From Part 23:
“I guess I’ve been putting it off, hoping it would be later rather than sooner. But you’re right. I’ve run out of excuses. Lois deserves to know the whole truth.”
“So you’ll tell her sooner rather than later.” It wasn’t really a question.
“Yes, I will. But I’ll do it someplace public and fancy so she can’t yell at me too loud. Maybe Angelino’s next Saturday.”
“Don’t be silly, honey. Bring her here. Let her see the way you *really* live. Then maybe the red carpet life won’t seem so intimidating.”
“No, Martha, I think the boy has the right idea.” Both Clark and Martha turned in surprise to Jonathan. He didn’t say much, but when he did speak, it was generally a good idea to listen. “She already knows that ‘Caleb’ isn’t a playboy at heart. But ‘Caleb’ is only part of who Clark is. The high life is part of the package as well. She deserves to know *all* of what she’s signing up for. She’s been with Superman and Caleb. It couldn’t hurt to give her a taste of what Clark Kent can offer. Let him impress her. Besides, if you stay in Metropolis she’ll have an easier time if she wants to go home alone. She’ll only need a taxi, not an airplane.”
“I appreciate the advice—from both of you,” Clark said. “I’ll figure it out. Now, are you going to call me on the carpet for anything else, or can I finish my lunch now?”
“Nope. I’m done,” Martha said cheerily. “And I’m hungry.”
*****Now, Part 24*****
Caleb stopped by to pick Lois up after work that night. It was getting to be a habit. They’d have dinner together—sometimes at a local restaurant, sometimes take-out at Lois’s apartment, but most often Caleb would cook and they’d spend the evening at his house. It was more comfortable than Lois’s apartment and afforded them more privacy. Tonight he’d made a simple chicken curry dish with apples.
“Mmmm…this is terrific,” Lois said around a mouthful of curry. She managed to swallow before adding, “Don’t tell me—you got the recipe from the owner of a little restaurant in Agra when you visited the Taj Mahal.”
Caleb grinned cheekily. “Not even close. I got it from my college football teammate who got it from his older sister whose roommate grew up as a diplomat’s kid in New Delhi. *She* got it from her aya.”
“What’s an aya?”
“An Indian nanny.”
“You played football?” Lois sounded surprised.
“Yep. I even have a game ball.”
Really? Why haven’t I seen it?”
Caleb blushed. “It’s in by bedroom.”
Lois covered her own blush with a follow-up question. “I’m kind of surprised you played sports in college. I would have thought you’d sit it out for fear of having an unfair advantage.”
Caleb shrugged. “It’s only unfair if I use my powers. I did drop out of sports for a while in junior high when I was still learning to control my strength, but by the time I was in high school I could play again. It’s hard to explain, but I don’t use my powers all the time. Sometimes things like hearing just seem to ‘kick in,’ like when I hear a call for Superman, but my strength is mostly under my control. Same with my speed or my enhanced vision. I can turn them on or off pretty much at will.”
“So you were really just like any other player?” She sounded curious, if skeptical.
“Mostly. My reflexes are still better than most people’s, but not entirely out of the normal range. And the mandatory weight lifting was probably a waste of time,” he winked. “The trickiest part was the contact, because of my invulnerability. I played safety, so I might be the guy doing the tackling or the guy getting tackled. Either way, I had to be careful so the other player wouldn’t get hurt.”
Caleb took a bite of saffron rice and changed the subject. “I want to take you out for dinner soon. Someplace really nice. I was thinking of Angelino’s. It might take me a couple of weeks to get a reservation, but I’ve heard it’s worth the wait.”
Lois’s eyes widened. “Angelino’s? That’s probably the best restaurant in Metropolis. What’s the occasion?”
Clark’s smile was enigmatic. “No occasion. Just a chance to show my best girl a good time.” His face turned serious and his voice got quiet as he added, “And to have a conversation that’s been delayed too long. I figure if we’re in a fancy restaurant you won’t yell as loud.”
