Chapter 3
Lois watched Clark flush at her praise and felt herself warm in response.
“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “We lost forty-two to seven.”
“Thank god,” she said with a laugh. “I was beginning to think you were too perfect.”
“Yes, if only we’d won the game, I could apply for canonization.” He rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “You said you attended this conference all four years of high school. Did you always want to be a reporter?”
“Mmm, mostly,” she replied. “I always wanted to do something that could make a big difference. My dad was a doctor and my mom was a nurse. They were always trying to pressure me into a career in medicine. I liked the idea of helping people, but medicine just didn’t appeal to me. In middle school, I went through a brief phase where I was fascinated by politics and dreamed of being the first female President. I did some volunteer work on campaigns during the 1980 election cycle, but wasn’t impressed with all the schmoozing and glad handing that seemed to go hand in hand with campaigning. I couldn’t imagine having to court donors and make promises I had no intention of keeping.”
Clark nodded. “It’s frustrating that the distasteful parts of politics often discourages exactly the type of people our country could use in leadership positions from pursuing election.”
She wondered if he was talking about himself as well. “Did you ever consider a career in politics? It sounds like you would be a shoo-in for a local election. It’s not a big jump from there to the State House.”
He shook his head immediately. “I wouldn’t completely rule out something local if I felt like I could help in my community down the road. School Board or something like that. But I have no desire for a political career.”
“I don’t blame you. Once I got a taste of it, the shine of holding elected office started to feel tarnished. I hadn’t ever really considered reporting, but my freshman English teacher recommended I join the newspaper staff, and I joined on a whim. I had always enjoyed writing and it seemed like a good way to get to know the school. To my surprise, I loved it. By the time this conference rolled around in the spring, I was already pretty hooked. But after attending, I was obsessed. Something about being here… this atmosphere…”
“That’s exactly what I want for them,” Clark said quietly, tilting his head toward his students at the other end of the table. “I don’t care what career path they pick, I just want them to feel that passion. I want them to see the possibilities; imagine a different life. I want them to come home fired up to do something.”
She could see in his eyes the depth of his feelings for his students. Not just his affection for them, but the heavy burden he carried trying to build opportunities for them.
“Ten years ago, I sat in in the audience of the award ceremony on the final night of this conference and listened to Gene Hawkins talk about the Pulitzer he’d just won for his coverage of Indira Gandhi’s assassination, and I thought…I’m going to be up there someday.” She paused and tilted her head toward the students, mirroring his action. “Maybe ten years from now, one of them will be writing their speech.”
He reached over and placed his hand over hers, where it rested on the table between them, and squeezed gently. He withdrew it almost immediately, and she was surprised by both the shock of pleasure she felt at his touch and the sharp sense of loss when he pulled away.
Lana quietly excused herself to go to the restroom, and Lois knew she was giving them space and as much privacy as they could be afforded at a table of high school students.
She could only assume that meant her feelings were written all over her face, and she wrestled to get her emotions back under control. Yes, Clark Kent was handsome and intriguing, and his simple touch made her feel things she would rather not think about too carefully. If he lived in Metropolis, she would probably be grateful for Lana’s exit and hopeful that he was about to ask for her phone number or to take her out again, this time without an entourage.
But he didn’t live in Metropolis. He lived 1500 miles away in a different time zone and a different world. There was no future for them. She wasn’t interested in a conference fling, and she might be giving him too much credit, but she didn’t think he was either.
She could feel his eyes on her, and she looked up to meet his gaze. She could see her own longing mirrored there, along with something that looked like regret.
“After you attended that conference, there was no doubt in your mind about where you were going?” he asked, gently bringing them back into their conversation, and letting the moment pass unremarked on.
She swallowed back a sigh and nodded. “There was no deterring me. My father and I went a dozen rounds. It wasn’t pretty. But I was determined. I took every writing elective I could fit in my schedule, worked my way up to Editor in Chief, got accepted into the journalism school at Metropolis University, and landed a part time job as a research assistant at The Daily Planet. And the rest is history.”
