“You look like shit, Mad” was all Jack said to her, and it was true. She looked exhausted, but she had still managed to look presentable on the air when she had to. But her face was drawn and pale, and there were deep circles under her eyes.

“Why are you so mad at me all the time?” She looked puzzled. Admittedly she had done some things to upset him in the past few months. Everything from her editorials, to her relationship with Lizzie, to her talks with Bill. But her real crime was that she was less in his control now, and he hated her for it. Dr. Flowers had warned her about that. She had said that he wouldn't take kindly to it, and she'd been right. It was very threatening to him. But as the thought that he hated her crossed Maddy's mind, she was suddenly reminded of what Janet McCutchins had said to her four months before, that her husband hated her, and Maddy had refused to believe it. But she believed it of Jack now. He certainly acted like it.

“I have reason to be mad at you,” he said coldly. “You've betrayed me every way you could in the last few months, Mad. You're just lucky I haven't fired you yet.” The yet was supposed to terrify her, and make her feel that he would at any moment. And he might. But what she really felt was anxious. It was so hard standing up to him, and taking the consequences for it. But lately, she felt she had to. Finding Lizzie, and knowing Bill, had somehow changed her. She felt as though she had found herself, as well as her daughter. And it was obvious that Jack didn't like it. That night when they went to bed, he didn't even talk to her, and he was icy with her the next morning.

Jack was harder than ever on her these days, and he alternated constant criticism with the cold shoulder. He had very little pleasant to say to her, and she didn't care as much. She got her comfort from Bill whenever they talked. And one night when Jack was out, she went to Bill's house again for dinner. He made steak for her this time, because he thought she was still working too hard and needed some real nourishment. But the best nourishment he gave her was the nurturing he lavished on her, and the obvious affection he showered on her.

They talked about the President for a while. He had been in the hospital for two weeks by then, and he was going home in a few days. Maddy and a few others of the elite group had been allowed to interview him briefly, and he looked thinner and very worn. But he was in excellent spirits, and he thanked everyone for their devotion and their kindness. And she had interviewed Phyllis too, who was equally gracious.

It had been an extraordinary two weeks, and Maddy was pleased with the coverage they'd given their viewers, even if Jack wasn't. She had even won the respect of her co-anchor, Elliott Noble. He thought she was an extraordinary reporter, and so did everyone else at the network.

Bill looked at her with a smile full of tenderness and admiration as they sat in his kitchen after dinner. “So what are you going to do now to keep yourself amused?” It wasn't every day the President got shot, and after that, everything else she covered would seem anticlimactic.

“I'll think of something. I have to find Lizzie an apartment.” It was the beginning of November. “I still have another month to do that.”

“Maybe I can look at some with you.” He was less busy than he had been, now that his book was finished. And he was talking about teaching again. He'd had offers from both Yale and Harvard. Maddy was pleased for him, but she knew she'd be sad if he left Washington. He was her only friend there. “It won't be till next September,” he reassured her. “I thought I'd try my hand at another book after the first of the year. Maybe fiction this time.” She was excited for him, but at the same time, she had a sense that she wasn't dealing with her own life. She was increasingly aware of how abusive Jack was, but all she was doing was treading water. But Bill didn't press her about it. Dr. Flowers had said she would do something about it when she was ready, and it might take her years to confront him. Bill had almost resigned himself to it, although he worried about her. But at least her two weeks of covering the President at the hospital had kept her away from Jack, and too busy to deal with him, although he'd been eternally shouting at her on the cell phone. Bill could always hear it in her voice when he called her. Everything was always her fault. It was pure Gaslight.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Bill asked her as they finished dinner.

“Nothing much. We usually go to Virginia, and spend it quietly. Neither of us has family. Sometimes we go to our neighbors'. What about you, Bill?”

“We go to Vermont every year.” But she knew it would be hard for him this year. It was going to be his first Thanksgiving at home without his wife, and he was dreading it, she knew, from their conversations.

“I wish I could invite Lizzie, but I can't. She's going to have Thanksgiving dinner with her favorite foster parents. She seems okay with it.” But nonetheless, Maddy was disappointed not to be with her for their first Thanksgiving, but they had no choice.

“What about you? Will you be okay?” he asked, sounding worried.

“I think so.” But she wasn't as sure now. She had talked to Dr. Flowers about it, who was begging her to go to a group for battered women. And Maddy had promised her she would. It was starting right after Thanksgiving.

Maddy saw Bill the day before they left, and they were both in somber moods. He because of his wife, and she because she had to go away with Jack, and their relationship was so tense. It seemed to be electrified by undercurrents. And Jack was watching her like a hawk. He didn't trust her anymore. He hadn't caught her with Bill again, and Bill didn't call her anymore, except on her cell phone. He waited for her to call him most of the time. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more trouble.

On the day before Thanksgiving, she met him at his house. He made tea for her, and she brought him a box of cookies, and they sat in his cozy kitchen and chatted. The weather had turned cold, and he told her it had already snowed in Vermont, and he and his children and grandchildren were planning to go skiing.

She stayed with him for as long as she could, and then finally, she told him she had to get back to the office.

“Take care of yourself, Maddy,” he said gently, with eyes full of feelings for her that couldn't be expressed. They both knew it would have been wrong to do so. Neither of them had ever done anything they'd regret, out of respect for each other. Whatever it was they felt went unexplained and unsaid. It was only with Dr. Flowers that she questioned what she felt for him. They had an odd relationship, and yet she knew they both counted on it. They were like two survivors from sinking ships that had met in troubled waters. She clung to him now before she left, and he held her as a father would a child, with strong arms and a loving heart, and he made no demands of her.

