Change of Heart (32 page)

“So what do we need to do before the painted hearts exhibit opens?” she asked.

Later that night, Evelyn stood in the lobby of the Loves Park Museum working up the courage to go inside. Thankfully Evelyn wouldn’t need to get on a stage, and according to Gigi, Trevor wouldn’t be in attendance.

Still, Evelyn would be asked about the artist-in-residence position. She would be expected to mingle. She needed to be kind, polite, and charming. It smacked of the life she’d left behind.

The outer door opened, cool air rushing in. She turned and saw Abigail with her fiancé, Dr. Jacob Willoughby. Her friend looked so happy, it was hard to believe that her own closed door had once seemed like the end of the world.

Would Evelyn ever feel that way about her old life? Would she ever look back, thankful for the pain she’d endured the day the FBI showed up at her door?

More importantly, would she ever find herself in the rubble left behind?

She’d tried to stop overanalyzing it all, as Ursula said, and simply pay attention to when she was comfortable and when she wasn’t, but she had trouble trusting herself, even when her guard was up.

“Evelyn?” Abigail moved toward her, Jacob close behind. “What are you doing out here? You’re the woman of the hour.”

Evelyn forced a smile. “Just working up the courage.”

“I’ll hang our coats,” Jacob said. “Then we’ll all go in together.”

Evelyn nodded. It would be preferable not to go it alone. She drew in a breath.

“You’re not going to have a panic attack, are you?”

For the first time, Evelyn realized it had been weeks since she’d taken her medication
 
—and the same length of time since she’d suffered an attack. In spite of her circumstances, she’d remained at peace.

Somehow she didn’t think it was a coincidence that her anxiety lessened when she started praying again.

“I’ve been thinking about what you told me,” Evelyn said.

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “What did I tell you?”

“Not to overthink everything.”

“You’ve been thinking about not overthinking?” Abigail grinned. “That’s a good strategy.”

Evelyn laughed.

“Ursula hangs around The Paper Heart a lot,” Abigail continued. “Sometimes she just randomly shouts advice like that at me while I’m trying to work. She’s brash, but she knows her stuff.”

Evelyn nodded.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Abigail said. “But why
did
you move out of the Whitneys’ guesthouse? My understanding was that Trevor let you live there for free. What’s really going on?”

But before she could answer, the door opened again, this time revealing an all-too-familiar silhouette. Trevor stopped, eyes glued to Evelyn. It had been weeks since they’d seen each other. Weeks since he’d rejected her, weeks since Christopher had told her he’d been a willing participant in her husband’s betrayal.

Now, standing there, stunned, she didn’t know how to feel. She’d told herself the time apart would clear her mind, but she was still waiting to find that elusive clarity.

When Jacob returned from the coatroom, he moved toward Whit, stretched out his hand, and said something about how good it was to see him.

“Are you okay?” Abigail whispered. “You look pale.”

Evelyn turned away. “I’m fine.”

Jacob and Whit approached, stealing Abigail’s attention and leaving Evelyn feeling exposed. “We can all go in together,” Jacob said. “It’s probably going to be a bunch of blue-hairs in there anyway.”

“I resent that, Dr. Willoughby,” Gigi said, appearing as if from thin air. “It’s us blue-hairs that keep you in business.” She opened the door to the gallery. “Hurry up, you slowpokes.” And just like that, she was gone.

Abigail giggled, linking arms with her good doctor. “She told you.”

Jacob and Abigail moved together, in unison, in a way Evelyn and Christopher never had. They were equally in love. One of them wasn’t working harder than the other.

Was it wrong of her to wish for that? Regret twisted through her, wrapping itself around her heart. With Jacob and Abigail in front of them, Trevor and Evelyn also fell into step.

As they moved into the dimly lit gallery, his hand brushed against hers and the memory of his kiss haunted her mind.

“I’ve been calling you,” he said, walking through the crowd, face forward.

