Vigilantes Pt. 01 of 02

Fortunately, one thing that helped me retain my sanity came from an unlikely source: my daughter. Several days after Rufus's call, she came to me with a request. "Daddy, I want to go to a Lamaze class to learn more about the childbirth process. But I really need a partner and I don't have anyone else to do it. Will you go with me, Daddy?"

Of course I agreed, so a few nights later we found ourselves in a conference room provided at one of the local hospitals. There were about a dozen couples with us, and the women were at various stages of their pregnancies. A couple of them looked so far along to me that they made me nervous something might happen that night!

An attractive red-haired woman who appeared to be a few years younger than I came up to greet us. "Hi, welcome to the Lamaze class. I'm Bridget Murphy, and I'll be leading the class."

As I looked her over, Emily introduced herself to Bridget, who spoke with her briefly and then invited Emily to go meet some of the other expectant mothers before the class got started. Then she turned to me with a smile and said, "And you are . . .?"

I hadn't been paying close attention, and I stuttered, "Oh, I'm John Manning. Um, I'm the father."

Immediately, Bridget's smile transformed into an unfriendly frown, and I blushed when I realized what she thought. "No,no" I said hastily, "I mean I'm Emily's father, not the father of the baby!"

Her face relaxed. "Well in that case, welcome to the class. Sorry to have leapt to conclusions, but I've seen stranger things in the maternity ward. So where is the father of the baby?"

I frowned myself. "Unfortunately, he took off for parts unknown, so I'm going to be Emily's partner in all this."

Bridget smiled warmly at me. "I'm sorry to hear about the father; it's unfortunate how often that happens these days. But I think it's great that you want to be here for your daughter. Not every Dad would be willing to help out."

I glanced around to see that Emily was eagerly chatting with some of the other mothers-to-be, so I decided to be candid with Bridget about our situation. I wasn't happy about what I had to say, but I wanted to lay my cards on the table so there wouldn't be any embarrassing moments later.

"There's something about me you ought to know, Bridget, before we get started. I don't know if you've read about it in the papers, but I'm the John Manning whose wife disappeared. I had nothing to do with it, but if you saw the news story, you might think otherwise. Anyway, if you're uncomfortable with my being here, I'll try to make other arrangements."

She looked at me calculatingly for a moment and then broke into a small smile. "You're here for your daughter -- that's all that matters to me. Besides, in my experience cold-blooded killers rarely attend Lamaze classes. Now, we need to get the session started."

I had gone through Lamaze with Lori before Emily was born, but I have to admit that I had forgotten most of what I learned. Nevertheless, I tried to be supportive and Emily was very pleased with the first class. She seemed to develop a rapport with Bridget right from the start, which really helped.

Getting out of the house and, more importantly, getting out of my head to focus on Emily was a real blessing for me. The stress of coping with my anxiety about Lori on the one hand and my anger with those who believed I was the cause of her disappearance on the other had been worse than anything I had endured in my life. The chance to forget it all, even for an hour or so a week, was a life-saver.

Although the calls from friends and neighbors stopped once suspicion fell on me, that wasn't the end of all outside contact. I was stunned the first time I answered the phone and someone I didn't know began to spew invective at me for having murdered my wife. After that, from time to time I'd find hate mail from anonymous writers condemning me to perdition for what they said I'd done to Lori. There were even those who wrote to tell me they knew how I had done it and where the body was buried. If that wasn't enough, I even got an offer for money from one of those supermarket tabloids if I would confess to their reporter!

As a result, I almost threw away the handwritten letter with no return address that I found it in the mailbox one afternoon. But I did open it, and when I began to read it, I almost fell down.

John, I just saw the news story about you in the local paper. I am so sorry -- I never imagined that anyone would think that anything had happened to me, much less that you could have done something terrible.

Please let the police know that I am alive and well and living with the man I love. Go ahead and file for divorce if you haven't already; I won't be coming back. Don't try to find me. This was something I had to do.

Please tell Emily I still love her despite what I've done to her.

Lori

Emily walked into the room at that moment, and when she saw my face, she cried, "Daddy, what's wrong?"

I held out the letter to her. "It's from your Mom."

She gave a little scream and took the letter from me with trembling hands. When she had read it she began to cry piteously and collapsed into my arms. "How could she do that, Daddy? How could she leave us like that? She didn't even say goodbye!"

As I held Emily in my arms, I remembered a time when she was very young and had wandered out of our backyard. We almost went mad with fear when we couldn't find her, and were on the verge of calling the authorities when a neighbor brought her back to us. I distinctly remember the conflicting emotions I had: relief that she was safe and anger at her for scaring us half to death. I felt the same welter of emotions now -- relief that our long nightmare was over and rage at Lori's selfish betrayal of her family.

It was Emily who recovered first. "Daddy, we need to take this letter to the police right away."

Of course I realized that she was right, so I went to get my wallet and keys. When I returned to the den, she was just coming out of her room. "I'm going with you," she said determinedly, and I wasn't about to argue with her. We were in this together.

As we drove down to the station, Emily nervously fingered the letter we'd received. She looked over at me with concern on her face. "Are you going to divorce Mom, Daddy?"

