He opened the door for her, and she got in, and a moment later, he slid behind the wheel and looked at her with concern. She looked awful. “Are you all right? I thought you were going to faint in there.” She nodded, and said nothing for a moment. She was thinking about lying to him, and telling him she had the flu, but suddenly she just couldn't. She felt totally lost, and utterly alone, as though everything she had trusted and believed in and wanted to believe had been torn from her, and she felt like an orphan. She had never felt as terrified or as vulnerable as she did at that moment. Tears began to slide down her cheeks, as he gently reached out and touched her shoulder. And without meaning to, she began to sob, but there was nothing she could do to stop.
“It's very upsetting listening to these things,” he said gently, and then instinctively he put his arms around her and held her. He didn't know what else to do, but it was what people had done for him when he was distraught about his wife, and what he would have done for his children in the same situation. There was nothing sensual or inappropriate about what he did. He just held her while she cried, until her sobs finally abated, and she looked up at him. What he saw in her eyes was raw terror. “I'm here, Maddy. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You're all right now.” But she shook her head then and began to cry again. Nothing was all right, it hadn't been in years, and maybe it never would be. She suddenly realized how endangered she had been, how demeaned, and how isolated from anyone who might have seen it, or could have helped her. Systematically, Jack had eliminated all her friends, even Greg, and she was his solitary, unprotected prey. Suddenly everything he had done and said to her over the years, and even recently, took on a new and intensely ominous meaning. “What can I do to help you?” Bill asked her, as she clung to him and cried, as she had never been able to, to any man in her life, starting with her father.
“My husband does every single thing that woman talked about today. Someone said exactly the same thing to me a few days ago and I never saw it. But when she started talking about it, I knew … he has completely isolated and abused me for the last seven years, and I thought he was a hero because he didn't beat me.” She sat back against the seat and stared at Bill in shock and disbelief, and he looked desperately worried about her.
“Are you sure?”
“Completely.” He had even abused her sexually she realized now. He wasn't rough by accident, or because he was so passionate about her. It was yet another way of demeaning and controlling her. It was a seemingly acceptable way to hurt her, and he had done it for years. It was incredible to her now that she had never understood it. “I can't begin to tell you the things he's done to me. I don't think she left out a single one of them.” Her lip trembled as she looked at Bill. “What am I going to do now? He says I'd be nothing without him. He calls me poor white trash sometimes, and says I'll wind up back in a trailer park without him.” It was exactly what Eugenia Flowers had just described to them and Bill looked at her in complete amazement.
“Is he joking? You're the biggest name in news in the entire country. You could get a job anywhere. The only way you'll ever see a trailer park again is if you buy one.” She laughed at the remark, and sat staring out the window for a long moment. She felt as though her house had just burned down and she had no idea where to live. She couldn't even imagine going home to Jack, or facing him, now that she had a clearer picture of what he had done to her. But it was still hard for her to believe. She silently told herself that maybe he hadn't meant to, maybe she was wrong.
“I don't know what to do,” she said quietly. “Or what to say to him. I just want to ask him why he acts the way he does.”
“Maybe he doesn't know anything different,” Bill said fairly, “but that's no excuse for abusing you. What can I do to help?” He wanted to, but he was as much at a loss as she was.
“I have to think about what I'm going to do,” she said thoughtfully, as he turned the key in the ignition, and then turned to look at her again.
“Would you like to stop for a cup of coffee?” It was all he could think of to calm her.
“I'd like that.” He had been a real friend to her, and she was grateful for it. She could sense his warmth and sincerity, and she felt safe sitting next to him. She had felt peaceful and safe when he put his arms around her. She knew instinctively that this was a man who would never hurt her. And when she thought about Jack, she knew the difference. There was always an edge to him, an angle, he always said things that put her down, and made her feel as though she were less than he was, and he was doing her a huge favor. Bill Alexander acted as though he was grateful to have the opportunity to help her, and she sensed correctly that she could be honest with him.
They stopped at a small café, and she still looked pale when they sat down at a corner table. Bill ordered tea, and she ordered a cappuccino.
“I'm sorry,” she said apologetically, “I didn't mean to involve you in my personal dramas. I don't know what happened to me. What she said overwhelmed me.”
“Maybe it was just meant to be. Destiny that she would be there. Maddy, what are you going to do now? You can't go on living with a man who's abusive to you. You heard what she said, it's like having a gun to your head. You may not see it clearly yet, but you're in grave danger.”
“I think I'm beginning to understand that. But I can't just leave.”
“Why not?” To him, it seemed simple. She needed to get out, so Jack couldn't hurt her any further. That much was clear to him, if not to Maddy.
“I owe him everything I am, and have. He made me what I am. I work for him. Besides, where would I go? What would I do? If I leave him, I have to quit my job too. I wouldn't know where to go, or what to do. Besides,” she said, as tears filled her eyes again, “he loves me.”
“I'm not as certain of that as you are,” Bill said firmly. “It's not love to treat someone the way Dr. Flowers described to us. Do you really think he loves you?”
“I don't know,” she said, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions of terror and remorse. She felt guilty for what she was thinking and saying about him. What if she was wrong? If in Jack's case, it was different?
“I think you're afraid, and you're in denial again. What about you, Maddy, do you love him?”
“I thought I did. My last husband broke both my arms and my leg at various times. He tortured me, and pushed me down the stairs. He put a lit cigarette out on my back once.” She still had the scar although you could barely see it. “And Jack saved me from him. He drove me to Washington in a limousine and gave me a job, a life. He married me. How can I walk out on him?”
“Because he's not a good guy, from what you've said. It's just subtler and less obvious to you than what your first husband did, but you heard Dr. Flowers, it's just as lethal. And he wasn't doing you a favor when he married you. You're the best thing that ever happened to him, and a prize asset in his business. He's not a philanthropist, he's a businessman, and he knows exactly what he's doing.” You heard the doctor. He is controlling you.”
“And if I leave?”
“He might replace you on the show with someone else, and go on to torture someone else. You can't cure him, Maddy. You have to save yourself. If he wants to change himself, he can get treatment. But first, you have to get out, before he finds some other way to hurt you, or you get too demoralized to leave. You've seen it now. You know what's happening. You have to save yourself, and not think of anyone else. You're risking your life and your well-being. You may not have bruises this time. But if he's doing everything you say, you can't afford to waste a minute. Get away from him.”
“He'll kill me if I leave him.” The last time she had said that had been nine years before, but she suddenly knew that it was just as true this time. Jack had a lot invested in her, and he was not going to take kindly to her quitting or disappearing.