Lois walked to the nightstand and turned on the radio as loud as she could and still be able to hear Martha talk. <Just great,> she thought as sounds of banjo and mandolin filled the room, <The Backporch Bluegrass Show is just what I need right now.> At Martha’s startled look, she remarked in a low tone, “If you want to talk, Mrs. Kent, we will talk. But since I’m assuming that we will be talking about the world’s champion eavesdropper, the least we can do is attempt a little audio camouflage.” Lois sat cross-legged on the bed and faced Martha. “Okay, Mrs. Kent, what can I do for you?”
Martha stood with her arms crossed and faced Lois head-on. If Martha was offended by the direct approach, she didn’t show it. But she did return it in kind. “You can tell me how you found out about my son and what you want from him.”
It was a fair question, and Lois couldn’t really blame Martha for asking. She tried to keep her tone non-confrontational. “What I want is to go home to my husband and kids, but so far I’m not having much luck on that front. As to how I found out about Clark’s other job, I believe Clark has already told you how, but I don’t think you believe him.”
“That you’re his devoted wife come back from the future? No, I don’t. I’ll tell you my best guess. I think that you somehow discovered Clark’s secret, realized that he was already half in love with you, and decided, for reasons I cannot begin to imagine, that feeding him some cockamamie story about time travel and a family-to-be would somehow give you a better chance of landing Superman for yourself.”
If Lois were in Martha’s shoes, this would have been her best guess as well. She knew that Martha wasn’t a naturally suspicious person, but she could be fierce in defense of her family, just as Lois herself could be. Lois hoped she could convince Martha of her truthfulness. She was certainly going to give it her best shot.
“Mrs. Kent, as you have just pointed out, Clark was already falling in love with me from the moment we met. If I had discovered his secret and decided that I wanted Superman for myself, I wouldn’t have needed to make up this implausible story in order to get him. You know he’s always wanted a wife and family. If I were who you think I am, the Lois Lane that Clark first met, and I wanted him for myself, we could be well on our way down that road by now. As it is, I already have a husband. I’m not out to steal your son’s heart, Mrs. Kent.”
“I think you are, Miss Lane. I don’t know how you think this story helps you; maybe you figure that, presented with your supposed marriage as a ‘fait accomplis’, Clark won’t look too closely to see whether you really love him or not. And he’s bought it hook, line, and sinker. I’m not blind, Miss Lane. Or stupid. I see the way he looks at you. Already, you have the power to break his heart. And maybe I don’t have the power to stop you, but I will fight you every step of the way.”
Lois was trying hard *not* to let this escalate into a real fight. She needed Martha Kent on her side. Consciously, she uncrossed her own arms and made her face as open and non-threatening as she could.
“Mrs. Kent, can I tell you about your son?”
“Hmph! You can try!” was her mumbled reply.
“Your son is one-of-a-kind. But then, you know that; you raised him. Have you ever stopped to think about the world’s reaction to Superman? Metropolis has welcomed him with open arms. They’ve given him the key to the city. Little boys are wearing his symbol on their pajamas. People feel safer because they know he’s around.”
Martha made no reply, but the look she was giving Lois said ‘So?’
“Now, do you realize how unlikely that reaction is? Why in the world would people be *happy* to know that a there is a man in their city who can break their neck with one hand? Who can burn them to a crisp with a glance? Who could ogle their wives and daughters at any time because he can see through their clothes? Who could do worse than that to them with impunity? Who could take anything he wanted at any time because the police and army would be powerless to stop him?”
Martha’s mouth was hanging open now and her eyes were wide with horror.
“No, I know. That kind of thought never crossed your mind. You know that Clark would never do any of those things. But that’s because you’re his mother. The incredible part is that it never crossed most other people’s minds, either. And the reason it didn’t is because Clark really is a friend, and he really is here to help. And that shines through in everything that Superman does and says.
“So yes, Mrs. Kent, your Clark is an amazing young man. He’s also a talented young reporter and a terrific friend. He’s been a pillar of strength for me for the last six weeks, and I understand why you would think that any young lady would be thrilled to have him, with or without his extra abilities.”
