From Part 12
Clark stood hastily. “I’m going,” he said.
Lois smiled at his sudden urgency. “I’ll wait here.”
He hesitated. “Lois, you won’t do anything dangerous, will you?”
“Me?” she said with wide-eyed innocence.
“You,” he said. “Just leave Mr Smith alone. We have all the evidence we need. The Metropolis police will call the local police and they’ll be here very soon.”
“Then what do you suggest I do?” she asked.
“Rest,” he replied. “You’re supposed to be on vacation.” He bent low to kiss her.
He walked out of sight and seconds later Lois heard the low roar of his departure.
She drained her pineapple juice, pushed back her chair and sauntered casually away.
But not in the direction of the villa. Instead she headed to the back of the administration block in search of stolen treasures.
Part 13
Lois positioned herself behind a large palm tree. From here, she could see the door to the shed at the back of the administration block. On the door was the sign ‘Security’.
She had climbed one fence and picked the locks on two gates to get here. She was now in a tiny area, bare except for the palm tree that afforded her some cover. She settled in for what she hoped wouldn’t be a long wait. The prickly trunk was unforgiving against her shoulder.
Her mind drifted back to the lunch she had shared with Clark.
She was so glad they had talked, so glad they had had the chance to air his thoughts and hopefully, drive them from his mind. There was still one thing, one thing she wanted to avoid – unless he already knew.
Had Clark noticed her tears the last time they had made love?
If he had, she knew he would immediately assume they had been caused by her mourning for the child they couldn’t have. That would explain his almost virginal skittishness every time they had approached intimacy during the following few days.
But it was also possible he hadn’t seen her tears. And if he hadn’t, she really wanted to spare him the hurt of knowing how far she had allowed their relationship to slide.
His distancing could have been merely a part of his plan to loosen their bonds. And it was also possible he had decided that if they didn’t make love, she couldn’t be disappointed every month.
So maybe he hadn’t noticed.
Lois smiled to herself. Clark. How could he *ever* think she could love someone else?
She willed him to hurry back - her mind already leapfrogging the necessity of nailing Mr Smith and writing the story to the time when she and Clark could be alone in their villa. She intended to show him that her love for him had not diminished one bit.
“Ms Lane.”
Lois jumped at the voice from behind her. She turned.
First she saw the gun – only a foot from her face. Then she saw Mr Smith. “I told you I always carry everything I need,” he said.
“What are you doing, Mr Smith?” she asked.
He laughed gruffly. “Don’t play games with me. I know who you are. You’re Lois Lane, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Planet. You and your husband, Clark Kent, are here investigating the burglaries.”
“As you said, Mr Smith, I’m the editor,” Lois told him coolly. “It is not my job to chase down leads and write stories.”
“Old habits die hard, Ms Lane,” he said. “And today’s Daily Planet has arrived and I read a very interesting story by Mr Kent on page two.”
“Even reporters take vacations,” she said.
He sniggered. “Next you’ll be telling me you believe in coincidences, Ms Lane.”
Lois’s thoughts flitted back to his lingering gaze on her partially uncovered thigh and figured there was a good chance she could keep him talking until Clark arrived back from Metropolis. And get the story at the same time.
“Nothing to say, Ms Lane,” Mr Smith sneered. “From what I hear, that’s not like you. Well, just for the record – not that you’ll have a chance to write the story – but in case you’re taking notes in that pretty head of yours, I don’t believe in coincidences either.” He stepped closer. “You see, Ms Lane, you aren’t the only one who can put two and two together and come up with four. Consider this ... a high-profile Metropolis couple with a nose for trouble makes a booking with a hotel. And it isn’t a vacation they’ve had planned for weeks, or even months. Oh no, they book and pay and arrive all within less than a week. That is unusual. That makes me very interested in why they are here. That makes me wonder where they got their information. That makes me nervous.”
“What do you have to be nervous about, Mr Smith?”
