. He contemplated making a run for it.
The microphone looked awkward and unbalanced in Gigi’s hand as she addressed the audience. “We’re so happy to see you all here as we close out our Sweetheart Festival, and we’re very excited because we have a surprise for you.”
She glanced at Trevor and Evelyn before continuing. “Now, some of you may have read the little exposé in the Courier about my dear friends, Trevor Whitney and Evelyn Brandt.”
Trevor’s heart dropped. What was Gigi doing?
“But I can assure you, there was a misunderstanding. As you probably guessed, these two are not romantically involved. They were simply working together on a project for our fair city at my request.”
Beside her, on a screen, a picture of the Main Street lampposts appeared.
“As you all know, we do love the tradition of our wooden hearts, but being such an artistic community, we thought perhaps we could come up with a bit more creative version this year to celebrate our town’s great love affair with love.”
A smattering of applause worked its way across the room. Trevor shifted. He had no interest in being the poster boy for the Sweetheart Festival, and yet here he stood.
“Enter Mr. Whitney, the woodworker, and our dear Evelyn, the artist.”
More clapping. Was this what it had taken for the town to view them more favorably?
“We’ve asked them to reimagine our tradition, and we think you’re going to love what they’ve come up with. Before I show you, I want to tell you one of my favorite things about being a Valentine Volunteer is that I get drawn in by some of the stories we see come our way.” She smiled. “For example, about ten years ago, we received an anonymous request for a special wooden heart from someone here in this very town.”
Heat rushed to Trevor’s face.
“And what we’ve found is that every year since, this same anonymous request has come in, but every year has been a different line from the same song lyrics. It’s been so many years, we’ve almost got the entire song on hearts. There’s something so intriguing about a mysterious love story,” She paused and
glanced at Trevor, but he avoided her eyes.
“I never mentioned this story to Evelyn, but it just so happened to be the one that inspired her artistic reimagining of our age-old tradition.”
Nausea rolled through Trevor’s gut. This just so happened to be the story? Was the universe playing some cruel, cosmic joke on him? God, have you been ignoring all my requests for help on purpose just to humiliate me here in front of the entire town?
“Now, with Trevor’s help, she’s re-created these beautiful hearts in an effort to show you what our new painted hearts campaign is going to look like. Our lampposts are truly going to be works of art.” Gigi spun around. One look at Trevor and she lowered her microphone. “Are you okay, Mr. Whitney?”
He nodded. A lie.
Evelyn stared over the crowd. Probably better. He didn’t need her turning his way. Not right now.
Gigi addressed the audience again. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are thrilled to reveal the masterpieces created by these two local artists. Trevor has provided the wooden cutouts, and Evelyn, the painted words. I think you’ll agree the combination of both is stunning.”
She nodded to Doris, who tugged on the end of a rope, loosening the large canvas backdrop that hung in front of the new hearts. The backdrop fell to the ground, revealing Trevor’s hearts, which looked nothing like they had when he’d turned them over to Evelyn. She’d transformed them with her flawless artwork.
Never mind that each of the ten hearts behind them spelled out the lyrics to the song that had been playing the night they met. Trevor remembered because high school parties rarely featured the music of Nat King Cole.
Someone had accidentally turned on Chris’s dad’s stereo and let it play through almost the entire song before the mocking began and the music was changed.
But in Trevor’s mind, it had been the perfect sound track for the events of that evening. Seeing Evelyn like that, dimly lit by the pale moonlight. Working up the courage to talk to her. Deciding in that moment he could actually love her, though he knew it was a ridiculous notion given the fact that they’d only just met.
He routinely left out the part of the memory where Chris swept in and stole her attention the way he always did.
It had seemed like a good idea, purchasing one of the hearts that first year they were married. His way of expressing a love that could never be. The one indulgence he’d allow himself where his feelings for Evelyn were concerned. But now? Seeing all of them on display like this—not just one at a time on a Main Street lamppost—he realized the error of his thinking. If anyone ever found out . . .
If Evelyn ever found out . . .
Her discovery of the things he’d kept from her for Chris’s benefit would be one thing. Her discovery of his feelings would be something else entirely.
Gigi allowed the applause to die down before finishing. “Feel free to peruse the hearts for yourself and get an early start on ordering your own custom sign this year. They will take longer to prepare, as you can imagine. Now, why don’t we ask our two artists to lead us in a celebratory dance as we return to the evening’s festivities?”
Trevor’s stomach plummeted to the floor. She couldn’t be serious.
Gigi set the microphone in its stand and faced them. “I hope you don’t mind me putting you on the spot. I thought it would be a lovely touch.”
Right. Lovely.
“I’ve asked the band to play the song painted on the hearts. I hope that’s okay.” Gigi walked toward the stairs. “Come on, you two.”
Trevor swallowed, then gestured to Evelyn. “After you.”
She didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she walked past him, down the stairs, and stood waiting.