Lois’s mouth went dry. Dinner at Angelino’s would normally mean only one thing: a proposal. Given that he was worried about her yelling, she trusted that Caleb had the good sense to mean something else: a confession.
“Angelino’s would be great,” she smiled. “Just don’t make the reservation for this weekend, even if you could get it. I’m going to need all Saturday just to find the right dress.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry—I don’t think even the President himself could get into Angelino’s on that short notice.” He laid a warm hand over hers. “But soon.” It sounded like more than a date—it sounded like a promise.
*****
Superman’s early Monday morning patrol had been relatively uneventful. There had been a couple of fender-benders on the main commuter highways, but Clark let the local emergency services handle those. Mostly he’d just let himself be seen in the Metropolis sky. Landing in his fenced back yard, he quickly changed back into his blue jeans and Henley shirt.
Just as he came through the back door into his bright, cheery kitchen, the phone rang. A slight frown crossed his face as he reached to answer it. Who’d be calling his house at 7:45 on Monday morning?
“Hello?”
“Congratulations, Clark!” Now he was even more confused—it was only 6:45 in Kansas.
“Lana? What are you doing up this early? You’re usually a night owl.”
“Not today. This morning I was awoken by a phone call at 6:30. It seems the committee couldn’t find Clark Kent, so they opted for his PR representative instead.” She sounded remarkably cheerful, given the hour.
Clark leaned back against a counter and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry to be dense, Lana, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Clark! I know you’ve been busy, but have you really forgotten what day this is?”
“It’s November 8,” Clark began, a confused frown still on his face. Then the pieces came together. It couldn’t be. “You’re kidding me,” he said.
“No, sir. I wouldn’t kid you about this. The American Book Award nominations will be announced at 9:00 Eastern this morning, and you, my friend, are on the list. I’ll give you a little time to bask in your own glory, but I need an official reaction for the press by 7:45 my time. That gives you one hour.”
Clark stood up straight. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming. Do my folks know?”
“Not yet. I figured you’d want to tell them in person.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll be in Smallville in ten minutes and at the office by 7:30.”
“Okay. I’ll try to be out of my pajamas by then.” Before she hung up the phone, Lana added, “Clark? I really am proud of you. I know you don’t think so, but I think you have a good shot at winning.”
“Thanks, Lana. It’s an honor just to be nominated. I couldn’t have done any of it without you and Pete. I hope you both know how much I appreciate you.”
“Of course we do. I’ll see you in a bit.”
A wide smile on his face, Clark hung up the phone and reached for Caleb’s cell. He had dialed five digits of Lois’s home number before it hit him.
He couldn’t share this joy with her.
And that was just plain stupid.
His initial impulse was to tell her his secret that very morning, but he quickly thought better of it. She had to work today and she deserved better than a hurried explanation with no time to process it afterwards. He had a reservation at Angelino’s in less than two weeks, but there was no way he could wait that long.
Tonight. It had to be tonight. She could yell all she wanted, but he wasn’t going to let this secret come between them any longer.
*****
Lois sat in the morning story meeting and tried to focus. She’d already given her own briefing—what there was of it. Things were pretty quiet around the city at the moment so she was going to have to go out and beat the bushes. She dragged her attention back to Pete, who was finishing up his explanation of the Tigers’ hopeless downward spiral.
Next up was Tim Stevens, who covered the arts beat. “Riverdance has been held over for another four weeks.” Yawn. “We’ve got a profile of Dianna Stride coming out in Thursday’s lifestyle section.” Double yawn. “But the big news in the arts world is the American Book Award nominations.” Tim waved a computer print-out dramatically in the air. “Hot off the presses. It’s got a local connection because the awards dinner is going to be in Metropolis this year. Garrison Keillor is going to host it.”
“Well, who’s on the list?” Cat asked with mild interest.
“There are four categories, each with five nominations. Do you really want to hear all twenty names right now?”
“Nah—who cares about poetry? Just give us the fiction list,” Ralph chimed in.
Rolling his eyes, Tim complied nevertheless. Reading from the paper in his hand, he rattled them off. “’The Shipping News,’ ‘Come to Me,’ ‘The Pugilist,’ ‘Swimming in the Volcano,’ and ‘Little David’.”
