***** Chapter Five
Lana knocked on the Kent’s back door and smiled through the screen. “Hi, Martha. Is Clark here? I didn’t see him when I drove up. We were supposed to meet this morning before I went to work.”
Instead of answering, Martha pushed open the screen door. “Lana, how nice to see you! Please, come in and sit down. Have you had breakfast yet?”
Lana hesitated. “Yes, thanks. I’d really like to talk to Clark, though. There are a few things about college we need to discuss and we don’t have much time – “
“He’s down in the basement.”
Lana frowned in confusion. “The basement? What’s down there besides the laundry room and the furnace?”
Martha shook her head. “He’s in the barn basement.”
“Oh.” Comprehension replaced confusion. “So, when’s he coming up?”
“He’s been down there since he got home last night.”
“Last night? Why? What’s wrong? What happened?”
“We don’t know. I wouldn’t have known he was there if his father hadn’t been inside the barn cleaning the hay baler.”
Lana stepped back and chewed her thumbnail. “He’s been down there for, what, about twelve hours?”
“Almost. He’s not done this before.” Martha sighed. “I hope nothing bad happened last night.”
“Something bad? What could have happened to Clark? He’s pretty much hurt-proof, isn’t he?”
“As far as we know, his body is, but I’m not so sure about his heart.”
“His – heart, yes, of course.” Lana stood and paced for a few moments. “Would you mind if I tried to talk to him?”
“We usually give him time to work out whatever it is that’s bothering him, dear, but your relationship with him is your own. It’s up to you.”
Lana nodded and paced some more, then made a decision. “I’m going to try. I don’t know how much good I’ll do, but I have to try.” She put her hand on the older woman’s arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Wish me luck.”
“I wish you love, Lana.”
Lana hesitated, then leaned close and kissed Martha on the cheek. “Thank you.”
*****
The barn was unusually quiet. The morning sun slanted through the spaces between the wall slats. Lana made her way to the iron ring in the floor, but she wasn’t strong enough to pull the door open. She settled for lifting the ring and letting it clang back in place three times. He had to know she was there. If Clark didn’t open the door after that noise, he simply wasn’t going to talk to her.
She waited for an interminable time, trying to control both her fears and her imagination. What could have happened to drive him here and keep him from his family? Had she moved too fast, pushed him too hard? Had she scared him away from her? Was there something else he hadn’t told her about himself, something he was certain would make her run screaming in any direction that was away from him?
She whispered, “Come on, Clark, open up and let me in.”
She stopped her pacing and sat down on a sawhorse, determined to relax. As she took her first deep breath, however, the cellar door finally opened. Clark stuck his head up and looked directly at her without saying anything. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and she couldn’t see his face clearly.
“Clark? It’s me. It’s Lana.”
“I know.”
His flat tone wasn’t very encouraging. “Are you okay?”
He sighed long and low. “I really don’t want to talk right now.”
She stood and took a hesitant step towards the stairway. “Please? I want to help.”
Abruptly, he turned and clomped down the stairs, but didn’t close the door. She paused, then decided to risk following him.
She negotiated the steps down to the darkness below. She could barely see Clark sitting on the same barrel she’d used as a chair just a few days before, facing towards the nearest wall and away from her. She cautiously slid her feet across the rough planking on the floor; tripping and falling wouldn’t be very dignified at the moment, especially if she broke something.
She stopped beside him. He didn’t acknowledge her presence, even when she gently put her hand on his shoulder. “Clark?”
He sniffed and wiped his nose. She was shocked. What could make this most powerful human she knew of cry?
She knelt down beside him and leaned her head on his upper arm. “Clark, I love you. Let me help.”
He snorted. She tried again. “Please? If there’s something wrong, maybe I can help you fix it.” He didn’t respond. “Clark? Is it me? Have I done something wrong?”
He shook his head. His voice was tight with barely restrained emotion. “No. Not you.” He rocked back and forth a few times. “Not ever you.”
She restrained a sigh of relief and softly whispered, “Please let me help, darling.”
He dropped his head against his hands and began sobbing. Lana reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as far as she could and held on for dear life. She knelt beside him, stroking his head or squeezing him as he held her arm and cried.
Long minutes passed as Clark poured out his pain and grief. Lana still didn’t know what had happened, but she thought it had to be something that Superman had been involved in. His parents were fine, Martha didn’t know what the problem was, Lana herself was hale and hearty, so by process of elimination she landed on a Superman event.
