Clark eased down the gravel driveway, his truck bumping along gently as they approached the white farmhouse. His hand rested on Lois’ leg, her hand covering his. She had been stroking his hand gently during the fifteen minute ride from his house to the farm, but she stilled when he pointed out their mailbox ahead, and she had barely moved since.
“Hey,” he said softly, and she turned to face him, her mouth set in a tight line. “What are you worried about? I told you, my mom loves you. Yesterday was great.”
She nodded and turned to look back out the window. It was so strange to see her nervous when she was usually so fearless. He stroked her leg gently with his thumb, slowing the truck to a stop beside his dad’s ancient red pickup.
He let the truck idle for a minute, not wanting to rush her, and she turned to look at him questioningly.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded, looking more resolved. He flipped his hand over underneath hers, threading their fingers together and then lifting her hand to his mouth for a kiss.
“I’ve never brought anyone home to meet my parents,” she said softly. “I don’t mean just past boyfriends; I never brought any friends home either. My parents are…difficult. My mom was so unpredictable when she was drinking. And they’re both so critical. I could never trust them to be kind to anyone I brought home. I could never trust them not to embarrass me.”
He took a deep breath, understanding better her trepidation.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he said softly, kissing her hand again. “I’m sorry that you don’t have the parents you deserve. And I’m sorry that was your experience.”
She shifted in her seat, turning to face him. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “Meet your parents. I want them to like me. I don’t know how to make people like me. I’ve spent my whole life trying not to care if people like me.”
He shifted toward her, reaching to stroke her cheek. “You don’t have to do anything other than just be yourself, I promise. They already like you. When my mom called today to tell me dinner was six, she was practically gushing about how great it was to meet you yesterday.”
He could feel her relaxing, and he leaned forward, kissing her gently.
“Lois, my parents love to host. Especially my mom. They always wanted a house full of kids. Pete and Lana practically grew up here. And they loved when I would bring other friends home,” he said, hesitating a moment before continuing. “But I’ve never brought anyone home to meet them like this, not someone so … special to me. They’ve been waiting a long time for this. They see how happy you make me. They see how much I care about you. They aren’t going to be looking for reasons not to like you. They’re nervous too, and want you to like them.”
She nodded, exhaling shakily. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Let’s go inside and say hi. Then I’ll show you around a little bit and we can have some time just for the two of us before dinner.”
She nodded eagerly, and he smiled at her.
He exited the driver’s side, and circled the car, holding her door for her as she slid out. He reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze.
They walked across the driveway, following the front walk to the porch. “This house has been in my family for three generations,” he said. “My dad grew up here, and his dad before him.”
She looked over at him, clearly surprised, and he went on as they climbed the steps onto the porch. “My grandfather almost lost it during the Great Depression. But it was all he had left of his parents, and he managed to hold onto it.”
“That’s incredible,” she said. “So much history in this house.”
Clark nodded as he opened the door and ushered her in. “Mom! Dad! We’re here!” he called, closing the door behind them.
Martha came flying into the living room, and hugged Lois immediately. “Oh, we’re so glad you’re here! I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve been cooking all day. Do you like wine? I just opened a bottle. It’s one that Clark brought back from one of his travels. I can’t remember where. Argentina, maybe?”
“Hi, Mom,” Clark said, faux petulant. “I like wine.”
Lois turned to him smiling, and he winked at her. Her smile spread, and he could see her relaxing.
“Oh, you hush,” his mother said. “I know what you like. And you can get your own wine.”
“I’d love a glass of wine, Mrs. Kent,” Lois said finally, and Martha turned her attention back to her, beaming.
“Martha, please,” she reminded her. “We’re not much for formalities in this house. Come in, come in. Let’s get you that wine.”
Martha led them through the living room toward the kitchen, stopping just briefly to yell upstairs. “Jonathan! Hurry up! The kids are here!”
In the kitchen, Martha had something on every burner and the oven on as well.
“Oh my goodness,” Lois said, surveying the kitchen.
Martha beamed again. “It’s nothing. I love to cook. It should all be ready soon. In the meantime…”
She turned to the counter and poured Lois a glass of red wine.
“I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble. This looks like so much. And it smells amazing in here.”
“Don’t discourage her,” Jonathan said, walking into the kitchen. “The only time I get a decent meal these days is when Clark comes to visit.”
“Oh, Jonathan,” Martha said, hitting him with a kitchen towel and smiling. “That’s not true and you know it.”
She turned to Lois and whispered conspiratorially. “It might be a little true.”
Lois laughed, and Clark reached for her automatically, resting his hand on her back. She turned her head and smiled at him, and Clark could see that she had settled in fully, her nerves evaporating in the warmth of his mother’s kitchen.
“How was the festival today?” Jonathan asked. “Anything exciting.”
“It was good,” Clark said. “We saw a bunch of friends. Did a little dancing.”
“We saw the Corn Princess competition,” Lois added, trying not to laugh.
Martha burst out laughing. “Oh, I already heard Sophie won. Ginny called me just as soon as she heard. She’s so proud she could burst. Talking about a family dynasty.”
“It was definitely a blast from the past,” Clark said.
“Did she do that ridiculous candy corn dance?” Martha asked, laughing when Clark nodded. “I remember Lana learning that dance. Do you remember, Clark? Tap dancing on my grandmother’s coffee table like it was her own personal stage.”
