Change of Heart

by Courtney Walsh

  “Evelyn said that too.”

  “So you’ve been buying hearts to profess your love to Evelyn Brandt for ten years?” Marin’s face reminded Trevor of a Disney princess.

  Trevor groaned again. “It sounds really pathetic when you say it like that.”

  “No, it’s wonderful and romantic. Did she just melt when you told her?”

  “Not quite.” Sparing as much detail as possible, Trevor explained the whole mess. The moment she found out about the hearts, the moment he showed up at Chris’s house and got into a fistfight with his former best friend, the moment he realized he hadn’t buried his feelings for Evelyn as well as he’d thought, the moment he found himself kissing the woman he loved, then lastly—and most regrettably—the moment he pushed her away.

  Marin stood. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”

  Casey put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re married, remember?”

  She laughed. “Why can’t you be more like Trevor, Casey?”

  Casey shot a look at Trevor. “Well, that’s not something I ever thought my wife would say.”

  Marin shook her head. “I had no idea, and I bet Evelyn didn’t either. But you love her, and she’s not married anymore. So what’s the problem?”

  Trevor put the finishing touches on the crib and took a step back. “Crib’s done.”

  “Good grief, you’re like a magician,” Casey said. “I’ve got a dresser in a box in the garage.”

  Marin raised a hand and Casey stopped talking. “Don’t change the subject.”

  Trevor drew in a breath. Here was the ugly part. The truth. “I’ve been lying to her for years.”

  “But she’ll understand. It sounds like she already does.”

  “Not only about my feelings.” He glanced at Casey, who looked away. “About Chris.”

  Marin frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Trevor glanced up at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. “I knew about the cheating. Even before they got married.”

  He could feel disappointment settle on Marin’s shoulders.

  “I know. I’m worse than Chris,” Trevor said.

  “No one is worse than Chris,” Casey said.

  “I pretty much helped him cheat on her,” Trevor said.

  Marin waved her hand in the air. “What do you mean you helped him cheat on her? Like, you found him girls? You gave him a place to go? What are we talking about here?”

  “In high school and all through college, Chris always had other girls. He’d call and tell me he was held up and ask me to keep Evelyn company until he could get there.”

  Casey had known. He’d even encouraged Trevor to tell Evelyn the truth, but when he tried, Trevor chickened out. Didn’t want to be the one to tell her that kind of news. Didn’t want to be the guy who broke her heart.

  Some friend. He told himself he just wanted her to be happy, even if he wasn’t the one she chose. But it was selfish and he knew it.

  After a long pause under Marin’s watchful gaze, she finally sighed. “They were just kids, Whit. And so were you. You couldn’t have known he was still cheating on her after they got married.”

  Trevor said nothing.

  “You knew?” Marin evidently had no skill at hiding her emotions. Whatever she thought was clearly painted on her face.

  “I thought everyone knew. It’s not like he was discreet.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her?” Marin’s face fell.

  “I tried to once, when they’d just gotten engaged.” Trevor stilled at the memory. “Went to her house, knocked on the door—almost got the words out—but when I realized Chris was there, I took it as a sign.”

  “You didn’t try again?” Casey’s wife almost looked personally hurt by his admission.

  He could only imagine how Evelyn would look when he told her. Because he would tell her. He had to.

  “I didn’t want to be responsible for the fallout.” He shook his head, regret racing through his veins. “I went to Chris instead. He promised he would stop all of that. But I knew that wasn’t true.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up because Chris was a lousy husband,” Casey said. “It’s not your fault.”

  “There’s more.” Trevor sighed, the memory still fresh. “A few years ago, I saw him out with someone else.” Lilian had an egg delivery to make at a hotel restaurant in Dillon, but she got sick and Trevor went instead. After he unloaded the eggs, he walked through the restaurant to find the manager and instead he found Chris, cozied up with a leggy redhead, hidden in a corner.