He finally lifted his head and looked at her. “She was only four.”
Lana shifted in front of him and held his hands. “Who was only four, Clark?”
“The little girl. She – her parents were driving along a farm road, going home, I guess. Some drunk in a pickup truck hit them head-on.”
Lana gasped. “Clark! Was she – wasn’t she in a car seat?”
“Yes.” He closed her eyes and shook his head. “It wasn’t the wreck that killed her, it was the fire.”
“No.” Now there were tears in Lana’s eyes. She squeezed Clark’s hands as tightly as she could.
He forced himself to continue. “I heard the accident while I was on patrol. I saw the fire and got the parents out of the front seat, then blew the fire out. The parents weren’t injured too badly, but both of them were unconscious. I got them comfortable at the side of the road and then took care of the pickup driver. All he had was a broken nose from hitting the steering wheel.”
Lana ducked her head and kissed Clark’s fingers. He went on. “An ambulance arrived just as I got the guy settled down. They treated all three adults and were loading them up for transport when the mom woke up and started calling for Jerusha, yelling for her baby. I ran to the back seat of their car, and there she was.”
Lana knew the news was bad. She had no idea how to comfort him, but she refused to leave him alone with his grief.
He momentarily clenched his hands and nearly crushed her wrists, but she didn’t cry out. Almost immediately he eased his grip and she gasped in relief. She hoped he’d tell her the rest of it. She was afraid he’d tell her the rest of it.
He hesitated, then continued. “Jerusha was burned over almost all of her body. The fire had burst through the back seat from the gas tank and enveloped her immediately. There was nothing I could have done.” He bent his head. “I couldn’t save her! All the things I can do but – that little girl, I was there but I couldn’t – “
His throat closed and he spoke no more. Lana had no idea what to do, what to say, how to comfort him. When she’d encouraged him to become Superman, she’d never envisioned a circumstance where Clark couldn’t help, couldn’t save someone.
He’d already failed, or at least he thought he had. All she could do was hold him while he cried. No words of comfort came to her. Nothing she thought to say sounded any better than just sitting there with him.
It seemed hours before he ran down and slumped against her. He cupped his hand under her chin and lifted it for a quick kiss. She held his face between her hands and softly said, “Clark, I’m so sorry.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “Maybe if you talked to your dad – “
“No.”
“But he might – “
He spoke more sternly. “No.” He sat up. “He’d tell me what I already know, that I did all I could and I should be glad I could do that much.”
“Sounds like good advice to me.”
“It is.” He sighed deeply. “But it doesn’t seem to help much.”
She stroked his cheek. “I wish I could help you.”
He nodded. “So do I.” He straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. ”I’ve got chores to do. Maybe we could meet tomorrow or the next day.”
“I’m sure your folks would understand if you took a little time for yourself.”
“The farm won’t stand still and wait for me to feel better. Besides, it might help me to do something constructive.”
She stood and offered her hands to help him up. He almost smiled as he let her pull him upright. “Okay, Clark, I’ll go. But you have to promise to call me later, okay?”
He nodded. “Tonight, okay?”
“I’ll be waiting.” She turned towards the stairway and hesitated. “Will you be all right?”
His face was smooth, almost blank. “I’ll make it.”
“No, I mean – “
He held up his hand. “I know what you mean. Thank you, Lana.”
She tried to smile. “It’s only because I love you so much.”
“I know. I love you, too. I’ll talk to you later.”
She nodded and walked up the steps into the brightness of the Kansas summer. She hoped the sun could melt the coldness in Clark’s heart, because right now she had no idea how to help him. He probably wouldn’t talk to his parents about this, and even if he did, she doubted he’d pay attention to their loving advice.
Lana glanced at her watch and saw that she’d be late for her shift at the cafeteria if she didn’t hurry, then briefly wondered if everything she’d planned for them was all worth the effort.
It wasn’t just Clark who felt like a failure at that moment.
*****
They both enrolled at Kansas State the following autumn, Clark as journalism major with sociology minor, and Lana as archaeology major with a minor in finance. They both made the Dean’s list every semester. Superman made infrequent appearances to help at natural disasters, and occasionally assisted various police departments across the country in serious situations. He was spotted more often in Metropolis than in any other place, leading to speculation that the city was his home base. Clark encouraged the speculation, since it kept the public eye away from Middle America and from the Kents.
