Silence

By Alan Scott

Suicide now is the eighth cause of death in the United States, yet it is discussed in hushed
whispers or not at all.
SILENCE is based, in part, on a true story about a wealthy, respected, successful family; what
many of us would label the "perfect" family. On first blush, it appears to be a story about
reversal of fortunes, but on deeper analysis it is about self-destructive personalities that lead to
suicide. SUICIDE gives the viewing audience the chance to recognize the depths of these
tragedies on small doses until they can get to the point of saying, "Suicide is not a personal
tragedy but a family watershed." The guilt left behind immobilizes even the most stable families
and leaves lifetime emotional scars.
Suicide can be addressed when families grasp the warning signs; rage, hopelessness, loss of
control and important feelings of coping with life.
SILENCE ends by giving people a philosophy that is believed to be the germ of heading off
suicide- "WE all have time to understand and know each other, but we don't.".

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781463437596

Book preview

SILENCE

Alan Scott

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AuthorHouse™

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© 2012 by Alan Scott. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 01/19/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3761-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3760-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3759-6 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011912606

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Other books by Alan Scott

The Will of Our Times

Three Trends on Cue

Forever with the Veiled Lids

Dust and Clay

Just One of Those Stories

Though Youth is Gone

Rest Area

For Mary Commer, Sue Germain, and Paul Stanton with love…

Chapter 1

EARLY SATURDAY MORNING, CHILDREN, PARENTS, and horses alike had all been up since the crack of dawn, preparing for another sure-to-be-successful equestrian event. The constant buzz of activity swarmed around the entire indoor arena. In the farthest corner of the arena were the stables. The smell of horse manure was almost too much to bear for the mothers visiting their young riders in their riding jackets.

A chunk of the Peterson family was surrounding the main event for the day; their prize winning horse and their prize winning son, Adam. Last minute details were being perfected as someone shouted that there was five minutes left until the first rider would be called out.

Adam Peterson tugged at the edge of his show coat. He was hardly nervous until the moment his name would be called to ride out in front of the crowd. His right hand rested on his horse’s neck and his short fingers curled in her long soft mane. This was the second year he was competing with the same horse, and despite his youth, he admired the way her muscles glided under her russet-colored skin when she moved.

Adam’s mother, Carol, a stunning and well kept woman in her late thirties, patted her son’s soft blond hair. Make sure you put on that helmet securely, she chided her only son.

Adam rolled his eyes, I know that, mom! He smiled a cheeky grin towards his mother to assure her that his attitude wasn’t to be taken seriously and pulled on his horse’s reins. Carol had the horse’s saddle in her arms and she reached up to settle it snugly on the horse’s back. Handing his mother the reins, Adam got to work on clinching up the buckles.

James Peterson, a large framed man in his late sixties, made his way towards his wife and son. He handed Adam his helmet which he had tucked under his arm on the walk over.

Thanks, dad! Adam put on his helmet and tugged on the straps. He pulled his gloves on as his dad glanced over to the Esquebar’s, the Peterson’s neighbors. Juan and his son Michael were preparing their horse, same as Adam had done moments ago. Michael and Adam had been close friends since their first day of the third grade.

No problem, son, James assured his son. Honey, he looked towards his wife, Carol, Why don’t you meet up with Camilla? I’m sure she’s looking for you.

All right, Carol agreed. She bent down and gave Adam a kiss on the cheek. Good luck. You’ll do great honey. With a wave, she walked out of the stables in search of her friend.

Bring home another red ribbon, Adam. James handed Adam his crop and helped his son mount his horse.

I will, dad. Adam winked at his father, rode out of the stable, and into the paddock where he waited for his name to be called.

What a great son, James said out loud.

Hey, I heard that neighbor. We both have terrific sons, said Juan Esquebar, a man in his early forties with slicked back hair and olive complexion. He patted James shoulder.

Well, that’s how I raise ALL of my children. James boasted proudly.

Yes, well, I’m glad our sons are such good friends. Let’s go find the girls; they’re holding our seats in the grandstand. Juan was already walking ahead with a smile on his face. He loved seeing his son have fun in all of the different activities he participated in.

Damn, James cursed under his breath.

What’s wrong? Juan cocked an eyebrow.

I left my sunglasses in the car. I’ll catch up with you.

All right, Juan nodded.

James rushed out into the parking lot. He remembered exactly where he parked his Lincoln Towncar and made his way toward it. He fumbled with his keys for a moment before shoving the key into the hole and climbed into the driver’s seat. The leather made an awful sound as he shifted his weight to reach under the passenger seat and pull out his silver flask. He took a few gulps and a gust of air escaped his lips as his body relaxed into the chair.

After a short moment, James shoved the flask back underneath the seat and grabbed his sunglasses from the rearview mirror. Sliding them onto his head, he stumbled out of the car and slammed the door shut.

James quickly walked towards the entrance and on the way to the grandstand, noticed the bar and Fred’s familiar tall and muscular frame.

Fred smiled politely at James, who seemed to be enjoying his life, and set down a glass onto the counter. Hi there, Mr. Peterson, the usual? James only nodded in response. How is that land deal going?

James leaned against the counter. Haven’t you heard what is going on in the real estate market? It’s a mess! What the hell do these young punks knows about business? I’ll tell you, he paused dramatically. Nothing! Add two seven-ups and a coke for my wife and neighbors, will you Fred?

Right, Fred nodded in agreement. He handed James his usual and got to work on the other drinks. Well, Mr. Peterson, land here in Huntington Meadow is sure going downhill fast! What are you going to do? What’s your next move?

You know me. I’ll find a way. No one will stand in my way if they know what the hell is good for them. James brought the glass to his lips and downed the contents at once. Fred raised his eyebrows.

Can I get you another one? Fred asked without judgment.

Sure, you know how I like it.

Fred set the drinks for James’ wife and neighbors onto a tray and set it carefully aside. He poured mostly Vodka into a clear glass with an ounce of orange juice.

Thanks Fred, charge it to my tab and put a ten-spot on for yourself. James slapped the counter with his hand and walked away.

Fred called out after James, Thanks! I hope things work out for you.

When James found his wife and their neighbors, he sat down carefully with the tray of their drinks in his hands. He passed the drinks to the others while Carol eyed him suspiciously. Where have you been, James? The boys have already started.

I didn’t miss Adam’s performance did I? It would crush his heart. James leaned back in his seat and acknowledged that Michael was jumping. He pursed his lips and took a sip from his drink.

No, you didn’t miss him. Carol hadn’t forgotten her question. She whispered from her seat next to his, Where were you?

James sighed. I forgot my sunglasses in the car, Carol, and I was getting Juan and Camilla some drinks. Now would you relax? His voice was stern and stressed.

Carol glanced nervously towards her neighbors and was glad to see they were enveloped in Michael’s last jump to notice their squabble.

You don’t have to shout, she said calmly.

For the love of God, I’m not shouting, he stated, clearly irritated. The crowd interrupted any further argument as they all stood up from their seats and clapped in approval of Michael’s performance. Beside them, Juan whistled loudly.

Up next is number twenty-two, Adam Peterson! The announcer informed the stadium. Obviously a crowd favorite, the audience applauded when Adam trotted out on his horse with a determined look on his young face.

The crowd was hooked on Adam’s jumps and excellent maneuvering with the horse. "You’d think him and the horse are