Home V: Obsession -- 12/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"Probably." Connor was silent while he inhaled Clark's cooking. At last he sat back and loosened his belt.
"That's the best meal I've had in weeks," he said. "Do you give lessons?"
"Once in a while." Clark glanced at Lori. "I've even managed to teach Lori how to boil water."
Connor laughed. "Well, that's an achievement, I suppose."
"Hey," Lori protested. "I can scramble an egg; I can even fry one. I can toast bread. And I can make fudge."
"That's true," Clark agreed. "Lori is a survival cook. She cooks to survive."
Lori kicked him lightly under the table, but she had to admit privately that what he said was true. She could handle the basics, but cooking to her would never be anything better than an onerous chore. Clark, on the other hand, was an artist in the kitchen, which was just as well or they would have had to order out a lot more than they did.
Connor grinned. "Well, just as long as you have a system that works, I guess it doesn't matter who cooks." He glanced at his wrist. "I hate to eat and run, but I have to be at the gym at six in the morning."
"Sure," Lori said. "Just try to be careful, okay?"
He nodded. "I will. And I'll avoid dark alleyways." He stood up. "You said your intern's name is Carla Rhoads? Do you think it would be safe for me to send her some flowers? I feel pretty bad that she got caught in the fallout of this thing."
"Probably," Clark said. "As long as you make sure no one overhears you placing the order -- and you don't visit her until we catch the killer."
"That's what I'll do then," Connor said. He hesitated. "I guess I should thank you again for trying to help me, but that seems pretty inadequate. Just be careful, Lori. I'd never forgive myself if something should happen to you because of me."
"I will," Lori said.
**********
After Connor left, Lori unceremoniously kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the couch again. Clark retreated to the kitchen, and she heard the familiar sounds of her husband making tea, and then the hum of the warmer set on defrost. The deliciously spicy smell of one of his coffeecakes that he prepared on a regular basis and froze for special occasions began to permeate the apartment.
The vidphone chirped, and she turned her head. "Yes?"
The blank screen dissolved into the features of her father and mother. "Hi," she said.
"Hi honey." Rob Lyons smiled at her out of the screen. "We wondered if it would be intruding if we were to drop by for a little while."
"Of course not," Lori said. "We finished dinner a little while ago. Clark was about to serve some coffeecake."
"All right," her father said. "We'll be there in a few minutes."
The screen went off. Clark re-entered the living room. "Your mom and dad are coming by?"
Lori nodded. "I guess so. I suspect Mom has had enough of playing tourist for a little while."
"Probably," Clark said, comfortably. "Maybe they'd like some coffeecake. Your mom likes coffee rather than tea, doesn't she?"
"She likes flavored coffee for after dinner. Chocolate mocha," Lori specified.
"Now I see where you get it. It'll just take a minute." Clark vanished into the kitchen again, only to reappear two seconds later. "Done. It'll be ready by the time they get here."
"I think I'll have tea," Lori said, surprising herself.
"You're in luck," Clark said. "It's in the teapot, steeping right now." He sank onto the sofa beside her. "Where are your new earrings?"
"In my purse," Lori said. "I'll put them on in the morning."
"I wondered why the signal didn't go off when you called for me earlier," he said. "Be careful about that, by the way. All the others will hear it too, and you could end up bringing in every superman-- or woman -- in the city if it goes off."
"Oh really? I'm glad you warned me, but I was being careful anyway," she said. "I wouldn't want to pull you in on a false alarm."
"I'd rather have a false alarm or two than have something happen to you," Clark said.
The downstairs door chime sounded at that moment, and Clark glanced at the vidphone. "View door," he ordered. The closed circuit viewer popped on immediately, revealing Lori's parents. "They're here. Open security door," Clark said.
Lori sat up, swinging her feet to the floor. "Hopefully, you settled the eating issue this morning," she said. "Mom's actually okay to be with when she's not on one of her crusades."
Clark grinned. "I'm glad of that. Maybe she'll relax about the two of us before long. Actually," he added, "she must be a pretty good person, or you wouldn't have turned out as well as you did."
