. 10

Author's note:

This is, in all its seven parts and their many chapters, one very,

very

long story. If long stories bother you, I suggest you read something else.

No part of this story is written so as to stand on its own. I strongly suggest that you start with

the beginning of Part 1

and read sequentially—giving up at any point you choose, of course.

All sexual activity portrayed anywhere in this story involves only people at least eighteen years old.

This entire story is posted only on literotica.com. Any other public posting without my permission in writing is a violation of my copyright.

Abraham's birth looked like being a birthday present for me, but labor stretched into the wee hours of the next morning. And since Ellen's birthday was only six days later than mine, we could also consider him an early twenty-third birthday present for her.

We agreed that I would be present, but I asked not to participate. I was worried that I might fall apart at an important moment. Ellen didn't go into her reasons, but she agreed that was a good idea. A woman from church, a little older and with two kids of her own, agreed to serve as coach, and went with her through the classes. I tagged along, though.

In the end, I didn't come unglued, but I might have, had I actually been participating. Descriptions I had heard and read, from fathers present at childbirth, tended to use words like "awesome" and "amazing" and "wonderful." What I found amazing was that children ever get born at all. Seeing Ellen in obvious pain, which I couldn't do anything to alleviate, was horribly painful to me. My guts twisted up until I thought I might throw up. I became somewhat convinced that she was not going to survive the process. Maybe I would have kept my focus if I had been the one responsible for telling her when to push, and all that. Maybe.

I also found amazing the way the baby almost seemed to just pop the rest of the way out, after all the work needed to get him started.

Later, in the hospital room, Ellen told me it really hadn't been as painful as it had looked to me. I wasn't sure I trusted her memory on that, though. She also told me it had been a lot of hard work, though, and I had absolutely no doubt about that! No probable, possible shadow of doubt—no possible doubt whatever.

They let me hold Avi for a while, and that was a little scary, too—he felt so tiny and fragile. Ellen was able to go to sleep, after a little while. The room was provided with a comfortable recliner chair, and I was able to stay with her.

We had brought clothes for Ellen, but I never thought about a change of clothes for me. In the late afternoon—well, it was after noon before we woke up—I drove home to shower and change. I came back and spent another night in that chair, and that evening we went home.

Jumping ahead, I'll add that the next two births were a lot easier on me. I'm not completely unable to learn from experience! Our kids are really, really good, and I love them tremendously. But none of them would have been much good as a replacement for Ellen. That first time was really scary.

Once Abraham was born, of course, everything about our lives changed. A few months after, when she had recovered a lot from childbirth, Ellen resumed running and more, but of course we couldn't run at the same time, unless my parents had Avi. The pattern we came up with was for me to continue running and lifting weights in the mornings, and then watch Avi in the evenings while Ellen exercised. I didn't like having her out alone in the evenings, so I usually went with her, and sat with the baby, trying to read enough to keep up on my field a little.

By the time Avi was mobile, and especially as he was starting to walk—toddle—this became more of a challenge to manage, but we still tried. One evening, as we walked home, we got to a spot that wasn't all that well lit. It wasn't full dark out, yet, but it was getting darker fast. Ellen had had Avi in a backpack contraption, but he had wanted to be down and walking, so we were letting him for a few minutes. I was holding his hand, to keep him moving in the right direction, as opposed to—say—into the street.

Suddenly, a man was standing in front of us, brandishing a big knife. He grabbed Ellen's arm.

"Now, here's what's going to happen," he said. "Your woman's goin' with me, and your kid stays with you. If you want to make trouble, I take her, and the kid stays with your body. Got that?"

I was terrified, but somehow I managed to keep my head—my focus. I let go of Avi's hand and started talking to the man, and I really didn't have much idea what I was saying, but I moved away from him and behind him. He started to turn, and when Ellen didn't follow, he let go of her arm to turn toward me and follow me. Whatever I was saying kept his attention. Ellen snatched Avi up and backed away. I found out later that she immediately grabbed her phone and called 9‑1‑1, trying to talk quietly enough not to be noticed.

