Clark started slowly down the stairs. He returned to the barn, packed away the blankets, washed the bowls and spoons, filled the tractor with fuel, and then made a final check on Bess and Daisy.
He worked at normal speed. He worked automatically without any conscious thought.
His mind was with Lois.
Holding her hand.
Sharing her smile.
And that kiss.
Chapter 14
“How was your evening in Wichita?” Lois asked Martha the following morning as they prepared tomatoes to make and can soup.
Martha paused, smiled, and said, “We had a lovely time. The show was fantastic.”
“I’m so pleased.”
Martha reached for another bucket of tomatoes. “Did you enjoy your dinner last night?” she asked.
“Yes, it was great,” Lois replied, careful to pat down any stray tendrils of enthusiasm.
“Did you meet any locals?” Martha asked.
“Tracey. And that man who came up to us at the café.”
“Anton Guerra?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“Did he offer Clark a job?”
“‘Offer’ probably isn’t strong enough.”
“He’s persistent. And foolish. He just can’t accept that Clark will never work for him.”
“If the editor was someone else, someone more aligned with Clark’s values, do you think he would consider it?” Lois asked, keeping her tone casual.
“I doubt it.”
Lois snuck a glance to Martha, trying to gauge whether her question had upset the older woman. There was no indication, so Lois continued. “I wonder if Clark thinks about other options.”
“Of course, he thinks about other options,” Martha said. “Every farmer thinks about leaving at least once a week. Every time an animal dies, or a crop fails, or we desperately need rain, or it’s so wet half the farm is mud, or the government brings in a new rule that means even more red tape, or market prices plummet while the cost of inputs skyrocket, or the list of jobs keeps growing even after working fifteen-hour days without a break for a month… of course he wonders if something else would be easier.”
“But he stays.”
“Yes… because easier and better are not the same thing.” Martha looked at Lois, her expression earnest, her eyes steady. “There’s something about farming,” she said. “If it’s there, if it’s in your heart, it’s almost impossible to leave. Farming is so difficult that anyone who doesn’t love it doesn’t last long. Those who stay… they have something special.”
But had Clark stayed for reasons other than the farm? Lois wasn’t sure. She also wasn’t sure if Martha was ready for that question.
“I know it seems a waste not to use his college education,” Martha continued. “But I’m very grateful he has been here the past year.”
“He told me about your husband,” Lois said softly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Martha said. She finished filling a tray of tomatoes and as she put it in the oven, she said, “Do you think Clark would be interested in a job at a newspaper?”
“I don’t know,” Lois said. In truth, it was hard to know what Clark actually wanted because he was so intent on not failing in his responsibilities. She wasn’t sure she should say that to Martha, though. “Do you think he’ll get the hay in the barn before the rain?”
Marth glanced out of the window. “The rain was due Friday overnight, but the latest forecast says early afternoon.”
“Those few hours could be important?”
“They could be. Clark pulled out of the yard just before first light this morning.”
“Is he going to need lunch taken to him?” Lois asked, hoping Martha would ask her to do it.
“No. He took food. He won’t stop to eat.”
“I’m going to drive the truck for him this afternoon.”
Martha smiled. “He told me. That’ll be a great help.”
Lois heard the tinge of anxiety in Martha’s voice. “But you don’t think my help will be enough to get all the hay in?”
“No. But he’ll get in what he can.” Martha forced a smile as she started arranging the tomatoes Lois had cut onto the next baking tray. “Make sure you have a good lunch, Lois. I don’t expect you’ll be in until almost eight tonight.”
“Will Clark have to milk after that?”
“No. I’ll milk. And I’ll have supper ready for when you walk in.”
“Thanks, Martha. Clark will be hungry by then.”
“I’m about to make some cookies for you and Clark this afternoon.”
Lois sent Martha a smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
Lois continued working through the large buckets of tomatoes as Martha mixed the cookie dough. Her thoughts were with Clark, alone on his tractor, racing against the weather to provide food for his animals over winter.