"I'm glad you think so," Lori said.
"I know so," Clark said.
"Am I a good wife, Clark?" Lori looked doubtfully up at him. "I get in so much trouble that I sometimes wonder."
"You're the best wife I could wish for," Clark said. "I thought you knew that."
"I know you say that, but sometimes ..." She bit her lip. "You're always worried that I'm going to get in over my head, and I seem to attract trouble even without looking for it. And today, poor Carla got attacked by someone who was probably after me." She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, all the doubt that frequently nagged at her of late coming to the surface. She was married to Superman, for heaven's sake -- or the man who was also Superman. Was she really qualified to be his wife and the mother of the child growing within her? This baby would one day have the powers of its father, for good or ill. Could Lori Lyons, who couldn't seem to keep her nose out of others' business and seemed to get herself into tight spots on a fairly regular basis, actually be competent to raise someone like that?
Clark sat down next to her on the sofa and put an arm around her. "Lori, do you know what Ronnie said after she met you?"
Lori shook her head.
"She said you were just what I needed -- a wife that would keep me on my toes. She was right, too. You're a beautiful, intelligent woman, who also happens to be the perfect wife for me. And you'd realize it if you weren't tired, and upset about Carla -- not to mention, your hormones probably aren't helping."
Lori sniffled again. "That's for sure. The nine month nutsies strikes again, huh?"
"It wouldn't be a bit surprising." He dabbed at her cheeks with his handkerchief. "But Mariann and Rob will be here any second, so unless you want your mom asking questions ..."
"Yeah." Lori stood up quickly. "Tell them I'm in the bathroom if they get here while I'm fixing my face," she said. She scrubbed quickly at a stray tear. "I don't need Mother giving me the third degree tonight."
"Smart girl," Clark said. "We'll talk about this later if you're still worried about it, but believe me, you don't need to be."
In the bathroom, Lori splashed cold water on her face and repaired the damage to her makeup. As she emerged into the bedroom, she heard the door chime, and hurried to rejoin Clark in the living room as he let in her parents.
"Come in," he said, opening the door wide for them.
Rob let his wife enter ahead of him. "I hope we're not intruding," he said. "Mariann and I have had enough tourism for the day."
"It can be a bit much," Clark agreed. "Come in and sit down. Just hang your coats on the rack behind the door. I was just about to bring in coffeecake and tea. There's even some chocolate mocha coffee, if you'd like some, Mariann."
"Why, thank you." Mariann looked surprised. "I'd like that very much."
Clark closed the door and retreated to the kitchen to get the cake.
"How are you doing, Princess?" Rob asked, smiling at his daughter. "Any more adventures?"
"Oh, the usual," Lori said, trying to sound light. Her father cast a sharp look at her, and she suspected he wasn't fooled, but he said nothing. Instead, he took a seat in Clark's favorite recliner and smiled at her.
"I can smell the coffeecake. Did you make it?"
Lori grinned and shook her head. "Nope. I'm still a basics cook. Clark's the artist. If this baby's a girl, I hope he can teach her how to cook. Except for Mother, none of the women in this family seem to be able to handle food -- except to eat it. Marcy's no better than I am."
Rob chuckled. "It must be hereditary. Your Grandma Lyons couldn't cook, either, if you remember. It was a good thing my father was a chef or we'd all have starved."
"Grandma always said that there was no law that the woman had to be the cook," Lori said. "Of course," she added, "Grandma's job didn't leave her much time to cook."
"What did your grandmother do?" Clark asked. He set the cake on the coffee table and followed it with the tea and coffeepots.
"Mom was a cop," Rob said. "She wound up the Police Commissioner in Pasadena where I grew up. She always used to say she'd married my dad so she could have a decent meal at the end of the day."
Clark's eyebrows flew up. "Commissioner Catherine Lyons?" he said. "She was your mother?"
"Did you know her?" Rob asked, looking surprised. "Mom died six years ago in a skiing accident."