The Superman Foundation made money steadily, and Superman was present at a number of the presentation ceremonies to disburse the money. Lana’s suggestion of two-and-a-half percent for Superman’s discretionary fund had been lower than the number the foundation’s lawyers had suggested, which helped to convince Clark that the fund was a useful item. He gave Lana discretionary authority over the money, which he almost regretted when he learned that she’d begun using the globe to build up the funds. Bob was able to predict market trends with over ninety percent accuracy. The shell companies Lana set up to manage the money shielded her from publicity, which was fine with her. All she wanted to do was use a little of the money to fund scientific projects, and also to build up a nest egg for them to use when they really needed one. For the most part, she was quite successful.
Lana worked with her father between semesters as much as she could, both in the field and at home schmoozing with the rich and famous, gaining invaluable experience and valuable contacts. She had always been adept at hosting the gatherings of the elite in her father’s field, and now that she was older and in college she was even more effective. Her father’s work expanded, largely due to her productive efforts with the people with the money and the people who picked the projects.
In addition to serving as feature editor of the university’s weekly paper beginning in his second semester, Clark began making a name for himself as a travel feature writer. He sold a number of articles to several state-sponsored publications and some to national periodicals. He also sold quite a few human-interest stories, and he consented to write a weekly column for the Wichita Tribune. He was proving to be skillful in penetrating to the heart of a story and showing the people in the situation, not just the situation, and making his readers care about the people involved in his stories. Superman’s relationship with Perry White made it easy for Clark to sell several stories to the Daily Planet, most of which were about people Superman had helped and how their lives were positively affected by Superman’s actions.
Clark’s success was less financially rewarding than Lana’s investment activity or her own archeological publications, but he was more widely recognized by the public. When he and Lana were introduced together at Professor Lang’s professional events and gatherings, Clark often garnered more attention than Lana or her father did, even from the professionals in attendance. She was uncomfortable with his growing celebrity, but she wasn’t sure what, if anything, could – or should – be done about it. It didn’t fit neatly on her scoreboard.
In early January of his junior year, Clark spent nearly two days searching for a group of Girl Scouts who’d gotten lost in the Pacific Northwest during a winter weekend campout. For the first time in his college career, he missed two straight days of classes, which puzzled everyone but his parents and Lana, who explained that Clark was absent because he was ‘feeling really cold.’
He brought all the Scouts back safe and sound, and he was named ‘Official Hero’ of that particular Scout troop. Each of the girls kissed him on the cheek during the televised award presentation, and the younger adult leader brought down the house when she enthusiastically kissed Superman full on the mouth.
Lana watched the news conference with several of her female classmates, and she forced herself to join in the hysterical speculation on how to best kiss a superhero. It was the first time that Clark’s abilities and growing fame as Superman had placed a personal distance between them, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She wasn’t jealous, of course, she knew she wasn’t. She just didn’t like sharing him with anyone else for any length of time for any reason. That wasn’t jealousy, she was sure of it.
When Lana met Clark after classes the next evening, she was quiet and withdrawn. Dinner was their usual less-than-sumptuous fare at the school cafeteria, followed by a long walk around the east end of the campus, where a few semi-private areas were unofficially available to courting couples on a first-come, first-kiss basis.
“You know, the Daily Planet really liked my story.”
“Hmm? Which story was that?”
“About Superman rescuing those Girl Scouts. Mr. White told me to send anything I had to him, whether it was a Superman story or not. He likes the way I write.”
“He has good taste, Clark.”
“And so do you. Or is it that you taste good? Or maybe both?”
They’d stopped just inside an alcove they’d occupied a few days earlier, with Clark holding Lana’s hand but not her attention. He drew her into his arms and kissed her, but he was puzzled by her lack of participation. “Lana? What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think anything’s wrong, Clark?”
“Well, we aren’t taking advantage of the fresh snow on the ground to keep each other warm like we did a few days ago.”
“Stuff happens. Things change.”
He frowned. “Like what things?”
She turned and faced away from him but still held his hand. “Women kissing you during a televised nation-wide press conference.”
“Oh. That.” He leaned his cheek on the top of her head. “She was kissing Superman, Lana. She wasn’t kissing me.”
She lowered her voice so that only Clark could hear. “What’s the difference?”
