and nurses checked Ashley’s vitals again, Tara scrolled through her emails, her inner dread growing with each message that appeared from the board of directors. She’d emailed them to let them know what had happened, but since it was already rather late, she’d hoped that they wouldn’t see the message right away and that she wouldn’t have to deal with their replies until morning.
No such luck, apparently.
First was a message from Harrison, stating that the board was spooked by the event from earlier that night. No shit. Tara felt more than a little spooked herself. She swallowed hard, her throat still tender from the smoke, then clicked on a second email with her shaking finger. The rush of adrenaline that had flooded her system as they’d escaped the house had long since receded, leaving her feeling jittery and jumpy and oddly empty.
She didn’t mind putting herself in the line of fire for what she believed in, but it was another matter entirely to endanger those she cared about. Clint might have signed on for the danger when he’d agreed to be her bodyguard, but not Ashley.
Warily, she opened the second email, this one from Jacob Bartlet, and her heart sank even more. He was calling on the board to halt their public campaigning for the bill, saying that it could be putting all of them in danger, and damn if Harrison didn’t second the motion.
Well, crap.
Talk about an overreaction. There was no need to kill the legislation. She typed in a quick response, telling Harrison and the rest of the board that, then hit Send. She didn’t have to wait long for a response. Her phone dinged just as the doctor was finishing up with Ashley.
“This is about more than your safety now,” Harrison wrote. “Someone tipped off the media, and what happened at your house tonight is all over the news. It’s become a publicity issue, Ms. Crumb.”
“But what if we can turn it to our advantage?” she fired back. “What if we can use this to fire up our base—show them how vital and important this issue really is?”
“No.” Harrison’s emailed response was short and sweet. “The board has reconsidered.”
Clint came in, rushing to his daughter’s side. “How’re you doing, sweetpea? The doctor says you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m thirsty, Daddy,” Ashley said, her little voice croaky as a bullfrog. “Can I have some water?”
“Sure thing.” He poured her a glass from the small pitcher on the bedside table and helped her sit up to drink it. Tara watched the scene, unable to stop thinking about the first night they’d spent at her house. Ashley had wanted water then too, but the times had been much happier.
No. Happier wasn’t quite the right word. Maybe less stressful.
Yeah. Definitely that.
Once his daughter was settled again, Clint came over to where Tara was sitting in the corner of the room and leaned his hips back against the wall. He looked as worn and exhausted as she felt. At least they were all okay. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked down at her. “I just talked to the guys at SSoF. The board of your non-profit called them. They want to bring them in to give an unbiased assessment of whether or not it’s safe for you to continue lobbying for the climate change bill.”
“But that’s ridiculous!” Tara sighed and threw her hands up in exasperation. “Nothing’s changed!”
Except everything had changed, hadn’t it? She stared across the room to where poor little Ashley looked far too small in that adult-size hospital bed. Her shoulders sagged and she hung her head. If only the kid wasn’t involved. But no. She stopped her thoughts short. No. God, why would she even think something like that? She knew what it was like to be Ashley. Hell, she was Ashley. When she was that age, she’d been the one in everyone’s way with everyone thinking she was nothing but a nuisance. Or at least, that was how she’d been made to feel. She refused to be like her mother. She refused to think of Ashley as a burden, regardless of what it cost her.
“They think you’re too close to the situation to see things clearly.” Clint placed his hand on Tara’s shoulder and gave a small squeeze that was probably meant to be reassuring, but right now all she felt was frustrated. And angry. Mainly at herself.
“Maybe I am.” She shrugged. “But if we can just catch whoever’s behind this, then that will