Unforgiving

by Patricia Haley

  “All right. Let’s go for it.”

  Madeline stopped what she was doing and stared directly at Joel. “I understand that you don’t completely trust my abilities on your behalf, but believe me when I tell you that I intend to win this. With Don flying off any day and Abigail resigning, I want you in the corner office. I’ve worked too hard and sacrificed too much to let a stranger off the street traipse in here and even think about giving me orders. That day will come only after I’m dead and buried, and maybe not even then,” she said, maintaining a serious demeanor. Then she winked, and Madeline could tell that Joel lightened up. “I’ll do my part, and it wouldn’t hurt for you to say a few of those prayers.”

  “That’s an automatic. I prayed from the minute you called last night until this morning.”

  “Who said something about prayer?” Don asked, sticking his head in Madeline’s office.

  “Hey, you. Come in and get comfortable. We have a full day of strategizing and building a case for Joel’s redemption. If we can magnify his successes, I’m hoping the board will overlook his failures.”

  “None of us are perfect. I’m sure they’d agree,” Don said as Joel stood. They locked hands and drew close for a brotherly hug. Both sat at the conference table with Madeline. “Joel made mistakes like the rest of us. He’s repented, and I believe God will restore him.”

  Joel gave Don a nod of appreciation.

  “You stay positive, son. We need all the positivity we can get,” Madeline told Don, taking a sip of water that she’d poured into one of the glasses in the center of the table. “A few of your prayers wouldn’t hurt, either.”

  Don peeled off his suit jacket and swung it across the back of the empty chair next to him. “Mother, you can always send up a prayer to the Lord too.”

  Madeline laughed. “I just might take you up on it. Sure can’t hurt to have the extra assurance.” She was joking, but she was serious at the same time. Madeline let her gaze glide around the table feeling satisfied. All three of them were operating together for a common goal. She hadn’t experienced such unity in the Mitchell family since the years before her children were born, when she, Dave, and Frank were an unstoppable team.

  Around 8:40 a.m. Abigail poked her head in the office. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.” She had turned to walk away before Madeline stopped her.

  “Come on in and join the party. The more the merrier,” Madeline said.

  “Yeah, have a seat,” Don told her as he pulled his jacket off the back of the chair next to him.

  Abigail seemed reluctant until Madeline gently urged her to join them. “This is history in the making, and you can’t miss out.”

  “What history?” Abigail asked, wearing a perplexed expression.

  “Can’t you tell? This is a miracle in the making. Don and I are drafting a knockout presentation to get Joel appointed as CEO of DMI . . . of my company, my baby. Did you think such a day would ever come?”

  “Definitely not,” Abigail said, giving a giddy chuckle.

  “Me either,” Madeline stated. “They must be handing out ice chips in hell.”

  It took a few seconds for the group to catch Madeline’s humor. Once they did, there was a laugh fest at the table.

  “Oh, what the heck; I might as well help. What do you need me to do?” Abigail asked and sat between Don and Joel.

  The morning flowed, with several breaks sprinkled in.

  “So, Don, when is the big day?” Abigail asked.

  “I’ll fly out sometime soon, if that’s what you mean by ‘the big day.’”

  Madeline was tickled but gave no indication. Even she knew exactly what Abigail meant by the question. She was certain Don did too, and she had to intervene quickly to avert disaster. Some topics were bound to create problems, and this wasn’t the time for distractions and petty, jealous rivalries.

  “Abigail, you’re last day is coming up quickly,” Madeline said, steering the conversation in a different direction.

  “We have to throw you a huge going away party,” Joel said.

  “That’s a great idea,” Don added. “All the bells and whistles. You deserve it.”

  “What about you, Madeline?” Joel asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Don is heading to South Africa. Hopefully, I’ll be CEO. Abigail is leaving, and Tamara too. What are you going to do?”

  She’d have thought Joel had asked the million-dollar question gauging by the stares coming from those seated at the table. She would have gladly answered the question if there was something to say. The truth was that getting Joel appointed and looking out for Tamara had been her primary priorities recently. There hadn’t been room for much else.

  “Maybe I’ll create an online dating profile for you, like I’m doing for my mother. Who knows? Maybe you’ll both meet guys and go on a double date,” Joel said.

  The room erupted in laughter.

  He was funny, but Madeline didn’t give him the satisfaction of making her laugh too. She peered over her glasses, which had slid down to the tip of her nose. “Why don’t you save the jokes for comedy night, after your behind has finished this proposal?”

  The laughter didn’t subside.

  “All right, enough. Is anyone here going to get serious? We have two days of work to complete in one.” Madeline sounded irritated. In actuality she wasn’t close to being upset. She was gratified to see those at the table working together and better than they’d been in months, maybe years, maybe ever.

  Her euphoria would have lasted well into the day if Tamara had been at the table too. But she wasn’t. Madeline wept within. “Excuse me for a few minutes. I need to make a call,” she said, grabbing her cell phone from her bag and taking it into the hallway. Madeline had resigned herself to the notion that her happiness would never be complete unless both of her children were thriving. Don was set. Now it was Tamara’s turn, and Madeline aimed to help her.

