Sorry, I'm a little late again ... but it is still Monday.
Previously on My Wife The Boss ...
Oh, good. This particular target was from his earlier life, way before he'd met Mary, but it was here he'd begun the downward spiral into his sad life, from which Mary had rescued him for a few years.
If only he'd found the courage to stand up for himself earlier, perhaps he'd have been able to save Mary.
“Oh, Mary,” he whispered to the empty room. “I miss you ...”
He swiped at his eyes with shaking hands. There was no room in his life for sentimentality.
Right now, he had to get his butt in gear if he wanted to make it into work on time. He hated working as an all-night waiter at that sleazy cafe; the hours were long and the regulars treated him like some sort of indentured servant, but he needed the money to fund his plans.
And that made it bearable.
*****
Continued ...
Chapter Three
The Wrong Path
This year, the Kents' Thanksgiving Day was truly a celebration. Their family was again complete, something none of them had ever considered possible. Clark's presence, rather than his memory, made the atmosphere joyous and spirited.
In a benevolent move, Lois had asked her parents and her sister to join the festivities, and had been happily surprised when all had accepted her invitation.
Sadly, Ellen had suffered a stroke three years earlier and was still quite frail, but her illness had had one advantage. The Lanes had never remarried. Though their relationship had improved since Lois and Clark's wedding, neither were willing to take the risk of total commitment. Yet, when Ellen had most needed Sam, he'd given up his independence, found a suitable house in the Metropolis suburbs and moved them both in. In his later years, Sam Lane had proved to be a very competent and caring ex-husband.
Lucy's current lifestyle too had astonished her big sister. After a disastrous marriage to a man Lois would describe as a Neanderthal, Lucy had renounced love, gone back to college and was now a successful partner in a PR company in Los Angeles.
Oh, how things changed!
She was the happily married, albeit working, wife while Lucy was the driven career woman.
Yet Lois was content with her life. She smiled broadly as she stuffed the large turkey. Who would have thought she'd gain such a feeling of accomplishment from a domestic chore? Clark was home; her children were excited but behaving well; her in-laws, parents and sister had come to visit, and Jimmy would be joining them for dinner. Why wouldn't she smile?
Perhaps a more mature Lucy and Jim might actually hit it off with each other.
A gentle kiss was pressed on her neck from behind and Clark's voice whispered in her ear.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked gently.
“Oh, nothing really. Just life in general.” Lois turned into his arms, wrapping her arms around him, careful to keep her dirty hands off his clean blue shirt. She loved him in blue, and not necessarily Superman's blue. Now that she thought of it, she loved him in any color, especially skin tones. She giggled again.
“Lois?” The timbre of his voice rose in what she recognized as confusion.
Still smiling, she pressed her head against his broad chest. “I'm just contemplating how my life has changed so much for the better from last Thanksgiving to this.”
At that she heard Clark's laugh rumble against her cheek. “Mine too. In fact, I never celebrated Thanksgiving last year. Wasn't something that was all that popular in China. Now New Year's is different.” Clark leaned back to look down into her face, but he didn't loosen his grip around her. “I got to celebrate that twice. The Chinese one, and a Scottish Hogmany. Mac was a big fan of that. He insisted all the workers and villagers should go 'first footing'. That was quite an experience. I swear Mac could down more whiskey than me without it affecting him.” Clark laughed again. “Because he didn't know about my genetics, he assumed I was a connoisseur.”
Lois eyebrows rose. “So even though you'd lost your powers, alcohol still didn't make you drunk?”
“Nope. But then I didn't actually drink as much as Mac thought. Marge taught me to hide my glass when Mac was dishing it out, or to conveniently lose my drink. It's what she does.” Clark grinned, thinking of Marge's inventiveness, but he quickly added as he saw Lois pout. “Not that Mac is addicted like your mother once was. He swore by a glass of Scotch at night; said it was good for his circulation, but I only ever saw him drink a lot at New Year. It's traditional, I think.”
“Then maybe we should get in more Scotch for him when they come to visit this New Year's.” She was still looking a little doubtful. Her mother had finally conquered her addiction, and Lois herself enjoyed a glass or two of wine, but she was uncomfortable in the company of those who drank a lot.
