Change of Heart (35 page)

CHAPTER

A
WEEK BEFORE
V
ALENTINE’S
D
AY,
Evelyn hurried to get ready for a meeting at the hospital to discuss the mural for the children’s wing.

She hadn’t heard from the mayor since their last meeting, but she assumed he’d accepted her terms.

Evelyn pulled on a pair of fitted jeans, an ivory camisole, and a burgundy jacket with cuffed sleeves. Her burgundy ballet flats and a chunky bracelet completed the outfit and had her feeling ready to stand up to Georgina all over again if she had to.

She drove to the hospital, Ursula’s words running through her mind. To her dismay, she’d thought of little else all week. She’d finished all the painted hearts thinking about them. She’d gone to bed thinking about them. She’d woken up thinking about them.

And she hated that this crabby old woman knew the truth before she even knew it herself.

Regardless, she’d determined not to act on feelings that would probably only end up hurting her again down the road. Instead, she busied herself with her work. Not that she could call creating art “work.” Despite so much of her life having fallen apart, she had to admit she was happier than she’d been in a very long time.

Mostly happy, anyway. With a bit more time and distance from Trevor Whitney, she’d be even happier.

She parked the car and made her way inside, where she was met by the mayor, the Valentine Volunteers, and a woman named Tonya, who was a member of the hospital board.

As she followed the group to the elevator, she leaned toward Gigi. “No Georgina?”

Gigi winked. “She wasn’t invited to this meeting. It’s only for more
creative
types.”

Evelyn smiled.

They reached the children’s wing and, as a unit, made their way down the hall. While they walked, Evelyn took notes on the colors and structure, falling a bit behind the rest of the group. Ideas began to jump into her head, and as they did, she sketched and scribbled, wondering if there was more she could do in this wing than paint a mural.

What if this children’s wing had a mascot? What if Silly Lily were more than a character in a book? What if she could come to life and spread her silliness, her happiness, her joy among those who needed it even more than a crabby old neighbor?

“Evelyn?”

She turned and found the rest of the group watching her. How long had they been doing that?

“I’m sorry,” Evelyn said. “I just got an idea.”

“We would love to hear it,” Tonya said. “So far every idea you’ve had has been right on point. In fact, we love the sketches so much, we’d like you to paint a mural on each floor of the hospital.”

“Me?” Surely this was some kind of joke.

Tonya smiled. “You’re quite talented. And once we received Mr. Whitney’s recommendation, we knew we had the right artist.”

Evelyn frowned. “I’m sorry; what did you say?” She scanned the other women’s faces for any sign they knew what Tonya was talking about, but they all looked as confused as Evelyn felt.

Tonya continued. “When he created the artist-in-residence program, he mentioned you to me. The mural was his idea.”

“I don’t understand,” Evelyn said, her voice quiet.

The mayor shifted, then leaned in toward Tonya. “Evelyn wasn’t aware of Mr. Whitney’s involvement in her position with the city.”

Tonya’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. I am so sorry if that was not for public consumption. I only assumed everyone knew how generous he’s been.”

Evelyn tried to process what she was hearing. “It was Whit?”

Gigi moved toward her and draped an arm across her shoulders.

Ursula folded her arms. “Told ya.”

Evelyn couldn’t wrap her brain around what they were saying. It wasn’t possible that Trevor had been the one to dream up this position for her, that he’d offered to foot the bill. She’d been so cruel to him
 
—why would he go out of his way to drop her name to these people?

“Evelyn, all Mr. Whitney did was point out the obvious,” Mayor Thompkins said. “That you have a gift our city has greatly benefited from.”

“No, Mayor Thompkins. That’s not all he did,” Evelyn said.

Trevor had given her a second chance
 
—one she’d pursued without him. He’d let her go, but he’d clearly given her a gift for the road.

“If you’ll excuse me . . .” Evelyn stumbled backward down the hall toward the elevator.

She heard them call after her and prayed they would cover for her with Tonya. She didn’t want to ruin her chances to impact the community by helping out at the hospital, but in that moment, she had something else she needed to do.

