Destined

by Patricia Haley

  “I’m sorry to hear that. How can I help?”

  “Could you please help Zarah finish unpacking and get her something to eat? I have to make a few business calls,” he told the housekeeper. Speaking directly to Zarah, he said, “Then I can spend the rest of the afternoon with you.” Zarah put up zero resistance. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office.”

  By the time he walked the short distance to the stairs, he’d shifted to DMI mode. He really didn’t want Zarah to lose her father. He didn’t want any child to go through the crushing pain of losing a parent, but Musar was the key to his deliverance.

  Anxiously Joel dialed Uncle Frank. When his uncle was on the call, Joel said, “Looks like I’ll be able to repay the loan sooner than agreed. I’d like to work a deal.”

  “Shoot. I’ll listen to any offer, but that doesn’t mean I’m committed.”

  “I know we agreed to a ninety-day repayment window, but looks like I’ll have the money to pay the loan off in another week and reduce the interest.”

  “Really, what did you do, hit the lottery?”

  “Not quite. I’m not a risk taker. I go for the sure wins.”

  “Whatever works for you, but as far as the loan goes, that’s locked. Let’s just say the interest and collateral are the most compelling components of the loan. That’s where they make their money and wouldn’t be eager to give it up. Take my advice, stick with the terms, pay on time, and generate goodwill for the next loan.”

  “I won’t need a next loan. This is it for me. I don’t like having someone else control my affairs. I’m done with your investors.”

  “If you say so. I’ve heard that line many times. We’ll see, but in case you do need help down the road, know that your credit is good with me.”

  Joel was certain. Having one of the DMI divisions sitting as collateral on the loan didn’t raise his comfort level. Temporarily forfeiting ownership of the West Coast division to Musar was already a bear. Giving up a second division to Uncle Frank’s investors wasn’t acceptable. Joel was clinging to the notion of recouping the West Coast and reassembling the pieces of DMI. He knew his reign as CEO would be permanently stained if he didn’t restore the company.

  All of a sudden grief dipped into his soul, threatening to mount a full attack. He recalled the time, right before his father died, when he sat at his father’s bedside, listening intently as Dave Mitchell poured out nuggets of wisdom. “Don’t let the ministry get sold or split under any circumstances,” Dad commanded with the power in his voice he’d had before getting sick. “You have strength as a solid unit. Once you’re broken into pieces, there’s no recovery. I trust you, and I am holding you to this promise.” Joel shrugged in shame, reflecting on his promise. The words haunted him, the very same ones that once served as a source of profound encouragement. He was letting his father down, the one who had believed in him when no one else had, other than his mother. Nobody expected the “questionable” heir of Dave Mitchell to amount to much. His parents’ tainted marriage was supposed to be the stamp of failure on his life. That’s why he had to get the West Coast back, right away. He shoved grief away and homed in on what had to be done to restore DMI.

  There was compassion left but it had to get in line. Victory was within his grasp. He could practically reach out and grab it with the Harmonious Energy merger at the core. Now that Mr. Bengali would be passing away any day and leaving his money to Zarah, Joel was obligated to use the money to maintain their solvency. Joel claimed some dignity with the promise he’d made to Musar that Zarah would be well provided for. Joel intended to honor the agreement until the three-year, childless marriage came to an end. Three days down and two years, three hundred and sixty-two days left. He could endure. Envisioning the money being wired back to Uncle Frank was his motivation.

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  45

  Madeline didn’t catch the original story on the news last night. Since it was played repeatedly on every network, she had no choice but to witness Joel’s mockery of a marriage and the merger early this morning before coming to the office. The child had lost his mind. Madeline went from one window to the other, thinking, forgetting, remembering. Joel had finally flooded the place with irreparable mismanagement. Beyond his nuptials, who was he to sell off a piece of her company? She tried to clear her mind and concentrate on where she’d gone wrong. Had there been missed opportunities to end this farce? Maybe she’d let up at times when she should have gone at him with no mercy. She continued pacing with her arms crossed.

  She wanted him to go away, to vanish, poof, gone, but he wasn’t budging, not now. He’d beaten the entire leadership team and secretly pulled off the merger with Harmonious Energy. Madeline cringed. She stopped at the middle window and braced her hands on her hips. He was too stupid to realize how devastated DMI was going to be as a result of his reckless actions. Her anger fumed as she thought about his selfish act of personal gratification. Joel couldn’t care less about DMI. Reason and perhaps self-preservation shouted for her to pack up and get out. Her sense of entitlement shouted louder for her to stay and fight. This was her children’s birthright, not the snot-nosed kid’s. Madeline snatched her Mont Blanc pen and portfolio from the desk and headed to the boardroom. This wasn’t over. She’d grab Abigail.

  Two hours flat and Madeline had exercised her waning power. The group was gathered for an emergency board meeting, some in presence, others chattering on the phone. The key decision maker was absent, fortunately. He was off honeymooning or busy shoving the company off a cliff, at least the divisions he hadn’t yet sold.

