Missing Lois - TOC Author’s Note: I have altered the timeline of the show twice in this chapter. First, by extending the length of Lois’s murder trial (to months instead of days) and secondly, by moving Tempus’s John Doe Presidential election bid to its correct spot - after “Ghosts” and around the time of “Stop the Presses” (i.e. November 1996).
Story Notes: Just a reminder, Lois and Alt-Clark have told Alt-Sam Lane that she is really a Lois Lane from another dimension. She calls her Clark, Kal, to lessen the Clark-confusion. Everyone else in the alternate dimension (with the exception of Moonbeam/Star and now Mayson) thinks she is Lucy El (wife of Kal El), an old college friend of Alt-Clark's.
To refresh your memory for
Chapter 3: Part 4***
When we left off Lois was talking with alt-Sam about alt-Clark...Lois looked at him for a minute before answering. “Daddy, Clark isn’t a child. He’s a grown man.”
“Then how about you start treating him like one?” Sam patted her knee and went into the kitchen. A minute later he returned with half a roast beef with Swiss sandwich and a glass of juice. “I went out and bought it special for you after you called. I knew today would be a hard one for you.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” She took a sip of juice. “I wish there was something I could do to stop the train wreck before me from happening.”
“We can’t all be super heroes, Sweetie.”
“If anyone needed a superhero right about now it would be Clark…” She sighed. “…to save him from himself.”
Chapter 3 - One Step Forward, Two Steps Back - Part 5Sam insisted on accompanying Lois to the hospital and would not be persuaded otherwise. She found the waiting room to be deserted of most of its earlier inhabitants. Strangely, James and Perry were still there, discussing James’s notepad.
“Clark still in with Mayson?” Lois asked, walking up to them.
“Lucy!” James jumped to his feet and then noticed Sam standing behind her. He glanced between them. Perry just stood there with his jaw hanging open.
“Sorry, James. This is my doctor, Dr. Sam Lane. Sam, this is the owner of the
Daily Planet and our apartment building, Mr. James Olsen.”
The men nodded at one another and shook hands.
“And this is…”
“Perry, or I guess I should call you, Mayor White, now. Congratulations,” Sam said with his hand extended.
“Thanks, Sam,” Perry said shaking his hand. “It’s been a long time. What in the King’s name are you doing here?”
“We were worried about Clark,” Lois explained. “He seemed a bit down, when he dropped me off at home to get something to eat.”
Perry and James exchanged a full conversation in a glance. Perry finally broke the silence. “Clark’s already left, honey. James and I were just about to leave.”
“What? Already?” Lois fell into a chair and then turned to Sam. “We couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes behind him.”
“More like a half-hour, Lucy,” Sam corrected.
“I guess Mayson didn’t want him around,” said James.
“Mayson kicked him out? But she loves him.” She glanced between the men for a better explanation. “He needs her.”
“Apparently, he needed her more than she needed him.”
“No!” Lois shook her head. “That can’t be right. I expected him to break up with her for her own good. I warned her that it might…” Her eyes went wide with horror. “Oh, my God, what did I do?” Her head dropped into her hands. “I did this. I came down here to stop him from making a tragic error of judgment and it was already too late. She countered with a preemptive break-up. Oh, Clark, forgive me. Forgive me.”
Perry leaned over to James and Sam and asked out of the corner of his mouth, “Any idea what she just said?”
They shook their heads.
“Did he say where he was going? I’ve got to apologize.” Lois stood up.
“Away,” replied Perry.
“What do you mean ‘away’?” Lois stammered, tears filling her eye lashes. “Don’t be nice to me, Perry. Tell me the truth, even if it hurts.”
Perry wrapped his arm about her shoulders. “Honey, Clark needs some time alone right now. That old hound dog is down at Heartbreak Hotel.”
“It’s all my fault.”
“Don’t you be a-worrying. Clark will come back to you.” Perry walked them out of earshot of the others. “Lucy, honey. Did you know he confuses you with Lois?”
“Who? Clark? Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “I noticed that, too. I keep having to correct him.”
“That doesn’t worry you?” he asked.
Lois sighed. “Not really. He’s in love with her. I remind him of her. I’m used to it, now. It’s one of two major reasons we never would have made it as a couple.”
