The Soul Seekers

By Amy K. Bond

Everyone is a soul seeker. From the college professor who seems to have all the answers, to the top executive of a thriving Savings and Loan, to the leader of a group of terrorists on the other side of the world. No matter who you are or what you have accomplished in your lifetime, the questions surrounding the meaning of your life always surface and always when you least expect it.

Nevada Leigh Rain, abandoned, homeless and heartbroken, searches for a reason to continue on with her life. Captain Elliott Townsend Jr., of the Salvation Army Shelter in the slums of Seattle, Washington, travels beyond his call of duty to reach her, and then, to the ends of the earth to forget her.

These loveable characters, along with a host of others are all searching, but for what? The longing in their hearts leads them into the battlefields of love and war as they search for clues to support the purpose of their existence, and a cause that's worth living for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 9, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469748733

Amy K. Bond

Amy K. Bond lives in Baker City, Oregon, with her husband and two young sons. She is also the author of The Soul Seekers.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Nev would have slept longer if it hadn’t been for that sound. The delicate and cheerful ting-a-ling from the bell on a child’s bike stood out amidst a sea of hurried traffic on both foot and wheel. It wasn’t that it was loud, just out of place and familiar in an eerie sort of way. Nev’s nostrils flared as she took in the fragrance of fresh-cut hay and home-baked cornbread cooling on the windowsill. Her memory enveloped her very being, whisking her away to another place in time.

Lady? intruded a squeaky voice from a tiny person smacking on a sucker, Mama says not to talk to strangers like you `cause yous on druds.

Nev’s consciousness emerged from its protective fog to behold the epitome of innocence. She was personified in pigtails and riding a trike. Nev looked her over, resenting her every feature right down to her sucker stained lips and fingers. Still trying to catch what she had just heard Nev groggily asked, What?

Libby! Come here this instant! her mother sternly scolded, while holding a second child on her hip. The young, well-dressed brunette, hurried over to where the confusing conversation was taking place and grasped the child’s sticky hand. As she led Libby away, she looked back scornfully at Nevada.

The small bottle of gin Nev had bought from Carlos was empty. It was hardly enough to get even a buzz, but at least she tried. It was becoming more and more evident that if she were to stay alive, she would have to finally turn to Carlos and his many career opportunities. Looking to that snake for help had never been an option until now, but with the bridges she’d burned at the downtown shelter, Nev was beginning to feel she’d left herself no other out. She sat back on the park bench and turned her face to the sun, not noticing how it cast silvery stripes in the passing clouds and thought, How did I ever let my life get this bad? But when she let herself be honest, she knew.

There was no one Nev could call family, none that were worth the quarter anyhow, and home was now more of a figurative term than an actual physical place. Her old imaginary playmates, Micky, Nanan & Marnie, had also disappeared. However, she remembered them nostalgically, conceding how their company could have been helpful in these unsettled times of her life. At eight, Nevada Leigh Rain was taken in by her grandparents while Mama was committed to a California hospital to sort things out. It was the best year of her life. Grandma always had warm and delicious food on the counter and in the refrigerator for her granddaughter at all times. The clothing Nev wore was old but clean and Grandma worked hard to ensure that what she wore was nicely pressed. Nev would anxiously count the days each week until Sunday and church, when she would play with other children her age and afterwards go to a potluck, or to brunch at the local hotel. Sunday nights brought them all back to church again for choir practice, Easter or Christmas plays, or anything else the brethren could think up to fellowship, Grandpa hosted a barn raising in August and all the neighbors came to build the barn in just one day. These memories Nev kept protected in the secret spaces of her heart. The resurfacing of these nostalgic moments was becoming more frequent as Nev found that escaping into fantasy helped her cope with daily life. On her ninth birthday, Grandma had given her a small lady’s compact mirror with a Bible verse inscribed inside. The verse was more than a child of nine could ever comprehend, and even as an adult it meant very little. But, because it was all that was left of Grandma and the one happy year of her life, Nev treasured it. It was safely tucked between her sleeping bag and a Red Cross issued blanket, which Nev pulled around in a small luggage cart.

The cart was not otherwise heavy laden. Throughout her life, Nev learned to pack light, aside from Grandma’s gift and her memories, she didn’t take to collecting things. Keeping her cart free of heavy debris helped her elude Carlos when she needed to, and that was worth more than additional luxuries. In addition, Nev had realized more than once how very little a person needed to survive. For the past year, she had made it on luck and a fear of dying alone. But now, even death was beginning to sound better than working for Carlos.