“Well, thank goodness he wasn’t able to deter you,” Clark replied. “Imagine all the corruption you’ve exposed — all the criminals you’re responsible for unveiling — still going about their business as usual. Your father must be pretty embarrassed that he ever tried to steer you anywhere else.”
Lois wrinkled her nose, not really wanting to delve into her complicated relationship with her father. “Well, he’s stopped asking when I’m going to get a real job,” she said. “So I guess there’s that.”
Clark’s brow furrowed. She could see he was about to ask a follow up question, so she rushed ahead and turned the tables on him. “What about your parents? They must be thrilled to have you home.”
He smiled immediately with the kind of obvious affection she had never once felt toward any member of her family. “They are, though I think they feel a little guilty too. I’m really lucky. My parents always supported me and my ambitions. They never pressured me to stay home and take over the farm someday. They always said it was their home, their life, and that I had my own life to lead. When I got recruited by Midwest, I almost turned it down so I could go to Wichita State and live at home and commute. That way I could help out around the farm and save some money. They wouldn’t hear of it. They were so proud and bragged about it to anyone who would listen. They insisted they’d saved enough for me to go without it being a burden to them. Luckily, between football scholarships and academic scholarships, I managed to cover all my expenses. So that wasn’t an issue. And in time, I was so thankful they’d pushed me to go away to school and not stay home. They both grew up in Smallville, and they love it there, but I think my mom sometimes wonders….”
She nodded, understanding even more now why it was so important to him to give that push to his students, especially those who might not get it at home. “Did you start traveling as soon as you graduated from college?”
“Yeah, I started traveling right after high school actually. Just in the summers for a couple weeks at a time. I couldn’t be gone for long stretches because I had to work and help on the farm. But as soon as I got a taste of it, I wanted more. When I graduated, I really wanted to take a year and immerse myself in travel. My dad was a little skeptical. He wanted me to start applying for jobs while my degree was fresh. But my mom convinced him that a year of experiencing the world would help me find a better job in the long run. When the year came and went, I expected them to start pressuring me to come home and get a job, but they never did.”
“Do you think you’d still be traveling if your dad hadn’t had his heart attack?” she asked.
He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Probably not. I loved it, but I was basically living as a nomad, staying in hostels and bartering odd jobs and farm work for rented rooms. It was an incredible learning experience, but I’m almost thirty. I can’t imagine still doing it now. I think I would have traveled for another year or two, and then started applying for full time jobs. Maybe I’d have found a reporting job that stationed me abroad or required travel…but put me up in a hotel when I was out of town.”
“Going soft in your old age?” she joked, and he laughed.
“Yeah, that’s me. I’ve grown used to all the finer things in life,” he said, eyes twinkling. She tried to imagine him in a tux at one of the fancy balls she covered for work, and was surprised to find it just as easy as imagining him tossing bales of hay from the back of a wagon.
“Do you still live on the farm?” she asked, trying to shake off the distracting image of him in a tux.
He looked surprised. “No, I haven’t for years. As soon as my dad was back at full speed, and I accepted the offer to teach full time, I found a place of my own in town. I rented for a year and then my landlord decided to sell, so I bought it from him.”
“From nomad to homeowner. That’s quite a transition,” she said as Lana reappeared and slid into her seat.
“It just sort of fell into my lap,” he said. “It’s bigger than I need just for me, but I’d made a bunch of repairs while I rented, so I was a bit attached to it. When the owner decided to sell, it didn’t make sense to move and start over. So I bought it and finished the renovations.”
“Was it in need of a lot of work when you moved in?”
He nodded and grimaced. “It had been unoccupied for a few years. It needed a little updating.”
Lana scoffed and Lois turned her questioning gaze on the other woman.
“A little updating,” she parroted, and Lois could hear the air quotes. “It’s a turn of the century craftsman that no one had lived in for a decade. He restored the whole thing himself.”
She turned her attention back to him, eyebrows raised. He shrugged, but didn’t deny it. She thought back over the past few men that she had dated, and tried and failed to imagine any of them buying and fixing up a home with their own hands. The thought was laughable. And if they had done even a fraction of that work, they would have regaled her with every detail, expecting her to swoon over their accomplishments. And yet, here was Clark Kent, just shrugging it off.
