Okay so I'm FDK junkie. There. I said it. I'll respond to the last FDK on Shaken in a bit
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And because I'm a FDK junkie...
I'm starting to post this :p .
It still has no title. I have a good idea of where it's going and even how it's going to get there. Ch. 9 is done. I got past my writer's block hurdle.
This is going to be a crazy weekend. MIL is coming over momentarily [which is why I'm posting now] to make Easter cookies. Tonight we're cleaning the rest of the upstairs and finishing up the main parts of the basement. Tomorrow a friend is coming over and helping me clean out the bedroom/office in the basement - will likely be a 12 hour project as we're completely revamping the rooms. Sunday is, of course, Easter and M/SFIL will be here most of the day. So it'd be Monday before I could post.
I'm thinking an every three days or so posting schedule for now - so next post Monday
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It has no title so feel free to toss them out here. Whoever comes up with one that strikes my fancy gets my eternal gratitude and an honorable mention including a possible cameo
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Thanks - as always - to Nancy, Alisha and Beth! [And Queenie who is not reading this but did spot check a couple things for me.]
Chapter 1Clark yawned and stretched before curling back up under the covers.
He wanted to stay in that netherworld – halfway between awake and asleep where the dreams he'd had since childhood were reality.
Where he was married to a beautiful woman – a brunette, usually, whose face he could never quite see.
Where he had children he loved and doted on.
Where he could use his gifts openly and still have a life without threatening either of those things, but he was never quite sure how he did it.
And so he settled back in and tried to go back to sleep, to recapture that dream; to try to hold on to it for just a few more minutes.
But it wasn't to be.
The sunlight was streaming in through the window.
That was odd, he realized, still keeping his eyes closed. The window in his room at the farm wasn't big enough to let in that much light and, besides that, it faced west so it didn't get much morning sun.
Had he slept much later than he realized?
Was he late picking up his parents?
He opened his eyes and groaned as the light triggered something he hadn't felt in years.
Pain.
His head hurt.
Why did his head hurt?
He wasn't supposed to get hurt.
He covered his head with his pillow and somehow managed to will himself back to sleep.
When he awoke the room wasn't quite as bright and the pain in his head had settled down to a dull ache.
He covered his face with his hands then ran them through his hair.
He tried to think, to remember what happened, what could have brought on a *headache* of all things.
And then he realized something else.
He wasn't home.
He couldn't be at home.
The bed was too big; the sheets were too nice.
He finally decided to carefully open one eye.
He didn't recognize the room, but he was obviously in a hotel or, given what town he was in, more likely a bed and breakfast.
The bed was made of rich wood, a king-sized four-poster bed unless he was mistaken. Across from him, to his left was a sitting area with a couple of chairs and a fireplace in a little nook. To the right was the bathroom and, through the open door, he could see a large Jacuzzi tub.
Where was he?
Or, more importantly perhaps, why was he there and what couldn't he remember?
He pushed himself into a sitting position and realized something else he probably should have realized sooner.
He wasn't wearing any clothes.
He looked around and saw the blue jeans he remembered wearing on the floor near the window. His shoes and socks were near the door, but they hadn't been taken off carefully given how they were strewn. His T-shirt was on the floor in front of the fireplace, his flannel over one of the chairs and his boxers... Where were his boxers?
He used his enhanced vision to find them tangled in the sheets, along with something else.
He dug through the sheets, pulling the other article of clothing out.
A camisole.
At least that's what he thought it was called.
Black with lace trim.
So he hadn't been here alone, but who had he been with?
And how could he have done such a thing with someone he couldn’t have known well at all?
That was when he noticed it.
He stared at it.
Where had that come from?
Did it mean what he thought it meant?
And why couldn't he remember?
His right hand reached for his left to touch the item reverently.
He didn't understand why, but there it was.
A wedding band.
~*~*~
Twenty-four hours earlier
~*~*~
Clark hovered high over Eureka Springs, Arkansas.
"Hang on," he told his passengers, "I'm going in fast."
A minute later, he set both of them on the ground.
"Thank you, honey." Martha patted his arm. "Our own personal pilot."
Clark shrugged. "There's no sense in paying for gas and all that when I can get you here faster and easier. Happy anniversary."
"Why don't you have lunch with us?" Jonathan asked.
He shook his head. "No, it's your anniversary. You don't need me hanging around."
"It's *lunch*," Martha told him with a laugh. "After that, we'll go check into the hotel and you can do whatever you want."
Clark laughed with them. "If you're sure... The restaurant at the hotel isn't open yet, but I'm sure we can find something around here."