"Not exactly," Clark said, making a quick recovery. "My father knew her slightly. He was a reporter. He had some interesting things to say about her."
Rob laughed. "I'll bet he did. She used to make a game of scaring reporters to death, just on principle. It's interesting you should remember her name."
"She made quite an impression on my father," Clark said. He glanced at Lori and his left eyelid flickered in a quick wink. "Would you like some coffeecake, Lori?"
She nodded, and accepted the enormous chunk of cake that her husband cut for her. Clark distributed the other pieces, poured tea for Lori and himself and coffee for Mariann. Rob held out his cup. "I'll have tea, if you don't mind," he said.
Clark poured it and sank down beside Lori. "So, Mariann, what did you think of Old Town's Valentine Festival?"
"Very colorful," Mariann said. "Rob and I had dinner at one of the cafes there. There was a very amusing magician doing tricks for the diners."
"That sounds like Rosie's," Lori said. "It's one of our landmarks here in the city."
"I believe it was," Mariann said. "We had an excellent view of the -- I believe it's called the Valentine Marathon? The runners went right past the cafe." She took her first bite of the coffeecake and raised her brows. "This is delicious, Clark. You *made* this?"
"The recipe belonged to my mother," Clark said.
"Do you give the recipe to family members? I remember Lara telling me that she and a number of other members of the family had been trying to pry the recipe for those delicious brownies out of you for years."
Clark laughed. "I finally gave in. If you'd like the recipe for the cake, I can write it down for you."
"That would be perfect," Mariann said. "The other members of my bridge club will be green with envy."
"Remind me before you leave," Clark said.
"I will. It's a relief to know that someone looks after Lori's diet," she said. "I never could convince her to eat a healthy diet, and she was one of those children who never gained an ounce, no matter how much junk food she ate."
"Mother, I didn't eat much junk food ..."
Clark's hand closed around Lori's and squeezed gently. "Right now that isn't a problem," he said. "Lori's blood sugar has been the real problem from the beginning of this pregnancy. She has her doctor's orders to eat healthy, filling meals and to snack whenever she starts to feel hungry."
Rob bent forward to pour himself more tea. "What kind of tea is this?"
"Oolong," Clark said. "I buy it from a little family-owned Asian market."
"I like it," Rob said. "I've noticed that you seem to be very well-traveled. I suppose that must have been when you were a free-lance journalist?"
"Mostly, yes," Clark said.
Rob nodded. "I've done some traveling -- not as much as you by a long ways, I suspect, but in my line of business I travel now and then." He nodded toward the fertility statue. "That must be a very valuable piece. I can tell it's old. A fertility statue, if I'm not mistaken, meant to ensure that a marriage is happy and fruitful."
"That's right," Clark said. "It was given to me by a Borneo medicine man."
Had her father deliberately changed the subject? Lori wondered, listening as Clark and Rob discussed several of Clark's more exotic antiques placed here and there about the apartment. The conversation rambled on, including Clark's extensive library of books in foreign languages. Mariann began to fidget, and Lori suspected that her mother was getting bored.
"Do you mind if we turn on the news?" Mariann asked finally. "I don't like to fall so out of touch with the world just because I'm on vacation."
"Vidscreen on," Clark said, obediently. "PNN."
PNN was the Daily Planet's news channel. Lori leaned against her husband as Charlene Lewis, the principal anchor for the evening news, smiled into the camera. The vidcast covered world news, including the early morning quake in the Philippines, with pictures of downtown Manila immediately after the 6.5 tremor that had knocked down the new City Hall and damaged the Manila Medical Center, not to mention causing a good deal of minor damage. The vid camera showed Jetstream, the daughter of the Blue Djinn, who made Manila her home, as she assisted the emergency services in dealing with the disaster. The Djinn, himself, and his son, Typhoon, showed up to assist, which led the anchor to make several remarks about the family unity of the supermen, considering their willingness to assist each other -- and to wonder why more of them hadn't come.
