He said nothing as he processed the way the nearness of her twisted his insides. She walked back to Chris, who stood waiting for her at the car. He leaned in and kissed her, then met Trevor’s glare as if to claim his prize, as if to make sure Trevor knew Chris had won.
In the end, Trevor was right—everything had changed. It had to. Trevor stayed home to run the farm and Chris turned Evelyn into the trophy wife he’d always wanted. Over the years, the gap between them had widened as Trevor Whitney removed himself further and further from the world of Chris and Evelyn Brandt. He wasn’t strong enough to fully stop loving her, so he walked away.
He hadn’t stopped praying for her, though. Or for Chris. He prayed daily that God would get ahold of Chris in the way only he could, that his friend would straighten up and live a right life—if not for himself, then for Evelyn.
Eventually, those prayers became more infrequent as he simply stopped seeing the Brandts.
Evelyn had taken his departure from her life personally, but he played the part of an irritated ex–best friend well. She could never know the truth.
Now, sitting in the silence of his kitchen, Evelyn’s presence lingering in the air, he saw how stupid he’d been for so many years. This infatuation he had with Evelyn had kept him from moving on with his own life. She was the yardstick by which he measured every other woman, and it had to stop. In Maggie, he’d met someone worth knowing, and he owed it to himself to see where that might lead.
He’d go with Evelyn to see Chris, but only because he had some questions of his own. After that, it was time for Trevor Whitney to move on. Once and for all.
CHAPTER
12
EVELYN SAT IN THE PASSENGER SEAT of Whit’s truck, staring out the window and worrying. Going to visit Christopher had seemed like a good idea right up until they began to see exit signs for Denver. She’d spent her life in the dark, and now that she was about to shine a light on the truth, she knew why. Not knowing was easier somehow. But it also made her a prisoner, and she wanted freedom more than she wanted comfort.
Christopher’s hearing was just around the corner, and so far the media circus continued. Thankfully, though, it seemed no one was aware of where she was staying. How they’d managed to keep that a secret still baffled her. Would the press ever lose interest in the story?
Whit was quiet, as usual. She glanced at him, eyes fixed on the road ahead, jaw twitching like it did when he was deep in thought. If only she knew what he was thinking—ever. Mostly, when it came to Trevor, she had to fill in the blanks. He’d never talked about himself, not even in college when she’d considered him one of her best friends. Not even when his father’s health put an end to his own college career and landed him back in Loves Park, which, she knew, wasn’t part of his original plan. As the oldest of the three Whitney kids, he’d taken the burden of running the family business while life went on as planned for both his brother and sister.
But that was Whit. Always doing what was best for everyone else.
So different from Christopher, she realized now. Not that it was fair to compare. Christopher had many good qualities, though most of those were overshadowed by the pain he’d caused her.
“Thanks again for coming with me,” Evelyn said absently. “I hope Maggie understood.”
He didn’t respond.
“You did call her, didn’t you?”
“Not yet.”
“She seems sweet.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, she does.”
She looked at him. “Just because my marriage is falling apart doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for you if you’ve found someone, Trevor.”
He gave her a quick glance. “A few cups of coffee and a lunch isn’t ‘finding someone.’”
“Fair enough.” She went back to watching the landscape pass by the window. “But there is the promise of someone.”
“There’s never a promise,” Whit said. “Only a hope.”
That was true, she supposed. What was it Whit hoped for? Whatever it was—whoever it was—he deserved it. He’d always been one of the best men she’d ever known, even when they were teenagers, when boys were notoriously foolish. Trevor Whitney walked the straight and narrow, put other people first, and despite his crabbiness, had a heart that always had room to give more.
She’d been living on his property for only a couple of weeks, but his work ethic astounded her. Despite its small staff of about ten people, the farm required long hours—many of them grueling.
She hadn’t quite figured out how everything at Whitney Farms worked, but the little bits she’d observed intrigued her.
“You seem to have settled into quite a routine at the farm,” she said, figuring a change of subject was in order. “It’s so peaceful out there.”
Whit tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. “It has its perks.”
“You have cows.”
He looked at her, amusement in his eyes.
“I mean, obviously.” She folded her hands in her lap. Changing the subject wasn’t as easy as it used to be.
“We have horses too.”
She smiled, knowing he was making fun of her. “They scare me.”
He frowned. “They’re gentle. I promise.”
“I didn’t know you had cows, is what I was trying to say.” She’d spent time at Whitney Farms in high school and college, but she didn’t remember many animals—just a few stray cats and a dog named Sugar.
“Farming isn’t what it used to be,” Trevor said, focusing on the road. “We have pretty good success with our vegetables. Lilian makes sure there are no pesticides, and people at the farmers’ markets love that. We do a lot of markets all over the state and up in Wyoming sometimes.”
She had the distinct impression there was more to this farming thing than she ever realized. How difficult to maintain something so important in a world that had become reliant on prepackaged, instant gratification.
