Change of Heart

by Courtney Walsh

  Gently he disengaged himself. “This isn’t a good idea, Evelyn,” he said.

  Her face fell. “Why do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Push me away. You can’t even tell me how you feel. Instead, you’re just going to close yourself off. Again.”

  She didn’t get it. She never would. Because she didn’t know the truth.

  “I should probably go.” Because clearly I don’t have a lot of willpower when it comes to you.

  Trevor turned away from the pain in her beautiful blue eyes. He couldn’t stand the thought that he was the one hurting her tonight.

  But it made no sense to prolong the inevitable. She deserved better than Trevor and his years of deception. Plain and simple. As he walked past her and out the door, his hand involuntarily moved toward her as if by some magnetic force. But he was too late.

  He’d made his decision a long time ago. He wasn’t good enough for her then and he wasn’t good enough for her now, especially with all their history.

  Best she came to that conclusion sooner rather than later. She’d said it herself. Lies were the last thing she needed in her life.

  But that night, when his head hit the pillow, he couldn’t deny the knot in his stomach—a knot that drove him up and out of bed more than once—because somehow, Trevor feared walking away was the biggest mistake of his life.

  CHAPTER

  38

  THROUGH HER TEARS, Evelyn tossed all of her belongings into the only suitcase she had and stuffed it in the trunk of her car. As she pulled away from Whitney Farms, humiliated at Trevor’s second rejection, she realized she had nowhere to go.

  She drove aimlessly toward town, wondering how things had gotten so far off base. Earlier this evening as she’d stood in the middle of The Paper Heart, that song echoing from the speakers, it had all swirled back, like a circle of leaves kicked up by an autumn breeze.

  She remembered. Trevor’s lanky fingers moving over the piano keys as he hummed that melody—the familiar song she couldn’t place. And that’s when she knew.

  But with the knowing came so many new questions.

  Why hadn’t Trevor said anything?

  Was it true Christopher had only pursued her because he knew about Whit’s feelings?

  And perhaps the most pressing: Had Christopher ever loved her at all? Or was she simply a prize to be won?

  After nearly an hour, she rounded a familiar corner, driving along the lake until she found herself sitting across the street from the house she’d shared with Christopher. The house where he probably lived with his pregnant girlfriend—or was she his wife now?

  She parked her car and watched in the stillness of night. It was late. She should just go check herself into a hotel or, even better, drive straight out of town. And yet she found herself here.

  Why?

  She turned the car off and looked at her key ring. Unless Christopher had changed the locks, she still had a key to the front door. She got out and walked up the sidewalk until she reached the porch. She stood for several minutes, trying to decide if she even wanted to know the truth.

  But if she didn’t ask, how would she ever move on?

  She drew in a breath, stuck the key in the lock, and opened the door.

  Christopher emerged from the study, probably concerned that someone had opened his front door at midnight. She stopped moving. His lip was swollen and his face red and bloodstained.

  Whit.

  At the sight of her, he softened. “I knew you’d be back.”

  She shut the door behind her. “I came here to get something I didn’t have in the whole ten years we were married.”

  He frowned. “What is it?”

  “The truth.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Evelyn, in case you can’t tell, your boyfriend already worked me over tonight. I don’t have the energy to fight with you too.”

  “I’m not here to fight. I just want to know one thing.”

  He put his hands on his hips, heaved a heavy sigh. “What?” He did nothing to hide his annoyance.

  She forced herself to move toward him, begging God to give her strength to stop trying to please other people all the time. It didn’t matter anymore if Christopher was happy with her. She wasn’t happy with him.

  That had never mattered before. But now it did. Now she realized she had the right to an opinion of her own.

  “In high school, did you ask me out because you knew Trevor wanted to?”

  He raised a brow. “Is that what he told you?”

  “He didn’t tell me anything. I’m trying to figure out what’s been going on for the last fifteen years.”

  Christopher strolled past her into the living room and sat down on the sofa. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  She followed him. “I’m asking you.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “It makes a difference to me.”

  He leaned into the couch, spread his arms across the back, and stared at her, head tilted as if sizing her up. “What do you want to know?”

  “The night we met, I spent most of the time talking to Trevor. He was the first person at school who was nice to me.”

  Christopher scoffed. “Yep. Trevor Whitney, the nice guy. Worked out real well for him.”

  Evelyn ignored him. “He liked me, didn’t he? And you knew it.”

  He inhaled, then narrowed his focus on her. “Yep.”

  “A few days later, you asked me out. Is that why? Was it just some kind of weird competition for you?”

  “You were new and mysterious. And stunning. You should’ve heard the way everyone talked about you when you first showed up.”

  She folded her arms.

  “All the guys wanted you. That made you more interesting, I guess. And there was no way I was going to let someone else have you. Not when I was sure I could.”

  “But you knew how Trevor felt.”

  “Everyone knew, Evelyn. Just like everyone knew about what I did when I wasn’t with you.” He stood, a smugness washing across his face. “Well, everyone except you, I guess.” He shook his head. “Once the mystery wore off, what was I supposed to do? You didn’t really expect me to only have you for the rest of my life?”

