Once in bed, Lois’s thoughts went through the darkness to somewhere on the farm where Clark was building a fence, working by tractor light.
Was he cold?
Hungry?
Lonely?
Annoyed at Jack’s continuing absence?
Frustrated at being behind in his work?
Martha had said that tomorrow was to be a repeat of today. Apples for them, fencing for Clark.
Maybe if they were able to get the apples done by mid-afternoon, Martha would let Lois take some lemonade and cake to Clark.
She would ask.
Because a day without seeing Clark had felt strangely empty.
Chapter 6
Lois had set her alarm and risen early, hoping to catch Clark before he left, but he’d already gone when she arrived in the kitchen.
Martha, however, seemed more like herself – chatty, upbeat, and eager to get started on the apples.
As they sat down at the table laden with knives, boards, huge pots and almost endless apples, Martha said, “Would you still like to buy some more clothes?”
“Yes,” Lois said, picking up a knife. “I didn’t pack for staying on a farm.”
“Let’s go in for lunch,” Martha said, her concentration on the apples.
Lois gasped in surprise, smothered it quickly, and calmly responded with, “I would like that.”
Martha nodded, and the work began.
Lois turned her concentration to the apples. Inside, she was celebrating. And she couldn’t wait to share the news with Clark.
Just before noon, Martha said, “I’ll finish up this last batch. You go and get changed, honey.”
Half an hour later, Martha drove Lois into Smallville and parked outside a nondescript café with faded signage proclaiming this was ‘Maisie’s’. “Is this your favourite café?” Lois asked.
“It’s the only café open on Saturday morning,” Martha said. She released a long breath. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, then turned to Lois. “Let’s go in, shall we?”
Lois smiled, hoping it would convey both support and encouragement. They got out of the car and walked towards the café. At the doorstep, Martha paused.
“What is your favourite lunch they serve?” Lois asked.
“The chicken and cheese toastie.”
“Sounds delicious.”
Martha straightened her shoulders, pushed at the door, and stepped inside.
Every head turned towards them. Every face registered surprise. Every mouth smiled.
Martha stalled.
Lois drew alongside her. “Where shall we sit? Over here?” She pointed to a small empty table with two seats.
“No,” Martha said. “This one.” She moved towards the booth at the back of the café, saw it was occupied, and took the second to last, slipping into the bench seat facing the back wall.
Lois sat opposite her. “I would like to pay,” she said. “To thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
“I haven’t done anything,” Martha said, seeming genuinely surprised.
“You have,” Lois insisted. “You’ve made me welcome and given me space and time to sort out my life.”
“Well, thank you, honey. I appreciate that.”
“You’d like the chicken and cheese toastie?” Lois asked. “Or something else?”
“The usual, please.”
“And a drink?”
“Lemonade, please.”
The waitress came over, carrying two menus. “Hello, Martha,” she said. “It’s lovely to see you again.”
“Hello, Maisie,” Martha said, sounding as if her throat was tightly bound.
“We’d like two chicken and cheese toasties, a lemonade and an iced tea,” Lois said, cutting in before Maisie could bombard Martha with questions.
Maisie wrote down their order, looked at Martha, and opened her mouth to speak.
“And a jug of water with two glasses, please,” Lois said. “Thank you.” The final two words were crisp, with an edge of dismissal.
Maisie nodded and walked away. Lois surreptitiously glanced around the café and noticed that everyone was pretending not to look at Martha.
Martha was sitting up straight, her hands tight around the handles of her bag, staring at the back wall. Lois, who had run into places most wouldn’t, recognised the raw courage in her posture, glimpsing new comprehension of the depths of Martha’s grief. She wished there was a way to communicate her understanding and respect.
But Lois wasn’t even supposed to know Martha was grieving her much-loved husband.
“Are there any clothes stores in Smallville?” Lois asked. “And will they be open today?”
“Clothes for the farm? Or clothes for the town?”
It hadn’t occurred to Lois that they would be different stores. “I was thinking town clothes,” she said, “but perhaps farm clothes would be a better idea.”
“Are you intending to stay for a while?” Martha asked quickly. “You’re very welcome.”
“I haven’t decided anything,” Lois admitted. “Part of what has been so wonderful is not having to think more than a day ahead. I am so grateful.”
“You stay as long as you want, honey. We love having you with us.”
“Thank you.”
“The farm store will be open. The other one is closed at the weekend.”
Lois filled their time by asking some questions about what she could expect to find in a ‘farm clothes’ store. Martha answered, and it became easier to ignore the rest of the customers.
