Clark leant back against the barn wall. Was it wrong that he’d wondered if there was any chance that Lois would fall asleep on the bale?
He’d carried calves, lambs, children in his arms. But nothing and no one had left the impression that Lois Lane had.
He’d already been fascinated.
Then he’d lifted her into his arms, and it had felt as if she belonged right there.
And when she’d snuggled closer against his chest…
That was a moment he would never forget.
He laughed quietly, recalling how Lois had questioned him about whether he’d eaten his supper.
Did she – even the tiniest bit – care for him? Or was she merely parroting his mom?
Possibly neither, he accepted, as he stood, cast a final eye over Bess, switched off the lights, and headed home.
Chapter 4
Lois sped down the stairs two at a time, enticed by the delicious aroma of bacon that wafted up to meet her. Had Martha already taken Clark’s breakfast to him?
“Good morning, honey,” Martha said as Lois entered the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you,” Lois said. It was true. She had slept very well – both before and after the excursion to the barn. “Has Bess had her calf yet?”
“Not yet. Clark checked her earlier.”
“Is he on the tractor?”
“Yes. He’s doing the north-eastern fields today.”
That probably explained why Lois hadn’t been able to see the tractor when she’d looked out of the bedroom window. She scanned Martha’s pan. “Is that Clark’s breakfast?”
“No,” Martha replied. “Clark took his breakfast with him. It’s too far to take food to him.”
“Oh, OK,” Lois said, pushing aside a trickle of disappointment. “What are we doing today?”
“I have to go into Smallville after lunch,” Martha replied. “Will you be OK staying here?”
“Yes, of course,” Lois answered quickly, patting down a little flash of surprise at not being invited to accompany Martha.
“This morning, we need to can the beans and carrots.”
“Similar to yesterday?” Lois asked as she started to make herself a cup of coffee.
“Yes,” Martha said with a smile. “No need to roast them, though.”
“Hopefully I won’t need so many instructions on how to do every little thing.”
“You did fine, honey,” Martha said as she loaded up two plates and set them at the table.
They ate breakfast, talking companionably about the farm and the seasons and the weather. Again, Lois noticed how little Martha talked about people. It really did seem as if the farm was her whole world.
On the first day, Clark had said his mother would be annoyed if he didn't take Lois up to the house. And, as Lois had discovered, Martha welcomed people, including complete strangers, into her home.
But no one seemed to come. No one called.
Lois took a moment to study the older woman’s face. She looked like what she was – a kindly generous and loving lady. But the reporter in Lois was sure there was something else there, too. Something carefully concealed. Some pain or difficulty that was hidden deep.
Could she be dealing with an illness?
Was that why Clark was so concerned about her?
Maybe that was why Clark had encouraged Lois to stay – he wanted someone with his mom while he was forced to be out in the fields all day.
Being Lois, she would like to know. But she wasn’t a reporter right now. She was a guest. A guest who was grateful to Clark and Martha for many things, including that they hadn’t pressed her for answers about the disasters in her own life.
They finished breakfast, and the morning passed in a similar fashion to the previous one. The first hour was spent outside picking beans from the vines that snaked up poles in the garden and pulling bright orange carrots from the dark earth. Then, back in the kitchen, they were washed, chopped, and preserved in glass jars.
Lunch was a roast beef sandwich with salad from the garden – a hurried affair because Martha seemed impatient to get to Smallville. She’d said nothing more, giving no details, but she repeatedly checked the time, causing Lois to assume she had an appointment.
After they’d eaten, Martha went upstairs for a shower. She appeared half an hour later, dressed in a pretty floral frock and a light cardigan.
“You look lovely,” Lois said as she dried the canner.
“Thanks.” Martha motioned towards the living room. “There are books if you’d like to read,” she said. “Or perhaps a walk through the flower garden.” She smiled, but it seemed a little forced. “Just make yourself at home, honey.”
After Martha had gone, Lois wandered into the room adjacent to the kitchen. It had the feel of a display room. From the snapshot Lois had seen of the Kents’ lives, they lived outside and in the kitchen. Sitting, relaxing, and leisure seemed rare. There was a large open fireplace, so maybe this was more of a winter room.
She moved over to the bookshelf, recognising some of the titles and knowing enough of literature to realise that Martha had wide and varied interests.
