From Part 3 ...
The darkness gathered, broken only by the meagre light from the crescent-shaped moon, and the silence hovered, broken only by the pulse of the ocean.
“You think about your birth parents a lot, don’t you?” Lois asked.
“I don’t know enough to think about them, but, yeah, I have a lot of questions. Someone put me in that spaceship, but I don’t know why. Didn’t they want me? Was I some sort of bizarre experiment? Was there something wrong with me? Something that disappointed them?”
“You did *not* disappoint them,” Lois said with surety. “And I bet they wanted you. How could they not?”
“I wish I knew,” Clark sighed. “I sometimes wonder if it’s possible they watch me. Do they care at all? Were they in danger? Was I in danger? Or did they simply not want me?”
“You think they could be watching you?” Lois asked, trying to dismiss the vaguely uneasy feeling that had crept upon her.
Clark shrugged. “Not really. I suppose it’s possible, but ...”
“I think they had a good reason for putting you in that spaceship.”
He smiled, a little sadly and it tore at her heart.
“Do you still feel so alone?” she asked.
“I wasn’t really alone,” he said. “I always had my parents. And then one day, I walked into my bedroom and met you and realised if I could somehow convince this most amazing of women to fall in love with me, I would never be alone again.”
“Then I guess you’ll never be alone again, farmboy.”
He grinned. And kissed her.
Part 4
It was Sunday evening.
In her apartment, Clark stood, locked together with Lois. Her arms were draped around his neck and her head rested snugly on the slope of his shoulder. His arms were folded across her back and his head inclined forward. The hint of her vanilla shampoo rewarded his every breath.
They both knew their parting was imminent.
They both dreaded it.
“I don’t want to leave you,” Clark murmured.
“I don’t want you to go,” Lois whispered.
“They were the best three days of my life.”
“And mine.” Clark felt Lois’s happy sigh vibrate against his chest. “Your parents were so thrilled when we told them we are getting married,” she said.
Clark smiled at the memory. “I thought Dad was going to burst with pride when you asked him to give you away.”
“It feels like I’m already a part of your family.”
“You are, Lois,” he said. “But you’re still a part of yours too. You always will be.”
“Lucy promised to come to the wedding,” Lois said wondrously, as if she still didn’t quite believe it. “She even said she’d be my bridesmaid.”
They were silent again. Clark listened to his breaths ... her breaths ... and begrudged the passing of every moment that dragged them closer to inevitable separation. “I should go,” he said, but there was not even the suggestion of movement throughout the length of his body.
“You should.” Lois didn’t move either. Not one muscle.
“Have breakfast with me tomorrow?” he asked.
“I’d love to.”
“Pick you up at seven?”
Lois sighed. “That’s eight hours away.”
“Eight hours too many.”
“Maybe it’ll go quickly,” she said, without much hope.
“We’ll be asleep for most of it,” Clark added.
“Asleep ... alone,” Lois muttered. “I want to be *with* you, Clark.”
“And I want to be with you.” Clark kissed the top of her head. “Always.”
“Always.”
“I should go,” Clark repeated.
Still he didn’t move.
A dozen breaths later, Clark sighed and, with a wistful smile unfolded from her. He gazed down into the depths of her jarrah-brown eyes. “In less than four weeks, you’ll be my wife,” he reminded her.
“And then you won’t have to leave.” She smiled up at him and slid her fingers through his dark stubble. “Thanks for not shaving,” she purred.
“I can’t believe you like it.”
“I love your clean-shaven look,” she admitted freely. “But this ... this has a relaxed roguishness that drives me crazy.”
He couldn’t dwell on her words. Not now. If he did, he *wouldn’t* leave. “I worry I’ll scratch you when I kiss you,” he temporised. He scrutinised her face, pretending to check for grazes.
Then he saw them.
Three distinct shadows on her right cheek.
Clark stared, horror worming through every part of him. He groaned and closed his eyes against the sickening evidence. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he grated.
He felt Lois’s thumb caress his cheek, along the upper edge of his stubble. “Tell you what?” she asked casually.
He opened his eyes. They were still there – faint certainly, but he could see them, could feel their pointing condemnation. “That I hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” Lois stated with unconcerned certainty.
“Lois,” he groaned. “I can see the bruises.”
“Where?”
His fingertips hovered to the side of her mouth. “Here.” He winced as remorse needled him. He’d hurt Lois. He’d left bruises on her. “And here.” His eyes shot to hers. “Why didn’t you tell me I hurt you?” he said, low and intense.