I felt like Emily was in a fragile state and I didn't want to upset her any further, so I merely said, "Well, I need to talk to the attorney and see what he says . . ."

But she interrupted me. "I really think you should, Daddy. I really do."

I hated to see the split between Emily and her mother, but Lori had brought all this on herself. She had abandoned Emily every bit as much as she had thrown me over for another man. Emily was old enough to recognize it and to be able to deal with that reality, however painful it might be. She reached out to me and we held each other's hand for the rest of the way to the police station.

I hadn't even thought to call ahead, but fortunately we found the detective we had dealt with from Missing Persons on duty. When he took us back to his desk, I asked him, "Where's your partner from Homicide?" Somewhat reluctantly, he went to get her. Ever since our confrontation at the station house, she'd been absent whenever the police talked to me.

When she arrived, I took the letter from Emily and threw it on the desk in front of them. "This came in the mail today," I said curtly. The male detective opened the envelope and quickly read the letter. He glanced up at me and silently handed it to the woman.

When she'd finished, she looked up at me. "You could have written this yourself, you know."

I could feel my anger rising, but I held myself in check. "Sure I could have. And I could have flown up to New York City to mail it to myself, or haven't you noticed the postmark?"

She started to reply, but, to my surprise, Emily interrupted her. "And before you go accusing my father of forgery, I brought along an old letter my mother wrote me when I went to camp. You can see it's her handwriting."

The first detective took Emily's old letter and held it up beside the new one. His partner peered over his shoulder. They glanced at each other, and then the first detective looked back at me. "We're going to have to turn this over to the lab to confirm, but it looks to me like our missing person's case has been solved."

He held out his hand. "I'm sorry about all the suspicion," he said, "but we had to check." Reluctantly I shook it. But when the female detective offered her hand, I turned my back and Emily and I walked out.

I guess I was naïve. I'd expected there would be some sort of official notice that the case was closed, but there was nothing of the kind. Yes, I was no longer a suspect since no crime had been committed, but my reputation had been stained and there was no absolution for my non-existent sin. I had to get my attorney to call the newspaper and make a veiled threat before they'd even run a news story. When they did, all I got was a couple of paragraphs buried at the bottom of the last page of the local news with the headline:

Missing Wife Case is Runaway Spouse

"I was practically front page news when everybody thought I'd done away with her," I protested to my attorney. "Now that I'm exonerated, all I get is a few lines. How is that fair?"

He shook his head. "Unfortunately, that's the way it goes, John. Mysterious disappearances and possible murders are news; the mundane truth doesn't sell newspapers. I'm sorry, but this is all you're going to get."

I gnashed my teeth, but I knew there was nothing I could do to change the situation. In desperation, I photocopied the brief story and sent copies to everyone I cared about. I dropped a copy off on Henry Nance's desk, and he at least had the courtesy to look embarrassed and mutter congratulations. I even wound up laminating a copy of the story and sticking it in my wallet so I could pull it out and show people whenever the subject came up. Sadly, I think a lot of people preferred the fiction to the true story.

The one thing I didn't do was to send a copy to Rufus Carleton. "Let his high-priced detectives find out what his daughter has done," I thought to myself.

All this did have one positive outcome. Once the police had authenticated the letter, I had no difficulty filing for divorce on the grounds of desertion and obtaining a speedy judgment in absentia. That settled any possible legal questions and put me on the road to being single once again. Soon I hoped I'd be able to get on with my life.

Throughout the whole process, I'd continued to go with Emily to Bridget Murphy's Lamaze class. Emily became quite close to Bridget, and several times the three of us went out for coffee after class.

Bridget's story was a sad one. She'd married her college sweetheart right after graduation and right before he was deployed to Afghanistan to fulfill his ROTC commitment. She'd gotten pregnant while he was on leave, but he'd died in an IED explosion before he even learned the good news. To compound the tragedy, Bridget had miscarried soon afterward and lost the baby. She also lost the ability to have any more children.

Such terrible circumstances would have overwhelmed many people, but instead of abandoning herself to despair, Bridget somehow found the wherewithal to devote herself to helping others. She went to back nursing school and specialized in Obstetrics so that she could help other women have their babies. The Lamaze classes she taught were one manifestation of her commitment.

I was amazed at her fortitude and surprised at her ability with the young mothers. One time I told her, "Speaking as a professional educator, I have to say how impressed I am with your ability to teach these women a skill that doesn't come naturally. You have a real gift."

She blushed and told me that it was only because her class was so motivated, but I knew that it took more than motivation to make for good education.

Emily and I were driving home from class one evening when she surprised me with a question. "Did you notice what Bridget was wearing tonight?" she asked.

I couldn't have told Emily what outfit Bridget had been wearing, but I had noticed that she had exchanged her nurse's scrubs for regular clothing.

"And she was wearing make-up, too, Daddy."

"Oh," I said dully. "Well, that's nice."

"Don't you see, Daddy? She's dressing up for you," Emily said in exasperation.

"Why would she do that?" I asked, uncomprehendingly.

Emily shook her head in wonder at my stupidity. "Because, Daddy, she likes you. I think you should ask her out. It's about time you got back in the game."

