Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark (This will be referred to by its nickname in the subject/header line "Wrong Clark").
Book 2 – Wrong TrilogyBy VirginiaR.
Rated: PG-13 (language and vague sexual references).
Description: Alt-Clark goes to a Clark-less dimension to woo a new Lois and to be this new dimension’s Superman. Clark doesn’t know that this is an alt-canon-dimension, and he’s stepping into canon Clark’s shoes from his first appearance in Metropolis in May 1993. This is Book 2 of my Wrong Trilogy. While it is recommended to read Book 1 first, it is not required. Book 1 being
Another Dimension, Another Time, Another Lois[/i] .
[i]Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found
Here **********
Prologue**********
**********
Goodbye**********
Metropolis – March 1997Clark knelt beside her grave. He came here often just to talk to her, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.
Since meeting and falling in love with Lois Lane – that Lois Lane who was tossed into his dimension by Tempus – he realized that there could be no Superman without her… some version of her. Sure, he could rescue people, stop the bad guys, and breathe in and out, but without a Lois Lane he felt empty inside, unable to truly live. Without a Lois, there was only this façade; there was no Clark Kent, no one who truly understood him. Without her love and support, he didn’t know how long he could keep up this life.
It troubled him that he was being selfish, that he would change this new Lois’ destiny because he needed her, that she wouldn’t get a choice in the matter… Not that she would choose the alternative.
True, he rescued people every day without this being a dilemma. He had even saved that other Lois before without this being a problem. This time it felt different. His motivation felt different. Even though he knew he was saving her so that her current fate would change, he was also saving her in hope that she then would save him from heartache. That was the selfish part.
If she knew why he was rescuing her, would she resent him? Would she think that he felt she owed him something? Would he ever be able to convince her that he would be happy just having her in the world? Breathing in. Breathing out. Knowing she was safe, hopefully happy. He would not expect anything nor should he. He would love her. He didn’t require that she return his love.
Actually, it would probably be better for her if she didn’t. Friendship would be nice though, having her available to talk with, to laugh at his jokes, pathetic as they might be, to challenge him. With Lois Lane in his world – or in this case, him in her world – he would be a better man… a better Superman.
Clark heard a sound behind him. Without turning his head from where it rested against Lois’ tombstone, above her empty grave, he knew H. G. Wells had arrived to take him on his journey.
“Are you sure about this, Clark?” H. G. Wells asked him and not for the first time.
“We’ve been over this, Herb. Lois needs me. Without my interfer… help, she won’t survive.” And without her neither would he. “I promised I would save her.”
“Lois is dead, Clark,” Wells reminded him. “The decision is yours and yours alone.”
Clark sighed.
“I know this was my idea, but now… I’m not sure,” Wells went on. “I hate leaving any dimension without a Superman.”
Clark nodded. He hated that too. “Isn’t that why you suggested this in the first place? So her world wouldn’t be without a Superman? If it doesn’t work, I can always return. At least, this new Lois will have a second chance at life.”
“I’ll come back in three months, Clark, in case you decide to return home.”
Clark took one last long look at the gravestone. He would miss her –
his Lois. He didn’t
want to leave her, but the other Lois
needed him. He closed his eyes and pictured her in his mind.
I will always love you, he told her, reassured her… reassured himself. He would never – could never forget her. This woman he had never met, never saved.
He stood up and picked up his suitcase. He glanced around this ‘world.’ He would miss this dimension. It was so different from the one where he was going. This was home. He sighed. “Let’s go,” he told H. G. Wells.
Clark was taking a huge risk. If this other Lois discovered his secret, she would have the power to destroy him. Unlike any bad guy he had met, this woman had that power over him. Should she choose to be, Lois could be more deadly to him than Kryptonite.
*****
Part 1*****
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New Dimension, New Time, New Clark**********************************
Metropolis of this new dimension – May 1993Clark took his suitcase off of the time machine and turned back to H. G. Wells. “Thanks, Herb, for giving me this opportunity.”
H. G. Wells pressed his lips together as he held his hands behind his back. “If there had been another way to save her…” He let his voice fade off. “She’s
not your Lois. Remember that, Clark. This might not work.”
They both knew that wasn’t true. Clark knew if she was anything like the Lois who had made him into Superman, he wouldn’t have any trouble falling in love with her. Not that she would be. This was a different dimension. This was a different Lois than the one he met. This Lois hadn’t made him Superman. This was even a different time. Wells had suggested that Clark recreate the time of his original arrival to the Daily Planet. Only this time, she would be there.
