Thanks to Alisha, Beth, Nancy and CarolynK [as always
].
I'd done the math and thought that I'd post the part that would answer some of the big questions about Clark's history before I go out of town for three days in early Nov, but 'new math'
says that it's not scheduled until I get back. If I get enough done this week, I'll post extra to get it there before I get out of town
.
FYI: The next couple of chapters are a little different. They're the only places [so far] where the chapter doesn't also start with a POV change, but that's the way it wrote. It's been written for several months before I had any idea what chapter lengths would be or where breaks would fall, etc. so... The 39 and 40 are in the same POV all the way through as the end of 38...
Last time:
Clark
She didn't look at me as she posed her next question. "What about the baby's name?"
"What about it?"
"Daniel recommended we use something from your family or family friends or something. Do you have any thoughts on it?"
Did I have any thoughts? Of course I did, but I wasn't sure I wanted to use any of them at this point. They were names that Lana and I had talked about.
Jonathan after my dad.
Clark Jerome Jr.
For boys at least.
I did my best to hide a smile as a girl's name occurred to me. "Well, my favorite aunt is Aunt Opal."
Her eyes grew wide. "You're kidding right?"
I finally broke into a grin. "No. My favorite aunt *is* Aunt Opal, but I wouldn't want to use that for a name."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "I know we're supposed to be thinking about a name from your family but if this is a girl, I think I'd like to name her after my mom or sister, if that's okay with you. Maybe use your mom's name as a middle name or something."
"That would be okay with me."
"What if it's a boy?"
I knew instantly what name would be my choice if this baby was a boy.
"Christopher."
*~*38*~*
February 2004
~~~~~
Lois
~~~~~
How could I let her get to me like that?
I practically ran across campus, willing the tears to stay put until I got to the apartment. Or at least to the elevator.
It had been two weeks since classes started and each day had been worse than the last.
Clark had been practically bi-polar. In public, he seemed to be sweet and attentive. He never looked Lana's way – not that I saw anyway. He carried my backpack and helped me with my coat. He gave me quick kisses on the corner of my lips when Lana wasn't around and whispered something – usually something inane – in my ear or tucked my hair behind it, or both, when she was.
But in private... Well, there wasn't a whole lot of 'in private'. He was gone as much as possible, though he mentioned once that he snuck in and out the back door so as not to be seen if possible. He was probably sneaking in and out the back door of Weller Hall to see Lana. But when he was home... I sighed. We barely spoke. I curled up on my side of the bed – as close to the edge as I could get without falling off – and he did the same. If we ever even touched in the middle of the night, it didn't register with me.
I couldn't count how many times I'd cried over the last few weeks. When he was there – usually after we went to bed – the tears were silent, but no less real, as I curled around my pillow. When I was home alone, I often found myself crying and going through old sappy, movies I had stored on my external hard drive and played through the TIVO. When I felt good enough, I ate ice cream and drank Pepsi. When I didn't, I ate crackers and drank flat Sprite. When I couldn't deal with the sappy movies, I popped in a Friends or NCIS or Dawson's Creek or 90210 DVD.
But I wouldn't do any of that this time. As soon as I locked the door behind me, I kicked off my shows and curled up on the bed in as small a ball as I could with my stomach getting in the way. The tears flowed freely. It wasn't like she'd been saying things I didn't already know but for some reason it got to me.
Stupid hormones.
I *had* to get myself under control before Clark got here and I had *no* idea when that was going to be. Maybe I could manage to be asleep by the time he got here.
No such luck.
The key was scraping in the door. I wondered where he'd been this time?
In the last few weeks, he'd said he'd been to icebergs twice, the Great Wall once, the North Face of Everest once, chilling with penguins on Antarctica, Siberia, Alaska, the Barrier Reef, the North Pole – where he did *not* see Santa or Rudolph – and the Mediterranean.
Fake sleep.
Maybe that would work.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to breath normally.
He must have seen me and assumed I was sleeping, because he shut and locked the door as quietly as possible – which was hard to do when it creaked every time you moved the stupid thing.
And then I hiccupped.
"You awake?" he asked softly.
I wanted to not say anything and just lay there, but instead I hiccupped again. That wasn't going to work. I rolled over onto my back with an arm thrown over my face.