“But we needed a boost, so I started researching cattle. My dad always said they were more trouble than they were worth, but I liked the idea of giving people an alternative to what they can buy in the supermarket. Now we provide grass-fed beef to over a hundred local families and ten different restaurants in the area.”
She stilled. “So you take care of all those cows just to kill them.”
He tossed a glance across the cab of the truck. “Is this going to turn into a debate?”
She smiled. “No. It’s just sad, isn’t it? Doesn’t seem to be much of a life.”
He fixed his eyes back on the road. “They have an important purpose.”
“Blindly going along with the rest of the herd? Every day a little closer to death?” She shook her head. “Not much of a purpose.”
He shrugged. “I guess that’s what makes them different from us. We get to choose if we want to add purpose to our days.”
She didn’t know how to respond. If he hadn’t meant it as a dig against her, it certainly came across that way. Trevor had made it pretty clear a long time ago he didn’t hold her in very high regard, and listening to him talk about his farm, she began to see the vast differences between their life choices. To him, it must look like she hadn’t worked a day in her life. Just another human being sucking up whatever she could out of this world. Still, it had hurt, losing him as a friend. He’d always been so kind to her, and despite what he thought of her life now, he’d come to her aid. Oh, he was still irritable, but maybe that was just his way.
She had a feeling there was much more going on with Trevor Whitney than he would ever whisper to a single soul.
“What are you going to say to him?”
Whit’s question caught her off guard. “I’m not sure. I heard on the news that if I’m innocent, I’ll file for divorce.”
He said nothing.
She hugged herself tightly. As if that could comfort her. “I guess I’m waiting to talk to him before I make up my mind.”
“You think he might be innocent?” His tone didn’t mock. It
was a valid question.
Unwanted tears sprang to her eyes. Only a fool would think that. In her heart of hearts, she knew her husband was as guilty as the FBI said. He was obviously a cheater—was it that much of a stretch to believe he was also a liar and a thief? Maybe a part of her had known on some level for a long time. Christopher always seemed to be putting on a show for someone—even when it was just the two of them.
Whit didn’t push her to respond. Thankfully. Instead, they drove the rest of the way in silence and reached Christopher’s Denver apartment in record time. He parked the truck in the visitors’ lot around the corner, but neither of them moved.
“This is the right place?” He looked at her.
She unfolded the little slip of paper she’d pressed into a ball in her fist and reread Christopher’s address. So this was where he stayed when he wasn’t home. She shuddered to think of all he’d hidden from her behind those four walls.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” she said.
Trevor turned off the engine and stared out the window. “Well, you’re not alone.”
He didn’t look at her.
“Thanks for coming with me.”
“You already thanked me.”
Evelyn stared at her hands, wrapped around the handles of a much-too-expensive purse. “I don’t have a lot of friends right now.”
She found her words equal parts pathetic and annoying. How had she gone ten whole years making acquaintances and no friends? Everything had always been about Christopher.
They got out and walked toward the front door. Casey had explained that Christopher would have a hearing, which he thought was scheduled for the next day. Evelyn didn’t pretend to understand it all, but according to Casey, one thing was clear. When everything was over, prison was very likely.
“He’s going to want you at his side,” Casey had told her. “It looks better if the public knows the people who love him haven’t abandoned him.”
She’d wrestled with that—her sense of duty in direct conflict with her emotions. Finally she’d decided she needed to see Christopher in person before she could ever hope to decide on her next step.
Now, though, walking toward the building where her lying, cheating husband had chosen to live instead of coming home to face her, she had second thoughts.
As they neared the door, it happened. First one click, then another; then a cameraman emerged from inside a van—all of them running in her direction. They seemed to pick up additional reporters on the way, like tumbleweeds rolling across a dry desert, and before she knew what had happened, a small crowd approached. Had they been lying in wait? Did they know to expect her there?
Would they ever tire of this story?
She glanced at Whit, who wore his standard irritated expression. For a moment, she wondered if it was her he was annoyed with. But then he put a protective arm around her, pulling her closer as if to ward off the enemy all on his own. “Just keep your head down and don’t stop moving.”
The questions started rapid-fire, like ammunition from an automatic weapon.
“Mrs. Brandt, are you involved with your husband’s fraud?”
“Do you know where he hid the money?”
“Did you know your husband was cheating?”
“Are you and this man having an affair?”
Evelyn spun around and came face-to-face with the woman who’d asked that last question. “How dare you.”
“Mrs. Brandt, who is this man you’re with?”
Trevor’s grasp on her tightened as he led her away and finally deposited her inside the building. The exchange had seemed to rattle even him. “You okay?”
She begged the tears to stay away. “They’re treating me like a cheater, like a criminal.”
He stood a few feet away, watching her. “You’ve got to ignore them.”
Evelyn looked out the window and into the flashing lights of the cameras. “What a mess.” Her heart rate kicked up. “What a disaster.”
