Smallville: 4/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
Jack gave a wry grin. "Yeah," he said. "Come on, Denny. Let's go. 'Night, everybody." He turned and began to ascend the stairs.
"Wow," Clark said, after the bedroom door had closed behind the two boys. "What did you do to them?"
"Nothing much," Jonathan said, off-handedly. "It's like I always say, first you gotta get the critter's attention."
"Well, I'd say you and Mom sure got theirs," Clark said, impressed.
**********
And now, Part 4:
Morning on the Kent farm started before sunrise, but only the crowing of the rooster disturbed Lois's rest, and she turned over, not even fully awake, and pulled the pillow over her head.
It was several hours later that the ringing of the telephone downstairs penetrated her sleep and she opened her eyes and sat up, not sure for a moment where she was. Then memory came back. She was on the Kents' Kansas farm, and it was Christmas Eve.
A glance at her little traveling alarm clock informed her that it was nine in the morning, which meant that the members of the Kent family and the two boys had been up for hours.
She slid out of bed, groping with her toes for the fuzzy slippers that she had set on the small rug beside the bed last night, and slid her feet into them. Her robe lay across the foot of the bed and she slipped into it, shivering slightly. The room was cool, and on the windowpane she could see a coating of frost. A look out the window confirmed her first impression. Snowy fields stretched away from the house, as far as the eye could see. Some distance away she could see the black blotch that was probably another farmhouse, and a trail of white smoke spiraled upward into the sky. It looked just like one of those pictures on a post card, she thought. Clark had said that they were supposed to get snow tonight, but from here there was no sign or it. The patch of sky that she could see from the window was a clear, piercing blue without a cloud in sight.
Well, she had better get downstairs before Martha decided that it was time to serve lunch. Lois opened her suitcase and picked out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, long stockings and a pair of jogging shoes. She might wear heels tonight to the Christmas Eve dance, but for hanging around the house, flat shoes were certainly a lot more practical and comfortable.
Armed with her day wear, she descended to the second floor of the house and located the bathroom. A quick shower sounded good this morning and then maybe some of the coffee that she could smell drifting upward from the kitchen.
It was probably fifteen minutes later that she entered the kitchen. Martha Kent was removing a pie from the oven as she did so, and Lois sniffed the scent of pumpkin pie with relish.
"Oh, hi Lois," Martha said. "Did you get enough sleep? Clark said he thought you needed it, so we were careful not to make a lot of noise."
"I don't think I moved most of the night," Lois said. "I seem to remember a rooster crowing, but it didn't bother me."
"That would be Big Red," Martha said. "He's the alarm clock around here for Jonathan and me. Would you like some breakfast?"
"I usually have coffee and a piece of toast," Lois said.
"You'll need more than that for today," Martha said firmly. "We're going to be moving around for most of it. I'm just finishing the pies for the dinner this evening, before the dance. Wayne Irig called a few minutes ago. He'd like Clark to pick up the dishes Nettie made for it. Nettie thinks she's coming down with something and may not be able to make the festivities this evening, so he wants to be sure they get there. Clark's going to take the truck over in about half an hour, as soon as he and the boys finish the morning chores."
As she spoke, she competently deposited silverware, a glass and a coffee cup in front of Lois, poured orange juice and set a plate loaded with a scrambled egg, two slices of bacon and two pancakes in front of her. "Coffee?"
"Uh --" Lois stared at a breakfast five times the size of the one she normally ate, and wondered why Martha Kent wasn't fat. On the other hand, it explained Jonathan Kent's figure. Still, it certainly smelled good, and perhaps it was the country air, but she suddenly realized that she was hungry. "I'm not sure I can eat all that, but I'll give it a shot."
"Just eat as much as you want, honey. Anything left over goes to feed the hogs. We don't waste anything around here."
The thought of that delicious-smelling breakfast being fed to pigs decided her. Lois sat down and reached for the coffeepot. "I hope you're right about burning all this off today."
Clark's mother nodded briskly. "Count on it." She set the pie on the counter to cool, and looked past Lois. "How are things going out there, Clark?"
"The boys are almost done," Clark reported, sliding into one of the kitchen chairs. "Dad finished fixing the tractor, with a little help from me. I figured I'd head over to Wayne's and pick up their stuff for the party tonight."
"If you'll wait a few minutes, until I finish eating," Lois said, "I'll come along and help you."
"Wayne thinks Nettie might be coming down with the flu," Clark said. "I don't want you to get sick."
"I had a flu shot," Lois said briskly. "I'll be fine."
"Well -- okay, then." Clark flashed his brilliant grin at her. "I can show off my gorgeous girlfriend to Wayne."
"Just be sure he knows that we're not spreading it around just yet," Lois said. "Not until Luthor is under arrest."
