Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

The Monster Inside Part One-June/July 1921

Author's Note: This chapter covers events from "Two Boats and a Lifeguard" and "Battle of the Century", but the timeline is slightly different. The dream that starts the chapter is the season two trailer-you'll see where Clara belongs. Enjoy!

Nucky was lost in a familiar dream. It's always the same. He walks out of the Ritz, and people surround him, calling his name, wanting a piece of him. James, that fucking traitor, and Angela sit sipping lemonade. Lucy walks with that Prohie. The aldermen, Mickey, his New York associates all look at him ominously. Who can he trust. Who can he trust. Gillian and the Commodore ride past in a pushcart powered by Eddie. Eli pins a red carnation to his sheriff's uniform, just like his big brother's, Nucky thinks.

The crowd grows ever tighter around him. Chalky White strolls by on the ocean side of the Boardwalk, and then Harrow walks up the beach stairs with a rifle slung over his shoulder. He recoils from the sight of the man and almost overlooks Clara. She's wearing a blue dress, standing to the right of the stairs with her back to the ocean, looking up at the Ritz like she just realized something about the place she's called home since she was eight years old. As the crowd swirls, he loses track of her, his attention taken by Margaret, by Torrio's little troll, by James. He tries to find Clara in the mass of people moving around him. He expects to find her with James, but instead, he sees her standing with Harrow before he loses her again in the crowd's push, and then he's alone looking out at the ocean in the spot she was standing earlier.

Nucky startled awake. The smell of bleach was overwhelming, and his hand felt like it was on fire, like the night his father struck him with the fire poker for eating first. As he emerged from the haze, he saw a woman in a blue skirt and white shirtwaist staring out the window. The fair curls made him think for a moment that his mother was in the room with him. No, of course not, he thought.

"Clara," he said weakly, and she finally turned from the window.

"Father," she said after she sat in the chair next to him. "The doctor just left. He said it's a clean wound, you shouldn't have long term damage. In fact, you are set to go home tomorrow."

"Thank you for coming," he said as he looked at her closely. There was something in her voice he hadn't heard before, he thought, trying to remember the last time he'd seen her. He'd heard the typewriter at odd hours more than he'd actually seen his daughter since their fight on Memorial Day.

"I need to know," she said, her eyes huge and serious. "Tell me who did this."

"James. We were at the Jack Dempsey event, and James walked up to me and said, 'it doesn't make a difference if you're right or wrong. You just have to make a decision.' As soon as he walked away, the gunman ran up."

Clara choked out a cold, bitter laugh. "I see Jimmy's backbone is as strong as ever." She stared into the middle distance. "If it's all right, I'll move into Margaret's. I need to cut ties with the past, and I can't do that at the Ritz. It will just be until I can make concrete plans."

"What sort of plans?"

"Europe. I'll write the Grenvilles and ask to visit for a bit, start my European sojourn in the Yorkshire countryside," Clara braced herself for an argument, but she was beyond caring about her father's objections to what she wished to do with her life. While she waited for him to wake up, while she measured the depth of Richard's betrayal, she'd started to make plans. How could she stay in Atlantic City without Richard, without Jimmy? This was even going to cost her Angela and Tommy, she thought. Luckily, she had more than enough money saved to get to Europe, and it wasn't like she was going to need that money now for houses and hardware stores. From everything she read, the cost of living on the Continent was so low, she'd be fine with the money she made from writing.