“Because you didn’t do it.”
“Lois, other than when you were asleep in my bedroom, I have been with you constantly since Friday evening.”
“It wasn’t you.”
“I can see the finger marks, Lois,” he insisted forcefully. “They’re too big for you or Mom, so either I did it, or my father did it. And it’s been my hands all over your face these past three days.”
“But you were never rough. *Are* never rough.”
“It had to have been when I was kissing you,” Clark said wretchedly. “I must have got carried away and ...” He felt his shame chafe throughout his insides. “Lois. I’m so sorry.”
“It *wasn’t* you,” she repeated.
A slither of fear snaked around his heart. “Then who was it?” he said, barely above undertone.
“When I was walking to your apartment on Friday ... someone grabbed me.”
“What do you mean ‘someone *grabbed* you’?” Clark exploded.
Lois withdrew her arms from his neck and folded them across her chest. “Someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me into an alley.”
Clark took a deep breath, trying to curb the horde of reprehensible images jostling through his mind. “What did he do?” he said stiffly.
“Nothing.”
“*Nothing*! Lois, I can see the bruises.” Clark's voice had risen again. He looked to the ceiling and sucked in a deep breath, then faced her again. “Why didn’t you call for me?” he asked, more moderately.
“His hand was across my mouth. I couldn’t call for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he rasped. "Later?"
Lois stepped back, arms still folded. “Because when I got to your apartment, you weren’t there ... and then there was the call from Honduras and when you came, we talked about that ... and then we went to the island ... and everything was so wonderful, I didn’t want to spoil it.”
Clark rocketed into her eyes. “Where else did he hurt you?” he said, his voice like steel.
“Nowhere.” She faced him, unflinching. “He only restrained me for a couple of seconds. He went through my bag, then he released me and ran away.”
“What did he take from your bag?”
“Nothing.”
Clark frowned. “Nothing? You sure?”
“Yes,” she insisted. “I checked. Everything is still there.”
“Your notebook?”
“Yes.”
“Keys?”
“Yes.” She put her hand on his shoulder and met his eyes. “Clark, I really think it was a case of mistaken identity. He thought I was someone else. He was expecting something to be in my bag and when it wasn’t, he realised he had the wrong person and let me go.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Not a word.”
Clark’s initial frenzy of fears subsided, leaving a residue of anger. “So there wasn’t one moment, not one moment in the entire time we were together that you thought you could mention this?” he demanded harshly.
Lois’s hand dropped from his shoulder. “No,” she said, tone brittle. “And you know why? Because I knew you’d react exactly like this.”
He deserved that.
Clark glanced away, trying to dispel the image of the brute holding Lois, his hand rough against her soft cheeks. “I’m sorry, Lois,” Clark said, contritely. “I *am* angry. But not with you. The thought of anyone hurting you tears me apart. I’m sorry I sounded like you’d done something wrong.”
“I wasn’t hurt,” she said, looking up at him through her long lashes. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“I’m staying here tonight.”
“No, you’re not.” She faced him staunchly. “I know it’s because you love me. I know you hate the thought of me being hurt. I know it’s easier for me because you’re invulnerable and I’m not ... but Clark, we have to find a way to do this. You can’t bodyguard me all the time. Even when we’re married.”
“Lois ... if anything happened to you ...” He couldn’t finish. He couldn’t even think about it.
She came to him again and placed her hands on his face. “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she assured him. “Nothing bad, anyway. We’re going to have a long and blissful marriage, remember?”
He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face. He bent to linger a kiss on her cheek. “If I promise to try to control how I react, will you promise to tell me if anything like this happens again?”
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
Lois kissed him. “Now, you *really* need to go,” she said with a little smile.
“I know,” he said, but he wanted to stay – more than he’d ever wanted anything.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
He nodded.
“And Clark?”
“Yes?”
“Promise me you won’t sleep outside my apartment.”
He hesitated, because that was exactly what he'd been planning to do.
“Promise me,” she said.
“All right.”
She kissed him. “You’re to go to your apartment and go to bed. Before you go to sleep you’re to think about the incredible time we’ve had these past three days and think about our wedding and what it will be like to be married. Then you’re to go to sleep.”
He almost grinned. “Any more instructions, Ms Lane?” he asked.
“You can work out the rest for yourself, Mr Kent,” she said. “Just don’t forget to be here at seven tomorrow morning.”
“As if I’d forget,” he said. “I’ll be counting down the minutes.”
