Journey

“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.