“Wait a gosh darn minute, here, Lucy,” Perry said stopping. “You knew he was in love with Lois, yet you didn’t want him to break up with Mayson?”
“Right.”
“Want to explain that one to this old timer?”
Lois linked her arm with his. “Mayson was his right-now hope. Lois is his future hope. How can Superman be a symbol of hope, when he doesn’t have any himself? Which is what he’s got at this moment: nada in the hope department. Plus, you don’t break up with a woman on the same day she barely survived a bomb blast. That’s just tacky. Even if it is for her own good.”
“I’ll have to agree with you there. But how did you know he was going to break up with her, almost before he did?”
“I wish I could call it psychic intuition.” Lois shook her head. “Because that what superheroes do. They try to distance themselves from those they love if danger comes knocking at their door. Clark didn’t want Mayson getting hurt because he’s Superman. So, he was going to break up with her.”
“Sounds like you have some experience in that department, honey,” said Perry. “He ever try that on you?”
“Of course…” Lois had forgotten where she was and to whom she was speaking. “Not. Of course not, Perry! Clark and I never dated. How could you ever think that?” She gave him a nasty glare. “We’re just friends. Always have been. Nothing more.”
“O-kay.” Perry nodded. “So, what was that other major reason you two never would have made it as a couple?”
“Why don’t you ask Clark that question the next time you see him?” Lois answered. She had stuck her foot in her mouth enough for one day.
“Did you say that Lois’s Daddy was your doctor? Is that wise?”
Lois looked at him with confusion. “Dr. Sam Lane is the best doctor I know; how would it be unwise?”
“OK.” Perry decided to switch gears. “What does Clark think about that?”
“Obviously, we’re not privy to each other’s private decisions, anymore,” Lois snapped.
“OK. OK.” Perry held up his hands. They had circled back to James and Sam by this point.
James asked in a soft voice. “Where did he go after he left to take his shower this morning?”
Lucy looked down at her clunky, ugly clogs. “I’m sorry. He asked that I not tell anyone.”
“How did you find him?”
Lois made a pattern on the carpet with the point of her shoe. “No one knows Clark Kent better than me,” she answered softly. “Better than he knows himself.”
“Lucy, Clark said that he’d call you when he can,” James told her.
“What is that supposed to mean? When he can?” She threw up her hands and shook her head.
“He’s taking a week of vacation.”
“What?” She dropped back into a chair. She reached out and took Sam’s hand. “But he’s my best friend. He can’t just leave without word.” She turned to Sam. “Can he?”
“Looks like he finally cut those apron strings.”
“But he needs me.” She looked at the three men for confirmation. “And I need him. What am I supposed to do for a whole week without Clark?”
“You’ll survive,” her father said with a hint of a smile.
“I better survive or I will kill him when he gets back.” She stood up and stomped out of the waiting room.
Perry turned to Sam Lane. “Are you sure that isn’t Lois?”
Sam cracked a smile. “She does have her fire, doesn’t she?”
***
Clark sat upon the tallest building in Metropolis. The sun was beginning to set. Pink, orange, and blue danced across the sky. It was really beautiful. He sighed. But he could not enjoy it. He felt empty inside. Wrapping his cape around himself, he wondered where he should go. He didn’t want to go back to his apartment. There were too many fresh memories of Mayson there. He knew that Lucy would hold him and comfort him, after she berated him for not listening to her.
But Clark did not feel like being comforted, pitied. He deserved to feel rotten. It was because he hadn’t been fast enough that Mayson had ended up in the hospital. Because he had been blinded by remorse and self-centeredness that he ended up going after the wrong man. Because he lost control of his temper that Jaxon had been able to guilt trip him into his virtual reality game. And because he had ended up in the VR game that he wasn’t there when Mayson got out of surgery, therefore making her feel that he cared less for her than he did for vengeance. It was his fault that Mayson no longer wanted him around. Personally, he didn’t blame her.