Thinking she looked adorable with that smear of stuffing on her cheek, Clark quickly kissed her lips. Since his return, he couldn't get enough of kissing Lois. “I don't think you need to worry, honey. Mac won't expect it.”
“But I want them to feel at home. We could do this 'first footing' thing. Is it some sort of country dance ... like line dancing?”
Again Clark's grin grew wider, his eyes sparkling. “No. That would be the Gay Gordons.”
Lois almost choked. “What? A gay dance is a Scots New Year's tradition?”
“I'm sure 'gay' didn't have that connotation when the dance was invented, but I'm sure Mac would be happy to teach you. He had us all doing it last New Year.” Clark couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of Chinese and Caucasians muddling through the steps. That occasion had been one of his happier moments in his lost years. “No, first footing is a custom where all the neighbors visit each other's houses on New Year's Eve. The first person to come across your doorstep is supposed to be a tall, dark and handsome male, so I was always pushed in first.” Clark blushed in embarrassment. “I guess because I was the tallest and my hair is still semi-dark ... if you ignore the gray streaks.”
One of Lois' hands trailed playfully through his hair. “Oh, I don't know. I think the gray is distinguished and you still fit the third part of that description.”
“You're in love with me, honey.” Clark smiled down on her, then his eyes gleamed teasingly again. “But don't interrupt. I'm not finished with my story. You bring a piece of coal with you and say 'lang may yer lum reek.”
Lois lifted a dish-cloth from the counter and swiped Clark. “Now you really are joking!”
Pretending to be hurt, Clark flinched, only he didn't have to pretend all that much these days, but he threw his head back and laughed. “No, Sweetheart. I swear this is true. That saying signifies that you want the householder to always have enough coal to keep their fire burning, so wishing them prosperity, I guess. I have no idea about the tall and handsome bit, though I think it might have something to do with warding off the devil ... oh, and you always carry a bottle of Scotch with you, so you can repay the host's hospitality.”
“Wow!” Lois' eyes were wide open. “And I thought Kansas crop worshiping was bad ... It just goes to show you don't know how other people live.”
“I could always tell you about the Chinese New Year too.”
“Don't bother. Metropolis has a fairly large Chinatown, so I kinda know about that one ... though I expect it's got a little turned around in exportation. Meanwhile, we have our own traditions to see to, so stop distracting me.” Lois poked Clark's chest with her finger. “You know I'm not the best cook in the world.”
Clark's head tipped to the side. “Is it my imagination, or have you improved over the last few years?”
“Necessity, I guess,” Lois said with a shrug, lowering her head. “I lost my own personal chef and I couldn't rely on your mother all the time.”
As had often happened over these last few months, their conversation changed quickly into a more sombre tone.
Leaning his chin on her hair, Clark whispered gently. “I'm sorry.”
“No!” Lois' head lifted sharply, causing Clark to move quickly to avoid a collision. “Sorry,” she said, understanding what had almost happened. Clark's invulnerability hadn't really been tested yet and she had no wish to try it out now. “Don't apologize. We've been here before and you aren't to blame ...”
“But if you hadn't married Superman ... The North Koreans wouldn't have wanted an ordinary man.”
“If you'd been an ordinary man, you could have gotten sick, or been killed crossing the road ... and our jobs are dangerous. Any number of criminals could have tried to take revenge ...” Her voice failed for a second; that scenario still applied, and she didn't want to go down that road today. Her chin firmed as she locked glances with Clark. “I never had any regrets. OK, that's not true. I regretted your absence every single day of those years, but I wouldn't have changed one moment of the time we shared together. It just hurt so much when I thought it was over.”
Clark tightened his arms around Lois once more, burying his face in her hair. “Didn't you ever look for someone to console you?” When he spoke his voice was stilted. They'd never talked about this, but perhaps the very domesticity of this scene gave him the courage to broach the subject. He lifted his head to study Lois' troubled eyes. “I'm not objecting, you know. In fact, I would understand completely. You thought I was gone forever.”
“No. Clark, I never ... but I'll have you know it wasn't through lack of offers, either.”
