Humbled (23 page)

Don stopped at the cubicle of Abigail's assistant on the way to his office. “Is she in?” he asked, resting against the counter.

“Yes, she is.”

“No meeting?”

“Not until later this morning,” the assistant replied.

“Perfect,” he said and then waltzed into Abigail's office after knocking on the door. “Ms. Gerard, do you have a minute for an old friend?”

Abigail was about to make a call. “Sure. Come on in.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt,” he said, turning to walk out.

“You're fine. Come on in,” she said, returning the phone handset to its base. “I can make the call later. No problem.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she said, beckoning for him to take a seat. “What's going on?”

Don didn't know where to begin. Abigail was aware of Joel's marriage, but did she know about the pregnancy? Did she know about the tussle over the West Coast division? He didn't want to share information that wasn't his to reveal. On the other hand, Don wanted to chat with his friend and cherished colleague. He respected Abigail's professional aptitude and had relied on her on many occasions. He yearned to lean on her with his recent predicament and get her opinion. He was hoping she'd be objective.

“Did you know Joel and his wife were expecting a baby?”

“No, I didn't,” she said without looking away.

Don could have terminated the conversation, but she didn't appear to react adversely. Don was amazed and relieved. He continued, intending to get to his reason for popping into her office. “I'm telling you because Joel and Zarah are having difficulty with the pregnancy.”

Abigail cleared her throat and adjusted her position in the chair. “That's awful. I hope things work out for Joel.” She opened her laptop. “There's not much I can do except maybe say a prayer for the baby.”

“That's kind of you.”

“It's what any decent person would do.”

“But let's be honest, you're not just
any
person when it comes to Joel. You were in a relationship.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she stated with her index finger pointing at him. “According to your brother, we were never in a relationship. At best, we were friends and colleagues, according to him.”

“Whatever,” Don said in a slightly flippant tone, which surprised even him.

Maybe he'd grown tired of Joel and Abigail's weird relationship. Maybe he was irritated with Abigail's long-term denial. Maybe it was this, or maybe it was that. Bottom line, he wasn't there to define her relationship with Joel. He was in her office for the sole purpose of figuring out how to convince Abigail to stay on board. His reign was coming to an end. With Tamara outright refusing to assume the top spot, Don had to identify a qualified replacement if he wanted to step down. Abigail was the person most suited to run DMI in his absence. As long as she was in charge, he could vacate his CEO position for an extended leave and not feel pressured to return for at least six months.

“I'm over Joel. When he got married, we were done.” Don wasn't going to dissect her answer. What she said, he'd assent as her truth. She continued. “There's an entire world outside of DMI for me, one that doesn't require me to run into your little brother.” The tone in her voice lightened. “And I'm happy.” Don was glad to see her in a content state of mind. He'd been prepared for her reaction to the pregnancy to go in a different direction. Thank goodness it hadn't. “As a matter of fact, I'd like for you to reduce my remaining two-month-notice period to a few weeks.”

Don tensed. “Abigail, you're totally blindsiding me. I'm here to ask you to stay longer, and you want to leave sooner.” Don was saddened. He sighed repeatedly. “What's the hurry?”

“Dragging out my departure won't change the outcome.”

“What can I do to convince you to stay?”

“Nothing—”

“Can I create another senior role for you?”

“Don't be silly. I'm already an executive vice president.” She paused and then added, “You were the one who moved me from the fourth floor to executive row as soon as you took over. I appreciate your acknowledging my contributions, but the time has come to walk out.”

Don wasn't letting up. His plan would work only if Abigail was on board. There had to be an incentive that would make her consider staying. He had to keep tossing out ideas until he hit the right trigger. “Just tell me what we can do to keep you here at DMI? This is where you belong. Can I change your title, give you a bigger office, hire two more assistants for you, or give you more responsibility? What?” he said, zipping through his idea pool at maximum throttle. Nothing was off-limits.

“The only job above mine is yours as CEO, and the only thing I don't have is a seat on the board of directors,” she said.

Her statement reminded him that there were a few areas that were off-limits, and those were two. He'd have difficulty convincing his mother to relinquish either position. Without her endorsement, convincing the board would take some serious work on his end.

“Since you're not offering either of those, there's nothing left for me here.”

He didn't want to believe what Abigail was saying, but she might be right.

She went on. “Let's face it. We were a good team while it lasted. We've had a good run, but a lady always leaves the dance before the music stops.” She grimaced and added, “It's time for me to take a bow. You know it, and I know it.”

“No, I don't,” he replied.

“Well, denial never stopped the world from rotating. I love you, my dear friend, but don't make this harder than it has to be for any of us. Let me go. You'll be fine,” she told Don. “DMI will be fine, and I will be too.”

Don didn't want to be accused of pushing. He was forced to let the discussion rest, but Abigail's time with DMI wasn't over. Not yet. He had one more idea, one that was sure to change her mind about walking out DMI's doors for good. He'd catch up with his mother later to share his plan and get her approval.

