Destined

by Patricia Haley

  Naledi left and Don reclaimed the seat at his desk. No sense putting off the inevitable. The bridge to Michigan had to be mended if there was to be any chance at success. Abigail was hoping for a miracle. Maybe he could pull one off without having to board a plane. He flipped through his phone directory, reaching the letter M. It had been so long since he and Joel had spoken that the number had long left his memory. In thinking about it, the number may not have ever been in his long-term mental database. Joel was his brother by blood, at least the Mitchell portion, and that was the extent of the connection. Neither had tried to make the forced fit more than it was. But today he dialed the phone, recognizing that working together was the most ideal path to saving a company that Joel had driven to the brink of bankruptcy, according to Abigail.

  Several rings and Joel was on the line. Words didn’t immediately spring forward. Finally Don was able to string a thought together, void of substantial resentment. “This is Don.” Silence hovered, neither taking the next step until Don reflected on his mission. If he could get Joel to accept outside help with managing the company, Don could be spared the dilemma of going to Detroit. “It’s been a long time, little brother.”

  “It has been,” Joel said, offering no more.

  “Look, I’m not calling to make small talk. Let me get right to business. I understand that DMI is going through a financial crisis with your merger and there might be a way for me to help.”

  “DMI is fine and has been since I’ve been CEO. I don’t know what your mother has told you,” Joel said, letting the words roll off with a sharp bite, “but this company has done better under my leadership than it ever did with my father.”

  “Our father,” Don interjected.

  “Wow, that’s interesting coming from you, someone who wanted nothing to do with our father or our company when you left. I’m curious as to why it is that all of a sudden you care one iota about DMI. We’re doing fine.”

  Don refused to feed into the negativity. He’d lived that existence for a long time and was free. He wasn’t going back to the constant bickering, but Abigail’s plea wouldn’t be silenced. If she said DMI was in trouble, it was in trouble. “I’m not trying to resurrect our differences. This isn’t about you or me. This is about retaining the company that our father started. I was asked to help, and I’m offering my support.”

  “Who asked you?” Joel said, surprisingly calm. “Your mother?”

  “Actually, it was Abigail.” A name Don was certain Joel didn’t expect to hear. Her level of unwavering devotion to Joel had been difficult for Don, but time had created a scar of acceptance. Joel said nothing. “She believes I can help. So, here I am.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I have DMI under control. You can keep all your focus on handling your business in South Africa and I’ll take care of the U.S.”

  “Are you sure?” Don asked, refusing to give up so easily.

  “One hundred percent.”

  “Then I guess that’s that.”

  “I guess it is,” Joel said, maintaining the same edge in his tone.

  The good-bye was abrupt. Don held the receiver, not knowing what he’d expected to happen with the call. Of course Joel wasn’t going to hand over the reins of DMI to someone who would come in and tell him what to do. No CEO would. Don got that. His involvement would face opposition. Joel had won the last round decisively. Don grappled with the request that had come from a woman who could have been his wife had Joel not stolen her affection and discarded it along his path of recklessness. Joel’s pattern was consistent with women and with DMI, a company their father didn’t deem Don worthy of inheriting although he was the oldest. He held a master’s degree in business, and possessed ten years of experience at the time the decision was made. While Joel had barely completed college and had one or two fragmented years of experience.

  Maybe the day had come for Don to face his demons and return to Detroit, to grapple with DMI, to face his brother, to take a stand in the place where he was being drawn by his bond with Abigail, to deal with the suppressed guilt about his mother’s predicament, or his passive frustration with God. He wasn’t certain what the most compelling factor was in this instance. Don returned the phone receiver to its base long enough to get his sister’s number. Hopefully Abigail’s miracle was on the other end of the call. Nothing less could move his sister, Tamara, to action. Getting her to agree to do the unthinkable and sign her stock ownership over to Don was impossible. If by some miracle she was on board, he could take control of the company and be empowered to get DMI back on track quickly so that he could regain his solitude. Attempting to work with Joel had failed. Going in by force united with Tamara and Mother was the next option but not his preference. Truth was, he wasn’t up for an all-out battle. The notion trampled around in his thoughts, sparking an undesirable feeling. The voice that was directing him along this path better belong to God, otherwise Don might as well jab the dagger into his own gut and accelerate his demise.

