Journey (5 page)

“You're a brave woman,” Greg said with the broad
ivory smile that dazzled the women he went out with. He was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Washington, and with good reason. He was smart, handsome, nice, and successful, a rare and highly desirable combination, and Maddy was crazy about him, in a purely wholesome sense, she loved working with him. “I'm not sure I'd like to be the one to challenge Jack Hunter and go against one of his edicts.”

“I have connections,” she said with the first smile she'd shown since she'd read about Janet McCutchins.

“Yeah, and the best legs at the network. That doesn't hurt either,” he teased.

But at five o'clock, when she and Greg went on the air for the first time that day, Maddy was nervous. She looked as cool and impeccable as ever, in her red sweater, immaculately groomed hair, and simple diamond stud earrings. But Greg knew her well enough to see how anxious she was during the countdown to air-time.

“You gonna go for it?” he whispered as they got closer to airtime. She nodded to him, and then smiled as the camera zoomed in on her, and she introduced herself and her co-anchor. They worked their way through the news as they always did, working in perfect harmony, alternating stories, and then, Greg rolled his chair away, knowing what was coming, and Maddys face was instantly serious as she faced the cameras on her own.

“There is a story in today's news, which affects each of us, some of us more than others. It's the story of Janet Scarbrough McCutchins's suicide in her Georgetown home, leaving her three children without a mother. It's a tragedy certainly, and who can say what
sorrows forced Mrs. McCutchins to take her own life, but there are questions that can't be ignored, and may well never be answered. Why did she do it? What great pain was she in at that moment, and before? And why did no one listen, or see what must have been her desperation? In a recent conversation, Janet McCutchins told me that she'd been hospitalized briefly once, for depression. But a source close to Mrs. McCutchins said that there could be an issue of abuse here, which led to her suicide. If so, Janet McCutchins would not be the first woman to take her own life, rather than flee an abusive situation. Tragedies like this happen far too often. It is possible that Janet McCutchins had other reasons to take her own life. Perhaps her family knows why she did it, or her husband, or her closest friends, or her children. But it brings into sharper focus, for all of us, the issues that some women face about pain, about fear, and desperation. I cannot tell you why Janet McCutchins died. It is not my place to guess. We have been told that she left a letter to her children, and I'm sure we will never see it.

“But we cannot help but wonder, why it is that when a woman cries, the world turns a deaf ear, and too many of us say, ‘There must be something wrong with
her …
maybe
she's
crazy’ But what if she isn't? Women die every day, by their own hand, and at the hands of their abusers. And too often we do not believe them when they tell us of the pain they're in, or we simply dismiss it. Perhaps it is too painful for us to listen.

“Women who do this are not crazy, most of them, not disturbed, they weren't too lazy or too stupid to leave. They were afraid to. They couldn't do it. Sometimes these women prefer to die at their own hands. Or they
stay too long, and let their husbands kill them. It happens. It's real. We cannot turn our backs on these women. We must help them find a way out.

“I ask you now to remember Janet McCutchins. And the next time we hear of a death like this, ask yourself why? And when you do, be very silent, and listen to the answer, however frightening it may be.

“Goodnight. This is Maddy Hunter.” They went straight to commercial, and everyone in the studio went crazy. No one had dared to stop her, and mesmerized by what she was saying, they hadn't cut to commercial early. Greg just stood by grinning and gave her the high five as she beamed at him. “How was it?” she asked in a choked whisper.

“Dynamite. I'd say we're going to be getting a visit from your husband in about four seconds.”

It was two, as he exploded into the studio like a tornado, and was shaking with fury as he strode toward her. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Paul McCutchins is going to put me out of business!” He stood inches from her, and shouted right into her face. Maddy grew pale, but she never made a move backward. She held her ground, although she too was shaking. It terrified her when he, or anyone else, got angry, but this time she thought it was worth it.

“I said a source close to her said there
could
be an issue of abuse. Hell, Jack, I
saw
her bruises. She
told
me he beat her. What conclusion do you draw from that, when she commits suicide a day later? All I did was ask people to think about women who commit suicide. He can't touch us legally. I can testify to what she said to me, if I have to.”