  The worst part was Chris hadn’t even pretended to be sorry. He sauntered over to Trevor and tossed a glance at the woman, whose dress was so tight it looked like it might cut off her circulation.

  Heat rushed to Trevor’s face, and he fought to restrain himself.

  Chris had grinned. “Whit. How ya been, man?”

  Trevor looked pointedly at the woman.

  “Business meeting,” Chris said.

  “What kind of business is she in, Chris?”

  He smirked. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  Trevor glared at him.

  “You look so serious, Whit.” He laughed. “Have you seen Evelyn lately? We’re thinking about having a baby. She’s so happy.” He squeezed Trevor’s shoulder.

  Trevor bit back words Christian men didn’t say.

  The restaurant door popped open and Evelyn walked in, confusion on her face when she saw the two of them standing together, mere feet from the table where the redhead sat, swirling a cocktail in a tall glass.

  Evelyn frowned as she approached. “I thought I’d come surprise Christopher at his conference, but what are you doing here, Trevor?”

  Chris didn’t even stutter. “Just finished up our last seminar and stopped in here for a drink when I ran into Whit.”

  “What are the odds?” Evelyn glanced at the woman at the table, who watched the three of them. She stood and walked toward the group.

  Chris put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “Yeah. I was just going, actually.”

  Trevor glanced away, disgusted by how easy it was for Chris to lie to his wife.

  “Evelyn, this is Whit’s girlfriend, Janine,” Chris said, giving the redhead a push toward Trevor. She got the hint and wrapped an arm around Trevor’s waist.

  Chris laughed. “Whit, you’re so tense.” He glanced at Evelyn. “We should leave so Janine can help him with that.”

  Evelyn looked at Trevor, then at Janine. “I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

  Trevor met her hopeful eyes. “It’s, uh, new.”

  Coward.

  Evelyn smiled. “Well, have fun.”

  Trevor nodded but turned away, disgusted by how easy it was for him to lie to her.

  “She’s gonna hate me,” Trevor said now, pushing the memory to the back of his mind, where he wished it would stay. He looked at Marin and Casey.

  Marin moved toward him. “It’s not great, Whit, but it’s not a deal breaker. You need to tell her the truth and then see if you can move past it.”

  Casey groaned. “Terrible advice.”

  Marin spun around. “You knew too, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’m in love with you—not Evelyn.”

  She huffed impatiently. “What is it about Christopher Brandt that everyone is so afraid of? He’s a small-minded, narcissistic, pigheaded man on a power trip. And he doesn’t deserve your loyalty. Or Evelyn’s.”

  Marin was right. For whatever reason, they’d all been overawed by Chris since they were kids. Somehow that translated to bad behavior on his behalf—and it had to end.

  She took Trevor’s hands and looked at him with the same concern his mother used to have when she would give sage advice. “Put this down, Whit. It’s not yours to carry.”

  The words dangled in the air, daring him to take them to heart. He wanted it to be true—that he didn’t have to drag all of this around with him anymore. Evelyn’s marriage had ended. She was m
ostly free of the man who’d betrayed her.

  “I have to tell her,” Trevor said, his voice quiet.

  “Then you need to eat some of Marin’s chili before you go.” Casey led him out of the nursery. “As last meals go, it’s not a bad choice.”

  They walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Trevor watched as Marin and Casey maneuvered together like a couple performing a perfectly choreographed slow dance. “I hope you guys know how lucky you are.”

  Casey glanced at Marin, whose face lit with a soft smile. “We don’t really believe in luck.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Trevor didn’t believe in luck either. He believed in a God who would help him navigate the consequences of the choices he’d made up to this point.

  Marin laughed. “You’re lucky too, Whit. You just don’t know it yet.”

  He hoped so. As he ate, he said a silent prayer that he would find the courage to finally tell the truth, and he hoped that somehow it really would set him free.

  CHAPTER

  40

  EVELYN STOOD IN THE LOFT above The Paper Heart, admiring the way the light filtered in through the many windows facing east, perfect for catching the morning sun.

