From Part 38 ...
The spacecraft came to a smooth, easy stop on a patch of green grass.
Kal pushed open the canopy. He stepped out and turned to offer his hand to Lois. He helped her from the capsule, then stretched his achy muscles.
He turned slowly, seeing the flourishing trees and the lush grass. He breathed in and the air rippled through his lungs. It was as if every sensor in his body had been tuned to receive at amplified efficiency. Yet the overall effect was numbing. He felt so much, yet felt so little.
To the north, past a few trees, was a road. Beyond that, more fields.
That was the direction.
He had to go that way.
A voice called him. The voice that was his inner knowledge – the voice that had guided him for so long on New Krypton. It was strong here.
And it was calling him.
“This way,” he said to Lois. “We have to go this way.”
“Do you recognise this?”
“Not here,” Kal said, pointing to his head. “But here.” He pointed to his heart.
His steps quickened as his feet obeyed the call to his heart.
The call home.
Part 39
Martha Kent pulled her jacket tighter and stifled a shiver as she stood on her porch, searching through the twilight dimness.
Searching as she had searched every evening for so many years.
Every evening since the horror of waking to her son’s empty bed.
There were no longer tears to blur her view. Every possible tear had been shed. She was dry. Dry on the inside. Dry from yearning. Dry from hoping. Dry from grieving. Dry from imagining. Dry from not knowing.
Dry.
As only a childless mother can be dry.
She could still see the empty bed – sheets ruffled, pillow askew.
She had known immediately that something was wrong. Every morning, Clark made his bed as his feet touched the floor. Probably before his feet touched the floor. Even on the days he knew she intended to wash the sheets, he made his bed.
But not that morning.
Her son had gone – as mysteriously and as unexpectedly as he had come.
Leaving her with a hollowness that couldn’t be filled – even by Jonathan’s unwavering support and understanding.
Leaving her with questions that gnawed a labyrinth of grief through her heart.
In the distant field, there was movement. Martha straightened, her eyes flitting as she tried to glean detail. There were two figures ... running ... running towards her. “Jonathan,” she called.
Martha heard his footsteps come from the house, but didn’t take her eyes from the two figures. “What is it, honey?” Jonathan said, his voice as always, like a massage for her soul. His hand rested on her shoulder.
She pointed. “There are two people in the field,” she said.
Jonathan stepped forward to stand at her side. “Must be a breakdown ... strange they would leave the road.”
“They’re running,” Martha said. “It must be something important.”
“I’ll go and see what I can do to help,” Jonathan said.
Martha slipped her hand into his big paw. “I’ll come too.”
He hesitated and Martha knew he was going to suggest she stay in the warmth.
She spoke before he did. “Come on,” she said. “At the very least we can invite them in for a warm drink.”
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The further Kal went, the stronger his compulsion became.
He had to keep going.
He didn’t know why. He didn’t know where. He didn’t know how far. Or even how he would know when he got there.
But there was something inside him that could not be denied. Something driving him forward.
Then he saw them.
A couple. A man, a woman ... large man, small woman ... hand in hand ... walking hurriedly towards them.
Kal’s heart stopped.
His eyes fixed.
His knees crumbled.
His insides swirled.
His mind froze.
They continued coming towards him.
A word formed on his lips. “M ...” His tears crawled up his throat, clogging it. “M ...”
The couple stopped.
Stared at him.
Then Kal heard a cry.
A cry so full of longing, it squeezed his heart. “Clark!”
He ran forward, his pounding feet drumming to the beat of his pounding heart.
The distance between them evaporated and Kal swept the woman into his arms. He held her close as violent sobs racked her petite body. Her arms locked around his waist with a fierce strength that far transcended her size. When he inhaled, he was filled with aromas he could not have named, but he didn’t need names to know they smelled of nurture and belonging and acceptance.
The arms of the man drew the three of them into a tight cluster.
Kal lifted his head from the woman and looked into the overflowing eyes of the man. “Dad,” he whispered.
The man’s mouth moved, but no sound emerged.
It didn’t matter. Their eyes connected and nothing more was needed.
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Martha clasped the strong, lean body of her boy, praying she wasn’t dreaming, praying that if she were, she would be granted time before wakefulness shattered the miracle of her son.
He held her with raw desperation, yet it couldn’t overshadow the underlying gentleness so innate to him. She could hear the booming of his heart. She could feel the comforting arms of Jonathan surrounding both of them.