Martha opened her mouth to speak, but Lois wasn’t finished yet.
“But now, I would like to tell you about my husband. My Clark is everything that your son is, but he’s also much more. Intellectually, your son is brilliant, but my husband is just as smart with ten years more experience. You should see him conduct an interview. He can smell a cover-up ten miles away and he can finesse the truth out of a subject so subtly that she doesn’t even realize half of what she’s revealed.
“Your son is incredibly well-read. He can quote everyone from Aeschylus to Shakespeare to Miyazawa in the original language. My husband can do that, too, but he also has the life experience to at least begin wrestling with the answers to some questions that your son doesn’t even know how to ask yet. And, he can sing every verse of ‘The Water Buffalo Song’ with his daughter.
“Your son is a good partner and a loyal and compassionate friend. My husband has been my partner, my friend, my lover, my co-parent, and my birthing coach. He knows every facet of who I am, at my best and at my worst, and he loves me anyway.
“Your son would put his life on the line to save this planet. But he’s constantly running out on his boss, his colleagues, and his friends because he hasn’t yet learned the difference between a real Superman emergency and an every-day sticky situation in which a flying Boy Scout would come in handy. My husband is wise enough to know that sometimes the world just has to take care of itself. The day I left was the beginning of our anniversary weekend. Clark had a major getaway planned for us. He made all the arrangements. He farmed out the children to the grandparents (thank you in advance), he made hotel reservations in Florence. And, six months ahead of time, Superman got on the phone with the Chief of Police, the Fire Marshall, the Mayor, the Secretary of Homeland Security, the Head of the Joint Chiefs, and the President of the United States to tell them all that Superman was going to be unavailable for four days in October and, barring Earth-destroying asteroids, they had better be prepared to take care of whatever came up.
“In short, Mrs. Kent, my husband is the man that your son has the potential to become. And yes, I love your son. Who wouldn’t? But I have no intention of seducing him. I’m not looking for young, starry-eyed romance. I’ve already done that, and it was great, but I’ve got my life-partner waiting at home for me, and all I want is to get home to him, the sooner the better.
“Now, what is the current status of your dishwasher?”
“I beg your pardon?!” Martha had been mesmerized by the fierce pride this young lady was displaying for her (fictional? Could she really be faking this?) husband and was utterly nonplussed by the sudden and completely irrelevant question which followed.
“Your dishwasher, Martha? Is it full? Empty? Clean? Dirty?” Somewhere during her little speech, Lois had come to the conclusion that she was through pretending with Martha Kent. She would act the way she always acted in this house, and this Martha could take it or leave it.
“Uhh…I ran a load before we left for the festival.”
“Good. Because I’ve been building up a bundle of nervous energy all day, and now I need to putter.” And, with that remark, Lois opened the bedroom door and started briskly down the stairs. Martha just turned off the stupid radio and followed her.
Just what did this girl think she was doing, coming into Martha’s house and acting like she lived there? Martha was composing a blistering take-down in her mind as she followed Lois into the kitchen. As the two women strode into the room, Jonathan and Clark looked up from their coffee cups, took in the sight of Lois Lane and Martha Kent both in high dudgeon, and, with vague waves in their general direction, made a bee-line for the back door.
So Martha was once again alone with Lois, and she opened her mouth to speak, ready to put that girl in her place. And froze. As Martha stared disbelieving from the doorway, Lois Lane marched right up to the kitchen sink, took a clean towel from the drawer on the left, opened the dishwasher, and proceeded to put Martha’s clean dishes away. Every one of them right where it belonged. Without opening cupboard after cupboard looking for the right spot, as a visitor would have done. She even carried the heavy platter across the eat-in space to the closet on the other side.
Noticing Martha’s dumbfounded expression, Lois explained, “You haven’t re-organized your kitchen cabinets in ten years, Martha. I’ve been your daughter-in-law for seven. I know where things go. Now, are you going to grab a towel and help me?” The words could have been hostile, a challenge, but Lois made them seem….friendly, like affectionate teasing.
