Lois's smile expanded. Her hand slid from his shoulder to his chest and stayed there. "You are an amazing man, Clark Kent," she said. "No one has ever touched me the way you do. You make me want to believe again."
"Are you still scared?"
She nodded. "But I'm more scared of running away than I am of staying."
"I am more scared of hurting you than you are," he said. "Please believe me."
"I do," she said with a smile and a touch to his face.
His thoughts turned to kissing her again, but she backed away, her attention moving to the remnants of their picnic.
He loved her. He'd loved her from the first, and he could feel that love permeating his heart, layer after layer, advancing and taking every part captive for the cause of loving Lois.
Of winning her love in return. And of nurturing and protecting that love every day of his life.
Part 7
Clark picked up the basket and thick rug. "I'll get this stuff into the car," he said. "You want to wait here where it's dry?"
Lois nodded, stepping sideways a few inches so she would have an uninterrupted view as he ran through the rain.
She shivered, and bent low to pick up the soft blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. As Clark reached the car, she diverted her gaze for a few seconds to retrieve the two half-full cups of coffee. He turned and ran towards her, sending a skitter of sensation through her heart. As he leapt up the steps, Lois's gaze became snagged on the fresh raindrops clinging to his sweater. When she dragged her eyes up, she discovered he was smiling at her.
"Want to brush them away?" he asked in a voice that came more thickly than his smile had foreshadowed.
Yes, she did. But if she touched him again, they might never fulfil their promise to talk to Shane. "You have a wedding to rescue," she reminded him.
With a good-natured grin, he reached over to take his coffee from her.
She jolted her hand away and smacked a kiss right on his unsuspecting mouth.
Playful. Short. Startlingly good.
His grin made her want to laugh out loud. "What was that for?" he asked
"Ah …" Why had she kissed him like that? Without any thought to the consequences or how he would perceive her actions? "Did you like it?"
"Oh, yes."
His reply was thick with appreciation. Not knowing what else to say, Lois mumbled, "I liked breakfast."
His eyebrow dipped, feigning disbelief. "It was cold, it rained -"
"And we were interrupted at a most inconvenient moment," Lois said, releasing a little spurt of laughter at the memory. "But for all that, I had the best time."
His eyes were trained on her mouth. "Belinda's timing was terrible," he murmured.
"Yeah," she breathed.
His hand slid across her cheek and dipped to curl around her neck, exerting gentle pressure. His eyes closed. His mouth settled slowly on hers.
His kiss was a tenderly issued invitation. To move forward. With him.
The shadows lurked, full of all the things she had come to fear most.
But Clark was kissing her. And she could feel his strength. His fearlessness. His vision for their future.
She wanted to go with him.
She could no longer deny the truth.
Sometime during breakfast under a rustic gazebo in a rain-sodden park in Des Moines, Iowa, she had released the safety rail and was already hurtling down the steep slope towards love.
She drew away, reeling at the truth.
"You OK?" he asked.
"Yeah. I …" She smiled. "I was just enjoying that a little too much."
"Oh." His cheeks deepened a little in colour. "I'm sorry. I -"
"I need you to answer one question."
"OK."
"Do you like living in Des Moines?"
"Yes," he said. "But if you asked me to move to Metropolis, I would do so without a moment's hesitation."
He meant it. His belief in their future was so unshakeable that he would willingly give up his job and leave his home and friends to be with her. Lois glanced out of the gazebo. "I don't think I could live in Des Moines."
"I'm not asking you to."
She swung back to him. "What if you hate Metropolis? What if you can't get a job with a paper? You'd be further away from your parents. How are they going to feel about that?"
"My parents want me to be happy," he said. "And I can't imagine hating anywhere -"
"It's big. It's fast. It's impersonal. It's unjust. It's crowded. It's lonely. It's -"
"We would not be lonely. And maybe, together, we can change some of the other things."
"Clark …" She stopped, torn. She wanted to believe. She wanted so desperately to believe that being with Clark would be different. That Clark would be different. That the future he believed in could be their reality.
His hand rose, and the back of his fingers skated across her cheek, coming to rest under the tip of her chin. "No one's going to force you to do anything, Lois," he said. "I promise." He took his coffee from her and picked up his coat. "Ready to brave the Iowan rain?"