“And you damn well probably will have to. Are you
deaf, can't you read? I said no editorials, and I fucking meant it!”

“I'm sorry, Jack. I had to, I owed it to her, and other women in her position.”

“Oh, for chrissake …” He ran a frantic hand through his hair, unable to believe what she'd done to him, and that the studio jocks had let her. They could have cut her off, but they hadn't. They liked what she had said about abused women. And Paul McCutchins had a reputation as a verbally abusive person and employer, and as a younger man, he had gotten into an inordinate amount of bar fights. He was one of the most hated Senators in Washington and had a violent temper that manifested itself often. No one had been anxious to defend him, and it seemed perfectly plausible to them, although Maddy never spelled it out, that he might have abused her. Jack was still storming around the studio shouting at everyone when Rafe Thompson, the producer, came to tell him that Senator McCutchins was on the phone for him. “Shit!” he shouted at his wife, “and how much would you like to bet that he's going to sue me?”

“I'm sorry, Jack,” she said quietly, but without remorse, as the assistant producer came to tell her that the First Lady was calling. They each disappeared to separate phones, to very different conversations. Maddy recognized Phyllis Armstrong's voice instantly, and was filled with trepidation as she listened.

“I'm so proud of you, Madeleine,” the warm voice of the older woman came across the line crisply. “That was a very brave thing you did, and very necessary. It was a wonderful broadcast, Maddy.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong,” Maddy said, sounding
calmer than she felt. She didn't tell her that Jack was enraged about it.

“I've been meaning to call you about the Commission on Violence Against Women. Actually, I asked Jack to tell you about it.”

“He did. I'm very interested in it.”

“Of course, he told me you'd love to do it, but I wanted to hear that from you myself. Our husbands have a way of volunteering us for what we least want to do. Mine is no exception.” Maddy smiled as she listened, and it made her feel better about Jack volunteering her time so freely. He was so often overpowering and so liberal about voicing opinions and decisions for her; sometimes it seemed like a lack of respect to her.

“In this case, he was right. I would love to.”

“I'm glad to hear it. We're meeting for the first time this Friday. At the White House, this time, in my private offices. We'll figure out a more appropriate location later. We're still pretty small, there are only a dozen of us. We're trying to figure out how to make an impact on the public, a real one, about violence committed against women. And I think you just took the first swing for us. Congratulations!”

“Thank you again, Mrs. Armstrong,” Maddy said breathlessly, and she beamed at Greg as she hung up.

“Sounds like you were number one in the Armstrong ratings,” he said proudly. He had loved how she'd done it. It took a lot of courage even if the head of the network was her husband. Now she'd have to go home and live with the fallout. And as everyone knew, Jack Hunter wasn't always a sweetheart, especially when someone crossed him. And Maddy wasn't any more exempt than anyone else.

As Maddy started to tell Greg what Mrs. Armstrong had said, Jack strode over to them with a look of fury. He was in a rage.

“Did you know about this?” Jack shot at Greg, desperate to blame someone, anyone, everyone, he looked as though he wanted to strangle Maddy.

“Not exactly, but close enough. I knew she was going to say something,” Greg said honestly. He wasn't afraid of Jack, and although it was a well-kept secret, and he never said anything to Maddy about it, he didn't like Jack Hunter. He thought he was arrogant and overbearing and he didn't like the way he ran Maddy around, though he didn't comment on it to her. She had enough to deal with, without having to defend her husband.

“You could have stopped her,” Jack accused him, “you could have talked right over her, and ended it before it started.”

“I have too much respect for her to do that, Mr. Hunter. Besides, I agree with what she said. I didn't believe her when she told me about Janet McCutchins on Monday. This was a wake-up call to those of us who don't want to have to think about how desperate some women feel in abusive situations. It happens every day all around us. We just don't want to see it or hear it. But because of who she was married to, Janet McCutchins made us hear her. Maybe if enough people heard Maddy tonight, Janet McCutchins's death will mean something, and help someone. With all due respect, I think Maddy did the right thing.” His voice quavered as he said the last words, and Jack Hunter glared at him.