Mayson said that she loved him and that she knew that he cared for her, but that she needed someone who, when the chips were down, would put her first, before everything else in his life – including Superman – and she didn’t think that he could ever do that. She had thought for a few minutes that morning that maybe she could teach him to do that, but he proved to her without a shadow of a doubt that he could not. So, it was for the best if they did not continue their relationship, or deepen it, as they had discussed that morning, because then someone was truly going to get hurt and she was afraid it might be her.
Clark hadn’t fought her or tried to persuade her that he could change or to give him another chance. He hadn’t faulted her for wanting to break up with him. Jaxon had been right about one thing. He was a horrible boyfriend. So, he had simply kissed her and told her again that he was sorry. And that he wished things could be different. Then he left.
He had wanted to fly, fly, fly far away. His chest ached in a way it hadn’t ever ached before. And he wanted to catch Sean McCarthy and present him to Mayson with a giant red bow. The side of his mouth hinted upwards. He still wanted to do that.
Then there were Perry and Mr. Olsen to witness his heartache. He had tried to act like nothing was wrong, but he could never pull a fast one on Perry.
“You look like someone just punched you in the gut, Clark. Mayson not forgive you for disappearing on her?
He had nodded. “She told me that she needed some space from me for a while.”
“How long are you in the doghouse?”
He had sighed. “I believe her exact words were ‘as long as Superman still flies.’”
“Ouch,” winced Mr. Olsen.
“What a day,” Clark had said, wiping the hair off his brow. “What I need is a vacation, a one week vacation just to recover from this one day.”
“Take it. You deserve it,” Mr. Olsen had told him, generously. “Go and lie on the beach somewhere. Let the police earn their paychecks this week.”
Perry had double finger pointed at Mr. Olsen and said, “Don’t you knock my boys in blue, Jimmy; they work plenty hard.”
Then Clark had smacked himself in the head. “I can’t go. I can’t leave Lois...” He had then shaken his head at that blunder. “I mean, Lucy. She’d kill me and I don’t mean figuratively.”
“I was going to propose that you take her with you…” Perry had started to say.
“That’s a bad idea,” Mr. Olsen had interrupted.
Perry had glared at him for interrupting. “But then I was going to suggest some time alone might do our boy some good. Clear his head. Set his priorities in order.”
“We can keep an eye on her for you,” Mr. Olsen had volunteered.
“Of course, we will. She’ll be fine. Make her miss you for a while.”
“She misses Clark Kent enough as it is,” he had replied, thinking of Kal. She always called him her Kal patch. As long as he was around, she felt that her husband wasn’t so far away.
“Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
He had shaken his head. “Don’t I know it.”
Mr. Olsen had patted him on the back as if he had understood that Clark had been speaking of her fondness of someone else. Had Lois told him about Kal? That seemed unlikely.
“I’d better bolt. If I’m still here when Lucy shows up, she’ll start to mother hen me again and I’ll never escape. Thank you, Perry. Mr. Olsen.” He had shaken their hands and then he had left.
Superman had flown around the city for a while, stopped a mugging, rescued a kitten from a tree, and helped someone with car trouble, before he had ended up sitting up on top of the
Daily Planet, wondering where his life had gone so wrong and where he could go to forget about Metropolis for awhile.
Clark knew where he wanted to go -- he’d been dreaming about it for weeks -- but it was still Sunday. Tomorrow. He’d go tomorrow. Anyway, he wanted to have another discussion with Dr. Klein. He had figured out a solution to the blood sample problem. All that walking around in the VR world had given him plenty of time to think. He knew that Lois wouldn’t like it, so best not to tell her about it until afterwards. And there was still the problem of Sean McCarthy. He couldn’t let him just walk around free while Mayson was in the hospital. Bobby Bigmouth was the perfect place to start.
***
Later, just before nine the next morning, Superman caught Dr. Klein in the parking lot of S.T.A.R. Labs and told him about his idea. Dr. Klein loved the idea on a scientific level and hated it on a personal level.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dr. Klein asked.
“No, I don’t want to do this,” Superman replied. “But I want to get the answer to the question we discussed last week.”
“Oh, really? Have there been developments on that front?” Dr. Klein was interested.
Superman smiled, politely. “Let’s just say I was tempted to lose control in a way I had never been before. I’d like some answers, should it ever…” He paused, knowing full well temptation was no longer an option for him. “… come up again.”
