Secrets of the West Texas Saint

One Christmas I found myself in a west Texas town where the sky’s expanse was wider than the narrow people that lived there. It was a town of dusty religion and “bless her heart” gossips that made society especially prickly for the family I married into.

Not directly, of course, salacious rumors where never verified they were simply inflated by every beauty salon and southern kitchen all over town.

As it turned out, this rumor was true. The good doctor, one of the only ones in town, had been sleeping with his youthful secretary for a number of years but the poor woman he was married to just happen to be my mother in-law.

She knew of course, everyone knew. Their glossy next door neighbors knew, their capricious friends knew, even the cashier at the Pick n’ Save knew what wasn’t happening behind their closed doors.

Even though my mother in-law was aware of all the hushed finger-pointing she still got up every day, put on her pearls, her conservative dress, her expensive hat and walked out into the society that talked behind her back.

No one, least of all me, knew why she stayed with the doctor. Some figured it was the money, some figured it was the status, some thought that she still loved him and couldn’t help herself. I never asked and no one ever talked about it because it was supposed to be a secret and my mother in-law was great at keeping secrets.

The doctor was always away, he rarely came home, but his good wife hushed his behavior all the same. “He is working, he is delivering a baby, he is at the hospital;” she informed her children whenever he didn’t materialize at the dinner table. With a smile that could melt butter she excused her husband even though she knew he was with her, the other woman that filled his days and nights but wasn’t the one that raised his children or ran his home.

I wondered what my mother in-law had in her life that was worth living for. Her children were all grown and gone; she didn’t have many social occupations to speak of. What did she do to fill the void that so obviously left a gaping hole in her life? I wondered all these things as I looked out the window of the doctor’s house. I had spent the afternoon alone in the ranch sized home because my wife had gone out with her sisters to do some last minute shopping. The doctor was predictably away and my mother in-law was at the store.

When her big Cadillac car drove up I rushed out into the snow to help her unload the bags. She had been gone a while but there were only a few bags in the back seat.

“Pop the trunk and I’ll get the rest,” I called to her through the falling snow.

“Oh, dear-“her lacy voice said as she rolled down her window. “I thought you had gone shopping with the girls?” A tint of startle masked her cornflower blue eyes.

“No-not today,” I said. “Let me help you with the bags.” I scurried around to the back of the car and opened the trunk where there was a full load of bags.

“No, dear, not those; those stay there,” she said admitted as if being discovered.

“What are you going to do with all that food?” I asked.

“Well, now, I suppose I will have to show you,” she said with resignation. “Climb on in.”

I opened the passenger door and sat in the leathery luxury car. The Cadillac was as immaculate as her house. Ever the prepared woman, my mother in-law kept tiny red and white candies in the cup holder and a box of issues in the console for their anticipated use.

Peppermint and perfume; her familiar scent filled my nostrils while the heater warmed my cold caked sneakers. Billy Holiday’s dreamy voice lulled around us and we drove away.

The wife of the good doctor took me though the town that night; the town that talked about her, the town that pitied her or shamed her; the town that didn’t really know her. She drove while I wondered why her trunk was filled with enough food to cater a Christmas party.

When we came to the tracks we crossed over to the wrong side. She didn’t comment and I didn’t ask, so we just sat in silence as the car stuck out like a sore thumb. We passed dirty streets lit up by lazy strands of twinkle lights and I watched my mother in-law wave regally to the porch-sitters.

The car rolled to a stop and the craziness began. She knocked on doors that opened to familiar smiles and gave away turkeys, groceries, dinners and Christmas goodies to those who needed it the most. There were no cameras snapping her photo, this wasn’t a charity event, she worked under the cover of night moving throughout the town, blessing it as she went.

Back at the house after the deed was done I sat in the big Cadillac with my mother in-law completely deflated by the injustice of her life. When my wife and sisters in-law came out to meet us I wanted to launch into the lost praises that had never been lavished on her but she stilled my voice with her gently gloved hand on my arm and said, “Let’s make this our little secret.” I nodded blankly.

She was free from any bitterness toward her marriage or even pride for her good deeds. Her genuine smile hung languidly on her face as she exited the car as gracefully as a debutant descending a grand staircase. She greeted her daughters just as if she had just come home from the grocery store and not from improving the lives of others.

My eyes followed all of them inside as I sat motionless in the car and wondered how many times she had done that. How many times had I greeted her without knowing what she had been doing a moment ago? In perfect timing my father in-law pulled up to the house. How many times had he returned home when I knew exactly what he had been doing moments ago? He never smelled like peppermint but he reeked of cheep cologne.

Both of them had secrets, both of them led separate lives but oddly enough in the backward town where they lived the secret that was kept was the one pure as the pearls worn by a woman who deserved better.