She saw him shift out of the corner of her eye, but then he went blurry. Her breathing became labored and she stumbled backward, leaning against the wall. “How could he do this to me?”
Evelyn’s head started to spin, leaving her dizzy and unsteady on her feet.
“You okay?” He moved toward her, helping her to a chair in a nearby lobby. “What’s going on, Ev?”
Her breaths came too quickly now and she couldn’t respond, her heart racing inside her chest.
I’ll never be good enough.
She’d striven her whole life to earn love. As a child, she’d worked so hard to prove she was worthy of her father’s approval, but she always came up short. Somehow she’d fooled herself into believing if she did exactly what Christopher asked, it would be different with him.
But she’d never met his expectations either.
And now everyone in the world knew it. They all knew she wasn’t enough for her own husband.
Trevor sat down next to her and leaned in close. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe the irritated look on his face had gone away, genuine concern in its place. “Evelyn? What’s wrong?” He took her hand in his. She squeezed it—hard. “Hey, it’s going to be all right,” he said. “Just breathe.”
His words hung overhead until finally, after a long moment, her breathing returned to normal. But her eyes had filled with tears again. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Trevor stayed there for a few more seconds as if assessing whether or not she was actually okay; then he stood, that familiar troubled look appearing on his face. He stared out the window. “You’re so much stronger than you think you are, Evie.”
His words drew her eyes upward.
Her? Strong? When had he lost his mind?
“I don’t feel strong,” she said. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I don’t know if I can look him in the face after everything he’s done.”
He didn’t respond. Probably didn’t know what to say, he was so filled with pity for the shell of a person she’d become. Even she was annoyed with herself. She took a very deep breath and pushed herself to her feet. She’d come this far—she couldn’t leave now. Besides, she deserved the truth.
No matter how much it hurt.
“All right, let’s get this over with.”
He didn’t move. “Are you sure?” The chip had obviously taken up residence on his shoulder. “You didn’t tell me the attacks were back.”
She shrugged. “It’s a recent occurrence.”
His stare unnerved her. She pressed her lips together, wishing she were back home, in bed. But then she remembered she didn’t really have a home anymore and even her bed would likely end up in some government auction. As if selling their things could repay Christopher’s debt.
Evelyn went through the motions of getting on the elevator, pressing the number eight, and riding in silence to the floor where her husband now lived.
The elevator opened, depositing them on the eighth floor, and without thinking, she marched toward apartment 813 and knocked. Hard.
As they heard the lock turning, Whit stiffened, then looked at her. “You okay?”
She nodded, but inside, she felt anything but okay. Christopher appeared in the doorway wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. Whiskers covered his usually clean-shaven face, no trace left of the well-groomed rich kid she’d married all those years ago.
At the sight of her, though, something shifted. His face brightened. “Evelyn?”
She didn’t move.
Confusion skittered across his face. “What are you doing here?”
She choked back the tears she’d wadded up and stuffed at the base of her belly. “I came for the truth.”
He glanced at Whit, then back to her. “How are you holding up?” He spoke in gentle tones as if not to upset her.
“My husband has been arrested. My home has been invaded. My innocence has been questioned. My dignity has been stolen. And you couldn’t even be bothered to call me.”
He sigh
ed. “You don’t understand, Evelyn. I’ve been working on something. I’m handling this.” He reached for her hand, but she yanked it away.
Anger smacked across Christopher’s face. She wasn’t behaving the way he wanted, and that never went over well, but she couldn’t pretend. Not this time.
“Come in. Let’s talk about this.”
Evelyn swallowed, but her throat was dry. Did she really want to see where he’d been living? Did she want to know what kind of existence he’d chosen over the beautiful life she thought they’d built back home?
Slowly she took a step into the apartment. There was nothing lavish about it, though it did seem to have all the required amenities. He certainly didn’t want for anything, in spite of his circumstances.
They stood awkwardly in the foyer; then Christopher looked at Whit. “Can you give me a minute alone with my wife?”
At first, Whit didn’t move, just glared at Christopher like he wanted to rip his throat out. But after a few long, testosterone-filled seconds, he moved farther into the living room while Christopher led her toward the kitchen. The open floor plan allowed her to see that even though Whit was no longer within earshot, he was still watching as if somehow he could protect her from Christopher’s weapon of choice: manipulation.
For once, she was prepared for him. Or so she thought.
Evelyn caught a glimpse of Christopher’s tightened lips, but he quickly recovered when they were alone.
“You look good,” Christopher said, motioning for her to sit down at the kitchen table. How had she not noticed it before? The way he switched emotions so quickly to get what he wanted? He was a master at it—she could see that now.
Sadness hovered above her, waiting to descend. Was she so foolish to think there was any possibility of a positive outcome to this meeting?
Evelyn set her jaw. “What do you have to say for yourself, Christopher?”
He waved her off. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see. No way they can prove I did anything wrong. I’ll be back before you know it.”
She stared at him, his arrogance spilling out on the table and driving a wedge between them.
Change of Heart Page 9