“Not as much as you, Ms Lane.”
“What do I have to be nervous about?”
“The fact that a person who has lived here for so long would know exactly where and when to dump a body in the ocean so that the tides ensure it is taken out to sea – to provide a banquet for all those exotic sea creatures - such that when the body does, eventually, wash up on a faraway beach, it will be unrecognisable.” He gestured with his gun towards the door. “Now get into that room you find so fascinating.”
Lois came out from behind the tree and shuffled to the door. She stopped there and felt the end of the gun prod into her back.
“Keep going.”
She pushed open the door and entered the dimness of the shed. She heard a switch behind her and the room flooded with light. It was meticulously neat with tools and equipment lined up like soldiers on the wall of shelves. She turned to face Mr Smith as he shut the door and locked it. “My husband will come looking for me,” she warned.
“Really?” Mr Smith said with evident scepticism.
“Really.”
“Then why isn’t he here now?” he taunted. “Legend has it that Lane and Kent do everything together ... or did, once.”
“He went ... to the bathroom.”
Mr Smith chuckled. “Or maybe you two just aren’t that close anymore. The Daily Planet is delivered here every day, and I am an avid reader. I told Mr Marelli that many of our guests appreciate having a taste of home. It’s been over a year since you had a story together.”
“I told you, I’m the editor now.”
“Good, good,” Mr Smith drawled. “Professional jealousy. That’s motive.”
Lois gasped. “You’re going to try to pin this on Clark?”
“Unless he’s foolish enough to try to find you – in which case there will be double helpings for the fish.” Mr Smith smirked. “Thirty years here has taught me this, Ms Lane - any time a couple is not together in this place, at least one of them can be found on the pool deck or in the bar – looking for a like-minded stranger to ... ah ... put the zing into a tropical retreat. Perhaps your husband has already found a scantily clad young thing on the pool deck. Perhaps he’s already half way to forgetting he’s a married man.”
Lois bit back her defence of Clark, realising it was infinitely preferable for Mr Smith to think Clark was a wandering husband than a superhero currently informing the Metropolis police of the collection of stolen goods in the next room. And her captor did seem inclined to talk - she should benefit from that. “Why do you do it?” she asked. “Why do you organise burglaries on the homes of the hotel guests while they’re on vacation?”
“Because I like pretty things,” he said.
“But they’re not *your* pretty things,” Lois said.
“Wealth gives people a strange faith in things,” Mr Smith mused quietly. “They believe that if something cost a lot of money, it must be infallible. Hence they buy exorbitantly priced security systems and believe that due to the resulting hole in their bank balance, it will protect their precious belongings.”
“But that doesn’t stop you.”
He preened for a moment. “There’s nothing about security that I don’t know,” he boasted. “The moment a new system comes onto the market, I suggest to Mr Marelli that we would be remiss in our duty if we didn’t install it here. Once he has paid for it, I have the opportunity to study it and figure out how to circumvent it.”
“Why luxury goods?” Lois asked.
“Luxury goods?” he said as his top lip curled with distaste. “Luxury goods are simply minimally improved versions brandishing a name that adds a few zeroes to the price. They are not for the rich, but for the stupid.”
“So you really wanted the special pieces? The one-of-a-kind treasures and antiques?”
He nodded, a dreamy look on his face.
“Why?”
He pulled from his distracted stance and looked at her, his eyes hard and unrelenting. “My name’s Smith,” he said.
“So?”
“Smith,” he said derisively.
“Because you have a common surname, you want to own rare things?”
“Precisely. I worked here for over twenty-five years and saved every dollar I could. There was a Royal Worcester bowl I wanted – just a small one.” He spread his hands about five inches apart. Lois eyed the gun he seemed to have almost forgotten he held. “Even after saving for so long, I didn’t have half of what I needed for one piece. I knew there had to be a better way.”
