141 comments/ 79477 views/ 32 favorites Vigilantes Pt. 02 of 02 By: FrancisMacomber From the time I got Lori's letter and learned what she had done, I had thought many times about what I would say to her if I ever saw her again. I had longed for the opportunity to vent my rage, to call her names and demand answers to all the questions she'd left behind. But when it actually happened, I was dumbfounded. I had never expected to see her again, and now that she was here, I was speechless. All I could do was stand there gaping at her. "Hello, John," she said warily. "May I come in?" As if on autopilot, I backed away from the door and she entered and sat on the sofa as though nothing had changed between us. I couldn't help but study her. She was still an attractive woman. She'd gained a little weight, which looked good on her, and her breasts seemed larger than before, and I wondered if she'd had a boob job. "I guess infidelity and betrayal agree with her," I thought bitterly. Yet she also seemed older: there were lines under her eyes and a few wrinkles on her face I had not remembered. Her hair looked like she hadn't paid much attention to it, which was unlike her. At least her clothes were age-appropriate, I realized, remembering how she used to gall Emily with her too youthful wardrobe. "You really have a lot of nerve showing up here," I said finally. "Believe me," she said in a dull voice, "I dreaded this. I know you must hate me; I know how badly I hurt you." My anger was rising, but I tried to control it. "I don't think so, Lori. I don't think you have any idea what you've done to Emily and me. Forget about the pain of being deserted by my wife and Emily's mother. Forget the humiliation of being left for another man. Forget about the fact that you went without a word, an explanation or even a goodbye. Your disappearance made me the subject of a police investigation. They searched our house and impounded my car to look for blood stains! Thanks to you my reputation has been stained; our friends abandoned me and I almost lost my job at the university. I've gotten crank phone calls and hate mail because total strangers decided I had killed you and hidden your body. There are people out there who would have been willing to lynch me if things had gone on much longer." I had been shouting, and I caught my breath and lowered the volume. "So no, I don't think you have the slightest idea how badly you hurt me." As I'd been ranting, her face had grown pale and she'd hung her head, unable to face my anger. When I finished, she looked up and I saw tears running down her cheeks. She pulled a tissue out of her purse, wiped her eyes, and said in a low voice, "I'm so sorry, John. I had no idea about any of that. I'm so sorry." "I'm afraid saying 'sorry' doesn't cut it," I said harshly. I should have sent her away at that moment, but after all those months of wondering, I couldn't help asking. "Why did you do it? What made you abandon Emily and me?" "I didn't intend to do it," she whimpered. "We started with a little flirting and some sexual innuendo, and the next thing I knew I had fallen in love with him and was in a full-blown affair. He was so exciting, and he made me feel so young. I didn't mean for it to happen -- it just did." "Oh, yes," I said disdainfully, "that's good old Lori, all right: impetuous and carefree, headstrong and unbelievably selfish. So selfish that you were perfectly willing to throw away your husband of twenty years, not to mention abandoning your very own daughter, so you could pursue your little affair!" "No, you're wrong," she wept. "I hated to hurt you and it killed me to leave Emily, but I just couldn't face her, not after what I'd done." I'd suspected who her lover was, but now I was certain. "So you seduced Brandon Hilton. You stole your daughter's boyfriend and ran off with him. What a fine mother you turned out to be!" "That's not true!" she protested. "I was trying to protect Emily. I forced Brandon to break it off with her." I knew it was a lie the minute I heard it. "No, you weren't trying to help Emily. You forced Brandon to dump Emily to prove you were more desirable than she was. No wonder you couldn't face your daughter! That's just pathetic!" She didn't try to deny my accusation; she simply covered her face in her hands and sobbed. But I wasn't done with my questions, not by a long shot. "So after you'd won the competition with your daughter, you just decided to disappear, to vanish without a word of explanation, without even packing a bag?" "It wasn't like that," she said defensively. "I left work early that day and went to his apartment to . . . well, you know. Anyway, when we were finished and lying there, he told me he was leaving town that afternoon. I begged him not to, but he was adamant. He got up to get dressed, and when I saw the suitcase he had packed, I thought, 'He's dumping me just like he did Emily.'" "Then he turned and said, 'Well, are you coming or not?' I realized that he wasn't leaving me, he still wanted me with him. I was ecstatic and crazy about him and, well, I just got in the car with him and we left," she said with a shrug, as if that explained it. I'd known Lori was impulsive, but this was more than I could ever have imagined. "You left with only the clothes on your back?" I asked in amazement. Her face reddened in embarrassment. "Well, I had some of my clothes at Brandon's apartment that I'd taken over in my gym bag, you know, so I could change if I needed to after, um, after sex." That little detail just added to my anger, but I ignored it because I still didn't understand. "What did you do for money? You never wrote a check or used your credit cards." "I felt badly enough about leaving you and Emily," she said quickly. "I couldn't take money you needed to provide for her." By now I realized just how self-serving she was, so I saw through that explanation instantly. "No, that wasn't the reason. You just didn't want any of us to know where you'd gone and with whom. You decided to take off on your romantic little adventure and you didn't want me or Emily or anyone else to find out what you'd done." The expression on her face told me I'd read the situation rightly. "But I still don't