Maisie brought the water and placed it on the table with two glasses. As she filled both glasses, she said, “How lovely for you to have a guest, Martha.”
“Yes, it is,” Martha said, picking up one of the glasses and sipping from it.
Maisie brushed at a couple of specks on the table. “And one from so far away. It’s wonderful to catch up with distant family.”
Martha nodded, looking up at Maisie for the briefest second before returning her attention to the table.
“We’re wondering if you’d be so kind as to bring the toasties as soon as they’re ready,” Lois said in her sweetest voice. “We have a busy afternoon ahead.”
“Of course,” Maisie said, turning to leave.
“Thank you,” Martha whispered when Maisie was out of earshot.
Lois smiled. “Tell me about the stores in Smallville.”
Martha put her bag on the seat beside her. “The Connolly family have had the rural store for over twenty years,” she said. “They stock a wide range – clothes, fencing, fertilizers, seed, grain, minerals, tools…”
“Tell me about their clothes.”
They were still talking when Maisie arrived with their drinks and toasties. Lois thanked her and then pointedly returned her attention to Martha. Maisie lingered for a moment, but hearing nothing more interesting that the details of the Quinton family who ran the Post Office, moved away.
Five minutes later, a man came through the door, headed to the counter, saw Martha, and sauntered over. “I hear your farmhand has gone,” he said without preamble.
“He’ll be back next week,” was Martha’s clipped response.
The man smiled, although it lacked any semblance of warmth. “Good,” he said. “Tell Clark my door is always open.” He returned to the counter and barked his order.
Lois assessed Martha’s closed expression, trying to determine if she should risk a question. Her curiosity overcame her caution. “Open for what?” she asked.
Martha leaned over the table. “That’s Anton Guerra,” she said in a lowered voice. “He’s an obnoxious man who thinks that everyone should do what he wants.”
“Including Clark?”
Martha nodded, a little twinkle in her eyes. “Including Clark.”
“Will he?”
“Not a chance.” They shared a smile and continued their lunch.
They had almost finished their toasties when one of the other customers approached their table. “It’s so wonderful to see you, Martha,” she said.
“Thank you, Anna.” Martha put down her lemonade. “How is your apple harvest?”
“A bit down this year. I’ve finished preserving it.”
“We started the apples yesterday.”
“Have you finished?” Anna asked.
“No. Not yet.”
“I’m about to start on the pears.”
“Your pear trees are famous,” Martha said. “So reliable every year.”
“Would you like some help with your apples?”
“I have Lois,” Martha said with a nod in her direction.
“I could help you with the rest of your apples tomorrow morning, and in the afternoon, we could do my pears.”
Martha hesitated. Lois held her breath, pretending great interest in the final bite of her toastie.
“I could use the help,” Anna said. “And you know we always have far too many. There are plenty to share around.”
Martha nodded, very slightly. Anna beamed. “I’ll be in your kitchen nine o’clock tomorrow morning.” She turned and strode away, probably wanting out before Martha could change her mind.
Lois settled back against the bench seat and sipped from her tea. She was sure Clark would be pleased with this development. And it hadn’t escaped her that if Anna were helping Martha, it could possibly free Lois. Maybe Clark could use some help?
Two younger women cautiously approached their table. One had a baby on her hip. “Martha?” she said. “It’s great to see you. I… I have been hoping to run into you.” She looked down at her baby with obvious pride. “This is Susannah, our daughter.”
Martha smiled and congratulated the young mother.
Lois stared through the window of the cafe, trying to give Martha some space to re-establish contact with her friends. She imagined telling Clark about their lunch and smiled at his reaction.
“Clark…”
The voice came from the booth behind Lois. She closed her eyes and kept her ears wide open.
“Clark and Lana…”
“It’ll be one year next month.”
“Maybe they’re waiting for the first anniversary to make the announcement.”
“Perfect for all of them.”
“Obvious, really.”
“Can’t wait for another wedding.”
“After all the sadness…”
“Lois!”
Lois startled and opened her eyes. The young women had returned to their own table. “Sorry,” she said to Martha. “I zoned out.”
Martha smiled. “Are you ready to go shopping for clothes?”
“Absolutely,” Lois said, quickly draining her iced tea. “I’m going to need your advice. I’ve never bought farm clothes before.”
Lois paid, and they left the café together.
Martha appeared to relax as they browsed the rural store. Most people who saw them smiled at her and a few greeted her by name. Lois figured Martha had made huge progress in the just a couple of hours.
