Clark moused the cursor to the “send” button and emailed his latest offering to Perry. His first four stories had been drawn mostly from his eidetic memory, since setting up his office in Sam Kramer’s building had taken more time than he’d anticipated and had kept him from traveling and doing on-site research. Some of the delays were based on his short finances – he hadn’t yet transferred his checking and savings accounts from Metropolis to Smallville – but the largest block of time that week was spent on Tuesday cleaning and setting up his new office space because Rachel had insisted on helping him. She had slowed him down, not because she didn’t do a good job, but because he couldn’t finish at faster-than-normal-speed while she was there with him.
And it would have been quite rude to tell her that she’d hindered him. Besides, she was pleasant to have around, and it was nice to have a friend to help him.
He’d accepted her explanation that she wanted to repay him for his help repairing the broken wall at face value. But after thinking about that afternoon, he realized that, while she worked hard and did a good job, she often found ways to work either close to him or next him. Every time they’d bumped elbows or reached for the same thing at the same time, she’d smiled softly and backed away.
Just not very far.
To his surprise, he’d found that he enjoyed her company. She was a nice young woman with a demanding job, and she’d taken time out of her busy day to help him. He’d felt no pressure to perform a certain way or meet some undefined and unspoken expectations, and she never hinted that she thought he might be hiding something from her. She didn’t seem to expect anything from him beyond his friendship. She’d even ordered the pizza they’d shared that afternoon and refused his offer to help pay for it.
He thought about Rachel. And he surprised himself again by smiling at the thought.
He wondered for just a few microseconds what she might think about him if she knew he was also Superman, then banished all such speculation from the bounds of propriety and prudence.
*****
On Thursday at four-seventeen, Jimmy walked past Lois’ desk and slapped a folder on it without speaking to her or looking at her. She’d almost gotten used to being ignored, being isolated from the rest. It barely bothered her now that women chatting away in the ladies’ room or around the morning donuts would suddenly act as if a Cone of Silence descended on them when they saw her. The previous Tuesday, when she’d gone across the street for lunch and sat down at the same table in the crowded cafeteria with Steve Lombard and Karla Peters, neither of them had so much as acknowledged her existence.
It didn’t matter. She was strong and tough. She was Mad Dog Lane. She didn’t need a partner. She didn’t need a man in her life. And she certainly didn’t need Clark Kent by her side.
But being deliberately snubbed in the newsroom, as Jimmy had just done to her, still stung.
She’d endured two full weeks of being marginalized socially and professionally. Today was the fifteenth day since Clark had left the city. In that time he’d sent back five travel pieces, including the one she’d heard Perry tell Eduardo about this morning. The first three had been published, the fourth was scheduled to appear in Sunday’s travel section, and his articles had already generated a surprising volume of mail, both from the Postal Service and from email. The Planet’s new website, set up by Jimmy as an experiment, had also yielded a number of positive comments from readers. And Clark’s quick responses to the readers’ questions had yielded a wealth of ideas for future columns, along with a separate article in Friday’s morning edition to answer selected queries.
Lois’ articles had been praised for accuracy and attention to detail. Clark’s articles had been praised for their humanity. Lois had heard Jimmy’s “Smooth” pronouncement when Perry had mentioned the online feedback in last Tuesday’s staff meeting.
Lois refused to think about what she and Clark could have accomplished together.
The folder called to her and she opened it. As she’d hoped, Jimmy had worked his magic once more. There were names, dates, dollar amounts, and sources, enough to finish her investigation and clobber the cheap shyster who was selling newborn babies to rich parents who wanted children the “easy” way – they either didn’t want to deal with the stress and fuss of a pregnancy or couldn’t conceive naturally and were near desperation.
Perry leaned out of his office at that moment and gestured to her. “Lois? Got a minute?”
“Sure.” She grabbed a pen and a notebook as she stood.
Perry ushered her in – unusual, but not unheard of – then pointed at the chair in front of his desk. “Need to chat about that baby-selling story.”
She started talking before her rear end hit the chair. “I just got Jimmy’s research on the back end of the operation. I haven’t gone through the whole folder yet, but it looks really good. I think we’ve got this guy by the short hairs.”
Perry’s brows rose as moved behind his desk. “The ‘short hairs?’ Isn’t that a pretty colorful euphemism for you?”
