Humbled (7 page)

On Friday morning Joel crept down I-94, the gateway to Detroit. Before leaving Chicago, he'd contacted Zarah. Countless times before his Lamborghini had sped down the road, cutting the five-hour ride down to four. Anticipation generally forced him to press down hard on the gas pedal. The trepidation he was feeling now wasn't to be confused with anticipation. Instead of pressing hard on the gas pedal for this trip, Joel had actually driven in the slower lane most of the way, stopping at each rest station. His sense of urgency didn't propel him. Finally, after nearly eight hours on the road, Joel turned onto his street. He slowed the car too abruptly, nearly forcing it to stall. He eased to the side and put on his hazard lights. Joel rested his head on the steering wheel. This was it. Within fifteen minutes he'd be facing Zarah and possibly the repercussions of his choices.

Time clicked by, with Joel showing no signs of movement. He went back and forth in his mind about what to say, how to feel, how to act once he was in the house. Nothing made sense. His thoughts were just jumbled. Tired of fretting, he did what he should have done the entire ride home. He clutched the steering wheel and cried out.

“God, I'm . . .” he mumbled. “I mean, I need help. I messed up, but I'm asking for your mercy and grace in getting this fixed. Help me, Lord,” he shouted aloud. “Please help me,” he said, easing the car into gear and up his driveway.

Joel sat in the car awhile before eventually going inside. He left his suitcase in the car in case an overnight stay at a hotel or at his mother's was warranted.

Zarah must have been listening for the door to open. Like flies swarming a corpse, she homed in on him, refusing to give him much space. “I'm very pleased to have you home. We have so much to discuss,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the library. She didn't attempt to hug him, which wasn't surprising to Joel, given that the act wasn't a natural expression or greeting in her family. Gentle nods were more commonplace.

Joel was relieved. They sat down simultaneously. She sat close to him. He didn't resist. Ironically, he recalled being in a similar scene several months ago with Zarah. His lack of resistance that lone evening had the two of them facing an unexpected pregnancy now. Joel chuckled inside and casually slid over.

“I'm very happy about our baby,” she said, clearly excited. The same level of enthusiasm didn't spill over to him. He was stuck in reflection, while Zarah was in “We're married and having a baby” gear. The more he thought about the baby, the more his head hurt. He rubbed his temples as Zarah chatted uncontrollably. He'd never seen her quite so animated. He didn't dare take away her elation. He only wished she wasn't asking him to join her.

“We have to make plans for the nursery. We have to schedule painters and order the furniture. This will be very nice for us to do together.”

“No, you go ahead,” he said, unclasping Zarah's hand from his and setting it on her thigh.

“Yes, I'm so sorry. You are too busy for the nursery. It's no worry. I have plenty of help here for the nursery. But we must speak about making arrangements for the baby to be blessed in the temple. We must travel to India as soon after the birth as possible. We want the gods to bless our child with health, happiness, and prosperity.”

Joel had to pause, having never thought about how their children would be raised given that he was Christian and Zarah paid homage to many gods, drawing on her internal energy as the source of her faith. She had her gods, and he had his God. Not until this moment had he fully weighed the gravity of his decision to marry Zarah. While he'd gained by marrying her and having access to her father's business, he'd clearly compromised much more—his dignity, his beliefs, and most importantly, his relationship with God. Although he was rusty spiritually, Joel's common sense was intact enough for him to know he wasn't willing to sideline his faith for Zarah's. The magnitude of his decision to stay in or leave the marriage was increasing.

“I'd rather have the baby dedicated in a Christian church. Besides, why would you want to fly so far with a newborn baby when there are plenty of churches right here that I trust?”

He saw her excitement cool down in her expression. “Blessings are most important in my culture and in my family. My child would not be accepted if I didn't go for the blessings,” she said as her eyes watered. “I don't want our child to be treated as rubbish. My family would not accept either of us, me or our baby.” A tear fell from her eye.

“Calm down and don't upset yourself. We'll work this out.”

He had to take her seriously, but what was he to do? If he chose to stay in the marriage, it would be for the child. If he was going to raise a child, it had to be baptized in the church with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. There was no way he could let his child be blessed by another god or dedicated through any other religion. Joel couldn't fathom the concept. No amount of liberal juice or well-spoken reasons or tears was going to change his mind on this one. They were at an impasse, and she was totally unaware of it. To get into a heated argument with her was pointless. There was a minimum of six months before such a decision had to be made. By then, they might be divorced, anyway.

Too much to think about,
Joel thought. The more he reflected on their differences and the conditions by which they were married, the more his inclination to stay married lost traction. Joel had to be honest. He couldn't give Zarah what she wanted. Leading her on would be cruel.

“I'm going to grab a few more clothes.”

