Humbled (11 page)

Joel was grateful to have stumbled upon a small park in the western suburbs of Detroit. He rested on a bench, soaking in the filtered sunlight, not needing his sunglasses. The chilly air was a reminder that the sunny days were fleeting and winter wasn't far off.

It didn't take long for him to realize the gravity of his situation as he sat in that remote park. Confusion and craziness abounded and seemed to be hunting Joel down daily. He stared at the captivating woman gracing the article in the center of the Detroit magazine and wondered what other shocking revelation was waiting to trip him up. He was accustomed to seeing Zarah dressed in Indian garb, but her clothes seemed fancier than normal. He wondered if it was the photographer's lighting or if maybe she'd been touched up. There was plenty to speculate about, and Joel wondered if what he was glimpsing in Zarah had always existed. Perhaps seeing Zarah in their home every day had clouded her radiance. The glow in her eyes slapped him in the face. He found it difficult to stare at the picture and acknowledge that this was his wife, the woman from whom he was estranged. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

Fifteen minutes passed as he devoured the article, which was entitled “S
PICING
U
P THE
M
OTOR
C
ITY
.” Joel savored each word, particularly the paragraphs about her goals. She wanted to grow the company so that it had a place of dominance in its market sector. Where did that come from he wondered. The reporter had asked what qualified her to run a multimillion-dollar company. Joel was intrigued as he read her answer. He'd never seen her express any interest in business. As a matter of fact, she seemed to avoid business-related topics as much as possible. He was learning several new and intriguing tidbits about her. The article was interesting, and he wanted to keep reading.

He was disappointed that this side of Zarah hadn't surfaced when they were living together. She'd elected to show him the demure, maternal side, which didn't make him feel exhilarated. But this woman in the article was a different person, someone he wanted to know. She was someone he could do business with. She wasn't the Zarah Mitchell he'd married. He returned his focus to the article, determined to learn more about this version of her.

“We understand that you own a division of DMI, a well-known Detroit-based company. What are your plans for the division?”
the article read
. “I do own the division, but I have not come to a final decision about the future. There are many options for me with the division. The success of this company is most important to me. This is my father's company, and as his only child, it is my duty to do good work and have his blessings. I must take time to put together a very good plan.”

Joel laid the magazine down on the bench and scratched his head. Where was this coming from? When they were living together, she didn't engage in any business conversations with him. He had figured she was just a shy, pretty girl whose primary goal was to be a wife and mother. Both jobs were important, but at his age, he yearned for more in a mate. He rapped his knuckles on the magazine but didn't open it again. In a million years he wouldn't have guessed she had this in her.

He sat quietly reflecting on the article and his marriage. An equal blend of doubt, about the West Coast division mixed with his interest in the woman featured in the article created an indescribable anxiety. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Joel leapt to his feet. He would pay Zarah a visit, hoping to get the West Coast division from her and to use it as a pawn to get back into DMI. He'd check on the pregnancy too. Zarah deserved his support, and he aimed to give it freely for the baby.

Joel walked briskly to the car, feeling quite motivated. His future could be taking a turn for the better. He yearned to return to DMI, and Zarah might be the ticket. He'd soon see.

Joel called the house and learned that Zarah was out. Determined to make contact with her, he called her on the cell phone, and she picked up.

“Zarah, are you available to meet with me?” he said without asking her where she was.

“Yes, I am,” she said.

He was glad Zarah had answered right away. He wasn't able to tell from the tone of her voice how she was feeling about their last encounter, but maybe the fact that she had picked up the phone was a positive sign. “I know you're not at the house, but I can meet you somewhere else if it's easier.”

“I am at a café downtown,” she replied.

Venturing out to quaint spots in the city wasn't something the Zarah he knew would do. She was acting more and more like a person he didn't know but wanted to.

“It will take me about forty minutes to get there. Can you wait for me?” He heard voices in the background. There was a series of thumps, and he wondered if she'd dropped or fumbled the phone. “Zarah, are you there?”

“Yes, I am here. I will wait for you.”

She gave him the address, and Joel punched the gas pedal. His sudden burst of curiosity was undeniable. He was actually excited to see Zarah, the new one. His anticipation made him press the gas pedal harder, and the forty-minute drive flew by. Joel double-checked the address and peered up and down the street until the café sign was in sight. He found a parking garage with an attendant a half block away and left his Range Rover, the vehicle he drove mostly around town. As he hurried to the café, he paused to straighten his shirt.

Joel entered the café and placed his sunglasses on top of his head as he searched the room for Zarah. She was dressed in her Indian outfit, so it didn't take him long to spot her. He shuffled to the corner and stopped in his tracks. There was Tamara, someone he was not prepared to see. The enthusiasm that had propelled him to the café waned suddenly.

