As soon as the three agreed to enter the sanctuary, a soft voice rose up in the vestibule. “My goodness, if it isn’t the Mitchell boys. Ooh, look what the cat done dragged in.”
“Mother Walker, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Don replied. He was excited, as if she was an angel the Lord had sent directly to him.
“It is good to see you, Mother Walker,” Joel added.
Mother Walker flung her hands in the air and hugged them. “No need to be so formal. Everybody around here calls me Big Mama. You can too.” Don and Joel nodded, acknowledging her request. “It’s been, what? The better part of a year since the two of you came to fellowship with us?”
Don attempted to tell her he’d been to the church earlier in the year, but Big Mama was the equivalent of a rock star. She had him tongue-tied. He cleared his throat several times to regain his composure. Joel didn’t seem bothered, but he wasn’t speaking much, either. Abigail was quiet too.
“Service is going to be starting in a few minutes. Please take your seat in the sanctuary,” an usher announced.
Don wasn’t going anywhere. Big Mama had his complete attention.
The ushers corralled people inside. “Excuse me, Big Mama, but we’re getting ready to start. Did you want me to escort you down front?” an usher asked.
She flung her hands in the air again. “No need. I’m able-bodied. I sho’ thank you for offering to help me get to my seat, but I’m not going in yet. I want to visit a little piece longer with our guests.”
The usher didn’t resist.
Big Mama turned to Joel. “You’re still running, huh?”
“What? Excuse me?” Joel replied.
“You’ve been gone for a long time, but now you need to come home,” she told Joel.
“You’re right. I was in Chicago, but I returned to Detroit a few weeks ago.”
The church mother hesitated and shook her head. “I mean, you need to come back home in the spirit. You’ve been gone too long. God is waiting on you to return to Him. He’s a patient God, but you don’t want to keep Him waiting too long.” She patted his hand. “Hear me good,” she said.
Anxiety was swelling within Don. He was like a kid who was waiting his turn to ride the roller coaster. But Big Mama grabbed Abigail’s hand next.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked.
“Not much,” Abigail said.
“When you’ve done all you can do, then stand,” she said, squeezing Abigail’s hand tighter.
“Enjoy the service and come see us anytime. We’re glad to have you,” Big Mama told them.
Where was the rest? Where was his prophetic word? There had to be something left for Don. Joel and Abigail had gotten theirs. Now it was his turn. Yet Big Mama was walking away. He wanted to throw himself in her path and ask for a confirmation. She was getting farther away, and then he sighed. What was he thinking? His relationship with God had matured over the past three years enough for Don to know that He often spoke in quiet moments. God was the master of heaven and earth, full of power and resources. Each challenge and disappointment had laid a brick in the foundation of Don’s faith. He had a personal relationship with God that was rooted in prayer, peace, faith, and thanksgiving. Don was embarrassed to be chasing after a person to give him a word from God. Where was his faith?
“Are you ready to go inside?” Don asked Joel and Abigail.
“I am. But you have to admit, the old lady makes some wild comments. Still, I like her,” Joel whispered. “Everything she has told us in the past has come true in one way or another, but you need an interpreter to understand the message.”
Abigail agreed, and Don too. They went inside for the service. The differences among them were left at the door, and for a brief season they were fellowshipping.
When the church service ended, Don exchanged pleasantries with his brother. Finally, he asked, “Anyone interested in lunch?”
“I’m going to decline,” Abigail told him.
“Why? You can’t possibly be working today,” Don said.
“No, it’s not work,” she said, cutting her gaze at Joel.
“Don’t worry, big brother. She’s telling the truth,” Joel observed. “It’s not work that’s holding her back. It’s being around me that’s churning her stomach.”
Don shook his head. “She doesn’t have a problem with you.”
“You’re wrong, big brother, on this one.” Joel turned to Abigail. Isn’t he?”
“You seem to have all the answers,” Abigail said.
“See? I told you,” Joel told Don. “But it’s okay. I’m going to see Zarah. So I have to take a rain check, anyway.”
Don didn’t attempt to change their minds. It required too much effort. He was going to drop Abigail off and go to lunch alone. Sometimes the only route to peace was sitting alone. Sometimes it was the only way to hear from God and get clarity on the direction he had to go.
Eager to escape, Don was suddenly relieved that both Joel and Abigail had declined his lunch invitation.
Chapter 31
Monday morning presented a fresh start. Joel had survived the series of letdowns from last week. He sat on a park bench as Mother Walker’s words circled in his mind. She had told him to call her Big Mama, and he would in person, but Joel had become accustomed to her more formal name. Regardless of which name she used, her messages were like double-sided tape. Once she attached a message to you, there was no way to escape. A person was stuck with trying to understand the implications. Odd as it sounded, he was as glad to see Mother Walker as he had been intimidated. Usually, he didn’t have a clue about what she was saying. Yesterday was no exception. He understood the need to rebuild his faith and his reliance on God’s plan. He was open to developing his spiritual prowess. The problem was Mother Walker didn’t provide definitive instructions for what he needed to do. She might as well have given him a treasure chest without the key. When Joel finally figured out how to open the chest, he might be forty years old, well beyond his prime.