"Well, of course they help each other," Mariann said. "Family always helps family -- or at least they should. I wish journalists understood that. They always act as if the supermen don't have feelings like the rest of us. I've always thought that much of the media doesn't give them nearly the credit they deserve."
Lori stared at her mother in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"I'm sorry if I've insulted your profession, Lori," Mariann said, "but it's always seemed to me that the media act as if the supermen have some sort of official duty to help the rest of us. These people have volunteered to do an amazingly thankless job. People expect them to show up when there's a disaster, as if it's in a written contract, and constantly criticize them if they aren't perfect. What they don't seem to understand is that these incredible men and women have volunteered for this work on their own. No one makes them do it. They somehow decided -- from the first Superman on -- that their tremendous abilities obligated them to help."
Clark gave Lori a startled look. "You seem to have pretty strong feelings on the subject."
Mariann took a sip of coffee. "I do. I detest sanctimonious news commentators who feel they have the right to pass judgement on someone who gives so much of himself -- or herself -- to help strangers. I believe I recall a quote of the original Superman's in some history book I read, where he said that the reason he was here was to help. Sometimes the media act as if they aren't human, and have no human feelings of their own. It always makes me angry when they criticize one of the supermen for not being perfect. I even wrote a very sharp letter to the Herald over their attack on Shooting Star a few months back. Several people lost their lives in a crash of one of the transpacific bullet trains and some officious reporter thought that she should have arrived sooner. I didn't see the media getting its hands dirty helping out. All this fellow could do was find fault. It annoyed me, and I said so."
"I'm glad you did," Lori said. "Not enough people stand up for them, in my opinion. They seem to think that Superman and the others should be everywhere and prevent every disaster. There are only a limited number of them and they can't be everywhere."
"Exactly," Mariann said. "What they can do is enough. We're lucky to have them. I wonder if some of the critics have ever thought what it was like before the arrival of Superman. Disasters happened, and there was no extraordinary man or woman there to help. People had to cope on their own."
Rob was nodding. "I agree. My mother used to say something similar. She was acquainted with Superman -- the original Superman -- when she was a young police officer. She used to tell us -- my brother and me -- stories about him. He apparently helped her on a number of occasions and saved her life once. She used to say that if not for him, none of us would be here, today. He disappeared a few years after she joined the SWAT team and she always wondered what had happened to him."
"Did you ever meet him?" Clark asked.
"No, it was before I was born," Rob said. "I wish I had, but he must have been in his seventies when Mom knew him, although he didn't show it. I guess Kryptonians don't show their age like us ordinary mortals, but he might simply have died."
"It's possible," Lori said, when Clark didn't answer. "Grandma never talked about it to me. I wish she had."
"She didn't talk about her work much after she retired," Rob said. "At least not to you children. I think she was afraid one of you would get romantic ideas about it and want to be a cop. Not that you don't seem to get into as many dangerous situations as she did, or more." He smiled at her. "Maybe if you'd been a cop, you'd have been safer."
Mariann nodded. "I know you don't like me to worry about you, Lori, but you're still my daughter. You'll find out that mothers always worry about their children, even when they're grown and have children of their own."
She glanced at the screen, where Charlene was reporting on the assault of the Daily Planet's office intern in the parking tier of the Daily Planet. Carla's picture flashed on the screen, and there was a comment from John Olsen on the event, including the fact that the Planet was increasing the number of Security personnel in response to this unfortunate incident.
"It's things like that," Rob said, "that concern me. If Superman hadn't arrived in time, that girl might have died. What were *you* doing there, anyway -- not that I'm particularly surprised."
"Carla's going to be all right," Clark said. "Lori was in the elevator that we think frightened the assailant off."
"She resembles you," Mariann said. "Is that a coincidence, or wasn't it?"
How did Mariann know these things, Lori wondered. "We don't know," she said. "I don't see why it shouldn't be."
"Because you seem to attract trouble," her mother said. "I've noticed it since you were a child. Are you involved in any investigation at the moment that might make you a target?"
