Page 153 of Healing Eleanor

I bite the corner of my lip, unsure how else to bring it up except outright. “Can you… tell me about God?” My voice wavers, nervous but curious.

A soft smile tugs at Evelyn’s lips. “What is it you want to know?”

I shrug, picking at my fingernails. “I’ve heard Nik pray, and share his faith. Lily, Gabriel, even Dillon too. And I guess… I just want to know what I’m missing. If faith is really something worth pursuing. If it could be part of my healing journey.”

Evelyn is quiet for a moment, considering. “I think it’s wonderful you’re asking, Eleanor,” she finally answers, her voice warm. “And yes—God is the ultimate healer. Faith doesn’t erase the pain or the work you’re already doing. But it can anchor you, give you strength when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. He can do wonders for your journey.”

I nod slowly. “Do you think it would make Nik forgive me?” The question leaves my mouth unbidden.

Evelyn tilts her head. “Forgive you for what?” she asks gently, curious rather than judgmental.

My nails dig into each other until I nearly draw blood. “For lying to him… pretending I was eating when I wasn’t.” My gaze falls to my lap, shame washing over me. “For selfishly kissing him after his mom died, then saying it was a mistake. And for not saying I loved him back when he told me—though, in my defense, he didn’t exactly give me the chance. Still.” I suck in a shaky breath. “Not that it matters. I can’t be with him anyway. I’m still under contract, and dancers can’t date their coaches. Not that he’d even want me anymore. Honestly…” My voice cracks, “I don’t even know if I want to dance anymore.”

The words spill out like they’ve been held under pressure for weeks, and now there’s no way to shove them back inside.

Evelyn’s eyes widen slightly, though her expression softens just as quickly. She picks up her pen, scribbles a few notes, then sets them aside again. “That’s… quite a lot to carry,” she says quietly. Then she leans forward, her voice shifting. “Can I offer you advice not as Evelyn the therapist, but as Lily’s mom?”

I blink at her, surprised. “You can do that?”

Her smile is small, but warm. “Yes. Because sometimes, Eleanor, you don’t need a therapist’s clinical answer. You need someone to remind you that you’re just a young woman who’s hurting, trying to find her way.”

Emotion gathers behind my eyes while I wait for her response.

“As Lily’s mom, I’ll tell you this—Nik doesn’t need to forgive you in the way you think,” she says softly. “He’s a good man, and when he said he loved you, I believe he meant it. Love doesn’t vanish the moment we make mistakes. And if you’re worried about God…” She pauses, searching my eyes. “God’s forgiveness isn’t like ours. It’s not fragile, and it’s not earned. It’s given freely. You don’t have to clean yourself up first. You just have to come as you are.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I lower my gaze to my lap.

“As for Nik,” Evelyn continues, “if the Lord intends your paths to be together, He’ll make a way. That’s not something you have to control, or fix, or rush.” She leans back, folding her hands in her lap. “Right now, your focus should be healing—your body, your spirit, your heart. Dancing or not dancing, being with Nik or not being with him—those answers will come in time. But if you chase them before you’re ready, you’ll only break yourself further.”

Her words are gentle, but they sink like an anchor in my chest.

I sniff, trying to keep my tears back. “I love him too,” I say the words aloud for the first time. “I haven’t heard from him since my ankle, and after that night… I still haven’t heard from him. If he isn’t meant for me, how do I get over that?”

Evelyn’s expression softens, her eyes full of compassion. “Eleanor, love isn’t something we just turn off. And I don’t think God is asking you to stop loving Nik. But He is asking you to trust Him with that love.”

I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand, listening.

“You see,” she continues, “if Nik is part of God’s plan for your life, nothing—not time, not contracts, not even this silence—will keep that from coming to pass. But if he’s not, then the Lord has someone, or something, far better for you than you could imagine. The key is letting God be the one to decide.”

Her voice remains soft but carries a steady conviction. “That’s why faith matters, Eleanor. Because right now, you’re holding all this pain, all these questions, in your own hands. And it’s crushing you. But if you gave it over to God—your love for Nik, your fear of being unloved, your future—He would carry it for you. And He won’t drop it. He won’t drop you.”

A fresh wave of tears blur my vision, but they feel different, like something breaking loose inside me.

Evelyn reaches for her notes, then stops and simply says, “Start small. Start with prayer. Even if the only words you can manage are, God, I don’t know what to do, but I want to trust You. You can even write in your journal. He’ll hear you. And that’s where healing begins.”

I grab a tissue and blow my nose, surprised by the quiet calm settling over me, a quiet peace settling beneath my skin.

Evelyn swivels in her chair toward the bookcase and pulls something from the shelf. She holds it out with a small smile. “Here. This was Lily’s Bible. It still has some of her notes inside, but I know she’d want you to have it.”

My breath snags on a sob as I accept the light pink book, its foiled edges catching the light. “Where do I even start?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Evelyn taps her lower lip, considering. “Begin with the Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. My favorite is John. Those books will lay the foundation of your faith. The rest… it will fall into place as you walk with Him.”

I nod, clutching the book in my hands. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” Evelyn’s smile is warm, full of empathy. “Why don’t we end a little early today? Give you some time with your thoughts.”

When I leave her office, I head straight home. I curl up in bed, pulling the blanket around me, and open Lily’s Bible. A few folded notes slip out onto the comforter. I gather them carefully, scanning the neat, detailed handwriting before setting them aside, my heart aching at the intimacy of it. Then I flip through the thin, delicate pages until I find John.