Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found
Here Part 49 Part 50Lois pressed a damp washcloth to Clark’s eyebrow. “Oh, stop being such a baby, Chuck. It’s just a scratch,” she told him.
“A scratch I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t let go of that branch, flinging it in my face,” he retorted.
“I thought you had it,” she lied, hiding a small satisfied smile. “I told you to stay here.”
Their reconnaissance visit to the Irig farm hadn’t told them much, except that the EPA people were out and about in hazmat suits, even at night, so they hadn’t ventured too close. They hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary, and there had been no sign of Mr. Irig either. The tents, and mounds of dirt moved by the bulldozers, now surrounded the Irig house, making it impossible to sneak inside the same way Thomas had gone the day before. The three of them had come back to the Kent house via the woods, and that was where Clark had earned his souvenir.
Clark reached up and scratched his neck, and not for the first time. She slapped his hand away. “Stop it,
Jerome,” she scolded, using his pathetic undercover name. “You’re only making it worse.”
“I can’t help it. They itch,” he said, his tired voice to the point of whining.
“Of course they itch, they’re mosquito bites. You’d think you’d be used to them by now, having grown up in Smallville and all,” Lois said, thankful Martha had lent her the repellent while she and Thomas had waited for Clark to change.
Clark’s shoulders seemed to slump. “They’ve always left me alone before,” he murmured, and his eyes closed as if his whole body ached. “When my folks died, I was shipped off to Wichita, because no one in Smallville would take me in.” His voice sounded soft and low as if this memory of rejection still stung.
Lois sat down on the bed next to him, and placed the bandage over his still bleeding brow. “Even the Kents?” she whispered. They were in her bedroom, but one couldn’t be too cautious.
Clark looked away and didn’t answer. She took that as a ‘yes’.
His lie about his name was beginning to make more sense. She was beginning to think that it wasn’t only to
her he had been lying. Still, she knew there was something else he wasn’t telling her. Why else would Clark Kent have no past history?
“Why do you love this town so much, again?” she asked, setting her hand on his.
He shrugged. “It’s the closest place to a home that I have.”
Lois thought about his apartment back in Metropolis, and how it had hardly any personal touches. “Who are the Kents to you? How are you related?”
“It’s hard to explain,” he murmured, his thumb moving back and forth across the back of her hand.
“Try.”
“Officially, you’re as related to them as I am. I was a foundling, remember. My folks took me in, loved me, and cared for me as if I was their own, but I wasn’t. I don’t have any real relatives of my own,” Clark said quietly. “The only family I have are those who accept me, and love me by choice.”
“And the Kents didn’t do that? Why?” Lois pressed.
His eyes closed, but he neither looked at her nor responded.
“So, what you’re telling me is that you came back here, pretending to be this Jerome person, to try to find out why they didn’t take you in? And you found out that Jonathan had broken his back in an accident last year, and despite everything, you felt that they were still your family, and you would help them out however you could?” she guessed.
She never would have done that. She would have waved good-riddance to this town and the extended family whom had rejected her, but Clark wasn’t like her in that respect. Of course, a part of her would have always wondered why? The curiosity must have driven him back. That theory made more sense with the man she knew.
Clark still wasn’t looking at her, only at her hand holding his.
“Clark?” Lois whispered, nudging him slightly.
“Hmmmm?”
“Is that right?” she probed, refusing to take his non-answer as affirmation this time.
He shrugged. His thumb moved back and forth across the back of her hand again. “Your skin feels different.”
Lois rolled her eyes and pulled her hand out of his. “Clark!”
“Yeah, sure. That works,” he said with a yawn.
“Clark,” she growled with annoyance.
Finally, he raised his eyes to hers. His glasses had a crack in them over the nose bridge and wouldn’t hold together much longer, but he still insisted on wearing them. He must be blind without them. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Lois.”
“Why don’t you start with the truth?” she snapped, slugging him in the arm.
