A Father Beyond Compare. Alison Roberts
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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!’
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