Humbled (14 page)

Joel was a gnat constantly biting at Abigail's heels. The pesky critter wasn't visible, but the subtle pricks were a reminder of its presence. Joel wouldn't go away. Pretending not to care about him didn't make her feel better, but it did help her survive the breakup. Actually,
breakup
wasn't the right word for it. In order to break up, they had to be in a relationship. According to Joel, that wasn't the label he'd put on their union. Abigail recalled the relationship differently. She fondly remembered the countless hours they'd worked together. For a year, they'd eaten most dinners in the office as they diligently built his career and the clientele at DMI. Joel sacrificed his personal life during those early days for the good of the company and for what he had deemed was the leading of God. She had never questioned his motivation and had given one hundred percent, working tirelessly by his side in the trenches to fulfill his goals and Dave's vision for the company.

At Joel's request, she had even managed the construction of his new house, the one she thought he was building for them to share. Every inch of every room had been approved by her. She smirked again and snatched her pen off the desk to doodle on the pad of paper lying before her. She'd put her best effort into completing that project on time, under budget, and with as much dedication and love as her heart could muster. The thanks she got was a news flash one night on the local TV network, which showed Joel and his bride arriving from India after their secret wedding. She was devastated and was in denial for months. She set the pen down and stopped doodling. The shroud of pining over a man who didn't reciprocate her affection had lifted once she acknowledged that Joel, her perceived soul mate, was too self-absorbed to care about anyone other than himself.

In their recent past, reflecting on the old days might have caused her to shed a tear. But now she simply smirked, having grown in wisdom. She wanted to weep only for the naive young woman who stood passionately by her man with unwavering faith. She had refused to accept the shortcomings of the relationship, despite seeing the obvious, hearing the rumors, and being told the truth directly.

Her reminiscing was cut short when Don knocked on the door. “Can I come in?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, ripping the doodled sheet of paper from the pad, balling it up, and tossing it in the trash can underneath her desk. “Come right on in and have a seat, Mr. Mitchell.”

“Mister, huh? Why so formal, Ms. Gerard?”

She giggled. “Ah, just messing with you.”

Don took the seat she offered. “What has you acting silly?”

Suddenly the past disappeared in her rearview mirror, at least for today. “You don't want to know,” she said, glancing away from Don.

“Uh-huh. I know what that look means.” She was certain he did, and they didn't have to go any further with the conversation. Squandering ten minutes a day on Joel was her limit. She'd already exceeded it, and her soul was keeping a tight grip on the rest of the day.

“Anyway, what's going on with you today?” she asked.

“Funny you should ask. I've come to pick your brain about my plans.”

“Oh, boy, are you getting engaged to Naledi?” she asked delicately, not wanting to appear jealous.

“Nothing like that . . . not yet, anyway.”

Abigail squirmed in her seat, but it wasn't noticeable. Joel had maliciously broken her heart, but she'd crushed Don's. However, she hadn't assumed total responsibility. She and Don had been close friends for five years, working hand in hand under Dave's leadership. She was young and didn't recognize the signs of a man's interest. How was she supposed to know Don was in love with her if he never said anything? She didn't find out until Don quit DMI and asked her to come with him. Afterward, he was angry at her for staying at DMI to assist Joel. Don interpreted her action as a betrayal of her friendship and loyalty.

He fled Detroit, and the rest was history. Their friendship was strained for most of the two years he'd lived abroad. It wasn't until she'd suffered heartache in her relationship with Joel that Abigail began examining her feelings for Don. By the time she acknowledged him as the right Mitchell man for her, it was seemingly too late. He'd gone to South Africa, fallen in love with Naledi, and disposed of his attachment to Abigail. Admittedly, his rejection hurt, but what could she do except move on? Joel had, Don had, and she had to do the same.

“So, if you're not here to talk about Naledi, what's on your mind?”

“Well, I'm thinking about taking a break.”

“You're kidding!” she exclaimed. Don had worked his behind off, just as she and Madeline had, to get DMI back on track after the company found itself in dire financial straits under Joel's leadership. They were rolling again. The company's reputation was on an upswing. “DMI needs you now more than ever.”