The next section seemed more agricultural. She pulled out a well-read green book called The One-Straw Revolution by Masanobu Fukuoka. She flicked through the pages. There was nothing obvious to draw her to it, but it had clearly been read and referred to many times.
She took the book, stopped in the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, and wandered outside to the seat where she had shared lunch with Clark.
She sat on the log, leaned back into the trunk of the tree, drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
Somehow, she’d slipped into the world of the farm – Bess, the hay, the harvest – and it had been exactly what she had needed. It had given her time to step back from her life and the emotional maelstrom of the revelations in Metropolis. It had given her a much-needed opportunity to begin to rebalance and recover.
Jack’s delayed return had relieved the pressure to make decisions and allowed her to remain in limbo for a little longer. Clark had said she could stay as long as she wanted.
She had left Metropolis threatening never to return.
That had been anger speaking. Anger and pain at betrayal.
The anger was still there. The pain also.
But realistically, she had to return.
Didn’t she?
A week ago, she’d thought her whole life was in Metropolis – her job, her family, her man.
She’d lost all three within the space of a few hours.
What was in Metropolis to lure her back?
Nothing, she realised.
And that felt like a sharp slap to the face.
Her life so far amounted to nothing.
But if she didn’t go back to Metropolis, where would she go?
She opened her eyes and looked around.
This place was peaceful. Quiet. Ordered.
Simple. Predictable.
Clark had talked about discovering if an alternative life could be better than the one you knew.
Lois had experienced a day and a half of life on a farm.
How long could she hide in this world?
How long would it take for her to start to feel hemmed in by the routine? Constricted by the demands of the farm? How long before the need to accomplish, to do, to attain, and to progress would start to eat at the edges of her soul, infusing her with restlessness?
Maybe she should tell Martha she would leave tomorrow.
But the truth was she didn’t want to leave.
Not yet.
She wanted to see Bess’s calf. She wanted to experience more of farm life. She wanted to talk more with Clark.
And, she admitted to herself, she wanted to find out if he really was as considerate and thoughtful as he seemed.
And what of Jack?
The passing of a couple of days had given her a different perspective. She didn’t need to meet Jack Mackenzie. She certainly didn’t need the guaranteed complications of plunging into his life.
That unfortunate mess was best left alone.
If she hadn’t been so distraught, she would have known that instinctively.
Lois sipped from her coffee and picked up the book, her decision made.
She would spend one or two more days here, helping Martha however she could. Then, she would fly back to Metropolis to pack up her apartment, tie up a few loose ends, and start applying for jobs that would take her to a new life.
A life she would build for herself, relying on no one.
A life –
“Hi, Lois.”
She jumped and the book thudded on the ground. “Clark!”
“Sorry to startle you,” he said, bending low to pick up the book and sitting next to her on the log. “I didn’t realise you were so engrossed in Masanobu.”
“I… I’d barely started,” Lois said, hoping he wasn’t going to expect her to have learned anything from its pages.
He placed the book on the log between them. “Has Mom left?”
“Yes.”
“How did she seem?”
“OK,” Lois said hesitantly.
“Just OK?” There was deep concern in his eyes as they levelled in hers.
“A little quiet. And maybe a bit stressed. More so as the morning wore on.”
He nodded. “Thanks for helping her. I appreciate it more than you could realise.”
“I appreciate you taking me in, looking after me. I… I wasn’t great when I stopped at your gate.”
“I’m so glad you stopped right here,” he said with a warm smile. “Good for all of us.”
“Yeah.” She gave him a small smile. “Why aren’t you on the tractor? Another broken screw?”
“No,” he said. “I knew Mom would be in Smallville, so I thought I’d take a break and see if you’d like to come with me to the orchard to pick some apples.”
“I would like that,” Lois said. “I’ve enjoyed canning with Martha, but it’s such a beautiful day, it would be nice to spend some time outside.”
“I warn you,” he said, suddenly serious, “you’ll be making work for yourself tomorrow. Picking is just the first step.”
“Oh, I’ve learned that already.”
He flashed his rather cute smile. “Do you want to finish your coffee while I go and get the baskets?”
“No,” Lois said, realising she’d had enough of her own company. “I’ll come, too.”