Clark had no memory of that day, but the scratches remained in the wood, and his mother had pointed them out enough over the years that he felt like he could close his eyes and see Lana dancing.
“Did Maggie win the cornbread bake-off?” Martha asked.
Clark nodded again, and Jonathan gave a huff of displeasure. “I still don’t see why you couldn’t enter this year,” he said.
“I told you,” Martha replied. “I was busy with my art.”
“You can’t eat art, Martha,” he grumbled, eyes twinkling.
“How long until dinner, Mom?” Clark asked. “Do we still have time for a little tour? I was just going to show Lois the yard and the barn.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’ve got at least a half hour. And I can keep it warm if it takes longer than that.
“Thanks,” he said, extending a hand to Lois. She set her half-full wine glass on the counter and took his hand, allowing him to pull her through the kitchen to the back door.
Outside, he gave her hand a little squeeze. “Feeling a little better?”
“Much,” she said immediately. “Your mom is wonderful.”
“Good,” he said, smiling. “Come look out here, and I’ll give you the lay of the land.”
They stood on the back deck, and he dropped her hand, stepping behind her, and wrapping his arms around her. In front of them lay the back yard, an acre or so surrounded by a fence, and then a large red barn.
“This yard is sort of my mom’s domain,” he said. “She designs those flower beds, and that vegetable garden over there is hers. I’m sure most of the vegetables we’ll eat tonight will be from her garden. Animals are strictly forbidden in my mother’s yard. Too many of Dad’s old hounds have dug up her garden over the years. Now they’re banished.”
Lois laughed, and he pointed at the barn.
“There’s the barn obviously. And beyond that is the pasture. If you look just past the barn, you can see the chicken coop. My mom tends the chickens. She convinced my dad to build that giant coop a few years ago, and then she did all the decorating and painting,” he said, pointing to the bright purple coop. “She has a dozen or so hens, but I think only half of them still lay. My dad grumbles about the freeloaders, but my mom says they deserve to live out their retirement years in peace.”
“Is all of this yours?” she asked, waving an arm in a wide arc.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Everything you see right now is ours. It’s 986 acres altogether.”
She turned, startled. “That’s huge.”
He chuckled. “It’s not. It’s about average.” He pointed out past the pasture. “That land isn’t farmable, so we just keep it mostly wild. There is a big stand of trees that Lana and I used to climb, and you can’t see it from here, but there’s the pond where my Dad taught me to fish. There’s a dirt road that leads back ther – that’s where I learned to drive. Then to either side of that, we have the crops. The north field is corn currently, and the south field is soybeans. Next spring we’ll reverse that. But first we’ll do winter wheat in both.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Where do Teddy and Susan live? Is that their house?”
“Yeah,” he said, when she pointed to a house in the distance, just past the north field. “Lana’s parents are just beyond them. You want to go see the barn?”
She nodded eagerly, and he released her and reached for her hand again. They strolled through the backyard, stopping to kneel down and pet a gray and white barn cat, who rolled over on her back for some love. Clark slid his glasses down surreptitiously and counted. Seven. He gave a little laugh.
“What” she asked.
Rather than answer, he took her hand and placed it on the cat’s belly. “You feel that?” he said, pressing on her fingers, palpating gently.
“Is that-?” she looked up, surprised.
He nodded. “I wonder if my dad knows. He pretends to be annoyed by the barn cats, and says he only keeps them around to keep the rodent population in check. but secretly he loves them. Especially kittens. He’s always sneaking out treats for them.”
Lois laughed and gave the cat one last scratch behind the ear before standing. She followed him into the barn, standing just inside the doorway and looking around.
The main level was filled with tractors and machinery in various states of repair. “These are my dad’s projects,” he said. “There’s always something under repair. He spends all his free time out here tinkering.”
She was looking around confused, and he paused, trying to figure out what she was thinking. “What?” he asked finally.
“Where are all the animals?”
“What animals?” he asked. “You saw the cat. The chickens are in their coop for the night. Dad usually has a dog, but Bear died a couple months ago and Dad hasn’t had the heart to replace him.”
“But…the farm animals?” she said. “Sheep? Horses? Cows? Goats?”
A slow smile spread across his face.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she said, laughing herself. “You said it was a farm, Clark. Where are the farm animals?”
He couldn’t stop the laughter. “Honey, it’s a crop farm. We grow corn and soybeans and wheat. We don’t have livestock.”
“So there are no animals?” she asked, and he could see her reevaluating every children’s picture book she had ever read.
“Not right now,” he said. “When I was a kid, we had a few goats for a while – my mom had this idea to make soaps and cheese from their milk. That was…short lived. And I raised something every year for 4H. A litter of piglets once. A goat. A sheep. Rabbits. But those were projects. Not part of the farm.”
“Huh,” she said, looking around.
“Are you disappointed?” he asked, trying hard not to laugh.
“No,” she said. “Just…surprised. Though I was sort of hoping for some cute lambs or something.”
“Lois, it’s not remotely lambing season, even if we did have livestock,” he said, losing his battle not to laugh.
She scowled at him, and he laughed harder, reaching for her. “We’ll come back in a couple months and you can cuddle the kittens.”
