Humbled (4 page)

Tamara was fuming. She wanted to be mad at Zarah but didn't think it was fair to penalize her for being loyal and in love. Joel was the culprit. Too bad Zarah's dedication was wasted on him. Tamara's anger had intensified, and she was determined not to extend him the same grace. Who did Mr. Joel think he was? He'd moved his wife thousands of miles from her family, only to abandon her when she was pregnant. The more Tamara wrestled with his behavior and his flagrant womanizing ways, the less she was willing to let him get away without retribution. Obviously, Zarah wasn't going to speak up. Victims didn't. Tamara grabbed the phone. She would handle this.

After contacting Don to get Joel's number, Tamara eagerly made the call. Joel answered more quickly than she had expected. She hadn't quite figured out exactly what to say.

“Who is this?” Joel asked as she held the phone without responding. “Hello?” he said.

Forget about semantics,
she thought. She was diving in. “Why are you being such a jerk to your wife?”

Joel chuckled. “And who is this?”

Her resolve was gaining momentum, and she was certain the words would flow freely. “Tamara.”

“Okay, Ms. Tamara. This is a surprise. I wasn't expecting a call from you about my wife.”

“Somebody had to call,” she said, enunciating the words heavily. “You are a trip, leaving Zarah in Detroit alone when you know she's pregnant.”

“Excuse me for one minute,” Joel told her. She could hear his muffled voice as he spoke to someone else before he returned to the call. “Now, what are you going on about?” he asked.

“How can you leave your wife alone? She's pregnant, scared, and you are so insensitive that you can't come and check on her. What kind of a man are you?”

“Tamara, I don't see how this is your business. How did you get my phone number, anyway?”

“It wasn't difficult to get. We do know a few of the same people,” she said, not feeling obligated to be cordial.

“Whatever. Like you said, this is between me and my wife. I'll take care of my business, and you handle yours.”

His words resonated. She could back off and probably should have, but letting him off the hook wasn't sitting well with her. He was treating Zarah despicably. Zarah had said she was going to stand up to Joel, but Tamara didn't believe her. Unless she intervened, Joel was bound to get away with treating women as if they were disposable. No more.

The words came from deep within Tamara's soul, exploding by the time they reached her lips. “Who the heck do you think you are? You're a loser who has to pump up his manhood by walking over women.” Tamara stood and shook her finger in the air, although Joel couldn't see it. “Look, buster, you've picked the wrong person to mess with, okay. Your women might fall for your crap, but I won't.”

“Where is this coming from? You don't know me well enough to say anything about my marriage or any other woman in my life. You have some nerve.”

Tamara felt herself overheating. Images of her eldest brother's brutal attack dashed into her mind, followed by memories of her ex-boyfriend's relentless stalking. She had to press those thoughts down in order to maintain control. She didn't intend on making Joel pay for every man's infractions. He deserved a thorough lashing, but only what belonged to him. So, she restrained herself just a little. “Since Zarah won't speak up, I'm doing it for her.”

“What are you? Her new best friend?”

Tamara rested her hand on her forearm. “You could say that.”

“I see,” Joel said.

His cavalier response infuriated Tamara more. “You know, you don't deserve a wife or a child. You are too selfish and narcissistic. Why don't you do us a favor and keep your behind in Chicago, where you belong?”

“Tamara, I'm not going to discuss my marriage with you. This call is over. Take care of yourself, and maybe I'll see you in Detroit.” He disconnected the call, leaving Tamara lingering on the line. Her anger cooled. Perhaps it wasn't her place to call him about Zarah. Then again, why not? Tamara set her phone on the table without regret.

Joel held the phone in his hand, staring into the room.

“Are you all right?” Sheba asked.

He rubbed his head. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You sure?” she said, her voice elevated out of concern.

“I don't know.” He sighed. “That was Tamara Mitchell.”

“Your sister?” Sheba sputtered.

“Right, my sister, or better put, Madeline's daughter.” He rested the phone on his lap and used both hands to rub his head. “Madeline's children never considered me a brother. We might share the same Mitchell bloodline, but there's no love between us,” he said, actually kind of disappointed.

“I didn't realize the two of you talked.”

He gazed at her and roared, “We don't. She was calling to chew me out about not supporting Zarah during the pregnancy.”

Sheba's eyebrows arched. “I see,” she said. “I can tell that was awkward.”

