A Father Beyond Compare

by Alison Roberts

  'I took him by surprise. He was shocked.'

  'Or maybe he was unguarded. Maybe that was the real Simon you were seeing.'

  'I think I know him a bit better than you do, Tom.'

  'You certainly do.'

  Emma made an incredulous sound. 'I can't believe you're so angry about this. If you think I want it for my sake rather than Mickey's then you couldn't be more wrong. There's nothing for you to be jealous about.'

  Tom had to slow and then stop for traffic lights. He turned his head sideways.

  'Mickey thought I was his father,' he blurted. 'And you know what? It gave me a bit of a jolt at the time but when I'd got used to the idea I found I liked it. I could be a father to him. A good father.'

  Emma opened her mouth to respond but Tom didn't give her the chance. 'He doesn't need another father figure in his life. It would confuse him.'

  'But he knows that Simon exists. What his name is. One day he's going to want to know more.'

  'So leave it until then.'

  'I can't. Simon wants it now. He implied that he could probably demand it legally, and he could be right for all I know.' Emma sighed deeply when Tom said nothing and the silence continued until he turned into the road where the day-care centre was situated.

  'Simon's got other children, Tom. They're half-brothers and -sisters for Mickey. Maybe they'll be the closest thing to siblings he'll ever have, seeing as you aren't interested in having your own children.'

  Tom applied the handbrake with far more force than necessary. They both jerked forward in their seat belts.

  'Where the hell did that come from?' Tom couldn't believe this. Instead of them happily planning a future together in the wake of the marriage proposal he had hoped to make, Emma seemed to be doing her utmost to prove it could never work.

  Maybe it was just as well he hadn't proposed.

  'Oh, I don't know.' Emma's voice was tight. 'Perhaps it was when we were in the van and I asked whether you had kids and you sounded so relieved when you said you'd managed to avoid them so far.' She gave a soft snort. 'Or maybe it has something to do with the way you and Phoebe look so exasperated when your mother says anything about wanting grandchildren.'

  'But that's different!' Emma was quite right, he had said that. And he hadn't liked the pressure from his mother to settle down and have a family, but this was different. Tom wasn't quite sure why, he just knew it was. Probably because those hypothetical children or grandchildren had not had the prospect of having Emma as their mother. 'That was in the past,' he told Emma. 'That was the way it was before I met you.'

  'You're saying you want children?'

  'No.' Or was he? 'Yes.' Tom felt too hurt right now to know how he felt about the idea of having children. He cleared his throat. 'I don't know. And I don't understand why I have to decide right now. How did we get onto a subject like this anyway?'

  'How would you feel if I had your child and went away and you never got to meet it?'

  The thought of Emma pregnant with his baby and disappearing from his life was shocking. The thought of her leaving at all was shocking. But this wasn't about them. It was about letting Simon force his way into their lives. Making a claim on the most important part of Emma's life. Trying to win her back. Could Tom live with the kind of tension that would create?

  Not happily, that was for sure.

  'I hope you're not comparing me to Simon,' he snapped.

  'I'm trying to explain why I have to go through with letting him meet Mickey even if neither of us are particularly happy about it. It's what I planned to do even before I booked the tickets to come to New Zealand. It's because of how guilty I've felt for years now about keeping my son a secret and why I can't continue to avoid the truth even if Simon was prepared to let me get away with it. Which I don't expect he is,' she added hurriedly. 'He just wants to meet his son, Tom. His son.'

  A heavy silence fell. Tom stared sightlessly through the windscreen.

  Was Emma trying to tell him that he would never be considered a father to Mickey? That he would just have to suck it in and put up with Emma and Simon spending time together as they shared bringing up their child? If Simon succeeded in convincing Emma that was what he wanted, just how long would it take for him to persuade her that they should all be together as one happy little family?

  'If you want to meet Simon, I can't stop you,' he finally said heavily. 'But I'm not sure things can work between us if he's included in the equation.'

  Emma gasped. 'Are you saying that if I go ahead with this, it's over between us?' She gave him no time to answer. 'I don't like ultimatums, Tom.'

