“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.
Chapter 15
Martha had just finished filling the third plate when Clark walked into the kitchen. She glanced at his face but wasn’t able to read if he were satisfied with the progress or not.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Nearly six hundred in the barn.”
That wasn’t enough. “When is the rain due?”
“Mid afternoon. Maybe as late as four.”
“We’re not going to get it done, are we?”
Clark shook his head. “Not unless…”
“You know you can’t, Clark. It’s too risky. We could lose everything.”
“Mom…”
They had had this argument too many times to count. “People will notice, Clark,” she said.
“We need that hay, Mom.”
“How will you explain to Lois if hay suddenly appears in the barn?”
“I had to watch her carrying bales that are far too heavy for her,” he grated.
“I used to help your father.”
“I know, Mom.” He sighed. He looked drained. He looked exactly how he would be expected to after a hard day in the fields, but Martha knew it wasn’t physical.
“Maybe the rain will hold off,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.
“Maybe,” he said, matching her lighter tone, as he had so many times in the past year. He pointed towards the stairs and said, “Lois is coming.”
They ate the roast chicken and vegetables that Martha had prepared. Lois was a little pale and looked exhausted. Clark checked her multiple times, and Martha saw the concern in his eyes. She saw something else too – guilt. Guilt that he had allowed her to do the heavy work that he could have done in the blink of an eye.
But they couldn’t risk it.
Jonathan had backed her. Now Jonathan was gone, and she knew Clark would never take advantage of that.
They had to keep Clark’s abilities a secret.
For Clark.
For her.
And for Jonathan’s farm.
Whatever the price, they couldn’t risk any suspicions about Clark.
Martha glanced at Lois.
She assumed Lois was the reason Clark had finally made a decision about Lana and the ridiculous notion that he should marry her because he was single, she was widowed, and they’d been friends for years.
Martha was grateful to Lois for many things, but none more than that.
Clark had always wanted to marry.
Martha had always worried how another woman in the family would affect… everything.
Would Clark insist on telling her his secret?
How would she react?
Would she support Martha in guarding every potential action that could cause someone to suspect Clark was more than he appeared?
Martha had asked herself these questions a thousand times. But now the unknown lady who would win Clark’s heart had a face and a name.
Martha finished her meal and stood. “I canned a lot of soup today,” she said. “And I’m tired. I’ll clear this away tomorrow. Goodnight.”
With that, she walked up the stairs and into the room she had shared with Jonathan for over thirty years. Mourning him was an ache deep inside that had become as present and as familiar as her own heartbeat.
“Clark might have found his girl, Jonathan,” she muttered. “She’s perfect for him. But I’m terrified about what it might mean.”
~~~~
“You should go to bed, too,” Clark said, looking again at Lois’s tired faced and drooping shoulders. “I should not have let you do so much.”
“I can’t go to bed yet,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I have an appointment in the barn.”
“Lois!” he said, ignoring the anticipation soaring through his heart. “You’re too tired.”
“I want to. I wouldn’t sleep yet anyway. I’ve only just eaten. I need to wind down.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Then her faced clouded with uncertainty. “Oh, I’m sorry, Clark. You have to be way more exhausted that I am. We’ll leave it for tonight.”
“I wouldn’t sleep either,” he said quickly.
“Hot chocolate might help,” she suggested with a smile that melted away a significant slab of his anxiety.
“Come on,” he said, standing. “We should check on Bess and Daisy.”
They arrived at the barn, and Clark turned on the light, then took the flashlight out to the field to check on Bess. He returned to the storeroom to make the hot chocolate, his spirits bubbling at this unexpected bonus. He added a little bit of extra heat to hurry along the process.
When he returned to the barn, Lois wasn’t in their usual spot. “Lois?” he called.
“Up here,” she said as her head appeared at the top of the ladder to the loft. Her legs came down a few rungs and her hand reached towards him. “Give me one of the mugs.”
“You want to drink it up there?”
“Why not? There’s some great hay up here. And it smells wonderful.”
He handed her one of the mugs and followed her up the ladder. She had used a blanket to form a kind of sofa at the edge of the bales of hay, one bale forming the seat and others meeting the wall to form a back rest.
“How’s this?” she asked.
“Great,” he said, as his anticipation rose a little higher.
They sat down, almost at right angles, their knees within an inch of touching.
“Thanks for your help today,” Clark said. “You were amazing.”