“There’s a huge difference. First of all, I didn’t ask her to kiss me. She did that entirely on her own. Second, she was kissing the guy who brought her back from a very cold and very dangerous and very scary place. It was a thank-you kiss, not an I-love-you-please-live-with-me-forever kiss. Third, it’s extremely doubtful that she’ll have any future contact with Superman, ever. Fourth, and most important, I love you, Lana Lang, and I look forward to marrying you as soon as it’s feasible.”
She stood beside him for several minutes and watched the flakes of snow waft to the already white ground. “It’s hard, Clark, it’s really hard.”
“What is?”
She released his hand and crossed her arms. “Knowing you’re who you are when you’re wearing the suit and having to pretend you’re someone else, someone I don’t know at all. It’s not like I thought it would be.”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “How did you think it would be, Lana?”
“That you’d do your hero thing and come right back to me.”
“I am back here with you.”
“Yeah. But yesterday you were with her.”
He put his chin on the top of her head. “No. Clark Kent wasn’t with her at all. Superman was making a public appearance with people who were grateful to him for their lives. I was just filling up the suit for him.”
She closed her eyes. “Oh, Clark, I’m so frustrated! I had to act like all those other ditzy girls when that woman kissed you, like I’d love nothing better than to teach Superman about sex! She meant that kiss, too! You should have heard – no, it’s a good thing you didn’t hear what those nasty little – what those girls said about you.”
His voice remained gentle. “But I didn’t intend to kiss her. I certainly wasn’t expressing affection for her. I have reserved all my kisses and hugs and embraces and all my other assorted and sundry affections for you and you alone. I plan to join with you in the bonds of matrimony and stay wrapped up in them for the rest of our lives together.”
“When will that be? When will the rest of our lives begin?”
He drew her closer to him. “Right now, if that’s what you want. I’ll go to school part-time and work full-time and make us a living and you’ll become a famous archaeologist and I’ll be supremely proud of you.”
She leaned back into his embrace and chuckled sadly. “That’s a nice dream. I wish it could be real.”
“It can be. All you have to do is say the word.”
She hesitated. “You really mean it, don’t you?”
“Yes. Absolutely. I love you more than I love anyone or anything else. If it took losing the super-suit for the rest of my life to keep you, that’s what I’d do, and I’d do it without a second thought or any shred of regret.”
She turned towards him and nestled her face in his chest. “That’s wonderful to hear, darling.”
“It’s also completely true.”
“I know. And believe me, it helps.”
He tipped her face up and bussed her lips with his. “Surely you weren’t jealous of a Girl Scout leader?”
“Naw.” She put her head down again. “Well, maybe a just little teensy bit.”
He hugged her head and shoulders to him. “There’s no need to be. There’s no one else in the world with whom I’d rather be standing in the snow right now.”
She hugged him for all she was worth. “I love you. And thank you for telling me that. I feel a lot better now.”
“Glad to be of service, ma’am.”
She leaned back and eyed him sharply as sternness battled a mischievous grin. “Don’t get cocky, Kent. I could do better if I wanted to.”
“Yeah? How would you keep warm during the frigid Kansas winters?”
She pulled his face down to hers. “That’s a dumb question for someone who’s as smart as you are.”
They both enjoyed the warmth of the other’s lips for several precious moments, then Lana put her head on Clark’s chest. “You are such a wonderful man.”
“Thank you. You’re not at all bad yourself.”
She giggled, then sighed dramatically. “Darling, tell me again why we can’t find an unused motel room and use it.”
He stiffened slightly. “You know why.”
“Remind me?”
He nodded slowly. “There are two main reasons. Sex is way, way too important and personal to be reduced to the level of a handshake or a courtesy. I don’t want to be in the middle of making love to my wife and also thinking about the hot college girl I slept with several years before.”
“Unless they’re the same woman.”
He smiled. “True. But that brings to mind the second reason. If I can make babies – and I’m not even sure I can – I don’t want to unless I’m married to the woman, and I won’t marry her unless I love her like a forever-and-a-day love. I really don’t want Superman’s love children to be popping up all over the place. Wouldn’t that just complicate our lives.” He kissed the top of her head. “That help?”
She nodded. “I understand those reasons, and I actually agree with them, at least intellectually I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them.”
“Doesn’t mean I like them either. But unless you can convince me they’re wrong, we’ll both wear white to our wedding.”
Lana thought about Bob’s sixty-five percent probability prediction and kept silent. She’d just have to enjoy Clark’s company and try not to think too much about enjoying his body.
