A Father Beyond Compare

by Alison Roberts

  'But—'

  'No buts. You do what Tom tells you to do or I'm going to have to get cross.'

  'Can you stand up, Mickey?' Tom tried to sound encouraging. 'Carefully, though, so you don't hurt Mummy.'

  'No-o-o.' The small face was as frightened as the voice.

  'It's a bit hard for.. .him to stand up.' Emma had a distinct wobble in her voice now.

  'My legs only work sometimes,' Mickey said.

  Tom frowned, trying to assimilate the new information. Mickey had said nothing hurt but he did seem very small for his age.

  'Disability?' he queried succinctly.

  'Mild spina bifida,' Emma responded. 'Just starting to walk...with callipers.'

  'Anything else I should know?'

  Emma shook her head. 'Other than no leg strength, he's perfect. Aren't you, darling?'

  This time the smile wasn't for Tom. It was for a child who was very clearly deeply loved. Emma was pressing a kiss to Mickey's wet head and Tom could see the way she screwed her eyes shut, forcing back tears.

  'No problem, then.' Lower-limb weakness wouldn't make any difference as far as rescuing Mickey went. And Tom wouldn't have to worry about being kicked in the shins by a terrified child. He leaned further into the compartment. 'Just put your arms up, Mickey. I'm going to pick you up.'

  Emma had to peel two small arms from around her neck. 'Be a good boy,' she told Mickey. 'Love you.'

  'I love you, too, Mummy.'

  Mickey was sobbing but he held his arms up to Tom. It wasn't hard to pick the small child up but easing the burden through the gap was a little trickier. The van rocked and a dreadful scraping noise could be heard as it moved against the logs.

  'Mummy!' Mickey wailed.

  'It's all right,' Tom said loudly. 'Just hang on, Mickey.' He poked his head back through the gap just for a second. 'I'll be back very soon,' he told Emma.

  'Just look after Mickey.' Emma couldn't hold back a sob. 'Please.'

  Tom took a step through water that was several inches deeper than when he had gone the other way only minutes before.

  'Josh? Send the nappy harness down, mate. Pronto.'

  'You know what you're doing, Tom?'

  Tom grinned. 'Hope so.'

  It was a hair-raising operation. Tom had to hold a terrified and wriggling child as he opened the side door. Mickey's legs might be hanging rather limply but he was making up for the physical deficit with a wiry little upper body and two very active arms. Tom found a foothold on a part of one of the bunk beds that allowed him to stand just half out of the van. It wasn't until he saw that the winch line was within reach that he started the most dangerous part of his plan.

  With Mickey firmly grasped under one arm, he climbed onto the side of the van, grabbed the hook and clipped it on. Mickey was struggling too hard to try and put his legs into the nappy harness and it would have been too big for him anyway, so Tom just held him even more securely.

  'Bring us up, Josh.'

  As his feet left the side of the van and they dangled in mid-air, the terror was enough to make Mickey go limp all over, apart from two small arms that were wound so tightly around Tom's neck that it was hard to breathe. It proved a problem when they reached the open door of the helicopter and Josh leaned out to take the child. Mickey wouldn't let go.

  'I've got to go and get Mummy,' Tom shouted into the small ear. 'You have to go with Josh.'

  There was no time to try and reassure him. This was a dodgy enough transfer anyway when there was no extra line to protect the child. Tom held his breath as he felt his partner's hands take hold of Mickey. He had to let go and hope that his precious burden made it safely into the interior of the helicopter. His heart was still pounding as he saw Josh deposit the child into a seat and try to shorten a safety harness enough to be useful.

  'Mickey's got spina bifida, Josh. Any lower-limb paresis is normal.' He leaned back on the skid. 'Let's move. Winch me down again.'

  'ETA for the boats and fire crews is only ten minutes, Tom. Wait for back-up.'

  'No.' Looking down between his feet, Tom could see that the van's position had altered slightly. 'This won't take long.'

  How much had Josh and Terry overheard through his communication equipment? Did they know that Emma was trapped? Had they noticed the change in the van's position on the debris?

