Do You Want to Know a Secret? (20 page)

“Surveys have found that the average age for a girl in the United States of America to have sexual intercourse for the first time is sixteen. The average age for a boy is fifteen and a half. It is also estimated that two and a half million teenagers are infected with sexually transmitted diseases each year.”

Eliza thought of Janie, thankful that her daughter was so young. She hated these scary stats.

“Studies have also shown that sixty percent of American high school seniors have used illegal drugs. Some of those drugs are injected.”

Wingard paused to let his words sink in.

“We needn’t be rocket scientists, ladies and gentlemen, to figure it out. We have got to do something. Individually, like the people here at Miracle House who help those infected with AIDS and their families get through the most difficult of times. And we have to do something, collectively, as a nation. That’s why today I am announcing the formation of the AIDS Parade for Dollars.

“The AIDS Parade for Dollars is modeled after the March of Dimes, which Franklin Roosevelt established in 1938 to combat the scourge of that day—polio.

“Though just pulling out of the Depression and immersed in the effort of the Second World War, Americans sent what they could. Many times a quarter or a dime. But the dimes marching to the White House added up. Eventually $675 million was collected. Those dimes paid for the research that led to the Salk and Sabin polio vaccines in the 1950s. Polio has been virtually eliminated.

“We have to make this a national priority. If every man, woman and child donated just one dollar, we’d have over 250 million dollars, and be that much closer to finding a way to rid ourselves of this terrifying plague.

“When I get to the White House, I will do all I can to increase federal funding for AIDS research. But we have no time to waste. Scientists continue their search for a vaccine, but researchers agree that developing a vaccine is much tougher than originally thought. We must get busy on it today. Each of us can make a difference.”

Wingard looked out at the news crowd. “I might add that all of you are in particularly strong places to make impacts. I hope you will use your positions to do some good. Any questions?”

“What will be the mechanism for the collection of donations?” asked the Associated Press reporter.

“At this point, a simple mailing address, which will be handed out at the end of this news conference.”

“Senator, why are you coming out for this particular cause at this particular time?”

Eliza thought she detected a trace of annoyance in Wingard’s face as he glanced down at the podium and fiddled with the edge of his note paper. “Because as I’ve traveled this country, I’ve been very moved by some very personal stories of individuals with AIDS and the pain and suffering it is causing them, their families and all those who love them. We are seeing AIDS babies, the offspring of AIDS-infected mothers and fathers. These babies lose their parents and then face the prospect of dying of AIDS themselves. The statistics spotlight the potential magnitude of this thing. The teenage stats in particular are frightening. We’ve already had too many lives cut short. I don’t want to see any more lost promise in America.

“We can’t stand by and assume that the government is going to make it go away. We’ve got to take matters into our own hands, too. We’ve got to do
our
part. AIDS is pressing. AIDS is urgent. Finding a cure must be a national priority.”

The questions went on for a while. After Senator Wingard left the podium, aides distributed the press releases with the Washington, D.C., post office box address for the AIDS Parade for Dollars donations.

“Smart or stupid?” asked Mary Cate as she and Eliza rode back to the studio.

“I say smart. It’s an important issue. Even those who are disgusted by the subject are realizing that it isn’t going away and they can’t keep their heads in the sand.”

“But he’s already out in front. Why risk the controversy?”

“Think about it. At this point, it really isn’t all that controversial. Wingard comes out and tries to do something constructive about a horrible disease. Who is going to fault him for that? Actually, it’s a pretty damn smart thing to do. He looks like a leader, willing to take up something that no one has had the guts to really take on before.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Notice the FDR tie-in?”

“Yup. I can see the stories tonight. Wingard talking about the AIDS Parade for Dollars, followed by a little video history lesson on Roosevelt and the March of Dimes. The very presidential connection is made to the viewing audience. Masterstroke.”

Chapter 38

Eliza prepared for
Senator Haines Wingard’s interview, knowing that she would be questioning a sure candidate for the presidency.

She sat at her computer terminal in her
KEY to America
office. Bill Kendall’s diskette was inserted into the machine. She wanted to find something that she might be able to use to elicit an emotional response from Wingard, but Bill’s notes were not providing what Eliza needed.

She searched the computer screen reading what Bill had written.

Aside from politics, Wingard’s passion runs to sports . . . He is a crazed Michigan State basketball fan, and tries to attend as many games as possible each season. Summer vacations are spent at this family’s home on Lake Michigan, where sailing and golf are his favorite pastimes.

While Joy has tried to get him interested in subtler theater and art, Wingard prefers popular show tunes and Grandma Moses paintings. (Not to put down Grandma.)

In fact, most of the Wingards’ free time (what little there is of it) does not appear to be spent together.

Childless, after several miscarriages, the couple’s main focus has been Wingard’s career. Joy attends all obligatory events, conducting herself appropriately, eyes on the candidate, nodding at the right times, applauding, smiling, etc. A certain lack of spontaneity and enthusiasm detected at times.

Just great. I’ll ask him, “Senator, what’s the deal between you and your wife?” That should really get him to open up, thought Eliza.

