Paragon Multimedia LLC. Chandler, Arizona This Is a Work of Fiction

Paragon Multimedia LLC. Chandler, Arizona This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. Silent Discourse All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2008 Zanne Kennedy VII This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Paragon Multimedia LLC. http://www.paragon-multimedia.com ISBN: 978-0-9823371-0-3 (Previously ISBN 978-1-4327-1755-1 and 978-1-4327-2052-0) Paragon Multimedia LLC and the “Paragon” logo are copyrighted and belong to Paragon Multimedia LLC. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA To reorder: www.zannekennedy.com Acknowledgments The author would like to acknowledge the following: God and His unconditional love. After all, God’s unfailing love is the story I live in! David Morrow, editing, lawful counsel and constant loving support. Together we may finally discover what ‘glu-glux of the blowhole’ really means. Brian Morrow, for your great sense of humor, wonderful financial tidbits, and counsel. For your unwavering love, support and prayers. For loving the bird lady in spite of herself. Erin Dodson, who laughed in all the right places. For reading my books just because I asked while taking care of your husband, two children, and Aunt. For falling in love with Nicolaus and his friends, but mostly, for your constant love, support and prayers. Jean Kennedy, for your constant love, support, and prayers. For reading and editing. For staying up all night crying at the sad parts. Nick Kennedy, for your constant love, support, and prayers. Pearl G., for being a God-sent friend. For loving God with your entire mind, body, soul, and spirit right out in front of all of us. Lori Heyd, for encouraging me to start, and not give up. For your advice & spiritual support. Editors: Millie Hannum, You are a God sent, and what timing! Cheryl Booth, editor, for taking up the wand and adding the finishing touch of magic. Cheryl is also a ghostwriter—for more details, visit: www.gr8writing.com or email [email protected]] Artist: Cali McCullough, for going to Lancaster County for a photo shoot ten days before your wedding. Sue Cullumber, for your great photos visit, http://auniqueviewphotography.com Readers: Angela Bolton, Vickie Bolton, and Shelley Moreno For all the comments, suggestions and creativity. Thank you! To Amy Aston, for being Nicolaus’s expert poker guru. I would also like to thank all the readers that pick up Silent Discourse and the series; those who have fallen in love with Nicolaus and those who find a deeper relationship with God through Nicolaus’s life story. Zanne Kennedy, author of: Silent Discourse, Still, Small Voice, Profound Silence, Dissonant Melody, Beautiful Conflict, and Righteous Revenge Silent Discourse series Silent Discourse Still, Small Voice Profound Silence Dissonant Melody Beautiful Conflict Righteous Revenge (forthcoming) In Loving Memory of Roy and Helen Morrow In Honor of Nick and Jean Kennedy Silent Discourse Chapter 1 December 1, 1955 Nicolaus “TruTh” he night was ominous and had begun to merge into a winter blizzard that raged brutally outside; it would Tlikely last past the first hint of dawn. The fierce wind blasted against the upstairs windows, evidence of the violent ambiance outside. By the ghostly golden glow of a kerosene lantern, the scene that was being played out in the Zooks’s upstairs birthing room this evening was not one of excited anticipation. The roar of the storm was loud enough to almost mask the screams of pain that became wearier as the night progressed. “Lizzy, how much longer?” Jacob asked one of the midwives as she made her way into the kitchen for more hot water and towels. “Jacob, I suggest you send for the doctor. The child is breech. If Esther delivers tonight, I doubt seriously that the child will live.” “No matter the child, do not allow Esther to die. Promise me, Lizzy. Don’t let my wife die.” Jacob grasped onto Lizzy’s arm and refused to let her go. “If you stay, be in prayer then,” she said, calming his fears with a pat of her hand and a soothing smile, which was interrupted by another bloodcurdling scream from the birthing room. “I believe it’s time,” she said softly. Cora, Lizzy’s sister, nodded to her from between Esther’s legs and said in an even tone, “If you will hold on to her, I think I can manage to ease this child feet first into this world.” 1 Zanne Kennedy Esther let out another scream and clinched hard onto Lizzy’s wrists. Lizzy climbed behind Esther in order to help her push, an unbearable undertaking for Esther. “Wait, Esther, don’t push yet, dear. The cord is wrapped around your child’s neck. I will ease it off while you collect your energy for the next contraction.” Cora slid her dainty hand into the opening, pushing the child’s rump up and out of the way to venture past it to its head and neck. She could feel the next contraction start to take hold and rushed to finish the job at hand. The cord was indeed just under the child’s chin. In order to deliver it safely as a breech, she would have to slide her finger between it and its neck, and then bring the cord over its face, an easy task if the child had decided to come into this world the normal way. “There! Push now, darling,” Cora called out, bracing herself for the child’s entry. The wind moaned mournfully with velocity against the window, drowning out Esther’s screams for mercy as the child finally emerged. The child’s long legs and small hips emerged first, then his broad shoulders, and lastly his head, causing Esther to gasp with a ripping pain that tore her. “It’s a boy, and he’s alive!” Cora cried out, somewhat in a state of shock that he was indeed alive and seemly in good spirits, unlike his mother. “Goodness! I need to stop this bleeding or we will have a child with no mother.” Cora stood and handed the infant to Lizzy to bathe and calm him, for his cries resounding throughout the house were loud and strong. “Ok?” Lizzy asked as she bent to watch her sister add the last stitch, repairing the tender torn flesh. “She, too, will live. Rest now, Esther. Your child will need a name. Have you and Jacob chosen one for him?” “Nicolaus,” Esther whispered as she looked up at her son 2 Silent Discourse and reached for him. He was placid now, the cries and the crash of the storm seemingly ceasing at the same time. “I hope I’m not too late.” A familiar voice came from the doorway; it was Betsy, Jacob’s sister. She was carrying another kerosene lamp and holding it high to see more clearly. She took the child without asking and cradled him in her arms as if he were hers; she had none of her own. She carried him out to meet his father, unwrapped his covering, and exposed the dark wet curls upon his head. “Jacob—your son. His name is Nicolaus,” Betsy said cautiously. Jacob looked down at the child. “He is the devil’s child. I curse him with a curse of devastation on whatever he touches. Take him from my house.” He spoke so low, Cora and Lizzy could not make out what he had said, but Betsy heard him loud and clear. He then turned his back to the child and walked away. “This child will be special,” Betsy said as she smiled down at the small frail creature in her arms, not allowing the reaction of his father to dull this miraculous moment. ~ may, 1969 age 14 Nicolaus tiptoed down the wooden stairs that led into their big rustic family room, being mindful of the notoriously creaky floorboard at the bottom. The golden light of early morning washed over the room and he paused for a moment, enjoying the silence and peacefulness that remained here. Leaving quietly by the kitchen door, he carefully closed it behind him, holding solid to the knob that had rattled for as long as Nicolaus could remember. He was cautious not to 3 Zanne Kennedy disturb his parents who were still in morning prayer. As the door secured behind him, Nicolaus jolted off into a dead run, scattering chickens in his path as they squawked their alarm. The brisk May morning air felt like tiny pinpricks to his cheeks as he ran along the country road he knew so well, which was shaded heavily by large, old oaks, like sentries standing guard. The lane was sheltered from the sun during the early spring months, allowing only a few rays of light to filter in from above. The shadows cast a scene on the path before him that made Nicolaus think of the nearby town’s stained-glass church windows that he had seen while growing up in his small Pennsylvania community. The area had been settled in the late 1800s by a group of Amish families passing through looking to start farms and homestead on available land in the area. The soil was fertile for planting, and a few families turned into many.

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