Mayor Jensen Thompkins approached them. “It’s so good to have you both here. You’ve breathed new life into our little tradition. And, Evelyn, we are so thrilled to have you as our artist in residence. We have big plans for you.”

Evelyn avoided Trevor’s eyes. “Actually, Mayor Thompkins, I haven’t officially accepted that position.”

He regarded her for a long moment. “Well, I’m afraid if it isn’t you, we won’t have the money to work with, and we’ve already begun brainstorming the areas where we could use your artistic skill. Someone suggested painting the ugly electrical boxes around town. The metal ones on the street corners. And someone else was hoping for painted pianos all throughout Old Town.”

Trevor towered over both of them, and while he pretended not to listen, Evelyn had the distinct feeling he was paying attention.

“There are so many artists in town. I’m sure any one of them would jump at this chance,” Evelyn said.

“I’m sure. Which is why it’s positively baffling that you’re still thinking about it.” The mayor squinted at her. “The anonymous benefactor who is supplying the funds to make this position possible was very clear. He or she wanted it to be you. Or nobody. Please don’t let it be nobody, Mrs. Brandt.”

She shook his hand, and he walked away, but he’d done nothing to shed light on any of this.

“What was that all about?” Trevor asked.

She met his eyes, but then Christopher’s words rushed back at her.
“He’s known from the beginning, and he never said a word.”

She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was better off alone.

On the other side of the room, she spotted Ursula, wearing a long skirt with a long tunic top and a pair of running shoes. “Will you excuse me?”

Trevor put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Before you go, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

She forced herself to be brave. “We really don’t have anything to discuss, Whit.”

“It’s important.”

“What do you want to tell me? That you knew the truth about Christopher all along and never bothered to say a single word to me about it?”

For a split second, he looked like someone had smacked him across the face.

So it was true. The realization stung. Christopher had been lying for as long as she’d known him, but this time she would’ve preferred he not tell her the truth.

She forced herself to pretend not to care, though inside, her heart was breaking. “I know all about it already, so if you came to apologize, you’re too late.”

“You’ve got to let me explain,” he said.

An ache formed deep in the back of her throat. “I can’t believe I actually thought you might be different.” Evelyn raised her chin as if that would make her appear stronger. “You really had me fooled, but the truth is, you’re just like Christopher. You’re all the same.”

Evelyn felt a hand on her shoulder. “There are a few people who would like to speak with the artist,” Gigi said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Whitney.”

Trevor shook his head. “It’s fine, Mrs. Monroe. I shouldn’t have come.” He walked away, leaving Evelyn standing there, on the verge of a full-on panic attack, and yet, with Gigi’s hand to steady her, her pulse began to slow.

“What’s going on, Evie?” Gigi asked, her voice quiet.

Evelyn faced her. “First, you.”

The old woman frowned. “Me what?”

“Tell me the truth. Was it you and Ursula who concocted this artist-in-residence plan? The mayor told me whoever is funding it requires that I be the artist. That hardly seems right.”

“Why ever not?” Gigi asked. “Look around. Your art is exciting. It gets people talking.”

For a moment, Evelyn allowed herself to scan the crowd. Gigi was right. People
were
excited. So excited they were already ordering their own painted hearts. The plan had worked
 
—a tradition that had nearly been forgotten was reborn, and Evelyn had a lot to do with that.

Evelyn and Whit.

She turned back to Gigi. “You didn’t answer my question. I know Ursula is richer than the queen of Sheba.”

“That might be true, dear, but I can assure you, this was not our doing. We do think it’s perfect timing, and frankly, we’re happy to put you to work, but we are not the ones footing the bill.”

Evelyn frowned. “Then who would do this for me?”

“The senator?”

Evelyn shook her head. “No. He’s living on a fixed income that amounts to almost nothing, at least by his standards. Besides, he’s got himself believing I’m the bad guy. He would never do something like this.”

“Well, I don’t know then,” Gigi said. “Ask the mayor if you want. Or just be thankful someone had the good sense to believe in your dreams. Goodness knows you certainly don’t.”