Clark clutched his arm and his brow furrowed as he rubbed his now tender muscle. Then his hand went to his neck, where he scratched a bit more, before he gingerly touched his new bandage. “Frankly, Lois, I doubt you’d believe the truth right now, so what would be the point?”
Lois stared at him in disbelief. Was he kidding? What was wrong with him? He wasn’t acting like the Clark Kent she had gotten to know over the past few months. It was like he had lost something vital and he no longer knew how to act.
“I thought you were different,” she said.
He scoffed at that. “Usually, I’m as different as they come,” he mumbled as if it were a joke that only he understood. “You’re disappointed in me, I can see that. It’s okay, Lois, I understand. Trust me,
that’s a look I know, and I know it well.” He stood up and patted her shoulder.
“Clark…” She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t, but she was.
“Okay, I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes, and I’m going to continue to make them,” Clark went on. “I’m never going to be the man that you want with all of your heart. I knew that coming in, that this man…” He tapped himself on the chest. “— isn’t who you want, but this is the person you’re stuck with. I can’t be more than who I am, I can only be me. I hoped that I could be enough for you as you were more than enough for me.”
Lois didn’t understand where his anger was coming from. Who was he comparing himself to? Superman? Because that was a losing battle, always would be.
“I know you see big holes, where there should be answers, and trust me, I feel like there are parts of me that are missing too. I know that you need a whole man, and that’s not who I am at the moment, but I’m trying my best,” he said, his voice wavering. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t do this right now; I’m going to bed.”
Lois grabbed his wrist as he reached for the door, and he looked at her with hope she did not share, and dashed to pieces with her words. “Do what? Tell me the truth? Or lie to me some more?”
He simply said, “Argue.”
“Fine,” she spat out. “Just tell me one thing: who are you?”
“You know
who I am, Lois. I’m still the same man, who was there for you when Allie died, who held your hand when you were shot, and with whom you laughed last Sunday while reading the paper. I am the man who loves you. Whatever name I go by, that much never changes,” Clark said, and then sighed at her skeptical expression. “But that’s not what you want to hear, is it?”
Lois shook her head. He was giving her emotions, and what she needed was facts. Something that she could grab hold of, something provable.
“Clark Jerome Kent,” he replied. “I hate the fact that my behavior over the past five months means nothing to you.” He turned and walked out the door.
“Hold it a minute there, bub,” Lois said, following him into the hall and dragging him back into her bedroom. “Don’t you lay this at my door. You’re the one withholding information. That man, who I thought you were,
he isn’t here.
He wouldn’t have lied to my face.”
“I wish I could tell you everything about my life, that I could be open and honest with you right now about where I’ve been, who I’ve met, and what I’ve done, but I can’t. First of all, this isn’t the time or place for that. Secondly, you’re going have to face the fact that there’s stuff about me that you will probably never know. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to answer all your questions. I’m not going to lie to you about that,” Clark said, lifting up his hand and caressing her cheek. “And, thirdly, I’m about to pass out on my feet. So, unless you’re offering me a place to sleep…”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not leaving here until you give me some answers.”
“Thanks, Lois,” he said, laying face down on the bed and kicking off his sneakers. “We can finish this discussion in the morning.” He cradled a pillow so that he hugged it to his chest and closed his eyes.
“Clark!” Lois crossed her arms. “Get up!”
His eyes fluttered open, and seeing her serious face, he pushed himself to a sitting position at the edge of the bed with the pillow in his lap.
“Why did you have to tell the Kents that we’re married?” she hissed.
“I panicked,” Clark said with a small sheepish smile. “I couldn’t think of another reason why we’d be arriving together, and I panicked. I was afraid they would figure out who I really was, and that scared me.” He shook his head.
Finally, something that sounded like the truth.
Lois sat down next to him once more. She wondered if she should tell him that the Kents already knew and accepted him as Clark Kent? No, she decided. He hadn’t yet earned that disclosure. Plus, she didn’t want him to panic again. “Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on when you figured out where we were headed? We could have come up with a plan together. A better plan.”
