The Gift of Goodbye Read online

  Table of Contents

  THE GIFT OF GOODBYE

  Acknowledgements

  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

  THE GIFT OF GOODBYE

  M. KAY KLEVEN

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  THE GIFT OF GOODBYE

  Copyright©2017

  M. KAY KLEVEN

  Cover Design by Wren Taylor

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-483-0

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  To my son -

  Aaron Daniel Kleven

  What a glorious gift you have been.

  I love you!

  Acknowledgements

  THANK YOU:

  Debby Gilbert – my publisher and editor for offering me a contract and for all of the help you provided in getting my book to publication.

  Wren Taylor – my cover artist for the absolute perfect cover for my book.

  Cheryl Yeko – my cover art coordinator and for all of the other assistance you gave me.

  Char Chaffin – my Soul Mate Publishing profile guru.

  Carol Woien – my online friend and author for all of the help and encouragement you gave me along the way.

  Tyler Dailey – my grandson for just being you. I love you.

  Chapter 1

  Even as a little girl, I knew whenever my mother glared at me, with that awful look in her eyes, something bad was about to happen to me. What I didn’t know, as usual, was what I’d done wrong to cause her to always scold me, and not my siblings. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t please my angry, unhappy mother, Clara Armstrong.

  I’m Anna Louise Armstrong, and by the time I turned ten, my mother’s assaults had nearly become a daily ritual. But by then, I had also become an expert in how to escape her scathing insults and reprimands.

  If we happened to be in the same room, and I could get away, I’d race out the front door and down the street to my best friend Mara Holbrook’s house, knowing my mother would never want the neighbors to think poorly of her by shouting out the door.

  But on most days, just the harsh tone of her voice calling my name caused me to run up the stairs to my room, slam the door, and lock it, before she could catch up to me. She could’ve screamed and hollered as she followed me up the stairs, but I knew she wouldn’t because her darling, older daughter, Charlotte, with the long, blond hair and blue eyes, resided in the room right next to mine, and her adorable, precious son, Grant, with the outstanding athletic ability, occupied the room across the hall. I thanked God every day for the lock on my door, and on every door throughout our big, old house on Poppy Street.

  I never said a word. Fear kept me quiet. But, because my mother constantly resided on my radar, there were times when I would observe her taking a bottle of pills out of her purse and washing them down with whatever she had in that dark-crystal blue glass of hers that stood like a prized statue on the kitchen counter. One day, out of curiosity, I took a whiff and nearly toppled over. I sometimes wondered if my self-absorbed sister or nonchalant brother were aware of the secrets our mother continuously tried to hide, but knowing how they would respond, I kept my mouth shut.

  My family may have been in denial about my mother’s self-destructive habits, but I assure you, the rest of Wisteria, Kansas, was not.

  One day, as Mara and I entered the girl’s restroom, I overheard a couple of the biggest snobs in school talking about my mother and what a big drunk she was. It stunned me at first, but Mara put her arm around me and said in a hushed voice, “Let’s get out of here,” as she pulled me out of the restroom and down the hall toward our lockers. I stayed at Mara’s that night, and after I revealed to her what I knew about the pills and about the cobalt crystal glass that occupied center stage on our kitchen counter every day, we both knew what my mother had become and why her so-called friends whispered behind her back.

  Was my mother the reason I hardly ever saw my father, William Armstrong? Ever since I could remember, he’d worked day and night, as owner of Armstrong Computers, trying to keep Mom happy. But, it seemed no matter how much money he made, it was never enough for her. And whenever he did have a little free time, he either spent it arguing with her about money or watching my younger brother play whatever sport happened to be in season at our school. Somehow, even though his hands were tied, I knew deep down inside my father would always be there for me if I needed him.

  Then, for my sixteenth birthday, my best friend Mara invited me to go with her family to listen to her older brother perform with his college orchestra. From the moment he took his place at the piano and began to play, my sixteen-year-old sullenness evaporated and I immediately fell in love with both the light and dark sounds of the music as his hands flew over the keys. After that day, I could think of little else.

  Excited, but scared, I approached my mother the next morning to ask her about taking piano lessons. “Mom. Since hearing Mara’s brother play the piano and perform at his college, there is nothing more I’d like to do than learn how to play the piano like he does.”

  “No, Anna Louise. I’m sure it would just be another waste of money. You always come up with the most harebrained ideas. You probably have a crush on him. Forget it. Now, go out and pull the weeds in the flower garden before my friends arrive for our luncheon.”