The man threatened me again, and I again said I know not what. He abruptly lunged at me with the knife, and a moment later he hit the sidewalk head first and didn't move.

I headed quickly over to make sure Ellen was OK, but I thought she was doing better than I was. She handed Avi to me, and she said, "We'd probably better wait for the police to get here. I hope it won't be too long." And it wasn't.

A police car came up fast, and stopped, two policemen hopping out. They relaxed some—by no means completely, though—as they took in the scene, but they immediately called for an ambulance. They were wearing cameras. They took up positions somewhat apart—where they could cover each other, I guessed. I thought that they had relaxed with the idea that I was hampered by holding a toddler, as well as with the absence of an ongoing confrontation.

One of them asked what had happened, and I gave a brief description. Ellen said that she was the one who had called 9‑1‑1, doing so as soon as she thought she safely could. Another car pulled up, and two more officers emerged. One went immediately to the man lying on the ground, while his partner stood where he could cover everyone present. The one checking our assailant reported that he was breathing and not bleeding, and said they would wait for the ambulance.

I said, "His knife is somewhere over there. I'm sure he dropped it when I threw him. And he hit his head, probably pretty hard, when he went down." The officer pointed the knife out, a bit farther down and off the sidewalk, but made no move then to look at it closely.

The first officer asked us for identification. I said, "May I hand our son over to my wife? I've got her ID as well as my own. She was working out at the gym, and I was holding it for her." Her phone was in a holder strapped to her arm.

Receiving permission, I very carefully handed Avi to Ellen. Slowly and carefully, keeping one hand in full view, I got out my wallet and extracted my license, then put the wallet back, and then did the same with Ellen's—which was much slenderer, as she had transferred her license and gym membership card just before we set out. She kept a little cash in it, but for going to the gym with me she didn't carry credit cards and so on. Of course, she had a diaper bag strapped onto the backpack. After that, I kept my hands in sight and tried to keep calm.

The ambulance came up, and the EMTs reported that the man was alive but unconscious. They thought he might have a concussion. They put him on a stretcher and took him away.

The policeman said, "I'm sorry Mr. Morris, Mrs. Morris, but you're all going to have to come to the station with us. I'm afraid we'll need to frisk you both, and look in that backpack, too. You aren't carrying any weapons, are you?"

I said, "We're unarmed, but I have a small penknife in my pocket." He had me get it out, and took charge of it, then had me lean against the car while he frisked me. I went on, "I understand that you need to take us in to establish what happened, but it's past my son's bedtime already, and about at ours. I hope we can keep it brief. My wife and I aren't likely to fuss the way our son may, but we really are pretty tired."

He said, "We'll keep it as brief as we can, sir. Now, ma'am, if you will let me take the backpack off you for a moment, I'll check it and you." She switched arms for Avi as needed to let him get it off. He set it down and frisked her quickly and carefully, then went quickly through the backpack and diaper bag. I noticed that it might have been possible for a small item in her sports bra to have escaped notice—he kept his hands off her breasts. I assumed that this indicated that he wasn't seriously concerned—and of course, it was snug enough to show pretty well that she wasn't carrying things. He carefully patted her baggy shorts all over, checking for objects under them rather than copping a feel. Later, at the station, a policewoman took Ellen into a room and search her more thoroughly.

They separated us for questioning, presumably so that we couldn't coordinate our stories. The policewoman took Ellen, with a policeman, and Avi went with them. Ellen later told me that the policeman hadn't said much, but had played peekaboo with Avi, mostly keeping him entertained—though he clearly listened closely and put in one question.

I was again taken through what happened. It seemed that there was some record out there of the time Sharkey had accosted me on the street. They asked about that. I said, "We were on our honeymoon, and we went to visit a friend who lived in a nearby town. On our way, we went in to do a little gift shopping, for our friend and her parents, and also for people who were putting us up." I started to explain about that, but the officer who was mostly asking said that didn't matter.

