A Father Beyond Compare

‘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.

But was that still above water?

Emma had lost all sense of direction. All sense of time. Her body was ahead of her brain in shutting out the horror and her limbs felt heavy and lifeless. Powerless to assist Tom in any way, Emma just floated, aware of nothing but the strength of the arms holding her so tightly and the determination she could feel emanating from the owner of those arms.

If they could survive by sheer willpower, Tom was providing more than enough for both of them.

Emma was dimly aware of being outside the van because an icy wind sent an unbelievable chill right into the marrow of her bones and the noise from the helicopter hovering close overhead was deafening.

Tom was shouting but the instructions didn’t seem to be for her, which was just as well because Emma’s lips were too numb to move. Her eyelids drooped and she knew that the effort of trying to open them again would be too great. And maybe that was just as well because the image being cut off was that of the vehicle she’d just been trapped inside.

Somehow they were above it now but still very, very close. Close enough to be bumped and swayed as the van tilted sharply and then swung out into the whirls of the river’s main current, with only its tyres visible.

Even the noise and shouting faded then but Emma clung to the sensation that was the only thing of importance.

The security of the arms still around her.

Holding her.

Keeping her alive.