  “Attention, attention,” Madeline said, standing, bent on getting the meeting started. The room quieted and Madeline seized control. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news about Mr. Joel Mitchell.”

  “How could we not,” one board member said. “The network and local news stations have shown the airport footage over and over.”

  Abigail was out of the office. She’d taken the last couple of days off. Don, too.

  “This is a media nightmare. We know nothing about the new Mrs. Mitchell,” one member said.

  “His marriage is the least of our concerns. I’m worried about how we’re going to deal with the divestiture of the West Coast division?” The chatter simmered. “What about the employees?” Madeline said, falling into one of the chairs.

  “And the company’s private information?” someone added.

  This was a mess. Madeline didn’t feel like cleaning up Joel’s irresponsible waste, but the choice wasn’t hers. When she stood with Dave Mitchell and opened the doors to the public for the first time, she was hooked for life.

  “Will the name change?” someone asked.

  “Depends on who bought whom. If DMI bought Harmonious Energy then probably not, but if it’s the other way around, the name probably will change,” someone said.

  “Ha, I’d like to see Joel try that one,” Madeline said.

  “He’s gone this far without our approval. What would stop him from changing the name?” someone said.

  Madeline was too blinded by outrage to address the name change issue. She opted to stay on the more important merger topic. “I can’t fold any aspect of Harmonious Energy into the East Coast if I have any hopes of holding on to the remaining churches that we’re servicing. I’m telling you, mixing different religious practices under the same roof isn’t going to work, but we can’t seem to talk sense into Joel.” Madeline let her gaze rest on the table. She needed help but the group wasn’t motivated to action. It was understandable. They might lose an advisory board title, but Madeline had much more at stake.

  “What do you suggest we do?” someone asked.

  “I’m going to light a match under the legal team to see if we can undo what Joel has done.”

  “Isn’t it too late? The merger is done.”

  “It’s never too late. We’re approaching desperation. No alternatives will be discounted before proper consideration.” When the words left her mouth, Tamara ente
red her conscience, the most logical solution. Nobody was going to push Madeline around without a bloody duel. She was recharged, no thanks to the other board members. Joel had to go, kicked out as soon as her foot could align with his backside. She pondered the notion, almost smirking. “I have to leave, excuse me,” she said, hustling from the office and ignoring questions about whether she was returning.

  She’d leave the easy stuff to the chatterers. Her time had to be spent on making a difference. Her legs weren’t moving fast enough. She’d get back to her office and call Don. “No” wasn’t a possibility. That word couldn’t rest on his lips. Her son had to go and get Tamara, tying her up and lugging her to DMI if necessary. It was Tamara’s legacy at risk, too. Maybe not right away, but one day she would have a family of her own and want the proceeds from her share of the estate. Madeline could keep it protected until that day came, determined to never let the hope of her daughter’s return grow cold.

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  46

  Don was finally able to get his mother off the phone. She was roused by Joel, understandably. He went behind the board and made a deal of his own. Joel was out of order. Don agreed with Madeline in theory, but not with her tactics.

  She was adamant about him contacting Tamara. Ownership of her stock had always been the instant resolution to the DMI problem. The fight would be over with the stroke of a pen. Confusion tried to sneak in. The notion of scheming like his mother was nauseating. If God was in the plan, and this truly was his destiny, no plotting and posturing was necessary. He searched his spirit. The only question to answer was if he was comfortable calling Tamara. He dropped to his knees and prayed, more fervently than he had in months, for direction and clarity. When he finished, Tamara was still roaming around his thoughts, but there was a peace that followed. By faith he accepted it as a confirmation from God. If he was wrong, by faith, God would fix it for him since he was stepping out in sincerity. He dialed the number before giving doubt and confusion time to rush in. A series of rapid rings and his sister was on the phone. “Good, I’m glad that I got you.”

  “Hello, little brother, please tell me that Mother isn’t with you?”

  “She’s not, but that is why I’m calling.”

  “Why, is she okay?” Tamara asked in an elevated pitch.

  “You know how she is. Mother is Mother.”

  “But she’s okay,” Tamara said with her voice mellowing to her normal level.

  “I’m glad to see that you’re concerned. She’ll be glad to hear that.”

  “Don’t get her worked up because that will be a sure path to my having to move, again,” she said, “and honestly, I’m tired of that. I’m thirty-five. I told you before, I want to be settled.”

  “Tamara, it doesn’t matter how many times you move or where you go on this earth, you will never have peace until you come home and face your demons. I’m not telling you to do anything that I haven’t done.” The company was at the forefront of his appeal. “Plus, I need you at DMI with me. I need your stock, sis.” Tamara didn’t respond but he could hear her breathing. The request was huge, one that he had to ask despite her fears. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t seriously important. I need your help. I need you here and you need to be here.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  He wasn’t prepared for her response. “Does that mean you’re considering coming home?”

  “Maybe, but there’s only one way that I could even fathom the idea.”

  “What? Name it.”

  “I couldn’t be there with Mother. She’d have to leave me alone.”

