Mrs. Maverick

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She disputes the standard separate-lives narrative of the McCain marriage, though there have been signs of tension in the past. They decided to raise their children in Arizona, she says, because her roots there were deep and they could give the kids a normal childhood. He was home every weekend, she says, and now she's urgent, insistent: "I want people to understand, he was not a father who was from afar. He was very involved with his kids and in our relationship. I felt like we saw more of him by living out in Arizona because when he was home, he was dedicated to us."

McCain's political operation has such a smell of a band of brothers in the foxhole that it's hard to imagine Cindy, or anyone else, breaking in. But she says that when it really counts, she's the only one in the room. "I know the one person he trusts the most is me," she says. "And so when it comes right down to it, particularly in the job we're doing now, we have to rely on each other." So as he made a final decision on a running mate, would it come down to just the two of them in the room? She gives a small smile and nods.

But you get the clear sense that Cindy's chief influence is not with his campaign but with their kids. During an hour-long chat, the cell phone that is her lifeline never leaves her side. She learned to check homework, approve clothing choices and practically administer Band-Aids by cell phone during the 2000 campaign. She has three BlackBerrys and is the family techie, programming the computers and solving problems. Bridget is now 17; Cindy is on the phone with her constantly, as well as with eldest daughter Meghan and sons Jimmy, a Marine who returned from deployment in Iraq in February, and Jack, who will be a senior at the Naval Academy. They too will be stepping out in Minneapolis for the first time, along with McCain's three children from his first marriage.

It's just one of those fateful twists that John McCain now finds himself in the same position his father was in, she notes, when Admiral John S. McCain Jr. was commander in chief of U.S. forces in the Pacific, ordering bombing runs on Hanoi as his son was being held prisoner there. "Now, my husband is not calling the shots in this war, but he's very involved, obviously, in what the strategy is and shaping American policy toward it. With that said, at the same time, his son is in Iraq. So yes, it's very personal for me."

Cindy's father, whom she revered, was a World War II bomber pilot who was shot down three times over the English Channel. Her husband survived being shot down over Hanoi. Listening to her talk, you get the sense that she's every bit the warrior too, with her own discipline, her own mission, her own scars. (Her wrist is in a soft cast—some of the bones are fused—because of injuries made worse by fans who shook her hand too enthusiastically.) "I want my sons led by a Commander in Chief who understands what it means to send young men and women into combat—and more importantly, how to bring them home." That's been enough to keep her in the trenches—even when she's the one coming under fire.