When the Love is Gone (Music from the Soul)

By Melissa N. Burnett

“When the Love is Gone”, there’s nothing left but pain and regret...

Have you ever wondered why your parents chose each other as mates when they were never a good match in the first place? Ever wondered what your life would be like if you didn’t have your mother’s aggressive temperament or your father’s gullible ways?

Angela “Angie” Phelps-Frank has grown up in a dysfunctional home, where her only means of coping is through music and her father’s love. Their bond stirs bitterness and jealousy in her mother, which creates a life-long wedge between them. When her father is murdered, Angie is bereft. She becomes angry, afraid, and aggressive, confrontational, and always ready for a good fight. She’s also always ready for a good man.

“When the Love is Gone” is the first of four installments from the “Music from the Soul” series. This is a great story on life, love, pain, drama, and the importance of forgiveness, self-reflection and positive transformation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa N. Burnett
• Release date: May 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781938135415

Melissa N. Burnett

Melissa N. Burnett enjoys a 20 year career in the field of sales where she works as a Regional Manager for a legal corporation. She earned a Bachelor’s degree in Business Administration with a Management specialization from Chancellor University, and later earned a Masters degree in Psychology from Capella University. As a child, Melissa wrote stories for her own personal reading and enjoyment. By the time she entered high school she shelved her stories to focus on other interests like singing, modeling and liturgical dancing. In 2001, after losing her beloved aunt to cancer she found herself writing again as a way of healing. At that same time she pursued a degree in psychology with hopes of becoming a psychologist and helping others overcome their personal issues. A year later she completed a novel on her late aunt’s life and found the writing process enjoyable. During her studies she realized there were a lot of emotionally damaged women still struggling with their childhood issues. This prompted her to write a series of four novels about four adult women falling in love while learning to heal from past traumatic situations. Melissa is optimistic that her stories will touch someone’s life and inspire them to choose a positive path to healing. Melissa is a native of Cleveland, Ohio where she resides with her family. She loves high-heel shoes, giving hugs, playing “Just Dance” on Wii, going to music concerts, theatre and theme parks. She enjoys traveling, reading, writing, listening and dancing to music, watching movies and spending time with family and close friends.

Book preview

Acknowledgements

To my hubby, throughout the last 19 years of my life you’ve been by my side through thick and thin, I love you always and forever. Thank you for always believing in me.

To my children, I would not be who I am today if I did not have the both of you in my life. All that I do is for the both of you; always remember how much mommy loves you.

To my two sissies, thanks for always staying positive and encouraging me when I felt like giving up.

Mom, you are my best friend and my biggest fan, I love you!

Em, thank you for always being there and for all the heart to heart talks. You are my sister. I love you.

Lakesha, you never stopped inquiring about the progress of my book and you always make me laugh every time you ask, Girl, when are you going to put this book out so I can read it? All along I know that was your way of encouraging me. I can never thank you enough.

Keesher, even though we are thousands of miles away from one another you have always been there for me with the patience to listen, with love to offer constructive advice, and with the kindest heart and understanding to make me laugh when you knew all I wanted to do was cry. Thanks for being my true childhood best friend for 27 years! I love you!

A special thank you to Winslow Eliot for doing an excellent job editing my first novel! I appreciate your patience, hard work and kind words of motivation.

A big hug and kiss to Robert B. Johnson for taking my photo and for helping me come up with the design concept for my cover art. Steve and Johnny, thank you both for bringing my vision for my cover art to fruition.

Dedication

Dedicated in loving memory of Ellen Priscilla (Berry) Boyd

1943-2001

Losing my auntie has been so very hard to accept but her strength and laughter has always been within me. It is because of her that I have found my passion to write and the determination to self-publish my first novel. Auntie, I love you dearly and I miss you every day.