  The words stung like an electrical shock zapping her off-kilter, but she forced herself to keep her balance.

  “I think you’re jealous of Trevor.”

  Christopher laughed. “I’m jealous of Whit. The farmer who still lives at home. It took him six years to finish college, Evelyn.” He rolled his eyes.

  “And he had parents who cared for him and never worried about his public image. They loved him anyway. He has a very successful business you probably don’t even know about, and more than anything, he’s perfectly comfortable in his own skin. He knows what’s really important.”

  “Right, because those are things I’m after.”

  Evelyn watched him, and for the first time since the FBI invaded their home all those months ago, she began to feel something she never expected to feel for her ex-husband. Pity.

  “You’ve been searching for contentment your whole life, Christopher,” she said. “I know because I’ve been searching too. And I think you had me convinced that it was all wrapped up in status and power and money. But you know what Trevor Whitney has always known that you and I failed to realize?”

  He didn’t respond to her rhetorical question.

  “Those things only complicate the search for peace. I know you couldn’t stand the fact that Trevor liked me, so you got in the middle and you made sure we would never be together. Because in your mind—even if you didn’t realize it—Trevor already had everything you wanted.”

  Christopher ran a hand over his chin. “Is that right?”

  “I know I made mistakes too,” she continued. “I was so caught up in the promises you made, in the way you turned heads and how everyone responded to you. I wanted out of my parents’ house, and the life you offered won me over. I was too influe
nced by everyone else’s opinions to make a single decision of my own.”

  “Great, Evelyn,” Christopher said. “I’m glad you’ve had this epiphany.”

  Months ago, she would’ve stopped talking at his sarcastic comment, but she had more to say. “Trevor is content with who he is. I’ve never had that. I was so busy becoming who you wanted me to be that I forgot who I wanted to be. And honestly, Christopher, I don’t blame you completely for our failed marriage. Maybe if I’d been more willing to demand your faithfulness, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.”

  “Maybe you’re right, Evelyn. Maybe Whit is the guy for you.”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  He moved toward her, stopping only a few inches from where she stood. “And maybe, just maybe, he’s kind and good and honest.”

  “He is.” Her words were barely a whisper.

  “Or maybe he’s been a part of this thing all along and you were too blind to see that either.”

  She stepped away, but he closed the gap between them.

  “Who do you think helped me hide everything I was doing while we were dating, Evelyn? Who do you think lied to you when I was late because I had a ‘previous engagement’? Oh, he was more than happy to step in as a fake boyfriend when I was out having the time of my life, but how much could he really care about you if he’d stand by and let you marry a man who hadn’t been faithful to you one single day of his life?”

  The words rushed at Evelyn like a flood. “What are you saying?”

  “He’s not your friend, Evelyn. He’s always been my wingman. He even pretended one of the girls I was with was his girlfriend once. In fact, I couldn’t have done it without good old Whit.” He ran a hand up her arm, wrenching her stomach.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, ask him then. He’s known from the beginning, and he never said a word. How can you ever trust someone who would allow you to be so hurt?”

  She moved away from him but backed into the table next to the sofa. “You’re the one who hurt me, Christopher.”

  “If you say so. Forget that he kept you occupied a few times when we were dating until I could finish with other girls. Oh, he always hated it, but somehow it worked for us. He got to pretend he was dating you and I got to be a man.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “And you’re naive. Trevor Whitney is no better than the rest of us, so take him off that little pedestal and stop feeling sorry for his tortured heart. This isn’t some Shakespearean play. It’s just life, Evelyn. You made your choices and he made his. Tell me, how will you ever recover from them?”

  She started for the door. “I feel sorry for you,” she said, hand on the doorknob.

  “Don’t. I don’t need your pity. I’m going to be just fine. I always am.”

  Evelyn faced him. “You’ve been surrounded by people your whole life, Christopher, and you’re the loneliest person I know.”

  She pried the house key from her key ring and set it on the table in the entry, then walked out the door into the crisp autumn night.

  CHAPTER

  39

  “SHE’S GONE.” Lilian’s words hung in the air.

  “What do you mean?”

  But he knew. He knew the second he awoke, face throbbing, the memory of his unwise choice to pay Chris a visit the night before lingering, the pain of his unwise choice to push Evelyn away tormenting.

  “She’s not at the guesthouse anymore. Her car is gone and the closet in the bedroom is empty.” Lilian glared at him. “What did you do?”

  He turned away. “What makes you think it was me?”

  But they both knew better. He stared out the window at the guesthouse, mining the regret from the dark part of his soul. He couldn’t walk down this path with Evelyn until she knew the whole truth about what he’d done—or not done—over the years.

  Then, if she still wanted to see if there was something between them, at least he’d be moving forward with a clear conscience.

  “She found out how you felt, didn’t she?”

