If things had been different, perhaps she'd be on the phone now, talking to him - telling him about her day and hearing about his.
Perhaps she would be looking forward to a time when evenings meant being with him, talking, laughing, sharing, drinking his coffee. Kissing. Cuddling.
Lois sighed.
If only …
She felt as if longing had gnawed a big hole through the middle of her heart. Would it close over? Or would it remain a gaping empty mess for the rest of her life?
The phone shrilled, and Lois's heart clunked somewhere low in her stomach.
Could it be him? He hadn't called. Or if he had, she hadn't been home, deliberately so. But now … She gulped. Should she answer it? She didn't want to talk to him. She couldn't talk to him. She wouldn't have an answer if he simply enquired how she was.
Unable to stay away, Lois rose slowly and walked to the phone. Her hand hovered through several rings. Then she snatched at it, put it to her ear, and squeaked, "Hello?"
Part 9
"Lois. It's … it's Jane."
Oh. Jane. Lois's stomach rolled, but she couldn't have said if her reaction was relief or disappointment. "Ah … hi, Jane. How … how are you?"
"I'm so sorry about everything," Jane said. "I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing."
It hadn't been for nothing. It had been worse than nothing. Better than nothing. It had been everything. "How are you?" Lois repeated. "Have you talked to Shane?"
"A little. Lois, I want to thank you for not printing anything. I thought maybe … maybe you'd write the story of where I am now, and the fact that I ruined my chance of happiness would make it newsworthy. I've been checking the Daily Planet every day. I appreciate your discretion."
"That's … you're welcome," Lois said, startled that she hadn't even thought about the potential for a story. "Does everyone know why Shane called off the wedding?"
"I told my two closest friends, Emma and Belinda. People have been really kind and not asked too many questions. Shane has taken the leave we booked for the honeymoon, but I've gone back to the paper. It helps keep my mind off everything."
"Yeah," Lois said. "Do you think there's any chance of reconciliation with Shane?"
"He doesn't … He can't … You know?"
"I'm sorry, Jane," Lois said, realising it was true. "I wish things had worked out for you and Shane."
"It's my fault," she said. "I knew I should have told him. It was just … I never thought a man like Shane would be interested in me. Most people don't even notice I'm there. After … after I left my family, I was comfortable lurking in the background, and I never quite worked out how to leave it … until Shane came to Des Moines. He noticed me. He asked me out. He proposed. When I was with him, I felt just like everyone else. None of that other stuff mattered. I couldn't believe he wanted to be with me, and I just couldn't make myself …" Her words ground to a strangled sob.
"Maybe Shane just needs more time," Lois said. "If he truly loved you, and I think he did, his love can't be wiped away by something that wasn't your fault."
"It was my fault. I wasn't honest with him."
"It's the past, Jane. It doesn't affect who you are now. There was no need to tell him."
"It does affect who I am now," Jane said sadly. "It affects me everyday. I have no family. I have to watch everything I say. When people ask normal questions about my folks, I have to be vague, and I'm an expert at changing the subject."
"Why did you tell Shane that your father would be coming to your wedding?"
"I didn't. He assumed my parents would be coming. I almost told him that my mother had passed away, but I knew he'd ask how she died and I didn't have any answers for that without lying. I asked Emma and Belinda to be my bridesmaids because I could honestly say that I don't have any sisters. I tried to ask Shane's father if he would walk down the aisle with me because he only has sons, but he said that was a father's honour and he couldn't let my father miss out."
"Surely Shane had questions when you didn't send invitations to family members."
"Shane comes from a family of boys. They … Weddings aren't really their thing - not the details, anyway. I sent the invitations. I invited everyone I could remember from college and even high school. You were the only one who accepted."
"Oh." Lois moved on quickly. "What about your foster family?"
"There were seven foster families," Jane said. "I'm not close with any of them. And anyway, just the mention of foster parents leads to a whole new set of questions."
"You could have said that your birth parents had died when you were a child."
"But that's not the truth."
"Jane, sometimes it's OK to make up a story to protect someone. Even if that someone is you."
"Is that what you really believe?"
"Yes." Unless the story involves a baby in a spaceship, and then …
"I'm not very good at lying," Jane said. "Not outright. So I just let people assume things about me and don't say anything. I let Shane believe my father would be coming and hoped that when the time came, we'd be so caught up in the wedding that my father's absence wouldn’t be a big deal. But it became a big deal on Friday night when Shane demanded answers."
And when she had given those answers, Shane had rejected her. "I'm so sorry, Jane," Lois said. "I wish there was something I could do to help."
"You could give me your word that you won't write my story."
"You have it."
"Thank you," Jane said with a gush of relief. "I just want everyone to forget that Margaret Johnston ever existed."