With collaboration from Martha, Lois decided on a pair of jeans, a light summery sweater and a long-sleeved shirt that screamed ‘farmer’. Lois encouraged Martha to purchase a sweater she liked, and after a little hesitation, she smiled and agreed. The atmosphere was cheery as they drove home. When they turned into the farm driveway, it felt like a homecoming – something Lois had rarely experienced before.
Back in the kitchen, Lois labelled the jars of canned apple while Martha cooked sausages and mashed potatoes with vegetables for supper. She left Clark’s on a plate in the fridge.
Later, when Lois got into bed, her thoughts travelled through the darkness to Clark, still working on the fence.
She was desperately impatient to tell him about lunch at the café. And Martha’s plans with Anna. And the fun they’d had choosing new clothes.
She picked up her clock and set the alarm for 3:30am.
~~~~
The fence was almost done.
In the past, Clark and his dad would have celebrated with lemonades on the front porch, enjoying the satisfaction of a productive day.
Instead, Clark had checked on Bess, come into the house alone, and gone straight up to his room. He’d paused for a few seconds at Lois’s door.
He’d spent the past two days digging holes, dropping in fence posts, running out wire, tensioning it, and securing it in place.
His mind, however, had been on Lois.
He missed her.
He still wondered why she had come looking for Jack. Surely, it had to be a story. Or related to a story. As much as he’d like to know, he was willing to subdue his curiosity. He didn’t want to say anything that risked jolting her out of the one-day-at-a-time mindset that had clearly brought her some peace.
It was inevitable that her time at the farm would be short. She had admitted that her quest to find Jack had been more about running away from her difficulties in Metropolis, so it seemed unlikely she would wait until his return. She would probably be gone within a couple of days.
And that felt like a huge dark cloud just waiting to descend onto Clark’s colourless life.
He’d slept for a few hours and awoken, coming out to the barn to check on Bess.
And to think.
About Lois.
He sat on the hay bale, remembering when she had come to the barn. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel her presence beside him. And her head on his shoulder. That had felt so incredibly good.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sound – the back door of the farmhouse had opened… and closed. There were footsteps on the porch. Footsteps, coming closer.
Clark quickly wiped his hands on the hay, ran his fingers through his hair, and brushed – ineffectually – at a grass stain on his jeans.
He stood, lowered his glasses, and watched her approach, her flashlight beam darting over the path. He timed his move to coincide with her arrival at the door.
“Lois,” he said, injecting surprise into his tone. “I heard footsteps and wondered who was coming in the middle of the night.”
“It’s the farm manager,” she said with a grin. “How’s Bess? Any baby yet?”
He pointed out of the barn to where Bess was nonchalantly staring back at them. “Nothing yet.”
“I have something to tell you,” Lois announced.
It was obvious she was pleased about something. Clark’s heart rate accelerated. Was she about to tell him she’d decided to leave? To return to her life in Metropolis? “Go on,” he said.
“Martha and I had lunch in the café in Smallville today,” she said, grinning broadly.
“Really?” Clark said, incredibly relieved on two counts.
“Really.”
“How was it? Did she seem to enjoy it?”
“She seemed a little tense at first. But yes, I think she enjoyed it.”
“Did you?” Clark said, almost afraid to ask.
“Yes.” Lois looked down at the hay. Maybe, she was staying for a while. Clark quickly reached for the folded blanket and placed it neatly on the bale. Lois smiled her thanks and sat down. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” she asked.
“The chicken coop is leaking.” He sat down, leaning back against the hay. “I need to fix the roof before winter.”
“Do you need any help?”
His heart soared with sweet anticipation. “Are you offering?”
“Martha has plans to work with a woman named Anna tomorrow. She’s coming to help in the kitchen.”
“Anna! Really? That’s wonderful.”
“They are going to can the rest of the apples and some of Anna’s pears.”
“Lois,” Clark breathed, risking the briefest of touches to Lois's arm. “That is great progress. Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You suggested the trip to Smallville. You went with her. I’m sure your presence made it easier for her. Thank you.”
“Is Anna a friend of your mom’s?”
“Yes. But Anna is married to Tom, and they have a fantastic marriage, and I think it was just too much for Mom after Dad passed away."
“I feel so deeply for your mom. I guess it’s easy to want the ‘happily ever after’ without ever considering what happens after that.”
“Yeah."
“And we went to the clothes store. That was a lot of fun.”
“Connolly’s?”
She nodded.
Clark grinned. “Farm clothes. Did you buy anything?”
“A few things.”
Why would a city girl need farm clothes? Clark adjusted his position a little, trying to moderate the grin he knew was exploding all over his face. “Did Mom?”
