Gift of Hope

By Cole J. Powell

Evelyn Jackson's life took an unexpected and devastating turn. Now, injured and jobless, she must fight to rediscover her strength. The arrival of a newfound friend gives her not only the gift of hope but also a handsome stranger who changes her life's course once more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cole J. Powell
• Release date: Jan 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9780473643867

Cole J. Powell

Cole J. Powell is a New Zealand author who writes fierce heroines and cutthroat alphas. She loves writing books with suspenseful plots and twisted storylines; sometimes those sweet and heartfelt stories sneak in too. She thanks you sincerely for taking the time to read and review her work.

Book preview

Chapter One

Evelyn

When I was six, I had a dream of becoming a professional dancer. I loved the energy and drive dance would bring; it never mattered that I was in the confines of my own home, I was at my utmost happiest while doing so.

As my eagerness grew, my continuous pestering did also—to a point where my parents enrolled me in one of the most sought-after studios in Beverly Hills.

Throughout my entire career, I worked extremely hard. I put in long excruciating hours and kept up with my school grades, all to become the best.

But being the best wasn’t enough.

There’s never a certainty your dreams will come true.

I always thrived off the pain and sweat, the aching muscles and discipline. It was how I knew I was dancing at my finest.

I picture myself on center stage, performing in front of an auditorium full of people. My body effortlessly moves in tune with the music as I express its deep sorrowful meaning. Collaborating with my fellow contemporary dancers, using each other as extensions of ourselves.

Evelyn? Evelyn, you need to try and move, honey. You won’t get any better sitting around in here all day. She points at the wheelchair I’m in.

Sorry, Mrs. M, I was lost in thought. What is it you wanted me to do?

I’ve had Mrs. McGuire working with my rehabilitation program since I arrived at the First Order Rehabilitation Treatment Center or FORT Center for short. She’s one of three that aid me in getting the best care this facility offers. Once again, thanks to my parents.

You were thinking about dancing again, weren’t you? Eve, you know how that prolongs your progress. If your head’s not in the game, how are we supposed to help you walk again?

I look to the one lady who’s been more of a mother figure than my own over the past two months. And please, call me Hazel. How many times do I need to remind you?

Sorry. In my defense, I was raised by high-society parents, so naturally, it’s ingrained into me. I will continue to call you Mrs. M for as long as I’m here. Now, where were we? I’d like to continue our session if that is alright?

If she could only understand and view me from within. She’d see the confused, broken shell of a woman who lost it all; a dancing career, her lifestyle, and most of all, her identity. Without contemporary dance, I don’t know who I am anymore.

Okay, Evelyn, that is enough for today, honey. Your head’s not in it, and I for one, am finding it difficult to get any movement from you this afternoon. How about I wheel you back to your room and we will try again tomorrow?

I’m willing to admit defeat at the cause of my own failure, as the strong woman I’ve lost sight of takes one more hit.

As I’m wheeled around the rehab center toward the accommodation wing, I’m greeted by rehabilitators and their patients. Although I’m not in much of a mood to interact, let alone engage in small talk, I can never seem to shake the polite etiquette drilled into me.

As I approach Josey, I notice she has her appointed K-9 helper with her.

Hey, Josey. How was your session today? She’s had it hard in here. Harder than most. She not only lost full use of her legs, but she lost her whole family in an accident more tragic than mine. She’s become a good friend and one of the reasons I try to push through my bad days.

"Hey, Eve. It was brutal, but we managed. Hey, Taggey boy. She coos Tag, her golden retriever. Without this guy, I don’t know how I’d cope, you know? These animals are something special that’s for sure. Listen, I need to take Tag outside, but can we catch up later? Maybe head out into the gardens?"

Yeah, sure, why not. Might get me out of my funk.

Okay, cool. I’ll stop in once I’ve taken Tag home.

I watch her continue her path, then look at Mrs. M, who is looking at me with sympathy in her eyes. That girl has had it tough. And I’m glad she’s found a friend in here, Eve.

You’re not the only one, I think to myself.

