From Part 3
Clark smiled hesitantly. “We can do this, honey. We can do this together.”
Lois lurched from her chair and threw herself onto his lap. She curled into the crook of his neck and relaxed against him. “I’m sorry,” she said, as he closed his arms around her.
“Ssshhh,” he crooned, as he kissed her cheek. “We’re together, honey. We’ll be all right.”
ADRIFT
Part 4
Clark looked up from his desk at the Planet as Lois walked out of the elevator. She surveyed the newsroom, appearing disoriented, as if this environment was completely foreign to her. Then she saw him and some of her bewilderment evaporated.
He strode to meet her, put his hand on her back and guided her to her desk. She smiled hesitantly at him and sat down, but still looked so totally lost, his heart ached for her. She couldn’t stay here.
He crouched beside her desk. “Lois, honey,” he said gently. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t stay at home,” she said wretchedly. “Everything is done for the funeral tomorrow. I was going insane.”
“You shouldn’t be here, honey,” he said.
“I need something to do,” she cried. “Can’t you give me something to do?”
Clark was putting the finishing touches to a human-interest story about a young mother battling ovarian cancer. There was no way he was letting Lois within a mile of that. “There’s nothing, really.” He took her hand. “How about I take you out? We could have coffee.”
“You need to be here, Clark,” she said. “It’s hard enough for Perry with me being away. And you've been with me so much. And the funeral's tomorrow.”
“I can have coffee with you and still meet my deadline.” He offered her his hand. “Come on.”
Lois shook her head. “I’ll just sit here. Maybe read through a few files, check my emails.”
Clark watched her, his mind cultivating a plan. This was a job for ... the other him. “Can I go and get you a coffee?” he said.
She nodded and tried so valiantly to smile, he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her – right here in the middle of the newsroom. He *would* hold her... soon enough.
“I’ll be back soon,” Clark said, with a little squeeze on her shoulder.
+-+-+-+
Lois watched Clark step into the elevator. He was trying so hard. Trying to help her through this. Trying, despite the fact he didn’t know what she needed. *She* didn’t know what she needed. She shouldn’t have come here though. Coming here was a bad idea. But she didn’t have any good ideas.
Jimmy emerged from the store room and swung in her direction. He saw her and did a double take. She saw him pause and then hesitantly approach her desk. “Lois,” he said with an awkward half-smile. “How are you?”
She matched his smile. “OK.”
“Lois, I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
He stood at her desk, not knowing how to continue, not knowing how to depart graciously.
“I have work to do, Jimmy,” she said kindly.
He couldn’t hide the relief in his smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Perry came out of his office. He told her she shouldn’t be here, rested his hand on her arm in a fatherly gesture and let his concern show clearly in his kindly eyes.
Cat came over, for once straightforward and lacking her usual mockery. As she walked away, Lois reflected that a Cat sneering comment was just the normalcy she craved. But you couldn’t fault her for trying to be kind.
Lois heard a rustle of interest and looked up as Superman strode into the newsroom. She watched him, wondering blankly who he had come to see. She expected him to walk into Perry’s office and was surprised when he stopped at her desk. He looked down at her, arms crossed over his chest. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” Now she’d become accustomed to the Suit, he seemed more ... human, less ... alien.
“I saw Clark on the way in and he gave me an idea.”
Lois was aware they were the focus of the entire newsroom. He should expect that, of course, wearing that outfit, not to mention the other things like flying. She squirmed a little in the spotlight, but hey, compared with the past few days ... “He did?”
“He asked me if I would take you to his parents.”
“Smallville?” she said, startled.
“Lois, being here isn’t going to help,” he said pragmatically. “You can’t be at home alone. Why not go?”
“I couldn’t impose.”
Superman’s left eyebrow lifted microscopically. “I thought you’d met the Kents,” he said.
“I have,” she said, shaking her head. “But I don’t want to go anywhere. I have the funeral tomorrow. Lucy is coming tonight.”
“I’ll fly you there,” Superman persisted. “You could spend a few hours with Clark’s parents then I’ll come and bring you home.”
“You’ll *fly* me?” she choked.
“Why not?” he said, as if it was an everyday thing. Well, she supposed, for him, it was.
“No,” she said decisively.
“If you won’t do it for yourself, will you do it for Clark?”
“Clark?”
“He’s worried about you.”
“I’d go if Clark came with me,” she acquiesced.
“Lois,” he chided gently. “You *know* Clark has to work. He’d take you if he could.” Superman held out his hand and waited.
A hundred excuses filtered through her mind, but Lois didn’t have the energy to voice any of them. And it was true – Clark would get very little done if he was worrying about her. She put her hand in Superman’s and allowed him to help her to her feet. “OK,” she conceded. “But I should leave a note for Clark.”
“He’ll know where you are.” Superman lifted her and flew them out of the window and across Metropolis.