“Oh. Answers. Do you expect anything will… come up in the near future?”
Superman shook his head with a sigh. “But I understand your tin can reference better this week than I did last week.”
“Tin cans?... Oh.” Dr. Klein patted him on the back. “Women have all the super powers when it comes to crushing a man’s heart. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“Well, we better run some tests then. So you have an answer, should it… arise another time.”
After they ran a battery of tests, Dr. Klein asked again. “Are you sure, Superman? We could figure out the answer without blood.”
“I want it to be a thorough exam. How much blood will you need to run tests?”
“If we get a couple of syringes full then we never have to do this again. I could keep the extra blood in the vault with the Kryptonite. Personally, I feel quite uncomfortable about your proposed method.”
“Line up the syringes in front me and I’ll draw the blood myself.”
“I saw the news reports, Superman. Will you be able to?”
Superman was unsure. “Will you assist me if I am unable?”
Dr. Klein nodded.
Clark changed out of his blue suit and into his workout clothes. He pulled off his tank top and Dr. Klein hooked up the heart rate, respiratory, and blood pressure monitors. Then Dr. Klein attached sensors to his temples and four areas of his chest and back. Dr. Klein set a medium sized metal box on the lab table and lined up five syringes in front of it.
“Again, Clark. We do not have to do this. If something were to happen…”
Clark shook his head. “No. This is important.” He stared a moment at the closed box. “If something unexpected were to happen…” He lowered his voice. “Tell Lucy that I’m sorry.”
“Lucy?”
“My research assistant.”
“Oh.”
Sorry hadn’t been enough of a message for Mayson. If he died, Lois would need more of a message. “And that I love her.”
“Oh!” Dr. Klein raised a brow. “Was she the one…”
“No!” Clark shook his head. “Our relationship is complicated.”
“OK.” Dr. Klein nodded.
“If something were to happen to me…” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Help her, if she comes to you.” He looked him directly in the eye. “Please.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dr. Klein asked again.
Clark stared at the box. Lois had told him that Kal had been exposed to Kryptonite on more than a couple of occasions, including once last Christmas when her father had used it to cure him of a raging virus. He had been shot with a Kryptonite bullet, kissed with lipstick infused with Kryptonite, sprayed with a Kryptonite gas, jumped through a Kryptonite force field and – thanks to Tempus -- surrounded by Kryptonite as a baby. It was the story she had told him about the time Kal being kidnapped by a strange invalid who wanted to steal his body for himself that had given Clark the idea for drawing blood. That crazy doctor had used Kryptonite to weaken Kal enough for surgery; if Kryptonite could weaken Kal enough for surgery, it should easily weaken Clark enough to draw blood. He took a deep breath.
“OK, Dr. Klein. Open the box.”
The brightness of the green rock hurt Clark’s eyes. He looked away and felt the tightness in his chest and the weakness in his knees. “How long, doctor?”
“Only fifteen seconds.”
Clark winced. Not enough time. The knives had started to pierce his body, he was sweating when he had never done so before. He tried to keep himself upright. He tried deep, calming breaths, but his throat was so sore. “Time.”
“Thirty seconds.”
Not enough time. One of the knives stabbed him through the gut, making him double over. He pulled himself upright again. He focused on Dr. Klein. “Try the first needle.” Clark lay out his arm and Dr. Klein tried to draw blood. The needle pricked his skin but then broke.
“We need more time, Clark. I’m sorry.” Dr. Klein set the broken needle next to the others. He then grabbed a stool for Clark to sit on. “I really think you should lie down.”
“Thank you,” he said, trying to control the shaking. “I’ll be fine.”
Finally, after two minutes they were able to get a needle into Clark’s arm and keep it there long enough to draw blood. Two vials of rich maroon good stuff. Clark had never felt so weak. Dr. Klein put a cotton ball over the needle and pulled it out. He then taped down the cotton ball with a band-aid.
Clark reached over with his free arm and closed the box. He felt better instantly. The ringing in his ears stopped and his eyes no longer hurt. But he felt weak, tired, exhausted like never before. Then again, he hadn’t slept. Dr. Klein unhooked the sensors from his body and then Clark fell to the floor. He pulled himself back up to the stool and sat down. The room seemed quieter than usual and he realized it was because he couldn’t hear the scientists in the other labs.