He kissed her again and without any prior intention on his part, it plunged deep and intense. Abruptly he broke away. “If I don’t leave now, I won’t leave,” he said hoarsely.
Lois walked to her apartment door and opened it for him. “Thank you for the most incredible weekend of my life,” she said.
He neared the doorway, but stayed inside her apartment. “Please be careful, honey,” he begged. “Please. And if anything happens, call me.”
“I will,” she promised. Her hand reached for his arm to impede his progress through the door. “I have your keys in my bag. I’ll get them.”
He shook his head. “You keep them. I have the spare set with me.”
“You’re OK with me having keys to your apartment?” she asked.
“You already have the keys to my heart.” He stalled long enough to kiss her as he exited her apartment. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” she replied.
Clark left her, forcing himself to walk away. Eight hours. Eight hours until he would see her again. It stretched long and lonesome before him.
He missed her already.
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The next morning, Lois, dressed and ready, waited for Clark.
Her fiancé.
That thought caused her heart to skip. She thought back to the hours spent around the table in the Kent kitchen, planning their wedding. It had been a taste of family and they had done everything to ensure Lois knew she belonged. Martha and Jonathan had been so supportive … and so careful not to intrude.
Lois pictured the wedding, imagined standing at the front of the church next to Clark. A little shiver of anticipation swirled through her.
And then there was the wedding night. Lois smiled a secret smile. She had plans for that night. Plans she had shared with no one.
Her left thumb nudged Clark’s ring on her finger. It still felt unfamiliar, but she loved the feel of it; loved what it represented - the promise she shared with Clark.
She glanced at the clock. He was late – two minutes late. That was unlike Clark. Of course being able to move at super speed helped enormously with being punctual.
Lois waited, with escalating impatience, for another fifteen minutes. Clark was never this late ... unless ...
He must have been called out on Superman business. With a sigh, Lois picked up her bag and headed for the Planet.
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Lois had been at the Planet less than twenty minutes when Perry called her into his office. “How was your weekend, darlin’?” he asked.
“Good.”
“Did you see Clark?”
Lois tried to hide her smile. “A bit.” OK, a lot, but Perry didn’t need to know that. She folded her arms, hiding the ring on her finger. They would tell Perry, of course, but when Clark was here to share it.
“So, where is he?”
“Who?”
“Clark.”
Lois looked out of Perry’s office as if she fully expected Clark to be at his desk. “He’s not here,” she said lamely.
“Do you know where he is?”
“No,” she said. At least she could answer that truthfully.
Perry looked at her suspiciously. “The last time Clark didn’t front for work, you and he had had a big-time falling-out.”
Lois sat, uninvited. “Actually Perry, I do know, sort of, where he is.”
“You do?”
“We got a lead ... nothing concrete yet ... but it involves Superman ... so Clark went to see if it was going to develop into anything worthwhile.”
Perry looked unconvinced. “So you two haven’t had a row?”
“No.”
“Any idea when he’ll be back?”
“I don’t expect he’ll be too long,” she said casually. “He may phone in something.”
Perry eyed her for a stretched moment. “What are *you* working on?” he asked.
Suddenly Lois had an inspired idea. “I’m going to chase up Sarah Crawford and see how the plans for the DC Memorial Hospital are progressing.”
Perry looked dubious. “Have you got anything else?”
“Not yet,” she admitted.
“Then we’d better hope Clark brings home a big Superman story, hadn’t we?” Perry barked.
Lois nodded, realising the less she said, the easier it would be to fit whatever Clark was doing into what she’d told Perry.
She stood and opened the door of his office. Perry’s agitated voice followed her. “And when Clark does show up, tell him to get himself in here. Pronto!”
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“Could I please see Mrs Crawford?” Lois asked the woman who answered Sarah’s door.
“Is Mrs Crawford expecting you?” she asked politely.
“No,” Lois said, “But would you please tell her Lois Lane from the Daily Planet would appreciate a few moments of her time?”
With a demure smile, the girl invited Lois into the large foyer and asked her to wait. A minute later, she was back. “Mrs Crawford will meet with you in the library,” she said.
Lois followed her into a large, majestic room. Two walls were completely hidden by floor-to-ceiling dark timber book shelves, filled with regal-looking volumes.
Two minutes later, Sarah walked in. She said nothing until the door was shut, then turned, her face alight with welcome. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, giving Lois a quick hug.
“What’s happening with the hospital?” Lois asked.
