Relief had definitely been out of order. Emma loved dogs herself but she had a healthy respect for a breed like German shepherds. Her anxiety must have shown because Tom was smiling at her.
That same gorgeous smile that had yesterday brightened the most terrifying ordeal of her life. It seemed bigger today. Tom seemed bigger. His presence was almost overpowering in the confines of the private side room of the ward Emma was in. She might have expected him to be less physically impressive out of his paramedic uniform, especially dressed so casually in faded, blue denim jeans and a soft-looking, open-necked white shirt, but the opposite was true.
And that smile! That 'trust me, everything's going to be just fine' smile.
As if Emma didn't trust him already. Tom had risked his own life to save Mickey. He was hardly likely to endanger a small boy by letting him play with a dangerous animal, was he?
Emma smiled back. Until she realised she had been holding eye contact with Tom just a shade too long. She looked away hurriedly.
'I'll have to thank your sister. I lay awake last night worrying about things like clothes. I don't suppose there's any chance of recovering any of our stuff from the van, is there?'
Tom was shaking his head. 'Not possible, sorry. I checked with the police this morning. Most of the small stuff was washed out to sea and divers couldn't see anything they thought was worth retrieving. It could be a few days before they drag the van out of where it is now but I wouldn't get your hopes up.'
'Oh...' Emma cuddled Mickey close again. 'That's not good. All our clothes. Our passports. Mickey's wheelchair...and his callipers.' Emma's intake of breath was a gulp. 'Just when he was starting to walk so well with them.' The threat of tears loomed as Emma contemplated their situation. So far from family and friends. She couldn't ask Tom for any more help—he was already doing far more than he probably wanted to.
Tom was smiling at her again. Maybe he didn't need to be asked. He had to be the nicest person Emma had ever had the good fortune to meet.
'We'll get it sorted, don't worry. The paediatric ward can do without one of its wheelchairs for a few days and we've got plenty of clothes. Have you got travel insurance?'
'Yes, but all the papers were in the van.'
'Can you remember the company you used?'
'Yes, I think so.'
'Leave it with me, then. Mickey and I will go and let you get some rest. I'll look into the insurance stuff before we come back this afternoon.'
Tom shrugged off Emma's thanks with the same nonchalance with which he had just shouldered her current burdens. She watched him leave with her son and felt no qualms about Mickey's eagerness to get back to his new friend Max.
They seemed to be taking her stress with them and Emma could feel herself smiling as she lay back on her pillows and let a period of healing sleep claim her body again.
'I don't believe it!'
'You talking to me?' Phoebe's gaze was still riveted to the television screen where yet another cartoon on the satellite channel was under way.
'Not really.' Tom dropped the phone onto the couch cushion beside him and raked his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. 'I've just talked to what must be the sixteenth person at that insurance company. It's already taken two days and I don't think I'm any further ahead.'
'At least you've found a real person to talk to instead of the automated answering service.'
'At this rate it'll be Christmas before Emma sees any money. She's due to be discharged tomorrow and she can hardly leave wearing that hospital gown, can she?'
'I can lend her some clothes. What size is she?'
'How would I know something like that?'
'Hey, Mickey?' Phoebe propped herself up on her elbows and turned to her companion, who was still transfixed by the animated action on the television. 'Is your mum fat?'
Mickey nodded.
'Really?'
Max thumped his tail in appreciation of Phoebe's fascinated tone but leaned closer to Mickey, who had one hand buried in the shaggy fur of the dog's neck.
'She is not fat,' Tom declared. He could remember very clearly just how slim that body had been. How easy it had been to hold her as they'd been winched to safety in the helicopter. 'She's as skinny as you are, Phoebs.'
'How tall is she?'
'I don't know.' Tom hadn't seen Emma standing up yet. 'Not short, though. Probably about your height.'
'How old is she?'
'Twenty-eight.' Tom remembered that much from filling in the patient report form.
'Gosh, she was quite young when she had Mickey, then.'
'I guess.'
