Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Woman's Work Part I-July 1921

A/N: I wish I could say this was a happy chapter? Emily grows sicker while Clara must cope on her own. More notes at the end

The sound of sobbing woke Margaret up with a start. Emily, she thought, as she ran to her children's room, not bothering to pick up her robe. She opened the door, but Emily was sleeping like a princess, still tucked in under the covers. Teddy's covers were half on the floor, and he was on his stomach, but he was also well and sound asleep. She stepped back into the hallway and realized the sound was coming from downstairs. Katy, she thought with a sigh, doubtlessly being dramatic about Owen being away. She went back and put on her robe and slippers before submitting to her duty and going downstairs. Sometimes, she thought, it was doubtful if live-in servants were worth the trouble.

She followed the sound into the conservatory, but instead of seeing Katy's dark hair and working girl robe, she saw a blonde in a green party dress curled against the back wall with her face in her hands.

"Clara," Margaret called, unsure if she should go to her or not. Since they'd traveled together to New York to obtain family limitation devices, Clara had been friendlier when they met. However, she still had never confided in Margaret, carefully protecting her inner life behind a wall of polite manners. Clara was more her father's daughter than she'd like to admit, Margaret thought.

Even now, when Margaret knew Clara's heart must be broken by the turmoil of the people she loved-The Tin Man, Jimmy Darmody, even her uncle-attempting to have her father killed, Clara's reserve remained intact, although the life seemed to have gone out of her. Clara drifted around the house politely, spending time with Emily who was still battling a fever, making small talk at the table. Even when her grandfather died, Clara had treated attending the funeral as no more than another outing she endured as Enoch Thompson's daughter.

But now, after not seeing the girl since she left for her grandfather's funeral that morning, she lay in a heap in an expensive dress. Clara had only been Teddy's age when her mother died, Margaret recalled. The only maternal figures she'd had since were Gillian Darmody and Nucky's companions. Margaret shuddered at the idea of any girl being mothered by the likes of Lucy and remembered how badly she'd ached for her mother during her first heartbreak.

"There, there. Whatever is the matter?" Margaret slid onto the floor next to her and patted her back, in the same manner she used when Teddy or Emily cried.

Some small part of Clara was mortified that Margaret was seeing her lose control like this, but the weight on her chest was so heavy and the storm of emotions-guilt, anger, remorse, grief- inside of her raged beyond her ability to control it.

"Tell me," Margaret said.

Clara rubbed her eyes and tried to take a deep enough breath to stop the sobs. How could she explain it? How could she explain that Jimmy was her oldest love, that she couldn't remember life without him, that his betrayal felt like a knife through her heart?

How could she explain she lay in bed at night and missed the press of Richard's body against hers, the way that when he would wake up he inevitably would pull her closer, or the feel of his stubble against her forehead? How could she explain she missed the way he always remembered exactly how she liked her coffee, or the way he listened to her talk without making her feel foolish, or the way he could be around her while she wrote, even though she couldn't bear for anyone else to be near her while she worked?

How could she explain that he felt like home, and nothing had felt like home since her mother died?

How could she put into words the feeling when she thought he had twisted her desire for him into something for Jimmy's stupid fucking coup, a way to make her almost complicit in the plot against her father? How could she explain the relief and new flash of anger when she found out Jimmy had lied to Richard?