Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

I'm So Glad You're Here-Part One, July 1921

Clara crept into the bedroom where Tommy slept, not wanting to wake him. He was so tiny, she thought as she watched him from across the room, so absolutely little and defenseless in the huge bed topped with carved lion heads. Surrounding the bed like creatures from a nightmare were the stuffed corpses of big game animals his grandfather had slaughtered. It wasn't a fit nursery for any child. Tommy needed to be home, in his own little bed, with his own, less terrifying things around him.

"Clara?" a small voice called from the depths of the blankets.

"Hey, kiddo," she whispered and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Where's my mommy?" Tommy asked fretfully.

Her heart skipped a beat. "Daddy is downstairs, Richard is coming soon, and I'm here now," Clara said.

Tommy looked up at her with sad eyes. "Mema said Mommy moved to Paris because she wanted to be with her friends. Mema says now she's my mommy."

Clara couldn't hide her sharp intake of breath. A cold chill ran down her spine at the idea of Gillian declaring herself Tommy's mother. She was grateful that the room was only lit by moonlight so that Tommy couldn't see her face. Damn Gillian to hell and back, she thought fiercely, how dare she tell this baby his mother had left him of her own accord.

"Tommy, your mommy would never leave you of her own choice, never ever," Clara answered while she rubbed his hands. "She loves you so much. And she'll always be your mommy, okay? She'll always be the only mommy you'll ever have. Mema is Mema, she's not your mother."

"But where is Mommy, Clara?" Tommy pressed.

Clara grasped for an answer. Jimmy needed to be the one to tell his boy Angela was dead, and she couldn't think of what to tell Tommy that wasn't a lie but that would comfort him so he could go back to sleep.

Screams shattered the quiet stillness of the night. Deep, guttural ones, but also a high pitched one. Tommy grabbed Clara's arm. Clara patted his hand as she tried to decipher the noises.

"It's going to be okay," she said in the most reassuring voice she could muster. "Tommy, do you know how to lock a door?"

Tommy looked scared. "Mema says don't lock doors in her house."

It's not, Clara thought angrily, her fucking house. Clara swallowed around the lump of fear and anger in her throat and calmed her voice before responding. "Well, Daddy said I'm in charge of you, and I say it's all right. Lock the door. Only open it for Daddy, Richard, or me, okay?"

Richard was making one last run to the warehouse to deal with the booze orders from Northern New Jersey, but she wished desperately he was at the haunted house from hell with her. From the second floor landing, she watched carefully before revealing herself. Jimmy was sprawled on the floor. Another dark shape lay slumped on the floor behind Jimmy. The Commodore. Gillian stood over both of them. The horror of the scene-the blood, the bodies-made her go silent and still. Clara shook off the feeling and ran down the stairs.

"What happened?"

Gillian looked up, and Clara saw pure, unadulterated triumph in Gillian's eyes for just a moment before Gillian softened her face. "Oh, Clara, I'm so glad you're here! The Commodore stabbed James. James killed his father."

Clara was already sliding to her knees next to Jimmy. You've never been happy for me to be anywhere around Jimmy, Clara thought bitterly as she examined Jimmy's wound. Blood was seeping out of a deep wound on the upper left of his back, but his pulse was steady under her fingertips when she touched his neck. It was a big, deep wound. She looked over at the Commodore and saw his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. There was no doubt he was dead.