Change of Heart

by Courtney Walsh

  “He never cheated on me.”

  Images of Christopher and those women flashed through her mind. Barely dressed. Smiling at the camera. As if they had nothing to be ashamed of. The memory of his nonchalance about the whole thing had chipped away at her resolve to stay strong. It was as though he didn’t even realize the pain and embarrassment he’d caused her.

  Or maybe he just didn’t care.

  Ursula leaned forward. “I know you, Evelyn. You never make a move unless you’ve calculated it fourteen different ways. You see every possible outcome before determining the best road. But I want you to know you don’t have to stay with a man who cheats.”

  Without Evelyn’s permission, fresh tears fell. “I married him, Ursula. I made a commitment.” She’d been wrestling with it ever since she left her life on the floor of her closet at the Brighton Street house. She knew her marriage was over, but that didn’t keep her from feeling like a failure. And it certainly did nothing to remove the question that permeated every waking moment: What do I do now?

  “And you honored it, but he didn’t. That makes him the failure. Not you.”

  Sure didn’t feel like it. For the past few weeks, Evelyn had been replaying moments from their marriage. What could she have done differently? Was there a way to have kept him from straying? Maybe she’d pushed him too hard to start a family. Maybe she’d complained too much about their life in the public eye.

  “Evelyn.” Ursula forced her gaze. “This isn’t your fault.”

  She averted her eyes. She wasn’t accustomed to Ursula being nice to her. Or anyone, for that matter. Kindness seemed to hide in the corners where she least expected it. First Trevor, now Ursula. Maybe that’s what drew the tears to her eyes.

  “I mean it. Some men let all that power and money go to their heads. Frankie didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, which is why people didn’t like him. It’s why a lot of people don’t like me.”

  “It’s just because they don’t know there’s a big heart underneath all those thorns.” Evelyn smiled through her tears.

  Ursula let out a gruff laugh. “You’ve got a choice, kid. Stay in the house, mope around, and become the crazy person the media says you are.”

  “Or?”

  “Put on your big-girl panties and make some hard decisions. I’m all for working out your differences, and if you think your husband wants to change, then give it another go.”

  Evelyn shook her head. “I think he’s got himself convinced he didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Then he’s the one with the mental problem.”

  Evelyn wiped her cheek and looked at Ursula. “He’s not going to change, Ursula. I think he’s been cheating on me since before we even got married.”

  “Then maybe it’s time for you to move on.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go.” The words came out in a whisper, accompanied by a crippling fear.

  She had never been alone in her life. Christopher had always provided for her. Taken care of her. Did she even know how to make it on her own?

  “Well, you’ve got me. After solving Pressman’s problems, I’m bored again. I could use a project.”

  Evelyn laughed. “Thanks, Ursula.”

  “Anytime. Especially if there are pastries.” She picked up a muffin, took a bite, and let herself out, leaving Evelyn with her thoughts. Evelyn watched as the old woman flagged down one of the farmhands. When she climbed into his pickup truck, Evelyn could only assume she’d demanded a ride home.

  She’d done the right thing filing for divorce, even though it wasn’t something that happened to good Christians. But lately it felt like nothing in her life was supposed to happen to good Christians. She’d known marriage wouldn’t be champagne and roses all the time, but this? She never dreamed this would be her story.

  She never dreamed she would consider closing the chapter on Christopher once and for all.

  She wondered if God would ever forgive her if she chose to walk away.

  And even if he did, would she ever forgive herself?

  CHAPTER

  21

  BY MID-JULY, the media broke the story that a woman named Darby, who lived in Colorado Springs, was pregnant with Christopher’s illegitimate child. Evelyn spent that night with a pint of peppermint stick and a spoon.

  Despite the fact that she’d made her decision, learning the details of her husband’s double life still got under her skin.

  “Why do we have to wait the full ninety days, Casey?” Evelyn demanded as if it were perfectly acceptable to take out her frustrations on her poor lawyer. “This is ludicrous.”