  Chapter 47

  Madeline’s confidence wavered. She could run a DMI meeting packed with clients, board members, and senior managers without breaking a sweat. She had proven that the business arena was her playground, and she thrived on the constant rush. She would give anything to possess an iota of that boldness when handling her single area of weakness. She’d reluctantly reach out to her daughter, hoping for the best, while preparing for far less. She wasn’t big on prayer, but this might be the ideal opportunity to give it a try. Her breathing intensified.

  “Mrs. Mitchell, do you want to use my desk?” her assistant asked with a weird expression on her face.

  “No,” Madeline whispered, not wanting to draw any more attention than she already had by standing outside her office and toying with a phone.

  She felt foolish but quickly acknowledged that love for her child was the justification needed to do just about anything. She slid down to the next door, which was closed, and turned her back to the administrative assistant. She still felt uncomfortable being out in the open. Madeline strutted to the break room near the elevators and was pleased to find the room empty. She retreated to a corner and made her call.

  After several attempts and multiple mistakes made in dialing the right series of numbers, Madeline temporarily halted her effort and took a deep breath. She ran her hand across her brow and then rested her fist against her waist. She allowed her heart rate to slow down and prayed silently. The concept was so foreign that she didn’t know what to say. So she recited the Lord’s Prayer, which she’d learned from her grandmother during her childhood. Madeline was absolutely certain that she hadn’t got all the words right, but that was the best she could do. Focusing on the prayer took her mind off the pressure she was feeling about calling Tamara. Once she’d settled down, Madeline got the number right on the next try.

  Once the phone rang, her heart rate threatened to fire up again. Madeline had spent so much energy on making the call that she hadn’t thought about what she’d say when Tamara answered. After three ring
s, it was show time. Her daughter was on the line, and Madeline had to say something.

  “Tamara, I, well . . . I’m, uh . . . ,” she stammered.

  “Mother, are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I am, but I would be much better if Remo was extradited to a remote prison thousands of miles away from you.”

  “That would be nice, but I doubt that you called about Remo’s travel plans.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t. I called because I need to know that you’re getting past this ordeal.”

  “I wouldn’t call it getting past. It’s more like surviving.”

  Madeline wasn’t about to disagree. She was happy to get any time with Tamara. She wouldn’t squander the morsel of time under any circumstance. “We all deal with situations in our own way. Do whatever you need to do.”

  “I’m glad you said that, because I really must get out of town. I’m not even sure I can wait until this legal business is over.”

  “When I said ‘whatever you need to do,’ I didn’t mean leave in a hurry.” Madeline wanted to cry out. Having her personal business exposed for all her subordinates to see wasn’t a remote possibility. “You at least have to stay long enough to finish this situation with Remo and the courts.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you, I don’t know if I can.”

  Madeline had to hold her feelings together in case someone walked in the room. “Tamara,” Madeline said, staring at the floor and enunciating each word, “you don’t have to run away. We can protect you. Remo is not going to get away this time.”

  “This isn’t about Remo. I’m leaving because there’s no purpose for me here. I need to move on and, quite honestly, get a life.”

  “Sweetheart, Detroit is home. You have a life here. You’ll always have one here.”

  “No, I don’t. You and Don are businesspeople. Joel is too, for that matter. I guess that Mitchell gene skipped me.”

  Madeline traced circles on the floor with the tip of one of her high heel shoes. “You belong at DMI as much as the rest of us. With the proper mentoring and assignments, you’ll be ready to assume a senior management position in no time. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Mother, face it. I’m not cut out for a senior position at DMI.”

  Madeline listened but refused to hear what Tamara was saying.

  “And don’t worry. I’m not upset about it anymore,” Tamara added.

  Don stuck his head into the break room. “Oh, there you are. Joel’s ready to walk through the presentation.”

  Madeline covered the phone. “Give me a few minutes.”

  “Hurry up. We’re waiting,” Don said and ducked back out.

  “Where will you go?” Madeline asked.

  “Don’t know.”

  Madeline swallowed hard. “When will you return?”

  “I won’t. This is it. Once I leave, I don’t plan on coming back.” There was an extended pause followed by, “Isn’t that good news for you, Mother? You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  Madeline clutched her chest as if she could reach her heartache. “Don’t you know how much I love you?” she said, pressing her back firmly against the wall and refusing to sit down and fall apart. She had to keep standing. “I don’t care whether you’re in Detroit or Timbuktu. I will always worry about you and Don. You’re my most important reason for living.”

  “Mother, I have to go.”

  It sounded like Tamara was crying, but Madeline wasn’t sure. She wanted to keep her daughter on the phone, afraid that when the call ended, that might be the end of their relationship. Madeline couldn’t bear the notion. She consciously chose to be in denial. Tamara wasn’t really going to disappear. She’d fly away and drift back in a few months. If not, she’d disappear and then show up on the radar of the private investigator that Madeline would be hiring later today. That was the routine they’d established over the course of fifteen years. It wasn’t pretty, but the process worked for Madeline. Some awareness of Tamara’s whereabouts was better than none.