Then he heard something strange. It sounded like the soft cracking of glass. He looked over at the two vials of blood that had been drawn and he realized that the first vial was cracking. “Dr. Klein, do you have any metal vials?” he asked.
“Sure. Why?”
At that moment the first vial popped, like it had been holding pressurized gas that had been overfilled. It was enough of a pop to spray blood and glass fragments all over the table. Dr. Klein grabbed the second vial and quickly poured the contents into a larger metal vial, then capped it. Meanwhile, Clark blew his freezing breath over the spilled blood. He then was able to pick up the entirety of the blood at once.
“Do you have a microstrainer?” Clark asked.
Dr. Klein found one, handing it to him.
Clark reached up to lower his glasses only to remember that he no longer had glasses. He had broken them the previous morning when he had lost his temper. That was a problem; he couldn’t be Clark Kent without his glasses. What had happened to his spare pair? Oh, yeah, Lana had sat on them back in January. He had been too busy to replace them.
He focused on the bloodcycle. Nothing happened. Not good. Clark took a deep breath and tried again. Nothing. He sighed. Come on, body, you can do this, he told himself. He closed his eyes and thought of the hottest substance he could think of – lava. Opening his eyes, he focused again on the blood. A spark. A drip. Yes! It was working. Slowly, Clark melted the blood again and strained out the glass.
Then that metal vial was capped. Clark found a heat proof plate and poured onto it the glass fragments from the broken first vial, the second glass vial and the broken needles that hadn’t worked and the needle that had worked. Using his heat vision to heat up the metal and glass to melting point, he burned up whatever remnants of blood had been there.
“Did I get it all?” Clark asked looking around the lab table.
“I think so,” answered Dr. Klein, picking up the two metal vials of blood and the box of Kryptonite. “I’ll just return these to the vault.”
“And I’ll see you next week,” said Clark. “I’m heading out on vacation.”
“Sounds nice.” The scientist smiled.
Clark stumbled after him. “Maybe, I should take a few minutes to rest.”
“Lie down in my office, Clark. I wouldn’t want you flying in that condition. Plus, there is one more test we need to conduct to get the answer you seek.”
“Test? What kind of test?” Clark asked.
Dr. Klein raised his full arms. “Go lie down, Clark. We’ll discuss this when I return.”
When Clark opened his eyes, two hours had passed. He stretched and the band-aid with cotton ball burst off his arm. Catching it in mid-air, Clark smiled, and pocketed it. Just enough blood for Lois’s dad to make a comparison. He quickly changed back into the blue suit and entered Dr. Klein’s lab.
“Superman! You’re finally awake. Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“That’s all right, Dr. Klein. I had a long night and didn’t get any sleep. Thank you for the loan of your couch.”
“Anytime,” the researcher offered.
“You mentioned something about one last test for me, before I left,” Superman asked.
“Yes. Yes.” Klein put an arm around Superman and walked him back into the hall. “I have it set up for you at that room down at the end of the hall.”
“Ok.” Superman waited for further instructions.
“It’s pretty self explanatory.” Dr. Klein nodded, tapping him on the back.
“What is?” Superman asked. “What will I find in that room?”
“Magazines. And a cup.”
“And what kind of test is that, exactly?” Superman was confused again.
Dr. Klein pressed his lips together. “We’re miscommunicating again, aren’t we?”
Superman just looked at him and waited.
Dr. Klein lowered his voice. “I need to test your swimmers.”
“My?… Oh. Those swimmers.” He nodded, glancing between the room and Dr. Klein.
“Are you up for this?”
Superman swallowed, uncomfortably. “Of course.” And he walked down the hall. What he wouldn’t do for Lois Lane.
***
It was early afternoon by the time Clark finished at S.T.A.R. Labs. So much for his early start on his vacation. He only had one more stop, before heading on his way. He flew quickly past the
Daily Planet and saw Lois working at her desk. Good girl. He thought, she might have glanced up when he flew past, but he was just a blur outside. He blew open the windows of her apartment, scaring Sam, who was cutting carrot sticks in the kitchen.
