Change of Heart (34 page)

He got out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, got himself a drink of water, and stared out the window at the empty guesthouse.

“What do you want me to do, Lord?” The words came out angrier than he intended, but then he had been angry lately, hadn’t he?

He had finished the water and set the cup in the sink when that one word popped into his head again.
Surrender.

That was it. If he and Evelyn were ever going to be together, then God would have to work a miracle. Evelyn would have to forgive him, come to him. It would have to be her idea. No more gestures or painted hearts. No more love songs or romantic memories.

Finally, once and for all, he was giving up the one thing he wanted more than air. Because he could finally see that if she wasn’t God’s will for him, then he shouldn’t spend time loving her in that way.

He plodded back to bed and tried
 
—failed
 
—to drift off to sleep. Somewhere between two and three in the morning, Trevor finally sat up in bed and rubbed the tired from his eyes. “God, I mean it this time. I’m laying this down.”

Trevor vowed in that exhausted moment to let this go. To really let it go. And that meant no more clinging to shreds of hope.

He knew women liked men who were strong, but he’d been strong all this time and it had gotten him nothing. So he chose a different kind of strength. The strength of surrendering. Of trusting God’s will.

But as he lay back down, he prayed a simple, final prayer. “Please let it be your will . . .” And he drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER

E
VELYN SAT OUTSIDE
the office of literary agent Alexandra O’Dell, clutching her portfolio with both hands. When Doris had let it slip that her niece was an agent in Denver, Evelyn did something she never would’ve done before.

She asked for a favor.

“I have a book idea,” she’d told Doris, feeling naked at the admission.

The other Volunteers all looked at her, and she waited to hear the many reasons it was silly. Frivolous. Unlikely. But they said none of those things. Instead, her confession was met with encouragement and support.

“What’s the story about?” Abigail had asked, joining them at the table.

Evelyn hesitated.

“We’re safe, Evie,” Abigail said. “We want this for you.”

And Evelyn believed her. She spent the next hour telling those women about Silly Lily, the girl with a knack for mischief. She told them about the grumpy neighbor who had no tolerance for anything childish or fun. She explained how Lily had a dog named Beefcake, who inadvertently led the curly-headed girl to the yard of that neighbor, where Lily single-handedly brought joy and happiness into the old lady’s life.

She flipped to the last illustration, where the little girl rushed over to the old woman and gave her a hug.

She leaned back. “Is it dumb?”

Gigi put a hand on Evelyn’s. “Of course it’s not dumb.”

“Who’s that supposed to be?” Ursula pointed at the picture of Lily and the old woman. “She looks familiar.”

Evelyn smiled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Ursula picked up the image and squinted at it. “Are you saying I’m cranky?”

Amused glances crisscrossed the table.

“Is this what you think I look like?” Ursula held the picture up next to her own face. Evelyn didn’t want to brag, but she’d captured the very essence of the woman sitting across from her.

“You’re missing the point, Ursula,” Gigi said. “At the end, the old woman has a heart of gold.”

“Yeah, it’s just buried under a pile of cow poo,” Doris giggled, barely glancing up from the phone she held in her hands.

Tess spoke before Ursula could respond. “Doris, what are you doing over there?”

Doris’s forehead wrinkled in concentrated confusion. “My grandson changed the settings on my phone. I can’t find Alex’s number.”

Tess took the phone from her, pressed a few buttons, and returned it.

“How’d you do that?” Doris stared at the phone in her hands.

“Magic,” Tess said. “And isn’t your grandson seven years old?”

Doris shrugged. “He’s very advanced.”

She’d called Alex and told her about Evelyn’s book, though Evelyn had cringed a little at her pitch, which was long and meandering. In the end, Alex had agreed to meet with Evelyn, and while Evelyn was thankful for the favor, sitting here now, she thought she might throw up.

An office assistant offered her coffee while she waited. Evelyn politely declined. She fidgeted. She thought about leaving.

Anxiety bubbled underneath her surface, begging her attention.

She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and forced herself to focus on the words that had calmed her more in the last few months than anything else ever had.

Be anxious for nothing.

God, please calm my weary heart.
She prayed the words silently, knowing he heard them.

“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus . . .”

“Evelyn Brandt?”

The woman’s voice startled her, but as she nodded a hello, she realized her heart rate had slowed and the knot in her stomach had considerably less of a hold on her. She stood and extended a hand to the petite woman with a blonde bob.