  chapter

  2

  Joel stood in his office, peering out the window. The conversation with Don two days ago wouldn’t vanish. There was a time when getting a call from his big brother would have been a joy. So much animosity, too much time and rejection had mounted. Who did Don think he was calling to help fix DMI? It wasn’t broken. Nobody had given Joel a fighting chance when he was named CEO. He hadn’t robbed Don of the job. That was purely their father’s choice. Once the decision was made, Joel dedicated his life to learning the business, obtaining wisdom, and mastering the CEO role. Realizing that his bachelor’s degree in economics was insufficient, he aggressively pursued an array of executive management programs weekend after weekend, packing in the knowledge. People saw him as someone gaining wisdom overnight, unaware of how hard he worked to obtain it. He moved to the desk and pounded his knuckles lightly.

  No one could deny that DMI had tripled in sales under his watch. It was him, not his father, who was finally taking the company international with the pending merger. Still, it wasn’t sufficient to please the naysayers. He was the unrecognized child of Dave Mitchell, questioned from birth, and nothing he’d ever do could overshadow the stigma. Don’s word left no lingering sting. Joel had perfected that technique from his childhood. His training came from growing up as the only child with half brothers and sisters who didn’t acknowledge him. He’d spent his whole life living in the shadows of his father’s other children, the ones deemed legitimate. He had value and he refused to let anything stop him from proving it. After he achieved his goal, there would be no one on earth who could deny his worth as a bona fide Mitchell, the deserving keeper of his father’s legacy. Don was not an issue, but having Abigail speak ill of him stung. Making DMI a success was his main priority, and he needed her more now than ever. He went to her office determined to regain her trust.

  Joel stood in Abigail’s office, close enough for her to be sucked in by the scent of his distinctly bold cologne and the allure of his hypnotic words. “I got a call from Don.”

  “Really,” she said, not sure how much he knew of her call to Don.

  “I have to admit, I was quite surprised,” he said placing his foot on the corner of her couch and resting his hand on his thigh. “He seems to think that you want his help in rescuing DMI from the merger and from me, too, I guess.”

  The road with Joel was rocky, but she didn’t want to stir ill will with him. She chose her words carefully, separating emotion from business. “It’s no secret where I stand.”

  “As the leader in this ministry, my first allegiance is to keeping the doors open for business and maintaining a vision,” he said.

  “You can’t consider this a ministry anymore. The purpose of a ministry is to help others. The only person you seem to be helping is you. Where’s your allegiance to the rest of us?”

  “Where’s your allegiance to me?” he pushed back.

  She shot a piercing gaze at him that was sure to burn a hole in his retina if maintained too
long. Commitment wasn’t a subject she cared to address with him. There wasn’t ample time in the year.

  “What will it take for you to change your mind?” he asked. Like being in a trance, she had to shake free and keep focused. She realized it was a nearly impossible task as he continued. “I need you, Abigail, like I’ve never needed you before. I don’t care what the rest of the executive team does, but you matter to me. I can’t pull this merger off without your support.” He took her hand. “We’re a team, a good team, and you know it. Nothing or nobody can stop the two of us when we’re united.”

  She snatched her hand back, refusing to be sucked in again as she’d so easily been throughout most of their partnership, relationship, or whatever the right term was for what they used to be. Maybe one day she’d be able to figure it out, sometime later, after it didn’t hurt as much. “Let’s be honest, you don’t need me. Aren’t you planning to get married?” He didn’t respond. “Like I said, you don’t need me.” He’d betrayed her, but the four-letter word “hate” would never enter her heart when it came to Joel. With her reaching out for Don’s help, Joel would probably chalk up her decision to join the opposing management team as betrayal or revenge, but she knew better. As the executive senior vice president, she had an obligation to protect the integrity of DMI. She’d been in denial too long. The company was headed in the wrong direction with Joel at the helm. It was time for action. Her mind spoke as her passion remained silent. “Your father founded DMI on religious principles. Those principles have always been our foundation. I can’t support your decision to merge with a company that has different principles than ours.”