“Yes. She got a sweater.”
“That’s great,” he said. He looked directly into her lovely brown eyes. “Thank you, Lois. You’ll probably never understand how grateful I am for the time you’ve spent with Mom.”
“I enjoy her company.”
Lois was awesome. She had managed to do in five days what he had failed to do in almost eleven months.
She was looking at Bess. “Are you tired of waiting for the baby?” she asked.
“Nothing I can do,” he said.
“I guess not,” she said. “I guess there are a lot of things out of your control. Weather. Babies. That sort of thing.”
He nodded. “All we can do is try to make the best of whatever happens.”
“I would not be a good farmer,” she said. “I like to control everything.”
“Some things are bigger than we are.”
She nodded, seeming to accept his perspective. “How’s the fence?” she asked. “Have you finished it?”
“Almost.”
“Why is it so important that it be done now?”
“The ewes lambed back in April. Their lambs are ready to wean. I needed to divide a large paddock to make two smaller ones so I have somewhere to separate the lambs from their mothers.”
“Why do they need to be separated now? Why not in a couple of weeks after the hay has been done?”
“As the days get shorter, there is less nutrition in the pasture. If I leave the lambs with their mothers for much longer, the ewes will start to lose condition. That’s not good for the ewes, and it risks negatively impacting next year’s lambs.”
“What will happen to the ewes now?”
“They’ll go into a field to rest. In about six weeks, I’ll put the rams in with them.”
“And the lambs?”
“The best of the girls I’ll add to my breeding flock. The rest of the girls and all the boys will be sold next month.”
“How do you decide which ones are the best?”
“How well they’ve grown and how healthy they are. Also, I’m more likely to keep the daughters of well-performing ewes.”
“Like the one your dad saved?”
Clark smiled as memories tumbled through his mind. “Dad would never admit it, but the first daughters we kept from Sarah was more sentiment than sound judgement.”
“Perry – my editor – always says there is no room for sentiment if you want success.”
“Maybe there’s a little room.” Clark wanted to ask if she’d been thinking about her life in Metropolis, but before he’d formed the words, Lois was looking at Bess again.
“Are you worried about her?” she asked.
“There’s nothing to suggest there is something to worry about.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He smiled at her persistence. “I’m not worried, but I’ll be glad when the calf is safely born.”
“And Bess is OK?”
“Yes.”
“You still think the baby will be a girl?”
Clark stood. “Come and look at this,” he said.
She stood next to him, and he led her over to Bess. He indicated the top of Bess’s head, between her ears. “This area is called her poll. If you think of this as her hairdo, how would you describe it?”
Lois giggled. “It’s a mess. Wild and crazy.”
“Tradition says messy poll means a heifer calf. Tidy poll means a bull calf.”
Lois’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “No!” she said. “The sex of the calf can’t affect the hair on her head.”
“You sure about that?” he asked mildly, enjoying her scepticism.
“You see calves after they’re born. Is it true?”
“More often than not.”
“So, it doesn’t work all the time,” she said with challenge in her words.
Clark conceded that with a little smile. Lois answered with a grin. He gave Bess a parting pat and returned to the hay bales.
Once seated, they were silent, and Clark wondered if Lois was still thinking about the calf being a bull or a heifer. He realised how comfortable it had become, being with Lois. Eventually, they would talk, but for now, the quietness was almost as good as their communication.
“Clark, do you mind if I ask you something?”
“No,” he said, his curiosity rising.
“If you don’t want to answer, that’s OK,” she said. “Just say so.”
“Is that what you always say to people you’re questioning?”
She grinned at that. “No, of course not. Which proves I’m not questioning you.”
He conceded that with a slight nod.
“If you were one of the farm kids who wanted to try something different, what would you do?”
Clark hesitated, tossing up between the truth and making up something on the run.
“It’s OK,” she said. “You don’t have to answer. I know there are reasons why you have to be here right now.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to answer,” Clark said.
“Then what?”
“The truth is unbelievable.”
He could see her processing that. Then suddenly, her face broke into a smile. “More unbelievable than hairstyles on cows predicting whether their baby is a girl or a boy?”
“More unbelievable than that.”
“I’ll believe you,” she said, and it sounded like a promise. “Unless you tell me something completely ridiculous.”
“Like what?”
“Like you dream of being a corrupt businessman, doing shady deals. Or a career criminal. Or a drug dealer. Thief. Murderer.”
“OK, it’s none of those,” he said, unable to control his wide grin.