  “No, Mother. Please. It’s the piano and music I love.”

  “I said no. Now go out and get busy in the garden.”

  ~ ~ ~

  For the next two years, I begged and pleaded for piano lessons, but never got them. Mom and I grew further and further apart. I stayed with Mara as often as I could. Sometimes she’d let me plunk away on Blake’s upright piano in the pa
rlor, clapping just to make me feel good. “Someday you’re going to be famous, my friend,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  As soon as I graduated from high school, I packed my bags, said my goodbyes, even to Mara, and boarded a bus that would take me from Wisteria, Kansas, to New York City. Once I’d found a place to live, I knew I’d have to find a job that would allow me to make enough money to one day take those piano lessons I’d dreamed about for so long. And then maybe, just maybe, if I worked hard enough, I’d be able to play and perform at one of the famed concert halls in New York. I certainly didn’t want to end up playing in one of those dark, drinking establishments I’d read about, whose signs flashed bright every night throughout the city.

  Finding a seat halfway back on the bus, I slipped my backpack off and set it on the seat beside me. Suddenly, the bus started to roll. I was on my way to New York. I sat back in my seat and tried to relax, but across the aisle a little girl started to cry when her mother grabbed her by the arm and started to belittle her because she wouldn’t sit still and behave like a proper young lady. She appeared to be all of six years old.

  Images of my mother flashed before my eyes, but I shook them off as I smiled over at the little girl and winked. I set my backpack on the floor so the seat next to me was empty. I made eye contact with the mother and asked if her daughter could sit with me and play games on my smartphone. She frowned at her daughter, but gave her permission. Savannah was her name. She gave me a million-dollar smile. I learned that Savannah and her mother were getting off at the same Manhattan stop I was, so as the days and buses changed, Savannah continued to sit with me as we played games on my phone together. And when we grew tired of the phone, we would play tic-tac-toe or hangman on notebook paper I had in my backpack, laughing at our funny drawings.

  As we stepped off the bus mid-afternoon, I hugged Savannah, then we retrieved our luggage and went our separate ways. But before I’d gone far, I heard screaming and turned to see Savannah’s mom grab her by the arm once again. My heart ached for Savannah as I rode along in a cab that took me to a street I had marked on the map. Getting out, I gazed up and down both sides of the street, knowing I would need to rent a cheap, furnished place until I could find a job and earn enough money to rent a one-bedroom apartment, as well as buy a few pieces of furniture and an old, used piano of some kind. An ancient-looking sign across the street flashed ‘Blue Sky Apartments.’ Spotting nothing else, I crossed the street, opened the faded blue door, then walked up to the run-down counter and signed a six-month lease, sight unseen. The lady who waited on me yelled for her son, which made me jump, to come watch the desk. I cringed when a sad, scared teenager came into the room, avoiding his mother at all costs. She took me up three flights of stairs to show me the apartment that was about to become my new home.

  I gasped as she opened the door. The place was trashed and smelled like smoke and booze. Even my sixteen-year-old brother couldn’t destroy his room like that.

  “Sorry, miss, but the couple who’d been living here must’ve left during the night, leaving the keys on the counter and the place in shambles, but it’s the only apartment I have available right now.”

  Cautiously setting my luggage down, I replied, “Just show me where the mop and vacuum cleaner are and I’ll clean it up myself.”

  “Could tell right away you were a good girl.” The lady ran her hand through her tangled, red and gray hair as I followed her across the hall where she opened the door to a room, almost as messy as my apartment, overflowing with cleaning tools and supplies. “Help yourself to whatever you need.”

  Before I could say another word, she disappeared back down the stairs to the lobby. I stood there for a few minutes staring into space, then grabbed a mop and pail, as well as a bunch of rags and a bottle of soap, thinking, what have I gotten myself into?

  “Can I help you?” a deep, masculine voice asked from behind me.

  I jumped and screamed, then spun around to see a young man, who appeared to be a few years older than me, standing there in a well-worn, white T-shirt, and gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, grinning from ear to ear. “No. That’s okay,” I mumbled, not being able to take my eyes off of him. “But I could’ve used those ten years you just scared off of me, though.”

  “You must be new to New York.” He laughed. “Here, let me take that mop and pail before you drop them on your toes.”

  “How did you know I was new?”

  “You wouldn’t be staying here if you were familiar with New York. I’m Chase Monroe and I’m your neighbor. I’ve been hanging out here for a month now.”