She slid her arms around his neck, and gave in, laughing with him. He dipped his head and kissed her, so unbearably happy.
“Promise?” she said.
“To let you pet the kittens?” he asked.
“That I can come back in a couple months,” she clarified softly.
His heart stopped for a second, and he took a steadying breath. “Yes,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I want you to come back so badly. As soon as you can. I’ll come to you for Fall Break next month, and then you’ll come here in November?”
She nodded solemnly, and he tightened his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair.
This was his chance, he realized, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
"Lois, I just wanted to say…I’m so happy you came this weekend. I’ve had such an amazing time with you.”
“Me too,” she said, pulling back so she could look at him. “I’m so glad I came. I’m so glad we got to have this; to spend this time together."
He hesitated, the words bursting to come out, but not knowing if he should let them. “Look…I know you may not be there yet, and that’s ok, I don’t want to pressure you…but I’m not seeing anyone else, not dating anyone else. And I don’t intend to, not as long as you’re in my life. And I just wanted you to know that.”
Her smile lit up her face. “I’m not seeing anyone else either, Clark.”
His heart soared. “I know we still have things to work out. We still live a thousand miles apart, and we can’t see each other every day like I wish we could. But…do you think…if we’re both on the same page ….”
Lois’ eyes looked a little misty, even as she gave a little laugh. “Clark, are you asking me to go steady?”
He chuckled. “I guess I am. If you’re willing.”
She grinned and stroked the back of his neck. “Well, everyone in Smallville has been calling me your girl…so we might as well make it official.”
Clark grinned with her, hugging her tightly even as he double checked to make sure his feet were still firmly on the ground. “I have my class ring back at the house if you really want to make it official,” he teased. “You can wear it on a chain around your neck.”
She was still laughing as their lips met in a sweet kiss. “I can see it now, I’ll walk into the newsroom wearing your varsity jacket. Everyone will be so jealous.”
“As they should be! The Smallville Tigers have gone to State two out of the last three years, after all.”
“And my boyfriend is the coach! He’s practically famous.”
Clark felt like his heart would explode with joy. “Oh, I like hearing that. I like being your boyfriend.” He lifted a hand to gently cup her cheek. “Lois, I am over the moon for you. I’ve never felt this way before, about anyone."
She turned her head to press a gentle kiss into his palm. “I feel the same. I don’t know how it happened. Five months ago, I would have said this was the last thing I had time for. But I’ve definitely fallen for you, farm boy.”
He kissed her again, happier than he could ever remember being in his life. He stroked her cheek, and then her arm, wishing he could kiss her all night without stopping.
He pulled away finally, gazing at her. She was looking up at him with such tenderness that he couldn’t resist a final, gentle kiss.
He wanted to tell her how happy she made him, how completely overwhelmed he was by her. But he couldn’t find the words.
She smiled and nodded, and he knew she was thinking her own variation of that theme.
“We should get back inside,” she said finally. “Dinner is probably ready.”
“Dinner can wait,” he teased, lowering his lips to hers.
She kissed him quickly, then pulled away laughing and shaking her head. “No way. My first official act as your girlfriend is not going to be making us late to dinner with your parents because we were making out in the barn.”
He laughed, delighted to hear her refer to herself as his girlfriend.
“Fair enough. Will you make out with me when we get back to my house?” he asked, still laughing.
“Play your cards right, and that’s a distinct possibility,” she said, slipping her hand into his and tugging him toward the barn door.
****
Back in the kitchen, Martha was pulling a pie from the oven and placing it on a cooling rack while Jonathan set the table.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Lois asked, looking a bit overwhelmed as Martha began transferring food into serving dishes.
“Don’t you dare,” his mother said, shooing them toward the table. “You’re our guest. Go sit. Food will be on the table in just a minute.
Clark retrieved their wine glasses from the counter and handed Lois hers, then tilted his head toward the table. “She’s not kidding,” he said. “The most helpful thing we can do at this point is stay out of her way.”
Lois laughed, but followed him to the small kitchen table, where he pulled out her chair for her and then sat beside her. Jonathan helped Martha ferry the bowls and platters to the table, and in no time, they were all seated admiring the feast.
Clark smiled at the spread, seeing it for what it was – his mother’s way of dealing with her own nerves as she prepared to host Lois for the first time.
They praised each of the dishes as they passed them around, heaping their plates with roasted chicken, fluffy homemade rolls, creamy mashed potatoes with gravy, a corn casserole, and sauteed green beans. Jonathan lifted the lid from the last serving dish and hesitated, his brow furrowed.
“Martha?” he said slowly. “What in the world did you do to these carrots?”
“It’s roasted carrots and beets in a honey balsamic glaze,” she said primly. There was a marked silence for a moment as Jonathan and Clark exchanged a look.
“A what?” Jonathan said, clearly baffled, as he scooped a tiny helping onto his plate. “You put honey on the carrots?”
“I got the recipe from a magazine. Apparently balsamic glazes are very popular in fine dining right now. I bet they’re everywhere in Metropolis.”
All eyes were on Lois as Jonathan passed her the dish.
“Oh, uh, I really wouldn’t know,” Lois said, flustered. “I mainly survive on frozen dinners and Chinese take out. But these look amazing!”