Clark picked up the book, and they walked together through the garden and to the house.
~~~~
The orchard was five rows of trees, with each row containing four trees. Clark led her to the second row. “These are the apple trees,” he said. “We’ll start at this end because these are the earliest varieties. We won’t finish - the rest of them are next month’s job.”
“How do I know which ones to pick?” Lois asked. “Or do I just pick all of them?”
“Pick all from the first two trees,” Clark said. “On the third tree, gently twist the apple. If it comes off easily, it’s ready.”
Lois reached up to the nearest fruit and gave a little squeal as it dropped into her palm.
“That’s how it’s done,” Clark said with a grin.
“What do we do with the ones that have fallen?” Lois asked, looking at the fruit-littered ground around the trees.
“If they look to be in great condition, they can go in the basket.”
“If not, we just leave them there?”
“For now, yes. In about a month, we’ll let the hens in here and they’ll clean up anything we don’t take.”
“Helpful hens,” she said.
“Exactly.” Clark reached over her head. “You get the lower branches. I’ll do the higher ones.”
The work was repetitive, but neither difficult nor unpleasant. The sun shone warmly, and the breeze rustled through the leaves. Lois circled the tree, clearing the lower branches, and Clark followed, working on the higher ones.
“How is it you’re able to take time away from the hay?” she asked.
“The weather looks like holding for at least another week,” he said. “I’ve almost finished slashing. I’ll wait a few days and start the raking.”
“Are you annoyed that Jack is delayed?”
Clark didn’t answer for a time, so Lois turned to her left and looked at him. He stopped picking, faced her, and shrugged. “I’m not sure there’s much I can say to his… to Jack’s friend.”
Lois smiled at his tact. “So, you are annoyed?”
“Not annoyed.”
“Then what?”
“Concerned.”
“Why?”
“I’m concerned for Jack. I’m concerned about the reasons why he can’t get back. I’m concerned for Mom because I know she worries a lot. When Jack stopped by, asking for work, the main reason I took him on was so Mom wouldn’t be so anxious about everything getting done.”
“Did you need him? Is there too much work for you to do alone?”
Again, Clark didn’t answer immediately, and again, Lois paused to check his face. He grinned at her. “You sure do ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m a reporter,” she said automatically. She saw him regarding her thoughtfully and quickly added, “I’m not working. I’m not writing a story. I just… it’s a hard habit to break.”
“You said you like knowing everything.”
Lois nodded. “Yep. But this is just interest.” She put the apple in the basket and looked around her. “I didn’t think farm stuff would be interesting at all,” she said. “But it is.”
He smiled at that. “What were you expecting?”
She chuckled. “I was expecting I would never go onto a farm. I didn’t plan to stop at your gate. I didn’t plan to come up to your house. And I most definitely didn’t plan to stay.”
“I’m so glad you did,” he said softly.
His tone caused her heart to skip a little, and she cast another glance to his face. His concentration was on the apples, and there was nothing to suggest his words carried any deeper meaning. “Why?”
Clark stopped picking and draped his arm over a branch, facing her directly. “Mom…” He swallowed and his gaze dropped for a moment. When he looked up, there was sadness welling in those deep brown eyes. “This past year has been so difficult for Mom. I meant it when I said I’m grateful for your help but giving her some company means even more.”
“She has done so much for me,” Lois said. “You both have.”
Clark picked another couple of apples in his large hand. “Oh, and I’m concerned about you, too.”
“Me?”
“You came looking for Jack. I told you he would be here the next day. Now, we don’t know when he’ll be back. I don’t know how that affects your… your… you being so upset and all.”
Lois picked an entire mini branch of apples as she considered her response. Finally, she said, “A lot of things went horribly wrong in Metropolis. I didn’t know what to do. I had to get away. Looking for Jack seemed like a good excuse… seemed preferable to the truth.”
Clark waited for several seconds before asking, “Which was?”
“That I was running away.”
“Are you still running?”
“Nope,” she said, and wanting to drive away the melancholy atmosphere, she added, “I’m picking apples.”
He laughed, a melodious sound that somehow buried into her insides and made her feel good.
Made her realise that Clark Kent didn’t laugh enough.
Why was that?