A tiny smile curled Clark's lips. “I don't doubt that,” he said, a touch wistfully. “Any man would be lucky to be with you.”
“I didn't want anyone else. You're kind of a hard act to follow.”
Clark's shoulders lifted disparagingly. “But having a partner might have made your life easier ...”
“But I didn't want another partner.” Lois leaned closer to his body, if that was physically possible. “You're the only man I've ever wanted ... the only man I'll ever want!” She brushed her lips against his throat and felt his pulse quicken. “But what about you?” Her voice trembled. “Didn't you ever look?”
“I was looking ...”
Lois pushed out of Clark's embrace, taking a step backward, only to smack into the kitchen counter. “What?”
“I was looking for my dream woman.” Clark closed the gap and placed his fingers on Lois' cheek, stroking gently. “I just didn't know she was you, honey. Not until you walked into Marge's spare bedroom. My heart recognized you long before my head.”
“Oh ... you,” Lois gasped, then said nothing more as her lips were involved in a much nicer occupation than talking.
“Oh boy! Can't you two be trusted to do a job right?” Another teasing voice asked from the doorway as a young man in a black suit and mask entered the room. “I've been out on a busy holiday patrol and I come back, looking forward to a good meal, and I find my parents making out in the kitchen.” Matt winked, before spinning back into his casual clothes.
“Hi, Son,” Clark replied. “You'll have to blame your mother for looking so cute with that stuffing smeared on her face. I couldn't resist ...”
“What?” Lois repeated, but she squirmed away from Clark and ran over to a small mirror on the back wall. She swiped at her face with the dish towel which was clutched forgotten in her hand. “Why didn't you tell me?” she demanded, giving Clark a reproving glance.
“I was getting around to removing it myself.”
“Oh, gross!” Matt harrumphed and went to raid the fridge for a snack. It didn't look like he'd be getting his dinner anytime soon. “You know, shouldn't that turkey be in the oven by now, if you want it to be ready for the gang coming for dinner. Unless you want me to ...” Matt waved in the general direction of his eyes.
“No way,” Lois assured him with much feeling. “Last time you tried that we ended up eating beef briquette.”
“You did?” Clark asked in amusement, though he was also interested in the answer. “I thought you had control of your heat vision, Matt.”
“I have. Funny thing is though, Dad, I've inherited your superpowers, but I'm afraid I got Mom's cooking skills ... or lack of them.”
“Don't push your luck, Matt,” Lois said, throwing the towel at him. “I might send you to your room without dinner.”
“Nah, you wouldn't.” Matt's impish grin sparkled, lighting up his face. “Your bark is worse than your bite.”
“Oh, I don't know.” Clark joined in the conversation cheerfully. “There's a whole lot of criminals in jail who wouldn't agree with you about Mad Dog Lane.”
Lois looked askance at Clark, after all, there were as many who were no longer safely behind bars. Villains whom Clark had been just as responsible in bringing to justice, who might now be plotting their revenge ... and Clark was back on the streets and not exactly invulnerable.
Why did he have to remind her of that fact, turning her into a worrywart? This day was for appreciating what they had and not for wallowing in groundless fears. She quashed her bad thoughts and pointed at both men with mock seriousness.
“And you could join Matt in my doghouse, Clark, so be careful what you say.” When Clark winked at her, she couldn't hide a grin. “But I know that cooking skills can be learned, so since you're here, Matt, and you're complaining that dinner won't be ready in time, you can help. You know where the knives are and there are potatoes that need peeling. Even you can manage that, so get to it.”
“Yes, Ma'am.”
As Lois marshaled her super troops, all three laughed and settled down to prepare the meal for their very special Thanksgiving Day.
*****
Young Vicky Kent skipped along the corridor to the stairs which led to the principal' s office. The sun, shining through the windows, felt warm, though she knew it was cold out, and she was so lighthearted, she could almost believe she was flying.
The last few days had been about the best days of her life. Her whole family had come to her house for Thanksgiving; Grandma Martha and Grandpa Jon, her Lane grandparents, Aunt Lucy and Uncle Jimmy, though they weren't together, which seemed to disappoint Mom.