Boy, if she was a con, she was a good one. Martha was trying to think of a test, something that would tell her one way or the other whether this young woman could be trusted, when Jonathan’s panicked voice came tearing through the night from the back shed. “Martha! Martha, come quick!”
“Oh, no! He didn’t!” Lois’s voice came from right behind her as the two women raced across the back yard. Martha couldn’t believe the sight that greeted her when they got to the shed. A sickly green glow filled the small room. It came from that strange rock that Wayne had asked Jonathan to keep for him. Jonathan was looking up at her in sheer terror, and, crumpled on the floor, writhing and groaning in pain, was her son. Her invulnerable son.
“Clark, you lunkhead! I told you to stay away from that stuff. Jonathan, close that toolbox! Now!” Lois was taking charge. Again.
Jonathan closed the metal box and the green glow was eclipsed. “Get it out of here. Take it to your truck. Hurry!” That urgent tone brooked no opposition, and Jonathan lugged the heavy box to the bed of his pick-up. When he returned, Clark was sitting up quietly, his shoulders supported by Martha and Lois on either side of him.
“Come on, Martha,” Lois was saying, “help me get him into the house.”
“Now just a minute, missy,” Jonathan’s anxiety for his son’s welfare made him speak more bluntly than he otherwise might have, “how do we know we should even move him? And who put you charge all of a sudden? You’re not his mother. Or his wife.” That last part was positively rude, but at this point he didn’t care. All he could think about was his son.
But Lois didn’t take offense. She just looked him in the eye and answered him, “No, I’m not. But I *am* this world’s only expert on the effects of kryptonite on Clark Kent. So that makes me the voice of experience.”
“What’s kryptonite?”
“The one thing on Earth that can kill your son. We need to put Clark to bed before the fever kicks in, find a permanent way to get rid of that rock, and convince Rachel Harris to arrest Jason Trask for the kidnapping of Wayne Irig. Now, are you going to help or are you going to get out of the way?”
Martha spoke up, “Jonathan, do as she says.” At his look of surprised inquiry, she addressed her husband first, “We were wrong, Jonathan.” Turning to look at Lois, she continued, “She *is* his wife.”
****
Martha and Lois took turns at Clark’s bedside that night. Martha convinced the sheriff to investigate the activities at the Irig farm. Jonathan drove the kryptonite two counties south of them, where he woke a cousin of his who had a machine shop with an industrial crusher. Then he hosed the remains of it down the drain into the septic system. At least that chunk of poison would never harm his son again.
By early morning the fever had passed and Jonathan had returned. All four Kents were able to get a few hours of much-needed sleep. By noontime they were all gathered in the kitchen, Martha cooking a hearty brunch while Lois tried to explain the after-effects of kryptonite poisoning to the others.
“Your powers should return in a day or two. Maybe sooner. It’s hard to predict. If we were at home we could put you under the sunlamps in our shower.” At their questioning looks, she explained, “Solar radiation speeds your healing. Bernie Klein designed lamps for you that are more powerful than natural sunlight. But, since that’s not an option, you just need to spend as much time as you can in the sun.”
Turning from her post at the stove, Martha looked around for a plate to put the sausages on. Lois was closest to the cabinet. “Lois, could you hand me the green serving platter from the cabinet behind you?” My, it hadn’t taken her long to start treating that girl as family, had it? But Lois didn’t seem to mind.
While she waited, Martha turned the burner off and addressed her son. “Clark, I don’t understand. Lois says that you knew what that rock would do to you. Why did you let your dad show it to you in the first place?”
“I had to, Mom. For my family.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Clark. Your father and I were doing just fine before then, and we’re certainly not any better off now that you’ve been so sick.”
“Martha,” Jonathan spoke quietly, “I don’t think he means this family.”
Oh. Oh, my. He meant for Lois. And for the children he didn’t yet have. She knew that he was in love before, but she hadn’t realized how deep it went until now.
