The taxi pulled up on a pleasant suburban street with manicured lawns and white picket fences in front of the modestly sized houses. It was bitterly cold, ominous looking grey clouds loomed overhead and the cold hit Nick Jordan instantly as he stepped out of the cab. He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them and wrapped his burgundy scarf around his neck, before reaching into the pocket of his trousers to retrieve his wallet. Pulling out a couple of notes, he handed the taxi driver his fare as well as a generous tip, through the ever so slightly opened window. The driver, a jovial man in his fifties was clearly delighted and thanked Nick. "Have a nice day, sir" he wished Nick as he drove away.
Nick sighed. He just hoped he could make it through the day without wanting to shut himself in a room and sob. The strength of the emotions he was feeling, the pain, he had never felt anything like it before. The past fortnight had been the darkest days of his life and he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. "Just take it one day at a time" Charlie had advised him. He tried, he went through each day on auto-pilot but everything reminded him of her, of his loss. He needed to keep himself busy. Perhaps it would get easier once he started work, once he had something to focus on.
A gust of chilly wind blew towards Nick, making him snap out of his thoughts. He turned his eyes skyward, it was darkening by the minute and a large drop of rain landed on his forehead, closely followed by several more. The little gate creaking as he opened it, he hurried towards the house and rang the doorbell, before putting his cold hands in his coat pockets as he waited for the door to be opened.
He didn't have long to wait as the door was opened almost immediately by a woman in her mid to late sixties, her silver hair in a bun and a blue chequed apron over her floral dress. "Nick, lovely to see you again! Come on in." He was greeted warmly by a smile and a handshake, she took his scarf and coat and Nick thanked her for kindly inviting him over for lunch.
"Mr Jordan." A familiar voice greeted Nick and he extended his hand to the gentleman. "Good afternoon, Mr Meyer" he said. "Long time, no see." His former boss led him into the living room, he wore a dark suit and apart from the grey hair, didn't look like he had aged much at all since the last time Nick had seen him.
Nick had imagined Mr Meyer's place of residence to be larger, palatial even. However it was in fact quite cosy, homely and the delicious aroma of roast chicken permeated the house. He sat on a large chocolate brown leather sofa, Anton seated himself on an armchair close to the fire, whilst Mrs Meyer busied herself preparing the food, the clanking of pans and clattering of plates in the kitchen audible throughout the house. Nick surveyed his surroundings, his eyes were immediately drawn to the large bookcase that seemed to dominate the room. It reached almost to the ceiling and was filled with books of various sizes and thickness, there were short books as well as hefty tomes, old leather bound volumes and newer paperbacks.
An awkward silence seemed to hang between them. It had been over a decade since they had last seen each other, thirteen years to be precise, when Nick had departed Holby City Hospital under a cloud. They had however stayed in touch, corresponding now again by email and occasionally by letter, which nowadays some might consider to be an archaic method of communication. Despite the fact that Nick had changed specialties, moving from cardio-thoracic surgery to emergency medicine over four years ago, he had retained a keen interest in CT and Meyer regularly sent him articles from various medical journals and information about the latest research, enabling him to stay up to date with medical advances.
Despite the years that had passed since they last worked together and how high up the career ladder Nick had climbed - he had become a Consultant in three different specialties - CT, general surgery and emergency medicine, and had run one of the best emergency departments in the UK - he found that he was again feeling like he was Meyer's mentee.
It was his former mentor who finally broke the silence. "What brings you to Michigan, Mr Jordan?" he inquired. "The last I heard you were running Holby City's Emergency Department."
Nick had hoped he wouldn't have to answer that question, at least not yet. "I felt it was time to move on" he replied simply after a moment's hesitation. Meyer raised an eyebrow quizzically, waiting for Nick to elaborate further, however Mrs Meyer - Nick didn't actually know her first name, he had only met her once before when she had accompanied her husband to a fundraising dinner they had attended - walked in, informing them that the meal was ready. She led Nick to the dining room whilst Anton entered the adjoining kitchen and emerged a couple of minutes later with the roast chicken and potatoes, fresh from the oven.