know how you did it without any money," I went on. "Brandon has a trust fund," she said. "He has plenty of money." Then her face reddened again. "And I had a bank account you didn't know about under my maiden name." I began to pace around the room, trying to control my rage. There was still plenty I didn't know, but I no longer cared about the answers. Each new revelation from her was like a body blow, even after so long. Yes, I'd seen the impulsiveness, the sudden passion and the stubbornness in her, but who could have imagined they would lead to this? As I walked by the front window, I happened to glance outside and saw an unfamiliar car parked in front. "I guess that's him out there waiting for you," I snarled. She looked up with a strange expression on her face. "No, that's Jackie. She drove me over here." "Oh? Where's your lover boy?" "He abandoned me," she said through her tears. "One day he told me he had a new opportunity and it didn't include me. Then he left, and I was alone in New York. I tried to make it on my own, but it was just too much for me." "So he wound up leaving you just the way you left me," I said vindictively. "I guess it's true what they say: karma is a bitch!" "I guess it is," she said quietly. Then she got up, walked over to the window and motioned to Jackie to come. Turning back to me, her voice took on a more urgent tone. "I know I was stubborn and impetuous and all those other things you called me. Yes, I abandoned you, and I regret that now with all my heart. And most of all I regret abandoning Emily. But you've got to understand: I had no choice." "Of course," I said sarcastically, "what mother wants to tell her daughter she stole her boyfriend?" "That was only part of it," she said quietly. Before I could respond, Jackie came in the front door. In her arms was a baby, and I was momentarily confused. But when Lori went over and took the baby from her, all I could do was gasp, "Oh my God!" Lori looked at me sadly. "Now you see why I couldn't face either one of you." She must have known what I was going to ask because she went on, "When I left I forgot my birth control pills, and I had trouble getting a new prescription. Brandon wouldn't use condoms, and I thought it wouldn't hurt but . . ." Her voice tailed off. "So did he abandon you before or after you had the baby?" I asked nastily. Before she could answer I heard the sounds of Emily coming back from her parenting class. As she came into the kitchen from the garage she yelled, "Hey, Daddy, whose car is that out front?" Then she walked into the living room carrying baby Bridget, only to stop short with a gasp when she saw her mother. I know I could have done better, should have thought of something to say to try ease into the truth gently. But I was so angry at what Lori had done and so stunned by the awfulness of the situation that I turned to my daughter and blurted out, "Look who your mother brought with her: your new half-sister!" Then, seeing Lori staring at Emily's baby, I said, "Lori, meet baby Bridget, your new grand-daughter." It took them a moment to comprehend what I had just said, but then they both began to wail. Of course the babies began to cry, and even Jackie was bawling. For that matter, I felt like crying too, but more than anything I felt exhausted. I certainly didn't have the energy to play referee between Emily and her mother. Whatever Emily wanted to say, I felt like her mother had it coming. Finally, I simply walked out of the room, went into the den and slumped on the sofa. I could hear angry words coming from the other room, punctuated by a couple of anguished cries. I guessed that they had just realized that both babies had a common father. There was a lot more crying from both mothers and babies. But after a while I realized that it had grown quiet in the living room and I began to wonder what was happening. I hesitated, but when I finally stuck my head in the door, I saw Jackie holding Lori's baby and Lori holding baby Bridget, with Emily looking over her shoulder. Spotting me, Emily motioned me back to the den and came to join me. I had no idea what to say to my daughter. Lori's revelations had floored me; I couldn't imagine the impact they must have had on Emily. Her own mother had stolen her boyfriend and then given birth to his child. How could I possibly ease the anguish Emily must be feeling? But before I could say anything, Emily stunned me. "Daddy, can Mom stay at our house for a little while with her baby?" "You must be joking!" I gasped in shock. "After all she's done to you and me?" "I know, Daddy, and I don't know if I can ever forgive her for that. But she's dead broke, Daddy, and she has no place else to go. Her baby needs a place to live, at least until Mom can get back on her feet. Please, Daddy. After all, her baby is Bridget's half-sister as well as mine." I shuddered at that realization. "Why can't she live with Jackie?" I protested. Emily looked at me with exasperation. "Jackie lives in a one-bedroom apartment, Daddy." "Well then, Lori can go live with her parents. She's their responsibility," I tried. "Yeah, right, Daddy. As if," Emily shot back sarcastically. We'd tried to shelter Emily from the acrimony of our relationship with the Carletons, but of course she'd picked up on the rift at an early age. We both knew that wasn't a viable answer. I learned two lessons that day. The first was that I would never understand the relationship between mothers and daughters. I had halfway expected a knock-down drag-out fight to break out when Emily learned the full extent of her mother's betrayal. For Emily to offer Lori shelter -- even temporarily -- was beyond my imagination. The second lesson I learned was that it is almost impossible for a father to deny his daughter when she really wants something. I had previously made plans to get together with Bridget the next evening. This was one time when I wasn't looking forward to seeing her. My apprehension must have been obvious because when she opened the door and saw me, Bridget immediately said, "What's happened, John? What's wrong?" I knew there was nothing to be gained by delay, so I led her to the couch and sat down beside her. "Bridget, I have something I need