Everything else would be up to him.
Had Clark arrived into Metropolis a free man – no Lana Lang, hovering girlfriend – would the simple everyday, ordinary man be able to catch the heart of Lois Lane, ace investigative reporter at the Daily Planet? That other Clark from that other dimension had been able to, so Clark figured he could too.
That did not mean he had left Superman or the blue Suit back in his home dimension. He knew that part of him was too ingrained in who he was now to give it up completely, but
he would be in charge of picking where and when he made his new debut. This time, he would make sure there was no revelation of his secret identity. He was looking forward to being a superhero and Joe Regular whenever and wherever he chose. He was more than ready to give up his full-time celebrity status.
“You have the gold?” H. G. Wells asked.
Clark nodded, patting his pocket. They had decided that he’d bring enough money with him in the form of gold to get himself situated in this new dimension. They had also decided to drop him off a few days earlier than his initial arrival to Metropolis. This was a different dimension, and he needed to familiarize himself with its history and culture. Elvis had died in the other Lois’ dimension, and in his the man had been president; therefore, after renting a temporary room, research was the first order of the day.
“I’ll return in three months, Clark,” suggested Wells again. “If this experiment of ours is a failure, I don’t want you stuck here.”
Clark nodded, more out of politeness than agreement. If the Lois in this dimension was alive, he saw no reason in going home. This dimension was just as in need of a superhero as his dimension. He didn’t like the sense of failure that leaving his home dimension and his Lois gave him, but he knew he could not continue to live the way he had been living. A hopeless Superman was no one’s hero. Anyway, Wells had told him that the Lois in this dimension would surely die without his help. Not today, or tomorrow, or this year even, but soon enough.
Of course, the guilt he felt for leaving his Lois, without rescuing her from death, would never fade.
Wells had convinced him though, they didn’t know what consequences might occur if Clark saved his Lois from getting lost in the Congo. There would never have been a reason for Tempus to bring that Lois to his dimension to make him Superman. If they hadn’t met, would he have become Superman on his own or with the help of his Lois? Clark decided that he could easily live without becoming the Man in Blue, not without the helping people, just without the Suit. Yet, he knew he would regret it if his selfish actions caused a ripple effect of him – or his Superman – not being available to save that Lois married to that other Clark when Tempus took over their country as John Doe. He still loved her too much to ever chance causing her pain, and at the same time, be rewarded with his own happiness. Also, Clark was too proud of his accomplishments to risk erasing those events from history. He couldn’t save his Lois at the cost of another.
So, Wells had suggested this holiday, of sorts, from his own dimension. He would help out the Lois from this new dimension that the time-traveler had discovered, where there was no Clark Kent. No Superman meant that no one here would know about his alter-ego, hence the vacation analogy. He would also get a chance to safely woo a Lois Lane as himself, not some celebrity hero. Clark wouldn’t be stealing this dimension’s Lois from this dimension’s Clark, because this dimension’s Kal-El had died when his spaceship had crashed to Earth.
If Clark was able to win this new Lois’ heart, he would be free and clear to love her without fear that someday the rightful Clark from this dimension would show up and call
foul!
True, he admitted to himself with one last wave to H. G. Wells before the time machine disappeared, that choosing a dimension where nobody knew he was Superman and where there was a living breathing Lois Lane in it, could also be considered selfish. He had never claimed to be perfect nor would he.
Clark found a gold dealer and exchanged some of his gold for cash. He had staked a claim before he left his dimension. He had filed the claim under Lois’ name, so nobody would know it had actually been him. He could picture what the Metropolis Star headline would have read:
Superman Cheats Landowner Out of Fortune in Gold.
Well, actually the Superman Foundation had purchased the land. Clark Kent had no personal money anymore. He sighed with a shake of his head. Another facet of what his life had become.
He had walked sixteen blocks before he had come across this gold dealer. Sixteen of the most wonderful blocks he had walked down in the last year. Not only were these streets cleaner, the air fresher, and there were fewer guns in the hands of ordinary citizens, not one person asked to have their photo taken with him. Not one person asked for an autograph. No one asked for help or even for directions. Not one person stopped him. It was pure unadulterated bliss. There were a few people who had hurled insults at him, but not because he was a strange visitor from another planet. He had been pleased to hear himself called ‘jerk’, ‘tourist’, ‘hick’, and ‘goody-goody two shoes’ – the last for depositing a rare piece of trash he had found on the ground in a garbage can.