“I'm going to miss you,” he said simply. They knew they couldn't talk to each other over the weekend. Jack would have been suspicious if Bill called on her cell phone. And she didn't dare call him.

“I'll call you if he goes out riding or something. Try not to be too sad,” she said, concerned about him. She knew how hard it was going to be to celebrate the holiday without Margaret. But he wasn't thinking of his wife now, only Maddy

“I'm sure it'll be hard, but it'll be good to see the children.” And then, without thinking, he kissed the top of her head, and held her for one last minute. When they left each other that afternoon, they were both sad, at what they had once had and lost, and could no longer have. And Maddy was silently grateful as she drove away, that at least they had each other. All she could do was thank God for him.





Chapter 18




THE TIME MADDY SPENT IN VIRGINIA with Jack over the holiday was difficult and fraught with tension. He was in a bad mood most of the time, and he locked himself in the study frequently for clandestine phone calls. And this time, she knew it couldn't be the President, because he was still convalescing, and the Vice President was running the country for the moment. And Jack had never been close to him. His ties were to Jim Armstrong and no one else.

And once, when she picked up the phone to call Bill, thinking Jack was out, she accidently heard him talking to a woman. She hung up immediately, without listening to what they were saying. But it made her wonder. He had been so quick to explain the photograph of the woman he'd been with at Annabel's in London, but he had been very removed from her in the past month, and they rarely made love anymore. It was a relief in some ways, but it also puzzled her. For all their married life, his sexual appetite had been insatiable and voracious. And he seemed disinterested in her now, except when he complained to her, or accused her of something he claimed she had done.

She managed to call Lizzie on Thanksgiving Day, and Bill the following night, when Jack went to talk to one of the neighbors about their horses. Bill said the holiday had been rough, but the skiing was great, so that was something. He had made turkey with the kids. And Maddy and Jack had eaten theirs alone in stony silence, but when she tried to talk to him about the tension between them, he brushed her off, and told her it was her imagination, which she knew it wasn't. She had never been as unhappy, except when Bobby Joe was abusing her. In some ways, this felt no different, it was just subtler. But it was hurtful and confusing and sad.

She was relieved when they finally got on the plane to go home, and Jack commented on it with a tone of suspicion. “Any particular reason you're so happy to go home?”

“No, I'm just anxious to get back to work,” she said, fobbing him off. She didn't want to get in a fight with him, and he seemed to be itching to start one.

“Is there someone waiting for you in Washington, Mad?” he asked nastily, and Maddy just looked at him in despair.

“There's no one, Jack. I hope you know that.”

“I'm not sure what I know about you. But I could find out if I wanted,” he said, and she didn't answer. Discretion seemed the better part of valor. Silence the only choice.

And the next day after work, she went to the abuse group she had promised Dr. Flowers she'd attend. She really didn't want to go. It sounded depressing to her, and she had told Jack she had a meeting to attend for the First Lady's commission. She wasn't sure he believed her, but he didn't challenge her for once, and he had plans of his own. He said he was meeting people for business after work.

But Maddy felt depressed again when she walked into the address where the abuse group was held. It was a ramshackle house, in a bad neighborhood, and she felt sure it would be full of dreary, whining women. She just wasn't in the mood to go. But she was surprised when she saw the women arrive, in jeans, and business suits, some young, some old, some pretty, and others plain and unattractive. It was a motley assortment, but most of them seemed to be intelligent and interesting, and some were very lively. And as the group leader came in and sat down, her eyes were warm as she looked at Maddy.

“We only use first names here,” she explained. “And if we recognize each other, we don't discuss it. We don't greet each other if we meet on the street. We don't tell anyone who we saw, and what we heard. What we say here never leaves this room. It's important that we feel safe here.” Maddy nodded, and believed her.

They sat down on threadbare chairs, and introduced themselves by their first names, and many of them seemed to know each other from previous visits to the group. There were twenty women usually, sometimes more, sometimes less, the leader explained. They met twice a week, and however often Maddy wanted to come was fine. It was an open enrollment. There was a coffeepot in the corner, and someone had brought cookies.

And one by one, they began to speak, and talk about what they were doing, what was happening in their lives, what they worried about, or were pleased about, or what they were afraid of. Some were in terrifying situations, some had left husbands who had mistreated them, some were straight, some were gay, and some had children, but the common bond they all shared was that they had been tormented by abusers. Most of them seemed to have had abusive families as children, but some of them didn't. Some of them had had seemingly perfect lives, until they met the men and women who abused them. And as Maddy listened to them, she felt herself relax as she hadn't in years. What she was hearing was so familiar, so real, so much of what she knew that it was like taking off a suit of armor, and breathing fresh air. She felt as though she had come home, and these women were her sisters. And almost everything they described sounded like the relationship she had lived, not only with Bobby Joe, but with Jack in recent years. As she listened to them, it was like hearing her own voice, and her own story, and she knew with utter conviction that Jack had abused her since the day he met her. All the power, all the charm, all the threats, all the control, all the gifts, all the insults, all the humiliation and the pain, it was something they had all experienced. And he was such a classic portrait of an abuser that it embarrassed her that she hadn't understood it sooner. But even when Dr. Flowers had described it at the commission several months before, it hadn't been as clear to her as it was now. And suddenly she no longer felt shame over it, or embarrassment. She felt relief, and the only thing she had done wrong was accept all the blame he had heaped on her, and allowed herself to feel guilty for it.