Nev scanned the courtyard for a new distraction to quiet her mind. A fit woman in tights and a baseball cap, jogged along the sidewalk perimeter pushing a double stroller. In the stroller, two blond boys, no older than two and three, happily rode along while sipping on tippy-cups. At that point, Nev realized that her situation, could be worse for at least, she hadn’t any children in tow.

How horrible that would be, she thought bitterly. Then, although she tried to fight it, a most painful memory surfaced. An emotional knife that cut so deep she wished she could bleed to death. It was of Hope Adriana.

CHAPTER 2

Marilyn busied herself with packing. So much had to be done today and she had so little time. At least the task at hand took away from her aching heart. She couldn’t help but think about her boys, still so young and so impressionable, how would they ever make it through their teenage years without her? She felt her throat tighten and fought the waterfall.

No! This is no time to wallow in self-pity, I’ve got to stay focused and get organized, she said to herself. Her organization was Marilyn McCormick’s greatest attribute to her company. It had put her where she was, as CFO and one of the most highly respected business women in Seattle.

Somehow between countless meetings, business lunches, speeches, trips and projects, Marilyn had managed to be a mother to her two sons, William and Benjamin. Her husband, Bradford, was a highly acclaimed anchorman for King 5, Seattle’s most watched nightly news, and had won many journalistic honors himself. As far as anyone could tell, they had it all, a perfect example of the American Dream in action. With their combined success, careers, wealth, and a family which seemed to be functioning properly, no one could have asked for anything more. Marilyn shuttered as she pictured the future for all of them. This would be a horrible blow. This would change their lives forever. She pressed her hand firmly against the painful lump under her right arm, and wished she had not waited so long…too long.

No matter how many years, miles, or chemical substance’s Nev put between herself and her baby girl, she never found refuge from the pain that accompanied leaving her. All it took was the cry from a child or a fragrance or even the time of year she was born, to freshen the well dressed wound and make Nev want to die all over again.

She is three years old now, she thought. If only things had been different.

The newspapers around her, rustled in the morning breeze and some took flight. Under her seat she tethered the page which held her horoscope as it always provided hope, and a means of temporary escape. As she sat and continued to ponder the whereabouts and well being of Hope, she realized just how much of her life consisted of if only’s connected by a chain of bad decisions, all of which led her right back to her park bench home. At least, she could rest in the fact that Hope had probably been adopted into a caring family who would provide her with good food and clean clothes. Nev relaxed as she once again tamed her worst demon with that justification.

Hope Adriana Rain was the product of a love affair gone terribly one way. When she was eighteen, Nev left the custody of the State and several foster homes behind in Nebraska. Grandma and Grandpa had been gone for several years by then, casualties of a robust influenza bug in old, frail bodies. Having felt like a fifth wheel everywhere she went, Nevada was relived while selling what little she owned for a one-way bus ticket westbound. No one saw her off at the station, but she preferred solitude rather than being a burden to anyone any longer. The trip was long, and after sleeping through several stops the kind driver inquired about her destination. Not wanting to reveal her lack of forethought on the matter, Nevada disembarked at the very next stop. Somewhere in California, she would find the answers to the questions that haunted her. Somewhere in California, she’d belong.

The Holiday Inn of Ontario had a help-wanted sign in its window and Nev took her first job waiting tables in the coffee shop. She couldn’t have felt more grown up. Her employer, Mr. Downs, took pity on her and allowed her to live at the motel in vacant rooms adjusting her check as payment for rent. Nev was happy to be on her own, finally free to do whatever she wanted and to fulfill her dreams. She wasn’t sure, what those dreams consisted of, but Nev knew in time she’d have it all thought out. The hitch in developing her master plan was an irresistibly attractive bar singer named David. He had only to sing one note and Nev was enthralled. At twenty-eight, David was slightly wiser to the world. Within hours of their meeting, Nev was already dreaming of him romantically. He looked very attractive on stage, playing his guitar furiously for some songs and so sincerely on others. Nev thought her heart would burst with his every look and she would purposely walk the long way to the kitchen so she could steal a peak at him through the bar. Her efforts didn’t go unnoticed and before too long she found herself in the arms of this Elvis-like lounge singer, completely in love.