She scooped a heaping spoonful onto her plate and passed the dish to Clark, who was avoiding eye contact with his mother and trying not to burst out laughing.
“So,” Martha said, when they had finished serving themselves. “You don’t do much cooking, Lois?”
“No,” she said hesitantly, shooting him a look that said she hoped this wasn’t going to be the first strike against her. “I work a lot and live alone, so…. Honestly, I eat most of my meals at work. Whatever I can get delivered or scrounge out of the vending machines. When I am home, it doesn’t seem worth the effort to cook for myself.”
“Well, that certainly makes sense,” Martha said amicably, and Lois visibly relaxed. “Honestly even just cooking for two can seem like more trouble than it’s worth sometimes. As Jonathan so kindly pointed out earlier, I tend to save most of my more labor intensive meals for nights when Clark will be here or when we have guests. When it’s just us, we eat a lot of leftovers and quick meals.”
Lois smiled, and Clark grinned at her, hoping she was starting to believe him that his parents were not looking for reasons to dislike her.
“What about when you do have free time?” Martha asked. “What do you do then?”
“For meals?” Lois asked, obviously confused.
“No,” Matha said with a warm laugh. “For fun. Surely you don’t work all the time. I don’t imagine you spend what little free time you have cooking. How do you spend it?”
“Oh! I…I read a lot. And I spend a lot of time at the gym and my dojo. I study taekwondo, and I like to run.”
Clark smirked, and she glared at him. The glare pushed him over the edge, and he started laughing.
Martha and Jonathan exchanged a confused look.
“She beat me in the 5K this morning,” Clark told them.
She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t count if you catch me and then step back and let me cross the finish line first. Next time, I’m going to beat you fair and square.”
“Bring it,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
“You ran with the team?” Martha said, a note of surprise edging into her voice.
Clark chuckled again. “She smoked them. And now I think half of them are in love with her. So that should keep things interesting.”
Lois laughed and shook her head. “He’s exaggerating on both fronts.”
“Travis Culpepper outright said he was in love with her,” he countered.
“Travis was just stunned to meet a girl who knows what a passing route is,” she said skeptically.
Clark shrugged, conceding the truth in that statement.
“Are you a fan of football?” Jonathan asked, wading into the conversation finally.
Lois nodded enthusiastically. “I love football,” she said. “I love most sports. But I’ve always been partial to football.”
“She thinks she could do a better job coaching than me. She doesn’t think my play calls are aggressive enough,” he said, baiting her.
“That’s not what I said, and you know it!” she retorted, laughing. She gave up on trying to convince him and turned to his father. “I said one time that he relies too heavily on flat routes-”
“Which are a safe bet, but aren’t going to get us to State,” Clark mimicked, barely holding in his laughter at her faux outraged reaction.
“You asked me for my opinion,” she said. “If you are going to ask for feedback, you need to be receptive to constructive criticism.”
His mouth dropped open. “I need to be open to constructive criticism? I’ll remember that next time I offer you advice on how to fix a paragraph in your article and you throw a pencil at me!”
“I didn’t ask for your advice, thank you very much,” she responded immediately. Then she shrugged and grinned at him. “And I made the change.”
Her grin morphed into a sweet smile, and he wanted so badly to kiss her. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head, and he knew she could read that desire in his eyes. She tore her gaze from his reluctantly and turned back to Jonathan.
“Did you play football?” she asked his father, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a smile when he reached out and stroked her arm. “Is that how Clark wound up playing?”
Jonathan nodded. “I did my time in a Tigers uniform,” he confirmed.
“Oh, he was just so handsome in his jersey,” Martha said.
Jonathan rolled his eyes affectionately. “I was never a quarterback though. I was a tight end.”
“Yes, he was,” Martha said suggestively.
Clark immediately shot her a horrified look and exclaimed, “Mom!” at the same time Jonathan muttered an exasperated, “Martha.”
Lois dissolved into giggles, and he turned to face her and was immediately smitten with her all over again.
“Well, he was,” Martha muttered under her breath, and Lois laughed even harder.
Clark shook his head at Lois, and she reeled in her laughter just long enough to reach out and stroke his cheek and say, “You should have seen your face!” And then she burst out laughing again.
He laughed in spite of himself and turned to face his mother expecting her to be smirking, and found her instead looking at Lois with a tenderness that surprised him.
When their laughter died down, Lois tried again to engage his father in discussing his own years on the gridiron, and he was only too happy to oblige.
“We never went to State when I played,” he said, still regretful after all these years. “But we did beat Springfield three years in a row. First and only time that has happened.”
“Springfield was Smallville’s rival back then too?” Lois asked, and Clark saw his dad’s eyebrow quirk in appreciation of the fact that she knew about the rivalry.
“We’ve been rivals since the two schools were founded. It’s one of the oldest high school rivalries in Kansas,” Jonathan replied.
“And Smallville has never beat them three years in a row since you were in high school?” Lois asked speculatively. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she turned to address him.
She didn’t say a word, just raised her eyebrows and waited.
He laughed in concession. “We’ve won the last two years. So the pressure is on; we win this year and we tie the record.”
“When is it?” she asked.
“It’s always the last regular game of the season. The week before Thanksgiving.”
“The Springfield game puts the Corn Festival to shame,” Martha said. “The whole town turns up to cheer them on. The stands are full of former players in their jerseys.”