  “What’s the big deal?” he said, leaping to his feet and pacing the room with his hands brushing across his head. Abigail noticed an elevation in his voice that she didn’t typically hear from Joel. He was always calm and controlled. “Who cares what religion they practice? Our focus is on buying a stable company that happens to have an extensive base of international customers. We have to concentrate on the business, not some holy-rolly diversion.”

  She could see that the man standing in her office was Joel. The voice was recognizable, but that was the only familiar characteristic. His agitated tone and lackadaisical view about religion rendered him a stranger, making her argument easier to defend. “You’re right, this isn’t about religion. This is about maintaining a Godly foundation in this ministry, one that your father built,” she said, feeling a tinge of frustration. “He sought God for direction and ran DMI accordingly. You did, too, at first. I don’t know what’s happened to you, Joel. You’re scaring me.”

  “Why, because I’m willing to step out of the shadows of my father and run this company with leadership and my own vision? My father did okay, but you know DMI has never been as profitable and worth nearly as much until I took over. You have to give me that.”

  “Okay, fine. I agree with you. Your statement was true up until six months ago, but not now. We’re losing customers.” What Joel was losing was far worse and more important to her—his perspective.

  “So what? We have so many customers that losing a few won’t matter. Besides, once we merge with Harmonious Energy, we’ll quadruple the few shortsighted customers that have left. If they don’t want to be a part of an award-winning international team, so be it,” he said, flailing his hand haphazardly into the air.

  When Joel was first chosen to be CEO, he had had an unquenchable thirst for wisdom. From that time on, he was unstoppable and undeniably brilliant in the boardroom, with his ideas, people skills, vision, and way of motivating the team. DMI days were amazing back when Joel was spiritually grounded. After Joel excluded God from his way of life, morale had spiraled downward in the office.

  “Joel, it’s not too late to drop this merger. Tell Mr. Musar Bengali we’ve changed our minds. We can put this mistake behind us, rally together, and get this company back on track.” There was a time not so long ago when the strength and uniqueness of their bond would have been adequate to sway this decision. The man standing before her was not that man, the one whose soul used to dance with hers daily, tiptoed jointly around pitfalls, and leaped over obstacles together. This dance he had to do alone. She wouldn’t dishonor the memory of Dave Mitchell, her mentor and the closest image of a father she’d known, by collaborating with Joel on a doomed strategy. There wasn’t much hope of changing Joel’s mind since he was adamant about the deal, but she had to try one last time. “If you won’t reconsider for me, think about your father. He dedicated his life to building this ministry. He instructed us to keep our spiritual convictions in the forefront of this ministry and, most important, he told you never to sell off pieces. If you merge with Harmonious Energy, you’ll have to sell off the West Coast division, and you know your father would roll over in his grave.”

  Without hesitation he said, “I’m in charge, not my father. Like you said, he’s in the grave. I’m the one running this place. I’m doing what’s best for DMI.”

  “Same here. I’m going to do what’s best for DMI, and for me, too, for a change. How about that?”

  “And what does that mean? Is there something you’re trying to tell me? Normally I wouldn’t have to ask, but you and everybody else are acting weird lately,” he said, stroking his chin a couple of times and staring past her. “I don’t know who to trust around here. What’s this emergency board meeting about anyway? Do you know?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m as curious as you are.” She couldn’t tell him about the plan to vote him out and put Don in charge. It had to be a total surprise if the management team had any chance of being successful. Joel was smart and not easily defeated. Awkward as she felt, Abigail was resolute in supporting the coup against Joel and salvaging Dave Mitchell International, otherwise DMI didn’t have a chance.