Ask about the mole.

Eliza caught her breath. The mole? What did Bill mean by that?

Bill had gone on to list congressional bills that Wingard had been unsuccessful in getting passed. The list was short.

The guy was a dream candidate. There didn’t seem to be anything to get him on. No miscalculations, no misspeaks, no apparent skeletons.

Eliza switched off the computer, uncrossed her long legs, stood and stretched. Wingard was scheduled to come to KEY this afternoon. Rarely had she been this anxious about an interview. She so wanted to get this right, to have her first Triple P be a standout. She knew she was being watched and it was important to show she was up to the job.

She had decided to focus first on Wingard’s history, the theory being that you can tell a lot about a person by what he has been through and how he has responded. Not that people who had it relatively easy couldn’t accomplish great things, but it seemed to Eliza that adversity was a great motivator.

She would ask about the childlessness.

Then Eliza thought she would concentrate on Wingard’s hopes and aspirations. Her colleagues were already grilling him well on the issues and following his every campaign utterance. Eliza enjoyed discussing the less concrete. She would, to a large degree, take her cues from the candidate, picking up on what he expressed as most important to him, pulling out more when she could.

She had her questions typed on index cards which she took with her into the makeup room. She wanted to go over them one more time before the candidate arrived. Lucille was waiting for her and complimented Eliza on her cream-colored suit, which was elegant in its simplicity. Eliza wore it well, her tall, willowy frame a designer’s dream. Eliza sat patiently as Lucille painted the canvas of Eliza’s face. Her wide-set blue eyes were fringed with dark thick lashes. Her straight, delicate nose was already sprinkled with a few freckles, the result of time spent with Janie in the park in the spring sun. Her mouth was full enough that Lucille did not have to pencil it larger.

When Lucille finished with the blush, lipstick and eye pencil, Eliza felt even better prepared to take on Senator Wingard. She looked good and she knew it.

Eliza had decided to meet Wingard in the KEY lobby, greeting him as he arrived. She was well aware that some correspondents might play the head game of showing up after the interviewee, flexing some mental muscle by keeping the subject waiting. Eliza felt that didn’t play. It could create adversarial tension right away. Instead, Eliza had found the old adage to be true. When she could, she used honey.

Wingard’s black limousine pulled up in front of the broadcast center. Secret Service agents were in place on the sidewalk and inside the lobby. One agent opened the car door and out popped the balding head of Nate Heller followed closely by the senator.

Presence. He’s got it, Eliza thought, observing the usually unimpressed KEY workers clustered in the lobby craning for a look at the handsome candidate. She inhaled as she walked over to the heavy revolving door. Wingard pushed through, his spare hand buttoning his jacket.

“Eliza! It’s great to see you. I saw you in the audience at Miracle House the other morning.”

She extended her right hand and the senator shook it firmly, his white teeth flashing in a disarming smile.

“Yes, and the time before that was when you came on our show the morning after you won the New Hampshire primary. Things have certainly been going your way, haven’t they?”

Wingard nodded with just the right touch of humility in his face. He gestured to his campaign manager. “You remember Nate Heller.”

“Yes,” said Eliza, smiling and shaking Nate’s hand. “We met in New Hampshire.”

As they walked, Eliza proceeded to explain that the taping would be done in the interview room. The room would look to viewers to be a cozy, well-stocked library, but was in fact a large closet with two chairs and fake wooden bookshelves full of discarded books. Camera angles could do amazing things.

Nate stood wedged in the corner of the tiny room and watched Win and Eliza as they sat and the soundman clipped tiny microphones to their suit jackets. Eliza glanced at her index cards. Wingard got a quick powder and spray from Lucille.

They began.

“As the saying goes, Senator, tell me about your childhood.”

“Well, Eliza, as you already know, I was born and raised in Michigan. My family was financially secure and I’ve come to realize that I had many advantages. Advantages that I took for granted as a kid.”

“What kinds of advantages?”

Win didn’t have to stop to consider. He reeled off his answer. “Unlike so many kids growing up in America today, not only did I have the necessities of life, a place to live, enough to eat, clothes to wear, but my parents were able to afford things like vacations, educational travel, entertainment, private music lessons, things that I would like all American children to have.”

“Surely, no one is going to disagree with you on that.” Eliza’s voice softened. “Senator, you and Mrs. Wingard have been unable to have a child of your own. How would you say that has affected your outlook?”

“You know, Eliza, it really hasn’t been that big a deal. Yes, we wanted children of our own. But Joy and I have accepted the fact that it’s not to be. I choose to use the energy that would have been given to a child to further the cause of children in our country. I want American children to have every possible advantage.”

An alarm went off in Eliza’s head. Not a big deal? That didn’t make sense. She knew from a series on infertility that she had worked on that not being able to have children of your own if you really wanted them was extremely painful for men as well as women. It made sense that it would hurt. A lot. Psychologists said the loss of the idea of having a biological baby had to be mourned, like a death. That’s what it was, a death of a dream. People who had been through it said it caused pain for years. They went on, but they never got over it completely. Not that big a deal?