  Was he mad to even think of going back? Of course he was. But Tom could see Mickey staring at him and he could only think of the larger version of those terrified dark eyes. Of a brave young mother who was alone and praying for rescue right now.

  He tried to keep his tone upbeat. 'Can't leave a job half-done,' he said. 'And if the boats are on the way you probably won't even need to winch me back up.'

  'Wind's come up a bit,' Terry said. 'I'm not sure about this, Tom.'

  'We've done it once. We can do it again.'

  'You really sure you want to try?'

  Tom looked at Mickey again. Then he looked down at the swirling river and the van that contained his mother.

  'Oh, yeah.. .I'm sure.'

  Terry grunted. Josh shook his head as he turned to the winch control panel and his voice sounded resigned.

  'Checking winch power. Clear skids.'

  Terry's permission was equally reluctant but it came nonetheless a second later.

  'Clear skids.'

  With a final glance and a thumbs-up signal for the tiny boy looking lost inside an adult-sized harness, Tom began his second descent.

  Looking way downriver from the vantage point of his altitude, Tom could see vehicular activity on a stony shore where the canyon widened again. Red and blue lights flashed and figures could be seen emerging from the four-wheel-drive rescue Jeeps. Large black rafts were carried on trailers.

  They weren't even in the water yet but at least they were nearby. If the worst happened and the van got swept away, Tom would just have to find a way to free Emma and then keep her afloat until a boat reached them. It wasn't an impossible task.

  It couldn't be.

  Unhooking his winch cable as his feet touched the side of the van felt no less horrible despite the practice run. The metal seemed more slippery and the van less stable. Tom's fingers missed the handle on the first sweep and he was aware of a very unfamiliar sensation too close to panic. It was impossible to take a deep breath to steady himself with the amount of water splashing around him. If he missed the handle on the second try he would have to aim for the wheel and his weight on that might be enough to tip them all towards disaster.

  When he caught the handle and the door slid open of its own accord Tom realised just how much the van's position had changed and there was no relief to be found in gaining access. Had Emma managed to keep her head above the water level? Was she still conscious?

  'Emma! Can you hear me?' Tom waded through the water and debris, almost falling in his haste to reach the gap. He ignored the rocking of the vehicle—the silence he could detect around him was far more ominous.

  'Emma!'

  CHAPTER TWO

  She was so cold. Emma had never been this cold in her entire life. She had never been this terrified. She could ignore the deep ache in her leg, even dismiss the sharp pain in her ribs when she tried to take a deeper breath but she couldn't escape the terror.

  Not while she was alone like this, anyway. It had almost gone for a while back there—when Tom had been with them. Having Mickey to focus on had been an overwhelming distraction as well. How long had it been since Tom had taken her son away? Five minutes? Forty-five minutes? Impossible to tell.

  At least her teeth weren't chattering hard enough to feel like they were going to shatter now. And her head was still above water, although every so often the van rocked enough to make a wave lap against her face. Emma had to screw her eyes tightly shut when that happened and hold her breath. And pray that Mickey, at least, had made it to safety.

  This was all so unfair. So stupid! What right had she to drag her son off on what was probably a wild-goose chase
? She could have stayed where she was and come to terms with always having that shadow hanging over her life. She could have kept them both safe. Her parents had thought she was wasting her money.

  'Have a holiday closer to home, for goodness' sake,' her mother had said more than once. 'There's absolutely no point in going all the way to New Zealand. He could have found you last year, you know—if he'd really wanted to.'

  Spain would have been nice. Or the south of France. Or a Greek island. A nice short plane ride away from Wales. Mickey could have built sandcastles while Emma lazed on a beach and tried to sort out the direction she wanted to take at this crossroads in her life.

  Instead, she was trapped in a van. Waiting to be swept to her death. Or maybe to drown first, the way the van was rocking and sending water over her face right now. Either way she was going to die. Alone.

  No. Emma took a gasping breath in between the waves. She wasn't going to give up. She was only twenty-eight, for God's sake, and she had a young child who depended on her.

  And.. .and she wasn't alone. She could hear someone yelling her name.

