“Maybe, Greg,” she said, torn between defending Jack and sympathizing with her co-anchor. He hadn't painted a pretty picture for her, and she didn't disagree with him. She just didn't know what to do.

“I'm sorry, Mad,” he said quietly. She meant a lot to him, and for a long time, he had hated the things Jack did to her. And what broke his heart was that Maddy seemed not to notice. But Greg did. And Greg was sure that all of that was part of why they'd fired him. It was too dangerous to have him close to Maddy. “What he's doing to you is abusive.”

“It sounds like it,” she admitted sadly. “But I'm not sure. Maybe we're overreacting, Greg. He doesn't beat me.” She knew better than that, she just didn't want to see it, or hear it. But it was hard to avoid.

“Do you think he respects you?”

“I think he loves me” was her instant answer, particularly after their recent trip to Europe. “I think he wants what's best for me, even if he's not always right in the way he does it.” Greg disagreed with her, and all he wanted her to do was think, and take a closer look at the life she led with Jack.

“I think even abusive men love the women they abuse. Do you think Bobby Joe loved you?”

“No, I don't.” She couldn't believe Greg was comparing Jack to him. It was a terrifying thought, and she didn't want to hear it. It was one thing to think Jack was abusive, another to listen to Greg say as much to her. It made the terror of abuse far too real to her again.

“Well, maybe Bobby Joe didn't love you. But think about some of the things Jack does to you. He moves you around like a thing, an object he's bought and paid for. How loving is it for him to tell you that without him, you'd be nothing? And he wants you to believe that.” Worse yet, she did, and Greg knew that. “Maddy, he wants you to think he owns you.” As he said the words, she felt a chill run down her spine. Those had been Jack's words to her in Europe.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he's not abusing me, and he doesn't own me. Maddy, I want you to do something for me.” She thought he was going to ask her to talk to Jack about getting his job back and she was willing to do it, although she didn't think Jack would listen to her.

“I'll do whatever you want,” she promised.

“I'm going to hold you to that. I want you to go to a group for abused women.”

“That's silly. I don't need one.” She was surprised by the suggestion.

“I want you to decide that after you've been there. I don't think you have any idea what's happening to you, or who's doing it to you. I want you to promise me you'll do it. I'll find one for you.” It was exactly what she had tried to do for Janet McCutchins, but she had been covered with bruises, and Maddy wasn't. “I think it'll open your eyes, Mad. I'll even go with you.”

“Okay … maybe … if you find one. What if someone recognizes me?”

“You can say you came to lend me support. Maddy, my sister went through this. She attempted suicide twice before she figured out what was happening to her. I went with her too. It was like a replay of Gaslight, and she had four kids with him.”

“What happened to her?”

“She divorced him, and she's married to someone terrific now, but it took three years of therapy to get her there. She thought that just because he didn't beat the shit out of her like my dad did to our mom, that he was a hero. Not all forms of abuse leave bruises.” She knew that, but part of her still wanted to believe that what Jack did was different. She didn't want to feel like a victim, or that Jack was an abuser.

“I think you're crazy, but I love you. What are you going to do now, Greg?” She was worried about him, and she was trying not to think about what he'd said about Jack. It was just too threatening to her. She had already started trying to convince herself that Jack wasn't really abusive. Greg was upset and confused, she told herself.

“I'll be doing sports on NBC. They made me a great offer and I start in two weeks. Do you know who they have for you yet?”

“Brad Newbury,” she said, sounding depressed about it. She was going to miss Greg more than she could tell him. And maybe it would be worth going to an abuse group with him, just so she could see him. She was sure that Jack wasn't going to let her socialize with him. He'd find a way to cut Greg out of her life completely “for her own good,” and make it impossible for her to see him. She knew that much about her husband.

“The guy from CNN?” Greg said in disbelief when she mentioned Brad's name. “You've got to be kidding. He's awful.”

“I think our ratings are going to go straight down the tubes without you.”

“No, they won't. They've got you. It'll be okay, kid. Just think about what I said. That's all I want you to do. Think about it.” Doing the news with Brad was the least of her problems.