“I’m Alex,” she said. “Come on back.”

Evelyn followed her to a small office and sat across the desk from her.

“So you know my aunt Doris?”

Evelyn smiled. “I do. She’s very sweet.”

“She reminds me of a bird.”

Evelyn laughed.

“In a funny way. Not a mean way.” Alex flicked her hand in the air. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

Oddly enough, she did. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

An hour later, Evelyn left Alex’s office feeling like she’d just made a friend. She probably should’ve been looking for a business partner, but she’d unknowingly had one of those for ten years of marriage, and she’d decided she didn’t want to do business with anyone unless she liked them.

And she liked Alex.

Thankfully, Alex liked her too. She’d offered to represent her and to get to work trying to sell
Silly Lily
to publishers. Would it be easy? No. But it didn’t matter. Evelyn had taken the first step toward following her heart
 
—and she couldn’t put a price on that if she tried.

As she drove back to Loves Park, she realized her excitement was short-lived. She wanted to pick up the phone and tell someone about her meeting, her revelations, her dreams
 
—but the person she wanted to tell was the same person she’d given up talking to.

Trevor’s betrayal had hit her hard, so why was she even considering dialing his number? She’d determined not to get involved with men who lied or told half-truths ever again.

That evening, she walked into The Paper Heart for a meeting of the Valentine Volunteers. Gigi and Doris rushed toward her as soon as she came in.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Gigi said, handing her a warm drink. “To celebrate.”

Doris scrunched her nose. “I called Alex. The suspense was killing me.”

Evelyn smiled and let Gigi pull her into a maternal hug. “Congratulations, dear.”

“Thank you,” Evelyn said, saying a silent prayer of thanks for the unlikely friendship of these women.

“We want to hear all the details.” Gigi ushered her to their usual table. “But first, we have some business to attend to.”

As Evelyn sat at the table, she discovered they had their easel out, and Trevor’s photo was on it again.

“What are you doing?” Evelyn asked.

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day,” Tess said. “And if you don’t want Trevor Whitney, we’ve thought of about ten other women who would.”

Evelyn felt her eyes widen. “What does that mean? If I don’t want him?”

A quiet beat passed around their circle.

“Gigi was eavesdropping again,” Ursula said.

“Oh, I was not,” Gigi argued. “I might’ve accidentally stumbled into a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear, but that is not eavesdropping.”

Evelyn frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Gigi sighed. “That night at the gallery showing of the hearts. It’s been a while now, and I didn’t want to say anything because you’ve been doing so well.”

Evelyn only stared.

“We know about you and Trevor,” Tess said matter-of-factly.

Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t know what you think you know but . . .”

“We know he loves you,” Abigail said. “And we thought you loved him too.”

Evelyn put her hands up as if that could stop this conversation. “I think you’ve been misinformed.”

Their collective glare unnerved her. No one spoke, but she had the feeling they’d pieced together a lot more of this story than she ever wanted them to know.

She compacted her lips. “So you want to match Trevor?”

They stared at her. She knew this game. They were trying to get her to admit to something she was determined not to admit. Or feel. Or even consider.

Trevor Whitney had no place in her future.

“Let’s see who you’ve found for him,” Evelyn said.

Their confused expressions told her this wasn’t what they’d expected.

Tess stuttered as she rummaged through a file, then pulled out a small stack of photos. She affixed them to the whiteboard with small black magnets, moving slowly as if waiting for Evelyn to protest.

She didn’t.

Instead, she led the discussion about the pros and cons of each young woman they’d found as a possible match for her old friend Trevor Whitney. Some she discarded as too young, too old, too
experienced
. When she finished, they were left with three possible options.

“There. Any of those women would be great for Whit,” Evelyn said. “Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had about all the matchmaking I can handle for one day.”

CHAPTER

S
ADNESS OVERWHELMED
the solace of the loft above The Paper Heart. Evelyn thought she’d put up a great front, but her heart had protested with every word.

She didn’t want the Volunteers to match Trevor. Not that she didn’t want him to be happy
 
—she did. She just wanted him to be happy with her.

And she hated herself for it.

He’d been so awful, the way he’d hidden Christopher’s unfaithfulness. How would she ever trust him again?