“Not if it lands you a long prison term.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem likely, does it, Ms Lane?” he challenged. “You and Mr Kent come away together to a romantic paradise. You are about to disappear. He will only be able to give scant details about where and when you were last seen because he wasn’t with you. That’s suspicious. And he doesn’t have an alibi. Unless he chooses to bring the young thing he found on the pool deck into this and then he has motive. I can see the Daily Planet headline now – Cheating Husband Kills Vengeful Wife.”
“You wouldn’t want this place crawling with cops,” she said.
“Exactly,” Mr Smith agreed quickly. “Which is why you have been granted a few extra minutes of life – in the vain hope that Mr Kent does remember he has a wife - because I would much prefer a nice, clean, all-ends-tied-up tragic drowning accident than a messy murder investigation that will besmirch this establishment for months.”
“You care about the reputation of this place?” Lois asked with surprise.
“Of course I do.”
“So you never hit on people staying here at the Caribbean Coral?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said sharply. “That would lead directly to me.” He eyed her speculatively. “Why *did* you choose the Caribbean Coral? Why not one of the other hotels in the Marelli chain?”
“Would you believe me if I said it was pure luck that we came to your hotel?”
“No.”
Lois shrugged. “I don’t have any other explanation,” she said.
“Someone talked,” Mr Smith said bitterly. “Probably those idiots Ed and Howie who bungled the de Wolde job.”
His sudden agitation wasn’t going to help either her story or her chances of being unhurt when Clark arrived back. “How do you know who is staying at the other hotels?” Lois asked nonchalantly.
His manner changed. He really did seem to enjoy talking about himself. “Ever seen a baseball fan who knows more about his favourite ball player’s career than the ball player does himself?”
Lois hadn’t, but to keep him talking, she said, “Yeah.”
“Call me a fan,” Mr Smith said. “I can’t actually play with the big boys – the collectors of beautiful and rare things - so I watch them, learn about them, catalogue their collections and bide my time until they take a vacation.”
Lois could hear the pride in his voice. “You have people working for you at other hotels?”
“My nieces and nephews followed in my footsteps.”
“Into crime, you mean?” she asked, keeping her tone even.
“Hospitality,” he explained. “With a major interest in security. The bright ones I train in security systems, the dumb ones are just groundsmen or maintenance lackeys.”
“Obviously the brightest ones take after you,” Lois said, managing to keep most of the sarcasm from her tone.
“Or not,” said a deep voice from the doorway.
Lois jumped, although she had been listening for his arrival since first positioning herself against the palm tree.
Mr Smith looked flabbergasted. “S... S... S...”
“Superman,” Clark supplied helpfully.
Mr Smith managed to gulp, before his lower jaw plummeted again.
“Perhaps you didn’t read the Daily Planet carefully enough,” Lois said.
“Uh?”
“Lois Lane and Clark Kent,” she said. “The hottest team in town – a reputation partially built on hundreds of Superman stories – many of them exclusives.”
“S ...”
“So you see, Mr Smith,” Lois said. “My husband wasn’t busy sampling the young ladies on the pool deck, he was busy giving Superman all the details of your carefully hidden collection.”
“And Superman was busy informing the Metropolis Police Department,” Clark said.
Mr Smith looked around frantically and then lurched for a possible escape, but Superman was faster. Within less than a breath, the security officer was tied to his own work bench with a length of his own white cable.
The door swung open and three local policemen stormed into the room, guns poised. They summed up the situation, relaxed their stance and turned to Clark. “Thanks, Superman.”
Clark nodded to Lois. “Nice working with you again, Ms Lane,” he said. “We’ve missed you on the beat.” Then with a blur of red and blue, he disappeared, leaving the door to swing slowly in his wake.
“Well, I have a story to write,” Lois said airily. “And a vacation to continue.”
Three steps out of the door, she met Clark, dressed again in his shorts and t-shirt. “Lois,” he chided. “I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to do anything dangerous.”