  'Tom? Is that you?' Emma opened her eyes and thoughts of imminent death faded. She couldn't see much of the paramedic's face, what with the helmet and visor and a microphone attachment but she could see enough. Dark eyes that were fastened on her. And a smile that could light the darkest of places.

  Even the place they were both in right now.

  'How it's going, then?'

  Such a silly question but Emma was so relieved to see Tom that she had to smile. Then she had an important question of her own. 'Mickey?'

  'He's safe. On board the chopper and they'll be taking him to the ambulance crew to get checked out.'

  'Was he.. .good? No trouble?'

  Tom was grinning. 'I only got pinched a few times. He didn't want to leave his mum.'

  Emma couldn't hold the tears back. Relief vied with panic that she would never see her child again.

  'Hey...' Tom was squeezing himself as far through the gap as he could without falling on top of Emma. 'It's going to be all right. We'll get you out of here in no time.'

  She believed him. Almost. 'But my foot's still stuck.'

  'I'm going to see if I can do something about that. How are you feeling otherwise?' Tom stripped off a glove and reached down to take hold of her wrist. 'You're pretty cold, aren't you?'

  He was taking her pulse. Although her hands were almost numb with the cold, Emma could feel the contact. The warmth of another human touching her. The fear of dying alone evaporated. Even the fear of dying at all faded. If anyone could get her out of this, it would be this big man, with his reassuringly calm manner and that wonderful smile.

  'Are you having any trouble breathing?'

  'It hurts a bit. I think my ribs got a bit bruised by the steering-wheel.'

  'How's your neck? And your head?'

  'Fine...I think.'

  'Were you knocked out?'

  'No.'

  'Do you know what day it is?'

  'Um...Wednesday.' Tom was trying to assess her level of consciousness. 'The fourteenth,' she supplied. 'We came over on the ferry from North Island yesterday. . .and we were taking a roundabout route to get to Christchurch.'

  'Where are you from?'

  'Wales.'

  Tom was grinning again. 'Can you sing?'

  Emma actually laughed. 'Not right now.'

  'Fair enough.' Tom leaned further in. Emma could have wrapped her arms around his neck if she'd wanted to. And she did want to. Very much.

  'I'm just going to have a feel down your leg,' Tom told her.

  'OK.'

  'I hope you don't say that to every man you've just met.' It was astonishing how Tom could actually make a joke of trying to assess how badly she was trapped. It was a great technique, though. Emma trusted him completely. She would do whatever she had to do to be co-operative.

  'Ow!'

  'Sorry. You've got some trauma. You're bleeding a bit.'

  Emma had heard that kind of understatement from medical professionals more than once.

  'I do feel pretty weird. Have I lost enough to be in shock, do you think?' Dark eyes flicked up to meet hers and Emma smiled wryly. 'I'm a nurse,' she told Tom. 'I've probably imagined the worst-case scenario here in lurid detail.'

  'I'll bet.' Tom was pulling at something well below the water line. Emma felt something metallic scraping against her leg and bit her lip to prevent crying out and restricting his efforts. 'What kind of nursing?'

  'I used to be a theatre nurse. I've worked, in Emergency, too, and loved that. I've just been a general practice nurse since Mickey was born and I'm more than ready for a change.'

  'Not exciting enough?'

  'No.'

  'So you came looking for some adventure.' Tom grunted with the effort of trying to bend something from his upside down position.

  'Not this kind.'

  'Long way to come.' Tom adjusted his position. He used one hand to anchor himself on the doorhandle just behind Emma's head and twisted, pushing his other arm further into the water. 'Have you got family in New Zealand?'

  Did Mickey's father count? 'Not exactly.'

  'Friends?'

  'Um...' What she and Simon had had could hardly be described as 'friendship'. A wild affair with undying passion declared on both sides. Something that had ignited so quickly it had bypassed anything resembling a friendship. A conflagration that had been over even more quickly than it had begun.

  'Not really,' Emma told Tom.

  'You don't sound too sure.'

  'Mmm.' That was it in a nutshell, wasn't it? Emma wasn't sure. 'It's a bit complicated.'