He went to Zarah. She was more radiant than ever. Her long dark hair cascaded along her shoulders, accentuating her olive-colored skin and captivating dark-colored eyes. There was an energy about her that he couldn't deny. She stood, and they embraced briefly. He wanted to ignore Tamara and focus purely on Zarah.

“Hello, little brother,” Tamara said, causing him to shriek inside, but he kept his cool.

He slid into the booth, next to Zarah, and placed his sunglasses on the table.

“Hello, ladies,” he said, searching for words that wouldn't get Zarah or Tamara riled up. His last encounter with both of them had gone very poorly. He didn't want a repeat, but Tamara's mouth was usually an automatic spark for trouble. He'd try to avoid any conflict for Zarah's sake. She was the reason he was there.

“So what have you been up to, Mr. Joel?” Tamara asked.

“Keeping busy doing a little of this and a little of that.” He grinned to hide his irritation with her presence at the table. She'd already crossed the line of respect by calling him in Chicago to discuss his marriage. Maybe she'd leave and then he could talk freely to Zarah.

Tamara wasn't easily fooled by Joel, but she knew Zarah was. His calling and showing up once a week had to be demoralizing. One flattering word and Zarah would succumb to Joel's whims. Tamara didn't want Joel sniffing around and possibly realizing how vulnerable his wife was. As a devoted friend, Tamara believed it was her job to make sure Zarah was impervious to Joel's tricks. Her defense mechanisms were in high gear. Every word crawling out of his mouth was going to be scrutinized. Zarah had come too far out of her shell to let a hug from a so-called husband derail her progress. Tamara had too much invested and too much to lose to let them reunite. Joel had to be stopped, and Tamara decided she was the perfect person to do it. She stirred her latte, ready to jump into battle.

“Why did you want to see Zarah?” she asked.

Joel chuckled and fumbled with his sunglasses before answering. He leaned back in the booth, put his arm around Zarah, and stared Tamara down. “I can see my wife whenever I want to,” he said with a smug tone.

Tamara wanted to reach across the table and stuff a scone down his throat. She didn't necessarily want to hurt Joel, just shut him up.

“What's it to you?” he asked when Tamara was silent.

“She's my friend, and I look out for her.”

“Wonderful. I'm glad she has a friend,” he said, wrapping his arm tighter around Zarah. “But she has a husband too.”

The waitress approached the table. “Can I get anyone anything?”

“No,” Tamara said, so harshly that she had to apologize.

“I'll take a double espresso,” Joel said, then turned to Zarah. “Would you like something else?” he asked.

She told him no, but the question alone infuriated Tamara. His soft words and icy heart weren't fooling her. “Zarah, did you want to walk through the company's staffing plan later this evening or tomorrow?” Tamara asked, wishing Joel would get bored and exit.

He turned to Zarah again. “I was wondering if we could go to dinner later.”

Tamara saw the delight in Zarah's reaction. She smiled, drew herself closer to Joel, and had a giddy look on her face. Tamara had to work fast to save the fawn from the poacher's trap. “Didn't you want to meet with Don and the board of directors as soon as possible with your purchase offer?”

Zarah nodded. “Yes.”

“Then you'll want to keep plowing through these documents,” Tamara advised. “I can stay as long as you'd like, because there's a lot of work ahead of us.”

“If you need help, I'm here,” Joel offered.

“Thank you,” Zarah said, sounding as if she was going to melt in Joel's presence.

Tamara cringed.

Zarah excused herself from the group and went to the restroom, which gave Tamara the ideal opportunity to get Joel out of there.

“She doesn't need your help,” Tamara snapped.

“I don't get it. What's with you?”

“That's a loaded question,” she stated.

“I don't think so. It's very simple, if you ask me. You're the friend, or whatever,” he said, pointing at her, “and I'm the husband.”

The waitress eased Joel's cup onto the table without disrupting the conversation. With the way it was heating up, Tamara figured someone should break up the sparing match. Mitchell against Mitchell was most likely going to be a fight to the death. In their family, backing down wasn't plausible if one wanted to survive among the wolves.

“How funny is this? You're
boasting
about being her husband?” Tamara was agitated beyond reason. “You, the same man who shows up once in a while to see how your pregnant wife is doing? Pu-lease! Why don't you crawl back under a rock and leave Zarah alone? She's finally getting a life, without you,” she told him.

“Listen up. News flash,” Joel snarled. “She's still my wife, and she's carrying my baby. Like it or not, I will always have a connection with Zarah. Can you say the same thing,
friend?
”

Zarah returned to the table as the flames of agitation resonated. Joel rose and let his wife slide into the booth next to him.