Martha turned back to Lois. She was still waiting for that green platter. Lois stood at the open cabinet, her body stock still. But the dish she cradled in her hands like a treasure wasn’t green. It was red. The red stoneware plate that Sarah Adams had made for Martha’s birthday years ago. It only came out for special occasions. When that plate appeared under your breakfast pancakes or your dinner, it meant “You are special today.” Clark had loved it when he was a boy. And Lois Lane was standing there, holding that red plate to her chest, with tears running down her cheeks.
Clark was at her side in a moment. “Lo? What’s wrong?”
Lois’s face crumpled, and she dropped into the nearest chair. “Oh Clark! Sam broke this plate last April. He felt terrible about it.” She was speaking through her sobs, her voice high and tight in her throat. “He and Jon were so happy because their birthday fell over Easter Weekend that year. We all came out here for the weekend, and Clark and Sam and Jon camped out in the fortress. Then, in the morning, they were so excited, they were jostling each other, trying to get the first piece of bacon, and Sam knocked the plate off the table. It smashed in a million pieces. He was heartbroken.”
“Oh, Lois!” Gently, Clark removed the plate from her grasp and placed it carefully on the table. Then he lifted the still-crying Lois in his arms and carried her through to the living room, where he sat down on the sofa and settled her in his lap. Martha closed the kitchen door as quietly as she could.
He knew better than to offer her empty reassurances. They had been waiting for weeks for Mr. Wells to show up. He honestly had no idea whether Lois would ever be able to go home. So he held her, rubbing her back and stroking her hair, handing her a fresh tissue from the box on the end table whenever she needed one, and waited.
And, as he waited, he thought hard about a question he had never allowed himself to ask before then. What if Lois really was stranded here? What if she could never get back to her husband and her children? What if *this* was the new reality for both of them? Forever?
By the time Lois’s tears ran their course and her breathing was once again strong and steady, Clark had made his decision. Lois reached for one last tissue and wiped the last tears away, looking up to him with a watery smile as if to say ‘Yeah, I’m a little shaky now, but I’ll be okay.’ Clark slid himself out from under her and scooted over a little, turning his body to face her. “Lois,” he began, and she was struck by the determined tone of his voice, “I want you to know that I will move heaven and earth to get you back to your family.”
“I know you will, CJ. You’re a true friend.”
But Clark wasn’t finished yet. “But if you can’t get back,”
“I’m going back, Clark.”
“I know you are, Lois, if I have anything to say about it. But *if* you can’t, I need you to know this: I will always be your friend. For as long as you want me to. And if that’s all you ever want from me, then that’s all I’ll ever show you. But, if you ever need somebody here, in this world, to love you, please, let it be me.” He hurried on before she could stop him. “I know you’re nowhere near thinking that way now. And, I swear, I will never pressure you. I just want you to know that you’re not alone here. I know I’m not Him. I won’t try to be. I’ll be your friend forever it that’s what you want. But, if it’s ever what *you* want, I know I can love you, Lois, and I’ll do my damnedest to make you happy.”
“Oh, CJ! I do care for you. You know that.” And, though Lois did love this Clark like a brother, she knew better than to say that this time around. “And you have so much love to give. But it’s not meant for me. I need to get back to my family, and we need to get *your* Lois back here to you. She needs that kind of love, Clark, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. And you are just the man to give it to her. We’ve just got to get everybody back where we belong.”
Later, looking back, it seemed as if those words had been a cue. Because, just at that moment, the doorbell rang. Jonathan peeked his head in from the kitchen, and, seeing that the coast was apparently clear, he made his way through the living room to open it, revealing a small man in an outmoded suit and bowler hat. Jonathan did a double-take, but years of good manners came to his rescue. “Can I help you?” he asked the stranger.
“Um, uh, yes, quite,” stammered the little man, “Pardon, me, Mr. Kent, but I am looking for your son. My name is…”
Lois stood dumbstruck at Jonathan’s shoulder, and the two of them, the stranger and the young woman, spoke the word together: “Wells.”