How often in the past years had Jonathan held her as she had cried?
Times too many to count.
But this time ... this time ... her tears were different.
Her heart knew this was no dream.
This was her son.
Her son had come home.
Finally, her son had come home.
After a long time ... long enough that her tears had bled a damp patch onto his rough shirt, Martha eased back. She wanted to see him. Wanted to feast her eyes on what her heart had already savoured.
She looked from his chest and into his face.
From his face and into his eyes.
“Clark.”
The dawn of his smile filtered through his tears – the smile that had haunted her nights and strengthened her days. The smile she would have recognised anywhere. “Mom?” he said.
She nodded. “Yes,” she breathed.
He smiled again, less hesitantly, then his eyes left hers and swung to Jonathan. “Dad?”
“Son.”
Her two men ... the two men Martha Kent would always love with her whole being ... embraced.
And Martha’s tears surged again.
She noticed the second person – a woman dressed in utilitarian pants and a jacket – standing a few yards away, watching them.
Her cheeks were damp with the overflow of her tears.
Martha stepped closer. Without conscious thought, her arms extended to the younger woman.
She stepped into Martha’s embrace without hesitation.
When they backed away, their eyes met and Martha knew instantly that they would be friends. “I’m Martha,” she said. “I’m Clark’s mom.”
The woman smiled. “I’m Lois,” she said. “I’m his wife.”
“Then we both love him.”
Lois nodded. “With everything we are.”
“Thank you for bringing my boy home.”
Clark had unfolded from Jonathan and now stepped to Lois. He put his arm across her shoulders and nestled her protectively into his side. “Mom, Dad,” he stated. “This is my wife, Lois.” He regarded them steadily, as if he were unsure of their reaction ... as if he were expecting someone to try to wrest her from him ... as if he were willing to give his last breath to ensure that didn’t happen.
Martha smiled. “I know,” she said. “I’m so very pleased for both of you.”
Clark didn’t smile as she had expected him to. “We are married,” he reinforced.
“That’s wonderful,” Martha said. “Let’s take her home.”
Clark’s assertive edge melted under the sunshine of her approval. He looked around. “Home?”
Martha pointed in the direction of the farmhouse. “Home.”
Lois took Clark’s hand and smiled up at him. “Come on,” she said. “We’ll follow your parents.”
Jonathan put his hand on Martha’s arm. “I’ll be with you soon,” he said quietly.
She nodded her understanding and gestured to her son and his wife. “Let’s go home.”
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The short walk to the farmhouse was eerily silent. Martha had questions – a truckload of questions.
Are you all right?
Where have you been?
Why did you go?
Are you staying?
Will you suddenly disappear again?
Yet there was something in Clark’s face that snagged her questions in her throat.
Once in the kitchen, he stood awkwardly, looking around, looking like he wasn’t sure what to do.
Martha pushed away the visual of the little boy who had run into this kitchen so many times, always flashing that smile, always looking for food, always generous with his appreciation.
Now, he stood like a stranger.
“Make yourselves at home,” Martha said. She sensed they needed time alone – time to recover something of their equilibrium. “I’ll just ... I’ll be back soon and we’ll have coffee.”
In her bedroom, Martha looked into the mirror and tried to repair the puffiness left by her tears. The face that stared back at her was, she realised with a sigh, a face that had aged the past few years. But despite that, there was now something new - a joy, a vitality that all the lines of grief could not conceal.
She stood and bounded down the stairs.
When she reached the kitchen, they were still standing, holding each other, looking like two dazed survivors in the midst of the aftermath of a blizzard.
“Would you like coffee?” Martha asked.
Clark released Lois. “Yes,” he said stiltedly. “Thank you.”
Lois shot him an encouraging smile, took his hand and led him to the table. “Can I help you?” she asked Martha.
“No, thank you,” Martha said as she put the kettle on to boil.
She took some scones she had baked that day and put them on the table. Lois’s hand sat atop Clark’s on the table. Martha noticed her wedding ring – it was silver and looked more like a machinery part than jewellery.
The pile of Martha’s questions grew. How long had they been married? Where had they married? How did they meet? Did Lois *know*? Did she know *everything* about her husband?
Martha took out four cups and glanced surreptitiously to Clark. She caught the look that passed between her son and his wife and immediately realised the questions were unimportant.
Her son loved this woman.
Loved her with all of his big heart.