“Zarah, can I speak with you privately?” he said, not looking in Tamara's direction.

“Don't fall for his games, Zarah. Stand up for yourself. You don't need him.” Tamara noticed a few stares coming from around the café. She consciously lowered her voice, wanting to get her point across without making a public scene. She was mad but not crazy.

“Tamara, it's okay,” Zarah interjected. “I want to speak with Joel.”

“You don't have to give in to his whims. You can say no and let him walk away,” Tamara told her.

“You heard my wife. We're going to talk,” he said. “Without you.” Joel waved to her. “See you around, Ms. Mitchell.”

His glibness threatened to send Tamara over the edge, but she refused to have a shouting match in the café. She had to give him this round, confident more would follow. Tamara gathered her belongings in haste. She couldn't wait to get outside and scream to vent her frustration. Being around Joel and enduring his infantile tactics was too much. But before walking out, she'd give him one final jab.

Tamara leaned in so close to his ear, she was absolutely certain Zarah wouldn't hear her. “I'm watching you, my brother. Know that I'm not Zarah. You can't fool me with this lovey-dovey talk all of a sudden. You're a snake, and it's just a matter of time before my foot crushes your head.” She pulled back and grinned.

Joel reciprocated with a grin. “Good-bye. Have a nice afternoon” he said pausing and then added, “alone.”

She dug deep to avoid lashing out in retaliation. “I'll call you later,” she told Zarah.

“Yes, we will speak soon. Thank you for helping me.”

“You're welcome,” Tamara said and reluctantly left the café as her fear that her efforts would be erased rapidly escalated.

Joel relaxed as he watched Tamara walk out the door. Finally, he could talk with Zarah without fighting with his sister. His newfound interest in Zarah had diminished slightly due to Tamara's involvement in Zarah's affairs, but it was nothing major. What had been lost could be rekindled if she kept intriguing him as she'd done thus far. He slid to the edge of the seat in order to absorb her presence. Her beauty shouldn't be a surprise to him, yet it was.

“I'm glad you agreed to meet with me alone.”

She nodded, and that was the extent of her reply. This was the point where she would normally become giddy. She didn't, and that caught him off guard and forced him to steer the conversation.

“I guess you and Tamara were working on Harmonious Energy business.”

“We were doing quite a lot for a meeting I must have next Thursday with Don and the DMI directors.”

He was uneasy talking about DMI. When Joel had stepped down a few months ago, he'd also resigned from his spot on the board of directors. At the time, his decision had seemed right. In hindsight it was a mistake. Being on the fringes of DMI action was equivalent to having a knife stuck in his chest. Every time he heard what was happening at the company without his involvement, it was as if the knife was given a sharp twist. The pain was brutal, and Joel wasn't sure how much longer he could stay away. Zarah had to let him take over the West Coast division. It was the only leverage he could use to get a foot in the door at DMI. His desperation began turning into despair. He'd have to be careful. Mistakes and poor choices were often made under duress. He knew that too well. He'd move on to a less volatile subject until his composure was intact and business matters didn't cause him angst.

“How are you doing with the pregnancy?”

Her cheeks glowed, and her countenance softened. He'd made the right decision in changing the subject.

“The doctor says I'm doing well,” she said, patting her stomach. “I want to be a good mother.”

“And you will be.” He had no doubt. “But how are you going to run a company and take care of a new baby?”

“I'm not sure, but I will. I must,” she said, not sounding as sure.

This was the break he needed to offer his services. “I'm here if you need help with the company. You can take care of the baby, and I can take care of the company. We could be a great team.”

She didn't answer.

The silence was discouraging, and he felt forced to break it. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I can't let you run the company,” she told him.

“Why not?”

“It is my destiny to run my father's company. I must prove to you and to my father's memory that I'm able to do well with the company. I must do this.”

Joel actually understood, and he respected her position, but hated that she had to grow a professional backbone at the precise time when he needed her to lose interest. Oddly, his passion was ignited when he heard her take a stand and set goals. She was fueling his passion to a level that he could not readily overlook. He scooted closer to her. Usually, marriage wasn't in his thoughts. Zarah was changing that scenario. He scooted even closer. There wasn't much distance between them until she pulled away.

He refused to let her get too far away. He was on the verge of thinking about coming home, but then his dignity kicked in. He was desperate for a job and drawn to her intimately, but he wasn't going to use the baby as a pawn. If he returned to Zarah and the marriage, it would be based on his feelings and a commitment to the relationship. The baby didn't need to bear the brunt of a trying and complex relationship, the way he'd had to do as a child. Zarah was supposed to be the solution to his problems, but it seemed as though this door was closed to him. He'd have to find another way to get his hands on the West Coast division, one that wouldn't carry the stench of guilt for taking advantage of a woman who loved him. He'd find another way. He had to.