  “What do you think?” Abigail Pressman stood at the top of the stairs; below them was the store she’d filled with unique treasures, hand-painted furniture, and one-of-a-kind artwork from Loves Park’s most prominent artists.

  But the loft? Empty.

  “It’s an incredible space,” Evelyn said. “Peaceful.”

  “So.” Abigail smiled. “Do you want it?”

  Evelyn frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I heard through the grapevine you were looking for a studio space.” Abigail had been through quite an ordeal with her previous business, but now it was as if losing her prime real estate in Old Town was always part of the plan. She seemed genuinely happy, as though she’d found something Evelyn had only ever dreamed of.

  Her purpose.

  “I’m not sure who told you that. The only painting I’ve done lately is the hearts.” But that didn’t mean Evelyn hadn’t thought of it. She’d lost so much of herself, she had a feeling painting might be the only way to figure out who it was she was supposed to become in the first place.

  And yes, she was still on the hunt for peace, the kind she’d glimpsed at Whitney Farms.

  “Surely you don’t want to stock shelves forever,” Abigail said. “I was thinking you could work up here, and we could set up art workshops for kids, parents, whoever wants to come.” Abigail watched her. “It would give you some time to decide what’s next.”

  Evelyn looked around. The loft, in the old barn that was currently Abigail’s store, was certainly large enough for a small group of people to come in and paint. And there would still be plenty of room for Evelyn to work during the week. Her children’s book sketches were long gone, but she’d begun reimagining them. It would be wonderful to have a place to bring Silly Lily to life.

  She looked at Abigail. “You would want me to teach them?”

  “Why not?” she replied. “People would love to take art classes from the woman behind those painted hearts.”

  Had Abigail forgotten what was still being said about her around town?

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Okay, but don’t think too long,” Abigail said. “Sometimes you have to stop thinking and just do.”

  “Is that what you did?” Evelyn asked. “With the store?”

  Abigail started down the stairs, motioning for Evelyn to follow. “Not exactly. I overanalyzed that situation for too many weeks.”

  Evelyn watched as Abigail steamed milk for two lattes.

  “But I learned that sometimes when we’re busy looking for open doors, we forget that the closed doors are just as important.” She handed a cup to Evelyn.

  Evelyn took a sip.

  “Sometimes the doors that close lead us to something better.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true when it comes to marriage.” She thought about what Christopher had told her about Trevor. She should’ve gone straight to Whit and demanded the truth, but she didn’t. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to know the truth. Instead, she’d been camping out in Gigi’s guest room for three weeks, under the old woman’s watchful eye.

  Trevor had called every day, and every day Evelyn ignored the calls, deleted the voice mails, and tried to stop reliving the moment he’d finally kissed her, then pushed her away.

  And while she’d decided there was a good chance Christopher was lying about Trevor helping him, there was still his rejection to sort out. His mixed signals. His unkind kindness. It would be easier to hate him if she still thought he was only a boorish, angry man with a grudge against the world, unhappy with the hand he’d been dealt.

  But he wasn’t any of those things.

  She shook the thought away. Regardless of whether he’d helped Christopher betray her, he had kept things from her. Important things she had a right to know. In some ways, that was harder to swallow. She’d been wrestling with her conflicting feelings for three straight weeks, wallowing in self-pity and wishing she could disappear from her life for a while.

  The fact that she even stood in The Paper Heart at all was something of a mystery. She certainly hadn’t wanted to get up that morning. Perhaps it was Gigi’s incessant knocking that had drawn her out of bed.

  “All I know is what happened to you was unfair and devastating,” Abigail said. “I felt like losing my store was unfair and devastating too.” She looked at Evelyn. “I know it’s wrong of me to compare the two, but that store was my whole life.”

  And Christopher had been Evelyn’s.

  “Losing it gave me the chance to start dreaming again.” She put a hand over Evelyn’s. “Maybe it’s time for you to do that too.”