The dining room was light and airy, with beige walls, wooden flooring and a large oak dining table with six chairs. There were patio doors which led out onto the vast, well-kept garden, and Nick stood by them, gazing at the trees being buffeted by the wind, which had picked up considerably in the last ten minutes or so. Their bare branches swayed wildly in the gusts, looking as though they may break at any moment. He watched the driving rain beat against the glass of the patio doors and the dark clouds that hung low on the horizon promised yet more. Nick sighed, it was a bleak scene.
"Nick."
Nick started at the sound of his name being called and turned around to find the Meyers standing around the table, their eyes fixed on him. They glanced fleetingly at each other before Mrs Meyer remarked in jest that he looked "a bit lost."
Lost. That was exactly how he felt, he was lost without Yvonne. He knew there were different stages of grief and that time was a healer, however knowing that did not lessen the pain an iota. He was a heart surgeon, he had fixed many hearts over the years but he now knew what it felt like to have a broken heart - one that could not be fixed.
"Is everything alright, Mr Jordan?" questioned Mr Meyer. Nick forced himself to smile and assured his hosts that he was fine, though still a little jet-lagged. He was ushered to his seat at the table which was laden with an array of dishes that looked and smelled very appetising and Nick realised he was rather hungry, he hadn't eaten anything all day apart from half a bagel with his coffee early in the morning. There was a roast chicken on a platter surrounded by potatoes, various other roasted and steamed vegetables, Yorkshire puddings, gravy and a bottle of red wine. In the middle of the table sat a tall glass vase containing red and pale pink roses.
Sunshine streamed into the kitchen and a soft, cool summer breeze blew in from the open window and the back door which was slightly ajar. "Morning" said Nick as he entered the room with a smile on his face, only to find Yvonne wasn't actually there. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room and two mugs sat on the black granite worktop beside the coffee maker, as well as a plate of croissants. Upon glancing out of the window Nick saw his partner was outside, watering the plants. She was dressed casually in a white t-shirt and jeans and her dark curly hair was tied back loosely in a ponytail.
Nick stepped outside and Yvonne's face lit up with a smile as she saw him approaching. "Morning, Mr Jordan."
"Morning, Superintendent" They shared a kiss and stood silently for a moment, their arms wrapped around each other, content in each other's company. The sky was azure, birds chirped merrily in the trees and the garden was a riot of colour with the bright orange marigolds and geraniums of various colours blooming in the flowerbeds and the fragrant deep red roses at the end of the garden. A white butterfly fluttered past, alighting on a flower just feet away from where they stood. Yvonne picked up the large green watering can at her feet and proceeded to water the rose bushes. Roses were her favourite flower, she said, lightly touching a soft crimson petal.
"I didn't know you have green fingers" Nick remarked with a smile as he gazed around the garden.
"I don't" laughed Yvonne. "A gardener comes once a week."
"Nick?"
"Hmm?" He noticed two pairs of eyes on him again, his former boss looked thoughtful but remained silent, whilst his wife offered him some more gravy. "Thank you" Nick accepted, mostly out of politeness. He didn't much feel like eating, nor did he feel like talking but of course he had to make an effort, so he complimented the hostess on her cooking and made small talk.
Conversation at the dinner table soon moved towards work and Nick listened intently when Anton revealed there would soon be a vacancy in the surgical department at the hospital in Detroit he worked at - one of the senior surgeons was to retire in a few weeks. Nick wanted to start work as soon as possible, he had to keep himself busy, he wasn't sure how he'd get through each day otherwise.
Though Anton had always seemed cold and aloof to Nick when they had worked together, he now seemed less reserved and quite relaxed. Whether it was because he was at home or because he had mellowed in recent years, Nick didn't know. He even insisted on helping his wife, who Nick learnt was called Ann and used to be a nurse, with the dishes once they had finished their meal.
After the repast Nick and Anton were seated in the living room when Ann brought in cups of coffee and pastries. Setting the tray down on the wooden coffee table, she told Nick to help himself, and he did so, adding a drop of milk but no sugar to his cup.
"Mr Jordan." Nick was standing at the main reception desk writing up some notes and turned around to see the attractive, feisty DCI he'd met earlier striding towards him, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.
"DCI Rippon. How can I help you?"
She smiled, her grey eyes twinkling. "Where can I get a coffee?" she asked. "Preferably one that doesn't taste like dishwater."
Instead of pointing her towards the coffee machine as Nick would usually do when asked where someone could get a hot beverage, he offered to get her one and they walked to the staff room, where he poured her a strong black coffee, freshly brewed in the cafetiere.