“It sounds like a great way to end the season,” Lois said.
“And an even better way to kick off the postseason,” Clark said, winking at her.
“Don’t get cocky, farm boy,” she said with a grin, and Clark heard his mother laugh.
He reached out and covered her hand with his, squeezing gently, so unbearably happy to have her here at his parents’ kitchen table. She had settled in so thoroughly that it was hard to believe this was really the first time they had all been here like this.
She curled her fingers around his and squeezed back, then slid her hand out from under his, and picked up her fork, spearing another carrot.
Jonathan cleared his throat and Clark tensed, waiting to see what he would say next.
“So, Lois, Clark tells us you are a reporter. You met at that conference he took the kids to last spring?”
“That’s right,” Lois said. “I taught a class for the students on the first day. It was a small class with a rigorous application process. The best of the best. During the discussion portion, every other sentence was, ‘My teacher Mr. Kent says…’. Turned out, four of my forty students were from his group. I was shocked and seriously intrigued about this Mr. Kent character they seemed so fond of.”
His parents chuckled, and he smiled at her, remembering that day.
“Anyway, after class he came to pick them up, and we started talking….”
“....and never stopped.” Clark finished for her.
She smiled at him and then cocked her head to the side as if remembering something. “Did I ever tell you I checked later to see if any other schools had multiple students accepted into the Master Class?”
He shook his head, surprised for a moment that she would think to look that up, and then realizing with amusement that of course that sort of little detail would intrigue her.
“Two other schools had two students each. The rest of the kids were the only ones from their schools who made the cut.” She looked at him pointedly, but didn’t say anything else.
He nodded slowly, taking that in — both the information, and her implied praise. He so often felt inferior to her professionally. Not because of anything she said or insinuated, but just because of his own insecurity around the unexpected trajectory of his career. He saw in her career what he might have had, or be working toward, if he had stayed on the path he had set for himself. So seeing the admiration in her eyes was thrilling on multiple levels for him.
“That’s…interesting,” he said finally.
“It’s a lot more than interesting, Clark,” she said softly. She turned her attention back to his parents. “It was a big deal. For four of his students to be in my class. And it was a big deal that they won the Pacemaker.”
“You spoke at the Pacemaker award ceremony, didn’t you?” Martha asked, and Lois nodded. “Was there a reason you spoke at that instead of during one of the daytime slots?”
Lois nodded. “It’s tradition for the speaker at the award ceremony to be a recent Pulitzer winner. I assume they asked a few of us. I don’t normally attend or speak at conferences, but I attended this conference all four years in high school, so it was sentimental for me, and I agreed.”
“Clark said you won a Pulitzer for your coverage of that whole Lex Luthor thing,” Jonathan said, not quite a question.
“That must have been so exciting,” Martha added quickly. “Not just the award, but the investigation. You didn’t just write about it. You were the one who put together all the evidence.”
Lois smiled and nodded. “I was obsessed with Luthor for almost a full year. He was so slippery. Every time I thought I had him, someone else would take the fall. I had every source who had ever owed me a favor working overtime. I was running my research assistant ragged. I went undercover at least a half dozen times. Even my editor was starting to think I had lost it.”
“You went undercover?” Martha asked eagerly.
Lois nodded. “All short term on this project though. Just a couple days here or there trying to get information. I couldn’t do anything deep undercover in his organization, because Luthor knew who I was.”
“But you’ve done that in the past?” Jonathan asked. “Gone deep undercover?”
“Sure, I’ve done a few long-term undercover assignments in the past. Once I spent months undercover infiltrating a car theft ring. My research assistant taught me how to boost cars.”
“You what?” Clark said, never having heard this story before. “And how did Jimmy know how to boost cars?”
“Jimmy knows more than you would suspect about a lot of things. He’s…very helpful.”
“Yeah, I’m beginning to see that,” he said with a chuckle. “Seriously though? You stole cars?”
“Well…I kept track of everything that was stolen and turned over all the evidence to the police once I had it. It was all above board. Or…mostly above board. But yeah, sometimes to get that information you need to take down a big fish, you have to be willing to bend the law.”
“Have you done other long-term undercover investigations like that?” Martha asked.
“A few,” Lois responded. “Early in my career, I spent six months working part-time at a nursing home – evenings and weekends. I had heard rumors that the director was using it as a front to sell drugs and prescriptions. So I got a job there as a nursing assistant and spent months getting them to trust me before I was able to uncover the whole ring. It wasn’t the director after all. She was totally clueless – incompetent but not corrupt. It was a whole ring of nurses and one of the doctors.”
“You spent months working a part-time job in addition to your full-time job as part of an investigation?” Clark asked. It was no wonder she had no time for a social life and had been so insistent that she didn’t have time for a long-distance relationship.
“How did you know what you were doing?” Jonathan asked. “Did you take a class?”
“The nursing home offered on the job training,” Lois replied. “But honestly it was super entry level and easy work. And I have a pretty good grasp of basic medical terminology and patient care. My dad is a doctor and my mom was a nurse until I was born. So I grew up hearing a lot of medical discussions.”
“Is that how they met?” Martha asked.
He saw Lois pause, chewing slowly, and knew she was censoring herself for his parents’ benefit.
“Yes,” she said finally. “She was his nurse.”