Lois fiddled with the phone cord, not knowing what to say.
"Thanks for taking my call, Lois. I know you don't really consider me to be your friend - I'm sure you have hundreds of friends - but I'll never forget that you came to my … that you came to Des Moines."
"I … Goodnight, Jane. I hope you feel better soon."
"Goodnight, Lois."
Lois replaced the handset and slumped against the wall.
Her heart swelled with sympathy. For Jane. For the injustice she had suffered. For a woman still paying for the selfish actions of her parents.
And for Clark. Who had also lost his first family. Who also kept a secret. Who also lived set apart from those he considered 'normal'.
Lois sprang to her bag and took out her notepad. She flicked through a couple of pages and found where he'd written his details.
Looking at the page transported her back … back to the gazebo, to the cold and wet morning, to the best date of her life, to the time when she had begun to hope that she'd found a man who was different.
Different.
Clark Kent was certainly different.
She snatched the phone and dialled his number, her heart thumping like a rampage of wild buffalo. As the call went through, she hauled in a deep breath. The phone clicked as the connection was established.
"Hello. This is Clark Kent."
His voice glided across her nerve endings, and they rippled in eager response. Lois gasped. No words came. In panic, she slammed down the phone.
Her tears surged, and she turned into the wall, hugging herself as the ogre of indecision mauled her brittle heart.
Some time later, a knock sliced through her heartache.
Lois dragged her sleeve across her eyes and stumbled to the door. When she opened it, the corridor was empty.
Except …
A solitary cup of coffee had been placed outside her door. She picked it up, recognising the take-out cup as being the same as the ones Clark had brought to their breakfast picnic.
"Clark?"
His name echoed along the vacant corridor.
"Are you there, Clark?"
When no answer came, Lois closed her door, leaned against it, and drank from the cup.
It was good. So very, very good. It was Clark's coffee.
From the 'place he knew'.
Or perhaps more accurately, 'the recipe he knew'.
Clark had been here. Outside her door. Perhaps able to hear her sobs.
He had answered his phone in Des Moines just a short time ago.
I can fly.
I love flying.
If you ask me to come, I'll be there. As often as you want.
It couldn't be possible. Could it?
Human beings didn't fly. Not without an airplane. Not halfway across the United States in a few minutes.
But Clark had declared he could fly. That couldn't be hearsay from his parents. Either he could fly or he couldn't, and either way, he had to know for sure.
Lois wandered to her sofa and sat down. She sipped from the coffee, and each taste brought back another bundle of memories.
Clark.
The quiet table pushed into the corner at the party.
Dancing with him.
His arms around her.
The way he touched her.
The way he looked at her.
His sometimes bumbling, always charming, attempts to explain his feelings.
His uneasiness as she had pushed him closer and closer to the edge.
His refusal to succumb to the temptation to lie.
I would gladly risk it all for a woman I loved.
When the cup was empty, Lois's mind was full.
Full of the archive of memories she had thought could be repressed.
With a sigh, she rose from the sofa, placed the cup on her counter, and went to bed.
||~||
It was a little after 3am when Lois accepted that sleep was not going to rescue her from the turmoil of a mind in meltdown. She rolled from between her rumpled sheets and went to the closet to pull out her boxes of keepsakes. Twenty minutes later, she found the high school assignment she had written on the Margaret Johnston story a decade earlier.
The details of the case had been background to the focus of the study, which had been the agreement from all media outlets that the little girl at the centre of the tragedy deserved the chance to grow up in anonymity. They reported she had survived the gunshot wound, and then, despite clamouring public interest, had resolutely refused to divulge even the smallest morsel of information.
Lois read her essay, shaking her head at her young self's vehement insistence that the public's right to know trumped any individual's penchant for privacy. 'And when I'm the best reporter in the country, I will always give the readers the whole story, even if others in my profession choose to fail in their responsibility to keep the press free and open.'
Lois rubbed her cheek, which had heated slightly, and ran her eyes over her words again.
I will always give the readers the whole story.
Young Lois had dreamed of breaking the biggest story in world history. Right now, older Lois had it. The story that would change their world forever was sitting in the palm of her hand.
She'd told Clark she wouldn't print what he'd told her because it would tarnish her reputation.
But now …
The coffee.
How did special-recipe coffee get from Des Moines, Iowa to her apartment in Metropolis, New Troy, in a matter of minutes?
I can fly.
He hadn't mentioned that he could fly super-fast. But then, she'd hardly given him the opportunity to expound on his claims.
If those claims were true, she could prove them. There must be other instances where Clark had left fragments of evidence that verified his ability to move around with extraordinary speed. If they were there, she would find them. Then, she could write the biggest story of all time and take it to Perry.
The story of alien life on Earth would establish her place as the greatest reporter in the history of the news. She would have all the fame and accolades she had dreamed of for so long.