  “Mother, I have to go. Take care of yourself. Bye,” Tamara said and disconnected the call as Madeline stood frozen. She batted her eyelashes repeatedly until they were completely dry. She cleared her throat quietly and patted down her hair. Madeline held her head high and returned to the office, clutching her phone like it was a piece of Tamara.

  “It’s about time,” Don said. “We better get through this walk-through and get back to work. We are still running a company here.”

  Madeline waved her hand at him and gently set the phone on the table. “Let’s get it done.”

  Joel queued up the presentation on his laptop and projected it onto the whiteboard. “I’ll skip the intros and go directly to the selling points,” he said.

  Madeline watched him flip through several slides and didn’t utter a word. Joel must have noticed her distraction.

  “Madeline, do you have a question?” he asked.

  “Uh-uh,” she muttered.

  “You seem distracted, or is my pace too slow? Heaven knows I don’t want anyone to fall asleep during my presentation.”

  Don and Abigail laughed briefly.

  “Do we need to make changes?” Joel asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Madeline responded, not wanting to elaborate. It wasn’t Joel. She just didn’t want to be there.

  Don interjected, “Mother, are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not. I just got off the phone with Tamara.” Madeline was broken. Yet she still wasn’t going to crack publicly. There would be ample opportunities to deal with her anguish alone at home later. “She’s leaving town for good. She might not even wait for Remo’s court date. She wants to go now. That’s what she told me. So, please forgive me if the presentation doesn’t have my full attention. This isn’t exactly my finest hour.”

  “I understand,” Joel said and shut off the laptop.

  “I’m sure Tamara didn’t mean that she’s leaving for good,” Abigail remarked. “She’ll probably take an extended vacation. She’ll be back. I’m sure of it.”

  “Well, I’m not. You didn’t hear the tone in her voice. She’s serious. When she leaves, this is it. I know it,” Madeline said.

  “Mother, you can’t believe any of that. Tamara was traumatized a few days ago. She needs time to recover. Actually, I think it’s a good idea for her to get away. She should stay away until Remo goes to court and gets sentenced to some real jail time. The farther away she is from Detroit, the better for all of us,” Don said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Madeline lashed out at him.

  “I’m not sure that Tamara leaving the area is best,” Joel said.

  Joel instantly had Madeline’s attention, since he was articulating her sentiments. “Me either. She’s much safer here with us than traipsing around some foreign country and constantly living in fear,” Madeline stated.

  “Agree. I have a suggestion,” Joel stated.

  “What is it?” Madeline was open to any suggestion, even a bad one. Nothing could be totally ignored, except for Don’s ridiculous idea of letting Tamara go off on her own.

  “I want to help. It’s the least I can do, given that you’re the reason I’m sitting here. You and God, of course,” Joel said. “You’ve put your reputation on the line to support me and to give me a chance to prove myself when no one else would. I’m grateful to you.”

  “You know I don’t like this mushy stuff. Let’s get on with the presentation,” Madeline told him.

  “It can wait,” Joel said. “God has used you to change my life. Please let me return the favor. I want to help Tamara for you.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Don asked.

  Desperation strangled her pride and freed Madeline to accept the offer.

  “I don’t have a plan yet, but I will try to change Tamara’s mind.”

  “Joel, that’s a noble offer, and I thank you. But Tamara is very strong-willed,” Madeline told him.

  “Wonder wher
e she got that characteristic?” Don echoed.

  Madeline rolled her eyes in his direction and kept talking to Joel. “Like I said, I appreciate your offer. And I won’t turn you down. However, I have to be honest. I don’t expect anything you do to work. Tamara has made up her mind, and dissuading a stubborn person can be impossible.”

  “Maybe not,” Joel replied. “Look at us.”

  Chapter 48

  Joel meditated on the drive home. His mind was as clear as he could get it in light of the promise he’d made to Madeline. Joel didn’t have any idea of how to reach Tamara. Yet he had to give it his best shot. As the past and the present paraded among his thoughts, he couldn’t avoid harsh introspection.

  The old Joel would have done anything to get what he wanted. He wouldn’t have given a second thought to making a promise that he couldn’t fulfill legally, morally, or ethically. What Joel Mitchell wanted, he got. It wasn’t that long ago when he had the top spot at DMI, a hand on the Bengalis’ wealth, a special friend in Chicago to boost his ego, and a doting wife at home. He’d once savored local stardom and international acclaim—and a very long list of women who’d tackle any obstacle to spend a single evening with him. Admittedly, he’d enjoyed more of life than most could even begin to dream about experiencing.

  The memories came hard and fast. Some poked at his sound state of mind. He resisted as he sped down the street leading to his house. Joel wasn’t sure if the flood of memories was God allowing him to see from whence he’d come or the devil reminding him of who he was. He honestly couldn’t tell, but then he suddenly realized the source didn’t matter. The end result was the most important aspect. Without some type of divine intervention, he could very well be in that same place, chasing women and craving notoriety with no regard for the role God and faith had played in his life from birth. Dave Mitchell might have done some things wrong, but he’d been a real father to Joel. His father was the one who’d taught him to put God first and let Him do the heavy lifting when it came to challenges in life.