"Don't worry," Clark said. "Wayne barely strings two words together most of the time. He's not exactly what you'd call talkative."
**********
The battered Kent pickup truck rolled and bounced down the rutted track that led to the Irig farm.
Wayne Irig, the Kents' closest neighbor, was, Clark told Lois, the third or fourth member of his family to inhabit the old farm. He had taken it over after his brother, Mervyn Irig, had been killed in a traffic accident in Topeka, just after Clark had come to live with Martha and Jonathan. Mervyn had never been much of a farmer, according to Jonathan Kent. He'd inherited the farm from their father, but had apparently been intending to sell the property before his untimely demise. Wayne, on the other hand, loved the land and, at twenty-nine, had assumed ownership of the farm and turned it into a flourishing concern in the space of less than two years. As long as he could remember, Wayne Irig and his wife, Nettie, had worked the farm, and, he added, Nettie had made the most delicious caramel apples that he had ever tasted each Halloween.
"Maybe we should come back here next Halloween," Lois remarked. "I love caramel apples."
"Sounds like a good idea," Clark agreed. "I go by every October thirty-first to sample them for her and give her a thumbs-up. It's kind of a tradition."
Lois giggled. "Why am I not surprised? Did you ever ask for the recipe?"
"No," Clark admitted. "It didn't seem right. If she wanted other people to have it, wouldn't she have offered?"
"Not necessarily. She might not know that you wanted it," Lois pointed out. "Why don't you drop a hint that you'd like to have it?"
"Well...maybe," he said doubtfully. Lois made a mental note to ask Mrs. Irig for the recipe, herself, perhaps after she had tasted the product in question. Charlie was too polite for his own good.
Clark pulled the pickup into the gravel-covered expanse that evidently served as a driveway, cut the engine and set the parking brake. "Here we are." He opened his door and stepped out, glancing around. A small flock of chickens was wandering around the open area, pecking at the ground. Lois stepped down and backed up cautiously as a small, brown hen fluttered back from her feet with a startled cluck. At least she thought it was a hen, since it didn't have the bright head decoration that she had noticed on the Kent family's rooster that had been perched on the fence as they drove away from the farm.
"Don't they get cold?" she asked curiously. Small chunks of ice were scattered among the gravel, and the surface under her feet had a slushy feel to it. It couldn't be much above freezing, if at all.
"I don't think so," Clark said. "They fluff their feathers out and the air trapped under the feathers is warm, and insulates them from the cold. Haven't you ever noticed how fluffy the sparrows in Metropolis look, at Pepe's Burger Hutch, when it's cold?"
Now that he mentioned it, she had noticed that the sparrows hopping around the open area, picking up scraps of dropped food, had looked pretty fat. "I never thought about it," she said. "I just thought they were well-fed."
Clark grinned. "Well, that too," he admitted. "But part of it is how they keep warm."
"Oh." Lois stepped gingerly through the muddy gravel and followed Clark toward the broad front porch. A porch swing, piled with pillows and with a folded blanket draped across its back, adorned this porch, the same as at the Kent residence. She had just stepped onto the porch when the door squeaked open and the weathered, wrinkled face of a man peered out.
"Hello, Clark." The door opened wider. "Come on in before all the heat gets out."
Clark let Lois enter before him and followed her into the old farmhouse. Wayne Irig -- at least Lois assumed that this must be him -- closed the door behind them and turned to face his visitors.
"This is Lois Lane," Clark said. "Lois, Wayne Irig."
Lois held out a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Irig."
The farmer shook her hand briefly. "Likewise. Ain't I seen your name in the paper?"
"Lois is an investigative reporter for the Daily Planet," Clark said.
"Yeah: I remember now. You two wrote that stuff about that buncha crooked government agents," Irig said.
"That's right," Clark said. "Lois and I work together."
"Yeah. Jonathan said somethin' about that," Irig said. "Said he'd never seen two people get hip-deep in so much trouble so fast." He smiled briefly.
Looked doubtfully at Clark, but he was nodding, a faint smile on his lips. "Pretty much," he agreed. "It worked out all right, though. Mom sent us over to pick up the stuff Nettie made for the Christmas Eve dinner tonight. How is she?"
"Sneezin' her head off," Irig said. "That's why she ain't here. Said she didn't want to give her germs to visitors. The food's in the kitchen, all boxed up and ready to go. This way."
He led the way into a large country kitchen. On the stove a kettle was steaming slightly, and a kitchen table, covered with a checked tablecloth, held a large cardboard box. Irig waved at it. "You can put it in the pickup," he added. "Nettie said to tell 'em to warm it up and it'll be fine."
"I'll tell Mom," Clark said. He went to pick up the box. "I'll just put it in the truck and we'll get out of your way."
Irig gave a one-sided smile. "Don't expect I'll make the dance," he said.