She would ruin Clark's life.
Lois tore up her assignment. Tore it into tiny shreds and dumped them in the trash.
She had been so very wrong. Some stories should never be told.
A little girl who had been thrust into the spotlight by cruel and greedy parents.
And a man who lived with an unbelievable secret.
The man Lois loved.
She loved him. But …
Clark Kent was a very special man. He needed a woman who could embrace his differences. A woman unwavering in her love and support. A woman willing to lie in order to protect his secret. Someone he could trust implicitly. Someone he knew would never leave him.
Lois wasn't sure she wanted to be that woman.
Wasn't sure she could be that woman.
Wasn't sure about anything.
Except Clark. And how every moment without him seemed desolate.
||~||
The alarm woke Lois just a couple of hours later. She moved through her morning routine with mechanical apathy, refusing to allow anything to lure her mind out of neutral.
But as she left her bedroom, the trash can caught her eye, nailing her feet to the floor.
The scraps of paper seemed to speak of a life in tatters.
Clark must feel as if she had ripped up his life and then walked away with callous indifference.
In her quest for clarity, she hadn't given much thought to how Clark would be feeling in the days following the most momentous weekend of his life.
Was he concerned she would print his story? Had he, like Jane, been checking the headlines every day?
How many other people knew his secret? His parents, obviously. Had he ever told anyone else?
It wasn't the sort of secret easily disclosed.
Telling her had been a huge decision. A decision that could have far-reaching consequences.
His candour about his hopes for their relationship had left him open to disappointment, but exposing his secret plummeted him to a whole new level of vulnerability.
Lois shivered.
He'd placed his life in her hands. She'd been so blinded by her own raging emotions that she'd mercilessly stomped all over his defencelessness and scorned him for his naivety.
A wave of shame crashed over her.
He must regret his trust in her. He must wish he had lied. He must wish he had put his own wellbeing ahead of her demands for information.
I would gladly risk it all for a woman I loved.
He had risked so much more than she had thought possible when he'd uttered that statement. He'd risked his way of life - his freedom, his job, his friends, his tenuous grip on normality. He'd risked it all.
For what?
For a chance to be with her?
Did that mean he loved her?
Would he understand her reaction? Would he understand that she'd needed some time to come to terms with the realities of his life? Would he give her the grace she hadn't given him?
He was still thinking about her. The coffee proved that.
Should she call him again? And this time, actually say something?
Say what?
That she was close to believing he could fly?
And then what?
That she wouldn't print his story?
She'd already told him that.
And if his feelings for her had somehow managed to survive her derision, a deeper question would be burning in his heart.
Could she ever love a man who wasn't human?
That question burned for her, too. Could she?
She did love him.
But would that love continue, day after day, for the rest of her life?
Yes! The answer resounded through her heart, leaping up to deluge her mind with a glorious dawn of confidence.
Her love for Clark was different from everything she had ever experienced.
She wanted him. Wanted to be with him.
Wanted to be the person that shared his life.
Forever.
But what of Clark?
The past few days must have been traumatic for him. Had he hardened his big soft heart? Had he allowed bitterness a foothold? Could he forgive her?
Why had he brought her coffee?
How would he respond if she went to him and tried to explain?
Would he turn away, angry and hurt?
Did he regret his honesty? Had he vowed to never trust again? Was he -
A new thought burst into her mind, freezing the flow of her thoughts and transporting her back to the house in Des Moines.
Shane had been angry … shocked … disillusioned.
Clark had pleaded with him, begging him to go to Jane and show her that love was stronger than any secret. Not for a moment had Clark appeared to consider the possibility that Jane might spurn Shane's attempt at reconciliation.
Clark had assumed Jane's forgiveness would be automatic. That Jane would understand.
Lois wasn't sure that was realistic. Maybe not for Jane. But for Clark …
Would he forgive? Would he be able to trust again? Would he trust her again? Would he allow her entry into his world to share his extraordinary life?
Would he give her the second chance she so desperately wanted?
Was she brave enough to lay her hopes before him and risk him rejecting her as she had scorned him?
Was she?
So many questions. So few answers.
With a sigh, Lois picked up her bag and went in search of a story. The lives of other people had to be infinitely simpler than hers was.
||~||
The phone was ringing as Lois entered her apartment on Thursday evening. She dumped her bag on the sofa and hurried to answer it. "Hello," she said. "This is Lois Lane."
"Lois." The female voice was breathless with excitement. "Shane came to the office today. He says he stills loves me. He wants us to get married on Saturday."
"This Saturday?" Lois gasped.
"Yes! It won't be the wedding we had planned, but we can get married in Union Park and follow the ceremony with afternoon tea. It will be small and informal, but that doesn't matter. I will be Shane's wife."