Clark was in love with this dimension before he even walked into the Hotel Apollo to rent a room. He could afford a better room in a real hotel, but he didn’t want to waste his funds. He didn’t need the extravagance of a nice hotel room. He just needed a kitchen, a bath, and a bed. Plus, he liked the symmetry of starting out where he had originally stayed when he had first arrived in Metropolis – his Metropolis. He smiled, Lana had hated this place.
It felt like he was being given a second chance at his life.
The only valuables he currently had were his blue Suit, which he kept on because he hated to leave it unattended in the room, his cash, and what was left of his gold. In his dimension, the safest bank with the best security was the National Bank of New Troy, so using his ID and social security number from his home dimension, a tactical error he hoped wouldn’t come back to bite him on his behind, he opened checking and savings accounts, and rented a safety deposit box.
In the privacy of the little room for people adding items to their safety deposit boxes, he changed out of the one and only blue Suit that he had brought with him. He shut it and the rest of his gold into the box. Then he did the most difficult and freeing thing he had done all day: Clark handed the box to the attendant and watched him lock it in the vault and return his key. He almost stopped the man.
What if this dimension
needed him – Superman him – tonight, this weekend, while the bank was closed? He wouldn’t be able to access the Suit. That had been the main reason for locking it up. He had wanted to spend his first weekend in his new dimension as Clark Kent and just Clark Kent. It had been so long since he had been able to do that. This dimension, he reminded himself, had survived this long without anyone interfering, he was sure it could last a few more days. Anyway, he needed a vacation and a chance to acclimatize to his new home.
That was another reason for checking into the Hotel Apollo, as opposed to a real hotel. Here there was less access to news: no television and not even a radio. If there was a real, natural disaster type emergency, he was sure to
hear about it anyway.
To celebrate his new life and freedom in his dimension – after another walk across town to familiarize himself with his new city and check out what was different and what was the same – Clark took himself out to dinner to his favorite
local Mexican restaurant. Clark Kent didn’t fly, not this weekend at least.
Afterwards, he treated himself to a movie, one not available in his dimension. He needed to become acquainted with every facet of this dimension, so why not in some way enjoyable? Walking back to his room, it still thrilled him to no end to walk the streets unaccosted – he bought a copy of the evening edition of all the papers at a newsstand that he passed for some light reading before he slept.
Clark sat down on the bed and unfolded the Daily Planet. He didn’t even have to open the paper to find her byline:
Million Dollar Car Theft Ring Exposed.She had gone undercover on the docks? As a man? A hint of a smile brushed Clark’s lips. Those must be some blind longshoremen if they couldn’t see a beautiful woman in their mix. He looked at her undercover photo that accompanied the article. Either that or she was that good. Still, they must have been blind.
Clark ran his thumb over her name:
Lois Lane. He couldn’t believe he was here. The bare light bulb above his bed flickered. He floated up and lightly tapped it until it was more secure and stopped blinking. Then he floated back down to his bed.
This was either the best or worst decision of his life, and he had three months to figure out which.
***
Though the weather had been perfect for flying, Clark spent all day Saturday inside the Metropolis Public Library doing research. He started with history and quickly discovered an interesting anomaly that he would bring to H. G. Wells’ attention when next they met.
This dimension and his dimension shared the same history until roughly the mid-1800s, at which time something changed and the two dimensions’ histories diverged. Should he ever get bored – and Clark chuckled at
that ever being a possibility – he would try to pinpoint the exact year, if not date, the two dimensions’ paths changed and the cause. He was sure Wells, with his love of history, would be intrigued.
Whatever the cause, Clark was thankful for the shared timeline. It meant that he only needed to concentrate on the last one hundred and fifty years – relatively modern history.
The civil war between the North and South had been shorter and less bloody here than in his dimension. They had only lost the one President – Lincoln. In his dimension, both Lincoln and his Vice-President Johnson had been assassinated. The war had moved out of the South up through Pennsylvania. There had even been some skirmishes in Gotham City, though thankfully, Metropolis and New York City had been spared.
World War Two had also been worse in his dimension, with it starting in the 1930s – at least America’s involvement – when New Orleans and Houston had been hit from a hidden joint German and Spanish airbase in South America, which had brought that continent and the continental USA directly into the war as well. Yet, because of that, America had been better prepared in 1941 when Pearl Harbor had been hit, insomuch that his country had been able to retaliate sooner and thus, brought the end of the war earlier than in this dimension, thereby forestalling the need for the D-Day invasion of Normandy that had killed so many soldiers. As he thought over the details of the two wars again, maybe the war hadn’t been bloodier in his dimension. He had only thought so because of the increase of civilian casualties in his adopted country, but in total lives lost... He sighed. No dimension was a victor.