If worrying was effective, he’d gladly partake. Even in the middle of a spiritual drought, he knew worrying wasn’t the answer. So he didn’t. He stretched his arms out across the bench. The air was chilly, but not so frigid that he wanted to pack up and leave. Minor discomforts he could handle. It was the major ones that threatened to knock him onto the canvas.
Mother Walker wasn’t the only visitor consuming his thoughts this morning. Zarah had an equal presence. What was going on with her? He had thoroughly enjoyed the last couple of encounters. He wasn’t familiar with the enthusiastic, intelligent, and passionate side of Zarah. His memory was lined with the unflattering remnants of a dull, docile, and dependent girl. He wanted the woman who could challenge him professionally, could stand her ground spiritually, and was able to capture the attention of every onlooker in the room. Any woman who brought less to the relationship wasn’t likely to get the best from him. Iron sharpened iron. He was on top of his game when there was an equal exchange. He had an indescribable bond with Sheba, a mutual exchange of support and respect, a natural fit. He patted his chest, thinking about Sheba, until the image of Zarah aggressively cut in. She didn’t seem to be fleeing. He sat on the bench and let the sweet memories of both women marinate.
The ringing zapped his period of reflection. He fumbled to get the phone out of his pocket and answered quickly when he saw the number displayed.
“Uncle Frank, just the man I wanted to hear from,” he said. “What’s the good news?”
“It’s a bust, nephew.”
The statement sliced into him. “Oh, come on, Uncle Frank. I thought you had clout with these guys.”
“My clout isn’t the problem. It’s your bank account. They want eight hundred million. Based on our last conversation, that number seems too big for your wallet.”
Joel was getting riled up. He stood and put his foot on the bench. “How can they justify eight hundred million dollars for one small division? That’s ridiculous!” he shouted.
“That’s highway robbery!”
Uncle Frank chuckled. “What do you expect? These are simple businessmen trying to make a profit on their investment, the investment you handed to them on a silver platter, nephew.”
Joel was aware of how these guys had acquired the division. He didn’t need Uncle Frank to remind him of his mistake. They needed to dwell on the present and let the past stay buried.
“You told me this deal was coming in at seven hundred million, not eight.”
“Do you have seven hundred?” Uncle Frank fired back.
“No,” Joel replied quietly. His mother would gladly donate something to his cause, although she had nowhere near seven or eight hundred. He wouldn’t dare ask Sheba. Joel was on his own, and he wanted it that way. “I don’t have seven, but—”
“But nothing,” Uncle Frank interrupted, and then chuckled. His incessant chuckling was driving Joel batty. “You don’t get it, do you? These cats are no joke. They’re not playing games. If you want the division, show them the money. If you don’t have it, shut up and stop wasting my time. Otherwise, I’ll have to charge you for these consulting sessions with or without a deal.”
Joel considered sharing a few choice words with his uncle, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. As much as he hated what his uncle was saying, Joel acknowledged there was a great deal of underlying truth. Uncle Frank didn’t create the original problem. It was a result of Joel’s handiwork. He was humbled and had to fully accept the consequences of his decisions.
“Uncle Frank?”
“What?” his uncle replied with resounding agitation in his voice.
“Thank you for reaching out to your investors on my behalf. It didn’t work out, but I appreciate your effort.”
A reaction he didn’t expect to hear followed.
“Hang in there, nephew. You’re smart, and you know how to make things happen. You’re going to land on your feet. I’m sure of it.” Joel wasn’t seeking validation, but it was a welcomed surprise from his father’s brother. “Take my advice. When you make a deal, always make sure it’s an equal exchange. If you’re giving up too much to close a deal, then it’s probably one you should walk away from.” Uncle Frank chuckled. It didn’t bother Joel this time. He was in a different place emotionally. And the advice didn’t sting. Joel actually found it insightful. “I’m giving you this tidbit for free, no charge on this one.”
They said their good-byes and terminated the call, along with Joel’s plan.
Chapter 32
Joel should have been devastated that one of his few remaining ventures had been taken off the table. There wasn’t a company for him to buy or one for him to run. He was out of luck. Joel rested his elbow on his bent knee, remembering a nugget of wisdom his father had once shared. Joel had to rely either on luck or on God, not both. His weakened spirit cried out for him to continue pursuing a solution through the Lord. He was growing weary and didn’t want to continue beating his head for a lost cause, but his determination wouldn’t allow him to become sidelined. There had to be more he could do before completely surrendering to faith. He just wasn’t ready to make a comprehensive return to God, not yet, not while his plans were in disarray. Admittedly, he had created his problems and had to be the one to fix them. When he was able to put the pieces back together and embark on a path to success, then he could seek restoration from God as a winner.
He attempted to clear the flurry of revelations and the chaos from his mind. There had to be something he was missing. If he could just think clearly, he’d see it. While laboring over the matter, he kept thinking about Zarah. She was it. Somehow acquiring control or ownership of her division really was the way forward. He poked out his chest, feeling much more confident about his success rate with her than with Uncle Frank and his partners.