The first in a long string of his nurses who her father had bedded, if not wedded, Lois had once told him in a rare moment of reflection on her childhood. Her father’s long string of infidelities, he knew, had contributed heavily to her mother’s drinking and eventually the end of their marriage.
“What happened when you finally managed to gain their trust?” he asked, steering the conversation back to the investigation, and earning himself a grateful smile.
“I recorded a bunch of conversations and took photos of the secret records they kept locked away in the nursing director’s office. Once I had the evidence, I went straight to the police. And I got the exclusive when they raided the place. Everyone involved lost their license and the lower level nurses turned state’s evidence against the leaders, so they got plea deals and the nursing director and doctor are still in prison. The judge really threw the book at them because not only were they selling drugs, but they were pilfering meds from the residents to sell, so they weren’t receiving the meds they needed.”
“That’s awful,” Martha said immediately, horrified by this revelation.
“They were really lucky that no one died because of their negligence,” Lois said, nodding her agreement.
“That must have been a really big story,” Jonathan said. “It must have gotten a lot of attention.”
“That was my first Kerth,” Lois said. “That’s an award for investigative journalism.”
“Your first?” Martha asked pointedly.
“She has four. Plus the Pulitzer,” Clark said with a grin, and he saw his dad raise his eyebrows in appreciation.
Lois set her fork down, and sat back in her chair, resting her hands in her lap. Jonathan helped himself to more potatoes and then passed the bowl to Clark.
Martha gestured to the table still laden with food. “Help yourself to more of anything,” she said.
“Oh, thank you, but I better not,” Lois said. “I saw that pie on the counter, and I heard a rumor that your pie is better than Maisie’s. I better save room if I want to find out for myself.”
Martha laughed and smiled at Clark, and he knew she was thinking of all the pie he had skipped over the last few months.
“Well,” she said, turning back to Lois. “It certainly sounds like you get a lot of excitement in Metropolis.”
Lois considered. “It’s more like moments of excitement mixed with months of drudgery and background investigations. I mean, this investigation that Clark has been helping me on…I’ve been working on it for months. We had one exciting night of going undercover at the club, but otherwise it’s been all analyzing financial documents and pointless stakeouts.”
Both his parents’ heads swiveled to face him immediately, and he fumbled to explain. “It wasn’t really…. It was nothing. Lois just wanted to go to this little club and see what was going on. We weren’t really undercover.”
Lois narrowed her eyes at him, assessing his response.
“Clark didn’t mention it to you?” she asked, turning back to his parents. “There’s been a series of arsons over the course of the last six months. Mostly warehouses, but a couple corporate headquarters too. The arsonist has a super specific MO – they’re using this torch weapon that I’ve seen before. It was used in a series of arsons two years ago, and back then, I traced the arsons to the head of the Metro Gang, who was operating out of the Metro Club. She’s in prison now, but I’m sure the weapon is the same, so I’ve been trying to locate the weapons to see if that leads to the new arsonists. And Clark has been really helpful on this investigation. Besides just letting me talk about it incessantly and never complaining, he also helped me go undercover at the club so I could figure out who’s in charge now. And it was his suggestion that I contact the original arsonists in prison and see if I could get information out of them that I couldn’t two years ago. Which was brilliant, because I totally got a new lead.”
Clark tried not to squirm in his seat, both uncomfortable with her praise and concerned about his parents’ reaction to him going undercover and helping on investigations. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but he knew they would suspect immediately that he could use his powers to assist in the investigation and would worry that could put him at risk of revealing his secret to Lois.
“I still want to hear about the chicken costume,” Clark said casually, taking another bite of potatoes.
Lois turned to him slowly, shaking her head. “I knew I never should have mentioned that.”
“You went undercover as a chicken?” Jonathan said skeptically.
“No,” Lois said, laughing. “When I was working this investigation the first time – two years ago – I went undercover in the club as a lounge singer. Part of the job requirement…was performing in group acts, including one which required a chicken costume. A…Vegas showgirl style chicken costume,” she admitted with a roll of her eyes.
He smirked, imagining her in the skimpy costume, all legs and feathers. She narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at him. “Do not say a single word.”
He raised his hands in the air, as if to declare his innocence. “I didn’t say anything.”
“But you were thinking it,” she said, and he laughed, not bothering to deny it. “That whole investigation was wild. My cover almost got blown while I was singing – thankfully not in the chicken costume. Luthor was in the audience, right down front – and this was before I was investigating him, but he definitely knew who I was. We’d had a few…interactions already by that point. I kept trying to get a one on one interview, and he was toying with me. When he saw me on stage, I’m sure he knew immediately I was undercover, and-”
Lois stopped abruptly, and Clark looked at her quizzically.
“Oh my god,” she said softly. “Oh my god!”
“What?” he asked, concerned. And then her face broke out in a brilliant smile.
“Clark! The Boss! It’s Luthor!”
He hesitated, trying to follow her logic.
“Why else would he have been there that night?” she asked, starting to warm up to the topic. “At the time, I just thought he was there because he was rich and famous and that was the Metro Club clientele. But he was definitely meeting with Toni. I remember, because when I saw them whispering, I was sure he was exposing me. I was getting ready to high tail it out of there.