"Your Aunt Opal said we should try Myrtie Mae's Restaurant," Martha told them. "It's at Highway 62 and the Historic Loop," she said. "Can you find it, Clark?"
Clark lowered his glasses and looked around. "That way."
An hour and a half later, he flew back to Smallville to get their bags while they rode the trolley to the Crescent Hotel where they'd be staying the night.
He sat in one of the chairs in the spacious lobby as he waited for them. He tried to mind his own business as he waited, but he couldn't help noticing the pretty brunette sitting in one of the other chairs. She was obviously waiting for someone, he thought, as she flipped thorough a magazine off the side table.
She was keeping her eye on the main desk and stood as a young woman came around the counter.
"You ready?" the brunette asked.
The other young lady – a blonde – shook her head. "I can't go after all. Like four people called in sick and I have to stay. I'm so sorry."
The brunette sighed. "Believe me, if anyone understands working odd hours or having to cancel because of work, it's me. You know that."
"Still, you're only here for a couple days."
"I'll be okay," the brunette told her friend with a smile. "I'll explore Eureka Springs on my own."
Clark missed the rest of the conversation as his parents arrived. He handed over their bags, gave his mom a hug and headed for the door.
He'd planned on heading directly back to Smallville but the brunette was sitting on one of the benches outside the door.
She looked dejected and before he could stop himself, he sat down next to her. "Hi," he said, a bit shyly. "I'm Clark. I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I overheard your conversation inside with your friend."
She looked at him, studying him intently for a long moment. "Hello, Clark," she finally said.
"Listen, I know I'm a strange guy and you have no reason to want to, but I can be a half-decent tour guide if you're interested." He pointed over his shoulder towards the hotel. "My parents are inside. They can vouch for me."
"Really?" she asked with a raised brow.
He winced. "Actually, it's their anniversary so they're probably, um, busy already, knowing my parents."
She winced on his behalf. "Nice."
"I'll admit that I hope that my wife and I are like that when we've been married as long as my folks."
"You're... married?" she asked with a raised brow.
He shook his head instantly. "No. I just mean, someday..."
"Right." She stared at him for another long moment. "Where are you from, Clark?"
"Born and raised in Smallville, Kansas," he told her.
"Really? Smallville? That's a place?"
"Just like the big city of Metropolis," he pointed out, smothering a grin.
"Born and raised?"
He hesitated. "Technically, I don't know where I was born. My parents found me on their doorstep when I was a couple months old, but otherwise, yes. I lived in Smallville until I moved to Midwest for college."
"And now?" she pressed.
"Now, I'm between jobs. Thinking about working at the Smallville Press for a while. The editor's having valve surgery and is going to be off for a while so they need a hand, but..."
"You're in journalism?"
"Sometimes. That's what my degree is in but my last job was on the docks in a small town in South America. I try to freelance when I can. I've worked for a couple small papers here and there, but nothing long term and probably nothing you would have heard of. The last newspaper I worked for was in Borneo."
She looked him over again. "How long have you been out of college?"
"Two years."
"And how many jobs have you had in those years?"
He looked at her for a long minute. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to know how many jobs I've had?"
"Call me curious," she said with a shrug.
He gave her another long look. "Well, then, I guess I've had about a dozen jobs all around the world, plus the freelance work I mentioned."
"All around the world?"
"Yep. Several places in Asia, couple more in South America, Africa."
"So you're a... drifter?"
He hesitated before nodding. "I guess you could say that. Not sure 'sowing my wild oats' is the right phrase, but seeing the world trying to find where I fit in, what I want to do with the rest of my life, all of that. I mean, I know I want to be in journalism but where? That kind of thing."
"What if you decide not to stay in... Smallville? Or once the other guy is better and back to work?"
He shrugged. "Not sure. So whaddya say? Want a tour guide?"
"You really know that much about Eureka Springs?"
He had the good grace to look chagrinned. "No, not really, but I can make lots of stuff up."
She laughed and stood. "Okay, Clark. Let's go."
He laughed with her. "Do I even get your name before we go on this fake tour?"
"Lois."
Clark studied her face closely as they walked towards the street. "It suits you."
"That's good to know."
He grabbed her hand as he saw the trolley come up the street. "Come on."
A minute later, they were on the trolley as it headed towards historic Eureka Springs.
"So where are we going?" Lois asked him.
He shrugged. "Wherever you want. We can ride the trolley for a bit and when you see something interesting, we get off." He pulled out the map. "Look at the stops and see? There's three other routes if there's somewhere not on this route that looks interesting."
