A Father Beyond Compare. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
This rescue had just become that much more complicated
He could look into the space that held the driver’s seat. A seat that was underwater. The driver’s back was hunched into the corner of the windshield, but her upper body was well above the water. Clutched in her arms was a very small boy who almost disappeared into the protective circle of those slim, bare arms.
Two sets of huge, dark and terrified eyes stared up at Tom.
Tom smiled. “Good to see you guys,” he said calmly. “About time we got this spot of bother sorted out for you, isn’t it?”
The terror in the larger set of dark eyes changed to something approaching incredulity and then, amazingly, the woman’s lips curved into a wide smile. “Oh, yes…please!”
That smile touched something deep in Tom’s heart.
“Fish out of water” scenarios are brilliant for either revealing or developing a character. They can show others what they’re made of or discover strengths they didn’t know they possessed. I used one of these in A Father Beyond Compare to give my child-phobic hero, Tom, a chance to learn something about himself when he offers to care for a small boy. This small boy, Mickey, is the son of my heroine, Emma, and I gave both of them a “fish out of water” scene to start with, as well. Or maybe that should be a “fish in water,” seeing as I hurled their camper van into a rain-swollen river and then trapped it on debris in the middle of the torrent.
Please let me know if you’ve enjoyed the kind of drama that my SERT series has provided because I’d love an excuse to revisit this team of emergency response personnel and follow them into the kind of tension that can easily filter into their more private lives.
Happy reading,
Alison
A Father Beyond Compare
Alison Roberts
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
IMMINENT disaster could be seen in the rear-view mirror but there was absolutely nothing Emma White could have done to prevent the accident.
Not when it came from behind like that. When she hadn’t even seen the small truck following her camper-van down the long hill towards the bridge.
A one-way bridge.
The signs further up the hill had been perfectly clear. Arrows indicated that the traffic coming from the opposite direction had the right of way on the narrow old wooden bridge that spanned a canyon through which a large river coursed.
Emma had approached with due caution.
She was, after all, in an unfamiliar country, driving a heavy vehicle that required a far greater stopping distance than the compact hatchback she was used to driving. That distance was further compromised today because the roads were still slick after recent rain.
Her caution had been justified. There was a car coming towards them, well over halfway across the bridge and travelling swiftly. Emma was waiting her turn to move. Her hands were on the steering-wheel and, instinctively, when the sharp forward jolt occurred, she pulled down hard on the wheel to try and prevent a head-on collision as her car was shunted towards the oncoming vehicle.
Mickey was sitting in the front seat beside her.
Any mother would have taken the same protective action without thinking.
The jolt had been unexpectedly powerful, however. Forceful enough to jar Emma’s foot from its position on the brake. With the wheels now turned away from the road, they were suddenly on the brink of a worse disaster than a head-on collision.
The ground sloped away—too close to the verge of the road. The river snaked along the bottom of a very deep gully and the sides were steep. The bridge had been situated at its narrowest point, which meant there was no margin between the swiftly flowing, rain-swollen river and its banks.
Nowhere for the van to come to rest in relative safety, having careered and then rolled on its enforced detour from the road. The bone-crunching shock of hitting hard ground suddenly changed as the van slipped into the water. But the soft rocking was far from comforting. The van was still moving.
Picking up speed as the current teased and then clutched at a new toy. Filling