“Can we talk?”
“Oh, Trevor,” Doris said, standing. “I’m so disappointed in you.”
He drew in a deep breath. “Evie, I only need five minutes.”
Finally Evelyn turned. “Fine. You have three.”
“Can we go somewhere else?” He looked around the circle of women staring at him. “Please?”
She stood, then without a word, moved past him through the crowd and out into the lobby. As if pulled by a magnetic force, he followed, working out in his mind what he might actually say to her once they were alone.
Not a single word came to mind.
She led him through the lobby to an empty room off to one side—an exhibit that had been closed for the evening—and for a brief moment, he thought the crowd would’ve been less intimidating.
When she finally stopped moving and faced him, she nearly knocked the wind out of him. In this light, in that red dress, hair pinned off to one side, her beauty was enough to make him buckle.
But the icy look on her face pulled his head out of the clouds. She was angry. And rightfully so. He’d pushed her away. He’d failed to be up-front when that was what she needed the most. He’d loved her the wrong way.
How did he fix that?
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. But what have I got to lose?
“Great. Can I get back to my friends now?” Evelyn didn’t move, just stood in front of him, looking painfully beautiful and somewhat displaced. “I don’t really have anything to say to you anyway.”
He saw the pain in her face. His rejection had hurt her. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to add insult to injury. What if what he had to say hurt her even more?
“Would you let me explain?”
She put her hands on her hips. “I can’t read all of your mixed signals. The night we met, I thought you might turn out to be someone really special in my life. And you were my best friend for so long.”
The words scratched at him, years of regret stinging his skin like a swarm of hornets.
“But after I got married, I saw only glimpses of that boy. It was like you traded in this kind personality for one that got colder and more distant with every year.”
“I didn’t behave well, I know.”
She laughed. “Then you came to my rescue when this whole mess with Christopher blew up in my face, and in a moment of weakness, I threw myself at you. You rejected me flat.”
“I was there, Evie. I don’t think we need to relive this.”
“But we do. Because a few weeks later I find out you’ve been purchasing wooden hearts anonymously in my honor. For years.”
He forced himself not to look away.
“Years.” Her voice trembled, but she found her resolve. “And I thought maybe I could overlook that. Maybe it was even romantic.”
“Please, let me say this before I lose my nerve—”
“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Whit. I don’t need you to let me down easy or whatever you’ve got planned. I’m fine. I just need to move on with my life.”
He stopped her as she passed by, intent on walking away from him for good. With his hand on her arm, he stood still, facing the opposite direction from Evelyn, her nearness threatening his courage.
She tensed at his touch. “Just let me go.”
He closed his eyes. “I’ve loved you since that first night I met you.”
Evelyn relaxed slightly, but he didn’t—or couldn’t—look at her.
“There was something special between us, but I was a farmer’s kid and Chris was the rich son of a real estate mogul. I could offer you a pickup truck and he could offer you the moon. I couldn’t give you the life you deserved, and I knew it.”
She didn’t move or speak. She just stayed at his side.
He studied the floor. “Chris knew how I felt, but when he got you in his sights, I realized I didn’t have a chance.”
“Why did you think that? Do you think I’m so shallow I only care about power and cars?” She turned to him.
He didn’t move. “Chris was Chris, and I was me.”
“You should have given me a chance to decide, Trevor.”
Really? “I almost told you how I felt once. That night in the music room when I played ‘The Very Thought of You’ for you. The night Chris walked in.” Had she felt the tension between them that night, or had he only imagined she did?
“But you acted like you hated me for so long,” she said quietly.
“It was easier that way. Being your friend was the most wonderful, horrible thing I ever did.”
She stepped in front of him. “So the hearts—that was, what?”
“My one indulgence. Just for me. Made me feel better somehow. Reminded me there was someone out there worth loving. Even if I couldn’t have her.”
“I never knew, Trevor,” she whispered.
“I’m not finished,” he said. He raised his head until their eyes met.
“This is the part that’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” she asked.
He nodded, drew in a breath. “I want you to know that anything I ever did or didn’t do, I did for you. Because I never wanted to risk seeing you hurt. But also . . . because I was afraid.”
“Just say it,” she said.
“You were right. I did know about the women. I did cover for Chris—many times.”
“Like the night I surprised him at that restaurant in Dillon? That woman. She was . . . ?”
“Not my girlfriend.”
She stood unmoving, blinked twice, and then slapped him—hard—across the face.
He grabbed her hand. “Listen to me. If I had told you then, you would’ve hated me. Chris would’ve talked his way out of it—told you how I felt about you and made me seem like a liar.”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“You know it too.”
She looked away.
“Or you would’ve believed me, and then I would always be the guy who gave you the news that broke your heart.”
“Your decision wasn’t about me, Whit,” she said, tearing up. “It was about you. You were afraid my reaction would hurt you, so you didn’t tell me the truth.”
Silence was his only response.
