She swept her gaze to the child and blinked. He was still—his body like a rag doll in Richard’s embrace. The torpor was almost more frightening than the seizures. Was he breathing? She squinted through the glare, but she couldn’t tell. With almost unbelievable precision, the firefighter maneuvered the cherry picker inches below the gondola. As the boom fully extended, the basket just skimmed the bottom of the car.

Arms trembling, Richard hoisted the boy over the safety bar.

For a brief moment, the lifeless body seemed to dangle above a gaping void. Tessa twisted her T-shirt around one finger and clutched it to her belly.

Grimacing, the firefighter strained upward, caught the boy in a solid embrace, and lowered him into the cherry picker.

Richard dragged an arm across his forehead and sagged onto the bench.

Tessa sagged, too, her limbs as spent as if she just scaled the Ferris wheel herself.

With a whining whir, the ladder descended.

The crowd whooped again.

She lifted her gaze to the horizon and prayed for that boy and his mother. She prayed he would be all right—prayed the rescue wasn’t too late. Just above the ridge, Venus shone so constant and reassuring she almost dared to take it as a sign. The bullhorn’s squeal cut through her whispered pleas, and she dropped her gaze.

“The boy is stable and on his way to the hospital,” announced a uniformed officer. “The mechanic just arrived. You should be on the ground shortly. Just hold on, and please, remain in your seats.”

Lights flashing, the ambulance silently slipped between long rows of cars and veered onto the park lane.

The gondola beneath her was empty. Richard and the boy’s mother must have descended after him. She shuddered and scanned the crowd. The sky was dark now, but hundreds of people remained. Did Richard go to the hospital with the child and leave her alone, stranded on the Ferris wheel?

Another voice cut through on the bullhorn. “Tessa? Tessa, honey?”

The voice was gravelly and hoarse, but it was unmistakably Richard’s. She searched the crowd until she spotted him with a firefighter. Tears sprang again to her eyes.

“I’ll be right here when you come down.” He handed the bullhorn to the police officer and clapped one hand to his chest, right over his heart.

Finally, the Ferris wheel groaned, and after a few tense minutes, she staggered out of the car and into Richard’s arms. He held her so tightly she could hardly breathe, kissing her face again and again and murmuring her name until she almost didn’t recognize it. He drove her home, and then he went straight to St. Luke’s to check on the boy. His patient came first. His patients, she was learning, always came first.