~ Clay

I should probably leave her alone, I think as I stand outside the door to Andrea’s bedroom with one fist raised, pausing in the act of knocking.

Maybe I went a little too far. I realize that now. But what can I do? I’m at the limits of my patience and I just want something to happen. Anything. I want her to know I’m serious and I want her to give me an equally serious answer, whatever that may be.

No. If I’m being serious, then I want Andrea to say “yes”.

And I know she wants to, as well. If only she can confront the past or overcome it, then she will see that she and I are meant to be together, that we belong together.

You belong with me, Andrea. Why can’t you see that? Why do you keep fighting it?

“Um, Mr. Maxwell?” Hariett calls my attention.

I turn my head. “Yes?”

“There is someone here to see you,” she informs. “A Dr. Edward Elliot.”

“A doctor?” My eyebrows furrow.

Rose’s doctor, maybe?

“He claims to be a friend of Mr. Abbott’s,” Hariett adds.

“I see.”

I try to remember a Dr. Elliott from John’s funeral service but fail. I didn’t exactly ask the name of everyone who attended that service.

“I’ll see him downstairs then.”

I look at the door to Andrea’s bedroom, still shut just like her heart, and let out a deep breath before leaving it, walking down the hall and the stairs to where my guest is waiting.

Seated on the couch, Dr. Elliot looks like a man in his early forties, younger than what I expected. He doesn’t look like a doctor, either, his eyeglasses, gray sweater, blue scarf and dark jeans reminding me more of a college professor.

“Dr. Elliot?” I ask as I walk in.

He stands up and offers his hand. “Mr. Maxwell, I believe?”

“Yes.” I shake his hand. “I’m John’s friend. I was told you were, too?”

He nods as we sit down. “I’m more of his client but I’d like to believe we were friends. He was a good man.”

“That he was.” I place a hand on my knee. “You said client?”

“Yes. I asked Mr. Abbott to make a program for me. Well, actually, he came up with the idea and I liked it.”

“A program?” My eyebrows go up.

John was working on something?

“Yes. I own a small hospital in Flint, Michigan, you see,” he explains. “I inherited it from my father. It specializes in heart diseases, though I’m afraid it’s not doing so well. When I told Mr. Abbott about it, he suggested this program that would make it easier to monitor the heart condition of each patient based on their data, even predicting risks of certain diseases and the success of certain procedures.”

I nod, visualizing the program in my head. Complicated but doable, especially by someone as skilled as John. And definitely helpful.

“It was a brilliant idea so of course, I wanted him to make it,” Dr. Elliot goes on. “And Mr. Abbott said he would. The last time I spoke to him was two months ago and he said the program was almost finished. I came here last week, hoping to see the finished product only to find out that he had died. I was very sorry to hear it.”

“So, you know he is gone and yet you are here again?” I give him a puzzled look.

“I guess I’m hoping that he still managed to finish the program and that you might know where it is,” he says. “After all, I was told you were his closest friend and that he left you everything.”

“He left me a lot of things,” I tell the doctor. “But I’m afraid your program wasn’t one of them, or any program for that matter.”

“But it must be on one of his computers.”

I try to remember what I saw on his computer drives while I was looking for information on Rose’s mother. Was there a program he was working on? All I can remember are the movies, the pictures, a few documents. There wasn’t any program there.

“I’m sorry but I really didn’t see it,” I say.

Dr. Elliot sighs, pushing up the bridge of his glasses. “There’s nothing I can do then. I just feel sad knowing that it could have saved many lives. Of course, it would have helped my hospital get back on its feet but I’m more concerned about how it could have helped patients, not just mine, but all those suffering from heart conditions.”

I tuck my hand under my chin. “I understand. And I agree that it is another tragedy that this program cannot be found. Did you pay John for it?”

Dr. Elliot shakes his head. “He didn’t want a single cent until it was finished and proven successful.”

I nod. That does sound like John. Generous to a fault up until the end.

“Do you want me to make one for you under the same conditions? I do have my own team of…”

“That’s fine, Mr. Maxwell. I appreciate your offer but I’m afraid I can’t afford to wait any longer.” Dr. Elliot stands up. “The hospital has a lot of needs and I can’t set them aside any longer or put my hopes on something that may never be successful. You understand?”

“Yes.” I get on my feet. “I, too, am a businessman, after all.”

Dr. Elliot gives a weak smile. “Then there is nothing more for us to discuss.” He offers his hand again. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Maxwell.”

I shake it. “I wish I could have been able to help you.”

He frowns. “Sadly, things don’t always work out the way we want them to and the things we’ve lost can never be brought back.” He gives a sigh. “I lost my wife, too, you know, four years ago. She had a stroke out of nowhere.”

That must be why the program is so important to him.

“I was hoping to find a new wife, especially as my kids are about to become a teenagers and need the watchful eye and the guiding hand of a mother, but with all this hospital business, I doubt I’ll be able to find one anytime soon.”

I frown. He does seem to be in a bad place right now. Poor man. I wish I could help him.

He picks up his bag. “Do you have a wife, Mr. Maxwell?”

“No,” I answer. “But I’m hoping to have one soon, as well.”

He grins. “Well, good luck to us both.”

I pat his shoulder. “I’m sure everything will work out.”

He nods but looks doubtful. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

After he’s left, I go check on John’s computers once more, hoping I might have missed Dr. Elliot’s program. I don’t see it, though, and I end up sitting on the edge of John’s old bed with my shoulders hunched as I look at his picture.

John, what did you do with that program? Did you finish it? Where did you save it?

I sigh. It seems there are more things I don’t know about John.

“Come on, man. What’s with the secrets?”

Of course, I don’t get any answer. I never will.

Standing up, I leave his room and as I pass by the door to Andrea’s bedroom again, I pause.

Is she alright?

This time, I knock. “Andrea?”

I expect to hear ‘Get lost’ or something along those lines but I hear nothing, no answer.

I knock again. “Andrea?”

Maybe she was exhausted from the ride this morning and fell asleep? Maybe she’s in the shower?

I don’t want to go in and risk seeing her in just her towel after what I put her through this morning so I back off.

“Looking for Miss Andrea?” Hariett asks as she emerges from Rose’s room with a pile of laundry.

I nod. “She must be sleeping.”

“No. I saw her leave hours ago.”

She left?

Quickly, I open the door to her bedroom and sure enough, I find it empty, her bed still made. The bathroom is empty as well.

Well, at least, her things are still here, which means she didn’t run away for good. But where has she gone? And why didn’t she tell me?

The folded piece of paper on the bedside table catches my eye and I pick it up.

Clay,

I went to Chicago for a break. I’ll be back soon.

I frown at the note. I’m the one who did this. I’m the one who sent her running to Chicago.

I sit on her bed. Well, if she says, she needs a break, I’ll give her one. God knows she deserves it. I’ll leave her alone and patiently wait for her to come back as she said she would.

At least, that’s what I think until I notice something on the note – traces of the one she wrote before.

The Langham Chicago. 7 PM.

My frown deepens.

Andrea’s meeting someone in Chicago? Who?