Chapter Two

Evelyn

Mrs. M left me to retire to my room, but not before giving me a slight lecture about where my focus lies and how tomorrow will be different, or she’ll get Mr. Fort involved. I’ve never met the man, so how am I supposed to feel threatened by him? Aside from being the CEO and owner of the FORT Center that is.

Ever since I arrived, I’ve been made to feel welcome, and I sense this place is run quite differently than others. The atmosphere isn’t as strict as what I'm used to. Everything about this place is much more comforting, like a well-knit family.

We have nice rooms, they’re small yet resemble the interior of an apartment, which makes them homey; it’s not like I can do much in here, otherwise.

My favorite space is the bathroom. The showers are to die for, and because I still require assistance, having the gloriously large space suits me just fine.

Although I’m in a wheelchair, I have high hopes to walk again. Yesterday, I officially waved goodbye to my leg cast, which meant today was supposed to be the first day of nitty-gritty physiotherapy. I managed two different rounds before it all became too overwhelming. I lost sight of the importance of my recovery and was focused more on the effects from the accident.

My car was T-boned at an intersection while I was on my way home after a production. In all cliché scenarios, it was one of the heaviest rainfalls we’d had all winter.

I remember the windscreen being pelted with rain; droplets so thick my view of the road was impaired. I remember the light being green yet slowing down to go through it in case it turned to allow me to stop safely, but as it remained green, I merely kept going—gliding through it.

Everything from that point on happened so fast. The hideously loud smashing of metal-on-metal was the last thing I remember before waking in a hospital bed–pain ridden and nauseous.

Reliving that scene of bright headlights and the loud crash is what keeps me up every night. It’s also the very nightmare that took my dreams away.

I’m lying on my bed—a specially made one similar to hospital beds, but more comfortable—watching some hopeless romance on the television. It gets me thinking, if it can be that easy, then why am I single?

I’m disturbed from my single status by Josey’s loud knocking on the door.

"Hey, again. Are you ready to roll?" she asks me while snickering.

"Are you feeling extra punny today?" I laugh back, trying to imply that her puns are funny.

I may have been in a preoccupied mood earlier, however, being around this girl is a great distraction, and I start forgetting all about my wasted physio appointment earlier this afternoon. Meanwhile, there’s no idle chitchat as we make our way outside, along the paths specifically designed for patients with all needs; there are handrails stationed along the smooth stone pathway that allow anyone with a walking implement or wheelchair to glide along obstacle-free.

Finding our quiet, sheltered spot, I bask in the warmth of the sunlight that’s peeking through the clouds, soaking in as much vitamin D as I can. With the much colder days, it makes for a chilly outing without a little sunshine; especially if you’re not rugged up in a blanket like we are now.

So, tell me, Eve, what’s gotten you down today? Tell Aunt Josey everything.

I can’t help but laugh at her theatrics. But the last thing I want is to drag the very reason I’ve come out here up again. So, with a tall spine, and in as minimal pain as possible, I play the martyr and act my ass off.

Oh, Josey, it’s terrible. You have no idea. I place the back of my hand against my forehead dramatically. I still haven’t found my guidance animal yet.

She lets go of the assumed breath she was holding and folds over in her chair with laughter.

We need an improv club here. That was brilliant!

That was terrible! I can’t stop the laughter that’s leaving my lips. I have to admit it’s a good release for all the tension I’ve been harboring today.

Josey, when does it get easier? You’ve been here for what, eight months? When will this sense of emptiness disappear? She looks at me. Not with your standard ‘I’m looking at you’ kind of glance but stares right into my eyes as if looking straight through me.

It doesn’t. You learn to live with it, though. You may never feel as if it gets easier, or the past is going to return, but day by day you get a slice of what a new normal is like, and you grasp on to that because otherwise, you’re in your room crying and wishing bad things on the universe. There’s no time for that crap, Eve. No one needs to dwell on what could have been when ultimately, it will never happen.

As her words sink in, I take in all the beautiful plants in the garden. Some with colors so vibrant