Their First Family Christmas

She was back in time again. Sitting beside the bed of someone she loved so dearly and they had both known that they had very little time.

‘Promise me, Em. Promise me that you’ll take care of her.’

Sarah’s breathing had been becoming rapidly more laboured and there had been nothing they could do.

‘Jack would be a disaster. He’s irresponsible... He’s never even wanted a family...’

‘I promise...’

How hard had it been to hold back her tears?

‘Cross your heart and hope to die?’

The old childhood vow. The one that could never be broken.

Not that Emma had been able to repeat the words. She had only been able to nod. And smile. And squeeze Sarah’s hand so hard it would have hurt if she hadn’t already been beyond feeling pain...

It took a huge effort to shake off the distressing flashback. To focus on the images in front of her. Amazingly, Jack hadn’t broken any bones, probably thanks to the well-padded leather gear with its built-in body armour. All that was needed was treatment of the soft-tissue injuries and observation for long enough to be sure that there was no head injury being missed.

Taking a deep breath, Emma went back to Jack’s room. The radiographers had gone and the nurse who had stayed with Jack was peering wide-eyed around the door as stretchers surrounded by police officers as well as paramedics came through the ambulance bay doors. That the patients on the stretchers were in red and white Santa suits only made the spectacle even more riveting. Alistair and the small team he had gathered were waiting in front of the other resuscitation area.

‘You go,’ Emma told the nurse. ‘They’ll need extra hands. And call me if I’m needed.’

‘What’s going on out there?’ Jack had a pillow under his head now but he was trying to prop himself further up on the elbow of his uninjured arm. ‘Sounds like something major.’

Emma stepped closer. The fear—and the anger—had resurfaced on seeing Jack’s face. It made no difference how much she loved this man. She would fight to the death if she had to, to protect what was most important.

‘I won’t let you do it,’ she said quietly. ‘Not this time.’

Jack looked bewildered. ‘Do what?’

Emma swallowed hard. ‘I won’t let you take Lily away from me.’

CHAPTER THREE (#u3aefdf64-8b7f-547a-bd0b-d5b84e29da68)

YOU’D HAVE TO know Emma well to see the fear beneath the fury of the words she had just bitten out.

Jack knew Emma very well.

He could see the fear and he hated himself for having been the person who’d caused it. He had to put this right. Fast.

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you really think that’s why I’ve come back?’

The shake of her head was sharp enough for another curl to escape its clip. Emma took a step closer to the bed. Because the wide door of this area was ajar, the noises of the department were still there, but they were no more than a background buzz. It wouldn’t matter how quietly Emma spoke, he would still be able to hear every word because that was all that mattered in this moment.

‘How would I know?’

Jack could hear the edge of tears roughening her words and could see the way she was fighting for control by the ragged breath she sucked in. He could also see that she had something else to say, so he remained silent.

He watched the way Emma composed herself. A long, hard blink and a swallow that looked painful by the jerky movement of the muscles in her neck. When she opened her eyes again, she was staring down at her hands—as if it was too hard to meet his gaze.

‘I’ve been waiting, Jack,’ she said softly. ‘For nearly a year, I’ve been waiting for you to come back. I’ve shut my ears to everything people have said and held on to the belief that one day, it would happen.’ Her head shake was slower this time and she must have felt the tickle of the errant curl because her hand went up to smooth it away from her face. ‘I’ve been hoping—every day—that this might be the day I’d hear something...’

Making Emma scared had made Jack feel like a bastard but this was worse. Much worse.

She’d been thinking of him every day? Hoping he would do the right thing and come back?

What had other people been saying? That he was gone for good and maybe that was for the best?

Maybe it would have been better if he hadn’t come back...

‘And today, of all days...’ Emma’s voice was little more than a whisper. ‘When the memories were ambushing me around every corner. You come back with no warning and...and you come back looking like you might be nearly dead?’

Her bottom lip wobbled and it was too much.

She cared about him, didn’t she?

Really cared...

Apart from the memory of his mother that had no more than a dreamlike quality now, there had only ever been one other person that had felt like that about him and, in a way, Ben’s death had given him freedom. There was nobody to worry about him. If he kept it that way, it would work both ways and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else. Or face the agony of having them torn from his life.

But, for some unfathomable reason, Emma cared...

And, like it or not, he cared about her, didn’t he? He wouldn’t be feeling this wretched if he didn’t.

Jack stretched out his hand but he couldn’t quite reach hers. He left it there, hanging, in midair. For a moment, he was aware of an increased urgency in the sounds coming from outside the door—from the resuscitation area right next door to this one—but then he shut it out again. This was more important.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m really sorry, Red.’

There was a long, long moment of utter stillness then. He knew Emma was looking at his hand—trying to decide whether she wanted to touch him in a capacity that had nothing to do with his medical care?

He wanted that touch. It might be the only thing that could give him any hope that he could put any of this right. He leaned into his arm, stretching it a little bit further, and he turned his hand over, to offer his palm.

‘Careful...you’ll pull out your IV line.’

But Emma had caught his hand and, after she’d stepped closer to take the tension off the narrow plastic tube, she didn’t let it go. Jack curled his fingers around hers, willing her to look up and meet his gaze.

When she did, he almost wished she hadn’t. He was enveloped in something that felt like anguish.

‘Why did you come back today, Jack?’

‘Because...because it’s Christmas,’ he said, his voice catching on the last word.

‘But you hate Christmas...we all knew how much you hate it... That was why Sarah and Ben were bringing Lily to Glasgow. They knew you’d never go to see them in London.’ Emma’s words were tumbling out. And her eyes were widening, as if she was realising something horrific for the first time.