"As we left the shop and were walking back to our car, a guy we knew from high school spotted us. He quietly ran up behind us, and grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. The first I knew was his hand on my shoulder, though—a bystander described his actions. He had a grudge against me from back then, and he ranted at me for a minute and then threw a punch at my face. That came out of the blue—except that his body language made it obvious that he was going to hit me. So I dodged him, grabbed his wrist as it went by, and twisted his arm behind him to hold him.

"I was trying to calm him down by talking to him. Mind you, with the hold I had, I could have hurt him badly if I'd needed to. Anyway, a bystander had called 9‑1‑1, and the police came up and separated us. Some bystanders explained what they had seen, and it seemed that the police knew him from at least one earlier unprovoked attack on someone, so they let us go. They said I had grounds to press charges, but that the hassle for me was way out of proportion to the likelihood of anything coming of it—and since we were only in that town for a couple of hours more anyway, we were happy to leave it at that."

He said, "You just held that man and talked to him, but this one you threw hard enough that he was left unconscious. Please explain that."

I said, "That time on our honeymoon—. Um. I need to back up. While we were at high school, one of the students attacked an instructor with a knife, and he threw him. The instructor taught PhysEd, and it seems he knew some martial arts system, and defended himself by throwing the attacker. We were all shown a film of the event, later. Anyway, for some reason, from before we were married, my wife has worried about someone attacking me like that someday, and she insisted on my getting martial arts training, so I have, for several years now. Mostly taekwondo, and I've always been upfront with my instructors that what I wanted was just to be able to defend myself. I'm sure you understand that there's kind of a blurry line between moves for attack and defense, though.

"At any rate, when Sharkey went after me, I almost threw him. You understand, you practice these moves until they're a reflex. I managed to think in time, and to convert my move to just get a standard wrestling hold on him. I had no desire to hurt him, and I was sure I could defend myself. He's a little bigger than I am, and he was always kind of a tough-guy type, but even as a beginner I could see that I could handle him as much as I needed to.

"This guy had a knife, and I really had no idea of his capabilities, and he was threatening Ellen, and he might have hurt Abraham too. I just let my reflexes take over, because I didn't think I had leeway to do anything but defend myself. I didn't set out to do more than that. It's fair to say I was scared half to death, this time.

"I don't think the attack I mentioned, on the teacher, will be in your files. It happened out of the country. But if you like, I think I can give you contact information for him. We've kept in touch, a little, and we've discussed my martial arts training."

He asked a few more questions, but it looked like he was basically satisfied. About this time, they brought Ellen and Avi out, too. Avi kind of ran to me. He was tired, and I thought all the strangeness was getting to him. He was pretty clingy.

It turned out that once again Ellen had managed to get the actual attack into a video with her phone. It started right after she had called 9‑1‑1, and the light was bad, but we could make out his coming at me with the knife, and my throwing him. The police immediately wanted a copy, for evidence. None of his first speech was there, of course. The video began with me backing away as he followed me with his knife, and then his attack and my throw.

They made us wait while statements were prepared for us to sign. When the statements were ready, we both read them closely. I had encountered such things before—in fiction only, but the same impersonal flavor was present in these. In mine, for sure, the words were mostly mine, but thoroughly condensed and, well, pureed. Where there had been questions and my answers wouldn't have made sense out of context, the questions had been reworded and put into my mouth, as introductory clauses. So, "Why were you there at that time?" became "We were there because," for example. None of this distorted in the least the meaning of what I had said, so I didn't comment on it—but it didn't sound very much like something I would have said.

Ellen's statement sounded similar, as far as that went, and certainly supported what I had said. I was startled by one bit in the middle. Ellen had said that, far from seeking to pick fights or even quarrels, I was invariably courteous even in the face of great provocation, and that she had seen this on many occasions before we were married or even knew each other very well. But then she added that if I had seen a stranger being accosted violently in the way she was, I almost certainly would have sought to intervene.