"Molly, my friend, said there's some great places to get fudge," she said, studying the map.
"Probably. Have you had lunch?"
Lois shook her head. "No. Molly and I were supposed to go when she got off work but..."
"Well, let's get you something to eat then."
The trolley stopped and Clark grabbed her hand again. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" she asked, but following him willingly off the trolley.
"To get you something to eat."
He led her towards a little sandwich shop – somehow he didn't think Myrtie Mae's was quite her style – across the street.
She placed her order and he pulled his wallet out. "I got it," he told her as he ordered a drink and two of the hubcap sized chocolate chip cookies.
"That's okay," she said, opening her purse before sighing. "I left my wallet at the hotel."
He smiled at her. "Then I got it." He paid the cashier and took their drinks and cookies to one of the wrought iron tables in front of the little shop.
"We'll have to go back so I can get it," she told him.
"No problem. Eat up. Next stop. Back where we started."
"Whenever we make it back that way, I'll pick it up. And I'll pay you back," she promised.
"No need," he said. "I get to spend an afternoon with a beautiful woman. Lunch is the least I can do."
She blushed slightly, grateful when the lady brought her sandwich out. "Thank you," she said, including both the employee and Clark in her statement.
"So what brings you to Arkansas?" Clark asked her. "Are you from around here?"
She shook her head. "I'm from Metropolis. Molly was one of my roommates in college and she's doing an internship at that hotel. She invited me out for the weekend."
"So what do you think so far?"
Lois shrugged. "I flew in, caught a shuttle here, checked in, waited in the lobby, met a guy and here I am."
He laughed. "Well, I hope the Ozarks will leave a decent impression on you."
"We'll see. The verdict's still out." She smiled to take the sting out of the words.
Clark sat quietly while she ate her sandwich, both offering sporadic comments about assorted subjects.
She threw her wrapper in the trash. "Okay, Farmboy, make up some stuff about this place."
He laughed. "What makes you so sure I'm from a farm?"
"Work boots, jeans well-worn from actual work rather than coming that way from Abercrombie and Fitch, John Deere T-shirt with a flannel shirt over the top, from Smallville which isn't likely a bustling shipping community... Add it all up, you get a farm."
"Okay, you got me. I was raised on a farm."
They started to wander down the sidewalk. "Next stop, Farmboy?" she asked.
"That fudge shop the lady mentioned?"
She nodded. "That works."
He pointed. "And here comes the trolley. Red line. We can ride it back to the hotel, get your wallet, get back on and take it to the shop."
"We can't just get on going the other way?" she asked.
"The historic loop is one way," he told her. "I do know that much."
"Right."
They climbed on and a few minutes later were back in the lobby of the hotel. "I'll wait here," he said with a smile.
"You're not going to try to get into my room?" she asked with a raised brow.
"I can't imagine you being comfortable with that, so I'll wait here."
She gave him an appraising look. "Okay then. I'll be right back."
He wandered around looking at the art work in the lobby and she was back before he knew it.
"Okay, fudge shop, here we come."
They hurried back out to the street and just caught the trolley as it went by. The fudge shop was everything Molly had promised and Lois made arrangements to have her order delivered to her room at the hotel so she wouldn't have to carry it around.
"I need something sweet," she said as they exited the shop.
Clark laughed at her.
"What?"
"You do know where we just left, right?"
She glared at him and held out her hand. "Gimme my cookie."
"Yes, ma'am."
She glared again as she sat on one of the many benches along the sidewalk. "Gimme," she ordered again.
Clark sat down next to her and opened the bag. "Here you go," he said, handing her one of the large cookies and taking the other for himself.
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Lois nudged his shoulder with hers, nodding towards a young couple across the street. "Why are they here?"
"What?"
"Why are they here?" she repeated more insistently.
"How should I know?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't you ever people watch and make up stories?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "No, but apparently you do."
"Sometimes." She leaned closer to him. "So why are they here?"
He sighed, drawn into her game. "I bet she's pregnant and they're eloping."
"Eloping?"
He shrugged. "There's no waiting period in Arkansas."
"Oh. Right." A clip clop sound caught her attention. "They have carriage rides here?"
"Did you know anything about Eureka Springs before you showed up?"
"Nope. Not a thing except Molly works at a haunted hotel but the tours don't start till like eight at night."
"Well, it's a romantic getaway, mostly. Day shopping, that kind of thing. Many of the rooms are in bed and breakfast type places. A lot of those offer wedding packages, including elopements, some with carriage rides included."