Did he regret the time lost yesterday, finishing early to prepare for their date?
Had he thought about their date?
Did he consider it a date?
How did he feel about her kissing him?
She felt a little guilty about it now. She’d wanted to show her appreciation for all his efforts to give her a lovely evening.
But they both knew that, eventually, this little oasis of time had to end. She had to return, if not to Metropolis, but to her world.
Martha put the cookies in the oven, and a few minutes later, Lois heard the sound of a car engine approaching. It stopped at the front of the house. “Someone’s here,” Martha said as she quickly washed and dried her hands. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were Jack?”
Lois listened intently as Martha walked to the front door and opened it.
“Lana!” she said, sounding pleased. “And Levi! Come in.”
“Hello, Martha,” Lois heard Lana say. “Levi is wondering if he could see Daisy again.”
“Can I? Please?” chirped a young voice.
“You’re just a little early for cookies,” Martha said as they appeared in the kitchen. “But we can certainly go and see Daisy.”
“Thanks,” Levi said, beaming.
“Come on,” Martha said, holding out her hand to Levi.
“I… Do you mind if I stay here with Lois?” Lana asked.
Martha’s head jolted from Lana to Lois. “No, of course not,” she said. “Can you watch the cookies please?”
“Ah… yes,” Lois said. “How will I know when to take them out?”
“They’ll be just starting to brown.”
“Oh. OK.”
Martha and Levi left through the back door, with Levi chatting enthusiastically about some pups he had seen that morning.
Lois looked at Lana, pushing down all feelings of nervousness. “Have you made cookies before?” she asked.
“Yes. Plenty of times.” Lois couldn’t detect any animosity in her tone.
“Good. You’ll know when they should come out.”
Lana nodded absently. “Lois?” she said. “Can I talk to you please?”
There was still no obvious hostility, but Lois’s heart accelerated a little. “OK,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“You went out with Clark last night.”
It wasn’t a question. “Yes, I did.”
“Are you… was it… was it just as friends? Or something more?”
“I’ve known Clark for such a short time,” Lois hedged.
Lana slid into the seat across the table from Lois. “But Clark is… well, it doesn’t take long to realise how wonderful he is.”
Lois figured that if Lana could ask direct questions, so could she. “Do you want to marry Clark?”
Lana twitched a little in surprise. Then she smiled softly. “That is the impossible question.”
“It should be simple,” Lois said. “Either you love him, or you don’t.”
“Oh, I know I don’t love him,” Lana said. “Not in that way. I’m still in love with Brett and expect to be for the rest of my life.”
“Clark told me about your husband,” Lois said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you…” Lois paused, deliberately softening her tone. “Do you want to marry Clark?”
“It seems everyone is talking about that. The only two people not talking about that are Clark and me.” She looked at Lois with troubled eyes. “I don’t want to hurt Clark. He’s been hurt enough. If he really wanted to marry me, if he thought that was best, I would marry him.”
“But you don’t want to?”
Lana shrugged. “I feel numb. I don’t think I will ever love any man again. Clark is so wonderful; I figure he deserves to marry someone who really wants to be with him. I shouldn’t take that chance away from him.”
“No,” Lois said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“I mean, being married to Clark would be great. Obviously. He would be kind, loving, faithful. He would always put his wife first. He’s such an amazing guy. Different than anyone else. Any woman would be lucky to be married to him.” She sighed and hunched back into the seat. “But I don’t love him, and I never will.”
“I… I don’t really understand why you’re telling me this.”
“Because if you have feelings for Clark… if you love him, or even think one day you might love him, I wanted you to know that there’s nothing between him and me, regardless of what everyone might be saying. Or even what Clark is saying. Because I know he doesn’t love me. Not in a marrying kind of way. But I also know he might think he should marry me because everyone expects it.” She looked up at Lois and smiled. “I was so excited when I heard he took you out last night. I have been terrified he would come and propose to me.”
“I can’t stay here. Not for much longer. I have… a job, a life. I have to get back.”