Joel lay back on the seat and pulled Sheba with him. He swiped his fingertips across his forehead. “It was, but you know, she has a point.” Sheba rested her head on his shoulder. “I don't like Tamara calling me and barking out orders, but I respect her boldness.” He wrapped his arm around Sheba. “There's something to be said about a woman who speaks her mind. Tamara is rough around the edges and, apparently, doesn't respect boundaries. She's definitely Madeline's daughter. Whew, for sure. My goodness; I feel sorry for Don, having to deal with both of them at DMI. Now, there's a job I wouldn't want,” he said, finding the idea humorous.

Sheba patted his chest. “I'm glad she didn't upset you.”

“Nah, I'm not upset. Confused, yes, but not upset. Maybe this is God's way of pushing me toward I-94 sooner rather than later. I guess it's time to go home,” he said. “Heaven help me.”

If it wasn't Joel wearing on her nerves, it was Madeline. Tamara traipsed through the DMI lobby and took the elevator upstairs. With each step she second-guessed her decision about coming to the building. Her mother had called a few hours ago, before eight o'clock, and had asked Tamara to stop by. There had been a sense of urgency in the request, which made Tamara nervous. The last time they'd spoken, Madeline was being Madeline, trying to shove her plans down Tamara's throat. The impending tension blanketed Tamara, causing her to shiver upon exiting the elevator. Instinct said to turn around, press the ground level button, and get out of there while she had a chance. Tamara stood out in the open, completely vulnerable. Against her better judgment, she entered her mother's office, sure this was leading to doom.

“I see you made it,” Madeline said, sitting at her desk. Don was in the office too.

“Oh my, the two of you together is probably not good for me. Is this an intervention?” Tamara asked, flinging her jacket and purse over the back of a guest chair located in front of the desk.

Don gave her a hug. Madeline was poised to give her one too, but Tamara dodged the gesture by tossing an air kiss in her mother's direction. It wasn't that Tamara had a problem with receiving affection from her mother. In this case, Tamara was determined to maintain her resolve and not let Madeline wear her down with words and gestures before getting out what she had to say. Her feeling of being in the wrong place was still there.

Madeline rushed over to Tamara and hugged her tightly. “Girl, get over here. The days of blowing me a kiss are long gone. You were gone far too long. I have a lot of years to make up, which means I'm going to hug my daughter every chance I get,” she said, tightening her embrace. “You might as well get used to it.”

What had made Tamara think her mother was going to let her slip into a chair at the conference table without incident? Tamara had to finally force herself free from the extended hug.

“Let's meet at the table,” Madeline said. Don joined them.

“Okay Mother, let's cut out the small talk. Why did you summon me?”

“Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?” Madeline asked.

“No,” Tamara said, plopping into the seat clearly outnumbered. Don wasn't saying much, but he was there.

“What about tea?”

“No, Mother!” Tamara shouted. Quickly, she took a deep breath and harnessed her irritation. “I want you to tell me what is so important. Why did you want me to come in this early on a Friday morning?”

“All right, forgive me for being hospitable. My goodness, what's gotten into you? A little decorum from you would be nice. Common courtesies are still fashionable, my dear.”

“Okay, ladies, let's take a break before this goes in the wrong direction,” Don interjected. Right on cue, her brother was the consummate mediator. Thanks to the Mitchell family dynamics, he got plenty of practice in the role.

“I have a busy day ahead of me,” Tamara said, which wasn't true, but she had to find some reason to cut this mini reunion short. Being around Madeline was a death wish. She had to get out. “I only have a few minutes to spare.”

“Then let's get to the point. We need you here at DMI.”

“Mother,” Tamara said with a sharp edge.

“Wait. Hear me out,” Madeline said, reaching over and caressing Tamara's arm. “Between the two of us, Don and I can maintain our family's presence in this place, but it's just not right unless you're going to be here too. Frankly, I don't want to run DMI with anyone other than you and Don. This is as much your company as it is ours. Besides, Abigail has resigned from her executive vice president position and is leaving in a few months, which will make our senior management team too lean.”