She glanced away for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so, but I’m just so disgusted by this creep. He’s a very successful contract attorney, but he makes a boatload of money buying children from poor mothers with no other options and ‘brokering the adoption’—” she bent her fingers into air quotes “—to the new parents. By this time tomorrow I’ll know if he’s been reporting that income to the IRS and whether or not his two ex-wives know about it. I don’t think they do. I’m going to make him miserable and broke.”
He nodded and sat in his chair. “Sounds like you have a good handle on this thing. What about the biological mothers?”
She frowned at him. “What about them?”
“You didn’t mention any of them. Are you including them in the story?”
“Only by inference. I doubt any of them would want the publicity.”
Perry nodded again. “Probably not. But have you thought about adding a sidebar, or even another story, written from their point of view? Successful lawyer comes into a young woman’s life just before she has a baby she can’t afford to take care of. He offers her free medical care, both pre-natal and post-natal, if she allows her unborn child to be adopted through his office. He’ll take care of all the legal stuff, make sure the baby has good parents, and the mom gets a cash payment for her trouble. She and the baby are both victims. That about sums it up, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but that’s not the story. The angle is that he short-changed everyone in those deals and committed fraud doing it.”
“I know. But he wasn’t the only one involved.”
“Perry, this guy victimized everybody in this scheme! The adoptive parents paid him in the upper five figures for one kid and they thought everything was legal and aboveboard! They didn’t know where he found the kids! They never knew he was cheating everyone involved and playing both ends against the middle! Compared to what he charged the adopting parents, the mothers got pennies! I’m taking this jerk down hard!”
“I understand your anger. It’s justified. And you’re right, he does need to go down. But I don’t want you to forget about the people in the story.”
She lurched forward and shook her head sharply. “I’m not forgetting anyone! I know those kids had to come from someone’s womb! I know some woman went through agony to give birth to each one! And when I’m through with him he’ll never be able to do it again!”
“Good. Take him down hard. Help the cops and the DA’s office pin him to the wall. Go after this piece of dirt with everything you have.”
She paused and blinked, then quietly said, “I – don’t understand what the problem is. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Yes, but you’re leaving out the human angle. I’ve seen your rough drafts, Lois. They’re factual, they’re arranged logically, they’re hard-hitting, and he’ll wish you’d never heard his name when the courts are done with him. And when you add in the additional facts and interviews coming from Jimmy’s latest research, there are people who will want to tar and feather him, then run him out of town on a rail. Assuming they don’t lynch him.” Perry’s voice dropped a register and he frowned. “But I haven’t seen much from you about the innocents involved.”
She blinked a few more times, then quietly said, “I still don’t understand.”
He sighed. “A month ago we would not have had this conversation. This story would have come to my desk with all the anger and passion for justice you’re showing now. But it also would have had some heart.” He leaned forward. “You don’t want to hear this, I know, but it would have been—”
She jerked in place. “No! Don’t say it!”
“I have to, honey.”
“Please! No!”
“Listen to me, Lois. This story is worthy of a Kerth nomination, maybe even a Meriweather. But it’s sterile. It’s all facts and figures. It might have been considered for a Pulitzer Prize if you’d written it with Clark.” He shook his head. “It definitely would have been even better than it is.”
“There are two church-based pro-life groups involved with the birth moms! They’re helping them find jobs, get apartments, teaching them life skills! And they’re working with the courts to decide if the babies should stay with the adoptive parents or go back to the biological mothers! All that’s in my latest draft!”
“I know. And it’s good that you give them that much attention. But Clark would have made that part sing. People would’ve cried on that section. You know it as well as I do.”
She lurched to her feet, determined to hear nothing more about the betrayer, the liar, the Kent. “He’s been gone for two weeks and he’s not coming back! Not if he wants to keep his big fat hairy secret!”
Perry didn’t react to her actions or her volume. “I know that, Lois. I’m not saying that he’s coming back. I’m just pointing out to you that you’re experiencing some of the collateral effects of your decision.” He stood slowly and sighed again. “You’re a good reporter and a good writer. You’re valuable to the paper and to the newsroom. But without Clark, your writing is cold and distant. It lacks the humanity your joint work showed me.”
“I thought you said it was good!”
“It is good. But you’re writing like you’re angry.”
“Of course I’m still angry! Can you blame me?!”
“I understand that you’re angry, but you don’t have to write like it. Clark balanced you, gentled your prose, made the people behind the stories come alive to the readers. This is going to be an outstanding story, but it’s also going to read like a TV police procedural script, all head and no heart.”
