Hard Silence Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t even have footprints in the pile. However, the formal dining room had been repurposed for a study. Judging by the color scheme and the photos, it was Hank Simon’s domain. And for a while, it would be Jeff’s.
    He sat in the wooden office chair, kicked his feet onto the desk, and looked at shelves full of books that didn’t belong to him, trophy fish he hadn’t caught, and plaid curtains.
    After starting his laptop, he lifted his binder full of notes from the nearest chair and found where he’d left off yesterday afternoon. The cursor blinked.
    “Dammit all to hell.” He put both feet on the floor and typed the two words that had been lurking in the back of his mind since he’d left Abby yesterday. Selective mutism .
    Capable of speech but doesn’t speak to certain people or in certain situations. Bingo. He flipped to a clean page in his notebook, picked up a pencil, and listed Abby’s symptoms.
    OCD. Everything was in order. You could eat off the floor in her stable. And yesterday had been the first time he’d seen her rumpled and out of sorts. Check.
    Intelligent. Her eyes crackled with it. Check.
    It could be tied to shyness, but that didn’t sound right. She was quiet around people she’d known for years. She was more at ease with him, most of the time.
    Another possibility was social anxiety. Fear of rejection didn’t ring true. People in Fiddler loved her. But fear of not being good enough? That could be. Her best friend Maggie could buy the state of Idaho, and she did spend most of her time with the Junior League crowd.
    He read further. She could have been treated as a child. Why hadn’t her parents insisted? Where were her parents, anyway?
    Without treatment, her silence would have become self-fulfilling. The longer she’d gone without speaking, the more difficult it had become. He looked at all the forms of the disorder, and only two fit—symbiotic and reactive.
    Symbiotic mutism indicated a controlling parent, usually a mother. Since Abby’s mother wasn’t around, that wasn’t a relationship he could observe. The other indication was a child manipulating their environment and the people in it. Many people used silence strategically, benefitting from the bribes others gave to make them talk, garnering attention. But that didn’t make sense. Abby went out of her way to stay invisible and independent.
    However, silence was also an effective method of pushing people away, of isolating yourself. Living out here would reinforce that behavior. She was so busy farming she only had time for friends on her terms.
    Reactive mutism made him nauseous. He imagined Abby as a child, with pigtails and serious eyes. Surely no one had hurt her. Maggie would know. Gray would have said something.
    He stood and paced the room, stopped and stared out the window. The drive was lined with evergreen trees. Blooming dogwoods sparkled in the sunshine. His mother loved dogwoods. He should call her before she started to worry.
    He refilled his coffee and walked outside, inhaling deeply as he slid his earpiece into place. He calculated the time difference and how long it should have taken him to get here. If he’d driven exactly the speed limit and only for eight-hour days. Yesterday would have been too early. This morning was possible.
    He dialed his mother’s number.
    “Hi, Mama.”
    “Jeff! Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine, don’t worry. I just wanted to let you know I got here.”
    “Just now? You made good time.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He cringed at the lie, but if he told her the truth she’d worry.
    “You must’ve left Billings early. Did you get enough—”
    “Don’t worry,” he repeated. “How’s everything there?”
    His mother launched into the rapid-fire gossip delivery she’d developed over years of rushing details between demands on his time. Jeff listened the way he’d learned to do, plucking facts from the stream like fish. Her upcoming retirement, his grandparents, his sisters,