The conversation turned to real estate for a few minutes, and then drifted back to the conference and the speakers scheduled for the next morning. Soon the waiter was clearing the table, and they were settling the bill. The waiter brought split checks for everyone and she saw Clark dart a glance at the small leather folio that held her bill. She slid her credit card into the pocket before he could offer to pay. This wasn’t a date, and they both needed to stay clear on that.
On the sidewalk, outside the restaurant, the students raced ahead, freed from the confines of the restaurant.
“Hey, hey! Wait up. You don’t know where you’re going,” Lana called, striding quickly to catch up with them.
Clark turned and gave her a smile that said he knew as well as she did that the kids were capable of leading them the three blocks back to the hotel.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Subtlety has never been Lana’s strong suit.
She laughed and tried not to feel like she was back in high school herself. “It’s fine. Really.”
“Thank you for coming out with us tonight. The kids aren’t the only ones who are going to remember this night for a long time.”
Her heart clenched at his admission, and for a moment she wanted desperately to believe there was a future here. “I had a really nice time,” she said finally.
They walked in silence for a minute, neither of them sure how to end this strange night.
“You ready for your big speech tomorrow?” he asked.
She thought for a moment about the speech she had prepared about the importance of journalism and the need for young writers to rise up and spread knowledge and information to the public. The need for fresh voices to hold leaders accountable; to shine a light in the shadows. She looked ahead of them, where Clark’s students jostled each other and pointed like the wide-eyed tourists they were.
“It could stand a few tweaks, but yeah, I’ll be ready,” she said finally.
“You want to practice it on me?” he asked jokingly. “I’ll be happy to tell you all the parts teenagers will make fun of.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Tempting, but no. You can wait and hear it with everyone else tomorrow.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a grin.
“They look like they’re having fun,” Lois said, gesturing to his students. The hotel loomed in front of them now, and they made their way up the palm tree lined sidewalk toward the entrance to the lobby. “How long are you staying? Will they get to do some sightseeing?”
“Oh yeah. We aren’t leaving until Sunday afternoon. They’ll have all weekend to explore the city and hit the beach. How long are you staying?”
It was a simple question, and she tried to convince herself that he was just asking to be polite, but her heart knew better.
“I’m leaving right after the dinner tomorrow. I’ve got a red eye back to Metropolis.”
He nodded quietly.
“I should have extended my trip through the weekend,” she said, infusing her voice with a note of lightness that she didn’t feel. “I’m going to be kicking myself when I’m back in the freezing slush knowing I could be laying on the beach.”
He was quiet for a minute, and she wanted desperately for him to ask her to change her flight, even though she knew that was completely ridiculous.
“I don’t think any of them have seen the ocean before,” he said finally. “So when we were planning the trip that was their top priority.”
She was quiet for a moment. “They’re really lucky to have you,” she said finally, her voice quiet and sincere. “You’re going to be that teacher they talk about all their lives. The one that made the biggest impact on them.”
They had reached the lobby now, and the automatic doors slid open to greet them.
“Thank you,” he said, and she had a feeling he wasn’t just thanking her for the compliment, but for this whole evening.
They crossed the lobby and came to a stop near the rest of their group where they clustered near the elevators.
Lana stepped away from the students, joining them. “Look,” she said, directing her comment to Clark but speaking for Lois’ benefit as well. “I’m old and boring and very excited about my hotel bed. But it’s early, and there’s absolutely no reason we both need to be in our rooms right now. I can keep an ear out for them. Go get a drink in the lobby bar or something.”
Clark started to protest, but a sharp look from Lana quieted him. He turned to Lois and raised an eyebrow. “What do you say?” he asked quietly. “Let me buy you a drink?”
She hesitated, thinking of a million reasons to say no. She should go back to her room and work on her speech. Try to forget all about him. No good could come from spending more time with this man who made her heart race just by smiling at her.
“It’s the least I can do to thank you,” he added, and this time she could hear the twinge of longing sneak into his voice, and her heart echoed its call.
She nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. He reached out and put a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. “Thank you. Give me just a minute.”
He dropped her arm and turned to face his students. He took a step toward them and got their attention, waiting until they were silent, and all eyes were on him.