Had to be easier than, say, building a space station with just a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. But not much.
*****
The summer after their junior year, Lana scored a sweet assignment that went a long way in repairing her bent self-esteem. She was chosen for an eight-week student trip to western Africa to work on a dig where her father was heading the team. It was a wonderful time for her. She applied much that she had already learned, learned a great deal more, and spent some quality time with her father, an item which had been in short supply for many months. She also found time to submit several articles of her own to various professional journals. Her father proofread them and smilingly approved, commenting that the longer she was around Clark, the better writer she became.
Clark was able to join her for the last two weeks of her tour of duty, and he wrote and sold five different pieces about the dig itself, the site, and the team working there. It more than paid for his trip, and he was able to treat the entire student contingent to a restaurant meal on their last night before returning home. He and Lana even set a tentative wedding date in December, after the semester ended.
But the article he’d written about the people running the dig disturbed her deeply. Her father didn’t say anything, but Lana could tell that he was not flattered. Clark had been blunt, almost brutal, in his description of the treatment of the student temporaries. None of the professionals were showered with rose petals in print, but Lana felt that Clark had been especially hard on her dad.
Clark and Lana had seats next to each other for the long flight back to the USA across the Atlantic. Lana didn’t say much for the first hour or so. Clark tried to act as if he knew she was just tired, but as the flight progressed the excuse wore thin. He finally turned to confront her.
“Okay, Lana, out with it. What’s the problem?”
She looked directly at the tray table fastened to the seat in front of her. “No problem here.”
“Wrong answer. Something’s bothering you and I want to know what it is.”
“Nothing’s bothering me, Clark! Please leave me alone.”
“Nope. I want to know if I’ve done something to upset you. Maybe I’ll even feel like making it up to you.”
She turned and glared at him. “You can’t make it up to me. You – “ She turned away again. “What’s done is done, Clark. Let it alone. Please.”
“Lana, I need to know what I’ve done wrong! I don’t want to do it again, assuming that’s even possible.” He leaned closer. “Was it my buying dinner for the students?”
“What? No! That was very nice of you, Clark. The kids needed some time away from the old folks. Even my dad said so.”
He lowered his voice. “So? Was it my taking off for two nights last week? I was gone almost all the next day, too.”
She whispered back, “No! Even Nigerian princesses need to be rescued occasionally. I don’t care how rich or how beautiful she is. You did the right thing.”
“So what’s wrong? What did I do to make you so mad at me?”
She turned to face him. Always, before, when she’d looked at him, she’d felt love for him; now, for the first time, she felt white-hot anger. “You really don’t know, do you?”
Exasperated, he threw his hands in the air. “If I knew what I’d done I wouldn’t have to ask! Come on, Lana, we’ve never kept important things from each other before!”
“It was the article you wrote.”
“What? Which article?”
“The one on the team leaders.”
He scrunched his face up. She could tell he was reviewing the article in his head. He finally shrugged. “You got me. I still don’t know what I did wrong.”
“It was the way you wrote about my dad! You made him look like a – a junior-grade Napoleon or something! You made him seem power-mad and arbitrary and petty and abrupt! He’s not like that! He’s a teacher, he’s in charge, and they were being idiots!”
“Honey, you have to admit that your father runs a tight camp.”
“He has to run a tight camp! People at digs destroy artifacts and evidence all the time because they’re careless or clumsy or just downright stupid! The head of the expedition has to be strict with everybody all the time!”
“Even towards his own daughter?”
“Yes! Especially towards me! He can’t show favoritism to anyone or all the discipline falls apart! I knew what he was doing even if you didn’t! I don’t want – “ She stopped abruptly.
In an unnaturally casual tone, Clark asked, “You don’t want what, Lana?”
She pulled away and sat back. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
He nodded once. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
Neither of them spoke to the other for the duration of the flight to Metropolis International Airport. The flight was nearly endless.
What bothered Lana most was that she had very nearly told Clark she didn’t want to be around him just then. She wondered if what some of her friends had said about her eventually having to choose between her father and her husband was true. She hoped not, but feared it was so. She wondered if she was having second thoughts about the wedding. Or, she was having a hissy fit over nothing. Or, she was just tired and scared of the future. She really didn’t know which, and it frightened her.
*****
They changed planes in Metropolis. The layover was three hours. As she exited the tunnel from the plane, Lana almost walked away, but at the last minute stopped and turned to wait for him.