“Well, congratulations, Trevor. You made me love you before showing me who you really are.” She wiped her cheeks dry. “And for that, I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”
He reached for her, but she was just out of grasp, and within seconds, she’d vanished from the room—and probably from his life—forever.
CHAPTER
42
IT HAD BEEN A MONTH since the night Evelyn walked out of the museum, certain her anger toward Trevor Whitney would never, ever subside.
At least she’d been right about that.
She paced around the loft in The Paper Heart, admiring the work of her students. It was her second workshop that week, and both had been full. This artist-in-residence thing had its perks. After she rejected the benefactor’s money and made it clear to the mayor she worked only on her own terms, she’d agreed to take the position.
“There’s not money in the budget without the benefactor,” he’d told her.
“I will raise the money myself,” Evelyn said. “With each event or fund-raiser, I’ll propose a modest wage from those I’m serving, but I won’t be anyone’s charity case.”
He almost looked impressed with her, and she had to admit, it felt good to be the one calling the shots for once. Never mind that there were days she did wish she had the security of a steady paycheck. Still, she was making her own way, doing something she loved that also helped to pay back the city her husband had stolen from. And it seemed her community was finally beginning to forgive her.
What more could she ask for, really?
“Miss Evie?” A girl named Sadie raised her hand. “Can you show me how to draw her hair?”
Evelyn smiled, then knelt beside Sadie, sketching examples that would be perfec
t for her version of Peaceful Girl in Boat, the painting Evelyn had walked them through, step-by-step.
“Evelyn?” Abigail stood at the top of the stairs. “We’re ready for you when you’re finished.”
“Five more minutes.”
After the last student walked out, Evelyn stacked her sketches together and piled them in her sketchbook, but not before catching a glimpse of a nearly perfect illustration of Silly Lily putting lipstick on her dog, Beefcake. She smiled. Sometimes when she worked in that sketchbook, she thought of the day Trevor had given it to her. He’d practically tossed it at her, he was so uncomfortable showing his kind side. More than once, she almost threw it away, but it now represented the closed door that led her here, to a place where she’d begun to find happiness. It was as if God had set her up perfectly, knowing she’d find her purpose eventually. He’d been so patient with her while she figured it out. She still had a lot to learn, but one thing was certain: God could take even her deepest pain and turn it into something beautiful.
When she joined Abigail downstairs, she was taken aback to find not only the other Valentine Volunteers but Georgina Saunders, Susan Hayes, and Lydia Danvers. They hadn’t been to any of these artist-in-residence meetings—what were they doing here?
After a brief hitch in her step, Evelyn forced herself to keep walking until she reached the large table.
Mayor Thompkins shook her hand. “So good to see you again, Evelyn. I trust you’ve been busy.”
She held up her sketchbook. “I have what you asked for.” Sketches for the mural in the children’s wing of the hospital. She’d worked hard on them, and she’d even come up with ideas that excited her. How long had it been since she’d been excited about anything?
“Wonderful.” He turned to the group. “Shall we begin?”
Evelyn moved to the other side of the table and sat.
“My, you certainly have embraced your free spirit, Evelyn,” Georgina said. “Too much time out on Whitney Farms, I would say.”
The other ladies laughed. Evelyn glanced at Abigail, who scowled at the pompous old woman.
Evelyn smoothed the peasant blouse over her jeans, hugging her loose sweater around her midsection. Had it been only moments ago she’d felt more herself than she had her entire adult life? Why did the presence of these three women threaten to take that feeling away from her?
“How have you been since they seized your home?” Georgina’s question, shrouded in the cover of worry, niggled at Evelyn. Christopher’s crimes had finally caught up to them these past few weeks.
She lifted her chin. “I’ve never been better.” Oddly, it wasn’t a lie.
Georgina raised a brow. “Seems a rather callous response now that your ex-husband is surely on his way to prison.”
“Well, we all know what the Good Book says,” Gigi said, obviously trying to steer the conversation. Gigi was wonderful, but she was no match for Georgina—and Evelyn knew it.
“Love your enemy?” Georgina wore a trying smile.
“You reap what you sow.” Gigi folded her hands. “So shall we discuss what we’re actually here to discuss?”
Mayor Thompkins cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, the mural.” He turned to Evelyn. “What a wonderful new project for our artist in residence.”
Evelyn smiled. “I’m excited about the project, but I am quite busy with the painted hearts. With all the publicity and the new design, we’ve nearly doubled the number of hearts to be painted this year, and Valentine’s Day is only a couple months away.”
Georgina scoffed. “And you’re painting them all yourself?”
“No, of course not,” Evelyn said. “Not all of them. But I am overseeing the other artists.”
Georgina waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air as if brushing away a cobweb. “I don’t understand why we can’t find a different artist for this mural project, Mayor Thompkins.”
He frowned. “Evelyn does a beautiful job, Georgina. This is the very reason we have an artist in residence.”
She squinted across the table at Evelyn. “Yes, tell us about that. How did that position come to be? I didn’t see any applications.”