“And then…nothing happened,” she said, raising her palms skyward. “He didn’t say anything. I thought…I don't know what I thought. I guess that I got lucky? That he decided it wasn’t his problem if I was investigating her? But that wasn’t it at all! Toni wasn’t the mastermind behind the Toasters. She was just another lackey taking the fall for him. This was before I started my serious investigation into him – before the heatwave – so I didn’t know to look for the pattern. But this is exactly what he does. He’s playing chess in the background, and he lets someone else take the fall. When the Toasters outlived their usefulness to him, they went to prison, and Toni went with them. And “The Boss” walked away free and clear with the weapons.”
She was on a roll now, completely oblivious to everyone and everything around her. She was on fire with this new realization, and her eyes flashed with victory while her voice was shot through with frustration that it had eluded her for so long. She looked fierce and wild and unbelievably beautiful.
“I don’t know who he’s got on the outside still doing his bidding, but I would bet my life this is Luthor. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Of course he isn’t just sitting in prison doing his time. Luthor would never stand for that. He’s still pulling the strings. All these companies being burned now…I bet you Luthor is the common denominator. I’m looking in all the wrong places. I’m trying to link them to Intergang, but it’s LexCorp I need to be looking for.”
She stopped and looked around the table suddenly, as if just realizing where she was. “Sorry,” she said softly. “That was…a lot of information.”
“You are incredible,” he said softly. “I can’t believe you just put that all together.”
“I couldn't have done it without you,” she said, smiling at him tenderly. “You asked all the right questions. I wasn’t thinking about Luthor at all. If you hadn’t told me to go back to the Toasters… If you hadn’t asked about that stupid chicken costume….”
He wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt to stay in his seat. “Do you need to…go? Make a phone call or something?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have any proof. I can’t do anything right now. I’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll go straight to the newsroom and pull all my files and start over. There’s got to be a link now that I know what I’m looking for.”
He reached out and took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and she smiled at him again. He would move heaven and earth to keep her smiling at him like that.
His father cleared his throat, and Clark turned his gaze from her to his parents, who were looking a little shell-shocked.
Lois followed his gaze, and then blushed. “Sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to….”
“Don’t you go apologizing,” Martha said, eyes sparkling. “That was delightful.”
Lois laughed, and Clark squeezed her hand.
“When you win your next Pulitzer, we’ll be able to tell everyone we were there when you put it all together,” Jonathan said, clearly under her spell now. Clark looked at him with raised eyebrows, and his father gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and Clark knew he was at least self-aware enough to realize he had been charmed by this woman he had been so wary of in the beginning.
“How about that pie?” Martha said, scooting her chair back and standing. Jonathan stood immediately, waving off additional offers of help and gathering their plates to take into the kitchen.
When they were gone, he turned in his chair, untangling his hand from hers and cupping her cheek.
“Are you sure you don’t need to make a phone call or something? It’s okay. I understand.”
“I know you do,” she said softly, and he could see her gratitude on her face. He wondered how many other men had been intimidated by her; had expected her to put her career second to them and showed their displeasure when she wouldn't. Their loss, he thought.
In the kitchen, he could hear his parents whispering. He tried to tune them out and focus on her, but snatches of dialogue still came through. “Isn’t she something?” and “Did you see the way she looks at him?” and “I’ve never seen him like this,” and “This is it, isn’t it?”
She was still looking at him the same way, and his heart couldn’t take it anymore. He lowered his lips to hers, his thumb stroking her cheek gently as his lips moved gently but surely over hers. She leaned in toward him, resting one hand on his knee, and his heart stuttered with joy and longing. He was so head over heels for this woman, and he just could not believe she felt the same way. He lost himself in her, savoring their kiss after waiting so impatiently though dinner for this moment. Her hand came up to his cheek, fingers fluttering gently against his sensitive skin and he wished desperately that they were truly alone so he could deepen the kiss.
Somewhere in the depths of his brain, he heard footsteps approaching and realized what he needed to do. Gently, he eased away, stroking her cheek one last time before sitting back upright in his seat, just in time for his parents to return. Martha carried a pie in a heavy porcelain pie dish she used only for good company, and Jonathan was at her side with a stack of dessert plates and forks.
Lois exclaimed over the cluster of strawberry-shaped crust cutouts decorating the pie, and Clark looked up expectantly at his mother.
“Is that-”
She was nodding before he could get the question out.
“What?” Lois asked, looking at him to finish his question.
“Strawberry rhubarb,” he said. “It’s my favorite. Just… Just wait and see.”
She grinned at him, and then accepted a plate with a generous slice of pie from Jonathan, who continued passing them out around the table. When everyone was served, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Lois took her first bite and then froze, closing her eyes as she swallowed.
He watched with a smile as she looked from him to his mother, her fork still hovering over her plate. “This is…. How did you…? This pie is….”
“I think she’s at a loss for words, Mom. That might be the best compliment you’ve ever received,” he teased.
Lois pointed her fork at him. “You hush,” she said. Then she turned back to his mother. “This is the best pie I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thank you,” Martha said, and Clark could see a hint of embarrassment under the pride, though this pie was famous throughout Smallville.
“The strawberries and rhubarb both come from Mom’s garden,” he told Lois, and she looked to Martha, as if for confirmation.