“Clark Kent! You’re going to be the death of me one of these days,” Sam yelled, carrying the knife with him as he entered the living room. “I could have cut my thumb off. Next time, call first before you decide to blow in. Most civilized people knock.”
Superman stood there with his arms crossed and waited for Sam to stop yelling. “Are you done?”
“Yes.” Sam glared.
“I apologize. You are completely correct. I didn’t see you in the kitchen window when I flew past; I’ll remember my manners next time.”
“Thank you.” Sam stood there for a half a minute staring at him. “What do you want? Lucy’s at work.”
“I know. I don’t want her pity right now. I came to see you.”
“Me?” Sam’s expression softened, then became excited. “Do you have news on Lois?”
Superman shook his head. “But I do have something else you requested.” He held out the cotton ball.
Sam dropped the knife on the coffee table, took the cotton ball and examined it. “What the…? Clark, this has blood on it.”
“Yes.”
“Do I want to know whose blood it is?” Sam inquired, hesitantly.
“Mine.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “But you are… How? Are you ok? Should I call Lucy?”
“I am ok. Please, do not tell Lucy. It would only make her more anxious.”
“More? The woman is on pregnancy hormones overdrive. It took the three of us to calm her after you ditched her at the hospital yesterday.” Sam walked the cotton ball into the kitchen and returned with it in a plastic sandwich bag.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I care about Lucy a great deal, which is why I told her to stay home. I could not be around her after Mayson…” He took a deep breath. “I take it that you’ve heard.”
Sam nodded, sitting down on the sofa. “You left word with the head gossips of the
Daily Planet.”
Clark sighed, lifting up his cape and sitting down on the couch opposite Sam.
“Lucy thought you were going to break up with Mayson. That’s why she insisted on us going over there. She wanted to stop you.”
“I was going to break up with her, which is why it hurts so much that she rejected me first.”
“Run that by me again,” Sam asked.
“I have learned that I cannot handle the responsibility of loving someone as fragile as a human woman. Mayson drove me crazy in ways I had never felt before; I almost lost total control with her. With her I lost control of my logic, my brain, my ability to think clearly, and my body.”
“Clark.” Sam leaned forward. “That’s how women make men feel; why do you think we keep chasing after them? That feeling, that adrenaline rush, it’s like a drug. We keep wanting more and more.”
“I am not most men. I am not someone who should ever lose control.”
Sam shook his head with a sad smile. “You’re missing out on some of life’s most wonderful feelings.”
“Sam, when Mayson got hurt, I could no longer control my anger. My rage took over and I almost hurt an innocent man. And the guilt I feel over not being able to keep her from harm… I never want to feel this way again… it’s like someone stabbed my heart. It hurts -- physically hurts -- right here.” He tapped the center of his chest. “These are not wonderful emotions. I cannot allow myself to ever get close to another woman again; I am not strong enough to handle the consequences. I care too much for her to continue to date her, because if she or any other woman I cared about ever got hurt, really hurt, because of me…” He took a deep breath, unable to finish that thought.
“Clark, when Ellen – Lois’s mom -- and I were first dating, our car got rear-ended, just bumped really, but Ellen hit her head against her door. When I saw the blood, my vision went red. I got out of the car and punched the fellow in the nose for hurting the woman I loved. Physiologically, our bodies are made to protect the women we love and any possible offspring that they might be carrying. Some say that’s why our blood is red; like a bullfighter’s cape, it is to attract our attention to what’s important.”
Superman thought about this for a moment. “So, what you are saying is what I felt with Mayson was normal?”
“Perfectly normal.” Sam smiled.
“But I am not normal. I am not most men. I am someone who should never lose control in any way, shape or fashion.” Superman looked down and sighed. Then he looked at Sam. “If I punched a man in the nose for hurting Lois, I could quite easily kill him.”
“You meant Mayson?” Sam asked.
“Right. Of course. Mayson.” Superman stood up and moved closer to the window. “I’ve never even met my Lois.”
“Your Lois?
Your Lois?” Sam stood up, picked up the knife, and charged him. Superman easily stepped out of his way .