Apparently, my surprise showed. I was asked what brought on my reaction. I read the relevant sentences, and said, "I'd like to think that's true, but with Ellen and Abraham to think of, I might just have tried to call 9‑1‑1. I admit that my first impulse might have been to get involved, though."

The policewoman laughed. "A lot of people say they would have gotten involved, but not many do. In your case, I believe your wife, especially since you're ready to say you're not sure. The ones who are full of hot air tend to be really, really sure."

I asked, and then took pictures of the statements. We signed, and they told us not to leave town without notifying them, and then they took us home. They also told us that the attacker was in the hospital with a concussion, but was wanted in connection with both armed robberies and rapes. I gathered they were pleased to have him in custody, except for having to have someone guarding him in the hospital.

And, indeed, we found a notice of his capture in the newspaper a couple of days later. It described in general terms what had happened—without identifying us or giving details that would identify us—and referred to the other cases. He was eventually convicted on a several of those, cases where he had actually succeeded in harming someone or stealing money. DNA evidence and videos from security cameras identified him clearly—once he was in custody.

One of the policemen called me to say that they didn't expect us ever to have to testify, since they had plenty to charge him with, and that we were free to travel without notifying them. He said, in passing, that I had done a good job in self-defense, protecting myself and Ellen and Avi without harming the attacker more than necessary. I thought that he meant that, if I had done more damage, the police would have had to spend a lot of time determining that I had been justified. But I also felt good at the comment.

My taekwondo instructor also was pleased with me when I showed him the video and described the course of events. This one, like my instructor back at the university, was in favor of restraint and thought, as long as it didn't slow the student down, but he saw that I didn't have much room for restraint in the situation. And, well, I easily could have hurt him a lot worse.

When we got home, we had a lot of trouble settling Avi down for the night. He wasn't really talking all that much yet, or even understanding much—adult things, I mean—but I was pretty sure that he had felt the tension and fear. And of course it was way, way past his bedtime, and he was tired. But he finally settled down and slept.

When we finally got ourselves into bed, Ellen held me so tight I wasn't sure what to make of it. Finally, she said, "In one way I knew everything would be OK, but I was also as scared as I've ever been in my life. I knew you would give your life defending me, if it came to that, and I couldn't help being afraid it would." She kind of shivered a little, and didn't say anything more for a moment.

"Phil, that was what I saw. I saw you backing away, and him following you with the knife. I didn't know I would be there, and certainly not Avi. And I saw him lunge at you—and nothing more. I was afraid to tell you more than I did, but it was him, I knew him the minute he stepped in front of us. And I never saw what happened next, until tonight. But you were magnificent. As always."

We made love, and the way some people think of it, it wasn't very good for Ellen. She didn't come—in fact she never really got all that aroused. I certainly tried! Sex wasn't what she needed that night, except as something to give me. Right away, she told me to quit delaying and just go in. There are times just to give her what she wants. She was about as passionate as I had ever known her to be. Not like our wedding night, not quite, and there had been a few more times, but she was saying, 'I love you,' as thoroughly as she ever had, with every moment's contact. Passion, not arousal. Desire for contact and reassurance, not for physical pleasure.

If I had insisted, she would have tried for arousal and orgasm. But if she had promised to obey me, I had promised to cherish her, and that meant giving her what she wanted and needed in this case. In most cases. She was so precious to me!

In the morning, she told me, "I hope you'll keep up the taekwondo anyway. Just because I've never seen you need it again doesn't mean you won't. But I can stop dreading seeing him come at you with a knife, at least." She stopped for a moment. "Phil, you know we rarely know the real reasons things happen—the ultimate reasons. You're the one who told me that, after all! But now that I think about it, what really was the likelihood of our running into Sharkey when and where we did? Jenny hadn't known he was around, in town, either, remember! It looks to me like he was there to give you some easy practice, and to encourage you to persevere on the martial arts training and practice. And maybe a pop quiz or something, for your benefit and mine. Preparation for last night. But was last night the final exam, or the midterm? I'm a little worried that this is just more preparation for something much bigger, someday." And that made all too much sense to me, too.