I agree that you have done a great job of showing Clark's logic that leads to his lunk-headed behavior. To hiim it all seems perfectly logical.
Oh well, I guess it's all part of his charm.
He flashed his mother a grateful smile and for a moment really took her in; her blond hair was mussed from sleep, and her blue eyes blinked at him myopically. Her hands were holding his, and he looked at them – really looked – and for an odd moment he saw them not as her son but as a stranger would see them. They were not beautiful, his mother’s hands. They were the hands of a poor farmer’s wife – scarred and callused, with short, practical nails. They were hands that had spent his entire lifetime gardening and cleaning and doing a thousand rough chores. If they’d ever had a manicure it had been a lark, something someone talked her into doing once, not an indulgence she would allow herself on any sort of a regular basis. And her hands showed it – showed the effects of all those years and all that work.
I love this passage. My mom grew up on a farm and her parents lived on it until they lost the barn to a fire. ( when I was in High school). The way you describe Martha's hands so clearly reminds me of my grandmother's hands. We spent a lot of time up on the farm when I was growing up and this brought up all sorts of memories.
Nice Job! Can't wait for the next part.
Vonceil
