Soul Searcher - D.M. Richardson (top 100 novels of all time txt) 📗

caked all the way up to her knees. She turned as a tall blonde woman opened the back door.

“Sara! I told you not to get dirty! Now I have to give you a bath again before we go to church.” Sara dropped her head. “Now get in the house.” the woman looked stern but there was amusement in her eyes, and a smile that was fighting to form on her face. Sara ran into the house.

Shift

Sara was in a formal gown standing on a stage. She looked to be about seven or eight. An older woman placed a crown on her head.

Shift

She stood at a casket looking down at her mother. Her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. She was ten years old. Her father put his arm around her shoulders and cried openly.

Shift

She was a teenager passing out flyers to a bunch of other students. They were for a homecoming committee.

Shift

She was climbing onto the back of a Harley behind Koner.

Shift

She was in another formal gown, but this time it was for prom. She was dancing with Koner and they looked beautiful together.

Shift

She was in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle on her father’s arm. Koner stood at the alter looking great in a tux. He looked star struck as he watched her. He took her hand from her father.

Shift

They were sitting in a doctor’s office, and Sara was crying on Koner’s shoulder. The doctor was telling them Koner was sterile. He offered other alternatives but Sara refused. Koner sat with silent tears.

Shift

She was sitting in a room on the opposite side of the hall from mine. It was decorated as a nursery. She sat in a rocking chair looking at an empty crib with silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

Shift

Sara was on the phone with Jack. He was telling her he had a child he needed placed in their home in the next two days. She had a look of joy on her face.

Shift

I walked through the front door. Looking lost and lonely and scared.

 

I blinked and was brought back to the present with my hands held tightly in hers. She was looking at me expectantly.

“I’m sorry what?” I asked still a little disoriented by the trip through her memories.

“How about we go out. We can bring something home for dinner. Come on lets go celebrate.”

I was about to politely decline but then I really looked at her. She seemed so genuinely excited for me. She was so young and energetic and bubbly. For a moment I saw her again at her mother’s funeral, and crying over an empty crib. She had suffered so much sadness. What’s a couple hours of spending time with her, and risking getting too close if it made her happy. Even if it was only for a couple hours they would still be happy memories to help counter the number of memories filled with tears. So I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face.

“Okay” I watched her eyes widen in happy surprise.

“Really? Oh this will be so fun. We’ll go to mall and go shopping. I have a bunch of money saved up and of course the check came in for you.”

She was babbling a mile a minute while she gathered her purse. But something she said caught my attention.

“What check?” I asked confused I’d never gotten a check other than a paycheck, and I’d already gotten my last check from the diner I’d worked at before. She looked up at me confused.

“The social security check that comes from the foster care office. Here.” she said handing me an envelope. I opened it to see a six hundred dollar check. I closed the envelop and handed it back to her.

“No this is your’s for taking care of me.”

“Oh, but we don’t need it. It’s supposed to be for anything you need, and anything else we don’t mind taking care of.”

“No really, I would really prefer that you kept it. For any extra expense that I cost you. I don’t mind buying my own things, but I know I contribute to your bills. Like food and electric and stuff. I’d feel better if you kept it for anything you needed or wanted. I don’t want to be a burden.” I kept my eyes on the floor when I spoke the last sentence. When I looked back up she looked like she was going to argue further. She must of seen something on my face because she closed her mouth and nodded.

“Okay, well let’s get going. I’d like to be back before Koner gets home.” I nodded and she grabbed her keys, and headed out the door with me on her heels.

 

About twenty minutes later we pulled into the parking lot of the mall. I took a deep breathe before getting out of the car. I hated going to crowded places. Every time I was around a lot of people the pressure at the back of my neck always got worse the longer I was there. Eventually it always ended in a barrage of memories from complete strangers. It always left me almost catatonic. Unable to talk or respond or even see anyone.

I could only hope that she didn’t want to shop for too long. I would smile and act as happy as I could, but I could already feel the pressure starting, regardless of the release I just had.

We walked in the front door and Sara immediately led me to the left towards some clothing stores. The first one we walked into was quiet and almost deserted. Sara led me around some racks babbling about something or other when she stopped and pulled a shirt off the rack and holding it up against me.

“Oh this would look great on you.” I looked down at it and tried not to look like I wanted to vomit.