Her voice dropped a register and fell in volume. “Then that’s the way it’s going to be. I’m not changing a word my story unless you order me to. Now unless you have some more philosophy to share, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s all. Go on back to work.”
She spun and put her hand on the doorknob and Perry said, “We got Clark’s latest article a little while ago.”
She froze in place. “That’s nice.”
“It’s at least as good as the one about South Dakota he sent in last week.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Still she didn’t turn.
After a long slow breath, she said, “I’m going now, assuming you don’t have anything else to tell me.”
“That’s it. For real this time.”
“Good.”
Lois forced herself to slow down and not reveal her agitation. The doorknob turned slowly in her hand. The door swung open gently. Her shoes tapped softly against the tile floor of the newsroom. Her chair slipped almost silently from her desk. She sat down and quietly slid her knees under the desk.
Deep in the center of her mind, where her body didn’t reflect it, she screamed.
*****
Clark had just sat down in his office on Friday morning – he still got a kick out of having a whole office all to himself – when someone knocked. “Come in,” he called out.
The door opened and Sam Kramer, the building’s owner, leaned in. “You got a minute, Mr. Kent?”
Clark smiled. “It’s just ‘Clark,’ Mr. Kramer. You say ‘Mr. Kent’ and I start looking around for my dad.”
Sam smiled back and stepped in. “Of course, Clark. And I’m just Sam. I wanted to make sure you were happy with the office.”
“I’m very happy with it. This suits my needs completely. And I had to stop taking over my mother’s dinner table.”
Sam chuckled, then waved at the top of the file cabinet to Clark’s left. “I see you already have your own coffee maker.”
“I’m too used to having the go-juice handy. And the stuff this one brews tastes just fine. Besides, I needed the file drawers for more than just holding up the coffee maker.”
“Good, good. Have you met any of your fellow office tenants? All five spaces on the first floor are occupied, but you’re up here on the second floor alone except for Jane Clemens. She runs a typing and copying service. She does pretty steady trade for a few of the business folks in town, and she has a lot of clients from the high school and community college during semesters.”
“I’ve waved at and said ‘Howdy’ to four or five people, but I haven’t actually met any of them yet.”
Sam nodded. “We’ll have to fix that. The other reason I came up was to invite you to the mixer I’m hosting at the VA Post tomorrow night. It starts at six-thirty and there’s no admission charge. We’ve got fresh fish from the reservoir, bass and trout, I think, some home-made desserts, cornbread muffins, fried hush puppies, your mom’s apple pie, your dad’s special chili, and – what else? Oh, right! One of the hunters is bringing in some quail from his private freezer. And we’ll have a contribution box for former sheriff Mark Harris to defray some of his medical expenses. All the rest of the tenants have said they’d be there.”
Clark smiled. “It sounds like you’re inviting the whole town.”
“Just about. I can’t get Sheriff Rachel to commit, though. I think we’d fill up that box if she’d come.” Sam shuffled his feet a little. “Um – I don’t want to ask you something I shouldn’t, but I know you found out about this office through her, and since you know her personally, do you think she’d come if you were her escort?”
Clark leaned back in surprise. “Ah. Well. I – uh – I don’t know. Tell you what, though, I’ll call her and see if I can get her to attend. Six-thirty, you said?”
Sam smiled and nodded. “That’s it.”
“You know that Saturday is usually a busy day for law enforcement around here.”
“Yes, but I also know that our fair sheriff has got a lot of the so-called tough guys around here buffaloed since she arrested Bobby Clanton and smashed his head through a wall. Like to broke his neck.”
Clark snorted. “I presume that’s Bobby’s version?”
“Yep. And she gets meaner, stronger, and more lethal every time he tells it.”
Clark laughed aloud. “I’ll be there, Sam. And I’ll see if I can get Rachel to come. But I can’t promise anything. She’s still taking care of her parents, too.”
“That has to come first, of course, but if she can put in an appearance – whether in uniform or not – I think it would be a big boost to the donation box.”
“I don’t know. I doubt she’d come just to get money.”
“Then don’t tell her about it. I haven’t. If she already knows, fine, but if not she’ll be properly surprised. I can’t believe anyone would think ill of her coming, especially since she wrapped up that rustling investigation so quickly.”
“Yes, that’s – true.” Clark’s voice trailed off and he looked away for a moment. Then his eyes widened and he grabbed a pencil and started making notes.
After a he scribbled a couple of line, he looked up and said, “I’ll call her, Sam. And I’ll get her there if I can. And you’ve given me a terrific angle for an upcoming column, one I should’ve thought of myself.”