Evelyn’s only response was silence.

“Now, what in the world is going on with you and Mr. Whitney?”

Evelyn sighed. As if she had any idea how to answer that question. But she could tell by the look on Gigi’s face that anything but the truth wasn’t going to satisfy the old woman.

CHAPTER

T
REVOR WALKED A CIRCLE
in the parking lot outside the Loves Park Museum. He hadn’t even walked through the exhibit, his shame and regret too heavy to carry under Evelyn’s watchfulness.

Actually, that wasn’t right. Evelyn appeared to be watching everyone except him. In fact, she didn’t seem at all interested in anything he had to say.

She already knew. He should’ve told her days ago. Years ago. What an idiot!

Trevor started back toward the door but lost his nerve halfway there. He turned around, avoiding the stares of a young couple walking toward the building. He probably looked like a lunatic with all his back-and-forthing. He should leave. He should go home to the farm, where it was quiet and Evelyn was nowhere to be seen.

But then, the farm was quiet. And Evelyn was nowhere to be seen.

Was he going to roll over just like that? Let her believe whatever lies Chris had fed her?

Oh no. What exactly had Chris told her? Could it be even worse than the truth? And how could he just let her go on believing it?

He had to tell her the truth. The real truth.

“Whit?” Casey hurried toward him, Marin right behind. “What are you doing out here, man?”

Trevor shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Did you tell her?” Marin’s voice was hopeful. She’d been married so long she’d forgotten how miserable falling in love could be.

“Didn’t get a chance,” Trevor said. “Chris got to her first.”

Casey clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, man.”

“Yeah. She never wants to see me again.” Trevor turned toward his truck. “I’m just going to go home.”

“Don’t be a coward,” Marin said. She moved around him, planted her feet, and stared him down, barely reaching his shoulders. “What have you got to lose?”

Trevor stared out into the darkness of Old Town.

Marin waited until he finally glanced at her. “If she never wants to see you again, then you have nothing to lose.” She took a step toward him, eyes angled upward, forcing his gaze. “Stop hiding your feelings, Whit, and go after what you want.”

He glanced at Casey, who offered nothing but a half shrug.

Marin started for the museum door, then stopped, turned back, and stared at Trevor. “Well?”

He kicked a rock beneath his feet and began moving in her direction.

Marin was right. He didn’t have to stand back and watch his life happen in front of him. He could actually become a part of it every now and then.

Besides, she was only saying what he already knew. He had no reason not to tell Evelyn the truth. And he wouldn’t find a bit of peace until he did.

He drew in a deep breath and followed Casey and Marin to the door. As he walked through, Trevor suddenly felt the stranglehold of his collared shirt, too tight for his neck.

“You look like you’re going to puke,” Casey said, taking Marin’s coat.

“That’s about right,” Trevor said.

Marin put a hand on his arm. “You really love her, don’t you?”

Trevor ignored the question. The last thing he needed was Casey’s wife romanticizing his feelings for Evelyn. They weren’t romantic. They were pathetic. And the only reason he was standing there at all was because he didn’t want her taking Chris’s word on everything he’d done, even if it was accurate. If anyone was going to explain the truth, it was going to be him.

Why, then, did he feel like he might lose his dinner?

Trevor opened the door to the gallery and walked inside. The crowd had grown in the twenty minutes he’d been outside, and as he searched for Evelyn, the occasional pat on the back or “Good job” required his attention.

In a corner, away from the crowd, Evelyn sat at the center of a small group of women. The older ladies who seemed intent on ruining his life caught his attention as he approached, and the closer he got, the clearer it became that they weren’t happy with him.

What have I got to lose?
he reminded himself. He didn’t care what these women thought anyway. It had always only been Evelyn’s opinion that mattered to him.

He reached the table and stood for a long moment. “Evie?”

Five pairs of eyes darted from her to him and back again. His stayed fixed on Evelyn, who barely moved.

“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.