She nodded. He smiled. And the shadows faded in the brilliance of his optimism.
Lois skipped down the steps and across the wet and shiny grass to the car. Clark overtook her in the last few strides, just in time to have her door open the moment she arrived. "Thanks," she said, pulling the blanket from her shoulders and throwing it into the back seat.
Clark slid into the driver's seat and shut out the drenched world. His sweater was stippled with drops again. Lois's fingers itched to brush them away, to slide over the contours hidden under the soft woollen material.
"I don't know how long this is going to take," Clark said. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the hotel first? I could come and get you as soon as I'm done."
"Is the hotel on the way?" she asked
"Not exactly."
She smiled inside, but tried to keep her face straight. "Meaning?"
A tiny grin poked through Clark's earnestness. "Meaning it's in the opposite direction."
"Then I'd like to stay with you," Lois said.
His hand slid down her arm to take her hand in his warm and gentle grip. "I'd like that, too," he said, deep in tone and extravagant with meaning.
One man. One very extraordinary man. A few short hours. An on-again-off-again date with a stuttered start. A curtailed picnic under leaking rain clouds.
And she had succumbed.
Not to Clark. But to her own heart.
A heart that beat with new vitality. Buoyant confidence. Fresh hope.
And joy that bubbled over, making everything beautiful.
Should she tell him? That she was on the verge of falling in love with him?
She couldn't.
It was too soon.
And they had promised to talk to Shane.
"We should go," Lois said. "Imagine if Belinda caught us kissing? Again?"
Clark sighed overdramatically, his eyes glistening with fun. He released her hand, slowly and sensually drawing his fingers over hers. After a final lingering look, he turned the key in the ignition.
"Have you thought about what you're going to say to Shane?" Lois asked as they drove out of the park.
"Not really," Clark said. "Other than asking him why he changed his mind."
"How well do you know him? Do you think he's likely to confide in you?"
"I wouldn't say we're close friends," Clark said. "We've covered a few stories together. He's a nice guy - always cheerful, not much rattles him. That's what makes his decision this morning so hard to understand."
"Did you notice anything? Before today? Has Shane ever said anything that made you think this might happen?"
"No," Clark said. "Not at all. I thought he'd wanted to marry Jane since the first week he arrived in Des Moines. She wanted to wait and give them time to be sure."
"I'm sorry this happened," Lois said, surprised to realise it was true. "Jane must be feeling awful."
Clark shot her a smile. "Thanks for not saying, 'I told you so'."
Before Lois had met Clark Kent, there was every chance she would have said exactly that, embellished with a sneer for good measure.
But today was a new day, and Lois could barely keep her eyes off Clark. Everything about him fascinated her. Thrilled her. Reassured her. Filled her.
And when he had kissed her …
"Lois?"
"Uhmm?"
"If the wedding goes ahead, would you like to go with me?"
Lois suppressed her automatic acceptance, hoping not to gush too obviously. "Yes," she said evenly. "I'd like to go to the wedding with you."
Clark beamed. "Great."
"And if there's no wedding," Lois said, "well, my flight doesn't leave until tomorrow morning."
"Would you like to do something with me? A meal? A movie, perhaps?"
"Yes. I would."
"I know a great restaurant," he said eagerly. "The food is amazing."
"I'd like that," she said, although however amazing the food, she doubted she would carry much memory of it back to Metropolis.
But her memories of this weekend … of Clark … meeting him, discovering, layer by layer, the sort of man he was … learning the nuances embedded in that smile … dancing with him … kissing him …
They would live with her forever.
"Jane must be feeling terrible," Lois said. "She looked so happy last night."
"I wonder what Shane said to convince her there was no hope," Clark said. "Jane usually isn't easily persuaded when it's something she really cares about."
"Do you still think it's for the best that they marry?" Lois asked.
Clark tapped on the steering wheel a few times before replying. "I want to say 'yes'," he said. "But I guess that if they've got doubts, they should wait."
It didn't sound like doubts to Lois. It sounded as if Shane was sure he no longer wanted to marry Jane and he wasn't interested in anyone changing his mind.
How could that have happened so quickly? How could the celebrations of last night turn to the heartache of today?
Her well-drilled cynicism wanted to provide a few choice replies, but Lois hushed it. Something had happened between Jane and Shane, and although she would never write the story, the reporter in Lois really wanted to know the answers.