She smiled in welcome as she put her hand on his chest. “No, Clark, you agreed that I wasn’t going to do anything dangerous.”
“Lo-is.”
She smiled at his grave expression. “I knew you would rescue me.”
He came closer and lowered his voice. “I was in Metropolis and you were on the end of a gun in Anguilla.”
“I also knew I could keep him talking long enough for you to get to me,” Lois said. “So I really wasn’t in any danger at all.” She reached up, enfolded his neck with her arms and settled into her place on his chest. She felt his arms surround her. “I suppose we have to write the story first,” she said regretfully.
“Hotel management has offered us the use of their computers to show their gratitude for our help. And they have upgraded our room as an apology for the bug in our current room.”
“Another room?” Lois said. “An upgraded room?”
“It’s hard to imagine how you could get better than what we already have,” Clark said. “Minus the listening device of course.”
“Does it have a couch?” Lois asked.
She felt Clark chuckle. “I didn’t ask. I wasn’t particularly keen to announce publicly that I would be sleeping on it.”
Lois kissed him quickly. “Let’s get the story written, partner,” she said. “The couch awaits you.”
||_||
When the story had been sent to Ian and Perry, Lois and Clark were taken to a new room. This one was bigger, grander and included a small section of private beach. Once they were alone, Lois turned to Clark. “Anything here requiring your attention?” she asked. “Bugs? Hidden cameras?”
“Nothing requiring my attention,” he said. Clark put his hands on her waist. “Except you, my beautiful wife.”
She smiled.
“I offer several options for your consideration,” he said.
“You do?”
“We could dress up and go out on a date. We could eat in the restaurant here, or anywhere else in the world that you choose.”
“Sounds nice,” Lois said. “What are my other options?”
“We could stroll along our own beach.”
“Uhmmm. Nice.”
“We could swim. Also at our own beach.”
“Uhmmm.”
“We could go to the pool.”
Lois shook her head. “Too public.”
He grinned. “I was going to suggest we could go to the Night Club and dance, but that would be public as well.”
She nodded her agreement. “Any other suggestions?”
“We could go to bed – me to the couch and you to that very big bed.”
“I assume all these options lead to the same eventual outcome?”
Clark winked at her. “A man can hope.”
Lois pretended to consider. “I think all the options sound wonderful – so wonderful I can’t decide which one I’d like.”
“So ...?”
“So I think I will simply kiss you.” Her mouth took possession of his. “ ... and kiss you.” Her hands on his neck pulled him closer. “... and kiss you until you are incapable of thinking about anything except what I am doing to you.”
He swallowed. “That would be -.”
Clark’s responding kisses ignited her simmering need. Lois opened her mouth, inviting him deeper. Her world became all about him.
Then, Clark picked up his wife and took her to the very big bed.
||_||
Clark Kent stared at the star-spotted black-blue sky.
How could he have imagined he could live without Lois?
His body hummed with sated heaviness. His mind was deliciously dulled. His heart was full. His soul felt like it had melded again with its one true mate.
He loved Lois so much.
They had made love on the bed ... and then on the couch ... and then moved outside to their beach to make love under the array of stars, surrounded by the scent of the ocean and the rhythm of the waves.
Clark sighed with contentment. He had everything he needed – right here, tucked under his arm.
He loved Lois so much.
He loved the weight of her head on his chest. He loved the silkiness of her hair on his skin. He loved the touch of her fingers as they skimmed the base of his throat. She shifted a little and he felt something else. Clark jolted and touched the spot on his chest next to where she lay. He felt the moisture.
He had made her cry again.
Lois rolled more fully onto his chest, lifted her head and looked down at him. “My tears have absolutely nothing to do with not being able to have a baby.”
“Then what?” he asked. “What made you cry?”
“Mostly, you,” she said. She put her finger on his mouth to curtail his question. “Your amazing love makes me cry – tears of absolute happiness.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, still concerned.