Lois watched in awe as the city faded from view. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” she said when words were possible again.
His austere expression softened somewhat, although it didn’t even approach a smile. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Anxious?”
About what? Falling? “No,” she said, surprised it was totally true. She usually didn’t trust easily.
This time, he did smile.
+-+-+-+
Superman dropped lightly into the front garden of the Kent farmhouse. Martha hurried out from the house.
“Mrs Kent,” Superman greeted. “I’m a friend of Clark’s. I’ve brought you some company.”
Martha ran forward and enclosed Lois in a nurturing hug. “Lois, honey, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Lois allowed herself to be held by Clark’s mother. She smelt of lavender soap. When Martha released her, Superman had gone.
As Lois followed Martha into the farmhouse, she looked around, noting the small differences from last time she was here. A flower bed which had been resplendent with flowers then, was bare, dug dirt now.
As they passed through the porch, Lois glanced to where Clark had stood when she’d kissed his cheek. A smile birthed inside her, as she remembered his surprise. The smile never reached her face, but it was there. And it seemed to reset something foundational to the rhythm to her life.
Martha sat her at the kitchen table and soon had coffee and scones in front of them. She sat down and her hand reached across and rested on Lois’s arm. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s OK,” Martha said.
Lois pulled her facial muscles into something she hoped resembled a smile. Martha was such a wonderful person ... the embodiment of what a mother should be ... but Lois knew with certainty, she couldn’t open up to this woman.
How could she ever explain her anger at her parents for failing her? For leaving her alone? How could she explain that she was mourning as much the death of her childishly naive dream that, one day, they would be a real family, as she was for their deaths?
How could she admit that amidst all the raging grief was the speck of shameful relief that the fighting had finally stopped?
Compassionate though she was, Martha would never understand that.
So Lois drank her coffee and nibbled at a scone and said very little.
When they’d finished, Martha said, “Lois, I have an art class in town. Make yourself at home.”
Lois watched with a degree of shock as Martha walked out of the kitchen, leaving her ... alone. She didn’t think this was what either Clark or Superman had in mind when they’d colluded to get her to Smallville.
She heard Martha leave through the front door and began mindlessly clearing away their cups. She needlessly wiped the table, then went to the sink and looked out of the window.
To the left was the vegetable garden. To the right was a large expanse of green grass. In the far corner stood a big tree, broad with low, thick branches. Lois could imagine Martha standing here and watching Clark climb that tree. She could almost visualise a little dark-haired boy wave from amongst the leaves.
Lois sighed as the emptiness unfurled inside her.
She was interrupted by Jonathan coming through the door. “Lois,” he said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.” He stepped closer. “I’m so sorry about your parents,” he said.
“Thanks.”
His large hand rested momentarily on her shoulder. “Has Martha left already?” he asked.
“She went to her art class.”
“Oh.”
“What’s wrong?” Lois asked.
“One of the cows is struggling to birth her calves. She’s having twins. I need Martha’s help.” A silence hung between them. “Would *you* mind helping?” Jonathan asked hesitantly.
“Me?” Lois gulped.
“If those calves aren’t born soon, we may lose all three of them.”
“OK,” Lois agreed, sure she would be of minimal use.
Jonathan took Martha’s overalls – they were pink - from a hook behind the door and gave Lois a pair of rubber boots. She put on the overalls and swapped her shoes for the boots.
Lois followed Jonathan to the barn. The smell curled her nostrils. The cow - shiny black and huge - was lying down, heaving.
Jonathan directed her to the head of the cow. “Just try to calm her,” he said. He knelt at the other end of the animal and pointed to the old towels hanging on the rail. “When I get this one out, you need to take it and rub it with the towel. Usually the mother would do the job by licking it, but we’re going to have to do it for her.”
Lois crouched awkwardly in the straw at the head of the cow. From there, she could see two tiny feet under the mother’s tail. Jonathan was kneeling, one hand on the cow’s thigh where he stroked her reassuringly. He spoke to her constantly, his words unimportant, his tone calm and steadfast.
Slowly, more of the legs came into view, then with a sudden, violent surge, the whole body emerged with a flood of reddened liquid. Jonathan lifted the calf and laid it on the fresh, dry hay. He pulled off the membrane and used the corner of a towel to gently wipe around the calf’s mouth and eyes. With an encouraging smile, he handed the towel to Lois and went back to the cow.
Lois knelt next to the calf. Its eyes were open, but it wasn’t moving. Its fur was dark and damp.
She carefully placed the towel over the bulk of the little creature and began rubbing. “That’s good, Lois,” she heard Jonathan say. “Not too gentle.”
Everything except the calf receded into the background. Lois could see its side lift with each breath and under her hands, she could feel the warmth of its little body. She continued rubbing with the towel, venturing past its shoulders and onto the long, spindly legs.