to tell you. Lori has come back." Astonishment swept over her face, only to be replaced almost immediately by pain. She caught her breath and then gave a little nod of understanding. "And you and she have decided to get back together . . ." "No, no!" I almost shouted. "That's not it at all." I went on to explain all that had happened and how Emily was insistent that I help her mother and the baby out temporarily. Bridget's face relaxed a little, but there was still pain in her eyes as she looked at me. "Don't scare me like that again, John. I've already lost one man I loved -- I don't think I could stand to lose another." Did she just say she loved me? I'd been feeling closer and closer to Bridget the more we'd seen of each other, but I hadn't been sure how she felt about me. Now, hearing those words, my fears and hesitation seemed to melt away. I took her in my arms and looked into her eyes. "I lost a spouse too, but I've found another, better one to love. I promise: if you want me, you're not going to lose me." She didn't say anything, but I thought I sensed something building within her as well. Suddenly she was kissing me, I was kissing her and neither of us could stop. It felt as though a dam had broken somewhere inside, and all the pent up emotions came rushing out and flowed over us. I felt her pulling on me to stand up, and when I did, she began trying to walk backwards, tugging me toward her bedroom. When I comprehended what she was trying to do, I swept her up in my arms and carried her back to her bed. Lying beside each other, we continued to kiss as we slowly began to undress each other. There was no hurry, no sense of urgency, just the certainty that this was the right thing to do. When both of us were bare, we clasped each other tightly, our legs and arms intertwining, wanting to be as close to one another as possible. Abruptly, Bridget rolled me over on top of her, reached down to find me and inserted me where she needed me the most. I could feel how wet she was, and I realized that foreplay at this point was neither needed nor wanted. As I reached the portal of her opening, she whispered, "Please go easy with me, John. It's been a long time." I understood what she needed, and gently began to penetrate her, going in only an inch or so before pulling back to ensure I was well lubricated before pressing forward again, more deeply this time. When I was finally fully seated within her, we began a gentle rocking motion while clinging tightly to each other and continuing our kisses. After a while, I felt her breathing accelerate, and then she was making little sighs that turned into moans. My own arousal was growing, and I began to speed up my thrusts until she arched her back, gave a cry and came with a shudder. I continued to pulse into her for a minute or two longer before I joined her in my own orgasm. As we lay there, each struggling to catch our breath, she gripped my face in both her hands. "Thank you, John, thank you. That was my first time since David died. I thought I would never find love again." I smiled and kissed her again. I felt like my long nightmare was ending too. Our lives now settled into a new, unfamiliar routine. Bridget and I began to spend every chance we could get together, but we decided to continue living apart, at least for the time being. In the first place, we didn't want to rush things. And secondly, I still had two mothers bustling around our house taking care of two infants, plus a busy nanny that Bridget found who now arrived every weekday to help out. She proved to be a godsend because she enabled Emily to continue taking classes and Lori to start looking for a job to support herself and her little one. I still tried to help out, but in truth I was the odd man out. That had an unfortunate side effect. With more idle time on my hands, I began to brood about everything that had happened to me. It might seem contradictory, but the happier I felt with Bridget, the more unhappy I became with Lori. Emily had found a way to co-exist with her mother through the shared experience of caring for their infants. But I had nothing to ease the bitterness of my ex-wife's betrayal and my resentment of the harm she'd done, not just by cuckolding me but by disappearing in such a way as to throw threw suspicion on me. Over time, however, I found the focus of my resentment shifting to the one person who had thus far escaped the consequences: Brandon Hilton. It was he who had seduced my wife, he who had defiled my daughter, and he who had sullied my name, perhaps irreparably. What made it even more galling was that seduction was no longer recognized as a crime. Apparently society was perfectly willing to have predators like Hilton seduce wives and daughters and then look the other way when they abruptly departed. Shouldn't there be some punishment for all the pain and suffering they left behind? I went back and reread The Ox-bow Incident. This time I found myself more sympathetic to the members of the posse who had tracked down the "rustlers." Yes, they'd wound up hanging the wrong men, but they'd been forced into action by an ineffectual justice system that couldn't protect them. Moreover, as I reminded myself, the crimes those men had attempted to redress were no small matter. Rob a rancher of his herd and he might not be able to feed his family when the winter snows came howling across the prairie. Steal a man's horse and you all but certainly condemned him to a slow, lingering death by starvation and dehydration, far from human civilization. No wonder the vigilantes "took arms against a sea of troubles" to go after the ones they believed had wronged them. I realized that Brandon Hilton hadn't put my family at risk of starvation or left me to wander on foot through the desert looking for a waterhole.. But he had caused me and my family real, tangible harm. He had stained my reputation, made me into a hapless cuckold, and left behind two abandoned women. Over time I found myself spending more and more of my spare time searching for clues to his whereabouts, not to mention sleepless nights pondering appropriate forms of revenge for what he had done. Most college professors aren't particularly well paid, especially