  “Something is up. I’m sure of it. Madeline must have something up her sleeve. My dear old stepmother refuses to give up.” Joel waved off the notion of her pulling off a strike against him. “She’s the least of my problems, not a threat. Although I’m sure it will be entertaining, whatever it is she has planned.”

  His disposition lightened as he spoke of Madeline, clearly not concerned about an attack from her. Abigail wasn’t sure his cavalier attitude was justified. Madeline was not one to be taken lightly. She hadn’t gotten over the chain of events, and felt that her children had been slighted again with favoritism going to Dave’s second wife, Sherry, and her only child. Madeline was determined to correct what she perceived to be a lapse in Dave’s judgment. For Joel to discount her was a lapse in his.

  “I have to run over to the library before the board meeting.” He took the phone out of his suit coat pocket and waved it in the air. “Call me when you change your mind about the merger.”

  She waved her phone in the air. “Call me when you change your mind about the marriage.”

  He smirked as only Joel could do and waved the phone again. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

  chapter

  3

  Adrenaline surged through his veins, threatening to explode. Don was woozy standing in the lobby. When he had landed in South Africa three years ago, he was determined never to set foot in DMI again, maybe Detroit, but definitely not in the doors of his father’s precious company. The twenty-two-hour flight to Detroit, with a brief stop in France, hadn’t settled his nerves. He was humbled, reflecting on the renewed faith God had given him. The compelling mix of purpose, forgiveness, and unconditional love brewed a powerful but delicate concoction. Against every fiber in his body, he was standing in the lobby. Any tension would threaten to knock the concoction out of balance and cause an eruption, driving him back to the sanctum of home, away from here.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked his sister.

  “I’m not sure, but I’m willing to do this for you,” she said, “so long as I don’t have to see Mother. I’m definitely not ready for a family reunion.”

  “She’d love to see you, Tamara, y
ou understand that.”

  “Maybe one day, but not today. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to sign my stock over to you and jump on the first flight back to Monte Carlo. I’d like to be home tomorrow morning.”

  Don shook his head in affirmation but refused to accept a response of no. They embraced, regrouped, and approached the security desk. “Don Mitchell and Tamara Mitchell are here to see Attorney Ryan.”

  “Of course, Mr. Mitchell, it’s good to see you,” the guard said. “You don’t have to sign in with us. Feel free to go right up.”

  “I don’t want to go upstairs,” Tamara said, frantically waving her hands. “I don’t want to run into Mother. I can’t.” Don gently pulled her away from the desk and off to the side. “One look at me and she’ll feel guilty about my rape. She’ll want to yank me back to seventeen and relive those days to fix what’s unfixable.”

  “You know Mother and how much she loves us. Sometimes she goes overboard, but she means well.”

  “I don’t deny that, but I can’t take the smothering. Those four years after the rape were the worst years of my life. I couldn’t breathe with Mother hovering. If I’d stayed here, I would have died, too. That’s why I’m on one continent and she’s on another. That works best for my sanity,” she said in rapid fire.

  “How much more time do you think you’ll need?”

  “Don’t know. I’m taking it a minute at a time. That’s the most I can handle,” she said, appearing to get agitated again. “Believe it or not, I live a full life over there. I’m pursuing my writing, my art, and my music. I’m a totally different person there, alive. In Michigan, I’m a dead bird waiting for the shameful vultures of the past to pick my bones. No thank you. I’m staying there.”

  Don appreciated her candor and resilience. She could have gotten lost in the darkness after being attacked in the safest place on earth, her home. He’d never forgotten waking up on Tamara’s twenty-first birthday with a panicked call from his mother telling him Tamara was gone. A note was the only link she’d left between them and her. She deserved time and distance to rebuild, but fourteen years was a long time. It had only taken Don three years to rebuild his life, but he certainly wasn’t going to stand in judgment because it was taking her much longer. Her reality wasn’t his. “Okay, okay, it’s all right,” he assured her. Don stepped back over to the guard desk. “Can you please call Attorney Ryan and ask him to meet us in the lobby?”