“Pick her up and turn her over, so you can dry the other side,” Jonathan said, in the same low, reassuring tone.
Lois dropped the towel and stared at the calf.
“Put your hands under her and lift,” Jonathan instructed. “You can do it.”
Lois didn’t look at him, but she heard the quiet confidence in his words. She slipped her hands under the calf and, trying not to wince at the damp stickiness of the fur, gently flipped it. She brushed off the pieces of straw and began rubbing again.
When the calf was dry, Lois put down the towel and drew her fingers through the now-fluffy fur. The calf lifted its head and tried to stand. Lois backed away. The calf dropped back into the hay.
“Keep touching her,” Jonathan said. “You’re doing great.”
“Is that one OK?” Lois asked, her hands busy on the little one’s body.
“Yep,” said Jonathan. “I was worried it was backwards and I’d have to pull it out quickly, but it’s fine.”
Moments later, Lois heard the gush again and Jonathan picked up the second calf. He brought it to the dry straw and pulled a clean towel from the rails.
“Can I do it?” Lois asked.
Jonathan handed her the towel. “Mouth, eyes and nose first,” he said.
Lois cleaned the gunk from around the calf’s face, then began rubbing along its side. Jonathan applied liberal amounts of brown liquid to the underside of both calves. “Antiseptic,” he explained.
The first calf made another gallant effort to stand and this time got to its feet. It stumbled forward, then regained its balance and stood unsteadily, looking profoundly puzzled.
Lois laughed and her delight echoed around the barn. She started at the sound and reflexively put her hand to her mouth as if to smother it.
Jonathan smiled at her. “Feels good, eh?”
She didn’t know if he meant the new life, or laughing, or working together with nature, but she nodded, aware it was true. This *did* feel good. She returned her concentration to the calf under her hands.
When it was dry, Lois looked up and saw that the cow was on her feet and nuzzling the first calf. A few moments later, the second calf stood and groggily sought its mother.
Lois looked at Jonathan and discovered they were both smiling.
+-+-+-+
Later Lois sat with Jonathan at the kitchen table enjoying a cup of tea and more of the scones.
They hadn’t spoken much – just details such as where Lois could find the butter and jelly – but Lois had discovered Jonathan was so comfortable to be with, silence was not awkward.
Lois stared into her cup. Right now, she felt closer to Clark’s father than she ever had to her own father.
Maybe it was what they had done – what they had achieved together.
Maybe it was how he had included her, treated her as an equal. Though her knowledge had been so deficient, he had never once doubted her ability to do it.
Maybe there was something in his calmness, his quiet confidence which reminded her of Clark.
Maybe he was just a natural at being a father-figure.
“Thanks for your help, Lois,” he said. “You did very well.”
She smiled shyly at his approval. “Did Clark help you when he was a kid?”
Jonathan laughed. “All the time. He just had to be involved in everything. He was only three the first time he helped me birth a calf.”
There was something in Jonathan’s tone – a pride, a joy, a treasure trove woven through the memory – which stung Lois’s heart.
She could not remember that pride from either of her parents.
Purposefully, she shut down the comparisons. They hurt. And they made her feel so disloyal.
That little smile still lingered on Jonathan’s face. She knew he could see an eager little boy, trying to help way beyond his strength, beyond his years. Lois could almost hear Jonathan’s quiet instructions and see little Clark’s efforts to help however he could.
It was no surprise Clark had grown into the man he was.
A solitary tear leaked from Lois’s eye and she wiped it away.
“Now you know how to birth a calf, you can get a job here anytime,” Jonathan said.
“I’ll remember that if Perry ever kicks me out.”
“Lois?” Jonathan studied his tea. “Even without the calves, you know you’re welcome here anytime, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Even if Clark can’t come, you’re welcome. Always.”
“Thank you,” she said, a little shakily. She sipped her tea, appreciating its calming warmth as it seeped through her. She looked up at Jonathan. “Did Martha really have an art class?” she asked.
Jonathan scratched his head, but she could see he was trying to cover his amusement. “No,” he admitted.
Lois felt her mouth curl into a little smile. “Then why did she go?”
“Because she thought you could do better than being stuck in this kitchen with her.”
“She thought birthing calves would be good therapy?”
Jonathan looked like he knew he was being backed into a corner. Strangely, something of his expression reminded her of Clark. “Well, we can’t actually produce calves on cue,” he said with chuckle, “But any farm work tends to soothe the mind.”
“Did you *really* need me?”
“Yes, I did,” Jonathan said sincerely. “The second birth could have been a lot more complicated. I needed someone to be there for the first little heifer.”
“Tell Martha ‘thanks’,” Lois said.
They shared a conspiratorial grin as the door opened and Superman entered. “Mr Kent,” he greeted Jonathan. “Ready?” he asked Lois.