"You made my day

You came my way

You heard me every time I prayed

You gave me peace

You gave me grace

You put a smile upon my face

You brought the sunshine in my life"

"You Brought The Sunshine"

The Clark Sisters

"When the love is gone there’s nothing left but pain and regret …"

Melissa Burnett

When The Love Is Gone

Angie’s Story

"Conflict is inevitable, but combat is optional."

Max Lucade

PROLOGUE

Present day …

So what’s your story? Dr. Monroe said.

I stared at the floor.

Ms. Frank, this is your third session and you still haven’t said a word to me.

What do you care? You’re still getting paid whether I talk or not.

It’s your money to waste, I get that. But when you came to me, you made it clear you needed my help. You said you had a lot on your heart. Now three weeks later we’ve done nothing but sit here in complete silence. I love money just as much as the next psychologist, but I’m not into wasting my time.

When I just shook my head, she went on:

I have a whole lot of other patients with serious problems. So far it looks like they need me more than you do. Today’s session is over. She closed the manila folder in her hand and tucked it under her arm.

Why are you rushing me, Dr. Monroe? It’s not easy evoking all my painful childhood memories.

Then how do you expect to ever get over them? Ms. Frank, I specialize in results and I’m not getting anything done sitting here staring at you. I’m no longer taking your money for nothing. If this is all you want to do then find yourself another psychologist.

I’ll talk to you but I’ll do it in my own time.

Then make an appointment when that time comes. She stood up.

Okay, wait! I sighed and rubbed the sides of my head. A headache was brewing.

Dr. Monroe’s beady eyes frowned at me.

Dr. Ernestine P. Monroe wasn’t your typical psychologist; that much was apparent the day I asked for her help. She had a reputation of being a hard-ass. She was blunt, she told you the truth, and if you couldn’t handle it then you shouldn’t bother coming to her office for help.

An acquaintance of mine referred her to me, so I had a heads-up on her style of practice. I made an appointment with her anyway.

She was an older woman; her jaw line and laugh lines gave her sixty plus years away. I could tell by the way her eyes bored into me that she was serious about cutting my session short. She obviously didn’t have time for the bullshit and frankly, I didn’t either. So, who was I kidding? I came to Dr. Monroe because it was time to make a change and turn my life around.

Again I looked up at Dr. Monroe, who towered over me, still waiting for me to leave. She glared at me so hard she looked crossed-eyed.

I fiddled with the hem of my blouse. Okay, Dr. Monroe, I’ll talk. Where should I start?

Slowly, Dr. Monroe took her seat across from me.

You can start off by telling me why you feel you should be here.

I looked across the room and noticed a gray reclining chair positioned near the doctor’s desk. It reminded me of my father’s old chair.

I blinked my eyes hard to hold back the tears.

Dr. Monroe looked down and immediately started to write something in her file. I wondered what it was.

Go on, she said.

Can you pinpoint the defining moment in your childhood, good or bad, in which your life and your future ultimately took shape? She looked at me over the top of her rimmed glasses.

As humans, we all have those moments, whether we consciously recognize that they have shaped our lives or not.

Can you pinpoint your defining childhood moment?

Yes, but we’re here to talk about you.

I swallowed back the tears again, and tried a different way.

Can I tell you a story?

Will it give me an inkling as to why you’re here?

Yes, I believe it will.

I suppose so, then. What’s the story about?

It’s about an angry, destructive, and volatile person.

She wrote again and I paused.

Go on, she prompted.

No. It’s actually about a young girl with a broken heart …

"After The Love Has Gone"

Earth, Wind & Fire

Chapter 1

"No, no! Angie! Slow down. Slow down!"

I slammed on the brakes hard. Papa’s whole body was strained forward; then slammed back into the passenger seat.

Sorry, I said contritely. Maybe we should wait until I’m at least fifteen before you teach me how to drive. More carefully, I pulled the car over to the side of the road.

You’re going to be an excellent driver someday. It just takes practice to be a pro.

I need to concentrate more, right?

