A Book of American Martyrs(101)

“If I was trained, I’d know better what to do. They use their ‘jab’—see?” Dawn jabbed with her left arm, fiercely.

Just holding her arm in such a way, and “jabbing”—it did feel like an effort. Just in a second or two her arm felt heavy.

Luke sneered: “Y’think Mawmaw would let you show yourself half-naked in some little T-shirt and shorts—in public? Or him?”

All the time now it seemed, Luke referred to their father as him. Since the arrest when they’d taken him away to the detention it was rare for Luke to speak of Daddy, or my father.

This was so disrespectful! It just made Dawn feel sad, when talk turned onto him.

“Anyway,” Luke said, “it’s against what Jesus teaches. ‘Turn the other cheek.’”

You’d have thought that Luke was joking. But Luke never joked about Jesus. He’d told Dawn that Reverend Dennis had taken him aside, after their father was arrested, and said now that their father was away—“for a while, we don’t know how long”—it was up to Luke to take his place, as best he could. It would be a time of trial for them all, not just the Dunphys but also their friends and neighbors and the church congregation, all put to the test. Terrible things would be said to them and of them but they must not weaken and lower themselves to the level of their enemies who hated Jesus.

“‘Turn the other cheek is the hardest test a Christian must face’”—Luke spoke in a way strangulated with emotion and with fury, you could not have said which.


JESUS WALKED BESIDE HER. Climbing the Depot Street hill she would realize he was with her, with a little shock. For Jesus was so quiet.

Alone and feeling sorry for herself like some sniveling silly girl and there came Jesus at her left side, for always it was her left side, where there was some cloudiness in the edge of her vision; and Jesus would nudge her left arm light as a curtain stirred in the breeze and say in his gentle voice Rejoice rejoice! and she would say Oh—why? and Jesus would say Because this day you shall be with me in paradise. In that instant all doubt and suspicion melted away and it was like long ago before her father was taken from them and before Daphne was taken from them and they’d never seen their baby sister again.

These were words like music. These were words she’d heard at church on Good Friday. At the time of hearing she had not fully comprehended the words for anything at church gave her trouble to comprehend, any public utterances, meant for others to hear and so floating over her head. For somehow she found it difficult to concentrate when others were around, it was like riding in a car—someone was driving, but it was not you; so you didn’t pay attention to where you were going.

Luke had his license and was driving the car. Not Edna Mae, not often now. And Luke was a skilled driver, maneuvering into a parking place, backing up the car in cautious little surges as if he’d been driving all his life.

Now he’d quit school Luke had a job with the county. This meant outdoor work repairing and clearing roads, cleaning up storm debris, snow removal. If it wasn’t for tax deductions he’d have made very good money. Dawn was disappointed, her brother moved out of Aunt Mary Kay’s house as soon as he could.

Because this day. With me in Paradise.

Meaning that Dawn Dunphy was singled out for some special reason as Luther Dunphy had been singled out. The choice had been made and was out of her hands.

Still she had to ask if her father would come back home soon?—and Jesus whispered to her Your father will come back home when there is a home for him. Pray.


OUR FATHER who art in Heaven.

She began to pray as soon as she woke in the morning. Falling asleep at night was stepping down stairs and each step a prayer until the bottom step just—vanished!

She would not take the school bus with her young sister Anita and her young brother Noah. She preferred to walk to her school—two miles each way. Her hard hoof-feet bore her urgently forward. Her muscled thighs grew ever harder, stronger. And as she walked, she prayed. Each step—right step, left step—and each step a prayer. And each square of pavement a prayer. (But she must never step on cracks in the sidewalk, that nullified all the prayers preceding.) Approaching the new school which was Mad River Junction Middle School she dared not look up (to see who might be watching her) but had to concentrate fiercely on the pavement riddled with a network of cracks. For even the smallest crack had the power of nullification and mockery of the Lord.

Ringing bells in the corridors hurt her ears. Here too was mockery if you listened closely.

The first day at the new school she’d had to go alone. For Edna Mae had to take the younger children to the elementary school and Aunt Mary Kay had to work at Walmart—her workday began at 4:00 A.M. in the stockroom. Of course Dawn Dunphy was registered at the new school—(Aunt Mary Kay had seen to that)—so it was just a matter of returning to the school on a Monday morning. But something like a hawk’s talons gripped her heart, icy-cold, soon as she pushed inside the front door of the building, so she had to turn back blindly, and flee; and the next day she got a little farther, to the doorway of the “homeroom” to which she’d been assigned, and then again she had to flee, for she could not breathe; but the third day she managed to get inside the room, staring at the floor, panting and shivering, and the homeroom teacher known to her as Miss Schine spoke gently to her—“You are—Dawn? Dawn Dunphy? Welcome!”