  “This development certainly strengthens your case,” Casey said. “But remember, Evelyn, Chris is a proud man. He’s not going to roll over. He doesn’t like to lose.”

  “I’m not asking for anything. I just want to move on with my life.” As if she had something to move on to. “And he’s going to try to make that impossible, isn’t he?”

  Casey spoke to her in his calmest voice then, reminding her they were getting closer. “Hang on, Evelyn. One day this will all be behind you.”

  Two weeks later, Evelyn started working part-time at The Paper Heart, in order to bring in a little money, but she generally hid in the back, stocking shelves and staying out of sight. The town had mostly forgotten her, but every now and then something would bring the scandal up again, and she’d have to deal with the stares, the whispers, the finger-pointing.

  After one particularly trying morning shift of hiding from Georgina, Susan, Lydia, and the other members of the Loves Park Chamber Ladies, Evelyn returned to the bungalow, anxious for its promised solace.

  The knock on the door was unexpected, though the Loves Park Courier had leaked her location earlier that week, raising the question, Who’s feeding the paper their information?

  Also worth asking: Why?

  Evelyn’s life was hardly worth reporting on anymore. Aside from work, most days she didn’t even leave the bungalow.

  She quietly moved toward the door and saw Abigail waiting on the other side.

  “I brought you some clothes.” She held out a bag of jeans and shirts that would make Evelyn look and feel more normal and less like a wealthy politician’s ex-wife. The clothes she’d reluctantly packed up that day she’d raided her own closet did exactly the opposite.

  “These still have the tags on them. I just asked for your hand-me-downs.” It shamed her that she couldn’t afford to go shopping for her own clothes anymore. How would she ever determine who she was if she couldn’t dress the part?

  Abigail shrugged. “They reminded me of you.”

  Evelyn hugged her, surprised how the kind gesture affected her. “Thanks.”

  “One more thing.”

  Evelyn pulled away, questioning Abigail with her eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Seconds later, four more women burst through the front door, complete with their easel, manila folders, and file boxes. Evelyn looked at Abigail, who grimaced another apology.

  “You’re looking a little bit better, Evelyn,” Gigi said, moving past her and into the house.

  “At least your hair is clean.” Ursula harrumphed her way to an armchair and plopped down. “Got anything to eat?”

  Evelyn excused herself to the kitchen, where she quickly scrounged together a few snacks. When she returned, she saw a large photo of Trevor pinned to the easel. She set the tray of snacks on the coffee table and sat down.

  “What is all this?”

  “Your benefactor is in need of our help,” Gigi said. “And we’re inclined to give it. The man might be well on his way to crotchety, but we think there’s a diamond underneath all that mud.”

  “We have it on good authority he hasn’t been out with Miss Lawson in a week and a half,” Doris said, slapping a photo of Maggie next to Trevor’s and affixing it there with a magnet. “But we think he just needs a push in the right direction.”

  Evelyn picked up one of the folders and flipped t
hrough it. “How do you plan to push Whit?” she asked. “Judging by this folder, you haven’t found much dirt on him.” That didn’t surprise her. The man was private, hated crowds, and spent much of each day in a mysterious red barn she’d yet to inspect.

  Maggie’s folder was nearly empty too.

  “We need your help,” Gigi said.

  Evelyn tossed both folders back on the coffee table. “Why me?” She hardly saw Whit these days. He was always busy, and now that she had a part-time job, they only really spoke to each other in passing.

  “After all he’s done for you, it’s the least we can do to repay him.”

  “But if I remember correctly, he asked you not to interfere with his love life.” Guilt niggled at Evelyn. She hadn’t done anything to help repay Whit. She hadn’t pulled a weed or watered a flower.

  And while he made the occasional short-tempered remark, for the most part, he put up with her.

  Was this really who she wanted to become?