“Oooh, Little David,” Cat mused out loud. “Now *that* has potential.”
“Since when do you care about literary awards?” Lois knew she sounded petty, but she couldn’t stop herself. Something about that woman just brought out the worst in her.
“I don’t,” Cat answered breezily. Then her voice dropped an octave into her sultry zone. “But ‘Little David’ means Clark Kent will have to come out of hiding. And Clark Kent…” she paused for dramatic effect, ”… is good for the gossip business.”
*****
Lex Luthor leaned back in his leather desk chair, his feet propped up on his desk top. His eyes meandered back and forth between two objects. The first was a glowing green crystal, about the size of a softball, which he turned idly in his hands. He’d paid dearly for it and it still needed to be tested, but, if it could do what the seller claimed, he’d finally found Superman’s Achilles’ heel. The second object was the arts section of the Daily Planet which lay open on his desk. Clark Kent was about to be flushed out of hiding. There had to be a way to make those two facts work together.
Within minutes, he had a plan. It had flair. It had panache. It had everything a Lex Luthor plan should have. And it would rid him of two rivals at one stroke. Smiling, he buzzed for Mrs. Cox. If his test had the desired result, Clark Kent was about to get in invitation he wouldn’t be able to resist.
*****
Lois was in a funk. She knew exactly why. What she didn’t know was what she was going to do about it. Caleb—no, that wasn’t his real name, and that was the problem— *Clark* had been nominated for an American Book Award. He must be on cloud nine. She’d been itching to call him all day. She wanted to tell him how proud she was, how much he deserved it, how confident she was that he would win. She wanted to send him something, take him somewhere—do *something* to celebrate his moment in the sun. But she couldn’t. Not without revealing the secret that *he* should be disclosing to *her*.
It didn’t help that work was so slow. She was systematically working her way through every snitch she had and every half-baked idea in her ‘potential stories’ file and she was still coming up empty. By quitting time she was in rare form. If anyone besides Caleb came within ten feet of her, they were liable to have their head handed to them on a platter, and the only thing keep Caleb safe was his invulnerability.
Lois was still scowling at a blinking cursor when Caleb arrived, bearing chocolate *and* a vase full of flowers. “What are these for?” Lois asked, accepting the gifts with less grace than he had expected.
“Just because.” He tried a winning smile, but it didn’t have the intended effect.
“You’re sure Jimmy didn’t call and warn you what a rotten mood I was in?” Her tone was almost belligerent.
Caleb frowned with concern. “No, he didn’t. What’s wrong?”
Lois turned her scowl on Caleb…Clark…whatever his name was. “I can’t tell you. And that’s what’s wrong.”
Clark took both her hands in his and lifted her to her feet before wrapping her in a tender embrace. “How can I help?” he whispered.
By telling me the truth, you idiot! That’s what she thought. What she *said* was a strangled, “Not here. Get us out of here. Somewhere with no other people around.”
“Okay.” Clark had no idea what had made her so upset, but he was determined to do something about it. Putting his own plans on hold—what Lois needed was cheering up, not a shock to the system—he stepped back and took her hand to lead her to the elevator. He felt a tug as she resisted coming with him. He turned back to her to see what the trouble was.
“Just a minute.” Lois turned back to her desk and picked up the box of chocolates. “Okay, now I’m ready.” It was obvious to Clark that she was barely holding herself together.
“Come on then,” he said, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go get you some dinner and some cheering up.”
***
It was a quiet flight. Lois didn’t seem inclined to talk, and Clark didn’t want to upset her further by pushing her. He thought she looked surprised when then landed on the same tropical beach where she had first offered to protect Superman by not revealing his second identity. He set her down gently. She turned to look over the water, facing away from him.
He was about to offer to go fetch a carry-out supper, but she spoke first.