"Yeah, I'm awake," I finally said.
I heard him sit down on that stupid little loveseat and felt the mattress give a bit as he propped his feet up on it. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I told him and then hiccupped again.
"Why don’t I believe that?"
"I don't want to talk about it." What would I say? 'Oh, by the way, your girlfriend decided to remind me that you love her and the second our divorce is final the two of you will be back together and I'll just be a footnote in your life. And I don't know why I care so much – it's not like I'm in love with you and want you to stay with *me* forever – but these stupid hormones make it impossible not to cry over everything.'
Yeah. That would be smart. We were having a hard enough time acting like this was real in public. Any sign that it wasn't and I just knew that the Latislani general would be all over us in a heartbeat.
I felt the mattress depress even more as he moved to lie down next to me. Then he was tugging my arm down from my face and I only just managed to cover it with my other arm before he could see how distraught I was. If it hadn't been Lana that had upset me, he probably would have been sweet and supportive, but since it had been... telling him would just make everything worse.
Of course, then he managed to get the other arm down too.
~~~~~
Clark
~~~~~
What on earth could have upset her this much? When I finally got both arms out of the way, I noticed how red her face was and how swollen her eyes were. Whatever it was, it was serious.
"Is everything okay with the baby?" I finally asked.
She shrugged. "As far as I know."
"You ate lunch?" She still skipped sometimes I knew. I got up and ran a washcloth under cold water.
She shook her head. "No. Not yet. I haven't been home very long and I don't think I could hold anything down right now anyway."
"And you're not going to tell me what happened to upset you so much?" I asked gently, hoping to break through the wall she'd put up around herself. I wrung the cloth out and folded it up, setting it gently over her eyes before returning to stretch out next to her.
She sighed. "Fine. I need new clothes. I need to go shopping for maternity clothes and I hate shopping and that's going to make this whole thing all that more real and I'd like to stay in denial just a little bit longer, but unless you're going to let me wear some of your clothes, I have like two pairs of pants that fit. Sort of. For now."
That wasn't it. That might be bothering her, but that wasn't what had her crying her eyes out in the middle of the day.
"So, we'll go shopping." I'd go with her, if she wanted me to.
"With what money?"
She had a good point. Neither of us had jobs. Well, paying jobs. Her dad gave her a bit of spending money every month, but it wasn't much when compared to a new wardrobe. My parents did the same with me, though they'd indicated last summer that if Lana and I got married before we finished school, we'd be on our own. So far they'd sent one more check, but I didn't know if they were going to cut me off after that or not. We didn't have many expenses. We could eat on campus as part of our meal plans, but Sam still had his meal service provide us with four or five meals a week. I had no doubt that was out of concern for his grandchild rather than my welfare. That left gas for the cars and a little bit more for food and that was it. The money from our parents was enough to cover that – and actually Lois had a gas card from Sam so it was really just for the truck which I didn't drive all that much.
I looked down at her, lying there with a wash cloth over her eyes and the occasional tear still leaking out and suddenly a vision of Lana popped in my head. What would I do if this was Lana instead of Lois?
Well, first I'd kiss her. And if she wanted me to, I'd make love to her and help her forget about all of this for a while and show her how beautiful I still thought she was – though I knew she'd have been griping about losing her figure. I closed my eyes and saw her there. Yes, I'd kiss her and then I'd kiss every one of her stretch marks because they were badges of honor brought about because she was carrying my baby.
I shook myself mentally. I couldn’t go there. Not even in my mind. But if this was Lana... and we needed money, what would I do? I'd probably be working three jobs if I had to. But here? With Lois? I wasn't working at all. I felt a bit guilty about that, all of the sudden.
<But her dad has money,> a stubborn inner voice told me, <and lots of it. Why can't he buy her clothes?>
<Because she's my wife and it's my responsibility to make sure she's taken care of,> my conscience told the voice I now recognized as my inner teenager.