Sarah looked surprised. “Didn’t you get my email? I sent you an update last week.”
Lois clamped down on her lips to keep her smile from escaping. “Yes,” she said evenly, “I got your email, but I told my editor I was coming here to ask about the hospital, so that’s what I did.”
Sarah’s face split into a savvy smile. “So why *are* you here, Lane? Really?”
Slowly, Lois lifted her left hand from her side and held it up. Sarah saw it and her face erupted with excitement. “Nooooo!” she said.
“Yeeessss!” Lois hissed, grinning widely.
Sarah leapt to her and encompassed her in a big hug. Then she backed away and grabbed Lois’s hand, examining her ring. “Lois! I am so happy for you. What a beautiful ring. When did this happen? When’s the big day? How did he ask you? You must be so excited.”
“Friday, four weeks, on bended knee and I am.”
Sarah stared at her, processing her answers. “Four *weeks*?” she whooped.
Lois nodded. “Do you have anything planned for that weekend?” she asked casually.
“Probably,” Sarah said nonchalantly. Her grin flashed conspiratorially. “But nothing I can’t get out of.”
“So you’ll come?”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Yes.”
“Then nothing would keep me away.” Sarah hugged her again. “I am *so* happy for you, Lois. You *and* Clark. You are perfect for each other. I’ve known that since the day you came here asking about Luthor. The way Clark kept looking at you ...” Sarah grinned, eyebrows high. “He was a man smitten, even then.”
Lois couldn’t restrain her smile at Sarah’s enthusiasm. “Would you be my Matron of Honour?”
Sarah stilled, her eyes wide. “Me?” she gasped.
“Is it too soon after David’s passing? Are you worried about how it could be received? The Crawford Matriarch and all that?”
Sarah shook her head. “I’d *love* to be your Matron of Honour, Lois.” She hugged her again. “This is *so* exciting.” She scrutinised Lois. “Did you say four weeks?”
Lois nodded.
“Are you pregnant?” she asked with a huge grin.
Lois shook her head. “No, I’m not. But we’re sure and we want to be together.”
Sarah said nothing, just shot her a mischievous wink.
“We haven’t got all the details sorted yet,” Lois said, “But I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”
Sarah stared at Lois, eyes twinkling and a smile hovering around her mouth. “Have you got a few minutes?” she asked.
Lois shrugged. “I don’t have one single lead that looks like it could possibly ever be a story, so I should be chasing down something … but ...” She grinned. “I guess a few more minutes won’t hurt.”
“Come this way,” Sarah said, looking like a teenager cajoling a more-cautious friend into something exhibiting a definite whiff of trouble.
Lois followed her out of the big, imposing house and into a large, formal back garden, consisting of clipped lawns and precisely-trimmed conifers. Sarah led her to the end of the garden and between two trees that were part of a long row of streamlined poplars. They stopped at the tall timber-paling fence.
Sarah turned to Lois, grinning. “Ready?”
“For what?” Lois asked. “Looking at a fence?”
Sarah giggled and pushed lightly against the fence. A section of it swung open. “Come on,” Sarah said eagerly.
Lois followed Sarah through the concealed gate and gasped. It was as if they had been transported into another world ... another time even. The scene before her wouldn’t have looked out of place in the pages of a fairy tale.
A tiny cottage was nestled into an arc of towering trees. The pale stone of the cottage provided the perfect backdrop for the explosion of pastel-coloured daisies sprawling along the meandering path.
Sarah turned to Lois, her eyes shining. “Do you like it?” she asked.
“It’s gorgeous,” Lois managed, still reeling from the contrast between the dignified grandness of the main house and the cosy casualness of this cottage.
“David’s grandfather built it. His wife, Emma, was English, so he built it for her because she was homesick.”
“Who lives here now?”
Sarah’s grin widened. “That’s the point, you see,” she said eagerly. “No one lives here. David’s grandfather was a hopeless romantic, so when his wife died, he decided Emma’s cottage was to be for family and friends.” Sarah put her hands on Lois’s shoulders and turned her ninety degrees away from the cottage. “See that flagpole?” she said, pointing.
The flag was predominantly red, positioned low on the pole and neatly tucked away. “Yes,” Lois replied.
“If the flag is low, like now, the cottage is empty and available. If the flag is high, the cottage is being used. If the flag is at half-mast, it has been used and is yet to be readied for the next couple.”
Lois didn’t really understand why Sarah was disclosing family history right now. Unless ... could there possibly be a story here?