those in the liberal arts. The loss of Lori's paycheck had significantly reduced our household income, and now I had the added expense of additional mouths to feed plus a nanny to help care for the infants. There was no way I could afford to retain a detective agency to track down my enemy, so I fell back on the poor man's alternative: the Internet. Brandon had a Facebook account, naturally, but it had not been updated in over a year. Besides, I thought wryly, he wasn't exactly likely to "friend" me so I could follow any activities he might post. A Google search found his name on the class roll of the law school, but little additional information. However, finding that set me off on a visit to our admissions office to see what I could turn up in their records. A friendly administrative assistant let me look at his file (officially, she shouldn't have done that), but the only thing I learned was that he also was originally from Savannah. That discovery sent a shiver through me: could Lori have known him from back then? But I quickly saw the absurdity of that idea -- she would have been leaving for college when he was only a few years old. That realization caused me to curse Lori again for her foolish refusal to act her age. Vigilantes Pt. 02 of 02 As my search continued, I found myself becoming something of an expert on the outlandish behavior of a certain daughter of a hotel chain magnate with the same last name, but I had no luck finding Brandon Hilton. He seemed to have made good his escape from the one-man posse on his tail. My lack of success only hardened my determination to find him. A part of me watched my activities in amazement. Just what did I think I would do if I found the man: fight him? I was no black belt in Eastern martial arts, no unarmed combat expert. Besides, he was twenty years younger than I, he'd surely kick my ass. How did I expect to get satisfaction from him if I even could find him? But that line of thinking did nothing to assuage my anger. He'd preyed on my family, stolen my wife and broken up our home. He'd dishonored me and stained my reputation, insults that were unbearable to me. In an earlier era, I knew, the answer would have been straightforward. In a matter of honor during the nineteenth century, the injured party would challenge the other to a duel with swords or pistols. But I knew from my studies that the military was largely responsible for putting an end to dueling. So many duels were fought by soldiers and sailors that the military made it a crime; they needed those soldiers for the battlefield. By the twentieth century, dueling was a dead tradition. I knew the history, and I knew the reasons why society so adamantly opposed all such extralegal action. But I was still left with the same conundrum: how could a man regain his honor without taking the law into his own hands, without becoming a vigilante? So I continued my obsessive solitary search for the man I hated, even though I had never met him face to face, even though I had no plan to deal with him even if I could find him. But none of that stopped me from slipping off to the computer every few days to see if any new information might be found. By the time the spring rolled around, I had almost given up hope of ever finding Brandon Hilton's whereabouts. I was ready to accept that he had disappeared and that I would never see or hear of him again. So I was startled one night when one of my searches actually pulled up a hit from the Savannah Morning News. When I read the story, I was dumbstruck. I immediately called Bridget to see if I could come over to talk about my discovery. I couldn't discuss it with Emily because I didn't want to upset her, and I had no interest in sharing the news with Lori, but I couldn't keep it to myself. "I've found him!" I said excitedly, handing the print-out of the news item to Bridget. "You won't believe what he's done now!" She quickly scanned the article and then handed it back to me. "I don't understand, John. I know you hate Brandon, but what does his getting married have to do with you?" I couldn't understand why Bridget wasn't shocked by the news, but then I realized that there was no way she could understand the significance. "Bridget, Lori's maiden name was Carleton," I shouted. "That bastard is engaged to be married to Cecily Carleton -- to Lori's sister and Emily's aunt!" "Unbelievable!" she gasped. "Why won't he leave the Carleton family alone? It's like he has a vendetta against the Carleton women." I hadn't thought about it that way, and I tried to reason it through. "No," I said slowly, "I don't think that's what's going on. I mean, he certainly knew that Lori was Emily's mother; in fact he probably got some sort of sick thrill from seducing the mother as well as her daughter. But as far as he knew, they were Lori and Emily Manning. It's unlikely that he would know Lori's maiden name -- he probably doesn't know that she and Cecily are related." "Maybe not," she admitted, "but I still don't understand how the Carletons could let Cecily get engaged to him after what he did to Emily and Lori." "That's the thing," I said, "they don't know either! There's been virtually no contact between Lori and her family since she and I got married. I'm sure they know Lori is alive now, but they probably have no idea who she ran off with. Rufus Carleton probably thinks he's getting a promising young lawyer from Savannah for a son." "If Brandon doesn't know and the Carletons don't know," Bridget asked, "then what do you care what happens in Savannah?" I shook my head. "Brandon may not know that there's any connection, but as far as I'm concerned, he's back again. He's like a thief who robs your house and then comes back later to rob it again. He owes me, and this time I'm going to do something about it!" Bridget got a worried expression on her face. "John, what are you thinking? You're not going to try something foolish, are you? Violence never solved anything." I didn't say it to Bridget, but as a historian I knew that old saying wasn't true. Think violence never solved anything? Tell that to the Carthaginians after Cato goaded the Romans into conquering their army, slaying all their men, enslaving their women and