“And then we can sit down together for dinner. I had the cook make a nice meal before she left. You will be pleased,” Zarah told him.

Joel wanted to curl up in the corner and wash away his dread. Zarah was dogging him emotionally at every turn. Her sweet, gentle voice wasn't going to let up, and it made him feel like he was the monster. If he told her he needed time to figure things out, she might feel badly at first, but being honest with her was for the best.

Turning to face her, he saw the radiance in her eyes. She really was happy; making him feel even worse, if that was possible. But then he stopped worrying about her reaction and spit out his words. “Zarah,” he said, taking her hand, “I will have dinner with you and then I'll get a room at the Westin until I can figure out what's next.”

“No, you must stay here. You've been gone for two weeks. We have had very little time together.”

Huh?
They'd spent plenty of time together. Her pregnancy was the proof. Joel cringed. “Please, don't fight me on this. I need the space, and you do too.”

“I don't ever need space from my husband,” she said as several tears fell. “Please stay with me. I don't want to be here without you.” She clung to him.

Joel buried his head in his hands and slowly massaged his temples. The bulk of the damaging storm was over, but there was more to come. He'd camp out at the Westin until his plans crystallized. He'd concentrate on his professional recovery and let the marriage sit on the sidelines, out of the way. In the meantime, he had plenty to worry about.

Zarah couldn't move. She'd sat in the exact same spot for hours, clinging to the desire of his return. When her husband walked out, he'd crushed her spirit. Her tears had dried up after she'd cried off and on for close to two hours. The ache was too deep for her to touch. There was too much to process. How would she face her family? Getting divorced was grounds for being shunned. Being pregnant and divorced was worse than death. At least with death there was peace and a positive flow of energy that would usher her soul to a place of goodness and contentment. She wanted to get up and go somewhere or do something, but her strength faded.

Panic set in. The estate felt too big, empty, and dark. Zarah struggled to settle down. The sharp memory of depression crept in. She'd lost her will to live months ago, when Joel had abandoned her the first time, before he asked for a divorce. She hadn't wanted to live without him. That hadn't changed, but the baby didn't give her the option of giving up. She couldn't lie on her bed until death claimed her sad soul. She had to get better for the sake of her child. Nothing else took precedence, not even Joel.

Zarah wallowed in her sorrow for another twenty minutes.
Enough,
she thought, placing the palm of her hand gently across her abdomen. She needed help, and there was only one person who came to mind. She rushed to the phone and dialed Tamara frantically. The phone rang and rang, and her call finally went to voice mail. She redialed two more times, until Tamara answered.

“You're there!” Zarah shouted. “I rang you twice before.”

“I'm sorry I missed your calls. I was picking up my carryout order and didn't hear the phone inside the restaurant.”

Zarah sighed loudly.

“What's going on? Are you all right?” Tamara asked.

“No, I'm not good.”

“Do I need to ask what's wrong, or do I already know?”

“Joel has left our home for a stay at the hotel.”

“When did he get back?”

“This evening he came home. We spoke, and he moved to the hotel. I don't want to live in this house alone. I want my husband.”

Zarah had anticipated Tamara's reaction. She'd heard her comments repeatedly, but Tamara didn't understand the stigma that would come from a divorce. Zarah didn't care about the arrangement surrounding her marriage to Joel. He was her husband. She had pledged her heart and her virginity to him and would be committed to him for her whole life. There was no other man, marriage, or relationship for her. Joel Mitchell was the only one. She had to get him home.

“It kills me to see you so caught up in a man who doesn't value you. How long are you going to play this game with him? When are you going to take over your father's business and forget about Joel?”

Zarah was grateful for Tamara's friendship. At least she wasn't in this big country completely alone, but she didn't think Tamara would ever support her desire to be reconciled with Joel. Discussing her marriage further was not good. “I don't want to fight with you. I'm too exhausted.” Grief swallowed the room, along with her heart.

“I'm not trying to upset you, but chasing after an uninterested man is the fastest way to run him off. I keep telling you to take charge. Run Harmonious Energy. Let Joel see you're in charge and not paying attention to him. You can do this.”

The words stung. Zarah had heard her sister-in-law's appeal repeatedly but hadn't intended to follow her advice. This evening Tamara's words took on new meaning. She'd tried getting Joel to come home by expressing her commitment to him. It hadn't worked. The pregnancy hadn't, either. Zarah knew there weren't many ways left to win Joel's affection. She had to listen to Tamara. Maybe she would give some consideration to running her father's business, at least some portion of it. According to Tamara, this would save her marriage. She had to try.

“I'll look into getting the company, but I won't stop going for my husband. I hope you will honor my wishes.”

“What can I do?” Tamara asked in a gentle voice.

Zarah was pleased her sister-in-law wasn't shouting. “I don't believe you can do anything for me.”