The 1940s were mostly about the War here, while in his dimension the 40’s were more like this dimension’s 1950’s. Ending the war in 1942, without the use of that A-bomb, meant that communism didn’t gain as strong a foothold in his dimension. Peace had been a staple, whereas here, there had been that ‘conflict’ in Korea and that ‘conflict’ in Vietnam, neither of which occurred in his dimension. He rolled his eyes at the use of the word ‘conflict’. His father had taught him that any event that required a young man to die for his country better give him the respect of calling it a ‘war.’ His dad’s favorite uncle, Jerome, had died in World War Two.
The social unrest of the 1960’s had actually happened during World War Two in his dimension with the integration of the troops. The ‘hippy movement’ was equivalent to the ‘back to nature’ or ‘ReEarth’ movement his parents had been involved in, which included a resurgence of organic farming, something which hadn’t really taken hold of here in this dimension. The folk music which accompanied the ‘ReEarth’ movement was less antiwar based and more pro-nature based. It certainly hadn’t knocked Elvis’s rock music out of the mainstream.
No ‘conflicts’ meant Elvis hadn’t been drafted and exposed to drugs. Well, he had still been exposed to drugs – it was rock-n-roll, after all – but according to Perry, the Colonel had been there to rid him of the influence before it had taken a foothold in the man’s life. Clark guessed that was why Elvis went to Vegas in the late 1960’s, early 70’s here, while back home he had used his popularity to run for governor of Tennessee and, from there, the White House in the 80’s.
Like in that other dimension – where Lois and that other Clark were blissfully married – this dimension’s Elvis had died of a drug overdose in 1977. Poor Perry. That event must have been very hard on him. It still seemed odd to think of there never having been a President Presley. Clark shook this thought out of his head.
Actually his new dimension seemed to have more in common with that other dimension than his home dimension did. This realization hit him as he started reading old editions of the
Daily Planet. Not only was Elvis dead, Charlton Heston was still known more for his
Soylent Green than his politics. And Lex Luthor was everywhere. By the time Clark had broken for lunch, he had made it through 1980’s on microfiche and was wishing to read something to do with invention, innovation, or industry where that man’s name wasn’t mentioned for his contribution.
True, Clark admitted reluctantly over his sandwich – the only item on the menu that
wasn’t deep fried – Luthor had given much to charity, but it seemed to Clark that philanthropy shouldn’t be rewarded with naming rights. Such practices had been outlawed in his dimension. To have a building or bridge or other structure named after oneself, the person whose name being used had to have been dead for at least five years, just like with stamps. There was no Luthor Conservatory of Music where the Metropolitan Orchestra performed. The Metropolis Opera House sounded much better to him. In his dimension, there never would have been a Lex Luthor wing of the Metropolis University Library or a Luthor Hospital and not even a Luthor Exhibit at the Metropolis Museum of Art.
Only businesses one owned could have one’s name on them, but Luthor had gone overboard on that as well: such as Luthor News Network, LexLabs, and LexTel. Clark hoped he wouldn’t be required to write any articles about the man, he thought sourly. He disliked him already.
That thought reminded him that he was going to need a recommendation from his journalism professor back at Kansas State. Clark had needed it to get his foot in the door when he got his initial interview with Perry at the Daily Planet back home, so he figured he was going to need it again. He should have called the man on Friday, not that Professor Carlton would know him from Adam, since technically it was this man’s double, back in his home dimension, with whom Clark had studied. Hopefully, personality wise, the two men were also similar: an ego so big that he wouldn’t deny knowing or remembering him, especially if Clark laid on some flattery, all true, of course – for his counterpart in his home dimension at least. Clark sighed. He didn’t like all the little white lies that came with moving here.
After lunch, Clark finished up his review of modern history and started to focus in depth on learning about the last five years. He needed to know everything: arts, movies, music, politics, of course, from local to national and international, current events, television, books, gossip, and fashion trends – luckily fashion was the same at the moment.
His hand froze on the microfiche machine. It was only a blip of an article – nothing really. Page three, two columns, written by Lois Lane.
Guns in Local Gang Wars from the Congo.Suddenly, Clark couldn’t do this anymore. He needed fresh air, because he couldn’t breathe.
This Lois had been to the Congo.
This Lois had written about the gun running in the Congo.
This Lois made it home again, unscathed.