"We're investigating the murder of a fitness instructor a few nights ago," Clark said. "I suppose there could be a connection, but if there is, it's not obvious. Don't worry, Mariann. Lori isn't taking any chances."
"I suppose it's your job," Mariann said reluctantly, "but it's driving me into an early grave."
"Mom, don't," Lori said. "You're barely sixty. If you live even the average life span, you'll make it to the century mark easily. And so will I."
Rob smiled slightly. "We're not telling you how to do your job, honey, but parents worry. It's part of the job description."
Mariann nodded. "I worry about you and Marcy, Lori. Both of you are in positions where you're likely to attract deranged people. Did Marcy tell you about that obsessed fan that stalked her for two months last year before they caught him? If it hadn't been for Ryan, who knows what might have happened."
"I heard about it," Lori said. "Ryan tracked him down, though. It's a good thing that he's a private detective."
Mariann nodded distractedly. "He had photos of her that dated back to that first year when she modeled for Shaw and Rickman's. When she married for life, it apparently sent him over the edge. He was actually preparing a cell to keep her in for the rest of her life. It's frightening."
"I know," Lori said, "but both of us have husbands who are determined to protect us. Clark and Ryan aren't exactly pushovers, you know."
"And," Clark said mildly, "Marcy and Lori aren't exactly pushovers, themselves."
"Well, enough of that," Rob said. "There's no point in stewing over what can't be changed, and I don't think it's likely that Lori is going to give up her career just because she occasionally runs into risky situations. What time did you want to get together for dinner tomorrow?"
"I thought maybe six," Clark said. "The play at the MetroPAC starts at seven, so that should give us plenty of time to get there before the curtain goes up."
"That's probably a safe enough margin," Rob agreed. "Did you have a recommendation for a good restaurant, afterwards? I'd suggest the Lexor, but Mariann and I are staying there and we wanted to see more of Metropolis's night life than just our hotel."
"Don't blame you," Clark said. "If you want my suggestion, I'd recommend the Sky Lounge at the Metropolis Star Tower."
"I've heard of it," Mariann said. "Is it as picturesque as they say?"
"You have a bird's eye view of the harbor and the downtown business district," Clark said. "The floor is crystal clear glass, and it's as if you're suspended in the air, both in the dining area and the dance floor."
"That sounds fine," Rob said. "Dining and dancing after the play, my dear." He smiled at Mariann, and Lori saw the affection in his smile. Yes, her father was still in love with her mother, even after all these years, three children, and a number of fights. Was it possible, as her father had said to her, not long after her marriage to Clark, that her mother wasn't in love with him? He'd said she was his best friend, but that she wasn't in love with him. How could her mother not be in love with the man she'd been married to for thirty-eight years? Lori couldn't imagine it.
Mariann smiled back at him, and all at once Lori knew that her father had been wrong. Once Mariann might not have loved him, but somewhere along the line that had changed, perhaps without either realizing it.
Rob glanced at his wrist talker. "It's getting late," he said. "We'd better get back to the hotel and let Clark and Lori get some sleep, dear. They have to work in the morning."
"My goodness, yes." Mariann set down her empty coffee cup. "Lori needs her rest. Do you suppose you could give me that recipe tomorrow, when you've had a chance to write it down, Clark?"
"Actually, I can give you my file card," Clark said. "I know it by heart, and never need to check the recipe anymore. I'll get it." He turned and went into the kitchen where, Lori knew, he would write the recipe at super speed and return within seconds.
The kitchen door swung open, and Clark returned with a file card that bore the recipe in his neat handwriting. "Here you go."
Mariann accepted the card and tucked it into her handbag. "Thank you," she said. "This is very nice of you, Clark."
"Don't mention it." Clark gave Lori a hand up from the sofa and they followed her parents to the door, where they retrieved their coats from the antique coat tree.
As he opened the door, Rob glanced down at Lori's waistline. "I'm looking forward to being a grandfather again. Be careful in the meantime, Princess."
"I will," she said.
**********
tbc