Lois stood. “Thank you, Jonathan.”
“See you tomorrow,” Jonathan said, as he stood.
“Tomorrow?” she said, confused.
“We’ll be there tomorrow. Both of us.”
Then she remembered. The funeral. “You’re both coming?” she said, in surprise.
“Of course,” Jonathan said.
Lois gave him a little smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.
They walked outside and Superman lifted her into his arms and flew her back to Metropolis.
+-+-+-+
That night, Lucy arrived.
She came to Lois’s apartment, stayed long enough for Lois to go over the details of the funeral and then informed Lois she had to leave.
“But, I thought you’d stay here,” Lois said, trying to keep her disappointment from whetting her tone.
“Aaron’s waiting for me at our motel room.”
“Oh.”
“See you tomorrow, Lois.”
“Bye.”
They looked at each other long enough for Lois to wonder if Lucy was considering hugging her. Impulsively, Lois attempted an awkward embrace.
Lucy stiffened, but didn’t pull away.
Lois dropped a light kiss on her sister’s hairline as they separated. “I’m glad I have you, Lucy,” she said. “I’m glad you're here.”
Lucy looked uncomfortable. She gestured to the door. “I should get back to Aaron.”
“I’ll meet him tomorrow,” Lois said.
“And I’ll meet Clark.”
“Yes.”
“Are you serious about him?”
“Yes. Are you serious about Aaron?”
“Maybe.”
“I hope it works out for you, Lucy.”
Lucy regarded Lois suspiciously, as if unsure of her sincerity. Then, she shrugged and the tiniest smile appeared. “If it does work out, it’ll be a first. I always pick the wrong ones.”
“Me too,” Lois admitted.
Lucy seemed surprised at her admission. “But Clark’s different?”
“Totally.”
Another awkward silence followed. Then Lucy opened the door and stepped out of Lois’s apartment. “Bye, Lois,” she said.
“Bye, Lucy.”
+-+-+-+
Lois walked, dreamlike, down the aisle of the church with Clark a step behind her, his hand on the small of her back. Half way down, she could no longer avoid seeing the two white caskets at the front of the church.
The one on the left was her father’s. It was topped with a dome of gerberas – fiery red, hot orange and an occasional gold, contrasting dynamically with the deep green of the bed of foliage.
The one on the right was her mother’s. It was topped with roses in shades of soft peach, pink and cream.
Lois looked away, looked to the polished wooden floor and just concentrated on getting to her seat – at the front. She deliberately avoided the eyes of the eighty or so people already assembled. One look from anyone, one expression of sympathy and she was going to lose her already tenuous grip on her control.
When she arrived at the front, she glanced at her sister, already seated. Lucy was staring ahead, her face the colour and consistency of concrete. On the other side of Lucy was a young man. That must be Aaron. He was dressed in a cheap suit and looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Lois gave him points just for being here.
Lois sat, shuffling closer to Lucy so there was room for Clark to sit next to her. She felt a hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing fine, honey,” came Martha Kent’s quiet voice.
The service began with a hymn. Lois couldn’t sing. Her throat ached with the effort not to cry. In the five days since the death of her parents, she had wanted to cry so many times. When she was alone, when she could do it without looking like an emotional wreck, but her tears had stubbornly refused to budge from their dungeon inside her.
Now, of all times, so public, so on-display, they throbbed for release. And with the eulogy just minutes away.
Every time Lois thought about getting up in front of all these people, her stomach clenched. Truth was, it wasn’t just her stomach, it was every muscle in her body. Her neck hurt, her shoulders ached and her back was so tense she kept surreptitiously trying to stretch it, which seemed to make everything exponentially worse.
The hymn finished and they sat. She felt Clark search for her hand and hold it in his. She inched towards him, soaking up the support emanating from him. From the edge of her vision, she knew he was looking at her. She turned to face him.
“I love you,” he mouthed.
That nearly broke the dam. She looked away quickly, fighting the avalanche. She stared at her hand, encased in Clark’s long fingers. She allowed it to blur and indulged in a deep, shaky breath. Please don’t let this be a dream, she thought. I couldn’t do it again.
She lifted her eyes, careful to skirt past the caskets positioned just in front of her, and tried to tune into what the minister was saying. Then she realised he had stopped. Then she realised everyone was looking at her. She felt Clark release her hand with a small squeeze.
Panicked, she looked at him. He nodded slightly, his eyes brimming with support and love.
Lois forced herself to stand and walk past the caskets. She negotiated the four steps and reached the lectern. She turned, carefully positioned her notes, took a great, shuddering breath and looked up – searching for Clark, desperate for his reassurance and understanding.
His seat was empty.
Stunned, she looked to the far end of the church – just in time to see the back of Clark Kent disappear out of the church.
