One Prayer Away (11 page)

Why she did not feel the same apprehension about Mitchell, Beverly couldn't explain. The last thing she wanted to do was to send Virtue into the lion's den, but there was something calming about knowing Mitchell wanted to see Virtue that made Beverly believe that it was a safe decision.
She almost voiced her opinion but rethought her position. It would be unethical, in the position that she was in, for her to make that decision for Virtue. Had her friend approached her away from the office, perhaps Beverly would have felt more comfortable with offering personal advice. But in her office at HCW she had to think like a counselor, not a friend.

“What are you going to do?” she asked Virtue without turning to face her.

“Well, I'm not going to meet with him, if that's what you're worried about,” Virtue blurted. “I don't know what he wants, but if he can't say it to an answering machine, he won't say it at all.”

It wasn't the answer that Beverly had hoped for, and she was glad that her window-watching hid her look of disappointment. She understood Virtue's lingering bitterness, but Beverly still struggled with the unexplainable trust she had for the man who had caused Virtue so much pain.

“Why?” Being the professional that she was, Beverly was able to ask the one-word question without it sounding judgmental or accusing.

“Because whatever he has to say, I don't want to hear,” Virtue answered. “Who does Mitchell think he is anyway? I haven't heard from him in years; now all of a sudden he has something that he needs to tell me?
Whatever
!” she huffed.

Virtue's words were laced with hostility, but Beverly also captured a hint of something else. As heated as Virtue's tone was, her voice carried a slight but noticeable quiver, indicating that somewhere there were more tears that wanted to be set free. Virtue succeeded in holding them back, but when Beverly turned from the window and faced her, she was sure that she saw more pain than anger in Virtue's expression.

“Are you afraid to meet with him?” Beverly asked.

Virtue was quick to shake her head. “Absolutely not,” she insisted. “If he thinks I'm the same woman who allowed him to slap her around back then, he couldn't be more wrong. I can't even believe he shaped his mouth to say that I could bring people with me if I wanted to, like I need a bodyguard. For all he knows,
he
might be the one who would need protection.”

Beverly chuckled as she walked back toward her desk and sat in the chair behind it. Virtue had misinterpreted her question. When Beverly asked if she was afraid to meet with him, she wasn't asking whether Virtue feared that Mitchell would hit her again. Beverly's question was far more complex. What she really wanted to know was if Virtue's real concern was that being in close quarters with Mitchell again and talking to him in person would unleash the affection that not seeing him had allowed her to discount. Those feelings had played no part in signing the papers that ended their three-year marriage. Those were the emotions that Virtue succeeded in hiding from everyone except Beverly.

On one hand, Beverly wanted to explain herself further, but it was no use. She knew Virtue would deny it. Sometimes she wondered if Virtue was even aware of her true feelings. She'd refuted them for so long that she seemed to have convinced herself into believing that nothing remained of the love that she and Mitchell had once shared. Beverly chose her next words carefully.

“Sometimes putting true closure on a situation is the only way to truly get beyond it, Virtue,” Beverly said, making sure that her tone sounded like that of a therapist.

“What do you mean?”

Her tactic had worked. Virtue didn't become defensive or jump to conclusions like she often did when they spoke to each other about this subject away from the office. Beverly continued.

“There was never any real closure put on your relationship
with your ex-husband, and there really should be. The last time he hit you, you left, and the two of you never saw one another or spoke to one another again. No doubt, there are some things that you really needed to say to him. You needed to let him know how much he hurt you and how disappointed you were in him for forcing you to end what was supposed to be a lifetime commitment.”

Looking directly across her desk at Virtue, Beverly knew that she'd struck a chord and was on the right track.

“Not only that,” she continued, “but I'm sure there were some things that Mitchell needed to say as well. As far-fetched as it may seem, he might need you to hear him say that he regrets the hurt and pain that he caused. You may not want to hear it, but in order for him to move on, he may need to say it to you. Who knows? Perhaps he's grown up over the past seven years. He may have tried to pick up the pieces and even remarried.”

Beverly noted the drop in Virtue's face when she voiced the possibility of Mitchell being in another committed relationship, but she moved on without addressing it.

“The bottom line is: God has commanded us to forgive. I'm not saying that you are supposed to be able to forget everything that happened; I'm only suggesting that Mitchell may be looking for the chance to clear his conscience. For the sake of his present life, he may need that.”

“I don't owe him anything, Beverly,” Virtue said, her voice unstable once more.

“I know.” Beverly nodded. “But Jesus didn't owe us anything either. Yet He paid it all. Think about that.”

Ten

M
itchell was surprised on Wednesday morning when he arrived at Jackson, Jackson & Andrews ahead of his always-prompt partner. Seven more minutes and Chris would be what Mitchell was generally known to be—late. With Chris constantly preaching sermons on annoying little things like how being on time could be the difference between the failure and success of a business, his late arrival would give Mitchell something to needle him about today. He was sure Chris would blame today's dragging on the sniffles that he battled through yesterday. December's change of weather had taken a toll on many of the citizens of Dallas. Mitchell felt lucky that he'd not so much as sneezed yet this season.

“The water is already hot,” Barbara said as he spoke to her on his way to his office. “I'll bring you a cup in just a minute.”