“You don’t love Clark?” Lana asked, looking disappointed.
“I… well… I hardly know him.”
“I don’t want to interfere,” Lana said. “But can’t you see he’s a great guy? He’s perfect. And gorgeous. And his body…” She giggled. “Have you ever seen him with his shirt off?”
“Ah… no.”
“Pity,” she said. “He’s spectacular.”
“You sound as if you are in love with him,” Lois said.
“Not in that way,” Lana said. “We have been friends since elementary school. Then I married his best friend, Brett, and I guess Clark seemed like a brother-in-law. You know, family. If I did marry him, it would feel like I was marrying a cousin.”
“Do you know if Clark is considering proposing?” Lois asked.
“Not really,” Lana replied. “But it’s something Clark would do – put his own chance at real happiness aside so Levi could have a father and I could have someone to look after us.”
“Would you like me to tell him how you feel?”
“Would you?” Lana said, her expression earnest. “Could you do it without hurting him? Without making him think I don’t want to marry him?”
“Maybe,” Lois said. “If the topic arose, maybe I could let him know… you know, gently.”
“I would be so grateful,” Lana said. Suddenly, she jumped up. “The cookies! We almost forgot them!” She grabbed a pair of oven mitts and opened the door. She took out the tray to reveal the slightly browned cookies. “They’re perfect!” she said, grinning.
“Phew,” Lois said with relief.
“I’ll go and tell Martha the cookies are done. And rescue her from Levi’s unending stories about the pups.” Lana put the tray on the counter and headed for the door. “If you do decide to stay, I’d like to be friends,” she said.
But Lois wasn’t going to stay. “I’d like that, too,” she said.
Lana closed the door, and Lois sank into the chair.
Her date with Clark had worked – they had found out what Lana really wanted.
It should have made things simpler.
But somehow, it didn’t.
Why was she still here?
When was she going to return to her life?
And why was it so hard to think about leaving?
~~~~
Clark came to the end of a field and decided it was time to stop baling and get the bales safely into the barn. He probably should have made the decision an hour ago.
Inexplicably, it was tied up with Lois.
As most things were these days.
He was so, so excited about seeing her again. He had thought about nothing else as he had driven the tractor and baler along row after row of raked hay. The anticipation was exquisite.
But… there was also the chance that Lois had thought about their dinner and realised it had come too close to a date for a farmer and a reporter who had no intention of staying in Kansas. There was every chance she would back away – to make it clear to him that their friendship had no future. That their worlds were too far apart for anything to be possible between them.
So, Clark had baled another field, longing to see Lois, but so very hesitant to dull the sweetness of his memories of the previous evening.
Eventually, the farmer who needed hay for his animals won over the man and his doubts, driving him from the tractor and into the farmhouse.
Lois was there. She looked up from the tomatoes and smiled, melting his heart and squeezing the breath from his lungs.
She was so beautiful.
“Clark!” she said, standing up. “Did something go wrong? I was expecting you an hour ago.”
“Nothing went wrong,” he said. “I just decided to bale a bit more.”
“I’m ready,” she said. “Martha is out picking carrots to go in the soup. She made cookies for us to take with us. Here’s the container.”
“That’s great,” he said, wondering if she was also just a little nervous about being with him again after their wonderful evening together. “You should bring a jacket. It’ll cool off later.”
She took a jacket from a nearby hook, added the cookie container, and said with a smile, “Ready.”
“Let’s go, then.”
~~~~
“What should I do?” Lois asked as Clark stopped the truck, with the trailer latched on behind, at the beginning of two long rows of hay bales.
“Drive slowly between the rows. I will throw the bales onto the tray and the trailer. Sometimes I’ll need to get aboard to stack them.”
Lois looked down the row. “They look heavy,” she said doubtfully.
He smiled. “I do it every year,” he said. “You driving the truck saves so much time.”
She returned his smile. “I’ll keep the window down so I can hear if you need me to stop.”