Her mind wandered as she drove out to the edge of town and then kept going. When Whitney Farms came into view, her heart pounded a quickstep in her chest. She forced herself to keep going, no matter how much she wanted to turn around and forget she’d just heard anything Tonya and the mayor had said.

She reached the farmhouse, but she could see Trevor’s truck parked near the old red barn. His wood shop, his quiet thinking place.

Was that where he’d gotten the idea to invade her entire life?

She parked next to his truck, took a deep breath, and got out of the car. She nearly lost her nerve as she reached the door, but she forced herself to push it open before she could chicken out.

Inside, that familiar smell of sawdust filled her nose. She looked around, but the shop appeared to be empty. Another deep breath. Maybe this was stupid. She should go. She could resign the position and move away.

Never mind that she loved her job. Never mind that while it might’ve been Trevor’s idea, she had been the one to make it into something that gave her meaning.

“Evelyn?”

She turned and found Trevor standing in a doorway that led to the makeshift showroom in the barn. At the sight of him, she nearly forgot why she’d come.

“What are you doing here?”

She swallowed, remembering. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the one behind my position with the city?”

His face fell. “You weren’t supposed to find out about that.”

“Well, I did.”

He wiped his hands on the rag he was holding, then tucked it in his back pocket. “Would you have taken it if you’d known?”

“Of course not.”

He shrugged as if now she had her answer.

“You tried to pay my salary.”

He shrugged again. “You rejected my offer.”

“I wouldn’t allow any of my friends to pay my salary.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

The question smacked at her. She had no answer. How had they gotten here? He’d become the most important person to her, yet they weren’t even speaking. He’d shown her unconditional love, and she’d cut him out of her life completely.

He walked away.

“Are we done talking?”

He didn’t look at her. “I’m not very good with words.”

That line
 
—the same one he’d said the night he kissed her
 
—hung between them.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

“Whatever you want, Evie.” He picked up a clean rag and ran it over a table he’d built. It was beautiful, but she wouldn’t say so. Not when she was this angry.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Listen, you’ve got a good thing going. It seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Well, I don’t,” she said. “But I’m trying. And I don’t need your charity to do it.”

He sighed. “Why won’t you ever let anyone help you anymore?”

She glared at him. “I’m sorry, Whit, but your so-called help broke my heart, so you’ll understand when I tell you that, as much as I love it, I don’t feel right keeping this position with the city. It’s time for me to find my own way.”

He stopped wiping the table and held her gaze for several long seconds. “I just wanted you to believe in yourself
 
—in that girl I fell in love with all those years ago
 
—the way I believe in you.”

She started to speak but quickly changed her mind. She didn’t know how to soften when she was determined to stay angry with him. She didn’t know how to melt in his arms and say thank you because she did believe in herself now. She’d rediscovered who she was, without the mask, without the strangling need to please everyone around her. She’d discovered she didn’t need to compromise anymore. She could make decisions for herself.

She was happy and more herself than she had been in years. The fact that Whit was partially responsible for that didn’t make it less true.

So why did she stand there like a stubborn child, unwilling to relent?

Because she couldn’t bear the thought of needing someone like that ever again.

“Good-bye, Whit,” she said, unmoving.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he watched her as if trying to determine if there was anything left between them.

And as she turned and walked out of the wood shop
 
—out of his life
 
—she had the undeniable feeling that she’d just used up her last chance with Trevor Whitney.

CHAPTER

A
S
E
VELYN SPED AWAY
from Whitney Farms, tears stung her eyes.

What was wrong with her? She’d just thrown away the only good relationship she’d ever had because she couldn’t forgive Trevor. He’d forgiven her for choosing Christopher, for turning into an unrecognizable person, for taking advantage of his goodness, for throwing herself at him in a moment of drunken weakness, and finally for breaking his heart.

She had, hadn’t she? She could see the pain of a broken heart in his eyes. Trevor wasn’t the same man he’d been a few months ago, and she was to blame.

She drove to town and stopped in front of the museum, where their hearts were still on display. Inside, she headed straight to the exhibit where the story of the Loves Park painted hearts was told by way of an overhead speaker and a not-so-professional voice-over.