All around the room, guests focused on the two of them, and Trevor thought for the first time he might be in more danger of having a panic attack than Evelyn. He met her on the floor. “You okay with this?”
She stared into his chest. “Let’s just get it over with.”
She seemed to have taken a page out of his playbook. The two of them had settled back into a friendship, but now that Chris had planted the seed that she couldn’t trust Trevor, she’d pushed him a healthy arm’s length away.
Plus, he hadn’t exactly been kind to her after the whole Maggie fiasco blew up in both their faces.
A lifetime of regret swirled together with a week’s worth of the same, leaving Trevor without words.
He walked to the center of the room, aware she followed close behind. Dim lights shone around them as the band waited for them to take their spots.
Trevor extended his right hand. Eyes still cast downward, she took it, stepping toward him and allowing his left arm to rest at the small of her back. Her free hand found his shoulder and the crowd went quiet.
Kate Willoughby, the doctor’s sister, stood at the center of the stage, one faint light illuminating the side of her face. The first line of the song rang out through the barn, her voice melancholy. Seconds later, she strummed an easy chord on her guitar, and Trevor and Evelyn slowly started to move together.
The very thought of you and I forget to do
The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do
The words haunted. The tune tortured, drawing him back to that night. The night he found her—the night he lost her.
He inched closer and drew her in. He could feel his defenses weaken at her nearness. He wanted to fold her into himself, to have the right to hold her.
Around them, other couples began to dance, but he kept his face low, near hers. If he could’ve absorbed her pain, he would’ve. Without question. He wanted to tell her the truth—all of it. And he wanted her to be okay with it—all of it. He wanted to make her understand that everything he’d done, he’d done for her.
Kate reached the second chorus and another singer added harmony.
But Evelyn’s feet stopped moving, and her grip tightened ever so slightly.
Then, for the first time since the embarrassing evening before, she lifted her chin and gazed into his eyes.
She knew.
The song must’ve awakened a memory because the way she looked at him, the pieces falling together, it was clear Evelyn Brandt had discovered the secret he’d hidden since he was seventeen years old.
Her hands slipped from his as she stepped back. Confusion filled her face.
“Evie.” He reached for her, but she moved away, stepping slowly out of the light and disappearing into the darkness.
As always, inches from his reach.
CHAPTER
36
EVELYN RACED OUT OF THE BARN, but when she reached the parking lot, she remembered she’d gotten a ride over with Abigail. She circled through the cars like a rat in a cage. Trapped.
She felt—not saw—Whit emerge from the barn.
“Evie?” She turned as he walked toward her, sending her mind back years, the memory of the melody begging for her attention.
She searched his eyes for an explanation.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t pretend.”
He drew in a breath and let it out as he turned away, raking a hand through his hair. “Evie, please.”
“It was you.”
He brought his hands to his hips, stared at the ground. “Don’t do this.”
She took a step forward. “Me?” Her laugh lacked amusement. “I painted those lyrics, nothing more than words. I never looked up the song because I didn’t want to think about some happy couple celebrating Valentine’s Day. Not this year.”
But she had thought of them, hadn’t she? She’d allowed her mind to invent a love story so beautiful it almost convinced her that one day she could know how it felt to be loved without condition. How had she been so foolish?
He looked at her. “How happy could their story be if the hearts were purchased in secret?”
Her stomach lurched. “But I know that song, don’t I, Whit?”
All the words he hadn’t said hung in the air. He w
atched her in silence for so many seconds, she had her answer.
The song had been playing the first night they met. She would’ve forgotten it, but he’d also played it for her on the piano the night he told her he wasn’t going back to school. The night Christopher interrupted their conversation. The night something unspoken passed between them—something she quickly dismissed.
“I know that melody.”
He kicked a rock. Sighed. “Listen, can we just forget about it? I don’t know what you think you remember but—”
She moved toward him, quickly, and stopped inches from where he stood. “You don’t get to do that right now.”
He closed his eyes and drew in another breath.
“It was you. You bought the hearts.” She stilled. “For me.” She’d whispered the words, the reality of them settling on her shoulders, tears filling her eyes. “Why?”
He walked away from her, but she followed him.
“Are you leaving?”
He yanked his tie loose and wove through the parked cars, stopping at the sight of Jerry Yates, an old classmate who spent most of his days drunk.
Jerry spun around. “Whit!” He glanced at Evelyn. “I knew the paper got it wrong about you two.” His words slurred together like butter melting in a pot. “She is way out of your league.” Jerry laughed. “Am I right, Evelyn?”
Trevor moved past Jerry until he reached his truck, parked near the exit for a quick getaway.
Evelyn followed. “Stop.”
Finally he faced her. “This is no good, Evie, and you know it. Just let it go.”
She searched his eyes. All those years of her marriage, she’d thought he despised her. What if she’d gotten it wrong? “I can’t let this go. Explain it to me.”
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