  'It's not an ultimatum. I just want you to know that I'm not happy about you seeing Simon.'

  'No kidding?' There was a hint of sarcasm in Emma's tone that Tom had never heard before. He didn't like it. Neither did he like the belligerence that seemed to colour her next words. 'Why not? Don't you trust me?'

  'I didn't say that.'

  'Maybe you didn't need to. It's obvious. And if it isn't that you don't trust me, it's that you can't deal with my baggage. Either way, you might be right. I think we have a problem, Tom. A big problem.'

  And with that, Emma pushed her door open and marched into the day-care centre to collect her son.

  Max was looking worried. He lay on the kitchen floor, facing the back door, and whined softly.

  'They've just gone to feed Phoebe's cat and water the plants,' Tom told his dog. 'They'll be back soon.'

  Except they should have been back by now. When the phone rang, Tom guessed what had happened. The heavy atmosphere and the unresolved conflict had driven Emma away to find some space. How convenient that Phoebe's fully furnished flat was available. Had she thought of that before she'd set out to begin the responsibilities she had taken on or had the peace of a house that he wasn't in inspired the idea?

  'Mickey and I are going to stay the night here,' Emma told him. 'Phoebe's cat hasn't come in for its dinner and it's getting a bit late. Mickey got tired so I put him to bed.'

  'That's fine. See you tomorrow, then.'

  'Um.. .maybe.' He could hear Emma's heavy sigh over the line. 'It might be a good idea if we have a day or two apart, Tom. A bit of thinking time.'

  'A bit of talking time might be more useful.'

  'We'll talk,' Emma promised, 'but I need to get my own head clear first. I've got to try and resolve past issues before I look too far ahead, Tom. Can you understand that?'

  'Of course.'

  'That has to include sorting out what, if any, place Simon has in Mickey's life.'

  'So you're going to meet him?'

  'I'll have to.'

  'When?'

  'I don't know. As soon as possible, I guess.'

  How had things gone so wrong so quickly?

  It was with a heavy heart that Emma collected some clean clothes from Tom's house the next day.

  'But why do we have to stay at Phoebe's house again, Mummy?' Mickey had his arms around Max's neck and was looking mutinous.

  'Because Fatso might run away from home if there's no one there and I promised Phoebe that we'd take care of him.'

  'But I don't like Fatso. I like Max.'

  'I know, darling, but it's not for long.'

  'I could stay here. With Max. And Tom.'

  'Tom has to go to work. He can't look after you all the time.'

  'He looked after me all the time when you were sick.'

  True. Where had that Tom gone? The one who had put himself out to such a degree to help her? Who'd taken on caring for a small, frightened, disabled boy when he hadn't known anything about children and hadn't been, according to his own confession, all that keen on having them around?

  But he'd grown to like the idea of being Mickey's father. The warm glow that latest confession should have given Emma was buried under the weight of the tension surrounding her decision to introduce Simon to Mickey.

  Emma was sure she was doing the right thing. It had to be done—for all sorts of reasons, n
ot the least of which was her conviction that if what she and Tom had was going to last the distance, it would have to be able to cope with this kind of pressure. And she had to be allowed to do what was right for her. And for Mickey. She'd been as strong as she'd needed to be in the past for precisely that reason and it wasn't for Tom to decide what was important now.

  He may well feel differently about it when it was a reality and not some kind of nebulous threat. When Emma could prove to him that she had no interest in Simon other than as Mickey's birth father.

  So the sooner she got the initial meeting out of the way, the better. Then she could try and mend the rift that had escalated between herself and Tom. Thank goodness Simon seemed keen to co-operate. He'd even offered to take some time off work that very afternoon so that he could meet Emma and Mickey at a place of their choosing.

  'There's a playground Mickey really likes,' Emma had suggested. 'Out near the airport in Black's Road. Would three o'clock be all right?'

  There were other children at the popular playground that had become a favourite due to its easy walking distance from Tom's address. Emma pushed Mickey's wheelchair over to where a group was clambering over a mini-obstacle course.