plowing salt into their fields to make nothing would grow for seven years. That pretty well settled the issue for Carthage, I thought. But I didn't want to alarm Bridget, so all I said was, "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I can't stand idly by and watch this happen." Now that Brandon Hilton's whereabouts were no longer a mystery, my mood only darkened. The possibility of revenge was no longer a fantasy; now I had to resolve the dilemma of what to do. I'd always been a believer in the law. As a historian I knew all too well what happened when individuals took the quest for vengeance into their own hands. But after what had happened to me and my family, I simply could not sit by idly and let that man get away with his predations. My pride, my honor and my sense of justice all demanded a response: Brandon Hilton had to pay for what he had done. Finally, after a long, sleepless night, I made my decision. Once I had finally done so, I found I was able to devise a plan to get satisfaction. I didn't have a lot of time, but I thought I could do what needed to be done if I hurried. I now began to use the internet to research the steps I would have to take and to acquire the resources I would need to accomplish my objective. One by one I tracked them down. During this time I was often away from home running errands in pursuit of my quest, but I hoped that caring for two babies would distract the others enough that they wouldn't notice how busy I was. The last thing I needed was a lot of questions and second-guessing. But both Emily and Bridget could read my mood, and finally, just before "D-Day," as I called it, they confronted me. I was working on my computer one evening when I looked up to see Emily standing on the threshold to my office with a look of concern on her face. "Hi, Baby," I said lightly, "what's up?" "Bridget is here," she told me. "We need to talk to you." This was unusual -- I hadn't planned to see Bridget tonight. I quickly shut down my web browser and started to stand when Bridget walked in the door. She wasn't smiling. Before I could say anything, Emily spoke up. "Daddy, Bridget told me that you've found Brandon." I shot Bridget a dirty look, but she simply folded her arms across her chest and stared back at me with a determined look on her face. Emily pressed on. "Daddy, I'm scared to death that you're going to do something crazy. I know how upset you are with everything that's happened, and you have every right to be. But if you wind up in jail or go and get yourself killed, that's only going to make things worse." Bridget stepped up and put her arm around Emily's shoulder. "Please, John, Emily's right. Whatever it is you're planning, don't do it. I've already lost one man to senseless violence -- I couldn't bear it if that happened again." I saw the tears in both their eyes, and at that moment I was tempted to forget about my plans. These were the two women I loved most in the world, and the last thing I wanted was to cause them any pain. But I simply could not call it off. A line from one of the Cavalier poets crossed my mind: "I could not love thee dear so much, lov'd I not Honour more." I came around my desk and hugged the two of them. "Thank you for caring about me -- that means a lot. But you two are worrying about nothing," I tried to reassure them. "I'm not about to do something stupid. You know me better than that." Emily looked up at me with hopeful eyes. "Promise, Daddy?" I had a flashback of Emily as a little girl, and I extended my little finger to her. "Pinky promise, Baby," I swore, and she took my finger with hers and smiled. But I saw a look of doubt from Bridget, and I knew I hadn't fooled her. I guess losing a husband in battle will do that to a woman. I'd have to be careful to avoid frightening her into trying to stop me. I thought I had done a pretty good job of reassuring Emily, but my efforts were nearly undone when she took a delivery from the UPS man while I was still at school. When I got home, she handed the box to me with a troubled expression. "What is this, Daddy? The package says it's from The Armory. It's heavy. " I knew immediately what it was -- I'd ordered it some time ago and had been worried about whether it would arrive in time. "It's nothing, Baby, just a gift for a colleague in the History Department," I lied. She didn't say anything more, but I could see the doubt on her face. That night I was in my office double-checking the driving directions when Lori startled me by walking in the room and closing the door. I'd made it very clear that I was not happy about having her and her baby in our house, and up to now she'd kept her distance. "Well, what do you want?" I asked coldly. She just looked at me for a moment; then her face turned red and she began to cry. "I know I've hurt you badly and been unfaithful and made you suffer and . . ." She stopped to choke back a little sob. "And I know that I have no right to ask anything of you, but . . ." Again she had to pause before she could go on. "It's just . . . please don't get yourself hurt or thrown into jail or anything over me. I've done enough to you -- I just couldn't bear it if I was the cause of even more pain for you, or Emily, or even Bridget." I sat there unmoved. "That's your trouble, Lori. You always think that everything is about you. Well this is not about you, it's about me. I'm doing what I need to do. You opted out of my life and you don't get to come back into it, now or in the future. Understand?" Her face turned pale, then she turned and swiftly retreated. After a minute's thought, I reached into a drawer in my desk and pulled out the copy of the wedding announcement in the Savannah Morning News. I folded it and put it in an envelope. Then I packed everything I would need. Tomorrow was D-Day, and I wanted to get an early start. I awoke early the next morning, and after showering and shaving I took my bags and tiptoed to the kitchen to get a little breakfast before hitting the road. I had just finished my second cup of coffee when Emily walked in holding her baby. She spotted my suitcase immediately and looked up at me querulously. "Where are you going, Daddy?" she asked uneasily. "I'll be back late