“Thanks,” he said, lingering a moment, smiling, studying her with those warm brown eyes in a way that felt like a caress. “I appreciate your help.”
She returned his smile, and then broke away, opening the passenger’s door and clambering down. “You’re welcome.”
Clark was waiting for her when Lois arrived at the driver’s side. “Everything clear about driving?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “You explained it all well.”
“Just stop if you need anything.”
Lois nodded and got into the truck.
Driving the truck was more involved than Lois had imagined. She needed to look ahead to ensure she stayed equidistant from each row. She needed to look in the various mirrors to watch Clark, both for his safety and to minimise the distance he had to walk between the bales and the truck or trailer.
For almost an hour Lois drove between the rows of bales and Clark loaded them onto the tray of the truck and the trailer. When it was piled high, they drove to the barn – Clark driving and Lois opening gates – and backed in.
“What happens now?” Lois asked.
“I’ll throw them up into the loft.”
“What can I do?”
“Sit here and rest.”
“I don’t need to rest. How heavy are the bales?”
“Forty-five to fifty pounds.”
“I can carry that.”
“Lois-”
“We have to hurry. If I can help and save some time, I want to do that.”
He considered for a moment. “OK,” he said, not sounding either happy or sure. “Come up into the loft.”
Clark climbed up the ladder, and Lois followed. At the top, Clark waited, extending his hand in case she needed help. She accepted his offer and hauled herself into the loft. The end third was filled with stacked bales, and the rest was swept clean.
“We store the hay here?” Lois asked.
“Yes,” Clark said. “That’s the early summer hay. We’ll start at the other end. We’ll put the alfalfa to the right, and the grass hay to the left.”
“How will I know the difference?”
“The alfalfa is from the second and third fields we’ll bring in. The rest is grass hay. Also, the alfalfa will be a bit greener in colour.”
“OK.”
“Stand back, and I’ll throw up a bale.”
He disappeared down the ladder, and a few seconds later, a bale came up through the hole and landed with a thud at her feet. Clark followed.
“Pick it up by the twine,” Clark said, showing her.
Lois threaded her fingers between the twine and the hay and lifted. It was heavy, but not beyond her strength.
“Can you carry it?” Clark asked.
“Yes,” she said, demonstrating.
He wasn’t convinced. “Lois, I can’t stand the thought of you doing anything too hard for you.”
Lois put her hand on his arm. “Can I help if I promise to stop the moment it gets too heavy?”
“OK,” he conceded.
Lois picked up the bale again. “Where does this go?”
“Over here.” Clark went to the corner of the loft.
Lois dropped the bale and pushed it into the corner. “Like that?”
Clark nodded. “Watch for bales coming up. Don’t get hit by one.”
“OK.”
“You are only to do the first, second and third layers. Don’t lift them any higher. I’ll do that.”
“OK,” Lois said, not sure if she would obey.
Clark went to a closet built into the wall, opened it, and took out two gloves. “Wear these,” he said. “Otherwise, the twine will tear your hands to shreds.”
“Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”
“Because I do this a lot.”
“Let’s get this hay stacked.”
He paused, obviously reconsidering.
“Go on,” Lois said, giving him a light push towards the ladder. “The hay isn't going to jump up here by itself.”
He grinned at that, climbed down the ladder and a few seconds later, a bale came up.
Lois picked it up and placed it next to the first one.
The bales came up quickly. Lois’s layers grew more slowly. Several minutes later, she turned and found Clark there. “That’s great,” he said. “I’ll stack the fourth layer.”
He was a lot faster than she was, and soon there was a fourth layer and the beginning of the fifth. Lois watched him, remembering what Lana had said about seeing him without a shirt. She could easily imagine the effect this hard physical labour would have had on his physique.
When he’d cleared most of the bales, he went down the ladder and tossed up more.
Twenty minutes later, all the bales from the first load were stacked. Clark had taken some of the outer ones from the lower layer and added them to the higher levels.
“Well done,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Sure?”
“Let’s do the next load.”