“Amazing?” she said. “I didn’t do a tenth of what you did. You must be sore.”
“I’m OK.”
“Turn around.”
“Excuse me?”
“Turn around.” She made a circular motion with her hand.
Clark turned to face the wall of the loft. He heard Lois shuffle, and then her hands landed on his shoulders, and she started to massage him.
Her touch was phenomenal.
His shoulders weren’t aching, but his heart was.
With grief for his dad. With concern for his mom. With the pressures of the farm. With frustration at the need to subdue a part of himself.
Then her hands left his shoulders, and her fingers skimmed up his neck, sending a thousand euphoric skitters down his spine. She did it three times, and each time, it felt sublime.
She returned to his shoulders, then moved past them and began on his upper arms.
“Something wonderful happened today,” Clark said.
“Other than the hay?”
“Other than that.”
“What?”
Right now, Clark figured the most wonderful thing ever was Lois’s hands on his shoulders. “Mom and I were talking about the hay. I said I was concerned about how much you’d had to do. She reminded me that she used to help my father.”
Lois’s hands lifted from him, and she sprang up from the bale. “She mentioned your dad?” she said, her eyes glistening with excitement. “That’s wonderful.”
He stared at her, feeling a little bit intoxicated by the genuine joy and excitement in her face. “You have worked wonders,” he said.
“I haven’t done anything.”
Yes, she had. In ten days, Lois had infused their lives with her special brand of charisma. She had brought life, light, healing… and love.
She sat down behind him again and continued her massage. “I am so pleased for you both.”
“Thanks.”
“Did she say if she’s going to the grief counsellor tomorrow?”
“She said she might skip it because we’re so busy, but I encouraged her to go, and she agreed.”
“That’s good,” Lois said. “What was your dad’s name?”
“Jonathan.”
“That’s nice.” They fell silent as she worked more healing into his shoulders. After several minutes, she said, “I called Lucy this morning.”
“How did that go?”
“Lucy is fine.”
“And your parents? Have they contacted Lucy asking if she’d heard from you?”
Lois stopped massaging him and hung her hands over his shoulders, resting on her elbows. “Both of my parents called Lucy in the past week. They just wanted to throw dirt at the other. Neither mentioned me.”
“Oh, Lois,” Clark said, his heart breaking for her. He could not imagine parents who cared so little about their daughter. “I’m so sorry.”
“Lucy didn’t mention Jack, so I don’t know if they’ve told her. I didn’t say anything about that.”
“I think that’s wise.”
“I don’t think ‘wise’ fits anywhere into this mess,” Lois said.
She sounded so down after having been so excited just a short time ago, Clark couldn’t help but reach up and take one of her hands in his. Her fingers threaded through his.
They sat in silence and stillness for a time. Clark shut down his mind and its search for the right words, and just enjoyed being with Lois. Enjoyed the sense of togetherness. Enjoyed the link that seemed to have grown between them – undefinable, ethereal, but real, so very real.
To him.
Did Lois feel it, too?
A part of him believed it wasn’t possible she couldn’t be feeling it.
A larger part of him believed it wasn’t possible she could be.
Women like Lois Lane weren’t interested in men like Clark Kent.
And that was without the whole abnormal, alien aspect.
“You have an early start tomorrow,” Lois said.
He was not ready to let her go yet. “How are your shoulders?”
“OK.”
“Would you like me to rub them?”
“Yes, please.”
Her eager response thrilled him. He released her hand and spun around, finding her already turning to present her back to him. He stared at her for a moment, unable to believe she was allowing him to touch her.
He put a hand on each shoulder and started rubbing and squeezing, being very gentle.
“You can use a little more pressure,” she said. “I won’t break.”
“I didn’t know how sore you are.”
“Ahh,” she said as he increased his pressure a little. “That’s better.”
“You did a fantastic job today,” he said. “I’m very grateful for your help.”
“Is the plan for tomorrow the same as for today?”
“Yes.” Except tomorrow the rain would come and whatever hay that wasn’t in the barn would be ruined.
“You bale in the morning, and we both bring in it in the afternoon?”
“I’ll stop baling earlier than today.”
“Are you worried the rain will come before it’s all in?”
She could read him so well. “Yes.”
“Maybe the rain will be later than the forecast.”
“Maybe.”
He allowed his fingers to extend up into her neck and was rewarded with a tiny shiver that vibrated against his hands.
“Lana came today,” Lois said.