And that was enough for Martha.
She put the butter, strawberry jam and whipped cream on the table, sneaking another look at the son she had yearned for.
He had changed – you would expect that. Gone was the slightly gangly teenager. His shoulders had expanded to an impressive breadth. He wore his hair shorter. He wasn’t wearing glasses.
His face had changed from a boy to a man. His stubble was short, but hinted at thick black growth. There was a maturity to him that hadn’t been there before.
His eyes hadn’t changed.
They were still that beautiful brown, and so soft and loving.
Even now, when they were also full of uncertainty.
Martha put the coffee in front of Clark and grasped the opportunity to look flush into his face. “Three sugars?” she said cheerily. “Right?”
“Three?” he said.
Martha pushed the sugar bowl closer to him. “Perhaps you should put in your own sugar,” she said.
He did, hesitantly, looking to Lois for direction.
“Would you like milk?” Martha asked Lois.
“Oh, yes please.”
Martha brought Lois’s cup and her own to the table. Lois smiled her thanks. Martha sat and all three sipped their coffee.
Over the top of her cup, Lois met Martha’s eyes. When the cup lowered, Martha saw she was smiling. “That is good coffee,” Lois said. “I missed good coffee.”
“Would you like a scone?” Martha offered, again watching her son. You like them with jam and lots of cream, but no butter, she added silently.
Clark reached for a scone and put it on his plate. He turned slightly in his chair, pushing it back from the table. He put the plate on his lap and looked around the table as if trying to locate something.
Lois handed him a fork. “It’s a stick,” she said quietly. “You don’t ... you know.”
He glanced to her and they shared a smile.
Clark used the fork to clumsily break away a section of the scone. He speared the fragment and offered it to Lois. She took it and popped it into her mouth.
Martha lifted her cup and drank absently, though her eyes did not leave the young couple across her table. They seemed oblivious to her – complete in each other.
Lois returned the fork and Clark took a small piece of scone to his mouth. He noticed Martha watching him. “Nice pudding,” he said politely.
Silence fell.
Martha found herself listening for Jonathan’s footsteps.
He wouldn’t be here yet.
“You said you are Clark’s mom,” Lois said.
Martha nodded.
Again Clark and his wife connected with a glance. Martha sensed they had communicated something and arrived at a decision. Clark cleared his throat and looked directly at her. “You must have questions,” he said.
His voice had deepened, accentuating its smooth pleasantness.
“Yes,” Martha admitted. “But none of them are as important as seeing you again ... knowing you are safe and well.”
“There is something I should tell you,” Clark said.
Martha heard the misgiving in his tone and her heart began to beat a little faster. “Go on, honey,” she said.
Before Clark could speak, the kitchen door opened and Jonathan arrived. Martha rose automatically. His quick look in her direction communicated that he’d done what needed to be done. She watched as his eyes centred on their son and he again silently celebrated Clark coming home.
Martha brought his coffee to the table and placed it in front of him. She sat next to her husband and together they faced their son. “What were you going to say?” she asked Clark.
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Kal looked from the woman to the man. Out in the field, seeing them had jolted something from deep within him. As if by looking at them, he’d seen not their faces, but their hearts - and his heart had responded.
He’d expected ... hoped ... that being with them ... coming to their home – had it been his home? - would release a gush of memories.
But it hadn’t.
The only thing familiar in this farmhouse was Lois’s face.
He’d watched the woman as she’d made the coffee. He could see the hurt embedded in her face. At first, Kal had wondered if the man had hurt her. But remembering them together in the field, Kal had quickly realised that this man would never ... *could* never ... hurt this woman.
Then Kal had caught her looking at him with such longing, he understood. *He* was the one who had etched the grief on her face – when he’d left, he had hurt her immeasurably.
And for that, he had to give her the only recompense he could offer.
His honesty.
It would be a shock - but she had to know. And the sooner, the better.
The arrival of the man had given Kal a few extra moments to find a way to tell her. Tell them. He could see the man had not been left unscathed either.
Kal looked to Lois. She nodded and her hand on his knee signalled her encouragement.
He looked at the woman ... the woman who had been his mother. “I don’t remember ...” He couldn’t say ‘you’. “I don’t remember anything,” he said. “I don’t remember anything before ... before I went back.”
“You don’t remember living with us?” the man asked.
“No.”
The woman’s tears had gathered again. “You don’t remember us?” she said and her voice wobbled.