"Sugar?" she asked, and Nick handed her one of the sugar sachets from the little bowl. Much to his astonishment she requested two more. Three sugars in a cup of coffee? How unhealthy, he thought. Either the DCI read his mind or his disapproval was evident on his face, for she told him as she emptied the sachets into her cup "don't go all doctory on me, it is brown sugar."
Nick gulped down the rest of the coffee in his cup, wincing as it was still hot, and placed it quickly back onto the tray on the table. His hosts, sitting beside each other on the leather sofa sipping their coffees, glanced at each other with a look of consternation as the cup clattered and Nick hurriedly got to his feet, mumbling something about having to leave. The aching in Nick's heart had increased and become a sharp pain in his chest and he felt as though he needed some fresh air - the room was stifling.
"Is everything alright, Nick?" asked Ann, her concern evident in her voice and in her eyes. Both she and her husband stood up, placing their cups down on the table in front of them.
"Everything's fine" he replied, attempting to smile and sound convincing. "Lunch was lovely, Mrs Meyer, thank you very much but I really must be going." He headed for the door, only to be stopped from leaving the room by Anton placing a hand on his arm.
"Mr Jordan" he said, his voice stern. Nick, his hand still grasping the door handle, didn't turn around but felt a steely glare fixed on him.
"I want to know what's going on" demanded Mr Meyer. "You've been distracted all afternoon, you clearly have something on your mind. I'm aware you intend on applying for the surgical job at my hospital but if I am to consider you for the role I need to know what's troubling you. As you know, I expect my staff to be one hundred percent focused."
Nick felt as though he'd gone back in time and was once again a registrar on Meyer's firm, being lectured about the importance of being completely focused on the job. He was right of course, Nick expected the same from his staff too, they couldn't afford to make mistakes.
Was he really ready to return to work? His colleagues had thought otherwise when he'd turned up at the hospital to work a shift just after Yvonne had been laid to rest. He had wanted to keep himself busy, thinking that it would help him cope with his loss, that if he kept himself occupied perhaps he wouldn't feel so much pain. He had realised by the end of the day that his colleagues had been right, it was too soon to return to work. He had also decided he couldn't stay in Holby, there were too many memories. He had come face to face with the man responsible for Yvonne's death, heard him confess to attacking her on that fateful summer night six months ago, and later had to perform life-saving surgery on him. He had got justice for Yvonne, but it wouldn't bring her back. Every time he'd walked through the reception area that eventful and sorrow-filled day, he had seen Yvonne's smiling face on the front of newspapers being perused by people in the waiting area, under the headline: FUNERAL FOR HOLBY RIOT COP.
How he missed her smile. He'd met Yvonne in that hospital but it was also where he had lost her - there were too many painful memories, he could not continue working there. What he would do, where he would go, he didn't know yet. He had later set sight on a photo frame behind his desk, it was of himself in his days as a cardio-thoracic registrar and his mentor - the man who had taught him so much and made him the brilliant doctor he was today. They had only worked together for a few years but Mr Meyer had made an impression on him. He had moved to Michigan and was currently working on developing an artificial heart, Nick too had worked on the same with Lord Byrne before moving to emergency medicine so had knowledge on the subject.
So here he was, in Michigan, hoping to find a purpose, some direction, in his life. Work was all he had left now. For so long it had been the most important thing in his life - until he met Yvonne. She had walked into his life, captured his heart and become his everything. Now she was gone.
Nick loosened his grip on the door handle and slowly turned around, Anton was taken aback at seeing the anguish in his eyes. He walked towards the window and gazed out, the room silent apart from the sound of the torrent outside which showed no sign of letting up. It was a couple of minutes before he spoke, his voice quiet but steady and betraying not a hint of his inner turmoil.
"My partner Yvonne died two weeks ago...I miss her."
When Nick later bade his hosts goodbye, stepped outside and walked down the path he was surprised to see the rain had stopped and the sun had emerged from behind a cloud, its rays shining down and making the raindrops on the blades of grass glisten. He watched a solitary bird fly overhead, soaring high above the rooftops and out of sight. The taxi he had ordered was waiting in front of the house and Nick shut the gate behind him, opened the car door and got in. His heart had been broken and his world turned upside down, but as his mother said, la vita va avanti. Life goes on. He knew he had to learn to live again.