His hands stopped. He started them again, concentrating on keeping his tone steady as he asked, “Did she come to see Mom?”
“No, she came to see me.”
Clark could feel his tension creep over him again. “What did she want?”
Lois chuckled a little. “Our date worked.”
“She was responding to us going out together?”
“Yep.”
“What did she say? Was she upset? Did she upset you?”
“She told me what a wonderful husband you would make. She also told me she had been hoping you wouldn’t ask her to marry you because she didn’t want to hurt you.”
“She doesn’t want to marry me?”
“No. She loves you, but not like that.”
The tension, coiled like wire, began to loosen. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. She was sure, too.” Lois turned around, and Clark’s hands dropped to his lap. “She basically feels exactly the same as you do, Clark. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Why did she tell you?”
Lois chuckled. "Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
“She heard we went on a date. She wanted me to know that any rumours about you and her are unfounded.”
“That’s… nice,” Clark finished lamely.
“She’s very sweet.”
“Yes.”
Lois drained the rest of her hot chocolate. “Thanks for the massage.”
“You should get some sleep,” Clark said, hoping his reluctance wasn’t too obvious. “You have to be tired.”
“I am.” Lois stood, stretched, and walked over to the ladder but paused to look around the loft. “I had a great day.”
“Really?” he said, surprised.
“Really. It was hard, and the hay is awfully scratchy, but there’s enormous satisfaction is seeing this.” Her hand swept around the partially filled loft. Then, she started down the ladder.
Clark waited, his mind abuzz with a hundred thoughts.
His mom was beginning to heal. He didn’t have to worry about Lana. They could stay friends – comfortable, natural friends. He could be a dad figure to Levi without worrying what Lana was thinking.
After Lois reached the ground, Clark followed her down the ladder.
They walked together to the house and into the kitchen. Lois smiled up at him. “Sleep well, Farm Boy. You did great today.”
“Goodnight, Lois. Thank you for helping me today.”
She smiled and walked up the stairs.
Clark went outside to the porch. He could smell the hay waiting in the fields. He could easily go and bale it now. He didn’t need the baler. He could do it quickly and silently.
But it would upset his mother. She would be afraid that someone would notice. And he wouldn’t have an explanation for Lois tomorrow morning.
He could still feel Lois’s touch on his shoulders and neck. And the feel of her skin on his fingertips. The sweet scent of her hair in his nostrils.
Maybe she would offer again tomorrow. Maybe she would let him massage her shoulders again.
Maybe-
The sound of the phone cut across his thoughts. Clark moved to the phone with lightning fast speed to stop it from waking his mom or disturbing Lois, wondering who could be calling at such a late hour.
“Clark Kent,” he said.
“Clark, it’s Jack. There’s rain coming.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I’ll be there first thing tomorrow to help you bring it in.”
Clark felt his tension loosen further. “You will?”
“Yep. Sorry, don’t have any more coins. See you tomorrow.”
The line clicked dead. Clark slowly replaced the phone.
Jack would be here tomorrow.
How would that affect Lois?
Clark locked the back door and slowly climbed the stairs. He stopped at Lois’s door.
“Lois?” He tapped softly. “Lois? Are you still awake?”
“Come in, Clark.”
He opened the door and stuck his head inside her room. She was in bed, leaning up on her elbow. “Sorry to disturb you,” he said.
“Come in," she said. "What’s wrong? Is it something about the hay? Is Bess all right?”
Leaving the door open, he walked a few steps closer to the bed. “Everything’s fine. I just got a call from Jack. He’ll be here early tomorrow morning to help with the hay.”
“That’s wonderful, Clark. He'll be able to help with the hay.”
“How do you feel about meeting him?”
Lois thought for a long moment. “I don’t know.”
“You’ll be OK?”
“I’ll be fine. But would you mind not telling him about any of that other stuff?”
“Of course, I won’t.”
“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “Can Jack do the baling?”
“Yes.”
“So, while he bales, you and I can take the hay into the barn?”
“Ah, yes.”
“I’ll set my alarm. I’ll – ”
“Lois, you had a huge day today. You don’t have to be out there too early.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “We have hay to bring in.”
She was the most incredible woman he had ever known. “Goodnight, Lois.”
“Goodnight, Farm Boy.”
Clark left her room, closed the door, and went into his room.
Farm Boy.
It got him every time she called him that.
Those two words seemed wrapped in warmth. And acceptance. And maybe even a little affection.
Lois was wonderful.