  “A month, huh? That must make you a native New Yorker by now. I’m Anna Louise Armstrong.” Giving him a slight smile, I carefully handed the mop and pail over to him.

  “I heard the party going on in your apartment last night and had a feeling they wouldn’t be here this morning since it was the last day of the month. A couple actually lived there, but from the noise that carried over to my apartment every night, I was beginning to think a whole gang of people lived there. Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I moved in here. Welcome to New York!”

  Chase followed me into the apartment, took a good look around, and then pushed up his sleeves. “I’ll give you a hand or it’ll be midnight before you get all of this trash cleaned up. I’ll grab the vacuum. Be right back.”

  He disappeared and returned with the vacuum and two bottles of water. “Thought we might need a little hydration as we make our way through this disaster.”

  “Thanks, Chase.” His friendliness drew me in. “Do you know where I can find some fresh linens for the bed until I’m able to purchase some of my own?”

  “Let me get them. They’re down on the next floor in the linen closet.”

  “I’ll go with you. I’ll need a few towels and wash cloths too.”

  “Follow me then, Miss Anna Louise.” As I walked behind him, I noticed he had a slight limp, but it didn’t seem to slow him down at all.

  After returning, we worked quietly for the next couple of hours, cleaning up one mess after another and throwing away everything that could possibly be discarded. Then, while Chase wiped down the kitchen and bathroom and mopped the floors, I vacuumed the worn-out carpet that covered the floors in the living room and bedroom and changed the linens on the bed.

  Stepping out of the kitchen, Chase handed me an open bottle of water, taking a deep swallow out of the other one. “Looks a hundred percent better than when we first walked in, don’t you think?”

  “It sure does,” I responded. “Since I’m new in town and we need to eat, I’d like to take you out to dinner for all of your help. That is if you’re not busy.”

  “Not busy. Give me a half-hour to clean up, and then I’ll be back to see if you’re ready to go. After we eat, I’ll show you a few spots in the neighborhood you might like to know about.”

  “Thanks. I have no idea where anything is right now,” I replied. “Oh, could you make that a long half-hour?”

  “Sure.” He smiled with a glint in his eyes as he pulled down his sleeves and strolled out the door.

  I quickly closed and locked the door behind him, then threw my suitcase onto the bed and pulled out clean clothes. Finding my soap and shampoo, I jumped into the shower and enjoyed the next few minutes as the warm water washed over me. My thoughts turned to Chase. He appeared to be a nice guy, but I needed to remember I was in New York now and not Kansas.

  Hearing a knock, I slowly opened the door. Chase stood there in faded blue jeans, a brighter white T-shirt with a logo, and a chestnut-colored leather jacket. And, even though he said he’d only lived here for a month, his almost-black hair looked like it’d been cut into one of New York’s latest styles. He sure cleaned up nice. Hope he didn’t notice the surprise on my face when I opened the door.

  “You look great, Anna
Louise. Your big brown eyes and long, dark hair sure stand out against that bright red, cable knit sweater you’re wearing.”

  “Thanks, “I replied. “Didn’t think guys noticed things like that.”

  “Well, I’m hoping to become a bona fide journalist soon. Guess that makes me a bit of a detail man.”

  “You’re looking rather handsome yourself,” I said, locking the door behind us. “Nice haircut.”

  “Totally New York. Made it one of my first stops.”

  As we entered the sidewalk, I got swept up in all of the pushing and shoving and started to panic when I thought I’d lost Chase.

  “Here, hang on to my hand until we get to the restaurant,” Chase called out. “It’s crazy out here on the streets, but you’ll get used to it.”

  He stopped in front of a pizzeria about three blocks from the apartment building. “Antonio’s makes the best pizza I’ve ever had, so hope you like pizza.”

  “Love it. Let’s go in.”

  We viewed the menu on the wall and decided on the hand-tossed crust with pepperonis, then Chase ordered and I paid for it at the checkout counter. The cashier handed Chase a plastic number and said they’d bring the pizza to our table as soon as it was ready. Chase filled two glasses with soda while I grabbed a couple of straws and pulled some napkins from the holder. Finding an empty table, we sat down to relax for a few minutes until the pizza arrived.

  “So what brings you to New York, Anna Louise? And on your own, too.”

  “Well, to make a long story short, I have this dream of playing the piano in one of the grand concert halls here in New York, but I’ve never had a lesson. I’ve written songs in my head for as long as I can remember, but never knew what to do with them until I heard my best friend’s brother play the piano in a concert at his college a couple of years ago.”