Evelyn stared at the hearts she’d painted. Lyrics to a song that had come to mean so much to Trevor
 
—but that she’d failed to recognize until recently. How little attention she’d paid, and yet he cared enough to remember each year.

“What I wouldn’t give for Barry to love me like that,” a lady standing a few yards away said to the woman beside her.

“Men like this don’t exist, Shirley,” the other woman said. “I think the city made it up as some kind of brilliant tourism scheme.”

“Quit ruining the romance, Mary Sue. Just because our husbands would never do it doesn’t mean no one would.”

Mary Sue waved her off. “Fantasy.”

“It’s not fantasy,” Evelyn said quietly.

“Pardon me?” The one named Shirley turned to her. “Did you say something?”

Evelyn stared at the hearts. Trevor had given everything for her
 
—for nothing but heartache in return. “It does exist. He does exist.”

The women laughed. “Well, do you want to give him our numbers?”

Evelyn brushed away a tear. “Not a chance, ladies,” she said.

She found the museum manager, an old woman named Joan who bounced when she walked.

“I have a favor,” Evelyn said, apparently getting a knack for this asking-for-help thing. “I’d like to borrow the hearts.”

Joan’s thin eyebrows crumpled. “You mean you want to take them out of the museum?”

“Yes, but I’ll return them, I promise.”

Joan tilted her head as if contemplating. “Fine. You are their creator. I suppose it would be silly for me to tell you no.”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” Evelyn smiled. “I’ll get them later today. First, I have some painting to do.”

Trevor had one plan for Valentine’s Day. Get out of town. He’d arranged for Lilian and Dale to handle everything on the farm for a few days, and he planned a long weekend of doing a whole lot of nothing but being away from the romance mess that was his hometown.

After his final run-in with Evelyn, he guessed he had his answer. He’d asked God to be clear, and the Lord appeared to have answered. In spades. So far every decision he’d made concerning Evelyn seemed to be the wrong one.

And he was tired of caring so much.

He threw his clothes in a duffel bag, filled his thermos with coffee, and hauled his gear out to the truck. He hadn’t been camping in ages. Too busy with the farm and the woodworking. But he needed to clear his head, and nothing would do that like the great outdoors.

As he finished loading up the truck, Lilian’s car sped around the bend and came to a stop beside him. “Have you been out there?” She looked panicked.

“What’s the matter
 
—has Loves Park exploded into a pile of love dust?”

She glared at him. “Whit. This is serious.”

“What is it?”

“Just drive into town. You need to see it for yourself.”

“No, I don’t,” Trevor said. “I’m going
out
of town before this place sucks me into all of its Valentine’s Day madness.” The last thing he needed was a reminder of what he
didn’t
have.

She stood in front of him and put her hands on his arm. “Trevor. This is important.”

He took a step back. “All right, now you’re starting to worry me. Is everything okay?”

“Just go.”

He huffed as he got behind the wheel of his truck. “I’ll be back.”

He pulled out of the driveway, mind spinning with the possibilities of what could have Lilian so rattled. Last time she’d been this worked up, Evelyn’s home was being invaded by the government.

He flipped on the radio and a familiar tune filled the cab of the truck.

“The very thought of you and I forget to do . . .”

No. Way. What were the odds that this of all songs was on the radio at that precise moment? He glanced down and discovered it wasn’t the radio at all. It was a CD. He popped it out and looked at it.

Someone had drawn a single heart on the front of it in thick black marker.

Were they mocking him?

He turned his attention back to the road, but something else quickly stole it again. Ahead, on a telephone pole along this old country road, was a painted heart.

The hearts were only hung on Main Street. How had this one gotten all the way out here? He slowed down.

Not just any heart
 
—one of Evelyn’s hearts. One of the hearts she’d painted with the lyrics before she’d discovered the truth.

As he drove, he counted six, seven, eight, nine hearts, all attached to the telephone poles on one of the most rural roads in Loves Park.

The tenth and final heart came into view.

Who had done this? And more importantly
 
—why?

