And there were even times these days, when she felt that Bill was annoyed with her. She knew what he wanted from her, although she wasn't sure why, but he wanted her to get out and find her way to safety. And watching her stumble and fall, advance and retreat, see clearly and then let herself be consumed by guilt until it paralyzed and blinded her, was frustrating for him. They still spoke on the phone every day, and were cautious about how often they had lunch together. There was always the risk that someone would see her going to his house, and make an assumption that would be not only inaccurate but disastrous for her. They were always circumspect even when they were alone. The last thing Bill wanted to do was burden her with more problems. She had enough, he felt, without his adding to them.
The President was back in the Oval Office by then. He was working half days, and tiring easily, he said, but when Maddy saw him at a small tea they gave, she thought he was looking better and much stronger. Phyllis looked as though she'd been through the wars, but she beamed every time she looked at her husband. Maddy envied her that. She couldn't even imagine what it would feel like. She was so used to the tensions in her own relationship that it was hard to imagine living without them. She had come to take that kind of stress and pain for granted. And more than ever lately.
Jack was harsher with her than he'd ever been, quicker to jump down her throat over anything she said, and constantly accusatory about her behavior. It was as though, night and day, at work or at home, he was waiting to pounce on her, like a mountain lion poised to attack his prey, and she knew just how lethal he could be. The things he said were devastating. The way he said them even more so. And yet, there were still times when she found herself thinking how charming he was, how intelligent and how handsome. What she wanted to learn most of all was how to hate him, not just to fear him. She had far greater insight now, thanks to her abused women's group, into what motivated her, and what she was doing. And she knew now that in some subtle, unseen way, she was addicted to him.
She was talking about it to Bill one day, in mid-December. The network Christmas party was the next day, and she wasn't looking forward to it. Jack's latest battle call that she was flirting with Elliott on the air had escalated to his accusing her several times of sleeping with him. She was sure he knew that wasn't true, but he said it to upset her anyway. And he had even made a comment about it to their producer, which made her wonder now if Elliott's days on the show with her were numbered. She had thought about warning him, but when she said as much to Greg on the phone when he called, he told her not to. It would only make more trouble for her, which was probably exactly what Jack wanted.
“He's just trying to make you feel like hell, Mad,” Greg said practically. He was happy in New York, and talking about marrying his new girlfriend, but she had suggested he give it more time. She didn't think much of marriage these days, or at least thought he should be cautious.
And as she sat in Bill's kitchen on a Thursday afternoon, she felt infinitely tired and disillusioned. She wasn't looking forward to Christmas this year, and she was trying to figure out how to get to Memphis to see Lizzie, or have her come to Washington, without Jack knowing. She had finally found a small apartment for her the previous weekend. It was cheerful and bright, and Maddy was in the process of having it repainted. She had made the deposit with a cashier's check, and she was confident that she could pay the rent, without Jack ever finding out about it.
“I hate lying to him,” Maddy said quietly over lunch with Bill. He had bought some caviar for them, and they were enjoying one of their rare, comfortable moments together. “But it's the only way I can do what I want and need. He's so unreasonable about Lizzie, and forbade me to see her.” What wasn't he unreasonable about, Bill thought, but for once he didn't say anything to her. He was less talkative than usual, and she wondered if something was bothering him. She knew the holidays were hard for him. And Margaret's birthday was that week, which was painful too. “Are you okay?” she asked, as she handed him a piece of toast with caviar, squeezed some lemon on it, and he took it from her.
“I don't know. This time of year always makes me nostalgic. Particularly this year. It's hard not to look back sometimes, instead of forward.” But Maddy thought he'd been better lately. He still talked about his wife a great deal, but he seemed to be torturing himself less over what had happened. He and Maddy had talked about it often, and she kept urging him to forgive himself, but it was easier said than done. She had the impression that when he wrote the book, he had worked his way through it. But the sorrow of her loss still weighed on him.
“The holidays are tough,” Maddy conceded. “At least you'll be with your kids.” They were going to Vermont again, and she and Jack were going to Virginia, which she knew would be a lot less fun than what he was doing. Bill and his children were planning an old-fashioned Christmas. Jack hated holidays, and other than a few expensive gifts for her, made as little fuss about them as possible. He had been disappointed each year on Christmas as a child, and as an adult, refused to pay homage to it.
Bill surprised her by what he said next. “I wish I could spend Christmas with you, Maddy” He smiled sadly at her as he said it. It was an impossible dream, but a sweet thought. “My children would love to have you with us.”
“So would Lizzie,” she said, sounding resigned. She had already picked out wonderful Christmas gifts for her, and she had bought a few small things for Bill. She kept finding silly little gifts that reminded her of him, CDs, a warm scarf that looked just like him, and a set of old books that she hoped he would love. Nothing important and expensive, but all very personal, as tokens of the friendship they both cherished. She was saving them for the day before he left for Vermont, and was hoping to have lunch with him one last time before they both left town and went their separate ways until after New Year.
She smiled up at him then, as they ate the last of the caviar. He had bought pâté, and cheese and French bread, and a bottle of red wine. It was a very elegant picnic he had provided for her, a safe haven from the tensions of the world she lived in. “Sometimes I wonder why you put up with me. All I do is moan and whine about Jack, and I know that to you, it must look like I'm not doing anything about it. It must be hard to sit by and watch sometimes. How do you stand me?”
“That's an easy one to answer,” he smiled back at her. And took her breath away by what he said next, without pretense or hesitation. “I love you.” There was an instant's pause as she absorbed it, and realized what he meant. He meant it in the same way she would have said it to Lizzie, as protector and friend, not as a woman would say to a man, or vice versa. At least that was how she understood it.