The Pastor's Wife (7 page)

Matthew believed he'd made an advancement in his career when he secured a position as youth minister at the Central Church of Christ in McMinnville, Tennessee, in 2002. When he applied for the job, a church elder informed him that they expected he'd step up to the pulpit minister position when their current preacher left in two or three years. Matthew accepted the offer with his eye on the ultimate prize—one day in the near future, having his own church.

McMinnville, heralded as the Nursery Capital of the World for its vast plant and tree industry, and hometown of country and western star Dottie West, had a population of more than 13,000 when Matthew and Mary moved there with their two little girls. Matthew's new employer, the Central Church of Christ, was housed in a building constructed in 1928 on the grounds of the original old courthouse at the corner of Morford and College Streets. Just a short walk away, down sidewalks lined with old brick buildings, a small city park stood, filled with century-old stately maples, graceful elms, a sparkling fountain and an abundance of flowers in the spring and summer.

They bought an $85,000 home on Franklin Street. Once again, when they moved, Mary was pregnant. This time, however, she was not as far along and the pregnancy ended in miscarriage late in the first trimester.

They quickly became friends with an older couple across the street, Bob and Evon Dennis. Bob and Evon
were Baptists, but that never interfered with the relationship between the two couples. In fact, Bob and Matt engaged in frequent, friendly debates on theological issues.

Evon enjoyed the energetic and perky Mary Winkler, but was especially drawn to the two little girls. She had her own grandchildren, but they were all boys. Patricia and Allie became surrogate granddaughters. Evon doted on them, remembering them with gifts every Christmas and birthday.

She loved watching them at play outside the house. When they spotted her, they'd stop, wave and yell greetings across the street. “They were both sweet girls—small and adorable. Patricia was very talkative. Allie was quieter.”

Matthew and Mary were always on the run. Matt's position as youth minister required him to be away from home quite often in the summer as he took trips with the teenagers in his care. Year round, he had evening and weekend activities with them, and frequently entertained groups in his home.

Matthew faced a big challenge at Central Church of Christ. His predecessor had had a very lax demeanor, more interested in being friends with the teenagers than their mentor. He'd made no rules, set no boundaries and provided no structure. Matthew got the kids and the program back into shape.

Matthew could be stern and authoritative at times, but he kept them from losing control without being bossy. The teens appreciated always knowing where they stood with him and what he expected of them. Most of them looked up to him as an energizing and inspiring Christian leader. There were two or three teens who bumped heads with him, but that was to be expected when working with adolescents.

Mary pitched in with Matt's meetings and activities, and often ran errands for the youth group. She found the energy to visit with the house bound elderly church members and to sit with the sick. She made birthday cards on the computer and sent them out to all the church members.
She cared for two children and her home as well as working part-time, first at Super D drug store, and later at the post office, where she was a valued employee. The pharmacy owner, Donald Sullivan, wrote, “She was a very reliable and dependable employee that worked well with other employees and was well liked by our customers.”

Bob and Evon, like many of the neighbors on Franklin Street, saw Mary and Matthew as loving and hard-working, and excellent role models for the other married couples. But Mary recalled it as a challenging time.

In August that first summer, Mary played catcher on the church softball team. At one point, a ball careened off a bat and hit her in the face, leaving a distinct bruise. She didn't go to the doctor.

Later that week, according to Mary, Matthew was shouting at her for some perceived wrong-doing when he knocked something off a table. Mary bent down to pick it up, and, she would later allege, Matthew kicked her in the face. She said that was when her face really started to hurt.

A week later, the lightest touch caused excruciating pain. Finally, Mary visited her physician. In his office, Mary explained the softball injury. She never mentioned any physical abuse from her husband. The doctor never suspected anything was amiss with Mary's story.

Soon after that incident, Mary confronted Matthew. “I want a divorce,” she said.

“Absolutely not.”

“I can't take it anymore, Matthew.”

“A divorce will not be allowed.”

“You tell me I'm fat, my hair isn't right. If something goes wrong with the girls, it's my fault. If it rains, it's my fault. I've got to get out of here.”

“If you leave, I'll come and get you.”

In 2003, Matthew got the opportunity to earn additional money by teaching Bible classes at the Boyd Christian School. This private institution covered all levels of lower education from pre-kindergarten through the twelfth grade. Students received Bible instruction each school day.

The goal of the state-accredited school was to provide a quality education with more course offerings than available in public schools, and to do so in a more disciplined and safer environment. All high-schoolers studied a college preparatory curriculum. The school did not offer alternative paths, like technical or business, for a diploma. In addition to their education, the faculty fostered the students' spiritual development and growth.

Matthew was a welcome addition to the school. His students called him “Wink” and, although they knew he demanded that they study hard and behave, he also brought a lot of fun into the classroom. He was a creative and engaging teacher.