“Anyway, there is the blood sample to compare to Lucy’s. I’ll be on my way, now, Sam. See you in a week.” Superman grinned, dived out the living room window, and flew out of sight.
“Stay away from my daughter!” Sam yelled, shaking his fist. “You tights-wearing freak!”
***
Superman, a small valise in hand, landed into a group of trees just outside of Smallville. Clark emerged from the woods and started to hike into town. People were already bundled up for the fall. The corn had been picked and the autumn winds had started to blow. He took a deep breath. Nothing like fresh county air. It was nice to be home.
He walked into the Smallville County Bank. His parents, the Kents, had paid the mortgage on the farm every month like clockwork. It must have returned to the bank after they died. The bank manager would know who had bought it after it had foreclosed and who the current owners were. He stopped at the first desk.
The tall, thin, curly haired woman behind it glanced up and then jumped to her feet. “Clark? Clark Kent?” She held out her hand. “I don’t know if you remember me. Mitzi Gannor. Well, Mitzi Cummings, then. I was a sophomore when you were a senior. Probably not. Wow! What are you doing in town?”
So much for subtle. The bank had gone quiet and everyone was staring at him. He shook her hand. “Just visiting. Is Mr. Robertson still manager of the bank?”
“Oh, gosh, no, Clark. He retired some years back and took Mrs. Robertson to Florida.”
“Oh.” So much for easy.
“Mr. Wilkenson is bank manager, now.”
As Mitzi spoke these words, a plump balding grey haired man walked out of the glass enclosed office. He held out his hand. “Clark Kent! What an honor it is to have you back in Smallville. Josh Wilkenson. I knew your parents well.”
Clark shook his hand. “You did?”
“Sure did. I’m the one who helped Martha and Jonathan refinance their last loan. Would you like to come into my office?”
“That would be great.” He turned to Mitzi. “Thank you.”
“Oh, no. Thank you. Scott, my son, is going to be thrilled that you’re back in town.” She held up a photo of her son dressed as Superman.
Clark laughed. “Tell him I’m just visiting. And not to fly off any roofs.”
“Oh, no. He won’t do that again.” She nodded seriously.
He stared at her for a moment and then followed Mr. Wilkenson into his office.
Clark left the office a few minutes later. Mr. Wilkenson referred him to the Kent’s family attorney. He hadn’t known that his parents had a lawyer or had even drawn up wills. But then, again, they were very by-the-books sort of people; it only made sense that they had wills. He waved at Mitzi and headed back on to Main Street.
Word had spread that Clark Kent was back in town. People were coming to gawk at him from store windows. He guessed that old saying was true; that one really couldn’t go home again. He glanced down at the address in his hand and turned into a non-descript door that lead to an upstairs office of Richard Colborgh, Esquire. He knocked on the glass door and heard a bit of shuffling inside.
A tall, thin, elderly, casually dressed man came to the door and smiled. “Clark Kent, at last,” he said ushering him into the room. The office itself was also a non-descript, stereotypical lawyer’s office with a wooden desk and bookshelves of law books. “I was wondering if I was going to have some young whippersnapper from the city hunt you down before I retired. But now you’re here.” He smiled.
“Mr. Colborgh, I presume,” Clark asked, shaking his hand.
“Sorry, yes. Everyone knows who you are. People must forget to introduce themselves all the time.”
Clark nodded. “Mr. Wilkenson from the bank said that you might know who the current owner of the old Kent farm is.”
“Of course. Of course. The lands were sold off after your folks passed. Sad. Sad day.” Mr. Colborgh shook his head as he sat down at his desk. “All with the exception of the house and the five acres surrounding it.”
Clark leaned forward. “Excuse me?”
“The house and those surrounding acres were put into trust with the little money that was collected from the life insurance policies the Kents purchased nine years earlier.” Mr. Colborgh reached into a cabinet behind him and removed a file.
“My parents had life insurance policies?” This surprised Clark. They had never told him. Nobody had told him.
“Small ones. With the money earned from the sale of the lands and those policies, the trust was able to pay off the bank and own the house and those surrounding acres free and clear. The remaining funds were used to pay the taxes on the land these past twenty years.” He opened the file.
