Change of Heart (14 page)

CHAPTER

A
N UNWELCOME POUNDING
on the door of the guesthouse tugged Evelyn from sleep. She’d been doing a lot of sleeping since she told Casey to start divorce proceedings. It had been two weeks since her little display at the courthouse, and the media had finally stopped talking about it.

But the Loves Park gossip mill had not, which meant Evelyn was perfectly fine hiding out in the guesthouse until further notice.

She stumbled to the door and found Whit standing on the porch, looking like a ranch hand in his dirty jeans, a blue plaid shirt, and work boots, that ratty old baseball cap pulled down low, shading his hazel eyes.

“Did I wake you?”

She shrugged.

“It’s noon.”

“Your point?”

He held up a plastic bag from the grocery store.

“What’s that?”

“Ice cream.”

“You bought me ice cream?”

“You said you wanted some a while ago, right?”

The shameful scene at the store rushed back.

He handed her the bag. “Lots of chores out here if you feel like getting out of the house.” He walked away in the direction of the barns. She stared at the two pints in the bag. Moose tracks and peppermint stick.

He bought her ice cream?

When had they become friends again? Or was this pity ice cream? He probably just felt sorry for her. She had become something of a disaster.

She stuck the ice cream in the freezer as a memory jumped to the forefront of her mind. The summer before freshman year of college. She and Christopher had a date planned
 
—just the two of them
 
—so when Whit showed up at her house, she was angry.

“Did he send you here?”

Whit glanced away. “Got caught up with his parents.”

Evelyn sighed. It was always something with Christopher. Sometimes it had felt like she spent more time with Whit
 
—and Casey, when he tagged along
 
—than with her own boyfriend.

“You look good,” Whit had told her. “Want to go for a walk?”

“You don’t have to entertain me, Whit. I’m fine.” She’d never been a very good liar.

“This time next week, we’ll all be at different schools. Maybe I’m freaking out about it.” He kicked a rock off the edge of her front porch.

She closed the door and joined him outside. “Are you?”

He shrugged.

They walked in silence toward Old Town, both lost in their own thoughts, both on the cusp of “real life”
 
—of getting out of Loves Park and moving on to bigger and better things. They had their whole lives in front of them and no words to process the fusion of feelings swirling around in their minds.

He stopped in front of the Old Town Creamery and smiled.

“Might as well start on that freshman fifteen now,” she said, following him into the ice cream shop.

He ordered moose tracks. She ordered peppermint stick. They sat outside and those inexplicable feelings poured onto the picnic table.

“I’m not scared to leave,” she’d told him. “I think I’d be more afraid to stay.”

Living in her house after her sister, Sylvie, died had been like living with a ghost. Her parents weren’t the same. None of them were. And the constant struggle to please her father overwhelmed her.

“I suppose I need to get out on my own,” she said, the idea scaring her in spite of what she’d said before.

“To do what?”

“I’m not sure. Something with art, I think. I want to be an artist.” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Lame, right?” Not many people could make a living as an artist.

But Whit shook his head. “Not lame at all. You should go for it. I think you can do anything.”

Now Evelyn wondered if he did remember they’d been good friends once.

Or maybe he wanted to remind her of those words he’d spoken all those years ago.
“I think you can do anything.”

Nobody had ever believed in her like that
 
—before or since. She supposed that’s what a real friend did. And yet, she’d traded that friendship for a life filled with acquaintances who’d abandoned her at the first sign of trouble. It shamed her, how she’d miscalculated what was really important.

Dinnertime rolled around, but she had no appetite. No desire to shower either. Instead, she rotated from the Adirondack chairs outside to the couch, where she mindlessly flipped through television she had no interest in, occasionally jarred back to reality by the image of Christopher’s face, still captivating audiences with his scandalous ways.

Released on his own recognizance. Awaiting trial. Sentencing. Prison time likely. She didn’t even know if he’d returned to Loves Park. She didn’t know if he’d gotten the divorce papers. She didn’t know anything about Christopher Brandt, and it was painfully obvious she never had.

He would tell her she was weak. And until recently she would’ve believed him.

Scared? Yes. But weak? Not anymore. At least, she didn’t want to be.

Night fell and Evelyn drifted to sleep under the cozy cover of a homemade quilt.

She awoke the next morning and lived the same day all over again. Another week passed, and Christopher started calling from the landline in the home they used to share. She turned her phone off and lay back down on the sofa, but before she could close her eyes, she heard a commotion outside.

What if the reporters had found her? Thankfully, the curtains were closed.

“Evelyn?”

She groaned. It wasn’t reporters
 
—it was worse.

“We know you’re in there!”

“We came to bring you back to the land of the living!”

She opened the front door and stared at the five very hopeful-looking women carrying an array of baked goods, disposable coffee cups, and a stack of manila file folders.

She resisted the urge to groan but stepped out of the way so they could enter. No sense pretending she had a choice.

“Oh, my, isn’t this an interesting look for you?” Gigi said as she passed.

Abigail stopped in front of her and handed her a cup of something warm. “Thought you could use this.” More than any of them, Abigail could relate to losing everything. Last year, when she lost The Book Nook, Abigail must’ve thought her world was caving in too. Did she wonder why God had left her? Did she battle anger and fear and worry and dread? Probably not like Evelyn did. Sometimes her thoughts were so dark they shamed her.

She took the coffee and forced a smile. “Thanks.”

“For the record, I was against this ‘show of support.’”