“I don’t know,” Clark mumbled. “I kept hoping that this was a nightmare, that something would happen to stop the intersection of the two parts of my life I had never thought would meet. Then, suddenly, here we were, and I watched as everything I built up for myself collapse into a huge heap.”
“Okay, Clark. We’re sitting in the lot at rental car agency in Topeka, and I’ve just told you about Wayne Irig and that we’re headed to the Kent Farm to help. Now you have several hours to tell me what’s going on. What do you say?”
His eyes widened and he ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know,” he sputtered, starting to look panicked again. Why was the truth all of a sudden so scary?
Lois ground her teeth together, and she felt like punching him. Instead she took his hand again, trying to calm him. “The truth, Clark.”
He looked at their joined hands, and seemed to find strength there. “The Kents are the closest thing to family that I have, only they don’t know that. They think I’m some kind of wandering farmhand by the name of Jerome who helps them out every once and a while,” he rambled off.
“Would you have told me that if I hadn’t discovered the lies on my own?” she asked.
“Yes, of course, maybe someday…”
“
Maybe?”
“I wanted to, Lois, I still do,” Clark said in his reassuring tone, but he continued to look at their hands. “I want to tell you everything...” His gaze shifted to the floor. “— if you can ever trust me again.”
“How can I trust you if you’re being less than honest with me?” Lois replied. “Why must I be the first one to extend the hand of trust?”
Clark raised his gaze from the floor to her eyes. “Because I’m afraid that if I tell you everything without your love, I’ll lose you forever.”
She noticed that this argument was no longer about trust, but about love. He needed her to love him so much that she would blindly jump off lovers’ leap with him, and hope that he would save them. She reached up and touched his bandage. Only Clark wasn’t Superman. He couldn’t whisk them off to safety after such a leap of trust.
Could she trust Clark like she had once trusted Superman? Could she allow herself to jump blindly for love like she did for stories? Was Clark a man she wanted to risk everything for? Should she risk her heart to a man who admitted to keeping things from her? She closed her eyes and let her hand fall. “Maybe you already have.”
Clark nodded. “And that’s why I can’t tell you everything,” he replied, picking up his valise and exiting the bedroom.
***
Clark awoke on the couch the next morning with a pain in his back from his uncomfortable night’s sleep. He didn’t feel well rested in the least, which sat in his mouth like foul-tasting foreboding. He knew it was more the argument between him and Lois from the night before than the couch or his continued lack of powers that had caused his ill-night’s sleep.
He sat up and rubbed his face, trying to find something positive about his current condition. At least no one saw him float in his sleep. Whoop-de-dah.
“’Morning, late sleeper.” Jonathan said, rolling into the living room. He picked up Clark’s glasses from the side table next to the couch. “I’ve got some black electrical tape that’ll fix these right up. How are you feeling this morning?
“The same,” Clark mumbled.
Worse. “I’m taking that to mean you aren’t back to normal?”
Clark glanced around and shook his head.
“Don’t worry, they’re all in the barn feeding the animals, milking the cow, and gathering eggs,” Jonathan answered Clark’s unasked question.
“Even Lois?” Clark asked in surprise.
“She was up before dawn, making phone calls, time change and all. I’ve never seen anyone kiss a fax machine before.” Jonathan chuckled. “I gave her the ‘everyone helps’ speech yesterday, so she volunteered to feed the chickens, but knowing Martha, she’ll probably have Lois gathering eggs, too.”
Clark stood up and tried to stretch the kink out of his back. “I best get out there to help,” he decided.
Jonathan patted his shoulder. “Best get showered and changed. You’re on K.P. duty with me. Do you think you’ll need that shave, son?”
Clark ran a hand over his jaw, trying not to show how much that little endearment meant to him. “No, thank you, sir,” he replied, clearing his throat, wishing he had the guts to jokingly call him ‘Dad’. “I’m running behind as it is, and it’s not like anyone will be kissing me.”