“Nah, we're doing all right,” he responded.

“I know, but it's because of you,” she said emphatically.

“I think this is an ideal opportunity for me to step down. My family is finally showing signs of reconciliation.”

“Really, you think so? Exactly who do you think has reconciled? Madeline and Joel don't get along. Tamara and Joel don't either. Sherry and Madeline will never be friends. So who exactly are you saying has reconciled?”

“Good point, but we're at least in the same city. There's hope yet for my crazy family, but I'm not going to sit around and wait for perfection. I'm going to take where we are as a win and start the next chapter of my life.”

Abigail spun the pen on her desk and stared at it. “You're referring to building a life with Ms. Naledi, I guess, the woman who shoved me out of your heart.”

“You don't want to go there,” he said in a lighthearted tone. “She wasn't in the picture until you dumped me for my little brother.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chimed, shaking her finger at him. “We've been down this road too. I didn't dump you. I simply didn't know you had feelings for me when I chose to stay at DMI with Joel. Technically, this is your fault, not mine.”

Don tapped his fingertips together, his elbows resting on the arms of his seat. “Touché. So here we sit, still civil, I hope.”

“Definitely,” she said, suppressing her disappointment about them not being able to start over. Yet she understood how they'd gotten to this place, and had to accept the outcome. She resumed twiddling the pen. “We can't change the past. So I guess we weren't meant to be.”

“Guess not,” he agreed.

There was a lull in the conversation, until Don jump-started it. “Let's talk about DMI, which was my primary purpose for popping into your office. I'd like you to reconsider your resignation.”

Staying wasn't up for debate. In order to breathe fresh air, escape the Mitchell drama, she had to go. That was final. “We've had this talk several times, and I keep giving you the same answer.”

“Can't blame me for trying to keep my valued employee. We need you here.
I
need you,” Don said pressing his thumbs backward against his chest.

“What? So you can leave the country and go court Naledi? You must be delusional, asking me to reconsider my plans.”

“I see it as an honor. I need a leader who can be trusted and who's capable of running DMI in my absence.”

“What about Joel and Tamara?”

Don shook his head. “They both have too many issues for me to even remotely consider letting either of my siblings run this place.”

“What about Madeline?”

“My mother is ready to retire. She has zero interest in running DMI. Look, I've given this a lot of thought, and you win the candidate race, hands down.”

“I should be flattered, and maybe I am, but the answer is no.” She had her reasons, but she wasn't sharing them with Don. There wasn't any joy in hurting him. She had no desire to continue to pour her time and dedication into DMI while being unappreciated. The bunch of them wanted her to give all the time she could to the company, while they continued their perpetual squabble. She was tired of their dysfunction. Better possibilities awaited her on the open market. The Mitchell family had taken advantage of her for the last time.

“Is there anything I can say or do to change your mind?”

“No. I'm committed to starting a consulting firm. I have to step out.” They stared at one another, and then she broke the silence that had come between them. “Unless you're making me CEO?”

He hesitated, which was the answer she had anticipated.

“That's what I thought,” she said.

“Until I can get my mother to season her dream with a giant dose of reality, Tamara is on the short list of candidates.”

“And Joel would be the next contender, as a Mitchell,” she mused. She wasn't surprised at Don's answer, which was why he shouldn't be shocked about hers. Abigail couldn't wait to get out of there and let the Mitchells self-destruct without being around to help clean up the carnage.

“I can't give you the top spot, but you can have the next highest-ranking position as president. Since I'm going to be in South Africa, running LTI, you will have total control. It would be just like you were in the CEO position.” Don leaned close to the desk. “Come on now. I've seen your corporate drive and how much you love the challenge associated with working here.”

“You're right, and that's what I'm counting on with my new firm.” She leaned in close. “Thank you, but no thanks. I'm heading out on my own, and I wish you and DMI's team the very best.”

