When she got home that night, Jack was there, watching rival stations. He glanced up at her, and never got up off the couch to greet her. He wasn't even grateful for what she'd given him for the past five days. Her life, her soul, her spirit. And he didn't tell her that their ratings were the highest of any network, but she had heard it from the producer. She had even managed to do a story on the dozens of people who had to be moved to other hospitals, to clear an entire floor for the President, his nursing staff, and the Secret Service. And everyone had been cheerful and pleasant about being moved. They were happy to do what they could for him, and they'd been told that their hospital stays elsewhere would be paid for by the White House. None of them were critically ill. They were all convalescing, so it had been all right to move them.
“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.