Clark pushed open the doors to the library. He could feel the sunshine on his face; he could feel the breeze cross his skin, but he still couldn’t breathe. He started walking. Unlike the day before, or even at lunch an hour earlier, he couldn’t look the people he passed in the eye.
Finally, he reached an alley. He reached to his neck and remembered that he wasn’t in a suit and tie but in jeans and a t-shirt. The blue Suit was locked in the bank vault. He gulped. He couldn’t wait until Monday. He needed to get out of the city. He needed fresh air and sunshine. He needed to fly.
Clark scanned the alley. Clear. Moments later he was hovering over the city, heading for the country. He landed at his favorite spot in Kansas a minute later.
It was on the far corner of his parents’ land, and part of his heart leapt at the knowledge that it was the same in this dimension. A small clearing he had discovered shortly before his parents’ death. He liked the wild flowers that grew there. He liked that it was surrounded by trees, and no one could see him there unless they were within the meadow themselves.
Normally, he would lie down and just soak up the rays. Not today. Clark drew his knees up to his chest, allowing his grief and guilt to overcome him.
This Lois had survived, just like the other Clark’s Lois. Why hadn’t he questioned her about it when he had the chance? Why had he abandoned his Lois to death instead of saving her and bringing her to his future? He knew the answer and his guilt doubled. He had selfishly known that, because he had no secret identity to hide behind, he and his Lois could never have a relationship like the one the other Lois and Clark had, the one he desperately wanted and craved.
Selfish! He admonished himself again. He hadn’t wanted her walking, talking, being in Metropolis – tempting him to want a life he could not have. The thought of saving her, only to have someone come after her, hurt her or kill her because he loved her had finally pushed him to his final decision. He knew he would never survive her dying on him twice.
Clark closed his eyes in a wince, allowing the tears to fall; the same tears he had promised himself never to let fall again after making this decision. He knew it was a choice from which he never would ever fully recover, a choice for which he would never be able to forgive himself.
Eventually, the tears stopped, and Clark let the suns healing rays fill him with hope. He had made his choice. He had a mission. Wallowing in what could never be wasn’t going to save this dimension’s Lois from dying. Actually, Wells hadn’t been very clear on what would happen to
this Lois. He had said something vague and reassuring about her soul not being able to live without him – well, without her Clark. He shrugged. It wasn’t good to know too much about one’s future, Wells had reminded him.
Clark stood up and was about to take off into the air when he heard a familiar heartbeat; one he never thought he would hear again.
“This is the edge of our property, Wayne, just on the other side of this small woods,” his mother said.
“I know, Martha. I probably know it better than you,” Wayne Irig said without humor, without teasing, but that was who Mr. Irig was, a serious man.
Clark slunk into the shadows of the trees surrounding the meadow. They were still far enough away that they wouldn’t see him.
“I can lease the lands from you…” Mr. Irig continued.
“Wayne, Jonathan isn’t going to ever be able to farm these lands again. The doctors told us that much. And it’s not like we have a child to pass the land on to. Frankly, we could use the money. If you’re serious about buying the land for Thomas…” her voice faded, the implication implicit in her words.
Sell the farm?Thomas was Mr. Irig’s youngest son. He was about five years younger than Clark. He had trailed after his big brother Walt and Clark sometimes when they had played as children.
“I’m not sure if he’s serious about farming,” Mr. Irig admitted. “Especially since his mother passed.” His voice cracked.
Barbara’s fight with cancer had been a tough one on all of the Irigs – the boys and their father, Clark remembered. Mr. Irig wasn’t exactly the loving father as Jonathan Kent was, and Mrs. Irig’s death had left a huge hole in the family.
“And Walt…”
Walt?
What had happened to Walt Irig? thought Clark. He and Walt hadn’t been the best of friends – out of grade school – but they had played football together at Smallville High.
Clark x-rayed through the trees and saw his mother rest her hand on Mr. Irig’s arm.
“I just can’t lose another son, Martha,” Mr. Irig said, breaking down in a manner Clark had never seen the man do before, even after his wife had passed. “Barbara never recovered.”
What? Clark’s mind was completely lost. Mrs. Irig had died during his senior year of high school. Mr. Irig’s words implied that she had died of something else, something to do with Walt.
“Thomas loves you, Wayne,” Martha reassured him.
“Thank you, Martha, but I’m afraid his decision to give up on his own dreams is out of fear of leaving me alone.”
Fear? Own dreams? Thomas Irig had dreams? Staying with his dad was a lot harder work, but being a farmer on his own lands would beat out being a video store clerk in Wichita – as Thomas Irig had done in his dimension.