“Umm bright red really isn’t my color.” she pursed her lips thoughtfully and returned the shirt to it’s place. She tried again with a bright blue, a baby pink, and a neon yellow. Each one earning a more than negative response from me. Finally she sighed and turned to me. “Okay so none of theses are your colors. What is your color exactly?” I looked down at my plain black shirt and held my arms wide. She pursed her lips again. “Okay I can work with that.” she led us out of the store and into another one. She went to the first rack and looked through the clothes. Finally she gave an ah ha and pulled three black shirts and thrust them at me pointing to the dressing room. I sighed and went where she pointed.

The first shirt was long sleeved and tight. I mean really tight. It hugged every aspect of my torso from the middle knuckles on my hands to the edge of my jeans. I looked at myself in the mirror and lifted my arms. Just as I had suspected the shirt rode up to show my lower stomach. This was not the way to avoid attention. In fact it screamed, look at me!

“Come on I want to see.” Sara called from outside the door.

“I don’t think I should”

“Oh come on I’m not good with suspense.” I took a deep breathe. Then another and another.

“Okay” I opened the door slowly and stepped out. She gasped and her mouth dropped open.

“My god. Look at you. You have a figure. And a really nice one too. Why don’t you show it off?”

“I don’t really like a lot of attention.”

“I don’t see why not. You’re hot you should enjoy it. Seriously I mean look at you. You’ve got all the right curves and a flat sculpted stomach.” I could feel myself starting to blush. “Well go on go try on the rest of them.” I nodded and retreated into the dressing room again.

The second shirt was a t-shirt with a scoop neck. It was designed to hang off one shoulder and stay loose until it reached my stomach where it tightened even tighter than the last one. I walked out of the dressing room and she whistled.

“That looks fantastic. We’ll need to get you a strapless bra though.” My eyes widened.

“I cant’ afford this.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous it’s on me.”

“But…”

“Look I’ve suddenly come upon six hundred extra dollars and you said it was for anything I want. Well I want to spend it on getting you some nice clothes. Or have you decided you want it after all?” she raised her eyebrows as she asked the question. I narrowed my eyes a little. She was sneakier than I gave her credit for. She was either going to spend all of the money on me or I would keep the money. Which ever I chose she would still get her way.

“No I don’t want it. It’s your money to spend however you choose.” I answered and she smiled.

“Good now go try on the last one.”

This one looked deceptively like a regular t-shirt on the hanger. Unfortunately it was just as tight as the others. The neck was lower showing a little bit of cleavage. Nothing too indecent but again not a shirt for avoiding notice.

While I was trying on the last shirt she had been gathering others. I stepped out to see her holding five more. Three of them weren’t black.

“Okay so I know you said you didn’t like colors, but I was wondering if you would except dark colors.”

She held up the three she was talking about. One was a dark royal purple, another was a deep forest green, and the third was a midnight blue so dark it could almost be black. I looked them over and nodded. She smiled really wide and handed them to me.

The royal purple as difficult to figure out. It had spaghetti straps in confusing places. It was long sleeved but the sleeved broke at the shoulders and was held to the rest of the fabric by strings meant to go across the shoulders. The fabric was one piece for the underarms and the rest of the shirt. The back had vertical strings that connected the fabric to a strip of clothe that went across the back of the neck. It just showed my shoulder blades. It had a slight scoop neck that showed a tiny bit of cleavage. The rest of the torso was all one piece but just as tight as the rest.

The midnight blue was a simple spaghetti strapped shirt that had little fake diamonds. It looked almost like shooting stars. Again it was form fitting. The forest green shirt was the simplest of them all. It was a t-shirt that fit tight but had a plain front. However the back had crisscrossing straps that crossed over my shoulders.

All in all I ended up with eight shirts. Five black, some with designs, and three with color. Not too bad. After I tried on the last shirt she took them all to the register to pay for them. After she was done and we had our bags she turned to look at me. Pursing her lips yet again.

“You need some decent jeans.” she said nodding to herself.

“There’s nothing wrong with my jeans!” I said indignantly.

“Of course not. Only that they’re boys jeans. You need something more feminine to show of your hips.” she turned and walked out of the store. I held my tongue I knew there was no use arguing. She’d likely just guess my size.

We spent another half hour with me trying on different jeans. She always picked out blue or black jeans. Some had designs and some had holes, but all of them were tight. They hugged my waist and all the way down go just above my knees where they flared to cover my shoes. At the end of that half hour I had the same number of pants as I did shirts.

I was hoping we were done but then she turned to a shoe store. Where she made me pick out