tonight or early tomorrow morning, Baby," I told her. "Where are you going?" she asked again, and I could see her anxiety rising. "It's fine, Baby, I promise. Everything's going to be OK," I told her, kissing both her and her baby on the forehead. Before she could speak I reached into my pocket and handed her the envelope I'd sealed last night. "Do me a favor, Baby. When Lori gets back from work this afternoon, please give this to her." Now there was real fear in her eyes, but before she could say any more, the baby started to cry, and while she was tending to it I used the opportunity to slip out the door. As I pulled out of the driveway, I wondered whether Emily would wait until Lori got back before she read the announcement. That made me think, and I reached into my pocket and turned off my cellphone. I didn't want to speak to anyone until I'd done what I had to do. It's about a four-hour drive from Atlanta to Savannah, so I got into town a little past noon. After a fast food lunch, I checked into a cheap motel to rest and change clothes. After all, I wanted to look nice for the wedding. It was still springtime, but Savannah was already hot and humid. There was a breeze off the ocean, of course, but it did little to bring down the temperature. I put on the dark wool suit I'd brought with me. It was unremarkable but perfectly acceptable to wear to a wedding. That was fine with me -- I didn't want to be noticed, at least not now. The air conditioner in the car kept me comfortable on the ride over to the cathedral, but as soon as I'd parked and began walking toward the entrance to the cathedral I began to sweat. I checked to make sure my suit coat was buttoned. The wedding was by invitation only, but no one ever checks the invitation list. I waited until a knot of guests walked up the steps and fell in behind them. I even made idle conversation with a couple as we waited for the ushers to escort the ladies to the pews. When asked, I told the usher I wanted to sit on the bride's side, not because I gave a damn about the Carleton family but because there were more people seated on that side of the aisle. Better camouflage, I thought. The cathedral made a lovely setting for a wedding. The high peak of the nave was impressive, and lilies and white roses overflowed the altar. The bride was lovely in her long white gown as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm. That old reprobate was beaming at the congregation. I made sure to turn my head away as he walked past my pew. The wedding mass was traditional -- the priest even asked if anyone present knew any reason why the loving pair ought not to married. I was tempted to speak but held my peace. The setting wasn't right for what I meant to do. After the wedding, the entire congregation adjourned to the country club for the reception. I waited until most of the parking lot had cleared out before following, not wanting to stand out in any way. The reception was being held in the main dining room of the club. Rectangular tables had been set up in a line along one wall to form an extended head table. The rest of the room was filled with round tables, each big enough to seat eight. The tables were arranged in a semi-circle so as to leave an open area for dancing. At a guess I figured there were 60 tables. I'd have a nice audience for my performance. I found a table in the back of the room that wasn't filled and took a seat. "Must be employees or distant relatives," I thought. The other exiles at the table were glad to have company, and we began a desultory conversation about the wedding, the reception and how much Rufus must have spent. "This must be costing him a fortune," one woman told me breathlessly. "He actually got Paula Deen to cater the whole thing!" I believed her: the food was very good. If this was to be my last meal, I thought, at least it was an enjoyable one. After dinner, the wine glasses were removed and replaced with champagne flutes. I knew what that presaged, and my stomach tensed up. I had only sipped at my wine through dinner because I wanted to have a steady hand. But I did accept a flute of champagne, not to drink but as a prop to help set up my performance. The sound of Rufus Carleton's meaty finger tapping on the microphone called our collective attention to the main table. After some fulsome words about his daughter and her new husband, Rufus opened the microphone for toasts. There followed a procession of friends and relatives, each of whom felt compelled to share some marginally humorous anecdote about the bride or the groom. After each toast there was laughter, applause and more consumption of alcohol. As the ritual wore on, I got up and edged my way around the room to the side of the head table. After a few more offerings, things began to quiet down and the best man asked, as I'd hoped, "Anyone else?" I raised my glass and in a loud voice exclaimed, "I have a toast." Because I was standing to the side, it was difficult for most of those seated at the head table to see me. I didn't think there were many people in the room who might recognize me but I wanted to take no chances. As I made my way up to the dais behind the honorees at the head table, I could see that most of the audience was paying no attention to me. "That will change," I thought grimly. I took the microphone and cleared my throat loudly. I wanted to get people's attention, but my throat was suddenly dry anyway. It was time to start. "We've heard a lot of anecdotes about the past so far tonight, but I want to talk about the future for Mr. and Mrs. Hilton," I said in a falsely jovial tone. "And by the future, of course, I mean children!" That brought a laugh and a few whoops from the crowd. "I predict there are going to be lots of children in this couple's future," I went on. "Now I can't speak for Cecily, but I can definitely vouch for Brandon's ability in that area." There were a few more laughs, but a little murmur arose from the audience and I noticed several people look at each other questioningly. I spoke a little louder. "I can say that with certainty because Brandon has already fathered at least two children that I know of." I heard a gasp from Mrs. Carleton, and immediately the audience