When David and his band took a job at a Hilton in Los Angeles, Nev went along and worked as a maid. For months, everything couldn’t have been more perfect. The trashy apartment Nev shared with David and the band members seemed like a penthouse. She stayed quite busy cleaning up after them. Her days off were spent painting and decorating, anything to please David and to be a part of this makeshift family. Nev and David continued to grow closer until one morning in April Nev awoke with a most peculiar feeling. The aroma of stale beer and hard alcohol from the previous night’s partying had never nauseated her before. She always got up extra early after such nights to clean the apartment and start coffee for the thoroughly hung-over members of the household. Today however, her usual need to please was overshadowed by an undeniable urge to vomit. Her condition soon became obvious and two weeks later, without warning Nev returned home from work to find that she had been abandoned. David and his crew were gone, leaving behind nothing but a note, scribbled hurriedly on a pizza box, explaining that at this crucial time in his career, David couldn’t afford to make time for a family.

Nev had seen her share of tragedy in her young life, but nothing could have prepared her for this. She fantasized that her weeping would be carried on the wind to David’s ears and he would come back for her. But days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. Nev instead redirected her efforts and natural instincts toward surviving without him.

If I only had been a stay-at-home Mom. Marilyn fought the tears. Then I could have had more time with them. All the money and possessions that accompanied her success meant nothing to her now. Every big promotion had sent them all out to a fine dinner to celebrate, after her boys had spent twelve hours a day, five days a week in daycare, now seemed horrifying. Catching a true look at herself, in the reflection of her office window, she suddenly became overwhelmed with her feelings of guilt. Marilyn finally gave in to her emotions and collapsed into her desk chair sobbing, completely unhappy with whom she was and what she had become.

It isn’t fair that I’m going through this alone, she thought, It is long past time I told Bradford.

Marilyn had kept her secret from her family and friends so as not to worry anyone unnecessarily. In keeping with the positive attitude that made her so popular, she didn’t allow herself to worry either. But as hind sight is always 20/20, Marilyn realized that she should have at least gone to her doctor sooner for the results of her most recent biopsy, was unquestionably positive for Hodgekins Lymphoma. Her personal physician’s office had called earlier that morning, asking to set up an appointment to discuss the test results but Marilyn’s harried schedule wouldn’t allow it. Against her physician’s advise, she had demanded the results be faxed to her personal office where she could view them for herself. Marilyn sorted through her conversation with Dr. Spencer again in her mind.

I’m afraid this is a most rapid progressive type of cancer, he said with compassion. The treatment is aggressive and still the prognosis is not good in most cases. In yours in particular, the cancer has spread into the majority of your upper body lymph nodes.

How much time? she asked, cutting him off.

With treatment, nine months, maybe a year if we are lucky. Dr. Spencer replied with a sigh.

Marilyn replayed the conversation again and again in her mind, looking to uncover any shred of hope, any possibility that it was all a mix up. Maybe her test had been switched with some other patient and hers was actually a clean bill of health. The shock was still fresh and so was the urge to deny the entire situation. Marilyn reminded herself that she couldn’t afford to waste any more time. She dialed her husband’s cellular number and drew a cleansing breath.

Honey, do you have a minute? I’ve got to talk to you about something…very important.

CHAPTER 3

Nev dug around in the luggage cart until she found her compact mirror. Inside was a trimmed photograph of Hope. She opened it and gazed at the newborn, wondering what she might look like now. Nev again felt fortunate that Hope was even alive, for Nev’s pregnancy and delivery were difficult to say the least. Her morning sickness got her in trouble at work more than once and in July she was finally let go for failing to show up on several occasions. She received no prenatal care, partly out of naivete, and partly out of shame. Still, there would have been no amount of natural child birth coaching or live birth video tapes could have prepared her for the trauma of delivery or the onslaught of emotion that would follow. For turning a blind eye to a whole host of dangers, Nev had decided to deliver her baby on her own.

No one had to tell her she was in labor, she’d been told countless horror stories from every mother she’d met over the past nine months. All about the onset of pain, transition and then joyous life! But this wasn’t a joyous event for Nevada. The chances of her baby even surviving were slim at best and Nev felt that it would probably be better off dead anyway. With so many things that could go wrong, Nev had set out to harden her heart against the child, if it lived. No plans of mothering were entertained, just an anonymous delivery to the nearest hospital and a quick exit, with a note explaining her dire circumstances. If the baby were to die, the situation would become even more complicated. Burial would be extremely difficult to get away with and the poor child at least deserved some sort of coffin or headstone. Nev had heard of dead babies turning up in garbage cans or in rivers and the mothers were always found and sent to prison. Regardless of her feelings of resentment, she didn’t want to do wrong by this child. After all, it wasn’t the baby’s