Second Choice: 12/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
When they got back into the house, the phone was ringing. Clark answered it, unsurprised to hear Wayne Irig's voice issuing from the speaker.
"Hello, Wayne," he said in answer to the older man's inquiry. "We're fine. It missed us by about half a mile. Are you and Nettie all right?"
"We're all right," Irig's voice said. "I'm gonna have some damage to clear up tomorra, though. That big oak tree out back came down in the wind."
"I'll come over in the morning to help you chop it up," Clark told him. "You're sure you and Nettie are okay?"
"Yeah," Wayne told him. "I'm gettin' a bit stiff to go climbin' down ladders in the middle o' the night, but we're okay. I'll see you tomorra, sometime."
"Good night," Clark said.
**********
And now, Part 12:
Clark woke at seven the next morning and in spite of a disturbed night's sleep, Lois opened her eyes as he was climbing out of bed.
"Morning," she murmured.
"Morning," he replied. "I thought I'd fix breakfast for everybody and then give Wayne a call. The wind last night blew down the oak tree in back of his place. I promised to come help him chop it up this morning."
"Was that what you were talking about on the phone?" She sat up.
Clark's eyes flicked instinctively to her torso, inadequately covered by the black outfit. He'd carefully dried it for her with his heat vision the night before, prior to her getting back into bed. "Yeah," he said, belatedly answering her question. "Would you like me to get you anything to eat before I head on over? Maybe some hot tea and some crackers -- or is there anything else you'd like?"
"I think I could eat a little breakfast this morning," she said, sounding slightly surprised.
"No problem. What do you want?"
She hesitated. "Uh -- you're not going to believe this." She looked a little embarrassed.
"Try me."
"Would you believe, a banana split with three kinds of chocolate ice cream? I'm sure you haven't got the ingredients, so I'll settle for cereal, I guess. Do we have Cocoa Puffs?"
Clark hadn't known Lois all this time without becoming aware of her addiction to chocolate. "I'll see what I can find," he told her. "Just take your time getting dressed and I'll try to have something with plenty of chocolate when you get down to the kitchen."
Stepping outside the bedroom door moments later, he quickly scanned the house. As might have been expected, Ellen Lane was still sound asleep, which was probably just as well. If she didn't have a hangover this morning, it was going to be a miracle. Lucy was also sleeping. He shifted into super speed and a second or two later he strolled through the door of Edwards and Sons Grocers and Bakery on Smallville's Main Street. Seven minutes after entering the store, he pushed a laden cart up to the checkout counter.
Eleanor Beale, who had been one of his mother's friends, was the checker this morning, and she raised her eyebrows at the groceries that he set out on the counter. "Chocolate ice cream?" she asked. "Rocky Road and Chocolate Almond Praline?" She examined the fudge sauce, maraschino cherries, various other condiments, whipped cream, and walnuts that he set down next to the more mundane cartons of milk and orange juice, fresh-baked bread and the bunch of bananas. "Having a chocolate sundae for breakfast, Clark?"
"No," Clark said, smiling.
At that instant, the eyes of Smallville's most notable gossip lit on the gold band that he wore on the third finger of his left hand. "Since when did you get married?"
"After graduation," he informed her, deliberately neglecting to give the date.
"I never heard anything about it," Eleanor said.
"Well --" Clark lowered his voice. "Her family didn't really approve of me, so we didn't advertise it."
"My goodness!" She began to ring up the groceries. "Where are you living now?"
"On the old farm," Clark told her.
"Oh -- but isn't it terribly run down?" Eleanor asked. "I'd think it would be, after so long!"
"I fixed it all up in my spare time, before the wedding," Clark explained with deceptive ingenuousness. "You'd hardly recognize it now, since I got finished with it."
"But -- I heard you were going to college in the fall. How can you do that and farm the land, too?"
"I'm renting out the land," Clark explained. "And I'm enrolling in Midwest U -- that's only an hour's drive from here. I'm arranging my classes so I only have to drive it three times a week. That way I can live at home and avoid the cost of university housing."
"Oh," Eleanor said. She glanced at the groceries again, this time out of the corner of her eye. "Are those for your wife?"