“I'm sure our sponsors are going to love us if we get sued.”

“Is that what McCutchins said on the phone?” Maddy asked with a look of concern. She wasn't sorry, but she hated causing Jack such distress. But in her mind, it had to be done. She had seen with her own eyes what McCutchins had already done to his wife, and she was willing to testify to it, if she had to. She had taken matters into her own hands on the air, whatever the potential cost to her or the network. To Maddy, it seemed worth it.

“He was making veiled threats, but the veil was very thin. He said he was calling his attorneys as soon as he hung up,” Jack said to her harshly.

“I don't think he'll get too far,” Greg said thoughtfully. “The evidence was apparently pretty damning. And Janet McCutchins spoke directly to Maddy. That should cover our asses.”

“‘Our’ asses, how noble of you, Greg,” Jack snapped at him. “As far as I know, mine is the only one on the line here. It was a goddamn stupid, irresponsible thing to do.” And with that, he stalked across the studio again, and went back upstairs to his own quarters.

“Are you okay?” Greg looked at Maddy with concern, and she nodded at him.

“I knew he'd be upset, but I hope we don't get sued.” She looked worried as she said it. She was hoping that McCutchins wouldn't dare sue them, and risk exposing himself.

“Did you tell him about the call from Phyllis Armstrong?”

“I didn't have time,” she confessed. “I'll tell him when we get home.”

But Maddy went home alone that night. Jack had
called his attorneys in to review the tape and discuss it with them, and it was one o'clock in the morning when he got home to Georgetown. Maddy was still awake, but he didn't say a word to her as he walked purposefully across their bedroom to his bathroom.

“How did it go?” she asked cautiously as he turned and glared at her.

“I can't believe you'd do that to me. It was such a fucking stupid thing to do.” He might as well have slapped her. But all Jack did was hit her with angry looks and words. It was obvious that he felt she had betrayed him.

“The First Lady called just after we went off the air, she was very excited about the broadcast, and thought it was a brave thing to do. I'm going on her commission this week,” she said apologetically. She wasn't sure how she was going to make this up to him, but she would have to try now. She didn't want him to hate her over issues that came up at work.

“I already made that decision for you,” he said, looking daggers at her as she mentioned the Commission on Violence Against Women.

“I made it for myself,” she said quietly. “I have a right to do that, Jack.”

“Are you lobbying for women's rights now too, as well as the abused? Do I have an editorial about that to look forward to? Why don't we just get you your own goddamn show, you can talk your head off all day long, and forget the news.”

“If the First Lady liked it, how bad could it be?”

“Pretty goddamn bad, if McCutchins's lawyers say it is.”

“Maybe it'll calm down in a few days,” she said hopefully as he walked slowly toward the bed, and stopped finally, to look down at her in thinly concealed fury. His anger hadn't dissipated or dimmed.

“If you ever do that again, I don't care if you are my wife, I'll fire you on the spot. Is that clear?” She nodded silently, feeling suddenly as though she had not done a good thing, but betrayed him. He had never in their nine years together been as angry at her, and she was wondering if he would ever forgive her for it, particularly if the network got sued.

“I thought it was an important thing to do.”

“I don't give a damn what you think. I don't pay you to think. I pay you to look good and read the news off a TelePrompTer. That's all I want from you.” And with that, he walked into his bathroom, and slammed the door behind him, as she burst into tears in their bedroom. It had been a stressful night for both of them. But in her heart of hearts, she still believed she'd done the right thing, whatever it cost her. And for the moment at least, it looked like it was going to cost her dearly.

When Jack came out of the bathroom, he got into bed without saying a word to her. He turned off the light, turned his back to her, and there was not a sound between them until she heard him snoring. But for the first time in years, she felt a ripple of terror inside her. His anger, however controlled, brought back old memories and was terrifying to her. And that night, for the first time in a long time, she had nightmares.

Jack said not a word to her over breakfast the next morning, and he left for work alone with his driver.