“Wow.” His parents were more forward thinking than he had ever known. “Who was the beneficiary of the trust?”
Mr. Colborgh smiled. “Why, you are, of course.” He placed his finger on a paper in the file and adjusted his reading glasses. “
‘All proceeds of the estate will be held in the Kent Family Trust until Clark Kent reaches the age of eighteen, at which time, the property and funds in said trust will pass to him.’ Been waiting quite a long time for you to come and sign all the necessary paperwork, my boy.”
“Me? My parents left me the house?” Clark fell against the back of his seat. “I never knew. No one ever told me. I thought they left me with nothing, penniless.” He looked up at the lawyer, who seemed to be getting a nasty look on his face.
“Those foster care social workers! I told them about the trust. They were supposed to tell you.” The man came slowly around the desk and patted him gently on the arm. “I’m sorry, Clark. I thought you had been informed about your parents’ will. But when you left town after graduation, I figured you weren’t interested in settling down in Smallville. I continued to care for the trust in case you ever changed your mind.” He smiled. “And here you are. Here you are. Glad you came, now, Clark. Don’t know if I could have held off retirement any longer. The wife, you know.”
“The house is mine? I have a home?” He was still in shock. His parents had thought about him, took care for his future. He had thought that they couldn’t afford to make such plans, poor farmers that they were. And the life insurance policies had been purchased nine years before their deaths, right after they found him. His heart swelled with love. So deep was he in his thoughts, he almost forgot to listen to the lawyer.
“I go out and check on the place from time to time. Abandoned houses are popular with the teenage rock-throwing crowd. I’ve had to replace a few windows over the years. But other than that the house is pretty much the same as when you moved out. The furniture is still there, although it could use some cleaning.”
Clark smiled. “I can handle that. Any chance I can get the phone and power turned on this week?”
“Already on, my boy,” Mr. Colborgh said walking back to his side of the desk. “Had to turn it on back in the spring, when you came out of the closet, so to speak. Needed to add an alarm system. Hope you don’t mind.” He looked in the file and flipped a few pages. He took a piece of note paper and jotted down some information. “We’ve had a few more gawkers in town since your big news hit the papers. Even some idiot who wanted to buy the old house and turn it into a museum. Your folks wouldn’t have liked that.” He passed the note paper to Clark. “Here’s the phone number; unlisted, of course. Oh, wait,” He pulled the paper back and wrote another number on it. “And the pass code for the alarm. I used your mother’s birth date; feel free to change it to something a little more private. The alarm password, should the alarm company call, is Lana Lang. Figured nobody would think you’d use that name after you two broke up in the spring.”
Clark looked at the paper in his hand and reached over to shake Mr. Colborgh’s hand again. “Thank you, Mr. Colborgh. You don’t know how much this means to me. To have a place of my own.”
“Technically, it’s still owned by the trust, but I’ll start filing the proper paperwork and if you come back…” He thought for a moment. “Wednesday, I’ll have it ready for you to sign.”
“I’ll be here.” Clark grinned. “You have gone over and beyond the call of duty, Mr. Colborgh. Thank you. If I can ever assist you with anything, anything at all, please, feel free to contact me.”
Mr. Colborgh seemed a little taken aback by this offer. “It’s nothing, Clark. Just doing my job. Your parents deserved no less.”
Clark picked up his bag and headed for the door.
“Clark?”
He turned back to see the old man holding up a set of keys. “You might need these.”
“Thank you, Mr. Colborgh. See you Wednesday.”
Clark grinned and pocketed the keys. He wanted nothing more than to jump into the air and fly straight to his home. Home, he sighed; he liked the sound of that. But first he needed to stop by the store and pick up some groceries and cleaning supplies. Plus, probably best if he wasn’t seen flying around town.
As he stepped back onto Main Street, he happened to glance across the street at Smallville Optical. He smiled. Things were definitely starting to look up. He jogged across the street and was easily able to procure a same-day appointment with the optometrist. As he waited for the doctor, he wandered around the store looking at the different frames. Maybe it was time for a change. He wondered what Lois would think when he returned home with a new look. He grinned. She would hate it.
***
CommentsChapter 3: Part 6