Shrouded in confidence, Joel went to his car. He would go home and plead his case directly to his wife. Joel was prepared to cash his chips in on the strength of one hand. Right and wrong seemed to be waging a minor struggle within him, but he wasn’t going to let doubt overcome necessity. He needed this deal. Zarah had to understand. As concrete as his plan appeared to be, honestly, he couldn’t forget the church mother’s comments. She’d given him crucial advice in the past, several times, mostly warnings about his decisions. He hadn’t heeded her wisdom then, and his whole world had crumbled.
He tried at each turn to forget her words from Sunday morning, but he was unsuccessful in shaking himself free from that encounter with her. He zipped down the highway, reaching his exit in about thirty minutes. A whole host of scenarios played out in his head. He had to develop a cohesive strategy before approaching Zarah. In the past, he could roll in with a grin and a lullaby. Since she’d taken on a new persona, he didn’t want to underestimate her. He’d give her the same professional courtesy others got.
He whipped into a coffee shop situated off the highway. Inside, Joel ordered an espresso and grabbed a stack of napkins.
The waitress gave him a wide smile. “I haven’t seen you in here before,” the young lady said.
Joel guessed she was around seventeen or eighteen, certainly not in his twenty-six year old league. She was flattering him, and there was a time when he would have played along. Today his priority was business. She set the espresso on the counter.
“Thanks,” he told her.
“Anytime,” she replied, leaning against the counter and maintaining the wide smile.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure,” she said immediately. “What can I do for you?”
Reacting was enticing, but he would pass. He had more important matters to handle. “Do you have a pen I could use?” he said, sealing the request with his signature grin.
She blushed and quickly fumbled for a pen underneath the counter. She surfaced with the writing utensil, appearing proud about her accomplishment. Joel winked as he took the pen, and his hand touched hers. She giggled.
“Joel Mitchell,” he heard someone call out. He turned to find an old acquaintance, Samantha Tate, standing nearby. “I saw the canary-yellow Lamborghini in the parking lot and wondered if it could possibly be your car. And what do you know? It is. Well, well, well, how long has it been?” she asked.
Joel turned toward the counter to get his espresso. The waitress’s smile had converted to a bitter-looking snarl, and she stomped off. “I think it’s been about a year. What’s been going on with you?”
“Still working at the TV station.”
He’d met the reporter during a local talk show interview several years ago. They had connected before he got married, and had spent a considerable amount of time together. She was tall, thin, and quite pleasing in the looks department. Her milk chocolate–colored skin, with a generous portion of cream, blended well with her brown hair.
“Let’s grab a seat. Do you want anything?” he asked, spilling a few drops of coffee onto the counter.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” she said, letting her dimples punctuate the statement.
Joel tried getting the waitress’s attention. She wasn’t eager to respond. “Excuse me, miss. Can I place another order?” he called out.
The waitress schlepped over to him without exhibiting any of the courtesies she had extended earlier. He understood and chuckled. Her interest was fleeting. He hoped Zarah’s interest in his offer wouldn’t suffer the same death.
“Can I please get another espresso?”
“Yeah, sure,” the waitress said.
Joel was glad to see the coffee machine in plain view. Otherwise, he might be concerned about Samantha drinking a cup of coffee made by his new admirer. When the order was ready, he grabbed the cup and hurriedly led the way to a table. He didn’t need any more disgruntled women on his list.
“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” he said, as they found a table and sat. He drank from his cup.
“I had an interview with Zarah Bengali.”
Some of Joel’s coffee spurted out of his mouth
, and then he gave a series of heavy coughs.
“Are you all right?” Samantha asked.
Joel snatched a handful of napkins he’d taken from the counter and began wiping off the table.
“You okay?”
Joel cleared his throat. “I’m good. Thanks for asking.” He wiped up the remaining coffee. “Did you say Zarah Bengali?”
“Yes—”
Joel wondered if it was Samantha or Zarah who had chosen to use the last name of Bengali instead of Mitchell. The omission bothered him. “You know she’s my wife?”
“I do, and your marriage is intriguing.”
“Really?” he said, wiping the table although the coffee was gone. “How so?”
“You have to admit it’s not every day when a prominent executive from Detroit takes a wife from India and combines two multimillion-dollar companies. This is big news for us.”
Joel didn’t want to be in the middle of a media circus because Zarah was venturing into the corporate sector and nosy spectators wanted details. He was nervous as he thought about what kind of information might have been revealed under the guise of getting the scoop. He cringed, thinking about the possibilities.
“What did you talk about?” he asked, afraid of what was coming next.
“She’s very intriguing. I didn’t realize just how stunning your wife is,” Samantha said. “We did a ten-minute segment on women in the corporate sector.”
“I’m surprised you picked her. She’s new on the scene.”
“You’d never know. She was poised and very articulate,” Samantha said after sipping her coffee. “Other than her accent, of course.”
He was irritated by watching people flock to Zarah in droves, each with their own agenda. They might not be living as husband and wife, but he wasn’t going to tolerate people taking advantage of the predicament. Not his family and certainly not members of the press, even if they were as enticing as Ms. Tate had been in the past.
Humbled Page 14