“I’m sure.” She glanced away. “You saw that I had been crying the last time, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes were back, diving deep into his. “And was that when you began to think about freeing me so I could have a child with someone else?”
“Lois,” he said desperately. “I can’t do anything that is going to make you cry. I just ... I just *can’t*.”
“It wasn’t you that time.”
“Then who was it?”
“Me.”
“You?”
Lois smoothed back his hair. “Clark, I didn’t want to tell you this, because it will hurt you, but it won’t hurt you as much as what you are currently thinking, so I’m going to tell you.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her explanation. And with Lois here, loving him, kissing him ... he felt invulnerable to pain. “Tell me,” he said.
“Last time we made love I caught myself thinking about a story. I was so shocked that I had let things slide that far. So ashamed that I had become so engrossed in the Planet, I couldn’t shut it out while we made love. After we’d finished, I cried, although I tried to hide it from you because I didn’t want you to know.”
Clark didn’t say anything.
“It was then that I realised how little I had given to this marriage in a long, long time.”
“You have a stressful, demanding job.”
“I have a wonderful husband.”
He caressed her hair.
“I’m so sorry, Clark.”
“It’s OK, honey,” he soothed. “It’s OK.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry too, Lois,” he said. “I’m sorry I made decisions about our future without talking to you.”
She scrambled higher up his chest and looked down into his face. Her smile banished his hurts, his insecurities, his doubts. “I love you, Clark,” she whispered. “I will always love you.”
“*Never* leave me,” he begged. “Even if I do something unbelievably stupid and ask you to, please, never leave me.”
“I won’t,” she promised. She nestled into his neck and he caught another whiff of her scent.
“You smell wonderful,” Clark said appreciatively.
Lois lifted her head and smiled at him again. “Treasure Chest,” she said.
“Ahh,” he said, recognising the name. “It smells even better on you than it did in the store.”
“I love the name,” she said.
“You do?”
She wriggled down his body, crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them. “It’s very apt.”
Clark wasn’t really up to thinking deeply about anything. “It is?” he said.
“Well,” she said, as her fingers lightly stroked across the valley running between his pecs. “A treasure chest is a thing of beauty that holds something of even greater worth.”
This was definitely beyond Clark’s current capacity for comprehension, so he merely waited for her to continue.
“This is my treasure chest,” she said, as her hand skimmed across his skin. “A thing of beauty that holds your heart.” She kissed him, just above where his heart was wildly reacting to her words and her presence and the low, sexy timbre of her voice.
Then her mouth came down feverishly on his and everything else was driven from Clark’s mind.
||_||
On Friday afternoon, they flew back to Metropolis. Clark lay on the bed watching as Lois unpacked her suitcase. She looked up from her task and smiled. “Aren’t you going to help?” she asked.
“No,” he replied. “I’m going to watch you.”
“And I suppose you can always cheat and get your unpacking done in less than a second?”
“I could get yours done too,” he offered. “And then there’d be time for other things.”
She grinned. “And what might those other things be?”
“Bonding?” he suggested.
Lois chuckled. “I thought we *bonded* on Anguilla.”
“Oh, we did. Repeatedly. But you can never have too much bonding. Not when your wife is Lois Lane.” He kicked the half-full suitcase off the bed. “Come here,” he said, patting the space next to him.
She lay next to him, rested her lower leg across his knee and took his hand in hers.
“Lois,” Clark said. “I fell so incredibly good right now. I feel like I’m about fifteen years old. I had the most amazing time with you on Anguilla. I love it when you’re relaxed. I love it when you smile and laugh. I realise that much as I love working with you, I love playing with you even more. I love it when you tease me. I love how your eyes sparkle when you’re having fun.”
She smoothed her hand down his face. “I need you to help me, Clark. If I ever again get too caught up in work, or anything else, you need to drag me away – physically, if I don’t have the good sense to respond to a polite suggestion.”
He smiled. “And if you object to being dragged?”