Jonathan rolled towards the kitchen with Clark’s glasses in his lap. “Martha might. She’s got a soft spot for you. I’ll get these fixed up and right back to you, unless you have a spare pair.”
“Not with me,” Clark told him. He had his ‘Charlie’ pair back at his apartment, but it wasn’t like he could fly back and retrieve them.
“Do you need these to see? Shall I fix ‘em up before you shower?” Jonathan asked.
“No, they’re more there so I
don’t see,” he said with a scoffing chuckle. “Not likely going to have that trouble today though.” He looked in the direction of the barn and he couldn’t even see through to the next room. “And so others don’t see me, especially Lois.” He followed Jonathan into the kitchen, and, therefore, he didn’t miss the man’s shocked expression.
“Martha and I were wondering if she knew and was a darn good actress or…” Jonathan said, his voice fading with the other unspoken option. He opened a drawer with miscellaneous items in it.
“I doubt I’d be on the couch if she knew,” Clark grumbled as another tendril of jealousy for his missing alter-ego rose. It had reared its ugly head again yesterday at her sigh from the Tahiti article. She still preferred the Man of Steel, not cut, scraped, and mosquito-bitten Clark Kent. Then he remembered her tears the last time Superman and Lois had really talked. “Or permanently there.”
Jonathan glanced back at him with a raised brow.
Clark flushed. “It’s a long story.”
“Don’t you think that’s something your wife should be appraised of, son, especially in light of the recent developments? If you can’t be honest with the woman you love…” Jonathan shook his head and handed Clark back his glasses with taped bridge. “It’s none of my business. Sorry.”
“Thanks,” Clark said, slipping his glasses back on, and feeling not nearly as exposed. He felt embarrassed that he still hadn’t confessed his and Lois’s true relationship status, whatever that might be, to the Kents. “It’s more for her protection that I haven’t told her. If it ever got out about me, the people after me would come after her.”
“All the more reason she should know,” Jonathan rebutted. “I just know if I kept something like that secret from Martha…” He whistled, and then tossed up his hands. “But that’s my marriage, not yours.”
“I appreciate the advice, all the same, Jonathan. With Lois, I could use all the help I can get,” Clark replied, before seeing the clock on the stove. “Is that the time? Yikes, they’ll be back from the barn soon. I best hit the showers.” He hurried out of the kitchen and jogged up the stairs, wishing he had his super speed to help him move more quickly.
*
“Lois?” the voice on the other end of her cell phone called to her again. “You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry, Jimmy,” Lois replied vaguely. Her mind was still on the conversation she had just overheard in the kitchen.
“I’ve got that EPA Clean-Up list you asked for. Smallville’s not on it. You want me to send it to that fax number you gave me earlier?” Jimmy went on.
“Please, do. Got to go. Bye,” she said, hanging up on him.
With all the extra hands it took them less time to do the morning chores, so when Jimmy called Lois’s cell phone, spooking the cow who then almost tipped over the milk in Thomas’s bucket, Martha had sent her back to the house to take the call and help the guys with breakfast.
Lois had only caught the tail end of Clark and Jonathan’s conversation. Something about how Clark wasn’t telling her about some guys who were after him. She replayed last night’s weird argument again in her head. Yep, it fit. Clark was on the run, hence his lack of identity, or more accurately, his multiple identities. Somehow Jonathan knew about it. The question was: who was the real Clark Kent?
Was it a local crime? Maybe. She just couldn’t picture by-the-book, law ‘n’ order guy, Clark Kent, as an ex-criminal though. It didn’t make sense.
Maybe he had witnessed a crime, and he was hiding out from the bad guys as Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter, like those musicians who witnessed the Valentine’s Day Murders in
Some Like It Hot. He couldn’t risk telling her because if the mob guys found him from her digging around – because, face it, she
would be investigating this – they would be after her, too. It would also explain Wayne Irig’s strange abduction by EPA agents.