Don trudged to his office, nurturing an idea that was, at best, in its infancy stage. He wasn't overly excited or dejected. How could he be? He'd prayed for direction prior to meeting with his mother and Abigail. Praying and worrying simultaneously burned too much energy. He refused to do both. Since he'd prayed, worrying was out.

There was a photo on his desk that captured Don's attention. It was the one he and Naledi had taken during his last trip to South Africa. He picked up the photo, fixated on her radiance. His soul leapt as he thought about the numerous drives they'd made to the cape, the edge of civilization, where the colossal power and majestic allure of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans clashed. Although the cape's terrain was rocky and difficult to negotiate, the place had an indescribable tranquility and beauty. So it was with the Mitchell clan. Despite their idiosyncrasies, stubbornness, and mean-spiritedness, he saw the compassion in each of them. Often it was buried underneath past hurts, unforgiveness, and mounds of rejection, but compassion and goodness were in each of his family members. Unfortunately, they didn't see it in themselves, which was why Don was convinced his family would continue spiraling aimlessly out of control until the veils of doubt and denial were lifted permanently from them.

Sometimes his heart operated on emotion instead of wisdom. He'd done his part. God had used him to bring the family to the same city. There was hope for further restoration, but Don wasn't sure he was the agent to handle the next phase of it. They'd worn him down, and he was ready to bolt. He drew the framed picture of him and Naledi closer. Regardless of where his heart wanted to be, his spirit, which represented his pure connection with God, was his guide.

As he reflected, Don resigned his desires in order to see the bigger plan fulfilled. If the Lord wanted him in Detroit, then that's where he had to be. On the other hand, if his season in Detroit was over then Don knew he had to go. The only thing worse than doing something God didn't lead him to do was staying in a place longer than required. He didn't intend on bolting too soon or lingering too long, which is why his decisions about DMI were going to be different.

He returned the photo to its rightful spot on his desk. He glanced at the walk clock and saw that it was ten thirty, which was around four thirty in the afternoon in South Africa. Naledi was bound to be in the office. This was the perfect hour to check in. Feeling nostalgic, he dialed her direct line. His emotions soared as he anticipated her voice answering on the other end.

“Good day,” she said, inspiring a heartfelt grin from him. It wasn't until she spoke that Don realized how much he missed her. She had been his angel in those early years, right after he fled Detroit and the self-manufactured turmoil swirling around his family. Those days had long passed and were only a memory, void of the sting.

“I'm so glad I was able to catch you in the office. I miss you terribly.”

“Yes, and I miss you,” she replied, which caused his grin to widen.

Don wished he could snap his fingers and be in Cape Town in the twinkling of an eye, but he wasn't going to ask God for such a miracle. Booking a flight next week, after the Zarah and West Coast division matters settled down, would be a sufficient miracle. He could hold out until then.

“Will you be traveling here soon?” she asked.

“Not soon enough,” he wanted to say. “Hopefully next week. We'll see.” He traced the frame of their picture. Just in case he couldn't leave, Don was formulating a backup plan. “What about you? Can your schedule accommodate a trip to the States? I really want to see you as soon as possible.”

When Don initially returned from South Africa, he was fully committed to restoring DMI and, as a result, had to spend an inordinate amount of time in the United States. Thank goodness Naledi had been able to keep LTI running smoothly with his sporadic visits and remote meetings. Don had to admit, God hadn't let his business lack for anything during his Mitchell family mission trip to Detroit. In the beginning, the distance from Naledi and LTI wasn't much of an issue. That had changed. He desired more personally. Between God's call, the workload of DMI, his mother's plea, and his unresolved feelings for Abigail, Don hadn't allowed himself to think remotely about the possibility of marriage and raising a family. It was time. Maybe the urge stemmed from his recent conversation with Joel. He wanted a family not in five years, but now.

“What do you think?” he asked when she didn't answer his question right away about her ability to travel.

He had to see her, to hold her, and to confess his love to her. He'd waited too long. She was the one he wanted, and there was no justification for waiting. Thinking about Joel and Zarah's ordeal forced Don to acknowledge how fleeting life was. There was no more tugging between old feelings for Abigail and fresh ones for Naledi. He was eager to taste the sweetness of love and marriage.

His future was bright with Naledi in the picture, but roadblocks sprung up. He wasn't quite ready to hop on a plane with a one-way ticket. Detroit wasn't loosening its grip. Steps had to be taken in order to completely free himself from DMI, like divesting their ownership position in Harmonious Energy. He turned his chair to face the windows and peered into the morning sky. Although there was a great deal left to handle, he wasn't worried as long as Naledi was waiting for him at the end of the road. Don was fueled like never before. He continued talking and laughing with her, enjoying a slew of topics. He savored each morsel. Life was good because God was good.