Kramer smiled. “You’re gonna tell those East Coast bluenoses about our amazing sheriff, aren’t you?”
Clark smiled back. “I certainly am. And let me call her while I’m thinking about your little get-together tomorrow night.”
Kramer nodded and stood. “I’ll get out of your way, then. See you in tomorrow evening. And bring your dancing shoes! There are some young ladies who’ll want to trip the light fantastic with you.”
“Sounds good. I’ll do my best not to actually trip any of them.”
“As long as you catch them before they hit the floor, I don’t know that they’d mind so much.”
*****
It was exactly six-fifteen on Saturday evening. Rachel paused by Denise Howard’s desk and said, “I’m out for the evening at that mixer at the VA post unless something big blows up. Tommy has the primary coverage tonight. Should be lighter than last weekend since we still got most o’ those clowns locked up or out on bail.”
Denise smiled. “Good. It’s about time you took some time for yourself. And I’m glad you’re wearing your dark red dress. It complements your figure and it won’t flare out too much when you get to dancing.”
“Thanks. Hadn’t had a chance to wear it in a while. Wasn’t sure it still fit right.”
“It fits you just fine. I’d bet Clark smiles when he sees you.”
Rachel shrugged. Denise’s praise made her uncomfortable. “This is as much a working date for Clark and me as it is a real social occasion. He wants to interview me about them cattle rustlers.”
“Uh-huh. Interview you. About the rustlers.”
Rachel frowned at the older woman. “C’mon, Denise. It ain’t like we’re plannin’ to elope or nothin’. Me and Clark’s just friends.”
“You forget that I was in your office when he called you yesterday. You were all business when you picked up the phone, but as soon as you heard that young man’s voice you perked up like you’d just drunk a quart of espresso. And I heard enough of what he said to you to know that he seems like a very open, sincere, honest man.”
“That’s exactly what he is. Don’t start bad-mouthin’ him, okay?”
Denise shook her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I just want you to remember that he’s just had his heart broken and you don’t need to be the one to glue it back together.”
“Aw, Denise, you—”
“I mean it! I’m coming around to thinking that he’s exactly what he seems to be, a really nice guy. Maisie told me yesterday that Clark is one of the rare ones where what you see is what you get. That doesn’t mean that I’m going to start dating him.”
Rachel huffed and silently counted to five before calmly saying, “I ain’t datin’ him neither. We’re just going to a mixer that Mr. Kramer’s hosting. There ain’t gonna be no sneakin’ around the lake to watch the submarine races.”
Denise stared. “You – you don’t mean you still call it that, do you? That’s what my parents told me not to do when I was younger than you are!”
Rachel grinned. “I dunno what the kids call it nowadays. I just knew you’d know the term. My daddy told my momma last night that when he gets to feelin’ up to it, he’s gonna take her out to watch the submarine races.”
Denise tried and failed to stifle a laugh. “Hah – and – ha-ha – and what did your – your mom say?”
“That she’d go with him if they could find a sitter for me.”
Denise’s guffaw exploded into the office. One of the prisoners still in the cells lifted his head and croaked, “Hey! Can’t a citizen get some sleep around here?”
Rachel turned her head and barked, “You wanna sleep, then don’t get yourself arrested for bein’ stupid!”
Denise held her hand over her mouth as her shoulders bounced with mirth. Rachel shook her head at the older woman and said, “I better go before I get you in worse trouble.”
*****
Clark’s gallant offer to drive Rachel from the station to the get-together just down the road made her smile. It also made her accept. She didn’t quite want to call the seven-minute ride to the VA post a date, but it sure felt like one, what with Clark walking her to the truck, opening the door for her, handing her in, and closing her door.
Then he got in the driver’s side and smiled. “You look – well, you’re beautiful tonight, Rachel. Not that you’re not always attractive, you are, but – it just seems like you’re extra eye-catching tonight.”
She smiled back. “It’s the dress. This is just about my best casual dress, and I wanted to look nice tonight. Can’t have the sheriff lookin’ frumpy at a social event.”
“It’s not just the dress. It’s you.”
The compliment made her unaccountably shy for a moment. “Ah – yeah. Thank you.” She adjusted her seat belt and said, “I ain’t felt this pretty since I went to the prom with you.”
He chuckled, then buckled up and started the truck. “I never told you how nervous I was that night. I wanted to make a good impression on your parents.”
