Change of Heart (33 page)

CHAPTER

I
T 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 perfect 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 want 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

T
REVOR 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.”

Ursula responded with a crunch.

“Did you just come here to bring me cookies?”

Gigi shook her head. “No.” Then her face took on a worried expression. “Have you spoken with Evelyn?”

He leaned against the doorframe. “Not since the night of the museum opening.”

The three women exchanged a knowing look. Knowing to them, anyway. He had no clue what it meant.

“Gigi, do you have something you need to say?” Trevor asked. “Because you look like a balloon with too much air in it.”

Doris raised her hand before she spoke. “She heard what you said.”

He frowned. “What I said when?”

Gigi let out a long sigh. “That night at the museum. I was right outside when you and Evelyn were talking in that room.”

“She didn’t bother to clear her throat or anything because she secretly wanted to eavesdrop,” Ursula said.

“That is not true.” Gigi looked down. “I admit I should’ve made my presence known, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I wish you would’ve.” Trevor’s hands found his pockets.

She peered at him with that same pitying look he’d seen a hundred times. It must be easy to feel sorry for the guy who had no wife, the one who’d spent most of his years trying awfully hard not to love a woman he had no right loving.

“I just had no idea, Trevor,” Doris said.

He didn’t respond. He’d tricked himself for years into believing he’d pretty much gotten over Evelyn
 
—he was the biggest fool of all.

“I suspected,” Gigi said. “After that night you rescued her from the Royal.”

Doris gasped. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Gigi gave Trevor a sad look. “For once it didn’t feel right to interfere. At least not after my attempt at matchmaking Trevor and Maggie failed so miserably.”

Trevor groaned. “Let’s not do this, ladies.”

“I’m worried about you,” Gigi said.

“That why you made me cookies?”

She shrugged. “I bake when I’m worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think so. You’ve missed the last two Sundays at church. The music isn’t the same without you.”

Doris shook her head. “It’s really not. Last week we had a tone-deaf worship leader who knew only four chords. Also, I think he might’ve been older than me.”

“Snap out of it,” Ursula said. “You look like you’re in mourning out here.”

Trevor shifted. “You can’t mourn the loss of something that was never yours.”

“Have you tried talking to her since then?” Doris’s eyes were hopeful
 
—too hopeful. He hated to be such a disappointment to so many people.

He turned back toward the stall, found the broom, and went over the floor he’d finished sweeping moments before the Volunteers arrived. “She won’t return my calls.”

“She’s painting at The Paper Heart and leading art workshops. Somehow Abigail got the idea that she needed studio space,” Gigi said.

Trevor kept his head down. He could feel them watching him.

“And the city made her the official artist in residence.” Doris moved in next to Gigi.

“Evelyn swears Ursula is behind the whole thing,” Gigi said.

Ursula cackled. “She thinks I’m much sweeter than I am.”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time you surprised everyone.” Ursula had helped Abigail open her new store, after all.

The women responded by stepping still closer to him. When he finally looked up, he instantly regretted it. What were they, some kind of mind readers?

He groaned. “Don’t say anything.”

Gigi and Doris let out what could only be described as a squeal.

Ursula only nodded. “Good on ya, kid,” she said.

“I mean it,” he said. “I don’t want her to know it was me.”

“We won’t breathe a word,” Gigi said. “But why keep it a secret?”

“She rejected the offer. She obviously didn’t want my help,” he said.

“Do you know what you’ve done for her?” Gigi asked.

He didn’t. How could he? He hadn’t seen her in over a month. The guesthouse haunted him, the farm mocked him
 
—the whole world felt empty since she’d gone.

Gigi smiled. “The other day, she actually stood up for herself. It’s like she just needed a reminder of who she was.” She reached out and took his hand. “You did that for her simply by giving her that push.”

“Don’t mistake her wanting to do things for herself as a rejection,” Ursula added. “She’s finally figuring out who she is.”

“Good,” Trevor said. “I spent a lot of years thinking she’d changed. And not for the better. Turns out she was just a little lost.”

“I think we’re all a little lost in our own way.” Gigi squeezed his hand. “But I’ve known Evelyn a long time, and she seems very different to me now.”

“Don’t you see?” Doris said, her eyes shining. “You’ve given her another chance at being happy, at finding her place.”

“You should do the same for yourself,” Ursula added.

He walked away. “You ladies give me too much credit. All I did was put the bug in the mayor’s ear. Told him all the ways Evelyn could help him accomplish his goals for the city.”

“It got the ball rolling, Mr. Whitney, and now she’s more content than we’ve ever seen her,” Gigi said, following him.

Evelyn’s decision to reject the money he’d offered stung somehow, as if she’d knowingly rejected him. But these crazy old women were right
 
—Evelyn needed to stand on her own two feet.

“I don’t take any credit for her happiness,” Trevor said, knowing that all he’d caused Evelyn over the years was grief. If she’d found strength through this whole situation, she’d come by it on her own.

“Why must you punish yourself?” Gigi asked. “What’s so bad about you?”

“You were there. You heard.”

“Yes. But I don’t think that’s it.” He felt her watching him but kept his head down.