"Yes," Clark said, noncommittally, well aware that by the end of the day it was going to be all over town that Clark Kent was married and that his wife was expecting. Oh well -- in a small town like this, as Maisie had been frequently known to say, everybody knew everything about everybody. He certainly hadn't been the only high school senior to get married right after graduation. If he and Lois could keep the actual circumstances of the wedding to themselves, that would have to suffice. He'd already heard several rumors that were circulating about at least two of the young women who had married their high school boyfriends immediately after graduating from school. The rumor was that they had done so because they were "in the family way," as he had overheard one of the older patrons of Maisie's Diner delicately describe it to her hostess. It certainly wouldn't be an entirely unprecedented event in Smallville. Most persons smiled knowingly and shrugged such things off. Even the gossip-mongers of the town appeared to think that as long as a couple had "done the right thing", that a baby born six or seven months after the actual wedding wasn't worth more than a few minutes of entertainment at the most.
He paid the bill, picked up the two bags of groceries and left the store, whistling softly. A couple of minutes later he was touching down behind the barn, out of view of anyone in the house. He strolled casually into the kitchen only a minute or so later and began his breakfast preparations for Lois. When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in a blouse and a pair of snug jeans that immediately drew his attention, he was able to present her with the requested banana split with three kinds of chocolate ice cream.
Her eyes widened and then began to fill with tears. "You went to all that trouble for me? You are such a romantic idiot!"
He put his arms around her. "Only because I'm insanely in love with you. Do you mind that I want to make you happy?"
She shook her head and sniffled. "No. It's just that nobody's ever really gone out of their way for me. I didn't think I was worth it."
In some ways, he thought, Lois had been lonelier than he had been while growing up. At least Martha and Jonathan Kent had left no doubt in his mind that they had loved him. Lois had been raised by an alcoholic mother whose interactions with her daughters seemed to consist largely of criticism, and a father who had been so involved in his work, and so focused on what he wanted, that he hadn't had much time for her -- or Lucy, for that matter, he thought. He and Lois would have to do what they could to help Lois's little sister to realize that they did care about what happened to her. But it also behooved him to let Lois know that with him she would always be first. "Well, you're going to have to get used to the idea that to me, you're always worth it," he said firmly. He took her head in his hands, tilted her face back and kissed her thoroughly. When he drew back she was smiling through the tears that were running down her face. "I love you, Lois Lane. Get used to it. Now, sit down and eat that thing before it melts."
**********
Lois had nearly finished her chocolate breakfast when Ellen Lane entered the room. She was wrapped in her dressing gown and the expression of combined peevishness and misery on her face would have been difficult for him to describe. "Is there any aspirin in this godforsaken place?"
"As a matter of fact, there is," Clark said. "It's in the downstairs bathroom. Just a minute." He exited the room to return a moment later with the requested item.
Ellen took the tablets with a grunt of what he assumed was thanks and swallowed them with the glass of water that her daughter held out to her.
"Would you like some ginger ale?" Clark inquired. "I'm told it's good for an -- upset stomach."
"Later," Ellen said. She left the kitchen without further comment, to collapse on the sofa. Lois glanced into the room and made a face.
"Do you mind if I go with you to Mr. Irig's?" she asked. "I don't want to be around Mother while she's hung over."
"I don't mind at all," Clark said. "What about Lucy, though? I don't want to leave her with your mom, either."
"Neither do I. I'll get her up and we can take her along," Lois said. "I'm sure she'd rather go with us than stay here. Mother's going to be impossible to live with until she's over her binge."
"All right," Clark told her, silently chiding himself for the reflection that Ellen Lane was impossible to live with, hung over or not. "Why don't you wake her up now so she can get something to eat before we go -- and do you want anything else? You're going to burn off all that sugar pretty fast."
Lois shrugged. "How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with sweet pickles that I can take along to eat when I start to get hungry?" she said. "That tasted pretty good yesterday. By the way, do you work this afternoon?"
"I'm supposed to handle the ticket booth at the theater tonight. My shift starts at six," Clark told her. "It goes until midnight, so I'll be home right after twelve."