He got along well with the staff, too. Linda Love, an English, Journalism and foreign language teacher, said that he was a charismatic man, and a loving and doting father. She told
The Jackson Sun
, “Every time he talked, he had something positive to say about the kids, something positive to say about his family. He often commented on the girls, Patricia and Allie. He would tell about cute things they did.” She added that he was always true to himself and
never put on airs. “He had such a young heart, but an old soul.”

She believed the Winkler couple had a wonderful relationship. She recalled Matthew and Mary trading affectionate looks on the General Jackson Showboat on the Cumberland River at a Christmas party sponsored by Super D drug store. “They seemed very loving, very close. It was a chilly night and I saw him wrap his coat around her.”

Robert Jefferies, minister of the Smyrna Church of Christ in McMinnville, had a high opinion of Matthew and his relationship with his wife, too. Matthew worked with his congregation on several occasions, earning their affection and respect. He remembered once arriving at the Winkler home with Matthew. “We had come over just as she was getting ready to head back out to work,” he told reporter Tonya Smith-King. “They hugged and kissed one another goodbye.”

The older congregants at Central Church of Christ didn't have as much contact with Matthew as the younger ones did. Nonetheless, many had fond memories of his years at the church. Unlike some youth ministers, Matthew had time and a kind word for everyone.

Some people, though, saw another side of Matthew. Lori Boyd, the church secretary for part of Matthew's tenure at Central, worked at the main desk. Matthew's office was down a narrow hallway. At first, she felt he was extremely nice, but as time went by, she said, he became “mentally and emotionally berating and demanding, and hard to work with.” She felt he looked down on her.

Matthew obviously was not satisfied with her job performance. He'd order her to do certain tasks. When she made excuses, he said, “You will have this done when I say so.”

Lori was also aware of a “strained tension” in the office when Mary dropped by the church. Most of the time, she could not hear the words spoken between the two, but she could hear the sound of a deep rumbling voice echoing up the hall and she thought that it was filled with anger.

Mary frequently brought a fast food lunch to share with Matthew. Lori noticed a number of times that when Mary left the building, her lunch remained untouched on Matthew's desk. On one occasion, she heard Matthew say, “You're getting a little larger than you need to be. You don't need to have this food, Mary.”

Lori was appalled. She confronted Matthew after Mary left. “Those are things I was hoping you wouldn't say to your wife. You're a man of God. You are supposed to be a leader of us. And you are supposed to lead by example.”

There was another thing about Matthew that bothered Lori. As with many married working couples, Matthew and Mary's employment schedules overlapped from time to time. When that happened, Matthew brought Patricia and Allie to the church with him. If he had to leave on business, he locked the two girls in his office. Lori thought that the girls should go downstairs to the day care center to play with children there, or be allowed to roam the offices spending time with her and the pulpit minister. But Matthew justified locking them in by saying, “I want my kids to be safe.”

Jonathan Allen, a member of Matthew's youth group, had nothing but praise for Matthew in his ministerial role. He did, however, recall Matthew yelling at Mary, but never heard Mary yell back at him. He noticed that Mary always seemed to do everything Matthew told her to do.

Congregant Rudy Thomsen said that his respect for Matthew faded one Sunday. He and his wife Kathy were sitting in the pews waiting for the start of morning worship service when Matthew, Mary and the girls entered the sanctuary. Mary had a black eye. This concerned Rudy enough that he asked Mary about it.

Mary said, “I was horsing around with the girls and one of them jabbed me in the eye with her elbow.”

Rudy was skeptical of her response, but gave her the benefit of the doubt until one day at a church supper. Mary was in the fellowship hall flitting from table to table, smiling and chatting with everyone she met. Then, Matthew
entered the room. Mary stopped talking, hung her head and took her seat, Rudy said. From that moment on, he no longer believed Mary's explanation for her black eye. He wondered just what was going on behind the preacher's closed doors.

Another person wondering was Paul Pillow, one of the owners of Cleaners Express, a business patronized by Mary. He said that in doing business together, his friendship grew with Mary over time, as it did with many of his regular customers. Although he enjoyed his interactions with her, he said that there was an unsettling nervous ness about Mary. “She always seemed to be looking over her shoulder.”

Mary often brought in the comforter from her bed with blood on it. She blamed her part-poodle, part-Maltese dog for the stain. He told her that she was going to have to keep the dog off of the bed. “Mary, you're going to wear this thing out cleaning it so much.”

Mary chuckled and Paul laughed along with her. In retrospect, he wondered if there was a more sinister explanation. But at the time, the thought never crossed his mind.

He was privy to one family secret unbecoming of a minister and his wife. Mary was a secret smoker. Matthew dipped and chewed. Mary picked up her cigarettes and Matt's Skoal at a store where she thought she wouldn't be recognized.

Another person who didn't share in the admiration most had for Matthew was Sergeant Jimmy Jones of the Tennessee Highway Patrol. He moved into the neighborhood when his grandmother, a sixty-year resident of Franklin Street, was in poor health.