Noting the wad of tissue on Barbara's desk, Mitchell felt that, just to be on the safe side, he'd excuse her from her morning duties. “No bother, Barbara. I'll get it myself. Thanks.”

With both her and Chris fighting runny noses and other cold-related symptoms, Mitchell was left to wonder whether his apple cider packed some secret weapon that their coffee didn't. As he turned the corner and walked through his office's open door, Mitchell noticed that he was whistling a tune. What the tune was, he wasn't exactly sure, but it was a good sign. He couldn't remember the last time he had whistled while he prepared for work.

Today, Mitchell felt more relaxed than he had in weeks. That was mostly due to the fact that he'd had the most restful night he'd had in weeks. He still hadn't spoken directly with Virtue, but having reached out to her and offered an olive branch of sorts had lightened what he now knew was a burdensome load that had been riding his shoulders for the better part of seven years.

Yesterday he'd sat at his desk and watched his phone, wondering if Virtue would call him as he'd asked and contemplating what he'd say if she did. Twice during the work hours and once after he'd gotten home, Mitchell had picked up the telephone and began dialing the number to her office at the Houston church. It wasn't until after he'd eaten dinner and was taking his shower that reality finally set in. Virtue had probably gotten his message Monday afternoon. The reason she hadn't returned his call after more than twenty-four hours was because she didn't want to. Once Mitchell accepted the truth that she never would, he was able to release much of his anxiety. The disappointment that she'd chosen not to talk to or meet with him continued to linger, but Mitchell recounted the facts and understood her decision. During his prayer time last night, he'd found a level of peace in knowing that he'd tried. After all, trying was all he could do.

“Any word from Chris this morning?” Mitchell asked after putting his belongings in his office and stepping back out into the hallway to fill his cup with water.

“I spoke with him a little earlier,” Barbara called back. “He said he'd be in.”

“Four minutes,” Mitchell whispered with a grin as he looked at the clock on his office wall just before emptying a packet of drink mix in the steaming cup and settling in the chair behind his desk.

Working with Chris sometimes brought out the kid in him. Christopher James Jackson was by all definitions a serious businessman. When it came to the company that his father had founded, Chris didn't cut corners or do anything with mediocrity. Every completed file had to reek of excellence, and every customer had to feel as if he or she was the most valued one on the roster. Yet, despite his need for perfection, Chris knew how to relax and enjoy life. He was the brother that Mitchell never had. Often-times, Mitchell saw Chris as the poster child for the faithful friend that Solomon spoke of in Proverbs 18:24.

“Man!” he whispered in disappointment at the sound of the front door buzzer. “Two more minutes and I would have had you.”

Getting up from behind his mass of paperwork that he'd just begun working on, Mitchell prepared to walk out and greet his partner, but the ringing of his telephone stopped him in his tracks. He reasoned that he'd just catch Chris when he made his stop in the hall outside his door. Chris never started his morning without coffee. Picking up the telephone, Mitchell said, “Good morning. Mitchell Andrews speaking.”

The voice on the other end of the line had a hint of familiarity, but it was far more raspy than normal.

“Hey, Mitch.”

“Chris?” Mitchell asked after a brief hesitation. “Is that you?”

“Yeah. Hold on a sec.”

Looking again through his open door into the hallway, Mitchell was now confused. He was sure that it was Chris
who had entered the front door of the office just moments earlier, but apparently he had guessed wrong. Mitchell held the phone and waited while listening to Chris release a fit of heavy coughs. His cold had worsened.

“I'm not gonna be able to come in today, man,” he growled after he'd caught his breath. “I'm gonna do what I can at my computer here at home, but I don't want to bring this into the office.”

“And I appreciate that, Wolfman Jack,” Mitchell teased, hoping to conjure up a laugh from his friend. “If you get lonely over there, you might want to send for Barbara. She's not sounding too good either.”

“Yeah, I spoke to her earlier. She said she wasn't feeling her best, but she wanted to tough it out. I told her to go on home when you got there, but she told me if I could come in to work sounding like I did, then she could definitely do it.” Chris paused to cough again, but this time it didn't sound as painful as the first. He begged Mitchell's pardon and continued. “Since I'm not coming in now and I feel partly responsible for Barbara's cold, I sent a replacement for her today so she could go on home and get some rest.”

Mitchell frowned. “A replacement?”

“Good morning, Mr. Andrews,” a voice sang from behind him.

Mitchell turned to face the door, and his heart seemed to plummet. Standing in his doorway, dressed in a pair of chocolate-colored corduroy pants and a cream cropped sweater, was Lisa. Mitchell licked his lips in an attempt to ease the sudden dryness. Chris's hoarse voice did little to break the tension.

“Yeah. I called Lisa. She's on vacation from work this week, and she's accustomed to receptionist work. I figured that you'd be way more comfortable having her there with you for a couple of days than having to deal with some stranger from a temp agency.”

You thought wrong.
For a minute Mitchell wondered if
the comeback had bounced from his brain and had escaped through his lips. He looked back toward the door, and Lisa was still standing there, smiling. It was apparent that his thoughts had remained his own. Just a moment ago, he'd been all for Barbara going home and getting the rest she needed, but that was when Mitchell thought that he'd be manning the office alone. It would be a challenge, but in Mitchell's mind it wouldn't be nearly the challenge that he was in for now.