Evelyn closed the door. “I had a feeling it wasn’t your idea.” They moved into the living room, where the other ladies had already set up shop. A tray of pastries and bagels sat on the white coffee table at the center of the room. Ursula and Doris had claimed the oversize armchairs while Tess Jenkins perched on the edge of the couch, where Evelyn had been spending most of her life lately.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Ursula said, her tone sarcastic as she surveyed the damage of three weeks’ worth of neglect. “Doesn’t bode well if you’re trying to prove you’re
not
mentally ill.”

“Ursula!” Gigi’s tone warned. Panicked expressions crisscrossed the room.

“What are you talking about?” Evelyn sensed there was something they weren’t telling her.

“It’s nothing, dear,” Gigi said, her tone maternal.

“Tell me,” Evelyn said.

“It’s all over the news,” Ursula said, biting into a donut. “Don’t you read?”

“What’s all over the news?”

A thick, weighty silence filled the room, Evelyn at its center. “Tell me.”

“Honey, sometimes it’s better not to know what everyone is saying behind your back,” Doris said.

“This is not one of those times, Doris.”

“Oh, it might be,” Doris replied.

“Someone recorded you,” Ursula said. “It’s gone virus.”

“Viral,” Abigail corrected. “A stupid YouTube video.”

“Of me?” Evelyn reached for her laptop, but Gigi snatched it before she could get her hands on it. Didn’t matter, though. She knew what had happened. The Good Samaritan’s teenager had posted the video of her meltdown online.

As if her fall outside the courthouse playing on a continual loop wasn’t humiliating enough, now she’d had an all-out viral breakdown.

“That was weeks ago,” Evelyn said, wishing she could go hide under the quilt on the bed upstairs, worn threadbare from years of comforting people in their darkest moments.

“The boy said he didn’t know who you were until now,” Gigi explained. “He posted it right away, but once he changed the headline to include your name, well, that’s when the thing took off.”

Evelyn smoothed her hair back and plopped down on the other end of the couch while Abigail and Gigi sat on the love seat opposite the two stuffed armchairs. Evelyn couldn’t muster an ounce of social grace.

“I don’t know why I’m even surprised,” Evelyn said, feeling defeated.

“Good thing you don’t read the newspaper,” Ursula said.

“Ursula!” A choir of exasperation rang out.

“It’s fishy,” the old woman spat. “And she deserves to know.”

“Evelyn, who have you talked to lately?” Gigi asked.

Evelyn frowned. “Why?”

“The newspaper published an article about you.”

Evelyn let her head rest on the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to know.”

“They had your appointment records with the therapist in Dillon. And a list of the medications you’ve been taking,” Doris said. “Someone would have to be close to you to find out those things. We didn’t even know.”

The memory of her fall on the way into the courthouse clamored for her attention. Her pills had never turned up. She’d had to order a new bottle, and it had been ages since she’d needed to do that.

“One of those reporters got ahold of my medication,” she said, sure of it now.

“Well, they certainly did their homework,” Tess said. “I had no idea about your panic attacks. The anxiety. The stress of being a politician’s wife must’ve done a number on you.”

“I’ve always been this way,” Evelyn said mindlessly.

The others stared at her, but she didn’t elaborate.

“Lots of people take antidepressants. This hardly seems like news,” Abigail said, defensive.

“They’re trying to make her look like she’s
mentally unstable
,” Doris said, whispering the last two words. “You know. Cuckoo.” She wound her finger in a circle around her ear and let her eyes cross.

“Doris,” Ursula scolded.

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” the other woman said with a frown.

“You missed our meeting,” Gigi said, obviously eager to change the subject.

“Sorry.” Evelyn’s response was hollow, of course, because she wasn’t sorry nor did she even realize there had been a meeting to miss.

“You’re still a member of the Volunteers, and we wanted to give you some time to yourself, but we do have work to do,” Doris said, sounding falsely chipper.

“Forgive me if I don’t feel like matchmaking right this minute,” Evelyn said. It all seemed so trite when she thought about it. Pairing singletons, reading love letters, stamping envelopes. Why had she ever joined this group in the first place?

Because Christopher told her to. Why else?

“We have a task that we think is the perfect distraction for you. We waited for some of the chaos to die down, and we feel like the time is finally right,” Gigi said.

Evelyn didn’t ask what it was because she didn’t want to know.

A knock at the door made Evelyn wonder if she was hosting a party and no one had told her.

Another knock. She glanced at the clock. It had been three hours since her last visit from Whit. Odds were that was him on her front porch. He’d been checking in on her every day since she returned from the hearing, always with an excuse to be there. She knew better. He was probably afraid she was going to do something stupid like swallow all the pills her shrink had prescribed.

She wasn’t that desperate. Yet.

“Aren’t you going to get it?” Gigi wore an inquisitive expression.

“I wasn’t going to, no.” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to ignore Whit’s pounding, though even she had to admit it was pointless. He would worry she’d done something stupid and find a way in. He always did.

“Then I’ll get it,” Gigi said.

Evelyn stood. That would be a mistake. Her best bet was to convince Whit to leave. And fast. But Gigi was quicker than she looked, and Evelyn reached her just after she pulled the door open, revealing Trevor, who looked less surprised than she expected.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Whitney.”

“I had a choice?” He met Evelyn’s gaze. She looked away. What did he think of her in that moment? She’d let herself fall apart under his watchful eye and he had to have opinions about that.

Gigi walked past her, back toward the living room, leaving her in the entryway alone with Whit.

“You okay?” He stopped beside her but didn’t turn to face her. As if he could sense her humiliation.

She mustered a nod. He lingered a long moment, then moved into the living room. From nowhere, tears had clouded her sight. She wasn’t accustomed to sympathy, especially not from him. She’d learned to live on the other side of his cold shoulder.