Some sort of cruel joke to remind him of how he’d screwed everything up?

He continued toward town. He’d go to the museum and find out why the hearts were no longer on display. He’d demand they be taken down so he didn’t have to be tortured by their existence anymore. He didn’t need the reminder of all he’d lost.

Even if he never really had it in the first place.

But as he reached the final stop sign before Main Street, a different image caught his eye.

She wore a puffy turquoise ski coat, skinny jeans, and gray boots. A multicolored stocking cap covered her head, leaving her long blonde hair flowing out the bottom. She looked like something out of a dream.

He slowed the truck to a stop on the side of the road. She seemed . . . hopeful.

In her hands, she held an eleventh heart. Identical to the others, but the final words of the song had been painted on this one.

It’s just the thought of you

The very thought of you, my love

He stared at her for several seconds, unsure of how or why she’d done this. He’d lost her, hadn’t he? The second she walked out of the wood shop, he’d given up
 
—once and for all.

He turned off the engine and got out of the truck, walking toward her.

She appeared to have a difficult time holding his gaze.

“Nice heart,” he said.

She smiled. “You weren’t going to leave the song unfinished, were you?”

He glanced away.

“I thought it was time for me to meet you halfway.”

He had no reply.

“You’ve always been there for me. Always. It’s time I was there for you in return.”

“How did you do all this?” Trevor waved his hand in the direction of all the other hearts.

“I’m the artist in residence of Loves Park,” she said. “I have a lot of pull.”

He laughed. “Good to know.”

“Besides, I wanted to make a point.”

“That you’re crazy?”

“That I love you.”

The words floated there, full of promise and begging his attention, but he couldn’t believe them. He’d imagined this moment a thousand times, yet now that it was here, it felt surreal. Like a dream.

“Did you hear what I said?” she asked. The admission had exposed her. He understood that risk, and he knew how difficult this must be for her. Probably the kind of admission she didn’t want to make, but there she stood
 
—her heart literally on the line.

“I did.”

“I want you to have this.” She held the heart out in his direction.

He took the painted heart, eyes locked on hers.

“I want you to have my heart.”

Trevor cupped her face in his free hand, a world of emotions rushing through him. “You already have mine.” He brought her closer, searching her face and finding something there that he’d given up on a long time ago.

“Nobody has ever loved me the way you have, Trevor.”

“And nobody ever will.” He leaned in and let himself fall into her kiss as she drew herself nearer to him, reminding him without saying a word that God really did answer prayers.

Often when you least expected it.

He tugged himself away, still holding her, brushing her hair away from her eyes and getting lost in their deep blue for a long moment. “You are the answer to all my prayers, Evie.”

She softened, drawing him closer again. “Thank you for loving me. I know it wasn’t always easy.”

“I couldn’t help it. Believe me, I tried.” He took her face in his hands and pressed another soft kiss on her lips.

As he stepped back, he heard a car behind him. He turned and saw Gigi’s old Buick speeding their way. It came to a screeching halt, kicking up gravel dust, just inches from the tail of his truck.

The three old women got out and trudged toward them.

“You ladies have something to do with this?” Trevor called out, holding up the painted heart.

“No, Mr. Whitney,” Gigi said. “This was all Evelyn’s idea.”

“But we are happy we get to cross you off our to-be-matched list,” Doris said. “Hardest match ever.”

Trevor frowned.

“We’re not so hard,” Evelyn said. “We just needed a little time.”

“I’m just happy I don’t have to watch you two continue to mess everything up.” Ursula slung a wide bag over her shoulder. “That really gets old. You are both so dense.”

Trevor wrapped an arm around Evelyn, the two of them laughing at Ursula’s honesty, at the truth in it, at their own happiness.

“It is good to see you both smile,” Gigi said.

He glanced at Evelyn, who was looking at him. “You’re stuck with me now,” he told her.

“Thank goodness.” She smiled. “Because I can’t imagine going one more day without you.”

He kissed her forehead, pulled her close, and thanked God that while their story hadn’t followed the path he originally wanted, it had all led him here, and
here
was exactly where they both belonged.