Martha smiled and nodded. “I usually make it in early summer when both are in season. But I always put up a few jars of filling to use throughout the year.”
“It’s a hot commodity,” Clark added. “She only cans a half dozen or so jars, so once it’s gone…it’s gone until next June.”
“You should see people fight over it at Thanksgiving,” Jonathan added. “I swear one year there was nearly a fistfight over the last piece.”
“Thanksgiving!” Martha exclaimed. “Oh, you should come for Thanksgiving. Clark, tell her. She should come for Thanksgiving!”
“Mom,” he said, surprised by her impulsivity. It was unlike her to put someone on the spot with an invitation.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, laughing at herself. “I just got excited. Have you not talked about another visit?”
He opened a hand and made an incoherent noise in response, not sure how he had so completely lost control of this conversation.
Lois put a hand on his arm to relax him and responded for him. “We have,” she said. “I can’t wait to come back – probably in November. But I couldn’t crash your family Thanksgiving. I’ll come earlier in the month.”
Jonathan snorted, and Martha laughed. “Oh, honey. Half of Smallville will turn up here for Thanksgiving. We haven’t done a small family holiday since…well, ever? We used to go to my parents for Thanksgiving back when we were first married. But after the babies were born, we started hosting here. Ginny and I coordinate everything together. It used to just be the two families, but now that the kids are all grown, it’s turned into more of an all-day open house than a traditional family meal. All the kids make an appearance with their families and lots of friends and extended family drop by. The more the merrier.”
Clark could see Lois’ brain working, and knew she was still stuck on “the babies” – wondering if there was some heretofore unmentioned sibling that she should know about.
Clark sighed heavily. “It’s what they call Lana and me,” he said.
She looked at him, confused. “Lana’s older brothers are ‘the boys’ and Lana and I are ‘the babies’,” he said, setting off the words with air quotes. “We’ve been asking them to stop calling us ‘the babies’ for more than two decades, but you can see how effective that has been.”
“Sorry,” Martha said, not sounding one bit sorry at all. “But you’ll always be our babies.”
Clark rolled his eyes, but smiled at Lois’ giggle.
“We sure would love to have you,” Martha went on. “But you probably have your own family traditions.”
He saw Lois hesitate, and realized she probably had no Thanksgiving plans. He hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but he knew she hadn’t seen most of her immediate family in years, and that included holidays. And he suspected that in the past, she had volunteered to work most holidays, covering for coworkers with young children or out of town family.
“We’ll talk about it, Mom,” he said, taking the pressure off her to answer. “I’ll let you know when she’s coming back next.”
Martha nodded, satisfied, and he took another bite of his favorite pie.
“You know…” Lois began slowly. “This whole ‘babies’ thing made me realize something. Part of what I was really looking forward to about this dinner was hearing all sorts of stories about when Clark was little. And we’ve been so busy talking about me, that I haven’t heard a single, juicy story. So, I’m dying to know…was he always this perfect, or was he a little terror?”
His mother laughed, always ready to discuss her favorite topic. “Oh, he was always a sweet boy, but he and Lana…. They could get into some serious trouble. One time they’d both been sent to bed early for snitching cookies we were making for the school bake sale. And rather than just taking their punishments and moving on, they decided to run away….”
Martha launched into one of her favorite stories, and Clark finished his pie and sat back, watching Lois listen for the first time as Martha described their terror upon finding his empty bed, their fury upon learning that Lana was missing as well, their gratitude when all of Smallville’s volunteer fire department showed up to help search the fields and forests, and their relief upon finding both children curled up together fast asleep in his treehouse, oblivious to all the trouble they had caused.
“Your poor parents,” Lois chided him when the story was over.
He shrugged and gave her an impish grin. “Hey, we just wanted some cookies. They didn’t have to banish us to our rooms.”
“Banish!” Martha scoffed, and Lois laughed again.
“Is it still out there? The treehouse?”
He nodded. “I’ll take you out to see it next time.”
Her smile widened, and he knew she liked thinking about “next time” as much as he did.
Matha looked out the back window and seemed surprised at how dark it was getting.
“What time is it?” she asked. “Are you going back to the festival for the fireworks? You probably need to get a move on if you are going to make it in time.”
Clark hesitated. That had been the plan originally – a quick dinner with his parents, and then back to the square to listen to the bands and watch the fireworks. But now that they were here and having so much fun, he didn’t want to leave. And he didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening surrounded by half the town. He was dying for some time alone with her.
He looked over at Lois, and saw his own ambivalence written all over her face. He glanced out the window at the darkening sky and suddenly had a much better idea.
“You want to skip it?” he said. “I have a better idea.”
She raised her eyebrows, intrigued.
“Trust me?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said softly.
He smiled at her and turned back to his parents. “It’s fine. We have plenty of time.”
“In that case,” Lois chimed in. “I want at least one more embarrassing childhood story.”
He laughed and scooted his chair closer to hers, reaching over to take her hand. He laced his fingers through hers, and pulled it into his lap, stroking the back of her hand with his other hand. She looked sideways at him just long enough for him to be doubly sure he had made the right call by skipping the fireworks, and then turned her attention back to his mother.
“Well,” Martha said. “If you want embarrassing, then you have to let me tell you about his first grade Christmas concert. Now, Clark has many talents, but singing has never been one of them….”