began to buzz. Rufus Carleton turned to stare at me full on, and suddenly a look of recognition dawned on his face. "You're John Manning! You weren't invited to the wedding -- get off the stage!" Brandon had been sitting there beside the dais in a slightly inebriated haze, but when he heard my name, something must have connected with him and he started to rise. I quickly leaned over, put my hand on his shoulder and roughly shoved him back down in his seat. Some quick-witted soul killed the microphone, but that didn't faze me. I had taught freshman history to a class of 300 in an auditorium, so I knew how to project my voice. "I have more to say," I said loudly. Rufus yelled again for someone to get me off the stage. To my right I spied several younger men -- they must have been friends of Brandon -- trying to make their way through the tables to do just that. I was prepared for that. I reached down, unbuttoned my suit jacket and pulled back the left side to reveal the shoulder holster I was wearing. With my right hand I pulled out a .357 magnum with an 8 inch barrel and waved it at the advancing men. There were screams from the audience and the men backed away hastily. "Mr. Magnum and I have a few more words to share with you about Brandon Hilton," I said loudly, keeping my left hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me and his eyes were as wide and as white as the wedding cookies we'd been served with dessert. "As I was saying, Brandon Hilton has already fathered at least two children," I went on. "Would you like to know with whom?" Turning to Rufus, I snarled, "The first one was by your other daughter, Lori, and the second one was with your granddaughter, Emily!" I heard a shriek from the bride, and I turned toward her mercilously. "That's right, Cecily," I shouted, "Brandon is not only the father of your sister's baby but also your niece's!" The poor girl burst into sobs. I felt a little sorry for her because this girl had never been unkind to me, but I couldn't say the same for the rest of her family. I turned back to Brandon. "You've always screwed around with whomever you wanted to: another man's wife, her daughter, it didn't matter. And you've always gotten away with it, haven't you, Brandon? But not any more!" With that I reached up, grabbed Brandon's curly blond hair and yanked back, exposing his throat. At the same time I put the magnum down on the podium, reached for the scabbard beneath my jacket on the right side and pulled out a Bowie knife. Vigilantes Pt. 02 of 02 I'd wanted to make an impression and the huge knife with a blade fully as long as the barrel of the magnum certainly succeeded. I heard more screams in the audience as I bent down over Brandon. When he saw the Bowie knife in my hands, he instinctively threw his arm up to try to protect his face. That gave me just the opportunity I wanted, and I slashed the knife through his hair, cutting off a thick handful. Quickly I sheathed the big blade and then pulled out a plastic bag and thrust the hair sample inside. "That should be a sufficient sample for the DNA test," I told him and the rest of the crowd. When he realized that I wasn't going to slit his throat, the young man slumped in his seat. As I looked down, I could see a dark stain spreading through the crotch of his pants. But I wasn't finished with him yet. I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out a packet of papers and thrust it into his hands. "Brandon Hilton, this is legal notice that you are being sued for paternity of the child you fathered with Lori Carleton Manning. You are hereby served." I reached into my jacket again and produced a second packet. "Brandon Hilton, this is legal notice of a paternity suit in regard to the child you fathered with Emily Manning. You are hereby served." I looked down at him with disgust. "Don't even think about trying to disappear again. I've already notified the Georgia Department of Child Welfare. They have a thing about deadbeat dads, and as soon as the court makes it formal, they'll be all over you to collect, no matter where you go." I yanked his head up again. "You want a prediction about your future, Brandon? I predict that for the next eighteen years or so you're going to do very little except work to pay child support for your children!" With that, I scrambled across the table and onto the main floor. But before I left, I turned toward the old man. He stared up at me with a mixture of hate and despair. "Congratulations on your new son, Rufus," I told him with a sneer. "You sure are an excellent judge of character." I heard a kind of primal scream from behind me, and I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Brandon make a grab for the massive handgun I'd left lying on the podium. He hoisted it, aimed it at me and frantically began pulling the trigger. I shook my head. "Don't bother trying to shoot me in the back, Brandon. It's not a real gun, it's a replica." Then I laughed. "Why don't you keep it? Consider it a wedding present from me." With that I strode for the door as the commotion behind me reached hysterical levels. People in the audience were yelling at each other, Cecily and her mother were weeping in each other's arms, and Rufus was yelling at Brandon. At that moment, in a bizarre but strangely appropriate decision, the bandleader picked up his baton and instructed the musicians to play. I smiled as I walked out the door. "Too bad they didn't play 'Nearer My God to Thee,'" I thought. "That would have been the perfect conclusion to this shipwreck!" In all the confusion, no one came after me. Or maybe it was just the memory of the Bowie knife still swinging from my belt. In any event, I managed to get to my car and drive off without further incident. Once I was out on the interstate heading north, the adrenaline began to wear off and I began to shake. Then an enormous tiredness came over me. I thought about stopping to sleep, but it was more important to me to get home. For sure, I thought, I didn't want to be arrested anywhere near Savannah. I rolled down the car windows to let the cool night air could blow over my face to keep me awake. As I drove, I thought about what I'd chosen to do. If I had killed