  He hated that Lilian knew how he felt, but at least he’d managed to keep his foolishness regarding the wooden hearts to himself. Until last night, that was. If she discovered that embarrassing tidbit, his aunt certainly would have chastised him for clinging to someone who was married to someone else.

  Never mind that he hadn’t been “clinging.” He knew Evelyn belonged to Chris, and he was completely fine.

  But he saw now that was a lie he’d told himself.

  And unfortunately, he’d only made things worse.

  He’d been awake most of the night, replaying that kiss over and over in his mind and attempting to pinpoint what it was that he was so afraid of.

  He walked past Lilian and up to the guesthouse. Evelyn’s scent still hung in the air, but the bungalow was, as Lilian said, empty. Where had she gone?

  He tried calling her cell, but there was no answer.

  He walked through his chores that morning with a vague connection to reality, wondering what his problem was in the first place. He’d been pushing her away for so many years, maybe he didn’t know how to stop. And maybe she’d forgive him for lying to her.

  By noon, he decided he couldn’t pull one more weed, feed one more animal, or fix one more broken barn door. He drove to town, where he saw the remnants of the Sweetheart Festival hanging throughout Old Town. Community volunteers worked to clean up the streets, and while Trevor should’ve stopped and helped, he didn’t. Instead, he drove past all of it until he reached Casey’s house in a neighborhood about three blocks from the lake.

  Casey knew more about the way Trevor felt than he ever let on, but more than that, he had a wife. And the opinion of an unbiased woman might be what Trevor needed right now.

  Marin answered the door, her face free of makeup, her hair pulled off her face. “Whit? What are you doing here?”

  “Came over to talk to Casey.” No need to reveal his true intentions yet. “Is he home?”

  Marin opened the door wider, then took a step back so Trevor could come in. The smell of something cooking on the stove filled the air.

  She closed the door behind him. “He’s watching football.” She led Trevor into the living room of the small two-story. “Even though he’s supposed to be putting together the crib we just bought.”

  Casey looked up when they entered the room. “Hey, Whit. Did you come by to watch the game?”

  “No, but I’ll help you with the crib if you want.” He winked at Marin.

  “Did she call you over here to make me feel guilty?” Casey’s tone teased.

  Marin put her up hands. “I think it’s divine intervention. His visit is unprovoked.”

  Trevor held his ratty red ball cap, folding the bill. Casey stood and studied his old friend. “All right, let’s go. Broncos are losing anyway.”

  They went upstairs and into a small room with pale-green walls and wood floors. “Marin painted it two weeks ago. She thought blue was too cliché.”

  “Looks good,” Trevor said.

  The crib lay in pieces on top of a soft striped rug. Trevor knelt down and took inventory of the parts. Casey sat in a rocking chair in the corner. “Why are you really here?”

  Marin walked in just in time to hear the question. She carried two glasses of lemonade. He resisted the urge to make a remark about her belly. If he remembered correctly, her due date was quickly approaching and he knew better than to draw attention to her size.

  “For us?” Casey said.

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “One of them was going to be for you, but from the looks of it, you have no intention of working up a sweat. So they’re both for Trevor.” The smile that punctuated her sentence dripped sarcasm.

  Trevor grinned but kept his head down, fitting pieces together. “Actually, Marin,” he said, “do you have a minute?”

  Casey stood. “I don’t know whether to be proud or hurt. In all the years I’ve known you, you’
ve never needed a woman’s opinion for anything.”

  Trevor moved on to the second leg of the crib. “Well, now I do.”

  Marin took Casey’s seat. “We’ve got all day, Whit.” She smiled. “What’s up?”

  “Evelyn,” Casey said. “Finally divorced, cheating Chris out of the picture. You’re wondering if you should make your move.”

  Trevor groaned. “Not exactly.”

  Casey’s eyes widened. “You made your move?”

  Marin smacked his leg. “Will you let him talk?”

  “You were at the dance last night.” Trevor started on the third leg of the crib.

  Marin sighed. “It was really beautiful. Made me feel like a teenager all over again.”

  “A knocked-up teenager,” Casey laughed.

  She smacked him again. “Whose fault is that?”

  Casey waggled his eyebrows at her. “All mine, baby.”

  She turned her attention back to Trevor. “I love the hearts you two made.”

  “Yeah, well, those hearts are the reason I’m in this predicament.” On to the fourth crib leg.

  “Did you mess something up?” Casey said.

  “You could say that.”

  “Did you find out who bought the hearts with the song lyrics? Spoil some surprise? Crash a romantic fantasy?”

  “Now who isn’t letting him talk?” Casey quipped.

  “You could say that too.” Trevor kept his eyes on the task at hand.

  Marin gasped. “Who? We were all guessing last night.”

  Trevor flipped the crib over and stood, then hung his head. He was no good at this talking thing.

  “You?” Marin studied him. “You?” She did nothing to hide her surprise. “But you’re so . . .”

  “What?” Trevor frowned.

  “What she’s trying to say is that around here, people think you’re kind of cold. Standoffish,” Casey said. “Like, the least romantic person in town.”