She almost reached out and touched his hand, but held back at the last moment. “You did. Daddy said you were the nicest boy I ever went out with.” She shook her head at the sudden memory. “He also said you were the only one he didn’t think he needed to threaten to make sure I got home on time.”
He checked for traffic, then shifted into Drive and pulled into the street. “My parents would’ve had conniption fits if I’d kept you out too late. Never mind your folks.”
“Yeah. Daddy said one of the reasons he trusted you with his little girl was because he knew Jonathan pretty well. Said no man as fine as Jonathan Kent would ever have a son who misbehaved with a girl.”
“I thank you for the compliment, and I will pass it on to my dad.”
She smiled and looked through the windshield. She’d been nervous the night of the prom, too, but she’d done her best to hide it. She must’ve done a good job, since no one had ever called her on it.
A comfortable quiet wafted into the front seat and stayed for most of the brief drive. As the VA building came into view, the other reason she was with Clark came to her mind. “Hey, you want to interview me about that rustling case now or wait a bit?”
He tapped the steering wheel with the first two fingers of his right hand, then said, “We’d better wait. There’s something I didn’t tell you about tonight, and I don’t think you know it yet.”
“What, you’re going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom? Doubt you’d get much.”
He smiled as he parked the truck in the lot outside the VA post. Lotta cars here tonight, she thought. Wonder what else is goin’ on here.
He broke in on her wondering. “You say that now, but you might be surprised at what I could ask for. Mr. Kramer told me this was a get-together mostly for the tenants in his rental offices, but he also said that there are a bunch of people coming to donate to the Mark Harris get-well fund.”
Her mouth slipped open and her head turned slowly in his direction. After a long moment, she managed, “The – they – what?”
“Mr. Kramer wasn’t sure you’d come if you knew. He wants it to be a surprise, so please don’t let on that I spilled the beans.”
Well. This was unexpected. She hadn’t been surprised by all the food the family had received, nor the good wishes expressed and prayers offered for her father’s recovery. Nor had the favors people had done for them, like mowing their lawn and doing their laundry and making sure the garbage was ready for pickup. She’d been thankful, of course, but not surprised, given the community in which they lived.
This, though, startled her. Rachel hadn’t seen any of the medical bills – the hospital was still counting the costs – but even with insurance and their savings, this accident would put a hole in her parents’ budget an outlaw biker gang could roar through. Her folks hadn’t mentioned it to her, either, probably because they didn’t want to worry her. She still felt the weight of the financial burden, even if she wasn’t the primary payer.
She suddenly realized her cheeks were wet. She felt, rather than saw, Clark turn off the truck’s motor. She dashed at her eyes and found a kerchief beside her cheek.
It was Clark’s. He was still a gentleman.
He dabbed at her left eye, then let her take it. She bent over and soaked the hankie but good. He’d have to wring the water out before he put it back in his pocket.
After a minute or so, he scooted over on the bench seat and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Rach,” he almost whispered, “but I didn’t want you to go in there unprepared. That wouldn’t be a nice thing for me to do to you. And you know I won’t say a word to anyone that Smallville has a sheriff with the tenderest heart in this part of the state.”
She blew her nose and shook her head. “I think – Bobby Clanton would argue with you.”
She felt his smile grow. “He’s the one whose face made the hole in the wall that we fixed last week, isn’t he?”
“Yep. Don’t think he’d believe I got a tender bone in my body.”
“I know that you do.”
Then he pulled her close and hugged her.
The hug surprised her, but only for a second. It was a good-friend hug, not an I-love-you hug, but she didn’t care. It was a hug from Clark and she’d cherish the memory for a long time.
After too brief a time, he relaxed and pulled back. She fought off the urge to tighten her grip and instead released him. “Are you ready to go in?” he asked.
“You got a little mirror on the back of the sun visor?”
“Driver’s side and passenger side both. They’re illuminated, too.” She lifted an eyebrow and he added, “This truck came with the deluxe option package.”
They shared a quiet chuckle, then Rachel pulled down the passenger side visor. “Soon’s I fix my makeup I’ll be ready. Can’t show up at this shindig lookin’ like a racoon. Not with all them people in there.” She pulled a small makeup kit out of her purse and opened it. “Wondered why there was so many cars in the lot. Figured there was some kind o’ meetin’ goin’ on I didn’t hear about.”
He touched her shoulder. “You look great. You always do.”
She gave him a warm smile, then returned to her facial repairs. This was not the time to fall into his arms and declare her undying devotion to him.
She’d save that for the second date.
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