Brandon Hilton, I would have wound up in jail, leaving my family destitute. Moreover, I would have deprived the two babies of the support that Hilton would soon have to start paying. I guess in one sense I had become a sort of vigilante, but I'd done it my way, within the law. I'd gotten a measure of satisfaction from Brandon Hilton without committing violence -- except to his hair, I thought with a smirk. I'd made sure that he would pay for what he had done and keep on paying till both those babies became adults. My daughter could certainly use the money to raise baby Bridget, and with any luck the extra income would help get Lori out of my house that much quicker. As a bonus I'd also managed to give Rufus Carleton his comeuppance, and if my little stunt had caused him to waste a ton of money on a fancy wedding, that was just gravy as far as I was concerned. Whatever happened now, I felt good, like a heavy weight had been lifted off my back. It was well after midnight when I finally reached our neighborhood in Atlanta. I was planning to try to be extra quiet when I went inside so as not to awaken anyone, but when I pulled into the driveway, the lights on the main floor were all on. When I started up the front walk, the door burst open and Bridget, Emily and even Lori came running out with tears streaming down their faces. Emily was the first to reach me and she fell into my arms sobbing. "Oh, Daddy, I was so scared!" Then Bridget caught up and began trying to hug me while simultaneously beating my arms and chest with her fist. "Don't you ever do something crazy like that again, John Manning! What if they'd attacked you? What if someone had brought a gun?" I gathered the two of them in my arms and led them back into the house. The two women wouldn't let me go, and all three of us tumbled onto the couch in exhaustion. When Bridget felt the scabbard pushing against her side, she made me pull out the Bowie knife and show it to her, along with the baggy full of Brandon's hair. "I can't believe you took that thing with you!" she exclaimed. Then she looked at me quizzically. "You do know this hair won't be considered valid evidence, don't you?" she asked. "I know," I said. "The court will order him to give a new sample for the trial. But getting this one was a lot of fun, and it sure made my point to everyone there. Besides, it scared the piss out of Brandon -- literally!" Then a thought struck me. "How do you all know what happened down there?" "I told them," Lori said quietly. "Cecily called me and told me what happened." "Cecily called you? You haven't talked to her in years," I said incredulously. "I know," Lori said, "but she had to call me to find out if what you'd said about Brandon was really true. When I told her everything that had happened, she told me she'd start seeking an annulment tomorrow." I nodded. I was glad to hear the news. Tears were still streaming down Lori's face. "I know you didn't do it for me, John, but thank you for saving Cecily from that monster. It's going to be very hard on her for a while, but at least she learned the truth now rather than later. Thank you for saving my little sister." I nodded again. I'd done what I'd done for my own reasons, but I still felt better knowing that Cecily's life wouldn't be screwed up by that amoral bastard. Despite my fears, the police never did show up at our house that night, nor the next day either. I thought for sure that Rufus would come after me, but apparently he directed his rage at Brandon instead. Life for that young man went downhill fast. As she had told Lori, Cecily sought and obtained an annulment for her wedding, arguing successfully that Brandon had withheld vital information from her. Meanwhile, at the trial for the two paternity suits I'd filed, the court ruled that he was indeed the father of both Lori's and Emily's babies, and it awarded both women appropriate child support. With his vital statistics on record with the Georgia Division of Child Support Services, Brandon Hilton became a marked man. The wedding reception became the tale of the year, and although the guest list totaled only 500, thousands of Savannans claimed to have been there to witness the debacle. Not surprisingly, Brandon left town shortly afterwards. I heard that he now holds a low-level government job with the City of Macon. What really surprised me was that Rufus Carleton apparently helped him get the job. I guess Rufus decided that Brandon's having a job was in the best interests of everyone concerned. Of course, after making two child support payments every month, Brandon doesn't have a lot of discretionary income left over. Cecily and Lori continued to stay in touch with one another, and ultimately Lori moved back to Savannah. I guess without me Rufus was willing to welcome her back into the fold. Or maybe he realized that banishing his daughter hadn't been such a wise move after all. Either way, her departure was a relief to me. After all that happened, I wish I could say that I forgave her, but that would be a lie, and I was glad to have her out of my life. Emily is still living at home, but she wants to find a place of her own soon. She's gotten a good job here in Atlanta and is taking classes at night towards her college degree. She's also recovered enough to start to re-establish a social life. Being a single mother doesn't make that easy, but Bridget and I are happy to babysit, and that helps. Yes, Bridget and I got married in a small, private ceremony. She told me after my vigilante adventure that she wasn't going to let me out of her sight, so I decided to accept the inevitable and make it legal. Now that my personal excursion into vigilantism is over, I've decided to write a book on the subject. Hopefully in the future my only involvement with those who want to take the law into their own hands will be academic. However, it seems that there's one potential vigilante still left in my life. My new wife took the Bowie knife and had it framed and hung over our mantle. She's warned me in no uncertain terms that if I "ever pull a damned-fool stunt like that again" she'll take it down and do some surgery I'll never forget. I think she's kidding, but I don't intend to risk finding out.