<She wasn't supposed to be your wife,> he argued back. <You were supposed to be engaged to Lana by now.>
<It doesn't matter,> my conscience snapped at him. <I went into this marriage willingly and vowed before God to take care of her. I couldn't *not* do that.>
Lois spoke and interrupted the argument between my two selves. "My dad gave me a credit card a long time ago to use to buy clothes and stuff when I needed it. He always said as long as I didn't abuse it and buy stuff that was ridiculously expensive or go way overboard on the wardrobe, I could use it whenever I wanted. He hasn't told me I can't use it anymore, so I'll use it to get some maternity clothes."
"Are you sure?"
She shrugged and adjusted the wash cloth slightly. "I don't know why he wouldn't let me. He doesn't even look at the statements. His accountant does and tells him if there's anything unusual."
"Okay then. Do you want me to go with you?" Did I really want to go? I didn't know, but I would.
"We'll see. I probably won't go until this weekend."
"Well, if you want to borrow some sweats or something until then, you can." I surprised myself when I said that.
"Thanks." She didn't sound like she really meant it.
"So are you going to tell me what's really upset you?"
She moved the wash cloth enough to glare at me. "You don't think not fitting into my clothes isn't enough to upset me?"
I shook my head. "Not this much."
She sighed but didn't say anything. Finally, she changed the subject. "So, did you go swim with the whales today? Or was it polar bears? Or penguins? Or play in a big pit of venomous snakes? Or maybe you just spent a nice day conversing with some Sherpas."
I winced. I should have known telling her where I'd actually been wasn't a good idea. I'd tried to play it off a joke, like it could be coming a standing, running joke that was ours – me coming up with creative places I'd been to study. I thought we could probably use something like that, but apparently she didn't appreciate what she thought was my sense of humor. Fortunately, today's truth was a bit more tame. "Just studying at the library."
I saw the tears coming out from under the wash cloth increase significantly. Why would studying at the library make her cry?
I knew I didn't really love her – not the way a guy should love his wife – but the hurt in her voice tore my heart until what she said sunk in.
"You know, if you were with Lana, just tell me. Please. Don’t make stuff up and treat me like I'm clueless."
She thought I was with Lana?
"What are you talking about?" I finally asked.
"If you were with Lana, just tell me. Don’t lie to me and tell me you were melting icebergs or something."
"I wasn't with Lana. I promise." Why would she think I was with Lana? "Why would you think that?"
"I told you I didn't mind if you kept seeing her – that I even understood that you would want to – but I did ask that you be discreet."
"I haven't seen her. Not outside of class. Or maybe walking around campus."
"And you were at the library just now? Studying?"
"Yes." I was. I'd been there for a couple of hours.
"So that’s what they're calling it these days," she muttered.
"Calling what?"
"Sex."
What on earth was she talking about? Studying at the library as a euphemism for sex?
And if 'studying at the library' was another way of saying sex and she thought I was with Lana...
She thought I was having sex with Lana?
"You think I'm having sex with Lana?" I asked her, incredulous.
She just shrugged.
It was too much. I stood up and stared down at her. "You think I'm having sex with Lana." It was a statement this time.
She didn't move.
"Don't you?" I demanded.
"Aren't you?"
Answering a question with a question. One of my favorite games to play with Lois. Or not. Not now.
"No. I'm not having sex with Lana. I've never had sex with Lana." My voice was getting louder even though I knew I needed to keep my cool.
She pulled the washcloth off her eyes and sat up, glaring at me. "When was the last time you saw her? Besides in class?"
I shrugged.
She snorted.
"What?" I glared down at her.
Apparently, she decided she didn't want to be looked down on anymore than strictly necessary, because she stood up and faced me, arms crossed in front of her. "I *saw* you."
"You saw me having sex with Lana? When? We made out on my bed last semester a few times, but we never..."
I noticed the tears coming closer together. What was I doing? Couldn’t this calm down and we could talk about whatever it was more rationally?
"I saw you two at the library. In one of the study rooms. Were you offering her a piece of bubble gum? Because that's sure not what it looked like."
I winced. I'd known at the time it was wrong, but I'd done it anyway. "You saw that?" I had to be sure.
"You mean you and your girlfriend playing tonsil hockey where anyone and their nephew from Latislan could see? Yeah, I saw it."
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "She's not my girlfriend anymore. Technically, she hasn't been since we got married, but I saw her the day after she got back and ended things officially."