In a way it was romantic and yet totally believable, except for one flaw. Why would the mob be in Smallville?
She dropped her head into her hand. Why couldn’t Clark be straight with her? Why couldn’t she fall for a normal guy? First Superman, now this one.
Superman! Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? She’d ask Superman about Clark’s past. Surely he wouldn’t have chosen Clark at random to be the man to protect the woman that he loved, right? Okay, as soon as they were back in Metropolis, she’d talk to Superman about Clark.
Until then, Lois would see what she could find out about Clark in Smallville, his supposed hometown. Somebody must know about him, or his folks, who died when he was ten. Let’s see, 1966… so in 1976. She’d tell Clark they were checking on the EPA people’s story via the county pesticide records for the Irig Farm.
***
Clark didn’t want to get out of the car at the Irig Farm. Understandable if he was on the run from the undercover mob types, but Lois wasn’t going to allow any partner of hers to run scared.
“I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” he told her.
Lois felt Clark’s forehead. It didn’t seem as hot as it had the night before, despite him dragging his feet more than average. “You feel normal to me,” she said, patting his shoulder as she stepped out of the car. “Let’s go!”
“That’s because I
am normal,” he countered. This guy didn’t know how to toot his own horn.
“So, everything’s okay, right?”
“Everything’s okay,” he reassured her.
“So, get a move on, Norm,” she called from the blockade separating the Irig Farm from the driveway.
“Very funny, Lois. How come you get to call me whatever you like, and I’m not allowed one little nickname?”
Lois shot him back an ‘oh, please’ expression. She wasn’t the type endearments stuck to. “Because I’m better at it. ‘Blueberry Muffin’?” she said, through pressed lips as the EPA’s spokesperson approached.
“Sorry! Off limits to the public,” the woman told Lois.
“We’re not the public; we’re the press. Lois Lane and Clark Kent from the Daily Planet,” Lois replied, not feeling the need to use Clark’s alias with the EPA. The woman probably wasn’t a local who had heard of him. Lois figured she had guessed right from the woman’s reaction to Clark’s name, which was nada.
“Carol Sherman, EPA Field Liaison. What interests the Daily Planet in our little project?” Ms. Sherman asked.
“Well, that’s why we’re called the ‘Daily Planet.’ We cover the world,” Clark said, speaking up for the first time. It was nice to hear the smart-aleck back again.
“Plus, Smallville,” Lois tagged on.
“Well, what you see here is an Ecological Risk Assessment. The owner used a lot of pesticides back in the 1960s, and we’re worried about seepage into the local groundwater,” Ms. Sherman explained, pointing over her shoulder at the workers.
“People getting more than they bargained on at the dinner table?” Lois said with skepticism.
“That’s it. Public safety. No big story, I’m afraid,” Ms. Sherman replied.
“I’ve got a paper here that says your ‘little project’ isn’t on the EPA’s Clean-Up list,” Lois said, pulling out the paper Jimmy had faxed over while they ate breakfast. “And we’d like to speak with the property owner.”
Ms. Sherman looked at Lois’s paper and then handed it back. “You want to match paperwork? Fine. Here’s our certificate granting access to EPA Superfund status,” she said, flipping to the next page on her clipboard. “This is the property rights waiver.” She turned another page. “This is our authorization from Smallville City Hall.” Another page. “And
this is the updated list of what you have. See, there’s Smallville, right there,” she said, pointing to Smallville on the paper.
Lois looked up at Clark.
“She’s right, Lois,” he said.
“May I take a look at that?” Lois asked Ms. Sherman, and the woman handed over her clipboard.
“It always takes Washington about six weeks to figure out what the people in the field are up to,” Ms. Sherman said with crossed arms. “Mr. Irig was given relocation money during the testing. He didn’t say where he went.”