Clark descended the ladder and waited at the bottom to help her. They climbed back into the truck and headed out again.
By the third load, Lois was tiring, but Clark hadn’t noticeably slowed. He seemed to be working faster to decrease the number of bales she hauled.
As they drove into the barn with the fourth load, Clark said, “Would you go and get us some lemonade please?”
Lois agreed, trying not to show she was a little relieved. When she got back to the barn with their drinks and more of Martha’s cookies, Clark was coming down the ladder and the truck was empty.
“Wow, you were quick!” Lois exclaimed. “Aren’t you getting tired?”
He took the glass of lemonade. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll drive back to the next field. You stay here and rest.”
"How can you drive and load the truck?”
“I’ll drive a bit, get out, load, repeat.”
“Clark, you can’t do that. It will take ages.”
“I did it that way last year.”
Of course, he had… right around the time his father had passed away.
She had to try to protect him from those memories. Or at least be there so he didn’t have to remember alone. “I’m coming, too,” she said firmly.
“Lois! I can’t let you-”
“OK,” she said. “I’ll only drive. I’ll rest while you unload the truck and stack them.”
He eyed her with a thousand silent questions.
“I’m driving,” she said firmly. “Finish your lemonade, and let’s get this hay into the barn.”
"Lois..."
“How did you get it unloaded so fast?”
“The stack is getting closer to the ladder. Not so far to carry them.”
“Great job,” she said. With a light touch to his arm, she clambered into the passenger side of the truck and waited for Clark to get in and drive.
Clark lined up the truck at the start of the next row and turned to her.
“You’re an amazing woman,” he said as he jumped out of the truck.
“You’re pretty amazing yourself,” she said.
The sun was touching the horizon when the fifth load was in the barn.
“Do you think we’ll have time for a full load?” Lois asked as they returned to the field.
“Are you getting tired?”
“Yes, but I’m concerned about you.”
“We’ll load until you have had enough,” Clark said. “Then I’ll take you back to the house and I’ll unload. There are lights in the barn.”
Lois drove as the darkness settled around them. Halfway along a row, she stopped the truck and called, “Clark?”
He was at her window very quickly. “What’s wrong? Are you OK?”
“Yes. But it’s too dark to see you. I’m worried it’s too dangerous for you to be near a moving truck in the dark. What if you get caught between the truck and the trailer?”
“I’m fine.”
“If you tripped or fell, I can’t see you. I could run right over you.”
“You won’t hit me,” he said.
She wasn’t sure that anyone could be fine after the amount of physical work he had done today. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” he said, resting his hand on her arm. “We’ll just finish this load.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“I promise.” He gave her a smile and returned to the hay.
Dusk had faded to black when they drove out of the field and into the barn. Clark jumped from the truck and turned on the light. He returned to Lois’s door and offered his hand.
She took it and slowly eased from the truck.
Still holding her hand, Clark looked into her eyes, and said, “Go inside and have a shower. Tell Mom I’ll be about twenty minutes.”
A shower sounded like heaven. She was dusty, achy, and felt as if she had half a bale of hay in her hair.
She gave him a tired smiled and walked out of the barn. She crossed to the house, more physically tired than after the most vigorous gym session. She also experienced a kind of elation she’d only previously felt after nailing a big story.
Who would have thought that chasing down a story and storing away hay would produce similar feelings?
She arrived at the farmhouse and opened the door into the kitchen. The most delicious aroma hit her, causing her stomach to remind her she was extremely hungry.
“Lois,” Martha greeted from the stove. “How did it go?”
“We got five loads done,” she said, with triumph in her voice.
“Fantastic,” Martha said. “How long before Clark comes in?”
“He said twenty minutes.”
“Perfect timing. Go and have a shower.”
“I need one.”
Lois slowly climbed the stairs, ignoring the protests of the muscles in her legs, arms, shoulders and back.
Five minutes later, she stepped under the hot stream and figured she had probably never felt anything quite so wonderful.
Last edited by Female Hawk; 08/04/24 07:52 AM.