  'Want to get out of your chair to play?'

  'No. I just want to watch.'

  Emma wasn't surprised. There were no familiar faces among the children present that day and one of the boys was older and much bigger than Mickey. He had curly red hair and a lot of freckles and he exuded a confidence that Mickey certainly didn't possess.

  'Why are you in that chair?' The red-headed boy lost no time in coming to investigate. 'Is there something wrong with your legs?'

  'I can walk,' Mickey stated firmly. 'Just not for a long way yet.'

  'Want me to push you?'

  Mickey eyed the boy cautiously and Emma could see that shyness could get in the way of a new friendship.

  'This is Mickey,' she told the boy. 'What's your name?'

  'James.'

  'You'll be careful if you push Mickey, won't you? The chair might tip over if you go too fast.'

  James's mother was sitting on a nearby bench. 'He'll be careful,' she assured Emma. 'Won't you, Jamie?'

  James nodded eagerly and Emma stepped back. It would be good for Mickey to make a new friend and, besides, she could see a man in a pinstriped suit approaching and she knew who it was. She moved to greet Simon.

  'Emma! Good to see you again. Shall we find somewhere to sit down and talk?'

  'Sure.' There was an unoccupied bench on the other side of the play area and Emma led the way. 'How did things go with Paige yesterday?' she queried.

  'Fabulously well, if I'm allowed to be less than modest.' Simon -tweaked up the legs of his trousers as he sat down. 'The tumour was benign, thank God, and I think we rescued the nerves before they suffered any permanent damage. Only time will tell, of course, but I'm confident she'll make a full recovery.'

  'That's good news.'

  Simon's nod was satisfied. He smiled. 'It's good to see you out of uniform, Emma. Did I tell you how great you're looking?'

  He'd come here to see Mickey, not her. So why wasn't Simon even looking at any of the children? If it was Emma, she would be dead curious to see what a child of hers looked like.

  As Simon's gaze returned to her face and Emma caught the glint in his eyes, she knew that Tom had been right. Simon was using Mickey to get to her. He still fancied her and she'd played right into his hands. She could see why Simon would wonder why she had agreed to meet him like this if she wasn't interested at some level.

  'That's Mickey over there,' Emma said levelly. 'See?' She pointed to where James was pushing Mickey towards an exotic-looking climbing frame that was a series of interlocking circles.

  'Really?' Simon frowned. 'He's big for his age, isn't he?'

  'No. Small, actually.'

  'Where did the red hair come from?'

  'That's not Mickey.'

  'Oh?' Simon turned his head and Emma stared at him. Was Mickey invisible because he was in a wheelchair? Or did it not occur to Simon that his child might have a disability because Emma hadn't thought to mention it?

  'That's Mickey in the wheelchair,' she said a little nervously. Why hadn't she thought to mention it? If she wanted to protect Mickey from rejection she should have made sure that Simon knew in advance. Perhaps it was because they used the wheelchair so infrequently these days. The long walk to the park was about the only time Mickey needed the assistance. Any moment now he'd probably be climbing out of it to start playing with the other children.

  Simon was obviously taken aback. 'He's in a wheelchair? What's wrong with him?'

  'Spina bifida.'

  'Oh? What level was the lesion?'

  'L4 to 5.'

  'What degree of disability has he got? Is he continent?'

  'Getting there. And he's walking well with callipers now. He can even walk without them for short distances.'

  Thanks to Max. And Phoebe.

  'Hydrocephalus?'

  'Minimal. He didn't need a shunt but he's been monitored carefully to make sure the fluid build-up didn't increase. As long as he doesn't get a head injury, it shouldn't be a problem.'

  'What age did they do the surgery?'

  'Twelve months.'

  'Do you know what method they used?'

  'Does it matter?' Emma had had enough of what seemed like a purely professional assessment of her son. This was his son that Simon was analysing in such a professional manner. 'He's a healthy, happy little boy, Simon. He loves to swim and build things and sing. And he loves dogs.'