Right, concentrate and relax. You’ll be driving in no time. I have confidence in you, Angie. He smiled encouragingly as he looked down at me.

When I think back on it, I can’t believe he had so much confidence in me that he allowed me to sit behind the wheel of his precious Cadillac to practice my driving. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; my father trusted everybody he knew. Most people thought he was naïve. I thought he was a caring and kind-hearted man.

And handsome! As I smiled back, I couldn’t help but admire him. His skin was fair, with tiny freckles sprinkled across his nose and high cheekbones. His jaw line was strong, his teeth white and neat. Dark irises behind his hooded eyelids twinkled at me no matter how hard things were. His nose was small and elegant above his thin mustache and full lips. He resembled an older version of the actor Terrence Howard.

Papa was a hardworking Line Assembly Supervisor for a chemical solutions factory in Solon. He was sociable and had several good friends and associates. Everyone admired him; he was so cool to be around, oftentimes I forgot he was the parent.

Ready? he said.

Nodding, I shifted the gear to drive and pulled away from the curb. I was smiling as we drove down Lomond Boulevard. I pulled the car into the driveway, switched the gear to park, and shut off the engine. Papa nodded approvingly.

Good job, Angie. He patted my shoulder before getting out, then stood in front of the garage, surveying the front lawn.

I meant to water the lawn earlier. I’d better get my butt in gear and do it now.

Do you want some help?

No, you go on inside. It won’t take long.

Okay. I skipped inside the house, hoping my mom wouldn’t know I’d come home yet so I could listen to Guy’s album before going to bed.

In my bedroom, I pulled out my Walkman, which already contained Guy’s cassette tape. I pressed the play button and turned the volume way up. Aaron Hall’s soulful voice began to serenade me.

As I listened, I doodled Aaron’s name on the cover of my journal. I was in heaven for about five minutes, and then my bedroom door swung open. In walked my eleven-year-old sister, Tanya. I yanked the headphones from my ears and dropped them to my neck.

Tanya, get out of my room!

I have to tell you something!

I don’t care! You can’t just walk into my room without knocking first!

I knocked three times. You didn’t hear me because you had your headphones on, stupid.

I settled back and heard Aaron crooning, telling me I can have a piece of his love.

Whatever. What do you want, butt-wipe?

Tanya, who was used to my disgusting pet name for her, stepped inside of my bedroom and pulled the door closed. Tanya was a miniature version of Mom: she was short and stocky and had Mom’s big, widely-spaced brown eyes. The only resemblance she had to Papa was his small nose, lightly dusted with freckles.

Uncle Stan’s here. He’s outside with Papa.

My heart sank. Immediately, I turned off my Walkman and ran quietly down the stairs. Tanya trailed behind me, and I knew she was upset.

I wish he would just go away, Tanya whispered.

So did I. No, I wished that he would fall off the face of the earth, get amnesia, and forget we even existed.

I cracked the front door. My father and his brother stood talking in the walkway of our front yard. Uncle Stan was doing his usual begging routine, while Papa stood with his arms folded defensively.

Turning to Tanya, I asked, Where’s Mom?

In her bedroom, watching TV.

Make sure she stays there.

Tanya turned to run back up the stairs.

I took a deep breath. The evening air had cooled, so I grabbed Papa’s favorite brown sweater from the back of his old reading chair and draped it around my shoulders before heading outside to join them.

I could smell his favorite cologne; it was Lagerfeld. The fragrance comforted me, as it always did, because it meant my father was near.

I pulled the door back and pushed the screen door open. It made a creaking sound, which made Papa and Uncle Stan look in my direction.

I walked toward them.

Hey there, lil’ Angie, Uncle Stan said with a huge grin that showed off his stained teeth.

Hi, Uncle Stan. My tone was chilly. What brings you out tonight?

Oh, nothing, lil’ Angie. Just thought I’d come out here and rub elbows … He walked up to Papa and me and rubbed his crusty elbows against ours. "Rub elbows with a couple of