Sarah giggled. “You don’t get it, do you?” She pointed beyond the flagpole to the side fence. “On the other side of that fence is the lane that starts near the entrance to the main house. You come down the lane and check the flag. If it’s too low to be seen over the fence, you punch in the code to open the gate, hoist the flag high so there are no unexpected interruptions and you have yourselves a wonderful night ... or nights in the cottage. When you leave, you drop the flag to half-mast so I know to send in Tanya to make it perfect for whoever comes next.”
Lois looked at Sarah as understanding dawned. “You mean ... Clark and I can use it?”
Sarah chortled. “You bet you can, Lane. Anytime you and Clark want to disappear for a little ... bonding ... the cottage is all yours.”
Lois didn’t know what to say. “Sarah ... thank you. But we both have apartments in Metropolis, I’m not sure we’d need to use it.”
Sarah laughed again. “Of course you won’t *need* it Lane, but you might *enjoy* it with that hunk of yours.”
Lois grinned, suddenly seeing the possibilities. “Thanks, Crawf.”
Sarah leant a little closer to Lois. “The code is 2315,” she said covertly. “Emma was born February 3, 1915. We don’t take bookings, you simply turn up and if it’s available, you help yourself. It has everything you could possibly need except perishables. There is no cost – it was David’s grandfather’s way of honouring the memory of his beloved wife.”
Lois hugged Sarah. “Thank you, Sarah,” she said. “I’m so touched you’ve offered it to us. Thank you for trusting us.”
“Thanks for being trustworthy.” A look of understanding passed between the women.
“I really should get back to work,” Lois said with genuine regret. She hadn’t seen enough of Sarah the past few weeks.
They went through the concealed gate and into the structured stateliness of the garden. As they neared the house, two small children ran to greet Sarah. She knelt and picked up both of them.
“Ms Lane, these are my children – David Junior, known as DJ, and ... Emma.”
Lois was sure she saw the flicker of a wink in Sarah’s eye as she introduced her daughter. The children regarded Lois with frank interest from the safety of their mother’s arms. Lois smiled at them. “How old are you?” she asked the girl.
“I’m three,” said Emma, demonstrating with stubby fingers. “And DJ is two.”
“They’re beautiful children, Mrs Crawford,” Lois said.
“Thank you, Ms Lane.” The girl who had answered the door appeared. “Tanya,” Sarah directed. “Please show Ms Lane out.” She turned to Lois. “I’ll expect to hear further developments,” Sarah said in a voice so formal and detached, Lois nearly choked on her stifled laughter.
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Lois’s cell rang as she got into her Jeep. She reached into her bag for it, smiling, sure it would be Clark.
It was Perry. “Hi, Chief,” she said.
“Lois, you need to get yourself to the Met Bank. There’s been an attempted robbery.”
“*Another* one?” Lois asked, remembering it was just last week the executive from that very bank had given the donation to Superman for foiling the previous attempted robbery.
“Yes,” Perry confirmed. “But it was unsuccessful again.”
Lois grinned and started her engine. “I’ll be there inside ten minutes,” she told Perry.
She drove out of the sweeping driveway of Sarah’s house, her anticipation bubbling at the thought of seeing Clark again – even if she had to pretend she was just a reporter and he was just a superhero.
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Lois parked the Jeep and hurried into the bank. Mr Parkin, the man from last week’s presentation, was surrounded by a handful of reporters. Lois surveyed the room, expecting to see Superman. There was no sign of him.
Lois pulled out the notebook and pen from her bag and tuned into what Mr Parkin was saying.
“... very fortunate that, yet again, the attempted robbery was unsuccessful.”
“How *exactly* did Superman stop them this time?” Lois asked.
The group of reporters turned to her as one, their faces a mix of disapproval and ridicule.
“It ... er, wasn’t Superman,” Mr Parkin said.
“It *wasn’t*?”
“They set off our state-of-the-art security system, which alerted the security company and the police; representatives of both arrived before the alleged thieves had made their escape.”
“So where was Superman?” Lois said brusquely.
Mr Parkin shot her a look of annoyance. “Are there any further questions?” he asked, addressing the group. “About *this* incident?”
There were other questions ... from the other reporters. Lois scribbled his answers automatically – no, there was no link to the previous attempt, yes, the police had the suspects in custody - her mind on something else.
Some*one* else.
Where was Clark?
When the bank executive had finished, Lois called Clark’s cell. He didn’t answer.
She called his desk phone. He didn’t answer.
She called his home number.