  And he doesn't like strange men coming into my life, Emma was tempted to add. She could see Mickey watching her from near the climbing frame. He had climbed out of his wheelchair and was holding onto one of the lower circles on the frame. James was way above him but Mickey was too busy looking at his mother to see his new friend waving. Even from this distance she could tell that her son's expression was deeply suspicious. He was bound to tell Simon to his face that he didn't like him if she took him over for an introduction. And how would she introduce him? Did Mickey remember her telling him the name of his 'real' father?

  Emma needed a little time to decide how best to do this. Maybe it wouldn't even need to happen today. Simon might have a good idea about how and when he wanted to spend more time with Mickey.

  But Simon was looking at his watch. 'I haven't got too much time, I'm afraid, Emma. I'll have to run in a few minutes.'

  'Do you want to say hello to Mickey?'

  'Ah.. .do you think that's a good idea?' Simon actually looked nervous and Emma felt a twinge of sympathy.

  'We could leave it until next time, if you like.'

  'That might be best. And maybe I could take you out to dinner in the meantime. You can tell me all about Mickey so I feel like I get to know him.'

  'I don't want to have dinner with you, Simon. The best way to get to know Mickey is going to be to spend time with him, not me.'

  Simon looked alarmed now. 'I don't want to spend time with him without you, Emma. I see this as a package deal, don't you?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I'm planning to start a new life,' Simon said. 'I'm hoping that you and Mickey might be a big part of that. As I said, I've never forgotten you, Emma. I don't really think it was just a fling for either of us. I loved you. I think I still do.'

  Emma was shaking her head. She'd always known, deep down, that Simon had never really loved her. If he had, he would have been honest with her right from the start. And he would have come looking for her when she run away. 'I'm not in love with you any more, Simon and.. .and I'm in a relationship with someone else now.'

  At least, Emma hoped she still was. How stupid had it been to walk out instead of trying to talk it through? It really was a habit she needed to break.

  'Someone I love very much.'

  'That paramedic chap I saw you with yesterday?'

  'Tom. Yes.'

  'And you're s
ure about that?'

  'Yes.'

  So sure, in fact, that Emma couldn't remember why she thought it had been a good idea to have this meeting. No wonder Tom had been so upset. She hadn't even tried to see it from his point of view. And he'd been right. Simon wasn't interested in Mickey. Not enough, anyway. Her son would be far better off not knowing that.

  'I think you should go, Simon.'

  'What, you don't want me to even say hello to Mickey?'

  'Not unless you're planning on being involved with his life. It's going to be pretty confusing for him if he gets introduced to a father who isn't around to even read an occasional story to him.'

  'I'm happy to help, you know, financially.'

  'I've already told you, I don't want your money.'

  Simon didn't appear to be listening. He was staring over Emma's shoulder. 'Should he be doing that?'

  'What?' Emma turned swiftly and then gasped. 'Oh...my God!'

  Somehow Mickey had climbed to the top of the circular climbing frame. James was beside him and both boys were grinning at each other.

  Emma was on her feet. 'Mickey!' Her hoarse voice was almost inaudible.

  Of course he shouldn't be doing that. He didn't have anywhere near enough strength in his lower body to climb safely. Emma wouldn't have believed he was capable of getting so far off the ground. She had assumed he was happy going round the bottom or she would never have taken her eyes off him. How long had it taken him to get so high? Over two metres!

  He was looking so proud of himself. Emma tried not to ran and panic her son. If she could just get there in time to get him down safely, he could celebrate his new achievement all he liked. She could just imagine him telling Tom all about it tonight. Tom would be—

  'Look, Mummy! Look at me!'

  Emma was looking. She saw the exact moment her precious little boy slipped and fell, hitting his head on every bar of the metal frame on the way down.

  And then Emma started running, her scream trapped and resounding endlessly inside her head.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The strident beeping of a high-priority callout on Tom's pager was a welcome distraction.

  It didn't matter that it was a road-based job. The helicopter had been idle all day anyway, and at least he would be able to direct his thoughts away from himself for a while.