Turning on her heel—an impressive maneuver on sand—she looked him directly in the eye and said, “What are you waiting for?” It was clearly a challenge. Yep, it was back to bite him with a vengeance. He opened his mouth to reply, but she talked over him. “And don’t give me that nonsense about Angelino’s and me not yelling at you. I’m yelling now!” So she was.
He set the box of chocolates down on the beach and tried to take her hands in his, but she pulled them away. “I was planning to…” he began. She cut him off before he could say ‘tell you tonight.’
“Planning what?” She paced back and forth on the beach, her arms flying about wildly. “Another delay? Another excuse? What’s the hold-up?” Boy, she really could yell when she had a mind to.
She blew out a frustrated breath and made an effort to speak calmly. “I understood at first. I really did. You obviously had some issues to work out, and I was willing to let you do it. But enough is enough. I don’t know what else I can do to convince you that I’m not shallow enough to judge you for what your name is or what you do for a living. I don’t really care, except that now it’s coming between us.”
She’d just about worked up to yelling again by the time she got to the real zinger: “For heaven’s sake, Caleb! I can *handle* Clark Kent! Why can’t you?!”
Their startled gasps came in stereo. They stared at each other, both of them slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
At last, Clark spoke. “I am such an idiot.” She didn’t answer, but he thought her face softened, at least a little. He kicked a pebble fifty yards out to sea. He wished he was wearing his civvies. He really felt like shoving his hands in his pockets, but the suit had none. Sheepishly, he tried again. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe that I was going to tell you tonight?”
She raised one eyebrow. “Why?”
Did she mean why was he going to tell her now, or why should she believe him? Maybe both. In any case, he wasn’t about to ask for a clarification. This was his chance, he knew. He’d get one shot to convince her that he was for real.
Taking a deep breath, he motioned for her to sit on the log that he’d pulled onto the beach only a few weeks ago. It seemed a lifetime ago. She sat on the log, and he sat on the sand at her feet, one elbow resting on the log as he looked up at her. He picked up a palm frond and idly broke it into pieces as he talked, not daring to look her in the eye.
“I almost called you this morning,” he began. “Lana called with the news of the Book Award nomination, and the minute I hung up with her I started dialing your number.”
“I wanted to call you, too, as soon as I heard.” The pain in her voice caused him to look up. He’d thought he was protecting her, but he’d only ended up hurting her.
“I am so sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. “I never meant to hurt you. I thought that by not telling you I was keeping Clark Kent from coming between us, but it didn’t work. He came between us anyway.”
She didn’t argue, but she didn’t yell at him either. That gave him some hope. “I guess you’ve known for a while?” he ventured. “I should have known you’d figure it out.”
“Yes, you should have,” she agreed. Then her voice softened. “And I probably could have told you before now that I knew. I was trying to give you some space.”
“You did.” He reached tentatively for her hand and was pleasantly surprised when she let him hold it. “You gave me a precious gift—time and space to be an ordinary man. I loved being Caleb Knight. We had a lot of fun together…didn’t we?”
She squeezed his hand and gave him a watery smile. “Yeah, we did.” Now she took on a look of determination. “And we still can. What’s so scary about Clark? Why can’t he do the same things that Caleb can? I don’t understand why anything has to change just because I know what you do for a living. You’re still the same man, aren’t you?”
Clark sighed and tried to explain. “Of course I am. It doesn’t change who we are. And yeah, we can still have pizza in Tegucigalpa or pasta in Florence. The people there don’t know me as Clark in the first place. But other people…they treat me differently, and if you’re known as Clark Kent’s girlfriend, they’ll treat you differently too. That’s the problem.”
“You think that I can’t handle the limelight?” Her voice carried both disbelief and a hint of offense.
“No!” His vehemence made her jump, and he took a moment to calm himself. “You can handle anything you set your mind to, Lois. Believe me, I’ve been to more black tie affairs than I care to remember, and there isn’t a woman at any of them who can hold a candle to you.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
He discovered a sudden interest in his knees and she had to strain to hear his reply. “That you won’t want it. That you won’t be happy in it. That you’ll wish I was only Caleb and not Clark.” He looked up at her again, his eyes pleading for understanding. “That you’ll think I pulled a bait-and-switch on you.”