"All right," Lois said. "Be right back."
**********
While Lucy was eating scrambled eggs and bacon, Clark called Wayne Irig and explained that he would be bringing his wife and her sister with him. The older man didn't appear to mind, so after rinsing the dishes for later washing, Clark, Lois and Lucy set out for the Irig's home in the little blue car, leaving Ellen on the sofa with a wet washcloth on her forehead.
The Irig farmhouse was similar to the Kent home. It had a more battered appearance, probably, Clark thought, because Wayne hadn't painted it in a couple of years. Lois drove carefully into the area of packed earth between the house and the barn due to the presence of a number of chickens wandering aimlessly about the area, pecking at the ground. On the fence nearby, a large, brilliantly colored rooster announced their arrival to the world and a moment later Nettie Irig opened the kitchen door as they got out of the car.
"Hello, Clark." She smiled at him. "And this must be your bride." She opened the door wider. "Lois, is it? And --" She looked questioningly at Lucy.
"This is my sister-in-law, Lucy Lane," Clark said. "Have you met Lois before?"
"I've seen you now and then," Nettie said, addressing Lois. "Isn't Ellen Lane your mother?"
Lois nodded.
"I thought she'd mentioned you. You don't look much like her. Come on in."
"You know my mother?" Lois asked.
"I met her at the Bridge Club," Nettie said. "So, would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee while the men are taking care of the tree?" She turned to Lucy. "Come on in, honey. I don't know if you'd like to watch the morning television shows but I'm sure we can find something for you. My granddaughter is going to be here in half an hour. She's thirteen -- just about your age. Do you know Celia Johnson? She goes to Smallville Middle School."
"She was in my class last year," Lucy said, her expression brightening.
"Wonderful! I'm sure the two of you will be able to find something to do." Nettie Irig herded Lois and Lucy into the house before turning to Clark. "Wayne is out in back, behind the barn," she said. "He said to tell you to go right out there. There was something he wanted to show you."
"All right," Clark said. He trotted around the building toward the spot where the ancient oak tree had stood.
Wayne Irig had evidently been busy this morning. While he had been waiting for Clark he'd apparently harnessed his tractor to the big tree and hauled it clear of the place where it had stood since the time his grandfather had first built the house and begun to farm the land. Now he was busy with a chain saw, lopping off the branches. Clark waved and jogged toward him.
Irig lowered the saw and stood waiting until Clark arrived.
"Wow," Clark said, regarding the fallen tree. "The wind must have been fierce here last night."
Irig grunted. "Kinda. There's another saw over there." He nodded toward a second chain saw lying across a tree stump a short distance away. "When we're done here, I need to show you somethin'," he added. "When the tree came up it uncovered somethin' -- never seen anything like it before. Saw it when I dragged the tree away from the spot."
"Oh?" Clark said.
"Yeah -- some kinda green-glowin' crystal. I put it in the barn -- figured it might be somethin' you oughtta take a look at before I let anybody else see it."
Clark glanced at Wayne, wondering just what was on his mind. Wayne Irig was a taciturn man who never said much about anything, but Clark had always wondered if he knew more about Clark's origin than he'd admitted. He'd never asked questions about some of the odder things that had happened since Clark had come to stay, and Clark had decided finally that if he did suspect anything, he had no intention of talking about it.
For some time only the buzz of the chain saws broke into the otherwise normal sounds of the Irig farm on a Saturday morning. Finally, they finished cutting off the last of the branches. Clark surveyed the trunk. "This shouldn't take long. How do you want to do this?"
"We'll cut it up for firewood," Irig said. "I figure I'll split the logs later and stack 'em on the woodpile. Be good to have this winter."
"Good idea," Clark said.
"You can take some of it, since you're helpin' me," Irig added.
Clark nodded. "Thanks. I appreciate it."
"Figured you can use it now that you're married. Save on heating costs." Wayne started up his saw and went to work on the thick trunk. Clark did so as well.
They finished some time later. Clark straightened up. "Why don't we take a breather and then I can cart this stuff over to your woodpile," he suggested.
Irig nodded. "Let's put the saws away and I'll show you what I found," he said.