  'Ah-h...' Tom sounded sympathetic but polite. He was still trying to bend whatever piece of metal was trapping Emma's leg. He was also clearly trying to distract her with some conversation but didn't want to tread on any ground that was too personal. 'So you were heading for Christchurch?'

  'Yes.'

  'My home town.'

  'Really?' Why did that suddenly make the largest city in South Island a much more attractive destination?

  'Yep.' Tom grunted with the effort he was putting into trying to shift the piece of metal. 'Not necessarily a tourist Mecca, though. How come you're not heading for Queenstown or Milford?'

  'Mickey's father lives in Christchurch.'

  'Oh...' The sound carried a wealth of understanding this time. Too much. 'He must be looking forward to seeing you guys.'

  'He doesn't know we're coming.' Emma wasn't sure why she was blurting out so much information here. Maybe her fear was still too real. If she didn't make it, someone would have to take responsibility for getting Mickey back to his grandparents.

  'You're separated?' Tom looked up for an instant which gave the impression he was particularly interested in her response.

  'We were never together.'

  'Oh...right.' Tom bent his head again. Emma could feel his hand on her leg, searching for a better position to tackle the obstacle. She could also feel his puzzlement.

  Of course they had been together. Mickey's conception had hardly been immaculate, had it?

  'I ended the relationship,' Emma explained, 'the day I found out I was pregnant with Mickey.'

  Tom's face appeared even more swiftly. 'You mean he doesn't know about Mickey yet?'

  Emma could sense his disapproval. As though she had disappointed him on some level involving honesty or morality. The need to defend herself was the best distraction he'd come up with so far.

  'Simon hadn't seen fit...to tell me that he was married,' she informed Tom. 'So I didn't really feel he was automatically entitled to the truth from me.'

  Funny how being faced with the possibility of losing her life hadn't made the guilt go away. In fact, it had just grown stronger, inexplicably fed by the sense of disapproval from a man who was a complete stranger. A stranger she was dependent on if she was going to make it out of this.

  Maybe she could help him understand.

>   'Have you got kids, Tom?'

  'Hell, no!' The sound Tom made could only be described as a relieved chuckle. 'I've managed to avoid them so far.'

  So he didn't like children, this hero who had just saved her own child? She was curious that the information should seem so disappointing but he had saved Mickey so Emma decided she should just feel grateful. He was risking his own life again to try and save her and there was no amount of gratitude that could ever encompass that. Especially when success was far from guaranteed.

  As if to emphasise the point, the van suddenly moved. It rocked and then twisted and Emma cried out in alarm. The cry changed to a choking sound as water broke over her face and for a few moments Emma lost her focus on what was happening. Panic clawed at ,her and she struggled, aware of a sharp pain in her foot and a vice-like grip around her upper body.

  'Emma! Emma! Try and hold still for just a bit longer. We're almost there.'

  How many times had Tom repeated his command before the words made sense? Before Emma stopped coughing and spluttering and struggling to try and escape?

  'I'm...sorry,' she finally sobbed. 'I'm just so scared.'

  'I know.' Tom's words were clipped enough for Emma to realise that she wasn't the only one scared by the new movement of the vehicle.

  'You should get out.. .while you still can, Tom.'

  'No way, babe. We're getting out of this together.' He was pulling at her foot. It hurt like hell but Emma tried to help, pulling as hard as she could.

  'Try turning your foot,' Tom instructed. 'We're almost—'

  His words were cut off as the van shifted again. This time it rolled sideways far enough to put Emma's head right under water. For one paralysing moment she couldn't think of anything more than the horror of drowning.

  Then she felt that strong grasp still holding her leg. She remembered the last words she'd heard and twisted her leg, pushing instead of pulling at her foot.

  And something moved. Her foot was free. Her leg was being dragged upwards, away from the crumpled compartment. Emma's whole body was moving upwards and for a moment her head was above water again. Just long enough to gulp in a lungful of air and to realise that Tom was trying to move her through the window gap into the back of the van. To where the side door was that he'd entered.