It had to be something significant. Two people who loved each other didn't ditch their wedding over something minor.
Did they?
Maybe unrest had been brewing for weeks. Maybe Shane had been harbouring doubts. Maybe they'd had a huge argument last night. Maybe -
Clark pulled up outside a modest house with a plain and neat garden. "Coming in?" he asked.
"Would that be all right?"
"Of course," Clark said. "It's going to get pretty cold in the car without the engine running." He grasped the door handle. "Wait there. I'll get your door."
"You'll get wet."
"I don't mind getting wet. In fact, as of this morning, I quite enjoy it."
"Why?"
He looked at her as his smile grew into soft laughter. "Can't you work it out?"
Lois answered him with a smile that she hoped conveyed she knew exactly why he liked raindrops on his sweater.
"Wait here?" he said. "Please?"
"Why is it so important that you open my door for me?"
"Because I was raised to believe that if a man has the privilege of a woman's company, he should look out for her."
"I can open my own door," Lois said mildly.
"I know," he said. "But I like doing it for you."
"OK," she said, her grin breaking through her words. "You open the door for me; I'll brush the rain from your sweater."
"Deal."
After he'd come to her door and offered her his hand, they ran through the garden to the front porch. Clark didn't knock. He waited, a half-smile loitering on that very kissable mouth.
Lois giggled and raised her hand, using the tips of her fingers to brush away the lamentably few raindrops.
"Thanks," Clark said when she'd finished.
"You're welcome."
They shared a smile, and then Clark rapped on the door.
Half a minute later, one of Shane's brothers opened the door. "Hi," he said. "You must be Clark. I'm Andrew."
"Hi, Andrew," Clark said, shaking his hand. "This is Lois Lane."
"Pleased to meet you, Lois," Andrew said with a nod to her. "Come in. Belinda called to say you were coming."
"I'm not sure what we can do," Clark said as they walked down a small hallway and into a room where several men were clustered around the open fire.
"Shane won't say anything except -"
Shane - his face unshaven and his springy hair wild - stormed into the room, holding a half-empty beer bottle in his hand. "I can speak for myself, Andrew," he snarled.
"Well, speak then," Andrew said, unmoved by his brother's display of anger. He took the bottle from Shane's hand and placed it on the coffee table. "Sit down and talk. Tell us why a man who has been so excited for months about getting married suddenly doesn't want the wedding to happen."
Shane slumped into the nearest chair and sank his face into his hands.
"Shane?" Clark said, stepping closer to him. "Are you all right?"
Shane dragged his hands down his face, distorting his features. "No," he said. "I feel worse than I ever have before."
"Why?" Clark said.
"Because I know the truth."
"The truth?"
"The truth about Jane."
"You love Jane," Clark said. "Whatever 'truth' you found out, surely it isn't enough to stop you loving her."
Shane collapsed back against the chair. "She didn't trust me," he said woefully. "All this time … she didn't trust me."
"I'm sure she trusts you," Clark said.
"No," Shane corrected. "She didn't trust me. She wasn't even going to tell me. We were supposed to be getting married today and she wasn't going to tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"The truth."
"The truth about what?"
"The truth about who she is." Shane fired an angry look at Clark. "Do you know her name isn't even 'Jane'?" he demanded. "Her real name is Margaret." He flinched as he said the name, as if it caused him pain.
"It's not a crime to prefer a different name than the one your parents gave you," Clark said gently.
"She is Margaret Johnston," Shane said, his lip curling with disgust. "But she wasn't going to tell me."
"Does her name really matter?" Clark asked. "Doesn't it matter more that -"
Shane lurched from his seat. "Margaret Johnston," he said as he paced away. He spun around before reaching the window. "Margaret Johnston. Surely you know that name?"
Clark glanced to the other men, who all had blank looks.
"I know who Margaret Johnston is," Lois said quietly.
Shane advanced on her. Clark shuffled closer to her. "Then you must understand why I can't marry her," Shane said, stopping only a few inches from Lois's face.
"I understand why she would change her name," Lois said.
"It's not that she changed her name!" Shane bellowed. "It's that she didn't tell me. She was going to marry me without telling me. She let me think her family would be coming to the wedding. She let me think they were a normal family. She didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth."
"What happened wasn't Margaret's fault," Lois said.