'Very young.' Phoebe sat up and swivelled to face her brother. 'Accidental, huh?'
'Shh.' Tom frowned a warning for Phoebe to try and curb her tendency to cut straight to the chase. Mickey was clearly not listening to the adult conversation but Phoebe took the hint anyway.
'How long is she going to stay?'
'Until the insurance gets sorted. They can't go anywhere until the temporary passports get here. Which reminds me...' Tom reached for the telephone again. 'I've got another call or three to make.'
'And I'd better get going. I've wasted half my day off already.' Phoebe got to her feet.
'Not wasted,' Tom assured her. 'You've been a great help. You're good with kids.'
'I should be—it's my job.' Phoebe ruffled Mickey's hair. 'See you later, kiddo.'
Mickey just nodded again. Max would have accompanied Phoebe to the door but Mickey still had a death grip on his fur. His tail waved an apology.
'I'll drop in tomorrow,' Phoebe announced as she passed the couch. 'I'd like to meet Emma.'
The assumption was startling. 'What makes you think she's coming here?'
Phoebe easily outdid Tom in sounding surprised. 'Where else has she got to go?'
Where else indeed? Without even a means to identify herself, let alone a credit card, Emma might find it very difficult to get accommodation at a hotel or motel.
Besides, Mickey's mother was still recuperating. She couldn't be expected to cope all by herself. But Tom only had one more day off before he had to go back to work.
Life was getting more complicated by the minute.
Phoebe was watching Tom open and close his mouth and she grinned happily at her brother's obvious dismay.
'You didn't really think you were going to get your empty and boring house back to yourself so soon, did you?'
'It's not boring. Or empty.' Tom looked towards Max and his eyes widened. 'Good grief!'
Phoebe followed his gaze and her grin widened. 'Cool. Good boy, Max.'
'Should he be doing that?'
Phoebe shrugged. 'Why not? If Max wants to be a walking frame it's his call. Looks like good physio to me.'
It looked alarming to Tom. Max was standing up and must have pulled Mickey to his feet. The dog seemed oblivious to the discomfort of having large tufts of his fur providing an anchor for a child who was far from steady on his feet. If Max tried to move, Mickey would fall flat on his face and it would be Tom that would have to try and pick up the pieces.
He frowned at Max.
Max waved his tail. Very gently. And that was the only muscle the dog was moving.
'I'll drop some clothes around later,' Phoebe said. 'You can feed me if you like.'
'Thanks. What would you like for dinner? Barbecue OK?'
'Don't mind.' Phoebe paused at the door. 'Hey, Mickey? What's your favourite thing to eat?'
'Fish and chips.' Mickey was still standing beside Max. A huge smile had replaced a look of intense concentration. 'Look at me, Phoebe!'
'I'm looking. That's awesome standing but don't do it for too long at a time, will you? Your legs will get very tired.'
Mickey was sitting on the floor again by the time Tom closed the door Phoebe had left open. He was laughing aloud at the cartoon.
Tom picked up the phone but didn't dial a number. Somehow the urgency of sorting out Emma's logistical hassles had dim
inished.
Why hadn't he pre-empted Phoebe's assumption that Emma would come to stay for a few days? It was perfectly logical. Why upset Mickey with another move in a strange city when he was quite happy where he was, thanks largely to Max and now Phoebe? And he himself would be around at least part of the time, which would mean Emma could still get some of the rest she was going to need.
Another peal of laughter from Mickey was contagious enough to make Tom smile. Maybe his sister had hit the nail on the head. Even with Max around the house was going to feel pretty empty when Mickey was gone.
Reuniting Emma with her son and having them both there in his home for a few days wasn't just logical.
It simply felt...right.
CHAPTER FOUR
'Are you sure about this, Tom?'
'Absolutely.'
'I love your house.'
'It's just an old villa that needs heaps of work done but there's plenty of space.'
'I'll say. It's huge!'
'Four bedrooms. Two of them are a bit full of junk, though, so I've put you in with Mickey, if that's OK.'