"Are you sure about this?" Lois asked. "I mean …" She searched for gentle words. Finding none, she softened her tone. "Shane called off the wedding because of something that wasn't your fault."
"He loves me," Jane said wistfully. "Oh, Lois, he was so sweet today. So sorry for the way he reacted. He just needed some time."
"He told everyone your secret."
"Not everyone. He told his brothers … I wouldn't expect him to keep secrets from his family."
"He also told Clark and me."
"He thought …" Jane gave a nervous laugh. "I told Shane you were my closest friend from college, Lois. I know it's not really true, but in another way, it kind of is. You were the only one who came to my wedding. And Clark … well, everyone trusts Clark."
She said it as if it were an accepted fact. Everyone trusts Clark.
Except Clark's life was encapsulated in an earth-shattering secret.
"Are you sure about this, Jane?" Lois said. "You don't have to rush into anything. You have time to decide what you really want."
"I decided a long time ago what I really want," Jane said. "Shane is the man who makes me feel as if nothing else matters. I know it did matter for just a few short days, but it won't ever matter again."
"Does he know how much he hurt you?"
"Yes," Jane said. "And he's very sorry. I'm just so glad he knows about what happened, and I don't ever need to be scared of him finding out again."
Lois silenced her doubts. "I'm pleased for you, Jane," she said. "You deserve to be happy."
"You are? Oh, Lois, that is such a sweet thing to say."
Lois didn't have a response to that. 'Sweet' was not a description regularly applied to Mad Dog Lane.
"I don't expect you to come to Des Moines again," Jane said, "but I want you to know that you're invited to our wedding. It's at two-thirty in Union Park. Under the trees near the East Jefferson Avenue entrance."
"I … I'm not sure about …"
… anything.
"It's OK, Lois. I'm not pressuring you to come. That would be asking too much. I just wanted you to know, and if you decided to join us on our special day, we'd love to have your company."
"Thanks."
"Oh, Lois, I'm so happy. Happier than I've ever been. From the first time Shane asked me out, I was so scared of losing him. And now … now, I can't believe he knows everything about me and he still loves me."
Her joy bubbled across the miles, returning Lois's thoughts to the one who believed his secret had destroyed his chance at love. "How's Clark?" she asked casually.
"Clark? Clark is …"
"What?"
"Clark is smiling a lot, but ..."
Lois understood immediately. Clark was pretending. He'd probably done a lot of that in his life. Pretended he fitted in. Pretended he was just like everyone else. Pretended he didn't care he was different.
"Did something happen between you and Clark?" Jane asked. "Belinda said you had breakfast together in the gazebo."
Lois wasn't ready to admit anything. "I was in Des Moines for less than twenty-four hours."
"I'm sorry, Lois. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked about you and Clark. It's just …"
"What?"
"Clark has been the most amazing friend to Shane since last week. He took pizzas around to Shane's house on Sunday afternoon, and they watched a game together. Shane says Clark helped him understand the difficulties I was facing. We owe Clark so much. I … I would love him to be happy."
"Will he be at your wedding?"
"Yes."
Feeling compelled to give a response to the invitation, Lois said, "I … I'm not sure about coming …"
"That's OK, Lois. I understand."
"Thanks for calling. I hope Saturday is everything you want it to be."
"It will be," Jane said. "I'm marrying the most wonderful man on the planet."
Lois slowly returned the phone.
She leaned against the wall and let the torrent of longing wash over her.
She wanted to be with Clark.
Even if he could fly.
Regardless of where he had been born.
The man … the heart … she wanted him. Nothing else mattered.
But did he still want her?
After what she'd said? After her scathing disbelief?
She'd hurt him.
Horribly.
He'd dreamed of love, but all of his dreams must have carried a caveat. For him, the chance of the dream turning into a nightmare was greater than for anyone else.
Lois reached for the phone again. She paused.
Clark had practically demanded that Shane forgive Jane. He had never given up on Shane's love for Jane. He'd been a friend to Shane, even after Shane had called off the wedding.
He would forgive her.
Because he was Clark Kent.
And he loved her.
He did.
He'd demonstrated it in every word, every action, every touch.
He'd proved it in trusting her with the truth.
He'd risked everything.
Lois's hand slid from the phone.
She needed to talk with Clark, but it wasn't a conversation to be had over the phone. She wanted to be with him - to see his face, to linger in his smile, to feel his arms. To talk to him and hold him and show him that her love was real.
She wanted time … time to help him see again.
See that they - Clark Kent and Lois Lane - that together, they could be incredible.
"I'm coming, Clark," she muttered. "I'll be there on Saturday, and then ..."
She chuckled softly as his smiling face floated through her imagination.
"… and then, you'll never be alone again."