Clark had gotten stuck in the window seat by the crush of passengers, so he was one of the last ones off the plane. When he saw Lana waiting for him, he broke stride, then smiled and walked to her side.
“Hi.”
“Hi yourself, strange man. Come here often?”
“Just to pick up beautiful girls on their way back from archaeological dig sites in Africa.”
She smiled and bumped elbows with him. “Well, you got lucky, stud. Come on, we’ll split an overpriced airport pizza.”
They took several steps together. Lana ducked her head and muttered, “Maybe we both got lucky.”
Clark bumped her lightly with his elbow to let her know he’d heard her, as she’d known he would. “Want me to carry your stuff for you?”
She grinned up at him. “Hey, yeah, man, that would be just totally super.”
He gave her a mock glare and took her carry-on baggage. “No problem, ma’am. Comes with the service.”
They found a pasta shop with several empty tables; apparently eleven in the morning local time was early for pizza on the east coast of the U.S. Still on Africa time, Lana was ravenous. Other than the restaurant meal Clark had bought for the student crew, she hadn’t eaten American cooking for almost two months. The airline meal, of course, didn’t count.
The pizza was greasy and overpriced, the toppings were sparse and the crust was sub-par, but to Lana it was manna from heaven. She closed her eyes and savored the first few bites. Clark watched her with an indulgent smile.
Lana shuddered with delight. “Clark, if I ever tell you there’s leftover pizza in the fridge, you’ll know I’m lying.” She took another big bite. “I just love this stuff.”
Clark took a nibble from his slice. “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about gaining weight. This stuff takes the term ‘fattening’ to a whole new level.”
“That’s why I don’t eat it very often. My butt would look like the south end of a northbound bus if I made this a regular part of my diet. But mmmm, boy, it’s good!” She slurped in some stringy cheese. “This must have been the ambrosia the ancient Greeks claimed was the food of the gods!”
When she’d taken the edge off her hunger with the first two slices, she wiped her hands on a napkin and reached out to hold Clark’s wrist. “Darling, I love you. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I just – I guess I’m overprotective where my father is concerned. I’ve told you part of how my mom treated him, but not all of it, and I can’t describe how he acts when he has to deal with her for more than ten minutes. She ripped his heart out when she left, and she beats him over the head with it nearly every time she sees him.”
Clark turned to face her. “I’m sorry, too, Lana. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t understand how you’d react to my depiction of your dad. I like your dad, I respect him personally, and I think he’s a great guy. Everyone I’ve ever talked to about his professional qualifications thinks he’s at least one of the top five archaeologists in the world.
“But you have to understand that I can’t make exceptions for family and friends any more than he can. Besides, I don’t think what I wrote was out of character or deliberately mean. It was intended to be an objective view of what students go through on a dig like that. It’s tough! I don’t know if I could stick it out like you did. Maybe that article will help some young man or woman make the right decision about being or not being an archaeologist.” He smiled. “Maybe I took out some of your competition.”
She smiled back. “Maybe you did at that. I know you weren’t really going after my dad. I’m tired, I didn’t want to leave and I couldn’t wait to go back home, I was happy that you were there and irritated that you were distracting me, and I need a three-hour bubble bath followed by three days of sleep followed by another three-hour bubble bath. Do you forgive me?”
He drew her close and kissed her. “Only if you forgive me, too. I love you so very, very much.”
She embraced him and squeezed him as tightly as she could. As they separated, she looked around Clark’s shoulder and noticed a slender young woman with shoulder-length dark hair watching them. She seemed to be about Lana’s age, and because she was in jeans and sneakers, Lana assumed she was a college student. Her sad and wistful expression, combined with her slightly exotic eyes, struck Lana to the core. For a moment, she had a horrible feeling that there was something terribly wrong.
As Clark got up to refill their drinks, Lana and the woman looked into each other’s eyes. Instead of averting her gaze, Lana tried to stare her down. The dark-haired beauty returned both the gaze and the intensity. It was almost a competition between them, even though Lana didn’t understand what the contest was for, or why they were involved in it.
The young woman suddenly turned and walked away, dragging her wheeled carry-on behind her. Lana chalked it up as another win on her mental scoreboard, then drowned her momentary discomfort in pizza, bread sticks, soft drinks, and laughter with the man she loved. She dismissed the other woman from her memory.