Evelyn stilled. Even she had no idea how it happened. She continued to suspect Ursula or one of the other Volunteers, but she’d had no luck in proving it, and Gigi didn’t lie well. Something told her that if one of them was behind it, she’d have found out by now.
“That’s really not why we’re here,” the mayor said. “Didn’t you have ideas for the mural?”
“Of course I have ideas,” Georgina said. “But I’m not sure a criminal’s wife who may or may not have stolen money from our city is the person to carry out those ideas. Besides—” she narrowed her gaze on Evelyn—“do we even know if she’s really that great of an artist?”
The words stung, pulling Evelyn back to all the times she’d been humiliated, rejected, and put in her place by these ladies. Even when she was one of them, she was always striving to be more. It had only been in recent months she’d even realized how much time she’d wasted working so hard to be liked by people who didn’t like anyone but themselves.
Why did their opinions matter to her at all?
Her heart began to speed up—only slightly, but a warning signal that maybe she should get out of there. She wouldn’t recover from the embarrassment of a panic attack. Not in front of this group.
Georgina stared at her as if waiting for a response to a question Evelyn didn’t know she had asked.
Evelyn stared back for a long moment, and the words came to her like a whisper. Be anxious for nothing. Her soul clung to the idea that she, of all people, could ever not be anxious. It was a verse she’d found only a few weeks before, when she was putting the finishing touches on her painting of the girl in the boat. A girl she’d sketched at least twenty times, a girl who’d stopped searching for peace and purpose because she’d found them.
Evelyn glanced down at her hands, the image of them pulling weeds in the Whitneys’ garden rushing at her, reminding her of those small compromises she’d made through the years and how they’d turned her into someone she didn’t like or ever want to become again.
But wasn’t she becoming the girl in the boat? Couldn’t she experience a peace and a newfound sense of purpose in using her gifts to better the city, to encourage children, to do what she loved?
Rest in me.
God loved her for who she was—not because she was smart or beautiful or talented. Just because she was his.
She owed it to the Lord, and to herself, to focus only on his opinion and not to allow Georgina or Christopher or anyone else to steal her focus again.
“Evelyn, are you okay?” Gigi reached over and put a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m fine, Gigi. Thank you.” She smiled.
The mayor—the only man in the room—quickly surveyed the others at the table as if unsure whether he should proceed. He’d clearly lost control of his own meeting. “About that mural . . .”
“It’s for the children’s wing of the hospital,” Georgina reminded them.
“That’s perfect given Evelyn’s whimsical style,” Gigi said.
“There are a lot of hospital donors who are going to want to approve of these plans, Mayor Thompkins.” Georgina’s face was firm.
As if her body had been taken over by an outside force, Evelyn stood. “I would love to do the mural for the children’s wing of the hospital. I already have several ideas of what we could do and how we could involve not only trained artists, as Georgina suggests, but children. Children whose hearts are pure and loving and kind. Children who never seem to hold a grudge or judge one another. At least not until they see adults doing those things.”
Georgina’s eyes widened.
“But I will only agree to do this project on one condition.” She squared her jaw, aiming her gaze at Georgina’s. “I have the final say.” Even Evelyn couldn’t believe she’d spoken the words aloud. “I’m a talented artist, Georgina, whether you w
ant to believe it or not. I studied for years, and while I wish I hadn’t taken such a long break from painting, I have every confidence I can create a mural the hospital, the doctors, the donors, and the patients will all love. I’m happy to do this as part of my artist-in-residence duties; however, I will not be micromanaged.”
She slid her folder of sketches toward the mayor. “Feel free to look over my ideas and let me know what you think. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some hearts to paint.”
CHAPTER
43
TREVOR HAD JUST RETURNED from welcoming Casey and Marin’s baby, a surprise for everyone since it wasn’t a boy after all. He didn’t hold the little girl but congratulated his friends, then left the hospital with an aching sense that there were some very important things missing in his life.
He’d finished sweeping out Dusty’s stall when he heard a car kicking up gravel outside. He moved toward the door of the stables and spotted Gigi Monroe’s enormous Buick ambling up the hill. If only he hadn’t parked his truck outside the stables, he might’ve had the perfect hiding place.
He considered making a run out the back, but he knew Gigi well enough to be sure she wasn’t leaving until she got what she came for. And as she stepped out of her car, he had a feeling whatever she came for involved him.
When Doris and Ursula appeared on the other side of the car, he nearly ran for the hills after all. Gigi he could handle, but the three of them together? He’d rather wear a suit and tie and parade himself down Main Street.
He stood at the entrance to the stables, watching as the women approached him. Gigi gave Trevor a knowing nod. Why did he feel like he was about to be reprimanded for something he didn’t even realize he’d done?
When she reached him, she shoved a plastic container his way. “I made you some cookies. Snickerdoodles. Those are my favorite.”
He took the cookies. “Thanks.”
Ursula nudged him. “You gonna share?”
He handed her the container.
“Those aren’t for you,” Gigi said. “If I wanted you to have those, I would’ve given them to you in the car.”
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