“How about I come over? We can chat or watch TV, or we can sit and cry over Joel if you'd like.”

“I would very much like for you to come here. I feel very alone.”

“Say no more. I'm on my way. Give me about forty-five minutes and I'll be there.”

Zarah was relieved. The memories of her depression faded. Tamara wasn't Joel, but she was a Mitchell. Staying connected with his family pleased her.

The weekend had sailed by, and the Monday morning sun ushered in a new week, but Joel didn't feel refreshed. He'd drifted in and out of sleep most of the night. He wanted to jump up and run toward something. Yet he was frozen as he lay across the bed, allowing his anxiety to mount. Finally, after an hour of doing nothing, Joel got dressed and got out of the hotel. His personal existence was in flux. At least if he had a reason to crawl out of bed and get motivated each morning, Joel was confident the other chaos would settle down. He had to get a job or make one. Either way, he had to try every possibility. He smacked down his pride and headed toward the only quasi-refuge he had in Detroit, DMI.

Joel pulled into the parking lot and stopped along the executive row. For nearly three years, he'd parked in the CEO stall. Don was the one parking in the CEO spot now, next to Madeline's convertible Bentley. Intently cruising along the executive row, Joel saw that there wasn't a spot for him. He eased the car into gear and crept to the next row. He found an empty space next to the one reserved for his mother. Joel headed toward the building and a flood of sentiment met him at the door. Positive and negative memories were mixed together, though they were mostly positive. He basked in a sense of comfort as he walked through the lobby. He couldn't resist reflecting on his tenure at DMI and concluded that those years were, undoubtedly, the most successful, challenging, and satisfying ones of his life. Being at the helm of a company was like an insatiable drug, one that drove him to make rash decisions and back alley deals which had clouded his vision. To say he regretted those times would be a lie. He lived to have the sensation of being in charge again.

“Hi, Mr. Mitchell,” one of the security guards said.

He returned the greeting. Others approached Joel before he reached the elevators. So far the visit had been good. His troubles were already growing lighter to bear. Hopefully, the rest of his visit would go equally as well, although he didn't have high expectations. The last time he walked out of this building, many whom he'd hurt had stayed. He knew there would be some tension, but he had to try. He was too desperate to let pride force him back to the parking lot without talking with Abigail. No false pretenses. Joel planned to be completely honest.

He reached her office. Peeking inside, he saw her typing on her laptop. She didn't see him in the doorway. He drew in a quiet but long breath, preparing for the hailstorm that might be coming his way. He knocked. Abigail looked up, stared at him, as if she were seeing a stranger. She didn't speak and went back to typing on her laptop.

The warmth he'd felt as he walked through the lobby had already cooled off, and there was no way to deny the truth. He was in a hostile environment. The war might be over, but the fallout was still palpable. He should have walked away after Abigail's subtle display of rejection. The old Joel would have. This one had too great a need to let rejection drive him away. He was poised for a battle.

“Can I come in?” he asked Abigail and entered her office before she could respond. “It's good to see you too,” he said, taking a seat in front of her desk. He folded his hands and grinned. In the past, his smile had melted her, along with a long list of other women. Right now, there was only one woman of importance, his loyal friend and former chief advisor. Joel braced his elbows on the chair and kept grinning at Abigail, who looked up at him sporadically. He remained undeterred. It would take a lot more than a disgruntled friend to get him out of that office before he had his say. He pulled the chair closer to her desk. “Are you really going to ignore me?” he asked.

She let out an irritating juvenile scream. “What do you want, Joel?” she said, slamming the laptop shut.

“My, my, I wasn't prepared for such a warm welcome. I was expecting much worse.”

“What do you want? Can't you see that I'm very busy?”

Joel reached over to touch her laptop, easing the top open. “Let me see what you're working on,” he said, intentionally being slightly annoying in an effort to get Abigail out of her tightly wound mood.

She snatched the laptop away and slammed it shut again. “Stop, Joel. You know this is proprietary.”

To a stranger, Abigail would seem agitated to the point of wanting him to leave. Joel knew better. Joking around was a core piece of their relationship. The countless days and evenings they'd spent working together had generated a boatload of silliness between them. He relished those days.
No sense pining,
he thought. That phase of their relationship ended when he decided to marry Zarah instead of Abigail. The close friendship they had shared was no more. His heart wouldn't allow him to believe every aspect of their relationship was over. There had to be a small fragment of it left. Somewhere in her soul, she had to have some compassion for him. That was what Joel was hoping to find this morning.

He stayed close to the desk, causing Abigail to push her chair back on the other side. “So are you still resigning, or did Don convince you to stay?”

“You better believe I'm resigning,” she answered very quickly.

Joel pulled back. “Wow. Did I hit a nerve?”