'Perfect. I've missed him so much.' Emma leaned on her crutches for a moment, waiting while Tom lifted her son from the car seat in the back.
'Max!' Mickey shouted happily.
Something that looked remarkably like a wolf bounded around from the back of the house, Emma's jaw dropped. This was Mickey's new best friend?
The dog appeared to be grinning and it was showing every one of an impressive set of huge white teeth. Mickey should have been scared silly but he was laughing aloud, stretching down from Tom's hold with both arms. Tom bent down far enough for Mickey to grab two bunches of fur and amazingly the dog stood completely still, apart from waving his tail.
Emma cleared her throat. 'He.. .um.. .looks friendly.'
She got the full blast of that smile and something inside Emma melted. Tom knew exactly how alarmed she was by the reality of Max and while he might think it was unjustified, he wasn't about to dismiss her fear. He was happy to reassure her instead. And to offer trustworthiness.
And Emma was more than happy to accept.
'It won't be for long,' she assured Tom as he showed her through his comfortable house. 'I'll be back on my feet properly in a few days and then I'll get us sorted.'
'When's the follow-up appointment at the hospital?'
'Four days from now. Hopefully, by then, the insurance will have come through. And then...' Emma paused, having nodded her appreciation of the bathroom facilities she was seeing. What was going to happen then?
Tom looked curious as well. 'Yes?'
'And then I'll be ready to contact Simon.'
'Simon?'
'Mickey's father.'
'Oh.' Tom's tone suggested complete disinterest. He turned abruptly and Emma followed. This was a little disturbing. Was Tom bothered by her plan to contact Simon? Why? Maybe it was an echo of that disapproval she had sensed during her rescue. That she had raised a child alone for nearly five years and had never given the father the right to know about, let alone have anything to do with, his own son.
Did it strike a chord that was more than theoretical? Did Tom have a child he wasn't allowed to be a father to? Somehow that notion was more disturbing than being disapproved of and there was evidence that it might not just be her imagination. There seemed to be a lot of toys in the house. A trail of them led from the hallway back into the living room where Mickey was...
'Oh, my God!' Emma gasped.
Mickey was standing beside the wolf, tufts of black tipped fur protruding from tight little fists. About to move very swiftly to rescue her son, Emma found Tom's hand on her arm.
'He's OK,' Tom murmured. 'Watch.'
Emma watched, her mouth dry and her heart beating a tattoo on her ribs. She could feel every one of Tom's fingers burning an impression through her clothing and into her skin.
She had thought the dog was standing still but he seemed to lean forward now. As Mickey lurched, Max took a very careful step and by some miracle, Mickey was still upright.. .having taken a step.
'He just did that last night for the first time,' Tom whispered. His mouth had to be very close to Emma's ear because she could feel his words as clearly as she could hear them and a shiver ran down her spine. 'I think he's pretty proud of himself.'
The smile on Mickey's face as he looked up to see his audience was more than proof of that. Emma felt tears sting her eyes. With not a calliper or walking frame in sight, her little boy was on his feet.
Briefly. With a plop, Mickey sat down. He was still grinning as Max wiped a long tongue up his cheek and Emma wasn't going to say a thing about germs.
'Did you see me, Mummy? Did you see me and Max?'
'Mmm.' Emma had a lump in her throat that made it hard to get any real words out.
'Phoebe reckons it's good physio,' Tom said. 'Until we can get something sorted at the department.'
'Phoebe? Your sister?' Emma looked down at the jeans and sweatshirt that that were only a size or so too loose. 'The one who's been kind enough to lend me everything?'
'Yeah.' Tom smiled proudly. 'Did I mention she's a physiotherapist?'
'No.'
'A very good one. She works with kids like Mickey all the time. She's been visiting a lot so if you're around long enough to want some treatment for him, she can sort it and Mickey won't feel like he's having to deal with a whole lot of strangers.'
'Phoebe likes fish and chips,' Mickey informed his mother. 'And cartoons.'
Emma had to sit down. To catch her breath.
To chase away this curious—and disturbing—sensation that she was home.