Mom had cooked most of the meal, with a little help from Dad, and everyone had said she'd excelled herself. Vicky thought that meant the food tasted good, even better than normal, but what made the day really special for her was the fact that Dad was there. She was still pinching herself over his return, making sure she wasn't dreaming.
Now she was back at school. Though she didn't really mind lessons. In fact, she liked them, and if she wanted to be a famous investigative reporter like her parents, she had to study. Besides, school was fun! She had lots of friends, and she was about to be made into a peer mentor. How cool was that! Mind you, she'd had to look up 'peer' and 'mentor' in the dictionary, 'cause she didn't want anyone to know that she hadn't been quite sure what that was, but it was an important job and she'd make sure she did it well. She'd make Dad proud of her.
Today he was coming to talk to Mrs. Perez. The school needed her parents' permission before they could appoint her, which was another word she'd learned lately. For the first time, her father was attending a meeting with her principal, a circumstance that swelled Vicky's heart. Since she'd been old enough to go to school, it had always been her mother who'd dealt with her teachers 'cause Dad had been missing.
This was a big day for both her and Dad.
She'd reached the main office and could see Miss Smith, the head secretary, keeping an eye our for her arrival. The woman beckoned her over to where her father was waiting, a big smile on his face, which deepened as she approached.
Vicky grinned back, but remembered to be polite. “Hello, Miss Smith.”
“Good morning, Vicky.” Miss Smith inclined her head slightly. “Mr. Kent, I'm afraid Mrs. Perez was called away for a brief moment, but she'll be with you and Vicky soon. Please go in and take a seat while you wait,” the secretary finished breathlessly, causing Vicky to glance at her appraisingly.
There was a goofy grin on Miss Smith's face. Vicky had noticed that Dad's smiles sometimes had that effect on females, even though Miss Smith was old ... maybe over forty, and she wasn't married. She probably wasn't used to smiles from the opposite sex. At least, that's what Vicky's friend, Emily, said. Actually, it was Emily's brother who'd told her, and he was in sixth grade, so he knew about these sort of things.
“Thank you, Miss Smith,” Dad said, bestowing another one of his friendly smiles on the secretary, then he stretched out a hand to Vicky as they were ushered into the principal' s office. Dad bent low to whisper in her ear. “Hi, Tory. Did I tell you I'm very proud that you've been chosen to be a peer mentor?”
Vicky was sure her feet weren't touching the ground.
They hadn't even had time to sit down when Mrs. Perez hurried into the homey office. She was just as old as Miss Smith and she'd been a teacher at this school forever, but she had a husband and kids. In fact, one of her daughters was a friend of Sarah's -- another gymnast.
She walked forward holding out her hand. “I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Kent, and may I say, it's so nice to see you again.”
Dad shook Mrs. Perez's hand, like the gentleman he was. Grandma Martha liked all the Kent kids to have good manners. “Don't apologize. We just got here.”
“I was so pleased to hear you were home,” Mrs. Perez continued. “Your family must be very happy.”
“Not half as happy as I am, Mrs. Perez.” Dad said, sliding into the chair he was offered.
“Vicky, would you like to sit next to your father.” Mrs. Perez instructed, rather than asked, then turned back to Dad. “But, of course, Mr. Kent, I can believe that. Still, it's good to have you back and looking so well. It is such a long time since you were here for a parent/teacher meeting. Back in Sarah's time, I remember.”
“Yes. It would be.” Dad was nodding. “You were one of Sarah's favorite teachers. Though I see you've been promoted now.”
“Mr. Wilson retired, which was quite a loss to the school, but I was honored that they asked me to fill the position.” Mrs. Perez sat in her chair, resting her arms on the desk. “I hope I run the school as well as he did, but sometimes I miss teaching the children ... being on the cutting edge, so to speak.”
“I think my wife would know where you're coming from, Mrs. Perez. Lois wanted to be here, but unfortunately the pressure of being the editor-in-chief got in the way this time.”
“That's not a problem. Mrs. Kent did an excellent job while you were ... lost. Holding down an important job and looking after three children couldn't have been easy. She must be so relieved now that you're back and sharing the responsibilities. Now, shall we get down to the business of making Vicky into a peer mentor.” Mrs. Perez glanced over at Vicky, who sat up straighter in her chair and grinned. “You got our letter suggesting she take part in the new program, Mr. Kent?”