He loved having her here.
But one day, probably one day soon, she was going to leave.
And that cast a dark cloud over everything.
~~~~
The next morning, Lois awoke to the sound of her alarm. She stretched, feeling a few muscles complain about their exercise yesterday, jumped from bed, and was dressed within a few minutes. She bounced down the stairs and swung into the kitchen.
She stopped.
Martha was there, making sandwiches.
Clark was there, already eating breakfast.
A man was sitting next to Clark, also eating.
He looked up, saw her, and smiled in welcome.
Lois’s heart thumped through a couple of beats.
It was Lucy’s face – masculinised – looking back at her.
In that moment, she was sure she was looking at her father’s son.
He could not be anyone else.
Clark rose. “Good morning, Lois,” he said. “This is Jack. Jack, this is Lois.”
Jack rose, too. “G’day,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Lois.” He held out his hand towards her.
She shook his hand, still reeling. Until this moment, she wasn’t sure she had fully believed that this person existed. This man, who was so close to her in some ways, and yet so unknown in every other.
“Pleased to meet you,” she managed.
Clark was looking at her, his gaze heavy with muted questions. “Is Jack driving the baler?” Lois asked.
The men sat down. “Is that OK with you, Jack?” Clark asked.
“No worries,” he said, eating hungrily.
“We’ll load it into the barn,” Clark said, looking at Lois.
She nodded, giving all her attention to Clark to keep from staring at Jack.
“We can swap if you get tired, mate,” Jack offered.
“Thanks,” Clark replied.
Lois quickly ate the breakfast Martha had put in front of her, tasting nothing. The other three held the conversation, mostly talking about what had been happening on the farm since Jack left. He offered no explanation for his absence.
Lois’s thoughts went to her family.
Her father had had the affair over twenty years ago. She had already been born. Had he been with Jack’s mother and then come home to be with her? Where had he met Jack’s mother? Had they been together for an extended period of time? A few days? A single night?
Had Jack really come all this way looking for his father? Did he know his father was refusing to meet him?
Their family of four – fractured and dysfunctional – had a fifth member who was silent, unseen and unknown.
What did Jack know?
There had been no trace of recognition in his face or manner when Clark had introduced them.
Whatever he did know, Lois was reasonably confident he didn’t suspect she was his sister.
Which raised a cluster of questions.
Did she want him to know?
Would his life be better if she opened the door to the disaster that was her family?
Was there anything to be gained for Jack?
Was there anything to be gained for the rest of them?
Was there any chance of her parents continuing their unlikely reconciliation?
If there was, how would Jack being injected into the family affect that?
What was fair to her mother? What was fair to Jack?
Clark stood up. “Ready?” he asked Jack.
Jack downed the rest of his coffee and stood. “You bet. Let’s get this done.”
Clark turned to Lois. “Finish your breakfast. It’ll take a few minutes to get everything ready.”
The two men left the room.
“It's great to have Jack here,” Martha said, smiling broadly. “Clark was so worried about the hay.”
“We weren’t going to get it in before the rain, were we?”
“No. It’s still not a certainty. But we’ll get more in than we would have without Jack.”
Lois stood. “I don’t want to keep Clark waiting.”
“Don’t overdo it, honey,” Martha said. “It’s important, but not more important than you are.”
Lois smiled. “I’ll be OK, Martha. Clark won’t let me do too much.”
~~~~
Clark stopped the truck at the start of the first row and looked at Lois. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied, opening the truck door. “Let’s get this hay.”
His hand on her arm halted her. “Something happened when you saw Jack.”
“Do you think he noticed?”
“No.”
Clark waited, his brown eyes soft with concern.
“He’s Dad’s son.”
“Are you sure?”
“He looks so much like Lucy!” Lois shook her head. “It’s weird. He’s not feminine in any way, but he looks just like Lucy.”
Clark’s hand tensed a little on her arm. “Are you OK?”
“Yes. It was a shock. I figured, on the balance of probabilities, it wasn’t him.”
“Do you think he knows?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t know who I am. It’s not as if I look much like Lucy. Or Jack.”
“What can I do?”
“Get the hay in the barn.”
Clark’s eyes sought hers, full of understanding and warmth, reminding her of the day she had met him. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “Not today.”
“Of course, I’m going to do this. We can deal with everything else once the hay is in the barn.”
He squeezed her hand and got out of the truck. Lois switched to the driver’s side, and they began.