"You said it was a green crystal? Some kind of quartz, maybe?"
Irig shook his head. "Don't think so. I've lived on this land for sixty-two years and I seen lots of rocks, but I never saw nothin' like this before."
A faint prickle ran over Clark's scalp. "What do you think it is?"
"Dunno. Thought maybe you'd have some idea." He looked meditatively at Clark. "Maybe I oughtta tell you," he said slowly, "I've been down in your storm cellar. Right after Jonathan and Martha got killed in that accident. They'd left legal stuff, put me in charge o' watchin' the place. There was a busted board in the middle of the floor. I got a look at what was hidden under it." He was silent for several seconds. "I remembered that flap about the space debris, right about the time Jonathan and Martha said you'd been born."
"Wayne --"
"Didn't like those government types, though, the way they went snoopin' around," Irig said. "Askin' funny questions. Acted like they didn't really believe what I told 'em, pesterin' your dad and mom. Don't trust the government when they get too interested in people's property," he added. He was silent for a moment. "I replaced the board," he said finally. "Never said nothin' about it to nobody. Didn't figure it was anybody's business." He gestured toward the barn. "You've always been a good kid. Never any trouble for anybody, always tryin' to do the right thing. Jonathan and Martha would have been proud of you."
"Thanks," Clark said. There really wasn't much else to say.
The Irig barn was much like the one on the Kent property except this one was a working barn instead of one that stood empty. Several stalls for Irig's cows gaped open, a milk pail hung from a nail on one wall and there was the unmistakable scent of hay and farm animals. Motion overhead caught Clark's eye and he looked up to see a calico cat perched on one of the beams, watching them inscrutably. From somewhere above in the loft, he could hear the needle-like cries that told him a litter of kittens was notifying their mother that it was getting close to mealtime.
Wayne led the way toward the storerooms in the back and opened the one on the far left.
Inside, a long wooden workbench against one wall held an array of items from a bucket of nails and a hammer to an ancient and obviously non-functioning wind-up alarm clock and a sack labeled Smallville Feed Store. Several larger sacks that apparently contained fertilizer leaned against another wall and above them on a shelf, a battery-powered radio held a light coating of dust, which showed unmistakable handprints. A shovel and rake stood in one corner and a rough wooden cabinet in the rear was locked with a tarnished padlock. Wayne reached up to pull the chain on a dangling light fixture overhead and, in the illumination provided by the un-shaded bulb, crossed the room toward the cabinet. Dust floated in the air, visible in the yellow light.
The old farmer removed a heavily laden key ring from his pocket, fumbled with the lock for a few seconds and then it clicked open with surprising ease for such an old lock. He opened the rough wooden door and removed a metal box.
The box was also locked with a padlock. Wayne set the box down on the workbench. If Clark was any judge, the thing was heavy. He moved forward, unobtrusively lowering his glasses and tried to x-ray the contents, only to discover that he couldn't. Wayne selected a second key on his key ring and opened that lock as well.
He lifted the lid and at once a green glow was visible from the depths of the box. Inside, he caught a glimpse of a hunk of what looked like granite, with large, green-glowing chunks of crystal apparently sprouting from its surface. He wasn't given more than an instant to take in its appearance, however, for the pain hit him at once. His muscles cramped in agony, his stomach lurched and a wave of weakness washed over him. The strength seemed to run out of his muscles like water from an upended glass.
Wayne was looking at the mysterious thing and must not have realized at first that anything was wrong. "Since I ain't seen anything like this before, I figured it had to be from somewhere else," he was saying. "You got any idea what it is?"
Clark heard the words as if from a far distance. He braced one hand against the wall, trying to keep his balance. The room seemed to be swaying alarmingly around him and every individual cell in his body was on fire.
"Wayne --" he gasped.
Irig looked up, surprise apparent on his features. "What's the matter?"
"Something wrong --" Clark got the words out through lips that suddenly didn't seem to be able to form them. "Hurts --"
"You think it's this thing?" Irig shut the box at once but Clark was barely aware of it. The last thing he was aware of was the sensation of falling and of blackness rolling up to meet him.
**********
tbc