No answer there either.
Lois drove back to the Planet, trying to smother the persistent stem of uneasiness that wanted to take root. As soon as she stepped from the elevator, her eyes sought Clark’s desk. He wasn’t there. His desk was exactly how he’d left it on Friday afternoon.
Lois sat at her own desk and logged onto her computer. She flicked through the three major news sites on the internet. There was no breaking news of a disaster. Nothing which would require Superman’s extended presence.
And no mention of Superman appearing anywhere.
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By two o’clock, Lois’s bank story was long finished and she was hungry. She’d put off going for lunch, hoping Clark would come and they could go together.
She knew the gnawing in her stomach wasn’t solely due to the lack of food. She kept telling herself Clark had to be all right, but knowing this in her mind had not safeguarded her stomach from degenerating into a pit of anxiety.
She’d trawled the internet repeatedly, looking for a story breaking somewhere in the world. Something that required Superman. Something that said he was there, providing the super-help they needed.
But there was nothing.
No disaster.
No crime bust.
No appearance of Superman.
So where was he?
He couldn’t be hurt.
Could he?
He couldn’t be sick.
Could he?
So where *was* he?
Irritated at the cyclic, unproductive stream of her thoughts, Lois yanked her coat from the stand and hustled into it. She decided against informing Perry she was going out. There was no point putting herself in the firing line for more questions. She left the Planet building and hurried to Clark’s apartment.
Inside, it was empty. And cold.
Lois went into his bedroom. His bed had been slept in; the sheets were still awry on his bed.
She looked around for anything to help her piece together his morning. Had he dressed for work? Lois opened the door of his closet. Four suits hung there next to a row of crisply pressed business shirts. Then came jeans and the more casual shirts.
Lois lowered her eyes to the floor. Clark’s shoes were neatly arranged in a row ... three pairs of dress shoes – one tux-worthy, the other two she recognised as his work shoes - two pairs of tennis shoes, a pair of rugged farm boots, his sandals and lastly, a pair of casual shoes.
She sieved through her memory – she was fairly sure these were all the pairs he owned. And also, she was convinced she could recall only four business suits.
So, wherever Clark was, he must be wearing the red boots of Superman ... and the Suit.
That brought irrational relief. Somehow Superman seemed less likely to be hurt than Clark. Which was ridiculous, of course.
But her mind didn’t want to work logically; it was under fire from the apprehension flaring up from her stomach.
Where was he?
And wherever he was, why hadn’t he contacted her?
Lois strode into his living area, shivering. Clark didn’t need his apartment heated, but whenever she’d been here, the temperature inside had been pleasant. She felt an icy breeze and noticed the door to the balcony was ajar.
Clark had come in through that door on Friday. Had he closed it? She couldn’t remember. He’d been preoccupied with being late and her mind had been full of the call from Honduras.
But surely one of them would have noticed it was open.
And even if they had left it open all weekend, Clark would have felt the cold last night and closed it.
So had someone broken in? Through the balcony door? Who, other than Superman, could get to that balcony from the outside? Or had they taken him out through that door?
Lois rushed onto the balcony and peered over the guard rail. With an exasperated sigh at her own stupidity, she hurried back inside. What had she been looking for? Clark? Outside on the ground? Had she really expected to see him lying there?
Lois closed and locked the balcony door. She leant against it, her mind threatening to spiral out of control. With steely determination, she shut down the barrage of questions and forced herself to think clearly.
It seemed most likely Clark, as Superman, had left his apartment in a hurry. Possibly from the balcony, forgetting to close the door.
But that didn’t explain why he hadn’t contacted her, nor how his actions had managed to evade every news service in the known world.
Lois searched the fridge and the cupboards – unsure exactly what she was looking for, but hoping there would be something ... anything ... to give her a clue to Clark’s whereabouts. There was nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to give her the slightest hint of where he might be.
She pulled her cell from her bag and dialled his cell number. Seconds later she heard his ring tone from his bedroom. She hurried in and opened the top drawer of the chest next to his bed. There was his cell, along with his keys and wallet.
Wherever he was, he was there as Superman.
Lois shut down her call and closed the drawer. Back in the living area, she found a blank piece of paper and a pen and scribbled a note.
Clark, darling.
Could you contact me as soon as you get this? Thanks.
I love you.
Lois.
She put the note on the table where he couldn’t fail to see it and left his apartment.
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Emma’s cottage looks something like this -
http://www.thomaskinkadegallery.com/painting.php?id=184
