Read Do You Want to Know a Secret? Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
Do You Want to Know a Secret? (17 page)
He saw Mack McBride take Eliza’s hand. It annoyed the hell out of him.
From the corner of his eye, he observed the somber faces around him. He had arranged his expression accordingly. It was difficult to feign sorrow, when he was actually pleased. It was even more difficult to keep his mouth shut as everyone had been speculating about why Bill had taken his own life. He chose to keep what he knew to himself, at least for the time being.
Like any newsman, Pete had his sources. He knew why Bill Kendall had wanted to die.
Range Bullock watched
as the gray casket slid into the back of the hearse.
He’d never thought it would end like this. In all the time he and Bill had spent together, Range had never once imagined that his friend was the kind of man who could take his own life.
How close Bill had come to death a few years before! Bill had barely pulled through after that accident they’d had while doing some stories in Eastern Europe.
Range remembered waiting in the pathetic hospital in Bucharest, worrying that he’d be shipping his best friend’s body home. He’d tried to prepare himself psychologically as Bill fought for life.
This time there had been no such mental preparation. No warning.
The hearse door snapped shut and Range turned to join the limousine already carrying Louise and William. He wanted to accompany the body at least to the airport. He wished he could go all the way to Nebraska with Bill, but Yelena had insisted that Range stay and produce the
KEY Evening Headlines
.
Bill would have understood.
Just as Nate
Heller had predicted, Joy Wingard, the candidate’s wife, appeared in the evening news reports of the funeral of Bill Kendall. Nate and Win had been pleased, Win calling from his Senate office just after the story aired.
“Thanks a lot for going today, Joy. I know you weren’t particularly keen on the idea. But your presence there was good exposure for us. You looked great, by the way. I’d also like to think that those journalists noticed you paying your respects. That can’t hurt in the cause of having them on our side.”
“I’m glad I went,” Joy responded quietly. “But don’t think those newspeople could be swayed merely by the candidate’s wife going to the funeral of one of their own. I’m afraid they are a bit too cynical for that.”
“You’re probably right. Still, I’m glad you were there. I caught the evening news. That was quite an event.”
“Oh, Win, it was so sad,” sighed Joy, desperate to let out the emotions of the morning. Bill’s son had looked so lost and bewildered. Joy had ached to go over to the boy.
“I’m sure it was. Joy, I have another call I have to take. I have a few things to wrap up here, I’ll be home around ten.” He was eager to get off the phone.
That’s right, Win. Just tune it out. Don’t let anything in that might hurt a little. You have to give the guy credit, Joy thought as she poured herself a drink. He protects himself. He knows what works for Haines Wingard.
The depression that followed the last miscarriage had been a time of deep introspection. Joy had raked herself over the burning emotional coals. Though it had been an excruciating journey, she had analyzed her life, her motivations and what had led her to that point. She came to realize consciously what she had done and why she had done it.
When she selected Haines Wingard as her husband, Joy had expected that they would have a true partnership. Though she had known going in that Win was focused on his political aspirations, Joy had thought that they’d have a private life as well. Years of repeated excuses, canceled personal plans, and promises made and then broken had left Joy feeling betrayed and alone.
She had gone to Win, telling him that she was unhappy and dissatisfied with the marriage, that she felt a lack of emotional closeness between them. He had looked at her, politely concerned. “Look, you’ve just had a miscarriage. Give it some time. When you get over the mis, you’ll feel better about us,” was his answer.
Joy had immersed herself in charity work and community projects. She spent long hours wandering through Washington’s National Gallery of Art, soothed by the beauty and wonder she found there. Eventually, she did begin to feel better about life. Her thoughts were not always mired in the sadness of losing the baby. She began to feel hopeful about the future. But she still felt estranged from Win. Equally frustrating, Win did not acknowledge her remoteness.
Then she met Bill Kendall.
She went to the back of her closet and pulled out a well-used leather suitcase. From an elasticized compartment inside, she took out her journal, opened it and wrote down her feelings. Then, she braced herself to read Bill’s last letter again. The one that had arrived two days after he died.
Joy shivered. She undressed and took a warm robe and wrapped it around herself. She walked over to the bedside table where her handbag rested. She rummaged through it until she found Bill’s Mass card. She held it, thinking of the funeral. It had been incredibly moving in that place of the Sacred Heart. She wondered how the Cathedral had been selected for Bill’s final ceremony. Had it meant something special to him? He had never mentioned it to her. They hadn’t talked much about religion in their hours together. She concentrated, trying to think back and remember anything he had said about religion or God.
She lay curled on her side on the ivory silk bedspread thinking of Bill, haunted by his suicide. She knew he had been hurt by their breakup. But what else could she have done? It was just too dangerous to continue when her every move was being constantly watched. And Bill himself was not exactly low profile. There had been no choice. Perhaps she and Win had long since lost their emotional connection, but she was not going to blow his chances for the presidency. Or, for that matter, her chance to be first lady. She didn’t love politics, but being the wife of the president of the United States was not something to which many women would say no.
Joy heard the front door close. Moments later, Win was in the bedroom. She answered his questions about who was at the funeral and responded with queries of her own regarding the progress of the day and its effect on the campaign. Win was unaware of her eyes watching him closely as he undressed, so engrossed was he in his recap of the vote on the floor of the Senate. He would remember who had backed his bill and who hadn’t come through for him. But the main thing was, the bill had passed and Senator Haines Wingard had gotten a lot of positive media exposure today.
“And then you showed up in the funeral reports tonight. It was a good day for the Wingard team.”
Win got into bed and immediately put his arms around her, burying his head between her breasts. She stroked his precisely barbered hair. As his mouth covered her nipple, Joy felt a tightening in her throat. She braced herself for what she knew the next few minutes would bring.
The morning sun
forced him to squint to see the monitor.
There she was, talking to him again.
She was standing with a microphone in her hand in front of a building with steps leading up to it.
The homeless man moved a little closer.
Yes. He recognized that building. But it had no knocker.
Why was Eliza Blake telling him to go there? Puzzled, he edged closer still.
Now, Eliza was talking to a man who sat in some sort of office. He concentrated on the man’s face.
Oh. That was it. Eliza told him: “Go and watch this man.”