"I've never been on a carriage ride," she said wistfully, breaking of a big piece of her cookie and eating it slowly. "They have them in one of the big parks near where I live, but it's such a touristy thing to do. And when you walk by where they all wait, it stinks."
"Then let me take you on your first carriage ride," he said.
"It's okay, really."
"Really. You have to go on at least on carriage ride in your life." He stood. "Let's go."
They both wrapped the cellophane around the rest of their cookies and put them back in the bag. Clark wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but he found Lois' hand nestled in his, their fingers laced together. He didn't remember the last time he'd held a girl's hand like that – probably Lana sometime during the three weeks they'd dated his senior year in high school.
They found one of the carriage ride stands and waited for the next carriage to show up. Clark pulled his wallet out and paid the stand operator as they waited.
Five minutes later, they were in a princess carriage being drawn by a dappled grey horse. They settled into the seat and Clark did something a bit daring for him – he put his arm around her shoulders.
"What about them?" Lois whispered, nodding towards an older couple holding hands as they walked down the street.
"Fiftieth wedding anniversary," Clark replied.
Lois shook her head. "No. I think they were high school sweethearts, broke up when he went off to war or something, both married someone else and then, once they were both widowed, met again and now are living out their twilight years together."
"You're a country music fan, aren't you?"
"What makes you say that?" Lois asked him, a slightly shocked look on her face.
"That's the whole premise of 'What Might Have Been' by Little Texas. Or Lonestar. One of the two. Or both. I think one did a remake, but you see my point."
She shrugged, in the process moving closer to him. "I may have been known to listen to a country song or two from time to time."
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I bet you even know how to line dance."
She turned red. "Molly was convinced that learning to line dance was a great way to meet guys."
"Was it?"
"Define guys," she said with a half-smile.
He took a deep breath and plunged on. "So we established earlier that I'm not married. Is there some guy back home waiting for you?"
She hesitated slightly before shaking her head. "No, there's not."
"You don't seem too sure."
She shrugged. "There's this guy at work that's really cute and I keep thinking might ask me out, but he hasn't and I don't know that he's going to. And, really, I've been too focused on my career to have time for a relationship."
Was that a subtle – or not so subtle – hint, Clark wondered. "What career is that?"
"I'm trying to make it in a man's world," she told him. "I'm great at what I do, but I have to work twice as hard to make the same impression. Except on my boss. He loves me, but if I'm going to earn the respect of my colleagues and peers other places..."
"Right."
She pointed towards another couple. "What about them?"
They were standing next to a car in front of one of the nearly ubiquitous bed and breakfast establishments, sharing a few kisses. It looked like she was crying and he didn't look happy either.
"I bet she wants to live in the big city and he's from a small town and neither can give it up so they're saying good-bye," Clark said.
"Either that or they're having an affair and have realized that his wife is suspicious and so they have to call it off."
"That's pretty cynical, isn't it?"
Lois shrugged, this time using the movement as cover to move away from him. "It's what guys do."
He brushed her shoulder lightly with his thumb. "Not all guys," he said softly.
"I'm not sure I buy that." She shifted farther away from him. "Daddy cheated on Mom all the time. It's why she's a drunk. Paul cheated on me with Linda. Even Ryan cheated on Molly. My sister's boyfriends cheat all the time. It's what guys do," she reiterated.
He reached over and took her hand in both of his. "I'm sorry that's what your life experience has taught you, but not all guys are like that. Are there any men in your life who haven't cheated on their wives or girlfriends?"
"Perry," she said suddenly. "Perry's never cheated on Alice, but he's the only one I can think of that I would swear has never cheated. Though she might call his job his mistress."
"Well, now you know two, then. I would *never* cheat on my girlfriend or, eventually, my wife."
"You've never cheated on a girlfriend?" she asked skeptically.
"Well, the last girlfriend I had only lasted three weeks and that was several years ago," he admitted. "But I was raised better than that. You don't cheat. Period."
"Even if you never meet that perfect person and you marry someone else who's good enough and *then* meet that perfect person, the person you should have ended up with in the first place?"
"Even if."
She sighed and pulled her hand away from his. "You're the last boy scout, Clark."
"That's better than being a pig," he told her with a smile as they pulled back into the carriage stand. He climbed down ahead of her and offered her a hand to help her down.
She hesitated before taking it. He rested his hands on her waist once she was on the ground.
"I wish you'd let me prove you wrong," he said quietly.
"About what?"
He hesitated, deciding not to say anything.
Instead, with his heart in his throat, he kissed her.
*****
TBC
Crescent Hotel - where Martha and Jonathan were Clark\'s room