  He chuckled. “There’s only one way that would happen—she’d have to be on the other side of the planet in a remote location with no airstrip or phone lines.” He chuckled more.

  “I mean it, she will have to leave.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “If you want me back at DMI with my stock, Mother has to resign and give me a year to establish myself. Those are my terms.”

  “You really are Madeline Mitchell’s child.”

  “I want to help you but I have to take care of me, too,” she said.

  “But she’s never harmed you. Why do you want to punish her?”

  “Being around her is a constant reminder of what it’s taken me over a decade to forget. Instead of letting me exist on my terms, she will overwhelm me and I couldn’t survive the smothering.”

  “Your terms are much more extreme than my original request.” The company could be theirs with Tamara on his side. “I’ll have to talk with Mother. This is no small feat. It will take some doing to get her to agree on this one. You understand the position you’re putting me in, sis.”

  “Do you understand the situation you’re putting me in? Those have to be my terms. It’s the only way I’ll set foot in Detroit again,” she told him. He listened, not wanting to overcommit. “I’m willing to help you. I’m sure you don’t know how much your random calls helped me get past many tough moments, little brother. I owe you, and I want to help, but you have to help me, too.”

  “Come on, sis, what you’re asking is equivalent to parting the Red Sea.”

  “Perhaps, but that’s what it’s going to take.”

  Joel hadn’t left too many alternatives. Don resigned himself to the fact that if this was to be, a power more substantial than his was required to keep Madeline on one side of the world and Tamara on the other. No other force on earth could.

  chapter

  47

  Abigail sat in her office. News of Joel’s nuptials hadn’t settled, probably never would. She mentally replayed the footage of the couple being accosted at the airport. Joel had told her months ago about the marriage, but hearing him talk about the concept was a gigantic departure from actually saying “I do.” Her hope of a relationship was finished; friendship, too. “Can you believe Joel really did it?” she asked Don.

  Don sighed, sitting at the small conference table, peering into his laptop screen. “Joel’s actions haven’t startled me in quite a while.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Hours of pondering couldn’t paint a rational picture of Joel’s decisions. “I feel kind of sorry for him.”

  Don shifted his gaze from the laptop to her. “Why is that?”

  Joel wasn’t her love. He wasn’t even a close friend any longer, but he was a decent guy who deserved her compassion. “He’s jeopardizing so much because he doesn’t want to take anyone’s advice.”

  “He believes he has the answers. He had so much success early on,” Don commented.

  “That’s when his morals mattered and his spirituality meant something.” Abigail knew God had been an important ingredient in Joel’s success back when he willingly acknowledged a power greater than his own limited abilities. Joel was blinded by his own goals, and no one could influence him at this junction.

  “Maybe you should talk to him. I mean, you were pretty close,” he said, letting his gaze drop to the laptop. “You never know, he might listen to you.”

  “Been there, done that,” she said, slapping the file onto her desk and pulling it around the perimeter as she scooted to her seat. “We were close at one time, or at least I thought so, but those days have passed.” She plopped into her swivel, high-back chair. She opened the file. “Thank goodness our friendship wasn’t damaged in this mess.”

  Don snickered. “Well,” he said, closing the laptop, “you did toss me to the curb when I first left for South Africa.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is, but it’s cool. I understand. You and Joel were an item then,” he reminded her.

  At least she thought they were. “What can I say, I was wrong.” It wasn’t the first time she’d been mistaken. Her days were seasoned with a scoop of reality, unhindered by raw passion. Sharing the moment with Don was the affirmation of hope and redemption. She couldn’t fix Joel’s predicament and was no longer trying. Joel and his moral compass were resigned to dealing with the circus he had crafted. She
was off the roller coaster with him and seeking a less risky, more stable ride. There was an easiness to being around Don, but he was also Joel’s brother. Her feelings were scattered. Watching the brothers dueling over DMI was more than she wanted to see. She didn’t have it in her to raise another element of tension between them. “Remember when we worked on the East Coast megaproject?”

  “Of course I do,” he said, relaxing. “You were so green six years ago. That was the first project where I let you take the lead.”

  Abigail was tickled that he hadn’t forgotten her first big professional success. “I’m glad you’re here,” she told Don, fighting confusion and vulnerability. She would keep her feelings tightly guarded even though their connection hadn’t diminished. “It’s like you never left.”

  But he had left, and for good reason. Forgiveness and God healing his wounded soul had saved him. There was zero interest in returning to a state of romantic chaos and despair. His livelihood was in check because he’d gotten out of the toxic environment just in time. Naledi was an integral part of his refreshened perspective. His heart warmed as he thought of her. She gave him the audacity to dream again, to think about building a family, to both give love and to have it freely reciprocated. They hadn’t spoken romantically, not directly, but there were sufficient feelings to consider the possibility. But he couldn’t deny the tingling fragments of affection for Abigail. Those feelings were mostly buried alive in South Africa along with the grief, heartache, resentment, and disappointments that had so easily weighed him down. They weren’t easily resurrected without carting along a weary spirit, a traveling buddy he wanted to forget.

  chapter

  48