“I will,” she said, but without much conviction. And for the rest of the morning, every time she thought about Greg she felt anxious. The things he had said to her had touched a nerve somewhere, and she was doing everything she could to deny them. When Jack said he “owned” her, all he meant was that he loved her with a passion. But now that she thought about it, even their lovemaking had an odd quality to it, especially lately. He had hurt her more than once, and in Paris pretty badly. It had taken a week for her nipple to heal, and when he made love to her on the marble floor at Claridge's, he had hurt her back and she could still feel it. But that hadn't been intentional, he was just insatiable and highly sexed, and he thought her desirable. And he didn't like making plans. How abusive was it to take her to Paris, to stay at the Ritz, even without much notice? And he had bought her a bracelet at Cartier and a ring at Graff's. Greg was crazy, and probably just upset that he'd been fired, which was understandable. And the craziest thing of all was comparing Jack to Bobby Joe. They had absolutely nothing in common, and Jack had saved her from him. But the one thing she couldn't figure out was why she felt sick every time she thought about the things Greg had said to her. He had made her incredibly nervous. But just thinking about abuse did that to her.

She was still haunted by Greg's words when she went to the First Lady's commission on Monday and sat next to Bill Alexander. He had a tan, and said he'd visited his son again in Vermont since they last met, and his daughter in Martha's Vineyard, over the weekend.

“How's the book coming?” she whispered, as the meeting began.

“Slowly, but well,” he smiled at her, admiring her, as everyone did. She was wearing a blue cotton man's shirt, and white linen slacks, and she looked summery and pretty.

The First Lady had invited a guest speaker to come and speak to them about abuse. Her name was Eugenia Flowers. She was a psychiatrist who specialized in victims of abuse, and a supporter of numerous women's causes. Maddy had heard of her, but never met her. Dr. Flowers went around the room, talking to each of them from where she sat. She was personable and warm and looked like a grandmother, but her eyes were sharp, and she seemed to know exactly what to say to everyone. She asked questions of each of them about what they thought abusive behavior was, and most of them said pretty much the same thing, that it meant hitting or beating or battering the victim.

“Well, that's true,” she agreed amiably, “those are the obvious ones.” And then she listed several others, some of them so perverted and obscure that it made each of them wince to think about them. “But what about other forms? What do you think those might be? Abusers wear many hats and many faces. What about controlling someone, their every act and every move, every thought? Destroying their confidence in themselves, isolating them, frightening them? Maybe just driving too fast in a dangerous situation until you terrify them? Or threatening them? Disrespecting them? Making someone believe that white is black and black is white, until you confuse them completely, or taking money from them, or telling them they'd be nothing without you, that you ‘own’ them? Taking their free will away from them, or forcing them to make reproductive choices they don't want, either having babies one after the other, or constant abortions, or maybe even not allowing them to have children at all? Do any of those sound like abuse to you? Well, they are, classic forms in fact, and they're just as painful, just as dangerous, just as lethal, as the kind that leave bruises.” Maddy felt as though she couldn't breathe as she listened. She went deathly pale, and Bill Alexander noticed, but said nothing to her.

“There are many kinds of violence against women,” the speaker went on, “some of them obvious, all of them dangerous, some of them more insidious than others. The most insidious are the subtle ones, because the victims not only believe them, but blame themselves for them. If the abuser is clever enough, he can use all of them, and convince his or her victim that it was all their fault. An abuse victim can be driven to suicide, drug abuse, crippling depression, or even murder. Abuse of any kind, at any time, is potentially fatal to the victim. But the subtler forms are the hardest to stop, because it's harder to see them. And worst of all, the victim is so convinced most of the time that it's her fault, that she goes back for more, and helps the abuser do it, because she feels she owes it to him, and she feels so guilty and so bad and so worthless that she knows he's right and she deserves it. She believes that she would be nothing without him.” Maddy felt faint as she listened, the woman was describing her marriage to Jack in every detail. He had never laid a hand on her, except the one time he had grabbed her arm, but he had done everything the woman had described, and Maddy wanted to run out of the room screaming. Instead she felt paralyzed in her chair.