Gigi sighed. “I thought
Evelyn
was stubborn. The two of you are quite the pair.”

“No wonder you never ended up together
 
—you’re both too nice.” Ursula sounded disgusted.

He went back to sweeping. “I let her marry him.”

“It’s not your fault that they got married. Or that he cheated. You can’t take on their burden as your own.” Doris and Ursula circled around him, closing in like the walls in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.

“No, I had my chance. It’s too late.” His sweeping had become hurried and useless. “Can we just drop it?”

Doris put a hand on his arm to stop him from moving. “Tell me you don’t love her, and then we’ll drop it.”

He paused. “You know I can’t do that.”

Three pairs of eyes watched him. “Then tell us this,” Ursula said. “Isn’t she worth fighting for?”

“Of course she is, but you don’t understand.” He stared past them, toward the guesthouse that Evelyn had turned into a home. How empty it all seemed since she was gone. “She deserves better than me.”

“Oh, hogwash.” Ursula gave him a shove.

Trevor righted himself.

“That is a fool’s response,” she said.

Doris looked genuinely afraid.

“I have three words for you, Whitney.” Ursula took a step toward him, poking him square in the chest. “Figure. It. Out.”

He didn’t move. “What did you say?”

“You heard me. You’ve had fifteen years to convince yourself she deserved better. Fifteen years to talk yourself out of it. Told yourself she was someone other than the girl you knew. She’s not. She never fit in with all those rich, hoity-toity types.”

“Now, that’s true. Something about her always seemed different,” Doris said with a nod.

“You think you’re going to get a gaggle of chances, or what?” Ursula glared at him from behind her large-framed glasses.

“No, I just told you. I had my chance.”

“You aren’t listening!” She threw her hands up. “
This
is your chance.”

“Mr. Whitney,” Doris said, her tone calm to offset Ursula’s tirade. “What Ursula is trying to say is that this is where Evelyn belongs. Out here. With you.”

He shook his head. “She doesn’t want me. Especially not after she found out what I did. I lied. That’s a felony in her book. The worst kind of crime.”

“She’ll get over it,” Ursula said.

Gigi scolded her with a look, but Trevor wondered if anything
 
—or anyone
 
—could ever shut that woman up.

“I appreciate your concern, ladies, but some things just aren’t meant to be.”

They stared at him, hopelessly, helplessly defeated.

“So that’s it, then?” Gigi asked. “Nothing more to be said?”

He shrugged. “I put the whole thing in God’s hands a long time ago.” Surely they wouldn’t argue with God.

Gigi’s face turned sour as if she’d just gotten a whiff of a carton of milk well past its expiration date. “No, you didn’t.”

Now Ursula and Doris sent her a chastising look, but it was obvious the supposed leader of this little band of matchmakers had no intention of backing down. She took a few steps toward Trevor. He stood unmoving, waiting for her to unload whatever it was she had on her mind.

Gigi looked as though the revelation was coming to her that very moment. “If you’d really given this thing over to God, would you have ordered those hearts every single year?”

Trevor felt the surprise hit his face. “What do you mean?”

“Giving it over means letting it go. You found a way to hold on to it all this time. You never really gave this thing to God.”

“Oh, my,” Doris said. “She’s right.”

“No, she’s not,” Trevor said, searching for a valid line of defense. “No one even knew who bought those hearts, especially not Evelyn.”

“But you knew, Mr. Whitney,” Gigi said quietly. “And that’s the point.”

Trevor leaned against the door of the stable and sighed. He’d convinced himself all those years ago that he’d let her go
 
—but Gigi was right. He never really gave his feelings over to God. Not wholly.

What did that say about him?

“It might be time to surrender, Mr. Whitney,” Gigi said. “Truly and completely surrender. You may’ve thought you did that, but unless you were willing to accept that the answer might be no, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“You held on. You tried to stay in control. If you’d really surrendered, you would’ve accepted that the answer was no and moved on. It’s time to surrender now.”

He ran a hand over his stubbled chin. “So you don’t think I should make a grand gesture to try to win her back?”

“They might,” Gigi said, looking at her friends. “But I don’t. Maybe for once it’s better if we don’t get in the middle of this and you accept that if it really is meant to be, God will see to it. Lay it down.” She touched his arm. “Once and for all.”

They started out toward Gigi’s old Buick, but before she opened the passenger door, Ursula turned around. “It’s not weak, you know. Surrendering.” She squinted in his direction as if sizing him up all over again. “Takes a whole lotta strength to give the thing you want most over to God, not knowing whether he will give it back to you. And it takes a lot of faith to mean it.”

She gave him a final once-over, then climbed into the car, which drove away, leaving Trevor with nothing but thoughts he didn’t want and a sad kind of regret he knew he could only pray away.

Hours later, in the quiet solace of an empty farmhouse, Trevor replayed the words over and over.
Surrender. Lay it down. Figure it out.
How had he failed so miserably?

He tossed and turned, battling questions he knew he couldn’t answer and realizing all the ways he had not surrendered. He’d exited her life but kept one eye on her at all times. He’d clung to that ounce of hope and rushed in when she was in need. Was it possible he’d done the right thing for the wrong reasons?