  “It’s just some harmless digging. We need you to probe him a little—figure out what it is that has him so spooked,” Gigi said. “There must be a reason why he’s pulling away from her. And doggone it, we need a wedding. Our reputation is at stake.”

  “I’m not comfortable with this,” Evelyn said. After everything Trevor had done for her, she wasn’t going to purposely go against his wishes.

  Doris let out a sigh. “He’s such an attractive, kind man. Plays that guitar at church. All the girls talk about how handsome he is, but he never even looks in their direction.”

  “Maybe he’s holding out for someone special,” Abigail said. She looked at Evelyn. “Do you know if there’s a woman he’s hung up on?”

  Evelyn shook her head. “No. I know he dated that Rachel for a long time.” That’s about all she knew. They dated for a year or so and then they broke up. It would be a miracle if anyone found out why. Whit certainly wouldn’t volunteer that information.

  Doris slapped Rachel’s photo on the board with a thud.

  “I don’t know why they broke up. I thought they were going to get married.” Evelyn stared at the photo of Whit. Where they’d found it, she had no idea. She almost wondered if one of them had taken it without his knowledge because he had that familiar faraway look in his eye, clearly not posing for the camera.

  “You need to find out,” Doris said. “It’s so sad he’s still single. And this Maggie might be his best chance at the real thing.”

  Evelyn sat. “Whit and I aren’t exactly close.”

  Doris waved her off. “You live in his house.”

  “His guesthouse. He doesn’t live here. I hardly ever see him. He’s always working around the farm or out back in that barn.”

  “Making furniture,” Doris said with a knowing tone of voice.

  Evelyn frowned. “Farming.”

  All heads turned her way.

  Gigi looked surprised. “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?” Evelyn’s eyes darted around the room.

  “Is it a secret?” Doris asked.

  “Hardly.” Ursula inspected the cookies Evelyn had set on the coffee table. “If it was a secret, I don’t think he would’ve been on the cover of that business magazine last month.”

  Evelyn laughed. “Trevor Whitney? On the cover of a magazine?”

  Abigail tapped on her phone, then handed it to Evelyn. She’d loaded a page with the image of a Colorado business magazine featuring unlikely cover model Trevor Whitney.

  “I don’t understand. Whit runs the farm.” Evelyn handed the phone back. “How does that land him on the cover of a business magazine?”

  “If she doesn’t even know about Trevor’s side business, she is clearly not the right person to help make this match,” Ursula said.

  “Oh, my dear, there’s a lot more to Mr. Whitney than meets the eye,” Gigi said. “Which is why he could be a wonderful match for this Maggie. It would be a shame for someone with his qualities to go on living such a lonely existence.”

  “You still haven’t told me what is so wonderful about him.” Evelyn crossed her arms, but her sarcastic statement was met with deafening silence. Panicked expressions raced from woman to woman. She turned and found Trevor standing in the doorway, looking like a lost dog who’d wandered into a den of hungry wolves. Or to be more precise, a pen of cackling hens, which, in Trevor’s world, was probably worse.

  Had he heard what she said? Her words had been so callous, and taken out of context, they must have sounded awful.

  Quickly the ladies sprang into action, hiding the information they’d collected about Trevor and Maggie. Doris tore the photos off the board, the magnets falling to the floor with a plunk.

  “You look busy,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Mr. Whitney,” Gigi said, moving toward him. “It’s wonderful to see you. We were hoping you and Evelyn might be able to work up some ideas for the new hearts yet this week.”

  Evelyn looked at him, but he avoided her. He must have heard. What a terrible thing for her to say—as if she couldn’t think of ten wonderful things about him herself.

  She didn’t deserve to be his friend.

  “Sure.” He backed up, toward the door. “But can you get rid of the rest of that stuff?” He glanced at the folders still in Doris’s hand.

  The women all froze.

  Evelyn had sat in on countless matchmaking sessions, and while Gigi wasn’t lying when she said they did other things—many of them good—they did spend a considerable amount of time trying to find perfect matches for the lonely hearts of Loves Park.