On August 19, 2003, it appeared that the end was near. Family started gathering at her home. Mary came over to check on his 92-year-old grandmother, as she often did. Later, he was standing outside with some family members, when he noticed Matthew moving in their direction. He thought, at first, that this man of the cloth was coming over
to inquire about his grandmother, too. But, as Matthew crossed the street, he appeared upset.

Matthew stepped into the yard, but did not approach the group. He stood at a distance, waving his arms and shouting about the barking of a small dog that was keeping him awake. Jimmy was distressed by Matthew's behavior at this delicate time. He later nicknamed him “the Tasmanian Devil.” Jimmy's grandmother passed away the next day.

But Evon and Bob, who saw a lot of the Winklers, never sensed that anything was amiss. Even looking back, they can't spot a single red flag.

In March of 2004, Matthew's plan for the future fizzled out. Despite assurances made to him when he came to McMinnville, he was not promoted to the pulpit minister position. The church elders hired Timothy Parish to fill that vacancy. Matthew was disappointed and angry. He started the hunt for a pastoral position elsewhere in Tennessee.

That summer, an opportunity arose at the Fourth Street Church of Christ in Selmer. After an initial interview, the church invited him back for a second one and asked him to bring his wife. The elders talked to the two of them together and liked them both. Matthew's name made it to the short list for consideration.

Despite Matthew's bitterness over the recent developments at Central Church of Christ, he and Mary continued to invite members of the church to their children's parties. For Allie's fifth birthday in July and Patricia's seventh in September, church members, young and old, packed their house and spilled out into the yard.

That year, Evon and Bob decided to downsize from their huge, tall Christmas tree to a more manageable table-top model with built-in lights. They gave their old tree and lights to Matthew and Mary. Bob drove it over in the back of his pick-up truck, dropping it on the carport when no one was at home.

A few days before Christmas, Bob and Evon looked out their window to the other side of the street. To their de
light, they saw their old tree festooned with lights, on display in the picture window of the Winklers' home. They spent a lot of time that holiday season pausing to look over at it, reminiscing about Christmases past.

This holiday, the neighbors gave both Patricia and Allie big stuffed dogs. The girls weren't home when they were delivered, but as soon as they saw Evon and Bob, they ran across the street to thank them for the presents.

The extended Winkler family planned to celebrate Christmas Day in mountain cabins in Gatlinburg. To make it affordable for Matthew and his family, Dan and Diane paid for half the cost of their cabin.

One evening as they sat before a blazing fire playing checkers, Matthew and Mary told the others about Matthew's adverse reactions to a prescription for tooth pain in Pegram and another caused by a drug for his stomach in McMinnville.

Mary laughed about it, saying, “We sure don't want to be giving him them anymore.”

 

Matthew received an offer to serve as pulpit minister from Fourth Street Church of Christ in Selmer, Tennessee. At last, he was going to have his own congregation. He tendered his resignation at Central Church of Christ and Boyd Christian School. To add to the good news, Mary was pregnant again.

Matthew talked with his fellow school faculty members about the exciting new developments in his life. He pointed to his Nissan Maxima in the parking lot and said, “Well, I'm going to have to trade in my car for a mini-van. It's finally happened. I've become one of
those
dads,” he laughed.

According to Mary, though, a visit to the doctor's office took away his joyful anticipation. Matthew, Patricia and Allie crowded into the examination room for Mary's ultra-sound. The results dashed Matthew's hopes. “The Winklers always had boys. Here I am with girls.”

Mary knew by the way he looked at her that he placed
the blame for this predicament on her. She fought off tears.

 

Evon went to the jewelry store two weeks before the Winklers' scheduled departure to Selmer and bought a gold ring with a birthstone for each of the two girls. The night before the move, she invited the family over for dinner. They gave the girls the rings and told them to “remember us when you wear them.” They presented Matthew a book of Bible commentary and Mary a night gown and a baby gift. Mary was now eight months pregnant—once again, just in time for a move.

The next day, two trucks sent by Fourth Street Church of Christ pulled up to the Winklers' house. Movers packed and loaded the family's possessions. When they pulled out of Franklin Street, one of the trucks towed one of the family cars. Matthew, Mary, the two girls and two dogs climbed into the other car. Before they drove off, Evon stopped them, handing over a bag filled with peanut butter crackers, hunks of cake, and other snacks for the road. She was going to miss those girls.

The Winklers drove southwest, passing through Lynchburg, Tennessee, and its Jack Daniel's distillery. Then in Fayetteville, they headed due west past the town of McBurg and Chicken Creek Road. All along the drive, they passed one Church of Christ after another—a reminder of the obvious presence of that form of worship in Tennessee.

They went up and down hills, past rolling fields and thick clusters of tall trees. They crossed into Lawrence County and into Lawrenceburg. Just outside of the city limits, they drove past David Crockett State Park, on the land where Crockett once operated a water-powered grist mill, powder mill and distillery.

Then, they zoomed onward to the Tennessee River. Soon after crossing it, they entered McNairy County and headed to their new home in the county seat of Selmer.