She reopened the laptop. “I told you, I'm very busy. What do you want?” she said while banging on a few keys. “When you were here three or four weeks ago, you told me you were getting divorced and going to Chicago.”

“I spent a few weeks in Chicago, just like I said.”

She gave him a harsh stare. “How is Sheba?”

The freeze in her tone didn't have to be explained. Abigail had never been comfortable with him and Sheba. Joel had never addressed the issue. Insecurity wasn't addressable as far as he was concerned. Besides, Sheba was the only confidant who hadn't abandoned him after his failure. Nobody on earth was going to cut him off from Sheba, nobody. So he steered the conversation to a more desirable place, talking about business. As angry as Abigail was, she loved a good business venture. There were times when she seemed more driven toward success than he was. That was where they'd connected before, and he believed they would connect there again.

“Abigail,” he said, reaching for her hand. She tried pulling it away, but he caught her fingertips. “You don't hate me.” He grabbed more of her hand. “We were good here together, and you can't deny it. You can't tell me you don't miss the rush of adrenaline every time we closed another deal. We were unstoppable,” he said, gazing at her.

“Those days are gone,” she snapped at him.

“But they don't have to be.”

She withdrew her hand from his, but not in an angry or anxious way. Those reactions required too much passion, more emotion than she could muster for Joel. As he sat an arm's length away, she felt nothing. There were no sparks flying or harps playing. He'd made sure she shut down her unbridled love for him months ago. His cunning grin didn't excite her as it once had. Didn't mean he was a leper. She genuinely cared about him, the same as she did any homeless guy on the street. Maybe a little more, but it didn't seem like a lot more. She was done with his antics and lack of concern about her well-being.

He raised his arms in the air. “You have another month or so here. Do you have another job lined up?” Joel asked.

“Not yet,” she said without looking up.

“See? There you go. Our partnership was meant to be. I'm already out of work, and soon you will be too. What better opportunity for us to start a company together?”

“You must be kidding,” Abigail hurled at him.

He drew close to the desk again. “I'm serious. We ran this place like a well-oiled machine together. DMI realized record growth when I was CEO and you were my executive vice president. We ran this place like no one ever has, not even my father.”

Abigail shook her head. She'd made the painful climb out of the pit of despair and longing for Joel. Actually, Abigail had Tamara to thank for shoving her into the face of reality. Joel wasn't going to put anyone above his own needs. After Tamara abrasively pointed out what she should have detected several years ago, Abigail broke off her ties with Joel, and now she wasn't going backwards. His presence could be tempting, but not this time. She was going to put Abigail first. She was in complete control. She was confident Joel would be able to relate.

“Come on, Abigail,” Joel said. “I need you. I really do.”

“I don't think so,” she said, almost singing the words. She noticed a charge coming from within. Her love for him had been trampled. She really was free. It was hard even for her to believe it, but it was a fact. His suave presence and convincing lines were an irritation, not a tool of persuasion, not anymore.

“Give me one good reason why we shouldn't start a company together.”

She flashed him a look and responded, “You want only one. Wow, that's too easy.” She gently closed her laptop again and rested her folded hands on top. Calmly and with as much control as she could muster, Abigail said, “You had your opportunity with me, and you blew it. Go home to your wife or back to Chicago, to your friend Sheba, or whoever it is that happens to be your lady this week.”

“Okay, I get it. I hurt you. I've apologized over and over.”

“No, you never really apologized, but don't worry. It's not important.” She smiled and titled her head slightly. Abigail was certain Joel didn't know how to take the new woman sitting in her office. “Honestly, I'm glad I saw the man you truly are before it was too late. I pity your wife.”

“I didn't realize that you're still this upset about me getting married.”

“I'm not,” she barked at him.

He smirked. “Will you please let me apologize and put the past behind us?”

“Do whatever you'd like. The days of me waiting for table scraps from you or anyone else with the last name of Mitchell are over. I've gotten off this circus ride.”

“Okay, but, Abigail, if you're truly being honest, you have to admit that I never misled you. Never.” He pushed away from the desk.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn't. She didn't want to think about their history any longer. Chips of anxiety were fluttering around, and she didn't want them to land on her.

He went on. “I told you repeatedly that I wasn't interested in a serious relationship. I made it clear when we began working together that DMI and God were my only priorities.”

“Humph, and you don't have much interaction with either after all your professions of faith, do you?” Abigail asked.

“We all make mistakes. There's no doubt I've made plenty, and I want to apologize for what happened between us. I didn't marry Zarah to hurt you. It was purely business, but I am sorry for hurting you.”

She pulled out her notepad. His apology was no more than a scrap of paper blowing in the wind. They were done. She went back to drafting her report, willing to let Joel sit there until doomsday, staring at the woman who used to love him with her whole heart. Now she pitied him with the same fervor.