“I want you to dress up in blue tights and don a big red cape and fly in, pick me up and take me away.”
“And if you yell at me?”
“Kiss me. That’ll shut me up.”
He laughed. “I should have recorded that.”
Lois smiled, though her eyes were solemn. “I’m serious, Clark. I might need you to pull me back sometimes. Don’t ever let me get as far away as I got this time. Promise me?”
“I promise.”
“Thanks.” She rose onto her elbow to glance at the clock. “We should get ready to go to the hall.”
“Are you sure about coming?” Clark said. “You don’t have to. *I* don’t have to. We can both stay here if you’re tired.”
“No,” Lois said. “I want to see Vivienne and thank her for her notes on the story and I want to see how Maddie’s mom is and I’ve been promised that if I come, I’ll see a big game of basketball.”
“Hardly a *big* game,” Clark said. “It’s just a tradition that on Friday nights Brad Tucker’s boys go up against my boys in four-a-side basketball.”
“Four a side?” Lois asked.
Clark looked away. “Uhmm.”
She gently poked his chest and he saw her wide grin. “You didn’t tell me you were *playing*,” she accused. “You made it sound like you were coaching.”
“I *am* coaching,” Clark said. “And playing.”
“Then I am definitely coming,” she said. “Are you going to wear that sleeveless jersey I found in your drawer?”
He winced. “You saw that?”
“Yeah, Mr Purr-fect, I saw that.”
“Why do you want to know whether I’ll be wearing it? Other than that green is *not* my colour.”
Lois ran her fingers down his shoulder and along his upper arm. “The colour is irrelevant to my plan of indulging in a little appreciative ogling.”
He tried to contain his amusement. “If you come, you’re supposed to set an example for the kids, you know.”
Lois grinned. “A woman who is infatuated with her husband. Sounds like a fine example to me.”
He grinned and rose from the bed. With a whir he finished all the unpacking and then offered her his hand. “Let’s go, Mrs Kent.”
||_||
Lois sat between Maddie and Vivienne at the side of the court watching the game between Clark and his boys – Boston, Todd and Beau – and Brad’s boys. They were evenly matched and the game was tight.
“I’m so pleased your mom is recovering well,” Lois said to Maddie.
“I go and see her every day after school.”
“The family you’re staying with – are they nice?”
“Yes,” Maddie said. “But I’m glad I didn’t have to go to strangers that first night. Thanks for letting me stay with you.”
Lois smiled at her and their attention swung back to the game. “Our boys are playing well,” Lois said.
“Yeah,” Vivienne said. “Even Boston has managed to hit a few shots.”
“You sound like that’s unexpected.”
“Todd and Beau always play well,” Vivienne said. “Clark does a lot of running and he shoots pretty decently, but mostly he looks as if he’s not giving it absolutely everything.”
“He has to coach as well,” Maddie defended.
“And he *is* old,” Vivienne said. “I suppose that makes it hard to keep up.”
Lois chopped off her smile. “And Boston?”
Vivienne snorted. “Boston just looks uncomfortable out there.”
“Maybe you should cut him a break.”
Vivienne turned on Lois, her face full of horror. “You’re saying I should go out with Boston?”
“No. I’m saying you could treat him like he’s a friend.”
“He doesn’t want to be my friend.”
“What does he want?”
“He wants to be my boyfriend,” Vivienne said wearily.
“Has he said so?”
“No. But I can tell.”
“And you don’t want that?”
“No! I don’t want any guy hanging off me.”
“Tell him that clearly and then try to be nice to him.”
“Friends?” Vivienne blurted with exaggerated dismay. “Why?”
“Because everyone needs friends.”
“Why Boston in particular?”
“Because it’s not easy being able to see all the problems in the world and wondering how best you can make a difference.”
“You make him sound like Clark.”
Lois smiled sideways at her. “I was thinking that too.”
“Were you Clark’s friend?” Maddie asked. “When you first met him?”
