Free Journey by Danielle Steel

walked into the studio and looked at the stories they'd be covering. There was nothing startling or terrific, it was all fairly run of the mill, and once they were on the air, they ran through it smoothly, and then she went back to her office. There were some stories she wanted to read about, and some research she had to do before the seven-thirty show. And at eight o'clock, she was finished. It had been a long day, and as she got ready to leave the office, she called Jack. He was still upstairs, finishing a meeting.
    “Am I getting a ride, or do you want me to walk home?” she asked him and he smiled at the question, in spite of himself. He was still angry at her, but he knew it couldn't go on forever.
    “I'm going to have you run behind the car for thenext six months, to atone for your sins, and what you may cost me.”
    “Phyllis Armstrong doesn't think he'll sue us.”
    “I hope she's right. If she isn't, will the President foot the bill? It'll be a big one.”
    “Let's hope it never happens,” she said quietly. “The commission was terrific by the way. There are some great people on it.” It was the first real conversation they'd had since Tuesday, and she was glad he was finally unbending a little.
    “I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes,” he said quickly. “I have to wind some things up here.”
    And when he came downstairs to the lobby ten minutes later, he didn't look happy to see her, but he looked less ferocious than he had for the past three days, since her “transgression.” And they were both careful not to mention it on the way home. They stopped for a pizza, while she told him about the commission meeting that afternoon. But she didn't give him the personal details either, just the rough form, and what they hoped to do. She felt protective of the people she had met there.
    “Is there a common bond among you, or are you all just smart and interested in the topic?”
    “Both. It's amazing how violence touches everyone's life at one time. Everyone was very honest about it.” It was all she could tell him, or would.
    “You didn't tell them your story, did you?” He looked concerned, as he watched her face.
    “Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. We were all pretty candid.”
    “That's stupid, Mad,” he said bluntly. He was still annoyed at her, and wasn't pulling any punches. “What if someone feeds that to the press? Is that the image youwant out there? Bobby Joe kicking your ass down the stairs in Knoxville?” He sounded critical, and she didn't like it, but she didn't comment on what he'd said.
    “Maybe that's okay, if it helps someone else realize that abuse happens to people like me too. Maybe that's worth a little exposure if it saves someone's life, or gives them hope that they can escape.”
    “All it'll give you is a headache, and a trailer park image I've invested a fortune to get rid of. I don't understand how you could be so stupid.”
    “I was honest. So was everyone there. Some of the stories were a lot worse than mine.” The First Lady's certainly wasn't pretty and she hadn't held back either. They had all been very open, which was the beauty of what they had shared. “Bill Alexander is on the commission too. He told us about his wife getting kidnapped.” It was public knowledge so she could say that much to Jack, but he just shrugged his shoulders in response, and was clearly unsympathetic.
    “He might as well have killed her himself. It was a damn stupid thing to do, trying to negotiate for her himself. The whole damn State Department told him that, but he refused to listen.”
    “He was desperate, and probably not all that rational. She was held hostage for seven months before they killed her. He must have gone crazy, waiting.” She still felt sorry for him when she thought of it, but Jack was unmoved, which annoyed her. He seemed to have a total disregard for the man's feelings and what he'd been through. “What do you have against him? I get the feeling you