That she had stepped into a fairy-tale ending for this chapter of her life.
That what she was feeling for Tom Gardiner at this moment was an awful lot more than gratitude for the help and friendship he was offering so generously.
It was a hard call. Emma must have swayed slightly on her feet, which would explain why Tom's hand was on her arm again, guiding her towards a wonderfully comfortable-looking sofa.
She shouldn't be feeling the imprint of his hand like this, however. So much stronger than moments ago. A tingling sensation that went straight to a place deep in her abdomen.
Emma lay back on the couch and closed her eyes with a sigh. She was exhausted, that was all. Suffering a lack of physical strength that was making her overly sensitive to someone showing her kindness. It was all too easy for a woman to mistake that for something more significant.
She opened her eyes to see Mickey doing his curious bottom shuffle to move across the floor. She helped him onto the couch and cuddled him, burying her face in his sweet-smelling curls.
Her precious son was safe, that was what really mattered here, and the love Emma felt for her child was enough to remind her that it was wrong to continue hiding his existence from his father. She didn't need Tom's unspoken disapproval to push that message home.
Mickey deserved all the love he could get in his life and he deserved to have a father. As soon as Emma felt strong enough, she would do whatever was necessary to bring them together.
And that fantasy of her reunion with Simon?
Strangely, that seemed to hold far less appeal than it used to.
'Target sighted, nine o'clock.'
'Roger. Turning downwind.'
The move to double-check his harness fastening was automatic. Tom's brain was busy registering a sensation of relief as the next and far more dangerous phase of this callout began.
The relief wasn't due to any tension from having difficulty in locating their target. The group of climbers on New Zealand's highest mountain were experienced and had been able to give a specific location to the plateau they were on.
'Secure aft.' Josh craned his neck as he peered from the window of the helicopter. Impressively sheer rockfaces slid past beneath them, the deep snow filling crevasses blindingly white. 'Checking winch power,' he added.
Tom drew in a deep breath. The
relief wasn't due to knowing that getting to the climber in trouble was time-critical either. The man was in severe respiratory distress, possibly due to a heart attack or high-altitude pulmonary oedema, which could prove easily fatal without a rapid descent and aggressive oxygen therapy. That kind of tension never undermined Tom's state of mind during working hours.
'Turning base leg.' Terry, the pilot, sounded completely focused. 'Three hundred metres to run.'
Within seconds Tom would be on the move. Following a protocol that was automatic but could never be taken lightly. And that was where the relief was stemming from. From now on, this job would require every ounce of Tom's concentration and energy. He let out the deep breath he had been unconsciously holding and allowed himself another moment of relief.
For a while, at least, there would be no room in his head for thoughts about Emma.
'Speed back. Clear door,' Terry instructed.
The helicopter slowed and then rocked a little as Josh slid the door open.
'Door back and locked,' he told Terry. 'Bringing hook inboard.'
Tom attached the hook to his harness and checked the fastenings. He unclipped his safety belt and watched Josh for the signal that he was ready.
Josh gave a terse nod. 'Moving Tom to door. Clear skids.'
'Clear skids.' Terry was ready to make adjustments for the extra weight on one side of the helicopter as Tom was winched out.
Seconds later, he was dangling below the skids. Looking down over the lightweight stretcher attached to his harness, Tom could see the faces of the people below as they watched the rescue unfolding.
One of the climbers was a young woman. Tom could see strands of dark hair whipping around the white helmet she wore in the blast of air from the helicopter rotors.
And, for a split second, Tom thought of Emma again.
The way her long, dark hair swung and rippled over her shoulders when she moved. The almost uncontrollable urge that had been building for days—of wanting to bury his fingers in those tresses. To use that soft, dark cloud as an anchor to draw Emma's face close to his. Close enough to touch her lips with his own.
The flash was gone as quickly as it had appeared. There were no thoughts of Emma as Tom's feet touched the rough rock of the plateau and he unhooked himself from the winch line.
A Father Beyond Compare Page 5