“Yes.” Dad flashed another smile. “Lois and I are extremely proud that Vicky should be chosen as a mentor. We've spoken with her about it over the past two days and and we're sure she'll take her role very seriously.”
Vicky was just vain enough to enjoy hearing good things about herself ... and just confident enough to know her dad was right. She would never not do a job well, not if she could help it. Vicky thought she might get that determination from Mom.
“We have no doubt of it,” Mrs. Perez replied. “We've chosen a number of our students, and Vicky was among the first we decided upon. She's very popular among her classmates, very friendly and outgoing, which is important for a mentor.”
Vicky definitely got that part from Dad.
“And she's not afraid to speak her mind if she sees any fellow student acting inappropriately,” Mrs. Perez added.
That was from Mom again. Vicky almost giggled; her mother wasn't afraid of anyone.
“We've always tried to teach our children to do what was right, even though they might find that difficult to do sometimes,” Dad said, folding his arms. “I know they're not angels, but they are good kids.” He sent a sideways smile in Vicky's direction.
“Of course they are. So shall we get started? I'll go over everything that would be expected of Vicky as a mentor and the training schedule we've set up. Then, if you agree, and Vicky is still interested, of course, you can sign the paperwork giving your permission, or if you'd like more time to discuss things with Mrs. Kent. So much red tape these days in the school system ...” Mrs. Perez began to open a file which lay on her desk when a loud bang and a shudder startled the people within the office. “Oh, my goodness! What was that?”
Dad was already moving.
“Stay there. Both of you,” he said over his shoulder and Vicky knew by the tone of his voice that was an order. “That sounded like a bomb!”
He disappeared into the heavy, smoky air that filled the outer office, slamming the door behind him, leaving Vicky wide-eyed and trying her best to live up to her mother's reputation for bravery.
*****
Clark stood just inside the closed door of Lois' sanctuary, the blinds drawn to give them some privacy from the busy newsroom outside, his voice striving for calm as he relayed the morning's incident to his troubled wife.
“Please, honey, relax. Vicky is fine ... really.”
“Maybe I should go check on her,” Lois said anxiously, poised to rush off at any moment. “I'm her mother.”
Clark moved across the room and laid his hands gently on her shoulders. “I took her to Mom and Dad's and they know how to look after her. Besides, Vicky held up really well through it all, and she doesn't think she needs looking after. A bit like someone else I used to know.” He ended on a reflective chuckle, which Lois couldn't help but share.
“You're right, of course. Vicky would hate it if I started fussing ... and if you're sure she's OK.”
“I am, Lois.”
“Fine, you win. Martha and Jonathan are perfectly capable of taking care of Vicky.” Gently, she shrugged Clark's hands from her shoulders and returned to sit in her chair behind the desk, where she removed a tissue from its container and blew her nose, covering up a sniffle.
“God, Clark, who would want to bomb a school?”
Clark shifted uneasily. “I've been asking myself that question since it happened ... and if I could have stopped it somehow. I didn't hear a thing ... no warning whatsoever.”
“Do letter bombs give off warnings?” she asked, shredding the tissue she still held within her grasp.
“To a superhero? I wouldn't know!” Clark ground out, walking away from her to the bookshelves which lined the back wall, his hands clenching the polished wood. “I should have been able to do something, Lois!”
“From what you've told me, you did as much as you could.” Part of Lois' brain wondered if the shelves could withstand the pressure of semi-super fingers. How would she explain the indents of fingerprints to anyone who noticed? But before she could answer herself, Clark was moving again.
He pushed himself away from the unit to march restlessly across the office. “Only this time it wasn't enough. That poor girl got hurt ... And, the thing is, it won't be enough ever again.”
“You don't know that, sweetheart. You've regained some of your powers. You have to give yourself time.”
Clark halted for a moment, turning to her, looking for some form of benediction. “And if Bernie's right and they never improve?”