Tamara's night was restless. She'd tried sleeping but couldn't get Zarah off her mind. She jumped up early, dressed, and was on her way to the hospital. It was close to eleven. She had wanted to go earlier but didn't want to crowd Zarah. She called the car service because the bus and a suburban cab would take too much of her time. She was very anxious. Every traffic light seemed to be red, and the stop signs seemed to multiply. When the car rolled into the hospital lot, she wanted to hop out at the entrance and run the rest of the way. She was able to refrain and waited until the driver parked the car near the visitors' door.

“Should I wait for you, Ms. Mitchell?” her driver asked.

There was no other place she'd rather be. Tamara planned on staying at the hospital most of the day. “No. I'll call later to schedule a ride home.”

The car drove off. She dashed inside, prepared to barrel over anyone standing in her path to the maternity ward. She exited the elevator on the fourth floor and zoomed to the room where she'd left Zarah last night. She poked her head in. Her glee was zapped when she found herself staring into Joel's face. She'd hoped he had gone home or gone somewhere, anywhere, except the hospital. He'd established a reputation for being missing in action when it came to Zarah and the pregnancy. She was disappointed when she'd seen him hanging around the house, and now he'd been at the hospital for the second day and counting. She should have been thrilled for Zarah, but selfishly, she wanted her visit to be uninhibited. She choked up her disdain for Joel and his treatment of Zarah and walked into the room, determined not to argue with Joel. Zarah's well-being was most important, and Tamara would be on her best behavior.

“Tamara, I didn't plan on seeing you here so soon. You were here very late last night.”

Why didn't he expect her to be at the hospital? She was Zarah's only friend. She'd been there for his wife when he hadn't. She could have sliced him with a few choice phrases but wasn't going to. She swallowed her attitude and responded, “How's she doing?”

“Better,” he said softly. Joel stood and pointed toward the door. He exited the room, and Tamara followed. “She's sleeping off and on due to the medication. I didn't want us to wake her.”

“I understand,” Tamara replied.

“If you want me to call you later, when she's awake, I can,” Joel stated.

Tamara wasn't going anywhere. She had set aside the entire day for Zarah. Tamara understood that the wedge she'd placed between Joel and his wife might prompt him to shut her out. He could demand that she leave, but she hoped he wouldn't. “I'd rather stay until she wakes up.”

Joel slid his hands into his pants pockets. “Look here, regardless of what I think about you, I can't deny how much of a friend you've been to Zarah. She likes you.”

“And you don't?” she blurted, not screening her reaction.

“Like I said, it doesn't really matter what I think about you. You're here, and Zarah can use as much support as we can give. She would want you here. So I'm glad you came.”

“Thank you,” Tamara said, perplexed by the compliment coming from Joel.

“I'm running downstairs to get a cup of coffee. I'd appreciate it if you could sit with her while I'm gone. It should only be five or ten minutes.”

“Gladly, I'll sit with her.” For Zarah's sake, Tamara intended on behaving in a way that didn't threaten Joel. “Um, thanks again for letting me visit.”

“Just try to keep the visit short, and don't let her do too much talking if she does wake up. Rest is the medicine for her. Our baby needs as much help as we can give him or her to get here.”

“Agreed.” Tamara zeroed in on Joel's reference to “our baby.” She hadn't heard him speak in such a manner regarding the child. She took note but didn't make the comment an issue for Joel. Besides, it was his baby.

“Zarah has to stay away from stress, and I'm determined to make sure she does.”

Tamara liked what she was hearing from Joel. However, she wasn't sold on his sincerity. People could change, but not literally overnight. She wasn't convinced and would have to see more. The main thing was that they had to help Zarah protect the baby. As far as Tamara was concerned, that meant protecting Zarah and the baby from Joel, if necessary. She had her eye on him and wasn't going to blink.

“Does this mean you're going to assume the leadership of Harmonious Energy while she's sick?”

He coughed a few times. “Yes.”

“Then I know what this means for me,” she stated boldly. “You're keeping the West Coast for yourself?”

Joel stood away from the wall. “Tamara, this isn't the place to discuss business. I have one purpose at this hospital, and that's my wife.”

Wow. He was smooth, she acknowledged. She stood there, speechless. Without warning, she was forced to concede their battle over the West Coast division. Joel had ridden in on his gallant horse and had rescued his damsel in distress. The reward for his chivalrous gesture was Zarah's company. She smirked within and swallowed the defeat.

“You're right. Zarah is our reason for being here. Just so you know, she's the only friend I've had in fifteen years.” Constantly moving for over a decade didn't lend itself to making friends. “I may seem pushy sometimes, but it's because I believe in loyalty.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding like he didn't believe Tamara.

She was annoyed but didn't react. He didn't have to believe her. She knew the truth. Zarah had believed in Tamara for who she was, without judgment. For that, Tamara was grateful and wanted to be there for her friend, even if it required putting up with Joel. She'd stay a short while and then leave, not wanting to stress Zarah or make Joel uncomfortable. She figured that was what a friend was supposed to do.