Jacqueline Brown - Before the Silence

Copyright 2017 by Jacqueline Brown

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by

Falling Dusk Publishing.

www.Jacqueline-Brown.com

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover art by Aero Gallerie.

Also by Jacqueline Brown:

The Light: Who do you become when the world falls away?

Through the Ashes, Book Two of The Light Series

From the Shadows, Book Three of The Light Series

Into the Embers, Book Four of The Light Series

Out of the Darkness, Book Five of The Light Series

Click to join the mailing list , or visit www.Jacqueline-Brown.com

This story is dedicated to all who live quiet, peaceful lives trying to do what is right.

J uliette sat on the bench, staring absently at the front door, her fingers moving automatically across the piano keys. She had begun playing an hour ago, when her father should have been coming through the doorway. Shed already played The Sound of Silence three times in hopes his favorite song would summon him home. Why was he so late and why tonight, of all nights? Hed said hed be home early. The office would be empty, and he could catch up on his work and still make it home for an early dinner. She played faster now, her anxiety increasing. She hated when he was late.

From her place at the kitchen sink, Camille listened to her twelve-year-old daughter play. The meatloaf sat on a platter on the counter, cooling. Camille glanced at the clock: after seven. If John wasnt home in ten minutes, she would feed the kids. He wouldnt mind; he never did.

Hed texted that afternoon, saying the day was not going well. Ridiculously, his brief text had brought tears to her eyes. Theyd stayed in town this week to allow him the advantage of a quiet congressional buildingdespite the pleadings of both their mothers to bring the kids home for Thanksgiving. Now it seemed they had chosen to spend Thanksgiving in this godforsaken city for no reason. Again she blinked the tears away, knowing she needed to at least pretend to have it together for the kids. Theyd been through enough.

Juliette was a quiet child by nature, and the difficulties of the past year had reinforced that reclusiveness. Camille often sat watching her daughter stare at walls. Camille realized the move had been an awful mistake. She knew John had to run for office. It had been placed on his heart and things placed on hearts were best done. Yet she wondered if they should have done what so many other politicians families do and live separately during session. The problem was she and John were madly in love and madly in love with their kids. The thought of their living apart was even worse than the thought of living in Arlington. Camille blamed John. If he wasnt such a good man, none of this would be an issue. He wouldnt have won. But even if he had, she and the kids could have lived back at home without him.

The problem wasnt their family. The family had been fine for the last fifteen yearsbetter than fine. The problem was this place. Here in this town that supposedly loved diversity, people stared at her family. Juliette always noticed, and even their son, Johnny, noticed some of the time. How could he not? The people were usually staring at him. Camille hated those stares most, and it was all she could do not to fight back against the disgust spewed at her son. When the stares focused on her, they were accusatory, as if she had done something wrong by giving him life. These she could handle much better. A mother could always handle attacks against herself better than she could attacks against her child.

It was during their first week in DC that Juliette had asked her mother why people looked at Johnny the way they did.

Camille drew her close. Juliette was the child everyone knew she and John were destined to create: brilliant, sensitive, kind, beautiful. The perfect combination of her parents. Perhaps that was why so many of their friends had struggled when Johnny was born and the diagnosis was undeniable.

Some people dont like people who are different, especially when they consider that difference a disability. Camille had kept her voice low, though she knew Johnny couldnt hear her words from his room at the other end of the spacious apartment.

His disability, as others called it, was one of the greatest blessings of her life. Not only was it a core part of who her son was, but through his differences her own understanding of life had deepened. Johnny had in many ways saved her soulor at least made her more compassionateand more understanding that within life there were layers and a depth that most never saw. Not because it was hidden. On the contrary. It was always there, but so were the distractions.

But, Juliette said in a near whisper, hes just a fifteen-year-old boy whos never done anything purposefully mean in his whole life. How could they not like him? She sniffled, trying not to cry.

She loved her big brother and was unceasingly patient with him, something Camille had always marveled at.

I dont know, honey. Some people are scared of people who are different. Sometimes that fear leads people to think the person who is different isnt as worthy or valuable, Camille said, knowing she herself had once believed that. She never thought children like her son shouldnt exist, but she did, long ago, believe they mattered less. She cringed involuntarily at the memory of her younger self.

Juliettes face turned red with anger. Thats ridiculous. Johnny is no less valuable, no less important. God loves him as much as anyone and thats what matters, not what he can or cant do.

Camille pulled her daughter to her shoulder and silently thanked God her daughter was nothing like her as a young girl. Thats right, sweetie, but not everyone believes that.

But they should! Juliette said as she lifted her head and stared into her mothers eyes.

Camille laughed. I know, but the beautiful thing about our country is people are allowed to believe differently than we do.

People shouldnt be allowed to be stupid and mean, Juliette said, crossing her arms.

Camille ran her fingers through her daughters hair. You are right people should not be mean, but you need to be careful not to see your beliefs as the only ones allowed. It is true we should have strong beliefs within ourselves and our families, and we should understand clearly what they are and why we hold them. But we must accept that others might see the world differently. Its how a democracy works, and for all of its failings, I would much rather be here in a democracy than anywhere else.

Juliette knew better than to continue this discussion. Her parents were hopelessly patriotic and demanded that their children respect others, even when they disagreed with them. It was the reason her father had run for Congress and why so many had supported him during his campaign.

~

J uliette sat on the bench as the sun crept over and lit the pages of the partially filled composition sheets. The music she composed came from some deep part of her soul, a part that only music could reach. It often made those who listened cry. Sometimes for joy, sometimes for sorrow. This reaction pleased Juliette. Reaching the depths of a persons soul and bringing forth emotions they never expectedits what every composer dreams of doing. Nothing brought her as much peace or as much joy as when she was composing. Time stopped and hours seemed like minutes. Her mother homeschooled her to allow her this freedom. Juliette knew this time was a gift.