  Evelyn herself might soon fall under that category, but for obvious reasons, she hadn’t sparked their attention.

  It hadn’t occurred to her before just how humiliating it would be for someone like Trevor—someone who would never willingly draw attention to himself—to walk in and find his face on an easel with a list of pros and cons underneath it.

  To have people think he’d only ever fall in love if they intervened.

  After he left, Evelyn stood. “That was awful.”

  “I’ll say. You really shouldn’t speak so harshly about Mr. Whitney, Evelyn,” Doris said. “He’s doing you such a favor letting you live here.”

  “I was talking about your folders and your photos and your list of pros and cons. He doesn’t want you matching him. We should stay out of it.”

  “Yes, but why . . . ?”

  “You don’t know Trevor.”

  “I thought the two of you weren’t close,” Ursula said.

  Evelyn rolled her eyes. Leave it to Ursula to throw her own words back at her.

  “But you do know him, Evelyn,” Gigi said. “So you can be the one to steer him in the right direction. Straight toward Maggie Lawson.” She held up Maggie’s photo with a smile. “We think you should use the hearts as a way in. Even someone as cold as Trevor Whitney will melt if he thinks someone has made a public declaration of their love for him.”

  “You want me to lie?”

  Gigi frowned. “Of course not. We will convince Maggie to leave him a real, legitimate message. We just need you to play it up with Trevor.”

  “That’s your plan?” Evelyn sighed. Maybe they did need her help.

  Gigi’s brow furrowed. “Do you have a better one?”

  “I hate to break it to you, Gigi, but all of this—especially leaving messages on lampposts—is exactly the kind of thing that would have Trevor Whitney running for the hills. There is no way any of it is going to help you in your cause.”

  Besides, did Gigi know the state of Evelyn’s love life? How could they even want her to get involved in this scheme?

  “You underestimate the power of Loves Park tradition, young lady,” Gigi said. She flipped open one of the folders. “Look at this list of standing messages, some dating back ten, even fifteen years. These are the ones that come in every single year.”

  Evelyn glanced at the sheet of paper. “This does nothing to prove yo
ur point.”

  “Let me finish,” Gigi said.

  Evelyn picked up the paper but didn’t respond.

  “We also get anonymous hearts,” Gigi said, flipping to the next sheet in the folder. “The kind too personal or risky to attach to a name. In fact, a couple of those also seem to be standing orders. They come in every year.”

  “She’s still waiting for your point, Gigi,” Ursula said.

  Gigi shot the other woman a look. “The point is I’ve done my research over the years, and I’ve uncovered nearly all of the people who’ve purchased these hearts anonymously.”

  “I guess the word anonymous means different things to different people,” Evelyn said.

  Gigi scowled. “Anyway, over 85 percent of them are from men exactly like Trevor Whitney.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Evelyn said. “There aren’t other men like Trevor Whitney.”

  The other ladies stilled.

  Evelyn looked from face to face, replaying the words she’d said. “Oh, stop it. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Are you sure? Because that’s an entirely different can of worms,” Gigi said.

  “No, I mean I’ve never known anyone like him. He’s maddening. He doesn’t talk. He’s kind but mean at the same time.”

  “Just like Mack Barrett.”

  “The high school football coach?”

  “And one of the sappiest romantics in this town,” Gigi said proudly.

  “Oh, and Bert McDonald.” Doris waved her hand in Gigi’s direction. “Tell her about Bert!”

  “Bert works construction. Very manly but also quite an accomplished poet.”

  Evelyn only stared.

  “You really shouldn’t label people with such stereotypes, Evelyn.” Gigi snatched the paper from her hands and tucked it back inside a manila folder, evidently unaware of her own double standard.

  “This plan will work. Now here.” With a stern nod she handed Evelyn the binder concerning the hearts. “You and Mr. Whitney can talk about your plan for the new and improved hearts and you can probe him about Maggie. Report back.”

  Evelyn groaned.