Lois gave him an appraising look. He waited for her verdict. Finally she said the last thing he’d expected. “Don’t you want to know when I figured out who you really were?”
He blinked at her. “Only if you want to tell me.” He really didn’t think he had the right to ask anything from her tonight.
“In Florence.” His eyebrows shot up. That early? She’d obviously seen the question in his eyes, because she nodded her head and added, “That’s why I spent so long in the bathroom after I spilled that wine. I knew who you were, and I was trying to decide what to do about it.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but she laid two fingers on his lips to silence him. “The point I’m trying to make here is that I knew what I was getting into almost from the very beginning.” She slipped from the log to join him on the sand, her knees almost touching his. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she made sure she had eye contact.
“Clark, I knew exactly who I was falling in love with.”
***
Lois stretched her bare legs out in front of her and wiggled her toes. The very edges of the incoming waves lapped at her feet and washed the sand from under her heels, causing them to slowly sink into the wet beach. She leaned back against Clark, who sat behind her, his legs straddling her and his arms wrapped around her waist. The gibbous moon was setting in front of them, throwing a silver shimmer across the water. She was still in her work clothes—or rather, in her short skirt and blouse. Her jacket, nylons, and shoes sat in a neat pile above the tide line along with Clark’s shoes and sweater—he’d finally gotten into those civvies when he brought their supper back. A cheap plastic basket lined with paper sat within arm’s reach.
Clark peeked into the basket. “There’s one last shrimp. Do you want it?” His voice rumbled softly in her ear.
Lois shook her head. “It’s all yours, flyboy. But I get the last chocolate.” They sat quietly for another minute. “This island has a lot of history for us,” she mused. “Are we going to have every vital conversation here?”
He bent his head to kiss the side of her neck. “I don’t know about that, but we can come back any time you want.”
“I know. Why do you think I’m dating you?” she teased.
“Only for the tropical beaches?” he asked in mock alarm.
“Well…not *only*…” she conceded.
After another minute of quiet the moon had disappeared altogether. A field of stars was scattered over the sky.
“Did you find a dress you liked?” Clark asked, apropos of nothing.
“As a matter of fact, I did. And I’m not telling you a thing about it. You’ll just have to wait and see it in a couple of weeks.”
“I’m really looking forward to Angelino’s. Even more so now that I’m not worried about you yelling at me.”
“So am I. And don’t be so nervous about me yelling. You seem to be able to take it.”
He gave her a gentle squeeze and answered, “Just as long as we always get to kiss and make up afterward.” After another moment of silence, he asked, “Do you like dressing up? Or is it a chore?”
“I enjoy it. Especially if there’s dancing involved. It was wonderful dancing with you at the Lawrence the other week. You’re very graceful.”
“You didn’t appreciate me cutting in at the White Orchid Ball, though.”
“No, I didn’t. But that was only because you got between me and my mark. The dancing itself was incredible. That’s why I was so out of sorts at the Lawrence. It kept reminding me of the first time we met, but I couldn’t say anything because you didn’t know that I knew.”
“I was such a fool. I should have told you ages ago.”
“Probably. But I forgive you.”
“Thank you.”
There was another brief pause, then, “I want to take you to a black tie event. It’s on December 4. That’s a Saturday.” She knew that date. She’d heard it that morning at the story meeting.
She turned to face him, a playful smile on her lips. “Why, Mr. Kent, are you inviting me to the American Book Award dinner?”
“Indeed I am,” he smiled, “if you don’t mind being on the cover of every entertainment magazine in North America, that is.” His tone became serious and he added, “I’d really love to have you there.”
Reaching to lay one hand on his cheek, she replied, “I’d really love to be there with you. It doesn’t matter to me whether we’re barefoot on this beach or in black tie and evening gown in a crowded ballroom. As long as we’re together, I’ll be happy. *You* make me happy.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her as if he never intended to stop. “You make me happy,” he breathed. “I’ve never felt like this before. I can’t imagine my life—any life—without you in it.”
