Part Twelve
The shock of Lana’s announcement during the late afternoon newscast pushed Clark to behave in a way that was out of character and could quite possibly put his private life in jeopardy. All he could think of was getting out and away from the stares and comments of his co-workers especially Lois. He knew that they meant well, but nothing anyone could say would erase the deep ache of Lana’s unfaithfulness.
Bursting from the stifling atmosphere of the bullpen with inhuman speed, he escaped the confines of the building and flew into the late afternoon sky, escaping earth’s atmosphere he did not stop until utterly free of the confines of the planet. For a time he floated aimlessly, gazing at the stark, cold beauty of the stars.
He flew to many lonely and isolated places on the Earth; the Bay of Whales in Antarctica, majestic Kilimanjaro in Africa and the North Pole in the Arctic. He contemplated the frozen, solitary splendor of these desolate locations, but they could not match the hollowness in his heart. After traveling aimlessly for a few hours, he arrived at the one place in the world he should have come to from the beginning. The warmth of an early summer Kansas evening was a welcome change from the chilly climates he had just returned from.
High above where no one could see him on a dark, cloudy Kansas night flew the solitary figure of Clark Kent. A mile below, stood a familiar structure which bespoke of memories of home, security and most of all …love. The Kent farmhouse was dark, save for a flickering bluish light in the living room. Joe and his young family were probably watching television, unaware of the alien phenomenon floating silently above their tranquil home.
Clark wanted to use his abilities to peek into the house and hope for the barest of miracles. To see his father and mother puttering around the house, being themselves …being a family again. His mind was perfectly aware they were gone, buried for many years in Smallville’s simple cemetery on the other side of town. But it didn’t mean the heart’s desire to see them again didn’t bubble up inside like a cold spring.
It made no sense to dwell on memories of the past. He needed to find a place to rest and grieve from the searing memory of the present. So he turned to the east, to his second home in Smallville - the Irig’s farm.
He wiped his face clear of hot tears and thought again of Lana. How could anyone – especially someone he thought he knew - be so calculating and heartless? Hadn’t they spoken only a couple of days ago? Obviously, she had already been married to Daae when she called and then didn’t have the decency to tell him. Thinking back on it, he realized that, from the day she had announced her plans to go to Europe she had been evasive, distant. Were they seeing each other even then?
He mind went back to a passionate moment – a lapse of judgment - with Lois. Wasn’t he guilty of being unfaithful as well? If that was the case, instead of contemplating marriage with Lana he should be grateful they were now apart. How could he want to marry one woman and yet yearn for another?
He remembered the last conversation with the normally personable Mrs. Lang, her tone was nervous. She clearly did not want to talk with Clark. Perhaps she was embarrassed by her daughter’s behavior? It was immaterial now. Besides his hurt, he worried for Lana’s safety. Daae was a monster. If an opportunity presented itself, he had to warn her.
He looked down on the Irig farm. Every light in the house was on, even the barn lights. Alarmed, Clark scanned the area and flew down and landed behind the barn. He walked slowly to the front porch whistling a tune from his childhood, letting the Irigs know it was him and not a stranger. It wouldn’t do for them to receive frequent visits from Clark, after all that would be hard to explain flying back and forth on a newspaper reporter’s salary.
The familiar figure of his Uncle Wayne appeared on the porch. “Clark? Is that you, son?” he called out into the darkness.
Clark did not answer but trotted over to the house. He stood before his uncle feeling tried and far older than his twenty-six years. He pushed out the words, “You … you heard?”
Wayne nodded his head, “Pete called, tol’ me everything. He couldn’t find you and thought this might be the one place you would go. That’s why all the lights were on.”
“Uncle Wayne, I … I was going to ask her to marry …” No further words escaped his lips.
The older man walked briskly over to Clark and throwing an arm across his shoulder said, “Come on into the house son, sit down and have a bite to eat. Where have you been?”
“I … do …need to sit for ... awhile. I went flying. Don’t know where exactly … some cold places.” The words fell from his mouth twisted and wrecked, like pieces of a sword broken in battle. Slowly, as if his legs were incased in lead, Clark walked with his uncle. He balled up his hands and stuffed them into the expensive dress pants as if they were a pair of faded and comfortable jeans.
Wayne was briefly taken aback by his appearance and hopelessness. This was not the cheerful and positive Clark he’d helped raise. The change deeply concerned, even frightened him a little. Clark had suffered so much pain and rejection already in his life; he did not deserve any of this. Especially from someone who knew *everything* about him. Wayne knew that if Lana were standing in front of him, he might be hard put not to slap her for such shameful behavior. But right now he needed to put any thoughts about that hussy aside and help the young man before him. “Pete spoke to your boss. Mr. White says take a couple of days. He understands that this has been a nasty shock. Your old bedroom’s already fixed up.”