“Where’s he going to go? If you haven’t heard, the Smallville Corn Festival is on and rooms have been booked up for months,” Lois countered.
Ms. Sherman took back her clipboard and looked as if she wanted to hit Lois over the head with it. “The government has pull,” she spat back.
That was a different story than the one Thomas had given them. Had that man imagined the whole kidnapping scenario? He seemed like good kid, but then she remembered him going on and on about a new action movie he had seen recently about secret government conspiracies while they were on their hike the night before.
“I’m sure you have that information somewhere. We’ll check back,” Lois said snidely, tugging on Clark’s sleeve. The whole time she had argued with Ms. EPA here, her partner hadn’t done more than stare at the tent village and fiddled with his glasses. “Come on, Clark. Let’s go look for Mr. Irig at the
two hotels in town. He must be there under an alias because he certainly isn’t there under his own name.” She said this loud enough for Ms. Sherman to overhear her.
“You already checked the motels?” he asked, impressed.
“I couldn’t sleep past six, Metropolis time, unlike other people,” she said, climbing back into the car. “If we find Mr. Irig at one of these motels, pigging out on junk food and watching HBO…” she grumbled.
“He wouldn’t do that without informing Thomas,” Clark reminded her, buckling himself in next to her. He spoke softly enough that Ms. Sherman couldn’t hear him.
Lois smiled. “Thomas is our ace in the hole. For some reason Ms. EPA doesn’t know about him. I’d like to keep it that way for now.”
“I agree.”
***
Lois slowly drove the sedan through the clogged Main Street of Smallville. Someone pulled out of a spot near the village green and she pulled in.
“Uh, Lois? What are we doing here?” Clark asked, almost as if he was on edge. Good.
“Well, we’ve checked City Hall’s records, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary with any of Wayne Irig’s permits. We double checked the area motels; nobody’s seen him. Let’s check out the festival. Maybe he’s here, or if he’s been around town, someone may have seen him. It’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everybody,” Lois said, and stepped out of the car.
“What about checking back at the Irig Farm?” Clark suggested.
“Don’t worry, Smallville. We’ll head back there after we’ve done our due diligence. We’ve got to let those mosquitoes get nice and hungry before we head back.”
Clark scowled at her, and scratched at his neck again. “How come they left you alone?” he asked suspiciously.
Lois grinned. “I guess you’re sweeter.”
“Impossible, sweet thing, you were the one full of Double Fudge Crunch bars,” he retorted.
“I don’t accept sarcastic endearments,” Lois said, and stopped at a booth selling dresses. She stared at a brown dress with small pink and white flowers. She could just picture putting on such a dress, and hanging out with Clark. If they could just forget all this lying business, they could eat some hot dogs, and maybe a caramel apple, do some country line dancing, and perhaps Clark could even win her a stuffed bear by ringing the bell with the strong man hammer.
“What?” he asked.
Lois shook off of this reverie. “I was just thinking what we
could be doing if you hadn’t lied to me.”
Clark threw his hands up in aggravation. “I swear, Lois, nobody can hold a grudge like you.”
“Ha!” Lois retorted, pointing at him. “The day you swear will be the first day of the apocalypse.”
“Wrong kind of swearing, Lois. I’m sure before too long, after hanging out with you, I’ll be swearing up a blue streak though,” he grumbled.
She took one last look at the brown dress and sighed. It had been a nice fantasy. She could picture herself falling for Clark again on a date like that. She turned back to see him a few paces further along, staring at a pretty, blonde woman.
The woman held an infant, and was laughing, as she called out to two towheaded devils running around her ankles. A husky, brown haired farmer type with a mustache, decked out in the whole cowboy hat, flannel shirt, and jeans ensemble that seemed to be required dress code around town, came up and kissed the woman with affection. He received a glowing smile in return, especially when he scooped up the two boys, one on each arm, and carried them off to the kiddy games.
“Clark?” Lois asked softly, setting her hand on his arm. “Do you know them?”