Joel and Zarah chatted for over an hour. Other than her frequent trips to the restroom, nothing interrupted them. They'd never talked as freely, as engagingly. Who was this woman sitting next to him? She wasn't the meek person whose father had presented her for marriage.

“Have you been sticking with Indian food, or do you venture out?” he asked. When Zarah came to the States, she had difficulty eating American dishes. For several months he took her to the same group of Indian restaurants. She tried to be accommodating by eating basic American dishes, but it didn't work.

“I have found many new foods I like. There are thousands of places to eat. I'm sure there will be many more foods to my liking.”

When they were together, she'd go out to eat infrequently. He hadn't been gone this long for her to make this many changes. Yet he had to admit they'd been separated for most of the marriage. He was either at the office or in Chicago, while she stayed at home and hibernated. Her willingness to get out of the house and enjoy the area heightened her appeal. An edgy, risk-taking woman who appreciated fun was his kind of person. He'd never before viewed her in terms of liking and loving. Peering at her as they sat in the most remote corner of the quaint café, he decided that he should rethink his position.

“I meant what I said about taking you to dinner tonight.”

“I'm not sure,” she said, looking away.

He followed her gaze, not wanting to lose the connection that was igniting his soul.

“Excuse me, but I am feeling tired. I should go home and rest before dinner,” Zarah said.

“Sure, of course,” Joel said.

“I have to call the car service.”

“Oh no,” he said. “Please let me take you home.”

“I don't want to be any trouble.”

“I want to take you,” he said, lightly tapping his chest. Joel wanted to prolong their interaction any way he could.

The ride home was uneventful, a definite improvement from the drama and trauma he'd experienced over the past three weeks. Simple was refreshing, soothing. He dropped her off, giving her a peck on the cheek, and eased out of the driveway, more confused about their relationship than he had been before seeing Zarah. A feeling of emptiness fell over him. The ride to the hotel was arduous, as the tranquility he'd experienced at the café was a mirage, disappearing with each mile he traveled. Despair took hold when he acknowledged that the chances of his business venture getting off the ground were fading. What he was going to do next still had to be determined.

Joel continued reflecting. Finally, at the end of the road, he had no other choice but to pray for guidance. He had toyed with seeking God again. He'd specifically prayed about his marriage and a business opportunity nearly a month ago, when he first got news Zarah was pregnant. God wasn't moving too quickly. Instead of waiting, Joel had opted to take another route. Unfortunately, he'd run into one dead end after another.

He pulled the SUV up to the curb and killed the purring engine a few blocks from the hotel. Joel gripped the leather steering wheel tightly. The words didn't flow as they once had when he addressed God. He was rusty but desperate. “God, I need your help. I can't seem to pull it together. I need you to tell me what to do.” He stayed in the vehicle, expecting an answer in return, but in his heart, Joel knew God didn't work that way. Early in his career at DMI, he'd learned to conform his will to God's leading. That was when he'd realized unimaginable success. Somehow his perspective had turned in the complete opposite direction. Somewhere along the way his impatience had taken control and forced him to take action in those instances when God wasn't speaking quickly enough. His results hadn't been good, but he was too far down the path to change overnight.

Waiting and listening weren't feats he performed well. He sat in the car a while longer, hearing and sensing nothing from God, experiencing no rush of peace or flood of wisdom. He'd prayed, and there wasn't a change. The lingering tidbits of hope he'd retained enabled him to cling to the notion that God was giving him a second chance no matter how badly his situation appeared. He couldn't wait indefinitely, though. While God's plan was materializing, Joel decided to keep busy in the interim. He was going to create his own opportunity and forget about the West Coast division, which Zarah was controlling. He was going after the Southern division, the slice of DMI he'd sold to a group of shady investors during his downhill slide.

Joel pulled out his phone to dial his uncle Frank to set up a meeting. His father's brother was in the business of orchestrating unconventional loans and deals.
Heaven help me,
Joel thought. Dealing with Frank Mitchell was truly the last resort and a low point in his route to restoration. He stomped out the negative thoughts, choosing to stay upbeat, although it was an oxymoron when used in the same sentence as “Uncle Frank.” Briefly, he reconsidered initiating contact with his uncle but decided to proceed. No one else was giving him a chance, not the long list of investors in Chicago, not Don at DMI, not Abigail, not his wife, and not even God. He winced. He'd tried the right way to get on track, but failure had lined his path. Now it was time to get results the only other way he knew how—by any means necessary. He made the call, feeling charged up and ready to go.