“Anything else I’ll believe you. In fact, I think I know you well enough that I won’t even be surprised.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yep.”
“OK, I’ll tell you,” he said. “And if you’re surprised, you owe me. If you’re not, I owe you.”
“Owe me what?”
Clark grinned at her assumption she would win. “You’d choose.”
“Anything?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with fun.
“If I can,” he said, unable to imagine denying her anything she asked of him.
“OK,” she said. “It’s a deal, Farm Boy.”
It took a couple of breaths for him to recover from her teasing, almost affectionate tone. “I majored in Journalism at Kansas State. And I dreamed of being a reporter at The Daily Planet.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You win,” she said weakly, not even bothering to contest.
“I know,” he said. But in reality, he’d lost. He’d lost his heart to Lois Lane. He’d been unable to stop himself from falling in love with her. The ‘Farm Boy’ had been the final straw. He was powerless now and would be powerless to keep from falling in love with her over and over and over again.
“Have you ever worked as a reporter?” she asked, still clearly shocked.
“I travelled for a couple of years after college and paid for it by writing about the things I saw and selling to various publications.”
“Did you ever apply to The Daily Planet?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I had decided to return to the States, and then my dad had a heart attack.”
Lois’s hand rested lightly on his. “Is that when he passed away?”
“No. I looked after the farm while he recovered. Then we worked it together.”
“And you felt the opportunity had passed?”
“Not passed exactly. More… I knew that time spent away from the farm was time not spent with my dad. And one day, I knew I might regret that.”
“And that’s how it turned out?” Her hand squeezed his – briefly and gently, but its effects rolled up his arm like a wave.
Clark nodded. “I wouldn’t give back that time,” he said. “Not for anything.”
“Of course not.” She withdrew her hand, and they were silent again – peaceful, comfortable silence – and then she said, “I’ve always envied kids like you.”
“Kids like me?”
“With a mom and a dad who cared about them. And each other.”
“You didn’t have that?”
She shook her head. “But I never thought about the other side. How a relationship like that can lead to obligations.”
“Not obligations,” Clark said quickly. “It was always my choice to be here. It still is.”
“At some point, I have to decide what I’m going to do now, but when I do, my parents won’t factor into that decision in any way.”
“There’s no one else?” Clark asked.
“Just me,” she said. “I don’t have anyone else.”
Clark’s heart splintered as he clenched his arms to stop from drawing her close and telling her she had him and he would be there for her whenever she needed, whatever she needed. “Is that why you came looking for Jack?” he asked tentatively.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t think. I just reacted.”
“Have you decided if you want to see him?”
“No. This…” She gestured around the barn. “This is exactly what I needed. Something so different than I’m used to. I am very grateful to you and your mom for letting me stay.”
“We love having you.”
Her smile was full of gratitude. He wanted to believe there was something else there, too. Affection… maybe. “Who’s Anton Guerra?” she asked.
The mention of that name was like a splash of cold water. “He’s the editor of the local paper.”
“That’s why he wants you to work for him.”
“When did you meet Anton?” Clark asked, trying to keep his tone even.
“Today. He came over in the café and told Martha his door was always open.”
“I will never work for him.”
Lois’s gaze settled on Clark for a moment, and he figured she was about to question him further. “I know why you come here every night,” she said.
He loved her ability to surprise him. “To check on Bess.”
“That’s only part of it.”
“Really?”
There was triumph in her smile, making her look so incredibly beautiful, it stole his breath. “You come here because you’re not milking Bess.”
He raised his hands, requesting further explanation.
“This is your quiet time. Your time to slow down. To think. To reflect. The time that grounds you. Just like milking does.”
Clark had never thought of it that way. “You could be right,” he said.
“I am right.”
“You like being right, don’t you?”
She grinned impishly. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He didn’t respond because the only words he had were words he couldn’t say. I want you in my life forever. You’re beautiful.
I love you.
“Can I help you with the chicken house tomorrow?” she asked.
“I would love to have your help.”
“Great.” She stood and for one crazy, heart-pounding moment, Clark thought she was going to bend down and kiss him. She didn’t. She said, “There’s a position vacant at The Daily Planet at present. I could have a word with Perry White on your behalf if you wanted me to.” She turned and walked out the door, then poked her head back around the corner. “But I honestly couldn’t say if that would increase your chances of getting the job or utterly destroy them.”
Then she was gone.
Leaving Clark grappling with the certain knowledge that whether he farmed or whether he worked at The Daily Planet or any other newspaper – it was immaterial.
The only thing that mattered was being with Lois.