A quick scan of the farmhouse revealed it was empty, “Where’s Aunt Mary?”
“Went to her sister’s yesterday … I’m going to be a great uncle!” Wayne said cheerfully.
Clark smiled half-heartedly, “That’s great. Nice to hear some *good news* for a change ...”
As they walked up the front steps he was deeply grateful for the warmth of his uncle’s invitation and yet unsure what else to say. Upon entering the cozy kitchen he sat down heavily at the large oak table and declined any food; all the pot roast in the world could not ease the emptiness of his heart.
***
Jack came up to Lois’ desk and asked, “Any word from Clark?”
“Yes, his former roommate, Dr. Pete Ross called. He said Clark just needed a few days, this announcement from *Mrs.* Daae,” Lois said her name as if it were poison, “was quite a shock. He’ll be back soon.”
“That’s good. If he calls, please tell him ‘Hi’ from me and Stacy!”
Lois nodded her head in agreement and went back to reading the article on her monitor. It still seemed like a bad dream that anyone – even Lana - could be so cruel. Who does something like that anyway? She had known that conniving blonde was self absorbed, but this was beyond belief. Mentally she shook the thoughts away, much as she liked Clark and she *did* like him, this was actually none of her business. When he returned in a couple of days Perry would be sure to give him plenty of work to occupy his mind.
***
The Kansas morning dawned clear, hard and bright the sunshine beamed down so strong it hurt the eyes. An ocean of rich, ripening golden wheat swayed in the breeze on either side of the old, but dependable red and white Ford pick-up as it rolled easy over the paved road. Clark drove the old truck and allowed the gentle beauty of the scenery to occupy his thoughts and allow him a little relaxation. He even listened with some appreciation to his uncle’s well worn cassette of Hank Williams tunes. Last night, after some buttermilk and a few almond cookies he had gone up to his old bedroom. After a brisk shower, he had slid under the freshly washed sheets; they had felt cool and crisp next to his slightly damp skin. Maybe his parents weren’t alive anymore and the Kent homestead was currently being occupied by another family, but Smallville always represented a peaceful haven for him.
With those thoughts moving lazily through his mind, Clark had fallen into a light and fitful sleep.
Wayne had gotten precious little sleep himself last night. His nephew’s face was etched with deep hurt and anguish. Apparently he had been going to ask Lana to marry him. He couldn’t have imagined a worst fate for the boy. Lana was not quality, no matter how wealthy her husband was. He wondered about the man she had chosen over Clark. He must be a real piece of work to take a woman who was seeing someone else.
Well, personally he was glad they had found each other and Lana could leave his nephew alone.
He decided it was time for a little conversation. “Glad you’re here son, those fence posts weren’t about to fix themselves. But we’re gonna do this the old-fashioned way!”
“Tell me where to stop.” Clark responded in a lackluster manner.
The truck reached a bad stretch of road; they bounced along for awhile, both of them feeling a little like peas in a can. Just when Wayne thought he had enough, the line of posts, pitted and scarred from years of wear that needed to be replaced came into view. “Right about here.”
Quickly Clark pulled the heavy vehicle over and together they removed the equipment for the job; shovels, a pickaxe, a two handled post-hole digger, the new posts and heavy work gloves.
From a bird’s eye view the two men could be seen toiling in the hot sun to replace a recalcitrant fence post on the edge of a wheat field. They worked in companionable silence, the older patiently waiting for the younger to speak. Around noon, as they were taking a break from their labors, Wayne leaned against the truck, removed a blue and white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. “Gettin’ warm, time we stop for a bit. Please hand me a bottle of water.”
Abruptly, Clark said, “Maybe, if I had gone to Zurich, Lana wouldn’t have married that Daae guy.”
Wayne put a consoling hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “Son, it makes no sense to be all busted up inside for someone who don’t care about you.”
The words, although they made perfectly good sense, stung Clark and he angrily shrugged off the hand, “B … but the man she’s married to is *dangerous*! Lana could get seriously hurt simply being with him. She might need my help!” He was standing up to leave when he heard his uncle’s sharp voice bark. “Sit down!”
Shocked, Clark turned and glared at Wayne. “I am not a child. Don’t speak to me like one.”
<No, he was not a child, yet Wayne wanted to treat him like a teen-ager, who was suffering after bustin’ up from his first sweetheart because, right now, that was how he was behaving. Convincing Clark that he would survive this was gonna take some mighty straight talkin’.> The old man studied Clark and then answered, this time his voice was gentle in tone and volume. “Sorry son, but shouting was the only way to get through that super-thick skull of yours. Please, have a seat.” Wayne gestured to the tailgate of the pick-up.
Clark did not sweat, but he was hot with anger. Whereas sweat pored off Wayne’s face and the back of his shirt was black with perspiration. Yet for all the heat beating down on them from the Kansas sun, Wayne was as relaxed as if he were drinking a tall, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade in his wife’s cozy kitchen.