“At first, not really. I had always worked alone. I didn’t want anyone hanging off me.”
Vivienne laughed. “Did you tell him that?”
“Yep.”
“Was he willing to just be friends? He didn’t fall for you?”
“He was willing to be friends, but it wasn’t what he wanted.”
“Do you regret it?” Vivienne asked. “Do you wish you’d stayed as friends? Or just colleagues? Or got him out of your life altogether?”
“Not for one moment.”
Vivienne looked at Lois, a question in her eyes. “Truthfully?”
“Absolute truth,” Lois declared. “My life couldn’t be as good without Clark. But that doesn’t mean you have to be with Boston.”
“Boston’s ... all right,” Vivienne conceded. “It’s just that I am philosophically opposed to being dependent on a man.”
“Do you think Boston would ever force you to do something you don’t want to do?”
“Never. He just isn’t like that.”
“Then cut him a break.”
At that moment Clark passed to Boston, who hesitated, then desperately threw the ball towards the ring. It bounced off the backboard, rolled around the ring and fell through it.
“Good shot, Boston,” Lois called out. She nudged Vivienne. “Go on.”
Vivienne scowled at her, but then said. “Good shot ... Boston.”
“See,” Lois said. “It doesn’t hurt to be nice.”
Vivienne turned on her, face serious, but eyes glinting with amusement. “If Boston takes that as encouragement, I’m going to send him to you.”
“OK,” Lois agreed easily.
They laughed together.
||_||
Clark had managed to ram the key into the keyhole, unlock the door and get both himself and Lois into the house – all without breaking the kiss that had begun seconds after he had opened her car door.
He bent low and swept her into his arms. As they reached the stairs, the phone sounded loud through the house.
“Ahhhh,” Lois said.
“Shall we leave it?” Clark said, only backing away just enough to speak.
“I suppose we should see who it is,” she said.
They sidestepped towards the still-ringing phone. Clark hauled his mouth from Lois’s and put her down. “It’s my folks,” he said raggedly. He took two settling breaths and picked up the phone. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Clark.” His Mom hesitated. “How was your vacation?”
“It was perfect,” Clark said.
“Is everything ... OK?”
Clark smiled at Lois, noticing that her lips still shone from their kisses. “Everything is better than OK, Mom.”
“Lois is there now?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to ...?”
“I couldn’t, Mom.” Clark put his arm around Lois’s shoulder and squeezed her close to him. “I’ll never be able to do that.”
He heard his mother sigh – probably with relief.
“How was your vacation?” Clark asked. “Where did you go?”
“It was good.” But he sensed hesitation in her tone.
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Nothing ... just ... are you and Lois busy tomorrow?” Now her words spurted forth. “Could you both come and see us? Tomorrow? Or Sunday maybe?”
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Your father and I need to talk to you – both of you.”
Clark could feel his anxiety rise from its dormancy. He’d never been totally satisfied with their vacation story. “Mom, we’re coming now.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “No, I don’t want you to come now.”
“Mom, if it’s something bad, we should come now.”
“Clark!” She actually snapped at him. “Would you please stop asking questions and believe me when I say there is nothing to worry about?”
“OK,” he agreed, taken aback by her tone.
“And you’ll bring Lois to Smallville tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
With that she hung up.
Clark slowly replaced the phone, as apprehension twisted through his stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Lois asked.
“Mom says there is nothing to worry about, but she wants to see both of us tomorrow.”
“You’re worried?”
He tried to smile, but knew it wasn’t very convincing. “A little.”
Lois took him into her arms and held him. “If your mom says it’s nothing to worry about, maybe you should try to believe her – at least until tomorrow when we’ll know.”
Clark nodded.
Lois took his face in her hands and kissed him. “We can’t do anything about it tonight,” she said. “So why don’t you take me to bed?”
He smiled and pushed away his concerns. “Good idea,” he said, as he picked her up and carried her up the stairs.