His anguished stare almost persuaded her to lie, but she loved him too much to do that. “Then you'll find a way to go on. Once, when you were blinded, you told me that if fate decreed you lost your sight, then you'd learn to be the best blind person you could be.” Compassion filled her and she leaned over her desk toward him, willing him to hear her. “The years haven't changed you, my love. You are still the strongest man I will ever have the grace to know.”
“You have such faith,” he said, his voice almost a monotone, as if he doubted he could live up to her confidence.
The sounds from the outside office faded into the background as Clark resumed his pacing back to the book-lined wall. Lois couldn't help but notice that while he walked, his right hand tugged subconsciously at the stump of his missing finger. Over the years, Lois had become accustomed to all Clark's mannerisms, but this was a new sign of tension, and one which tore her heart in two. It reminded her of the terrible things he'd gone through while they were apart.
Suddenly, when he could go no further, Lois saw the tension seep from Clark's body. He swung to face her and she quickly relaxed her expression. Right now, he didn't need to know that she shared his pain.
“I'm sorry, Lois. I do get frustrated sometimes, realizing what I can't do.” He offered her a small smile. “It does hurt ... and that's why I'm so lucky to have you to remind me to count my blessings.”
Lois rose from her desk and went to wrap her arms around him. “Well, that's what we wives are for, general cheerleading and reminding our husbands not to be lunkheads.”
Returning her hug, Clark buried his nose into her satiny hair, inhaling her clean, familiar scent. “Not that I'm complaining, but is this kind of cheerleading allowed in the Chief's office?” he asked her left, exquisitely formed, earlobe.
“Of course, lunkhead.” She grinned up at him. “If the chief is involved. Just don't go bringing any of your other partners in here.”
“I think you can forget that idea. Jimmy isn't my type. But speaking of Jim, I suppose I should get back to work, and kidding aside, I'm just grateful that no one was killed this morning.”
“Oh, Clark, I thought we were through with villains attacking us!”
Clark's eyebrows rose incredulously. He'd been thinking exactly the same thing himself, but now he wasn't so sure. “You believe we were the targets?”
“It's happened before, frequently.” As Clark's brows arched even higher, Lois went on. “Sure, I'll admit it hasn't happened recently, but then you've been gone for years and I've not exactly been on the front line ...”
“I don't believe anyone is out to get us,” Clark interrupted.
“Do you have any clues to substantiate that?” Lois asked, her voice becoming more
businesslike as she slipped into her role as editor.
Clark threw Lois a questioning look. “Come on. Shouldn't that be the other way around? We can't start with a supposition and work backwards.”
“Why not? I used to do it all the time.” Lois sounded aggravated as she backed toward her desk.
“You had great instincts, honey,” Clark said, consolingly. “Most of us aren't quite so talented.”
“Had?” Lois pounced, totally ignoring his second statement. “You think because I'm behind a desk that I've lost my edge?” Actually, Lois had wondered that a time or two herself, but she wasn't willing to admit that to her husband.
“No!” Clark stared back at Lois. His hands splayed wide in an apology, then dropped forgotten to his side. “I just think that this time you might be letting your emotions get in the way, which isn't surprising or wrong, but ...”
“But?”
Having regained his objectivity, thanks to Lois' efforts, Clark took a moment to collect his thoughts. “It just doesn't sit right with me. I still have no idea who is doing this or why, but I don't think we were the intended victims. We weren't even in the same room ...”
“The bomber couldn't have known you'd be somewhere else ...”
“Lois, think about it. How would the bomber even know we'd be there? I seriously doubt Tory or I were his targets.”
“I still don't believe we should dismiss that theory so quickly.” Lois frowned in concentration. “We made that appointment with Mrs. Perez before Thanksgiving. I was the only one who couldn't make it. There are a lot of people out there who take issue with you and me, and it is the second bomb we've been in close proximity to recently.”
Clark sighed audibly and dropped into the plaid chair. “I'm not ready to buy that. Driving by a van which just happened to explode five minutes or so later doesn't mean we're in someone's sights, and with this bomb, the villain would have had to mail the package before the holiday to be sure it would arrive in time for our meeting with the principal.”
“But that's entirely possible.” Lois too sat, letting the familiarity of her editor's chair calm her.
“Lois, come on. It's a stretch ...”