Was it because of the pressures of the farm? Because Jack Mackenzie had been gone far longer than anticipated?
Or something else?
They had stripped two trees and made a good start on the third when the six baskets were filled.
“Leave them here, and I’ll pick them up later,” Clark said. “Are you OK to make your own way back to the house?”
“Yes, of course. Are you going back to the tractor?”
“Yes.” He checked his watch. “Should be finished before dark.”
“With enough time to check Bess?”
“Of course,” he said, smiling again. “Thanks for your help, Lois.”
“You’re welcome.”
Clark crossed to the next tree, considered the apples, chose one and picked it. He held it out to Lois. “These are the best eating apples,” he said. “Try it.”
Lois accepted it, her fingers brushing against his as she did. “Thank you.”
With another smile, he turned and walked away. Lois started back to the house, munching on the crispest, sweetest apple she had ever tasted.
~~~~
The house was quiet when Lois entered through the back door. The kitchen was empty. She picked up a tea towel and began drying the utensils they’d used for canning the beans and carrots.
She heard a sound behind her and turned. Martha was there, her eyes red and puffy.
“Martha,” Lois said, dropping the tea towel onto the table and crossing the kitchen. “What is wrong?”
“I’m not feeling well,” she said sharply. “I’m going to bed.”
“Can I do anything to help?” Lois asked, taken aback by Martha’s tone.
Her expression softened a few degrees. “Just leave me be,” she said. “I’ll be all right tomorrow.”
“I think I should leave,” Lois said. “You shouldn’t have a house guest when you’re not feeling well.”
“Don’t leave,” she said, her words midway between a request and an order.
“But – ”
“Clark will be in about seven o’clock,” Martha said. “Would you fix him some supper, please?”
Lois gulped. “Ah, yes. Yes, of course.”
“Thank you,” Martha said, sounding a little more like herself. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine tomorrow.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Lois listened to Martha’s footsteps as she climbed the stairs. She glanced around the kitchen. The canned beans and carrots were sitting in rows, but somehow, she didn’t think they were going to make Clark the sort of supper he would be expecting.
A perusal of the fridge didn’t offer any ideas.
She knew there was meat in the freezer but had no idea how long it would take to defrost. Or how to cook it.
Lois quickly climbed the stairs, took her bag from her room, and went out to her rental car.
~~~~
Clark finished slashing the last field, hauled the six baskets of apples to the corner of the orchard, and checked on Bess, who was quietly chewing her cud.
He examined the calf, both visually and with his hand on Bess’s hide.
Everything seemed fine. He felt his impatience rise a notch. His anxiety, too. He was keen to have Bess safely through the birth and the danger period that followed.
He shut in the hens for the night, collected the eggs, and walked eagerly to the house. He was looking forward to sharing a meal with the ladies and hoping that Lois’s presence would make everything easier.
His mom would be tired after her trip to Smallville. There was a chance she’d retire early. If she did, would Lois follow? Or would she be comfortable being alone with Clark?
“You’d better think of something to talk to her about,” he muttered to himself as he swung onto the porch.
The kitchen was deserted – devoid of both people and the usual aromas of a meal in preparation.
Clark concentrated his hearing. His mom’s breathing was coming from upstairs, steady and regular, indicating she was probably asleep. He was grateful for that.
There was no other breathing. No other heartbeat.
What had happened?
Had his mom been so upset that Lois had felt she had to leave?
Would she go without even telling him?
He looked through the walls to where the rental car had been parked. It was gone.
Groaning, he pulled out a chair, sat down, and buried his face in his hands.
He was exhausted. He felt as if every ounce of energy had been leeched from him.
His strange alien strength helped him physically, but it had done nothing to help him through the emotional and mental trauma of the past year.
If only he could… He fiercely squashed all thought of giving up before the idea had even properly formed. He couldn’t give up. He had to keep going, keep providing steady support, keep being there… until his mom was ready to move on.
He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to decide what he should do now.
Where was Lois? Why had she –
Then, he heard it.
The motor of the rental car.
It was getting closer.
He looked through the walls again and saw the little car decrease speed, indicate, and then turn into their gate and drive towards the house.
Lois was back! His mood lifted; his exhaustion fell away.
He put on his glasses and flew up the stairs to the bathroom to wash up.