“Fear?” Martha echoed Clark’s thoughts.
“After what happened to Jonathan…”
“Ah.” His mother nodded.
Terror gripped Clark anew. What had happened to his dad in this dimension? Doctors? Selling the land? He never thought that he would ever run into his folks in this dimension with him living in Metropolis. Actually, he hadn’t given a second thought to them still being alive here.
Martha Kent and Wayne Irig turned away along the property line. Clark took this opportunity, since they had their backs to him, to propel himself into the air and over to the farmhouse.
He saw a couple of men working on the front porch, adding a ramp. He scanned inside the house and saw his dad lying in bed – not upstairs in their bedroom, but in what had once been his father’s study. Next to the bed was a wheelchair; Clark’s heart wrenched in pain.
How could fate be so cruel? Steal his folks too soon and cripple this Jonathan Kent? Had the Clark of this dimension survived, would
he have been able to stop whatever accident had befallen his father? Somehow, in some way, Clark would figure out how to help these people, if for no other reason than to thank his own folks for loving him for ten years when they could have easily dumped this strange foundling into foster care. It wasn’t their fault that baby Kal-El had never become their son.
As this matter settled in his mind, Clark turned towards Metropolis, bolstered by the knowledge that he wouldn’t only be helping this dimension’s Lois Lane but also his folks – or the people who would have been his folks – if his spaceship had landed here.
A deep aching pull inside him stopped him from moving onwards towards Missouri. Hovering in the clouds for cover, Clark gazed back down at the men working on the front porch. He really should do something to help the Kents now. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, he landed behind the barn and walked up to the house.
The men looked up at his approach. “Can we help you?” one of them asked. Clark didn’t recognize him, but then again, he hadn’t spent much time in Smallville since graduating from high school.
“What’s the new ramp for?” Clark inquired, nodding at the porch.
“Mr. Kent’s wheelchair. He fell off the ladder while painting the barn. He’s lucky to be alive,” the second man said when the first didn’t answer. “It happened last October during that warm spell we had after the Corn Festival. He only just got home last month.”
Clark winced in pain. If only he had come months earlier, perhaps he could have done something. “Is he all right?” he asked.
“You know Mr. and Mrs. Kent?” the first man asked.
He cleared his throat and wiped his nose with his arm. “A bit,” he admitted. “I’m… um…” …their son from another dimension. Clark took a deep breath. No, he couldn’t say that. “I’ve helped on the farm from time to time, when I’m in the area. Mrs. Kent’s a good cook and she and Mr. Kent, well, sometimes would give me meal and let me sleep in the barn in exchange for me helping ‘em out. They’re good people.”
His folks had used to do that with some of the migratory farmhands that came through Smallville. They were usually decent people, who just didn’t want to be tied down anywhere for some reason, his mom explained to him once. ‘Everyone needs a helping hand, son,’ his father had told him. ‘If they’re willing to work, we should be willing to give them a place to sleep and a good meal.’
The men nodded, agreeing that Kents were good people.
“He can’t walk. Doc says it’s permanent,” replied the second man to Clark’s earlier question.
“I hate it when bad things happen to good people,” Clark said, trying not to let too much emotion filter into his words. He failed. He sniffed and wiped his nose with his arm again, wishing he had a handkerchief, but since he rarely cried and never sneezed, it seemed pointless to carry one. “Do you mind if I help with the ramp?”
The two men exchanged a conversation with their eyes. “Sure. I can’t pay you anything,” said the first man, clearly the man in charge. “Maybe Mrs. Kent can give you some dinner.”
“That’s okay, I wouldn’t want to bother her; she’s got enough on her plate right now. Anyway, I’m not looking for a handout. I just want to help,” Clark replied, truth ringing from his words. “You know, return the favor.”
“I’m Bob. This here’s Jeff,” the first man said, holding out his hand. Jeff nodded and waved.
“Jerome,” Clark told them, shaking Bob’s hand.
“There’s some boards on some sawhorses around the corner of the house, Jerome. They need to be sanded smooth of splinters for the new handrail. Do you think you could do that?” Bob asked.
“Yeah,” Clark replied with a nod. He remembered passing by them on his way to the front of the house. He picked up some sandpaper from a pile of supplies and began rubbing down the boards. A tune his father used to hum while he worked came into Clark’s head and he started to whistle it.
It felt good to stretch his muscles doing physical labor, farm labor, again. It felt like he had finally come home.
***End of Part 1*** Part 2 Comments