“Good for her if she's really leaving,” Tamara said, envying the freedom that Abigail would have once she left the Mitchell compound called DMI. But it was shocking that Abigail was actually leaving after being with DMI for more than eight years, having been hired as an assistant to Dave Mitchell after graduating from business school. From what Tamara could gather, Abigail had been loyal to the Mitchell patriarch, then to Joel, and now to Don. Apparently, Abigail's loyalty hadn't bought her any perks when it came to romance. She had to get in line behind the hordes of other women swooning over Joel, including his pregnant wife.

“Her departure does create a gaping hole in our executive team,” Don added.

“A hole with your name on it,” Madeline told Tamara.

“But I've already told you, working here isn't for me.”

“Mainly because you haven't given this place a fair chance. What will it take to get you here?” her mother asked.

“Are you offering me the chief executive officer role?”

“Of course not. That's Don's job. But you can have any other role in the company, including mine as head of marketing. Whatever you want. Just name it.”

Tamara let out a hearty laugh. “You don't get it, do you?” Tamara wrenched her hands before speaking again. “I don't want to work here. How else can I say this so you understand me once and for all? What other language can I use? Hear me good,” she said with her voice marginally elevated but intentionally crisp. “I don't want a job at DMI, period, end of story, finito,” she said, leaning against the edge of the table.

“Is it me?” Madeline asked.

Tamara let her gaze drop to the floor.

“Because we can work out our being here together. One of us can work from home or move to another floor. Heck, I'll rent you out a remote space with a small team to join you. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get you into an executive management seat at DMI, where you and your brother belong.” Madeline had a strange look. “Please don't let my years of fighting for DMI be in vain.”

“I can't take this. You're not listening to me. This is a waste of time.” Tamara stood and snatched her purse and jacket from the chair.

“Where are you going? We haven't finished.” Madeline stood and rushed toward Tamara.

“Mother, let her go. She needs space, and we have to give it to her,” Don interjected.

“Thank you,” Tamara told him.

Madeline wrapped her hands around both of Tamara's arms. “Don't leave. I know we can work this out, if you give us a chance.”

Tamara wiggled from her mother's clutches. “There's nothing to work out.”

“I'll catch up with you later,” Don told his sister.

Tamara gave a wave with her back to Don and Madeline as she crossed the threshold. The fog was lifting, and she began thinking more clearly with each stride.

“Well, that didn't go as planned,” Madeline said, returning to her seat.

“I guess not, Mother,” Don said. “You badgered her again. We keep having the same argument day after day. When are you going to accept the fact that Tamara has her own plans? You can't strong-arm her into returning. You just can't. When are you going to see it and leave her alone?”

“Oh, so now you're going to jump on me too?”

“It's not like that, and you know it Mother. But I am tired of this constant fighting. I want the best for our family. If she's happy doing something else, then so be it. Let her do something else. For our sake, let this go.”

“Great. Both of my children are mad at me. I can't win.”

Don walked closer to his mother and placed his hand on her shoulder. His glance locked with hers. “Mother, I know you mean well. I'm sure, deep down, Tamara knows it too, but you have to stop pushing. We're adults. You've done your job in raising us. Trust us to make our own decisions.”

Madeline attempted to pull away. Why had she fought for decades? Defeat wanted to settle in. Madeline resisted, but her determination was weakening given the inevitability of the situation.

Don kept his hand gently on her shoulder. “We'll work this out. As much as you hate waiting, stand back and let God work out a plan for our family. That's what I'm going to do,” he said.

“You're right about my hating to wait. I'm not willing to sit around for the heavens to make my dream a reality. I can handle this on my own.”

“Good luck,” Don said, chuckling as he walked toward her office door. “You're going to need it.”

“Where are you going?”

“I'm running to my office for a few minutes. That should give you ample time to call Tamara and apologize.”

“Apologize for what? For being a good mother and wanting the best for my daughter? I'm hardly going to apologize for loving my children.”

“Fine. Then have it your way. Sit in here and pout while Tamara is out there making plans to leave town.”

“Who said she's leaving?” Madeline asked as her eyelids widened.

“Nobody, but I know what she does. You push and she runs. You're both so pigheaded. Neither of you are willing to back down and let the other have her say.”

Madeline grimaced. “Well, what do you want me to say?”

“That you'll call Tamara and apologize. It really doesn't matter if you're right or wrong as long as the two of you keep the lines of communication open and continue to nurture your fragile relationship. Wouldn't you agree reconciliation is the most important thing?” Don said and then left Madeline to meditate on his words and her dreams.