“Mrs. Ross is going to take you up to your rooms. You’re expected to be in your assigned rooms all night. Remember that this trip is a privilege, and you are here representing our school. I'm not going to lecture you about appropriate behavior. You know what’s expected, and I trust you. Do not make me regret that trust. I’m not going to give a time for lights out, but keep in mind that sessions start at nine tomorrow, and we have a full day, concluding with the awards ceremony and Ms. Lane’s speech tomorrow night. You’ll want to be well rested.”
They nodded their heads solemnly, and she was struck by the way he commanded their respect, not by threatening or lecturing, but by calling on the relationship he had already built with them and invoking his trust in him. She could see in their faces the eagerness to please him, and she thought about his comment earlier at dinner, that they would live up to or down to whatever expectations were set for them.
The elevator door dinged, and he nodded his dismissal, before tilting his head in her direction. Instantly she was met with a chorus of thanks for having dinner with them that evening and having taken the time to talk with them. She smiled at them and thanked them in return as they climbed aboard the elevator.
When the doors had closed, Clark turned to her.
“A drink?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. They began walking toward the hotel bar, located just across the lobby, and the silence between them felt comfortable, not heavy and fraught as she would have expected.
The bar was only half full, and they had no trouble spotting a high-top table for two tucked in a quiet corner. As they wound their way through the room to the table, his hand rested lightly on the small of her back, guiding her around tables and untucked chairs. It was the kind of familiar, or even possessive, touch that normally would have made her uncomfortable or wary, but she felt none of that with him. When they reached the table, he removed his hand from her back to pull out her chair, and she felt a pang of loss.
A waiter was at their table almost immediately, and Clark gestured for her to go first. She ordered a glass of red wine, and then was surprised when he ordered a Coke. She was immediately self conscious, wondering if she should have also stuck with a non-alcoholic beverage, but that feeling was quickly replaced by a wariness over the reason for his choice. Perhaps she hadn’t been far off the mark earlier when she had jokingly warned herself that he could be a drunk. Maybe he was in recovery. She thought briefly about her mother’s latest stint in rehab and cringed. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. She feared suddenly that his world travels had been missionary in nature, and she was about to be subjected to his proselytizing.
He must have registered her wariness, because a grin spread across his handsome face. “I’m working,” he said. “I know they’re upstairs, but I’m responsible for them.”
She thought about Lana calling him a Boy Scout earlier, and then realized it was more than that. He had a deep sense of responsibility for everyone around him. She saw it in the way he worried about the future of his students; in the automatic, unquestioning way he had said he had to come home when his father couldn’t run the farm; even in his lifelong friendship with the girl next door and a boy he met in kindergarten.
She couldn’t fathom that kind of personal loyalty. She barely spoke to her parents. She had lost all contact with her college roommates. She would be hard pressed even to recall the name of a kindergarten classmate.
He was so different from any man she knew. So different from her own father who had all but abandoned their family. So different from the men she had slept with she was younger, only to discover their ulterior motives in the light of day. So different even from Dan, who had been kind and fun, but a perpetual Peter Pan of a man. She looked across the table at Clark in his soft blue cotton dress shirt waiting quietly for her response, and he seemed an entirely different breed of a man than one who dressed in loud Hawaiian shirts and had a sarcastic quip for every situation.
Her eyes traveled from his shirt to the golden skin bared by his rolled up sleeves, and she wondered for a moment how someone who treated his family and friends and students with such gentle respect would treat a lover. And then she firmly pushed that thought away.
“If you weren’t on duty,” she said finally, “what would you be drinking?”
He smiled. “If you like wine, you should see my collection. When I started traveling, I’d never had anything besides Boone’s Farm, and I was sure I was a beer man.”
She laughed, imagining him around a bonfire after a football game with Boone’s Farm in a paper cup. He nodded, and she knew he knew exactly what she was picturing and was acknowledging its accuracy.
“But then I spent a summer in the Mediterranean, working my way across the region doing odd jobs on vineyards and being paid in room and board.”
She took a sip of wine and nodded for him to continue, letting him paint her a picture so rich with details she could almost close her eyes and imagine she was there too.