She exhaled, feeling finally in control of her destiny without the DMI noose tightening around her neck. Tamara, Joel, Madeline, Sherry, and Don could fight until the earth exploded, and she wouldn't care. Freedom was satisfying and, she hoped, long lasting. She'd soon see.

Something nagged at Don with each step he took away from Abigail's office, which was troubling. He'd come to learn that when God was in the midst of a situation, there was only peace. None of this anguish, confusion, and fighting. Three years of strife had ensued after his father appointed Joel CEO of DMI and nudged the family toward an all-out war. Don longed for some rest, the kind he'd found in Cape Town, South Africa. He kept walking toward his office, but much more slowly now. He was smart enough to know it hadn't solely been his physical location in South Africa that had led to him finding peace. Although, hearing the story about Nelson Mandela's unbelievable ability to forgive those who had wrongfully imprisoned him for twenty-seven years had inspired Don to release the anger he held against his father and brother. But even the gravity of Mandela's testimony wasn't what made the difference. He knew in the core of his being that the Lord had orchestrated the solitude he found outside of Detroit, away from DMI and beyond the Mitchells' reach.

God had restored him and drawn him home to get the family reconciled. It wasn't an easy job, not with the people he was working with. They were incorrigible, insensitive, pigheaded, but, most importantly, they were family. When Don reached the doorway to his office, he stopped and pressed his hand against the frame. His family was a pack of wild animals, inciting fear in those they encountered.
Yet they weren't hopeless,
he thought. Don pressed both hands into the door frame and let his mind settle.

Calm ushered in wisdom. Then it hit him. He'd been going about this the wrong way. He was naively acting as if the feud in the family was completely over. The Mitchell fight had ended no more than a month ago. Maybe the word
ended
was too optimistic. The cease-fire was more a result of everyone laying down their weapons of corporate destruction and retreating to their corners. He had no idea how long the cease-fire would last between his mother and his sister, between Joel and his mother, and between Joel and Abigail. There was no telling with this bunch.

“Is everything okay?” his assistant inquired.

Don had lost track of who was nearby. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he said, taking both hands off the door frame and turning to face his assistant. “Yes, everything is fine. I just have a few things on my mind. Nothing new,” he added, chuckling, with the intent of convincing her to move on and let him reflect openly without being questioned. His tactic must have worked, since she returned to her work and didn't ask any other questions. Don stepped into his office.

He said a quick prayer for guidance. He refused to believe that God would have him return to DMI, restore the company to financial solvency, rescue Tamara from an abusive boyfriend in Europe, and soften his heart toward Sherry, with the objective of letting the family resume their bickering and fall apart again. He knew God had better plans in store for the Mitchell family, but Don questioned his role in the journey they had to take if reconciliation was truly going to come. He milled around his office. What was God saying? He'd prayed, but the answer wasn't falling upon him. A wise man didn't get into a pit of snakes unless he had the proper protection, especially with the group Don was dealing with. His family seemed to thrive on chaos and contention. He'd have to wait until there was a clear direction.

He meditated a little while longer. Then he darted out the door and down the hallway to Abigail. She was still in her office. He burst in.

“What are you doing Sunday?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Why?”

“Because I want you to come to church with me, like we used to do. I need to clear my head and get a spiritual tune-up so I can hear God clearly. I have to go to church on Sunday.”

“All right. I'll go with you. Where?”

“Where else? Greater Faith Chapel. I hope Mother Walker is there, because she knows how to fire you up. She's no joke when it comes to the Lord and understanding purpose.”

“I agree. She'll have you running from the church, begging God to use you for some grand calling. On second thought, maybe I don't want to go,” Abigail said.

“I don't have a choice, and as my dear friend, you don't, either.” He cackled. “I'll pick you up on Sunday.” As he turned to leave, he added, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For always being there for me. No matter what has or hasn't happened between us, our relationship is very special to me.” Abigail wasn't the wife for him, but he hoped there would be some way to maintain their friendship long after they were both married and raising families. Perhaps his dream was unrealistic, but Abigail meant that much. Letting her go completely was unimaginable, and he'd continue working on a way to keep her close.