Lucy and Charlie Tuttle agree on one thing: they’re committed to each other for life. Trouble is, neither of them expected life to look like this. While Charlie retired early, Lucy is devoted to a long-term career . . . until the day she has no choice. Forced to retire from her position as music educator in a small Midwestern K-8 school, Lucy can only watch helplessly as the program her father started years ago disintegrates before her eyes. As the music fades and a chasm separates her from the passion of her heart, Lucy wonders if her faith’s song has gone silent, too. The musical score of her life seems to be missing all the notes. When a simple misstep threatens to silence Lucy forever, a young boy and his soundless mother change the way she sees—and hears—everything. Music taught Lucy love and beauty. Could silence teach her hope? Cynthia Ruchti tells stories hemmed in hope. She’s the award-winning author of 16 books and a frequent speaker for women’s ministry events. She serves as the Professional Relations Liaison for American Christian Fiction Writers, where she helps retailers, libraries, and book clubs connect with the authors and books they love. She lives with her husband in Central Wisconsin. Visit her online at CynthiaRuchti.com. Song of Silence By Cynthia Ruchti Abingdon Press Copyright © 2016 Cynthia Ruchti All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4267-9149-9 CHAPTER 1 Lucy removed her glasses and watched Ellie's thin, thirteen-year-old fingers splay against the girl's too-flat stomach. "Try it," Lucy said. "I don't have much breath." "I know." The confession drilled so much deeper than it would have coming from any of Lucy's other students. "Please try." She watched as Ellie struggled to fill her scarred lungs from the bottom without moving her upper chest or shoulders. The girl's hand moved an inch. "Now, inhale and exhale without letting your hand move at all." "I can't." Lucy tilted her head, eyebrows raised, wordlessly urging a response from Ellie. Ellie smiled. "Time to be brave? Braver than I feel?" "Right." Lucy traced the girl's line of sight to one of the dozens of motivational posters on the wall. Be Brave. Braver than you feel. Next to it, Right or wrong, blow it strong. Beside that one, Practice doesn't make perfect. It makes possible. Lucy's favorite, Just so you know, dogs don't eat music homework. "Deep breath from the bottom of your lungs. Push your abdomen out to allow air in. Hold it. Now two small breaths in and out without moving your hand. There! You did it!" Ellie pressed her lips together but couldn't stop the smile that overrode her efforts. "I didn't think I could." "Now, let's try that technique for these four measures." Lucy pointed to the sheet on the music stand. "Keep that expansion in your tummy, even though you'll have to breathe. See if it doesn't help you maintain that beautiful tone you've been working on." The girl raised the silver flute to her pursed lips, a mix of eagerness and skepticism on her face. She exaggerated the movement of her abdomen, her striped shirt proving her obedience, and played the specified measures. Ellie's eyes flashed her reaction before she lowered her flute. "That," she said, "was awesome!" Tears tickled Lucy's sinuses. "Yes, it was." "Does that work with singing, too? Could I join choir next year? Is there room for me?" Laughter poured out of Lucy's mouth, but it originated in her heart. "Four brilliant measures and you're ready to tackle singing, too?" As quickly as the laughter erupted, it died. Her choir? Next year? "My doctor says he owes you." Ellie's flute lay in her lap, the thin fingers cradling it. She stifled most of a cough. "He says he never would have thought of music as cystic fibrosis therapy." I never thought my first chair flutist would muscle through CF to keep playing. "I'm glad it's helping." "GDBD," she said, running her fingers over the instrument. "Good days, bad days?" Ellie looked up. "Do you text ?" Incredulity. Lucy took no offense. Even at a few months shy of fifty-six, she must have seemed ancient to a thirteen-year-old. Despite her sassy haircut. And artsy earrings, thanks to Ania's jewelry-making skills. "Is today a good day, Ellie?" The girl lifted her flute then pointed to the line of notes on the page, as a pool player might point to the pocket where she intended the eight ball to land. "Mrs. Tuttle, any day I'm breathing is considered a good day." She inhaled without moving her shoulders and played the measures as if running a victory lap. Which she would likely never do. Run. Lucy was three hours away from another school board budget-cut meeting. Could she keep breathing? The discussion had crept too close to destroying scenes like this one with Ellie. Only Lucy's dogged sense of propriety had kept her from storming the school board's line of tables and chairs last time. If it crept much closer ... Lucy turned her attention back to her admiration for a thirteen-year-old