She pointed a finger at him. “You know how I feel about coincidences, and this happens to be the second one in just as many weeks.”
“I agree, but sometimes coincidences are just ... coincidences.” Clark leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. “I'm more concerned who that bomb was really meant for, and I doubt it was poor Angela either.”
The corner of Lois' lips turned down as she was reminded again that coincidences did exist ... and she was upset for the poor assistant who'd had a letter bomb explode in her face. “Do you know how she is?”
Clark grimaced. “Thankfully, it was another small bomb, though bigger than the last one, but it blew up as she opened it. Her hands and arms took most of the blast, though her face was burnt too. Actually, if it hadn't been for Miss Smith -- seems she has an advanced diploma in first aid -- the poor girl would have gone into shock, and things could have been much worse. But Angela is going to have to undergo some pretty extensive plastic surgery, and they're not sure if there's any permanent damage to her eyes.” Clark stood up from his chair and began his restless pacing again. “She's not much older than a child, Lois.”
“Old enough to make some crazy person mad at her ...”
“I really don't think so. Miss Smith told me that she usually opens Mrs. Perez's letters, but she was compiling a special report for the school board and had asked Angela to do the mail. The poor woman felt so guilty.”
“Why? She didn't send the bomb! It annoys me, Clark. Everyone else feels responsible and the perpetrator is enjoying himself.” Lois rose again, too fidgety to stay in one place. As she came around the desk, Clark caught her and pulled her close. “I can't help thinking what if the explosion had been bigger ... what if you and Vicky had been closer ...”
Clark's fingers slid into Lois' hair. “Don't, honey. Don't torture yourself. Vicky is fine with Mom and Dad. They closed the school for the rest of the day and they'll let us know what the plans are for tomorrow. Believe me, Vicky wasn't at all fazed. In fact, she was annoyed when the police asked us to leave. I think she was hoping to investigate.” A soft smile tugged at his lips. “I had to explain that we couldn't go blundering around a crime scene, and she told me she'd be very careful. But I told her the bomb squad had to do a sweep of the school. I think that was the only thing that stopped her.”
Lois returned his smile, but no matter how worried she was, the reporter in her was never far from the surface. “Did you manage to check it out?”
“As much as possible, but that's not quite so easy for me these days. I never realized how much I relied on the powers,” he said, ruefully. “Luckily, I had backup.”
“Matt showed up?”
“Oh yeah. He told me he was between classes when he heard a police report of a bombing at Vicky's school, so he dashed over. It was just as well he showed up because there was a risk of a fire starting. I'd just managed to find the extinguisher when Matt took over. Once he'd contained everything, I asked him to take a 'closer' look at the desk and surrounding office, but he didn't spot any clues.”
Lois shrugged in frustration and leaned closer to her husband for a second or two, then she returned to business mode, taking a few steps back to her desk. “Pretty much like last time then?”
“Seems so. Fortunately, Jim's police sergeant was on the scene and he's agreed to keep me in the loop,” he said, sounding a little weary.
Once more, Lois turned back to face Clark. “Are you sure you're up to this, honey?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Lois knew she'd made another mistake. Clark was not amused by her concern, but she couldn't dismiss her fears. She saw his brow wrinkle and a hurt look flash in his eyes, even though he tried his best to conceal it with humor.
“I know I've been away for a few years, Lois, but isn't investigative reporting like riding a bike? You never really forget how to do it.”
Closing the small distance between them, Lois caught Clark's hands. They were taut with tension. “Honey, I don't doubt your ability to write.” She lifted their clasped hands to her chest, her voice becoming a whisper. “It's the lack of super powers that worries me.”
Obviously, her statement didn't mollify Clark as much as she'd hoped. “You worry I can't work without the advantage of the powers? Because I've got to tell you I didn't use them all that regularly before ... and mostly you had to talk me into it.” Now he sounded just plain indignant.
“No, Clark, that's not ...”
The door behind them banged open and Jimmy's inconvenient entrance was like a blast from the past. “Hey. I got a phone call from Jed Peterson. Metro Radio just got a message from someone called The Avenger. We should go talk to them, partner.”
*****
tbc ...