Once my divorce had become final, I'd thought about dating again but hadn't done anything about it. After all, our friends were all married, and I didn't know any single women. Oh, sure, the campus was filled with them, but they were mostly all Emily's age. There were lots of reasons why I didn't want any involvement of that sort.

But Emily wouldn't let it go, and at the close of the next class I nervously approached Bridget and asked if she'd like to go out sometime.

"You mean like for coffee?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"No, I mean like maybe for dinner and a movie," I said uncomfortably.

"With Emily?" she asked, and I could swear I saw a hint of a grin at the corner of her mouth.

"No," I stumbled on, "maybe just you and me. I mean, unless you want Emily to come. That would be okay too."

Now she was definitely enjoying my discomfort. "No, just you and me would be fine, John."

And so I found myself dating again. I was extremely apprehensive about restarting; not only had I been out of the game for twenty years but my courtship of Lori had been filled with drama and wild swings of emotion. I was pretty sure I couldn't handle that again.

Bridget put all my fears to rest. She was extremely calm and centered emotionally, she intensely disliked game-playing and she was self-confident enough not to need to have her ego stroked constantly. In short, she was the anti-Lori, and that helped me to get over the pain and resentment I felt from Lori's abandonment. With Bridget, I found myself able to relax and be myself.

I had no intention of rushing into anything hasty, but, truthfully, I was beginning to be able to see myself making a life together with her.

Emily's baby was due about the first of March, and her pregnancy had gone very well. Even her morning sickness had disappeared after the first month. Consequently, I didn't feel bad about making a day trip to our subsidiary campus in Columbus just before Valentine's Day. It was only a two-hour drive, and before I set out that morning I reminded Emily to call me on my cellphone if anything happened.

The drive down was pleasant, and I was able to conduct my business without incident. We had a late lunch, and before I set out on the return trip I decided to check my phone for any messages. To my dismay, the battery had gone dead and I hadn't noticed it. I quickly grabbed a phone at the campus to call my daughter, but I got no answer. That worried me, and I called Bridget to ask her to check in on Emily just to be sure everything was okay.

When I reached her, Bridget's voice was not its normal calm tone. "Thank God you called," she said. "Emily's water broke shortly after you left. She's in hard labor now here in the hospital. Don't take any crazy risks, but you need to get back here as quick as you can."

In a panic, I jumped in my car and lit out toward Atlanta. Normally, I85 is teaming with Highway Patrol cars because of Fort Benning, but I somehow managed to avoid the radar traps and got to the hospital in only ninety minutes.

When the elevator let me out on the maternity ward, the nurses quickly gowned me, but instead of taking me to delivery, I was led to a semi-private room. Upon entering the room, all I could see was my daughter lying in bed holding her very own daughter, my grand-daughter. I was simultaneously heart-sick that I'd missed the birth and overjoyed that mother and baby appeared to be doing well.

When my field of vision expanded a little, I realized that Bridget was standing at Emily's bedside with a big smile on her face, cooing at the new life Emily was cradling. When Bridget saw me she smiled broadly and started to step aside. "I'll let you be alone with Emily and her baby now," she said, but Emily grabbed her hand.

"Please don't go," Emily begged. She looked up at me. "Daddy, when I couldn't reach you, I called Bridget. She came and got me and brought me to the hospital, and she coached me all the way."

All I could do was look at Bridget with heartfelt appreciation -- I had no words to express my gratitude.

Emily looked at me staring at Bridget and smiled happily. "I've decided what I want to name my baby: Bridget Valentine Manning." She turned to Bridget. "If that's okay with you, of course."

Bridget smiled through her tears. "If that's what you want, I'd be honored."

Emily turned back to me. "Daddy, would you like to hold your granddaughter?"

It had been a long time since I'd held a newborn, and this one seemed much smaller to me than Emily when she arrived. But as I looked at baby Bridget's tiny red face, I was filled with a powerful emotion, and I made an oath that I would protect and support her to the best of my ability. The circumstances by which she'd arrived in this world were suddenly far less important than the fact that she was here now and needed her family.

There is a reason why Nature intended for humans to have their babies while they're young. In the next few weeks I was reminded of that by how tired I felt. Even though Emily threw herself into the task, she still needed a lot of help. Newborns demand a lot of attention around the clock, and I went to class on more than one occasion having had little or no sleep the previous night. Emily was a real trooper and didn't complain, but I could tell that she was equally worn out. In addition to having to play with baby Bridget and change her diapers, Emily was also nursing. Bridget reminded me how much energy that drains from the mother.

It was hectic but we managed, and as the baby girl grew, we began to settle into a routine, albeit a far different one than before. Once again, Bridget proved to be a life-saver. She quickly got Emily enrolled in a parenting class that put her in touch with a number of other parents of newborns. By the second month Emily was taking her new daughter to the class and enjoying the opportunity to get out of the house.

It was a day when Emily was off to one of those classes that I heard the front doorbell ring. That wasn't unusual; it was hard for Emily to manage the door with the baby in her arms. So I was all smiles when I opened the door, but I was stunned when I saw who was on the doorstep. It was Lori!