“No,” he replied curtly, turning away. “She reminds me of someone I used to know.”
She could see the repressed tears in his eyes. “What is it, Clark?”
“Jerome,” he reminded her. He started to walk off in a different direction, away from the woman, but Lois’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“It’s not ‘nothing’, Clark,” she whispered, low enough only for him to hear.
He cupped her jaw in his palm. “Have you ever felt the world would be a better place if only you hadn’t been born?” he asked.
Lois couldn’t believe him. “
You lied to me,
Jer…” she growled.
“No, Lois,” he interrupted gently. “The world would be better without
me.”
Her jaw dropped. She totally hadn’t gotten that from what he had said. “Don’t be ridiculous, Smallville. You’ve stopped me from killing Ralph twice this month alone, not to mention you’re the reason Jimmy and I survived Dr. Baines’s death trap at the Messenger hanger. I may be angry at you, but I’m glad you were born.”
His sorrowful gaze turned to the loving one she was used to seeing there.
As he leaned in to kiss her, she stepped away, pointing at him. “Still mad, here, Chuck.”
He nodded once with understanding. “If you change your mind about that, I’m going to be over at the corn husking contest,” he told her and started wandering off.
Lois looked over at the blonde woman with the baby, and taking the bull by the horns, approached her. “Hi, I’m Lois Lane, Daily Planet, in town checking up on that EPA clean-up over on the Irig Farm. Could you just tell me if the name ‘Clark Kent’ means anything to you?”
The blonde woman shook her head. “No, the Kents never had any kids, and they’re the only Kents I know.”
“You look to be about my age. Smallville High, Class of…?”
“’84,” the woman answered.
Bingo! That was too much of a coincidence. Clark
must know her. Lois pointed at his departing backside. “Do you know that man I was just talking to?” she asked.
The blonde woman smiled. “He’s a hotty, that’s for sure. I would’ve remembered him if he had gone to Smallville High.” She shook her head. “Sorry, he doesn’t look familiar.”
“How about the name ‘Jerome’?” Lois asked.
The woman shifted the infant to her other arm. “Nope. What does this have to do with Mr. Irig and the EPA clean-up?” Her gaze narrowed. “Did someone tell you that I used to date Walt, because that was eons ago.” The woman’s mustached husband returned and wrapped an arm around her. “I dumped him for Hank here and never looked back.”
“Walt?” Lois repeated. She had no idea who Walt was.
The man’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”
“She’s with the Daily Planet, and she’s asking me about Walt,” the woman snapped, losing her demeanor of friendliness.
“No, no,” Lois said, holding up her hands. “Not Walt. The Irigs.”
The woman looked at her like she was nuts, and pointed in the direction that Clark had gone off. “Why? Is that Thomas?” She squinted her eyes. “Could be Thomas? Hank, you were best buds with Walt Irig. Is that guy little Tommy Irig?”
Lois turned and stared at Clark, now half way across the green from them and standing and watching a bunch of men pulling the husks off corn.
Walt Irig? Who in the hell was Walt Irig?
Clark glanced up as if he felt her gaze on him, and saw them all looking over at him. He turned and started marching back over to them. Crapola! She could almost see the steam coming out of his ears, he was so mad.
“Nah. Last time I saw Tommy Irig he was still a twig and taller, I think, Lana. That guy couldn’t be him,” Hank was saying.
“Who is Walt Irig?” Lois asked, turning away from Clark’s approaching storm.
Lana and Hank exchanged a look, before he spoke, “Walt
was Wayne Irig’s oldest son. He died on prom night. According to Sheriff Max Harris, it happened right after he raped the sheriff’s twin sister Rachel Harris.”
***End of Part 50*** Part 51 Now, you didn't expect us to come all the way to Smallville without having Clark run into Lana, did you?
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Some Like it Hot was a film directed by Billy Wilder, starring Jack Lemon, Tony Curtis, and Marilyn Monroe.