*****
The flight to Kansas was both too short and too long for Lana. She was so very glad to be headed home, but she was also so very glad to be talking with Clark again. Two of the flight attendants said something to them about how happy they seemed together. One woman even asked if they were coming back from their honeymoon.
Lana smiled fetchingly at Clark and said, “No, not yet, but I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
Clark blushed, and Lana shared a laugh with the attendant. Then the seat belt light came on, and they reluctantly drew apart. They held hands tenderly as the plane touched down in Wichita.
Martha was waiting for both of them. They filled her in about life on a dig in Africa while waiting for their luggage. Shockingly, none of their bags were lost.
Lana leaned against Clark a little more than usual on the trip out to the Kent farm. Because it was so late in the day, they had planned for Lana to stay there the first night and head home the next day. Lana found herself contemplating sneaking up to Clark’s room after lights out, but she knew Clark would reluctantly refuse. At least, she hoped he’d be reluctant. She found herself wishing he’d sneak down to her room, even though she knew that wouldn’t happen.
At dinner, both Martha and Jonathan noticed the current flowing between Lana and Clark, and they excused themselves as soon as they could. Lana led Clark onto the familiar front porch and sat him down beside her on the swing.
They watched the stars swirl above the horizon. Lana sighed deeply and snuggled her head into Clark’s shoulder.
He stroked her hair. “You’re a little intense tonight. Anything I can do to help?”
In an instant, she made the decision she’d been contemplating all day. “Yes. You can marry me and go on a passionate honeymoon with me.”
He smiled. “I believe we set a December wedding date just a few days ago. Your dad even thought it was a good idea.”
She looked up at him. “No, not in December. I mean right now. We can still have a big wedding celebration in December if that’s what you want, but I want you to be my husband immediately, if not sooner.”
Still smiling, he asked, “Shall I call a minister or a justice of the peace?”
“Whoever’s available first. I’m past waiting, Clark. It’s time.”
He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “You’re serious. You really mean it, don’t you?”
“Yes. I want to marry you and start on the honeymoon in the next couple of days or I’m liable to burst. I want you, I need you, I love you, and I’m ready for us to be a family right now.”
He held her close. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I feel that way too.”
She pulled back. “Then why the heck didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was trying to pressure you into something you weren’t ready for. Besides, you were the one who asked me first, remember?”
She almost snapped at him, but she saw the teasing glint in his eyes just in time. “You know, you’re almost learning how to be funny.” She reached up and cupped his face. “I remember a few other things, too. This was where you told me your biggest secret.”
He kissed her gently, then again. “I remember. And you haven’t even hinted at spilling the beans to anyone, not ever.” He sighed. “You can’t know what that means to me, to know you love me enough to help me carry Superman around.”
“He’s not so bad. Besides, he’s great for food runs.” She leaned against his shoulder. “Speaking of Superman, you know what I’m in the mood for?”
“Um, French pastry?” She shook her head. “Chinese?”
“After your mom’s terrific dinner? I should say not.”
“Huh. German chocolate for dessert?”
“No, silly, not food.”
“But you mentioned food runs and – oh. Oh! Hey! I thought we agreed there’d be no nuptials until after the wedding.”
“Nuptials are the wedding, doofus.”
“Really? Now I’m going to be disappointed on our wedding night.”
She giggled. “No chance of that, farm boy, not if I’m awake. And I promise you I will be very, very awake.” She stepped closer. “Actually that’s the other thing I’m in the mood for, but for that I’m willing to wait.” She gently tapped his nose with one finger. “For a little while, anyway. But what I’m in the mood for is something else we’ve never done.”
He frowned in thought. “There’s a bunch of stuff we’ve never done, Lana. You’ll have to be a little more specific.”
She stood, turned, and sat down in his lap. “Take me flying.”
“What?”
“Flying, you know, zip-zip-zoom, up-up-and-away with no balloon, head-in-the-clouds kind of thing.”
“Oh. I thought you – I didn’t think you’d like it.”
She kissed him. “I won’t know until I try it, will I?”
He stood and carried her down the steps. “Okay, but I think I ought to change first.”
She chuckled. “That would probably be best.”
He put her down and stepped back. She’d seen him spin into costume a number of times, but it never failed to amaze her. He moved so fast she couldn’t tell what clothing was where. Two seconds later, Superman held out his arms to her. “Ready to fly?”
She jumped into his arms. “Let’s make aviation history.”