  Evelyn stared at their hands on the counter. She’d been doing that for three weeks. Holed up in Gigi’s house, sketching, making lists, getting ideas. Dreaming of a life without a facade, free of expectations and obligations—caught up, instead, in whatever God had for her and hopeful that one day she could accept the gift of his grace.

  What she wouldn’t give to help Trevor and Lilian with the next community dinner. If plans held, it would be coming up soon—would they try to do it without her?

  Could she blame them if they did? She wasn’t taking Whit’s phone calls, so how would she know?

  The door opened with a start, drawing their attention.

  “Glory be! It’s cold out there,” Gigi said, rushing inside, Doris and Ursula close behind. “You girls ready to get to work?”

  “Doing what?” Evelyn took another sip while Abigail set about making drinks for each of the ladies and Tess, who had a knack for tardiness.

  “You didn’t tell her?” Doris stared at Gigi.

  “Probably didn’t want to hear her complain,” Ursula said, plopping down at a large table next to the counter. “Got any food back there, Pressman?”

  Abigail shot her a look. “I’ve only got two hands, Pembrooke.”

  Ursula frowned, eyes narrowing underneath bushy brows. Since the two had teamed up in business, they’d formed this odd, mutually sarcastic relationship. The others knew better than to get in the middle of it.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Evelyn asked. “Is this about the hearts? I only did the prototypes. They’re finished now.”

  Gigi and Doris exchanged a worried glance.

  “We have a job offer for you,” Gigi said.

  “Why?” Evelyn asked.

  “Because you’re broke.” Ursula set her elbows on the table. “Money is a great motivator.”

  “And I know you don’t want to sleep in my sewing room forever,” Gigi said.

  Well, that was true. Evelyn moved over to the table, where the others had begun to sit. “I’m listening.” As much as she hated to admit it, Ursula was right. She was broke. And while Abigail’s offer was a kind one, and something she would certainly consider, it wouldn’t provi
de enough to live on.

  Gigi smiled with her whole face like a child with a secret she couldn’t wait to tell. “The city is looking for an artist in residence,” she said, rummaging through her purse. She pulled out an envelope and slid it across the table toward Evelyn. “They want you. Apparently we aren’t the only ones who believe in your talent.”

  “I don’t understand,” Evelyn said. She peered at the walls of The Paper Heart. A variety of artists were represented, all different mediums. How would Evelyn ever compete with these people? It had been years since she’d painted seriously—and she had a lot of catching up to do.

  “Don’t do that,” Ursula said, mouth full of the blueberry muffin Abigail had set in front of her moments before.

  “Do what?” Evelyn asked.

  “Analyze it.” Ursula squinted at her. “Pressman does the same thing. Sometimes you have to stop thinking and just do.”

  Evelyn glanced at Abigail, who shrugged. “Told ya,” she said.

  “I’ll consider it,” Evelyn said.

  “Right, because you have so many other appealing offers.” Ursula popped another bite in her mouth.

  Doris and Gigi both chastised her for her honesty, but Evelyn found it refreshing. At least she knew Ursula would tell her the truth, which was more than she could say for Christopher. Or Whit, for that matter.

  The thought stung. She missed the peacefulness of the farm. She missed walking the perimeter, keeping her distance from the cows. She missed him. But none of that mattered now. He’d rejected her, kept things from her, and that was what she needed to remember—otherwise, she’d find herself hurt all over again.

  Maybe Trevor Whitney was the closed door Abigail was talking about.

  “What is there to think about anyway, Evelyn?” Gigi asked. “I’ve been authorized to make you this offer.”

  “Won’t other artists be interested?” Evelyn asked.

  “The committee asked for you,” Gigi said. “They were so impressed by what you did with the hearts and doubly impressed by the community dinner you organized and decorated for Mr. Whitney.”

  There had to be a catch. Evelyn knew firsthand how unpopular she was with committees in this town. She frowned. “Why all of a sudden does Loves Park need an artist in residence?”