The man put his hand on the woman’s.
“I’m sorry,” Kal said. “I don’t have any memories of anything before being woken up at fifteen years on New ... on another planet.”
“You called me ‘mom’.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “That word came. I don’t know how I knew.”
She took a small piece of white material from her pocket and used it to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes. “It’s OK, Clark,” she assured him. “Just seeing you again – that is enough. The rest will come.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“We can tell you about those missing years,” she said. “Watching you grow was the greatest joy we shared.”
“When did you become my parents?”
“When you were only a few months old.”
“Where did you find me?”
“In a spaceship. In the field.”
“And you brought me ...” Kal looked around the warm, cosy kitchen. “... here?”
“Yes,” the man said. “We told everyone that a distant relative had died leaving a young son.”
“And you called me ‘Clark’?”
“Yes.”
“Was I alone? In the spaceship?”
“Yes – there wasn’t enough room for anyone else.”
Kal hesitated, but decided he had to keep going. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know your names.”
“I’m Martha,” the woman said evenly. “Martha Kent. And this is my husband, Jonathan.”
“Martha and Jonathan Kent,” Kal said slowly, desperately hoping it would crack the barrier through his memory. “So my name was ... Clark Kent?”
Martha nodded. “Clark Jerome Kent.”
“You raised me?”
“Yes.”
Kal looked to Jonathan. “You taught me?”
“Yes.”
He looked back to Martha. “You fed me and clothed me?”
“Yes.”
“You ...” Kal stopped. He wanted so much to know - he thought he *did* know, but he needed to hear it. “You ... loved me?”
Martha’s tears bulged again and Jonathan cleared his throat. “Yes,” Martha said. “We loved you. We couldn’t have loved you more if you’d been born to us.”
“And then I left?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know why? Did you meet Kip? Did we explain why I had to go?”
Martha’s tears tumbled down her soft cheek as she shook her head. “No,” she cried. “We woke up one morning and your bed was empty.”
“That was all?”
“That was all.”
No wonder the grief was carved upon her face. “How long?” Kal asked. “How long since I left?”
“Twelve years.”
“How old was I then?”
“Fifteen.”
“I ... I don’t remember going,” Kal said. “I don’t remember why we didn’t tell you, but I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry for all the pain I caused you.”
Both Martha and Jonathan nodded. Jonathan coughed again. “Your mother ... Martha ... never gave up ... never gave up her hope that you would return ... that one day you would come back to us.”
“I didn’t know,” Kal said desperately. “I still don’t know so much. I have come back in body ... but I’m not sure if I can be the person you remember.”
Martha smiled – a watery smile, but it warmed something inside Kal. “You’re the person we remember,” she assured him. “Some things have changed. Twelve years is a long time, there have to be some changes – but the basics are the same. You are still Clark.”
“I only remember being called Kal. Kal-El.”
“Kal,” Martha said. “Kal. Would you like us to –?“
“No,” Kal said quickly. “No. I want you to call me Clark. And ...” He wasn’t sure how to word this question. “And ...”
“And?” Martha prompted.
He looked from Jonathan to Martha. Her steady gaze gave him the confidence to continue. “I can’t go on being Kal,” he said. “Not here, not on this planet. I’d like to go back to being Clark.”
A little squeal escaped from Martha, though she tried to smother it. “You’re staying?” she asked, as if she didn’t dare believe.
Kal nodded. “Yes. I’m staying ... perhaps not here exactly ... I need to discuss that with my wife ... but I’m staying on this planet ... and if you have no objections ...” He laughed awkwardly. “I’m not sure how one asks if he can be a son again.”
Martha ripped the white square from her pocket and dabbed ineffectually at the stream of her tears. “Clark, you never stopped being our son,” she sobbed.
Jonathan roughly brushed his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt. “We would like nothing more,” he said raggedly. “We were proud to have you as our son all those years ago and nothing has changed. You will always have a place in this family ... and in our hearts.”
Kal swallowed down the clump of emotions congregating in his throat. “And Lois?” he asked.
Martha looked to Lois, then back to Kal. “We love you ... you love her ... she is already a part of us.”
“Thank you,” he said gravely.
Martha gave a weak, watery chuckle. “May I ask my daughter-in-law a question?”
Kal took the hand of his wife. “Yes.”
“Are you ... from Clark’s planet?”
Lois laughed, as she too dried her tears. “No,” she said. “No, I’m a local.”