She took out one of the wooden hearts she’d kept from the Sweetheart Festival and stared at it for a long time. He’d made this. His hands had cut the wood slats and stained each individual one. He’d created something beautiful out of something ordinary.

He had a knack for that.

She certainly felt beautiful when she was with him. Yet she knew she was the most ordinary of all.

She pulled out the messages she had left to paint and sat at the table. Some she’d assigned to other artists. Some she’d kept for herself. All new messages passed through her as artist in residence, but so far, she hadn’t seen any come in with the lyrics to their song.

She rolled her eyes.
Their song.
Like they had such a thing.

She flipped through the newest messages as if double-checking might change the fact that Trevor hadn’t purchased a heart this year. Why would he?

“Evelyn?”

She spun around in her chair to find Ursula standing at the top of the stairs.

“You scared me,” she said.

“I get that a lot.”

Evelyn watched as the old woman lumbered over to the patchwork armchair Evelyn had positioned in one corner of the room. She plopped down, and Evelyn wondered how many people it would take to get her back up.

“This thing between you and Mr. Whitney,” Ursula said. “It’s annoying.”

Evelyn frowned, thankful for the space between her and Ursula. Not that it did anything to protect her. “There is no ‘thing’ between me and Trevor.”

“Don’t think you’re fooling anybody with that charade downstairs.”

“You were all intent on matching him,” Evelyn said, picking up her pencil. “I only thought I should do my part since I’m the one who knows him best.”

She could sense the old lady eyeing her. Suddenly she felt like the little girl she’d created for her children’s book, a girl who cowered at first from the mean, crotchety old woman who lived down the block.

She dared a glance at Ursula.

Yep. Still watching her.

“Do you have something to say?” Evelyn asked, pretending to sketch on the wooden heart.

“You’re right. You do know him best, which is why I find it suspicious that the three women you settled on are the exact same three we all discarded on the first pass.”

“What are you talking about?” She stopped fake sketching and looked at Ursula.

“It was a test,” she said. “You failed.”

“I have no idea what you’re
 
—”

“Stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.” Ursula sank deeper into the chair. “We set you up. You picked the three women we knew were a terrible match for Trevor Whitney, just like I said you would.”

Evelyn pulled her hair into a low ponytail and fastened an elastic around it. “I think you’re mistaken. I discarded women who were too old or too young or
 
—”

“Too likely?”

She met Ursula’s eyes.

“You have yourself convinced you’re better off without that man, and maybe you are.”

Evelyn looked away.

“But what if you’re not? What if you’ve forgotten all the good things he’s done because you’ve chosen to pay attention to the one small thing he did wrong?”

“It was not a small thing,” Evelyn said, her voice shaky.

“You got hurt.” Ursula hugged her bigger-than-a-toddler purse. “I get it. But how much of that hurt can really be blamed on Trevor?”

Evelyn squeezed the bridge of her nose to keep from crying. She didn’t want to dredge all this up. Not today
 
—a day that had started off so well.

“I know you know the answer,” Ursula said, scooting forward in the chair. “He’s probably not going to come calling again, so maybe now it’s your turn to make the gesture.”

Evelyn lowered her hand. “I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“I told him I didn’t want to ever see him again.”

“And?”

Evelyn sniffed. “And I meant it.”

The old woman squinted at her. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You think you’re not, but how many times have you gone over those hearts looking for the one Trevor purchased for you?”

Boy, they really did know everything, didn’t they?

“That kid has done an awful lot to show you how much he cares about you.” She scooted forward again. “It’s your turn now.”

Evelyn scrolled through a mental list of memories
 
—all the times Trevor had been there for her. It started years ago, in high school, and it carried all the way to just a few short weeks ago.

She was angry that he’d kept the truth about Christopher from her, but was it possible he had done it
 
—in part, at least
 
—for her? She couldn’t say how she would’ve reacted if he’d said anything all those years ago.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, hoping it was enough to get the old woman out of her studio.

“Great,” Ursula said. “And if Gigi asked, I was never here.”

Evelyn frowned.

“She won’t believe me when I tell her I wasn’t meddling, which we all agreed not to do.”

“Weren’t you?”

“Not when God tells you to make a point.” Ursula raised her brows. “And he did, in case you’re wondering.”

Evelyn had a hard time believing God would use Ursula to make a point, but stranger things had happened.

“I won’t say anything,” Evelyn said.

“Good.” She paused. “Now, can you help me out of this chair?”