"Exactly!" Shane shouted. "It wasn't her fault. And if she'd been open and told me the truth, I would have understood. But she didn't! She didn't tell me. She didn't trust me." He leaned into the wall, his arms high, his head buried in them.
Clark looked across to Lois. "Who's Margaret Johnston?" he muttered.
"She was the little girl in a Metropolis crime family," Lois replied. "It was huge news in the seventies. I studied the case in high school."
"What happened?" Andrew asked.
"The Johnston family speciality was bank robberies," Lois said. "The father and two almost-grown sons would enter a bank. They would draw their guns and demand money from the teller. If anyone attempted to stop them, they would shoot at the little girl standing in the queue with her mother. The girl would drop, everyone was either too shocked to move or went to aid the little girl. The men made a getaway. A few minutes later, the girl miraculously recovered, mom picked her up, and they left, too."
"They shot at their little girl?" Clark asked in horror.
"They shot in her direction. She fell as if she'd been hit."
"Were they caught?" Andrew asked.
"Not the first two times," Lois said. "But the third time, something went wrong, and Margaret was hit in the shoulder by a bullet. A young man charged at the father and was shot and killed by one of the sons. The mother took Margaret away, but a couple of days later, the little girl was left outside a hospital. The wound had become infected. When she was well enough to talk with the police, what she told them enabled them to locate the family. They were tried, convicted, and jailed. The papers reported that the girl had survived the wound, but never said what happened to her. It was believed she went to a foster family."
"She did," Shane said scathingly from his position against the wall. "She became Jane Jones - new name, new life, new -"
"What is wrong with that?" Lois snapped. "Margaret Johnston was only five years old when her family used her as a diversion in three bank robberies. She was innocent, and she -"
Shane spun away from the wall. "Yes," he exploded. "She was innocent. So why didn't she just tell me the truth? Why didn't she tell me that her family is in prison? Why did she let me think that they would be coming to the wedding? Why did she let me think everything was normal? Why did she lie to me?"
"She said her family would be here?" Clark asked. "She told you that?"
"No," Shane said sourly. "I assumed her family would be coming to her wedding. That's reasonable, isn't it? She didn't correct me. Didn't say a word. Just kept quiet and hoped that by the time I realised the truth, it would be too late."
"Perhaps she was scared," Clark said.
"Scared of what?" Shane spat.
"Scared of how you'd react," Clark said. "Scared that if you knew the truth, you'd feel differently about her. Scared that telling you the truth would change everything."
"Telling me the truth would have proved that she trusted me," Shane said bitterly.
"When?" Clark said. "When should she have told you?"
Shane looked up, his mouth opened but no words came. "Definitely before the wedding," he said eventually. "We were supposed to be getting married today, and yet there is a whole part of her life she was hiding from me."
Clark stepped closer to Shane. "I agree that she should have told you before the wedding," he said, "but it's probably not something she has told anyone before."
"I didn't know," Lois said. "I don't think anyone in college knew that Jane was Margaret Johnston."
"See?" Clark said. "It isn't something Jane wanted to be public knowledge. And for good reasons. She couldn't help being born into that family. She feared people would judge her if they knew the truth. She wanted to be free to live just like everyone else."
"OK," Shane said. "I get her not wanting it to be public knowledge, but I was going to be her husband. What if one of them escaped? Apparently, they've made threats against her because she talked to the police. What if they found new evidence about something and came to our home? What was I supposed to say? That I had no idea I was married to Margaret Johnston? That my wife didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth?"
"Jane probably wanted to tell you," Clark said. "She probably agonised over finding the right moment. She couldn't tell you before she was sure that your relationship was going to be more than just friends. But when she realised she was in love with you, she really, really didn't want to risk damaging that."
"We were engaged ten months ago," Shane said. "She had plenty of time to tell me."
"She probably planned to tell you a thousand times," Clark said. "She probably rehearsed the words over and over and imagined every possible scenario for what could happen after she's said things that can never be recalled. And the longer she left it, the bigger it got, and the more anxious she became about losing the most precious thing in her life."
"I don't feel differently because she was Margaret Johnston," Shame said tightly. "I feel differently because she didn't trust me. Because she kept a whole part of her life a secret from me."
"And if she'd told you a month ago, would you have reacted like this?" Clark asked. "Would you have called off the wedding then?"
