A Book of American Martyrs(126)

For Edna Mae insisted. Dawn had not been able to say no.

It was September 13. National Day of Remembrance for Preborn Infants Murdered by Abortion.

Twenty-three volunteers from the Mad River Junction Pentecostal Church of Christ would travel by bus to Cleveland for the vigil, and for the burials in consecrated soil. A number of chartered buses were to bring volunteers from right-to-life congregations through Ohio and West Virginia.

The Trucrosses did not advise bringing children to the vigil and burial in Cleveland. Edna Mae insisted that her circumstances were special and that her children must participate.

The scales will fall from their eyes and their eyes will be opened.

Edna Mae Dunphy had become a vehement woman! In this new season of her life she was suffused with energy like sunlight streaming through a rent in a thundercloud. Like moisture sucked into a living stalk that explodes into riotous bloom. She’d had her tangled hair that was the color of broom sage cut so that it fitted her head like a cap of waves and wan curls. She’d gone to the dentist—a trip dreaded and feared for years—and had several cavities filled. The last time she’d felt a yearning to take pills Jesus had struck them from her hand and they’d scattered onto a damp bathroom floor and she’d knelt whimpering and begging No no no please but the pills had been so wetted they had dissolved between her fingers and she could only lick her fingers in desperation like a dog despite bits of grit and hairs in the wetted pill-substance and during these minutes of degradation Jesus had stood at a little distance observing her coldly and Edna Mae had known herself broken in utter shame lifting her eyes to His and vowing Never again, Jesus. You have shown me the way, the truth and the light.

And so it was. She did not return to any doctor to beg for pills. Instead in times of weakness she stumbled outside into the harsh cold air and cast her eyes skyward seeking help that never failed to come to her.

Thank you Jesus!

On dark mornings Jesus roused her from bed.

A fierce power raged through her veins that was the very blood of Jesus. Many in the Pentecostal church remarked upon this change in Luther Dunphy’s formerly meek and sickly wife with awe and admiration.

Reverend Ben Trucross could attest to the transformation in Edna Mae Dunphy. At first progress had been slow—not so sure. Then suddenly, Edna Mae had seen the light. And the light had shone out of her eyes. Merri Trucross had encouraged Edna Mae to come swimming with her and several other Pentecostal women at the YWCA and these sessions had worked out so well that Edna Mae sometimes went swimming there by herself—walked into town, a distance of more than a mile, in slacks, sweatshirt, sneakers and carrying a nylon gym bag. (Luke had seen his mother striding along South Street one morning and had almost not recognized her. Was that Edna Mae? With her hair cut, and walking with such purpose? Carrying a gym bag? So surprised, Luke had almost run the county road-repair truck he was driving into another vehicle.) At the YWCA she’d seen on a wall a list of courses offered at Farloe Community College and next day enrolled in a nurse’s aide program with the intention of updating her certificate.

She’d been such an eager student, nearly twenty years before! Now, she could summon back only a residue of that eagerness yet (Jesus assured her) it would be enough to carry her through.

For Edna Mae would have to start supporting her family, she knew. Anita and Noah at least.

On the morning of September 13 the young children were groggy being awakened before dawn. It had been particularly difficult to rouse Noah, who flailed at Edna Mae in his sleep. Had they forgotten that today was the day of the “pilgrimage” to Cleveland? Edna Mae had told them only that many from their new church were going and that it would be a day they would remember for the rest of their lives.

“We are living the shallow life of the world. We are like people with our eyes shut, sleepwalking. But the scales will fall from our eyes and we shall see.”

The children touched their eyes. Scales?

Immortality suffused her veins. Jesus had taught Edna Mae Dunphy to raise the dead—the dead that was her.

It was the taste of her new life. It was not the ashes taste with which she had endured for so long.

Dawn was alarmed that their mother now spoke with such emotion, and something like a schoolteacher’s certainty, you could not comprehend what she might mean. She hoped that something terrible would not happen in Cleveland which was sixty-five miles from Mad River Junction for Edna Mae had been saying for days that they would remember what happened there for the rest of their lives.

There was something ominous in this. Edna Mae had even been on the telephone making plans—Edna Mae, who had not willingly spoken on the phone in years . . .

Dawn had only a vague idea what was planned. Prayer vigil? Burials? Holy innocents?

Badly Dawn wanted to stay in Mad River Junction. Her two days off from Home Depot she’d planned to use for a private purpose. Yet, she could not let Anita and Noah go alone with their mother on this mysterious trip that required staying away overnight—being “put up” in the homes of strangers.

And how unlike Edna Mae this was, to wish to spend time with strangers. Even Christian Pentecostal strangers.

Dawn had promised her father that she would help take care of the younger children. Luther had extracted such a promise from both Dawn and Luke at the time of his arrest but Luke had broken the promise and left his sister behind.

Fuck you then, I am strong enough. I can do it by myself.