“Local?” Kal asked.
“Well, not exactly from the Midwest, more the East, but this is my planet and this is my country.”
Her statement thundered through Kal. “We *are* on Earth?” he asked.
Lois nodded. “We’ve both come home,” she said.
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After the scones had been eaten and the coffee drunk, Martha suggested she show them to Kal’s old room. He agreed, hoping the room would be the catalyst he craved.
It was clean. Uncluttered. Simple. Tidy. Homey. Welcoming. The bed was made. Kal surveyed the room, taking in the plain, solid furniture and the colourful, cheery curtains. He saw a picture - surrounded by a frame of wood – and crossed the room with two long strides. He stared at it.
“Pick it up,” Martha encouraged. “This is your room. Everything here is yours. Nothing has changed.”
Kal took the picture. There were three people – younger versions of Martha and Jonathan – and a child – a boy. He studied their faces. They – all of them – looked so happy. So content. He turned to Martha. “This is us?”
“Yes,” she said. “You were seven years old.”
“We look like we have everything,” Kal said.
She smiled tremulously. “We *did* have everything.”
Kal replaced the picture. “You kept my room,” he said in amazement.
“Of course,” Martha said. She moved to the bed and brushed her hand across the covers. “This bed is really too small for two people,” she said. “Would you be more comfortable in the spare room? The bed there is bigger.”
“No,” Kal said quickly. “I want to stay here.” He shrugged, hoping she would understand. “It may help me remember something.”
She smiled her understanding and Kal felt a mixture of affection and respect. It took a lot to ruffle this woman, he realised.
Which shouldn’t surprise him – she had taken an alien baby and loved him as if he were her son.
Jonathan arrived with their bags. “Thank you,” Lois said as she took them.
“Where is our spacecraft?” Kal asked.
“I’ve hidden it under a shrub,” Jonathan replied. “When it is dark you and I will go in the truck and bring it here.”
“Where will we put it?”
“In the barn, next to the other one.”
“The other one?”
“The one you came in the first time.”
“You kept it?” Kal asked.
“We kept it hidden,” Jonathan amended. “We always feared what would happen if people knew of your origins. We didn’t want you to be hunted or researched or harassed.”
“Thank you,” Kal said.
“We’ll leave you to freshen up,” Martha said. “Supper will be ready whenever you are.” She turned to leave, but Lois caught her arm. “Yes, honey?”
“Could I possibly have a shower?” Lois asked.
“Of course,” Martha said.
“Do you have enough water?” Kal asked.
“We have all the water you need,” she told him. “Take as long as you like.” She turned again.
This time it was Kal who stalled her. Martha looked up at him. “Thank you,” he said. “Mom.”
Martha turned quickly to follow Jonathan through the doorway – but she wasn’t quick enough to conceal the gush of her tears.
The door shut and Kal turned to Lois and took her into his arms. For long moments, he held her, drawing strength from the familiarity he found in her. Everything else had shifted, but Lois ... Lois still felt the same in his arms.
When she backed away, she was smiling. “Wanna have a shower with me?” she said.
“You said this is your planet? Your country?”
“It is,” Lois said. “I’m not exactly sure which state, but we are in the Midwest of the United States of America.”
“So Metropolis is somewhere close?”
She grinned and her hand floated across his cheek, past his chin and down his throat. “Relatively speaking,” she said.
“Do you want to go there now? We should find your family.”
“We will,” she said. “But tonight is for you and your parents.”
“My *parents*,” Kal said in amazement.
“They seem like very special people,” Lois said. She looked around the room. “They kept hoping you would return. For twelve years, they didn’t give up.”
“I hurt them,” Kal said, with deep regret.
“You had no choice,” Lois said. “Your father, Jor-El, said you were to be left here unless it was critical that you return and lead New Krypton. I trust Kip – trust that he would have only taken you if there were no other options.”
“I’m glad,” Kal said. “I’m glad for them that I had to leave New Krypton.” He slid his fingers lovingly through Lois’s hair. “If you hadn’t come to me, they would have spent the rest of their lives wondering ... grieving.”
Her hand had drifted lower ... inside his shirt ... exploring his chest, and everything except being with his wife faded to insignificance. Kal leant forward and took her mouth with burning intent.
She broke away, and laughed at his breathlessness. “Shower first,” she told him.
“Together?”
She grinned. “Absolutely.”