Shane dragged his hand through his hair, making it stand to attention. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know what I would have done."
"Then how can you expect Jane to know?" Clark said. "How can you expect her to have faith in your feelings for her when you can't say what you would have done? How can you expect her to have known exactly the moment to tell you that wasn't too early but was early enough that you didn't deem her silence to be a lack of trust in you?"
Shane slowly shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I just know that it feels as if everything we shared was pretence. As if I never really knew her."
"You knew her," Clark said. "You knew the real Jane."
"She let me think she came from a normal family," Shane said.
"She was scared that telling you the truth would change things," Clark said. "She valued your love so much, she couldn't risk losing you."
"She could have told me."
"You know now."
"Only because I finally refused to be put off by her diversion tactics," Shane said. "Last night, we were talking about the wedding and I asked what time her father would be getting in this morning. She said he wasn't able to come. I told her how disappointed I was for her and asked what had happened to prevent him coming. She said she wasn't that close to her father. This was news to me, so I asked more … about her mother." He glared at Lois. "Did you know that her mother was killed by a fellow prisoner about five years ago?"
"No," Lois said. "I didn't know that."
"I thought her mother was alive. I thought her parents were coming to the wedding." Shane lurched for the bottle and took a long swig. "I told her that marriage involves trust and if she was serious about marrying me, she needed to tell me everything."
"Did she?" Clark asked.
"Yes."
"What did you do?"
"I took her home. I came back here. I started to think about all the times she'd lied to me - not with words exactly, but by not correcting my assumptions. By letting me think things were one way when they were very different. And then I realised that I couldn't marry someone who didn't trust me."
"She trusted you," Clark insisted. "She told you something she has probably never told anyone before in her life."
"It was too late," Shane bellowed. "Much, much too late."
Clark stepped back, his face ashen.
"Are you willing to talk to Jane?" Andrew asked. "See if you can work this out?"
"There's nothing more to say."
"I thought you were in love with her," Lois said. "I thought love was supposed to be more resilient than this."
"I deserved to know a long time before now," Shane said darkly. "I can't help how I feel."
"What are you feeling?" Lois asked.
"Betrayed. Left out. Confused. Alone."
"There's one person who would understand that perfectly," Clark said, "but you've shut her out."
Shane looked up, surprise filtering through his resentment.
"I'm sure Jane feels betrayed by her family," Clark said. "I'm sure she felt left out in the foster homes. I'm sure she loved the idea of finally being a part of a family again. I'm sure she was overjoyed to find someone who loved her for who she is."
"I didn't know who she is," Shane said. "How can I love her?"
"Maybe she hoped your love was strong enough that the other stuff didn't matter."
"It matters," Shane grated. "She should have told me."
"She probably realises that now," Clark said. "She probably knows she made a mistake. But I think you need to accept that she never meant to hurt you. She has probably spent hours trying to plan the right way to tell you - the right moment, the right words, the right amount of detail."
Shane shrugged. "I can't even get a handle on my own feelings," he said. "I know Jane is upset, but what am I supposed to do? Turn up to the wedding and make vows to a woman who feels like a stranger to me?"
"No," Clark said. "But this …" He gestured towards the bottle in Shane's hand. "… this isn't helping."
"I'm not going to speak to her while I'm so angry," he said.
"What are you going to do?" Andrew asked.
"Go to bed," his brother replied. "Maybe this will make more sense when I wake up."
"What about the wedding?" Andrew said.
"I've already told you," Shane replied. "There will be no wedding." He marched from the room, taking the bottle with him.
"He means it, doesn't he?" Andrew said sadly.
"Yeah," Clark said. "Maybe he'll feel differently when he's had some sleep."
Andrew walked Clark and Lois to the front door. "Thanks for coming," he said. "At least you managed to get some answers."
"I don't think I helped much," Clark said. "People are going to be curious about why they called off the wedding. It's going to be hard for Jane's past to stay a secret."
"I'll talk to my brothers," Andrew said. "We'll work out something."
"Thanks," Clark said. "I'm sure Jane will appreciate that."
He took Lois's hand, and they ran through the rain to the car.
He opened her door and then hurried to the driver's side. As he shut his door, Lois turned to him.
"OK, Clark," she said. "What is the big secret that you're hiding?"