"So you *were* offering her a piece of gum then?"
"No." My heart was heavy at the thought of how willing I'd almost been to break my wedding vows. "I was kissing her."
"All I asked was that you be discreet. The library isn't discreet."
"I know and I'm sorry."
"Sorry you kissed her or sorry I saw you?"
Which was it? Was I sorry I kissed Lana? Was I sorry that Lois saw me kiss her? "Yes," I finally said quietly. "I'm sorry I kissed her and I'm sorry you saw it."
"Did you kiss her the day after she got back?" she practically demanded.
"Yes," I told her, ashamed of myself even as I said it.
"And you didn't make love to her?"
"No!" I practically shouted. "I stood in a chapel and promised before God that I would be faithful to you! And I have been." Did kissing count as being unfaithful? Deep down, I knew it probably did. No, not probably. It did count. "I kissed her when I saw her after we got back and I kissed her in the library."
"And you didn't do more than kiss?"
"Okay," I admitted. "It was pretty heavy kissing, but just kissing. That's all." Somehow trying to justify kissing another woman to my wife didn't make it sound okay.
"You didn't throw her on your bed in our dorm room and kiss her and touch her and make love to her?"
"No! I didn't! We didn't even go into our old dorm room."
"Fine. Her bed. Linda's bed. The floor. Up against the wall. Wherever.
"No."
"You didn't want to?"
"I didn't say that," I growled at her. "I've loved her for as long as I can remember. Of course, I wanted to. I've wanted to for a long time but we promised ourselves a long time ago we would wait for marriage."
"You are married."
"Not to Lana."
"But you wanted her?"
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I did."
"Do you still?"
"What?"
"Do you still want her? If you found yourself alone with her in a cabin in the middle of a snowstorm tomorrow, would you want her?"
Why was she doing this to me? To herself? I just stared at her for a minute, aware but not understanding why so much seemed to ride on this answer. "Would I want her? Yes. Would I do anything about it? No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes." I was. As long as I was married, I wouldn't make love with anyone who wasn't my wife. I knew that.
"You could take all of your clothes off and all of her clothes off to try to stay warm, just like we did, and not make love to her?"
"I didn't make love to you," I pointed out.
"You haven't been in love with me since you were six," she snapped back.
"No, I haven't, but no matter what – even if we both stripped down to stay warm, I wouldn't." I sank down on the love seat.
"Why not? No one would ever know except the two of you. And you know there's no possibility of her getting pregnant. You're completely naked with her and you wouldn't do it?"
"I wouldn't be *completely* naked," I said playing with my wedding band.
She waited for me to explain.
"I'd still have my wedding band on and that means I don't make love to anyone but you as long as it's on."
"Pretend you lost it."
I glared at her. "Are you *trying* to get me to say I'd cheat on you? That I'd deliberately put you and the baby in jeopardy from that bastard because of our 'fake' marriage? Come on, Lois, you know me better than that!"
"Then are you planning on making love to me?"
Her eyes held mine, some sort of defiance written in them. Finally, I broke the contact to stare at the ring I still fiddled with. "No," I said quietly, though I wasn't sure why it would matter – we were friends, nothing more.
"Did you promise *her* you wouldn't?"
"What are you doing? Why are you doing this?" I finally asked her.
"Answer the question," she insisted.
I leaned forward and rested my forearms on my knees. "Promised might be a bit strong, but I did tell her I wasn't planning on making love to you."
"Did you ask her to wait for you?"
"She told me she would and I told her part of me wanted her to, but that I wouldn't ask her to wait that long for me." I didn’t look at her as I said it.
"What did she say?"
I sighed. "She didn't say anything else; not really."
"Do you expect her to?"
"To what?"
"To wait for you."
"Expect her to? No."
"Do you want her to?"
Boy, she wasn't going for the easy questions was she? "Yeah, I do," I finally told her honestly.
"So you are planning on make love to her someday?"
I shrugged. "Maybe someday. But not while we're married."
She took a deep breath before she asked her next question. "Did you tell her everything? That it's not real and only temporary? Did you tell her this isn't your baby?"
My mouth opened once or twice but nothing came out.
*****
TBC