“’Member we talked a mite before you left about Lana respectin’ you? If she *wanted* to tell you about this Daae fella, why not come right out and say it? They got phones in Zurich. What kept her from calling? Ever since she was a child, when Lana set her mind to something, she did it and to hell with the consequences.”
Clark held his head down, unable to answer. Because no matter how hard it pained him, Uncle Wayne was right.
Taking Clark’s silence as permission to continue speaking he said,
“When your Pa and me was in Korea, at least four poor saps in our unit got ‘Dear John’ letters.”
“It’s not the same,” Clark muttered.
“Sure as shootin’ it is! What those girls did weren’t right... but at least they *respected* the men enough to tell them it was over.”
“Maybe she didn’t know how. Maybe … just maybe, she was afraid.” His voice trembled slightly.
Genuinely perplexed, Wayne cocked his head and said, “Of what?”
Now the young man’s voice was barely audible, the older man had to strain to hear. “Maybe … maybe she was afraid of ... me.”
“What!” Wayne exploded, “Why?”
“I’m not exactly *Earth* normal. She could have been frightened of my temper.”
“Well, if that …! Clark Jerome Kent, you are one of the *gentlest* souls I know. Don’t go thinkin’ up excuses for her contrariness! She threw you over like a dented can of corn.”
“But … Lana’s always wanted so much out of life.” Clark said softly, “I could have tried to give her that life.”
“Yeah, but she also wanted it no matter what *you* or anybody else wanted or what you would have had to sacrifice to give it to her.”
Wayne grew still, allowing a moment for reflection and then said quietly, “The truth is, she found someone that could provide her with every material thing she wanted and that you couldn’t. She latched onto him as quick as she could. Son, right now, the hurt and humiliation’s runnin’ deep. But give it time.”
“How much time does it take to get over something like this?” Clark asked
“It’ll take as long as it takes,” he smiled grimly and continued,
“You’re the only one who knows for sure. But I’ll tell you this, Smallville stands behind you. After all, you are still a resident of this town, even if you don’t visit as often as folks would like. If anyone receives an invitation from the Langs for that splashy city wedding she’s plannin’, those of us who remember Jonathan and Martha and have any respect for the Kent name won’t be going.” He chuckled softly to himself, “Mary called me this morning, and told me what she had heard from the folks eatin’ breakfast in Maisie’s diner! If Lana and her fancy new husband heard, it would have burned their ears!”
Clark looked at Wayne a shadow of a smile fleeted across his lips.
The older man got up, put on his dusty, heavy work gloves and began walking towards the fence, “Let’s get a move on, daylight’s wasting, those posts ain’t gonna fix themselves.”
Clark got up and followed his uncle, his heart a little lighter.
***
The sound of the phone ringing on her desk cut through Lois’ concentration. She stared at the device and wondered for the fifth time that day if it was Clark. She was concerned about him and understood all too well the feelings of chagrin and embarrassment he was experiencing. On the third ring she picked up the receiver.
“City desk, Lois Lane speaking.”
Rita’s voice, normally so cheerful, came over the line as thoughtful and subdued, “Glad I caught you. A package arrived from one of my old contacts this morning. You might just be interested in examining the contents. How about meeting me at the museum entrance near Shackleton’s statue at Centennial Park tomorrow after the lunch hour rush?”
Lois stood up, reached for her briefcase and was ready to charge out of the bullpen. “What! I can come over right now!”
“No.” Rita responded firmly. “Your uncle and the staff need my help today. I’m doing this favor without Mike’s knowledge. Understand?”
Lois nodded as if her aunt stood before her. For Rita to be doing this behind her husband’s back was serious. “All right then, after lunch … tomorrow.”
“Good. See you then. ‘Bye.” Without another word Rita hung up.
***
The next night after spending another day in Smallville with Wayne and Mary, Clark landed on the balcony of his apartment. Simply being in Smallville again had started the healing process, but it was good to be back in Metropolis … home again. He opened the balcony door and stepped into the recognizable comfort of his bedroom. Everything was exactly the way he’d left it.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the darkness, “Hello Clark. Come in and shut the door. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Lana!” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”
He heard the sharp click of a lamp switch and then suddenly the living room exploded into life. Standing by the couch was Lana Lang-Daae.
The exquisitely turned out woman before him bore very little resemblance to the upwardly mobile professional girl who’d departed on a simple, yet important museum assignment for Zurich two months earlier. In her place stood a fashionably attired young woman of means; from her perfectly coiffed hair and make-up to the delicate night blooming floral scent of the classical French perfume, Guerlain Shalimar.
She smiled, and without a hint of remorse said, “To see you of course.”
Last edited by Morgana; 09/23/16 01:42 PM.