"You be sure to tell Mom or Dad if you need anything," Clark directed, pushing the swinging door open with one elbow.
"Don't expect we will, but I'll keep it in mind." The farmer held the door for Lois and followed her back into the living room.
Clark glanced at the trio of logs next to the fireplace. "Can I bring in more wood for you before we go? That stack looks like it's getting low."
"Naw. I got a big pile next to the back door, and a bunch more dryin' out in the woodshed. My oak tree came down in the blizzard 'bout a week or so ago and I chopped it up for firewood."
"Not the one Pete and I used to climb when we were kids?"
"Fraid so." Irig frowned, and Lois thought he was about to speak again, but he glanced at her and closed his lips firmly. "Tell your dad I'll be over to see him tomorra," he added. "I'll get that." He went to the front door and held it for Clark.
"Thanks," Clark said. "Tell Nettie I hope she feels better soon."
"I'll do that." Irig continued to hold the door for Lois and she followed Clark out. She smiled at him, but the farmer was watching Clark as he maneuvered down the trio of steps from the old-fashioned front porch. "Watch your step."
"I am." Clark sure-footedly crossed the span of muddy gravel and settled the box into the bed of the pickup. Lois followed him, keeping her thoughts to herself. That had to be, she thought, the oddest ordinary conversation she had ever heard. The undercurrents in the room had been so heavy that she could almost see them. It was clear that Wayne Irig wanted to speak to Clark but hadn't done so because of her presence. For all Wayne Irig's slow Kansas drawl and Clark's cheerful conversation, there was something unspoken in the air that alerted all her senses.
A few moments later, they were in the Kent pickup and Clark waved cheerfully to Wayne Irig before he backed, turned the pickup around, and headed back down the driveway toward the highway.
"What was going on back there?" Lois asked.
Clark shrugged. "Wayne wanted to tell me something, but he apparently didn't want to do it in front of you," he said. "Something's up, all right."
"What are you going to do?" Lois asked.
"I'll come back later," Clark said. "Don't worry. I'll let him know that you're my fiancee, and that he can trust you."
"I didn't mean that," Lois said. "What do you suppose he wants to tell you?"
Clark shrugged. "Don't know. I'll find out. Then if I can convince him, maybe I can get him to talk to you, too."
"Just make sure he keeps it quiet," Lois said. "If Lex manages to find out, our investigation will be over."
"I'll tell him," Clark agreed.
"What do you suppose Lex did once his guy reported that I'd disappeared?" Lois said. "I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. Less, even."
"Good question. He'll probably assume you flew under another name."
"Probably," Lois said after a moment's consideration. "I hope he doesn't figure out what really happened."
"Me too. Superman flew back last night after you went to bed and made sure he was seen in several places in Metropolis," Clark said. "He stopped a couple of muggings, and even made a point of flying slowly by Luthor's penthouse. Several people there noticed him. Luthor was in his study -- and that assistant of his was with him. Mrs. Cox, I think her name is."
"That was probably a good idea," Lois said. "It wouldn't do for Clark and Superman to both be out of Metropolis at the same time. At least not when people might notice."
"Like at Christmas," Clark agreed. "Besides, I want Luthor to know that Superman is watching his activities. I figured it wouldn't hurt to make him a little nervous. It might help keep his mind off other things."
"Good thinking," Lois said. She hesitated. "What if Lex checks up on my mother? I'm sure he has the resources to find her without any trouble. He'll find out I'm not at her place. All that cloak and dagger stuff back in Metropolis is making me paranoid, I guess."
"You think he'd do that?" Clark seemed to realize as he said it that the answer to his question was obvious. "Sure he would. And even if he doesn't, we'd be stupid not to cover the possibility. Mom always says a little paranoia is a healthy thing."
"How?" Lois asked.
"We'll think of something. At least he isn't likely to look for you in Smallville."
**********
By the time they arrived back at the Kent farmhouse, Martha, Jonathan and the two boys had finished the morning chores and were getting ready to head for town. Lois ran upstairs to change into something more appropriate to wear for the town's Christmas Eve party and Clark also went to exchange his jeans and sweater for something more festive.
While she was pulling on a pair of snow boots, Lois pondered the unpleasant possibility that Lex might already be aware that she wasn't at her mother's place. They had to think of a way to cover that, even if only to allow her to continue to associate with the man until Henderson had enough evidence to arrest him. Clark's assumption that he wouldn't be looking for her in Smallville hadn't reassured Lois at all. Lex Luthor had seemed to be watching the two of them, as if to assure himself that her relationship with her new partner was strictly business. Although it might seem silly to fear that he would decide to check up on Clark's home town, if she didn't appear at her mother's apartment for Christmas, who was to say that the man wouldn't do just that? From some of the things Clark had read in Lex's diary, he had been willing to go to great lengths to achieve his ends. Why should she assume that he wouldn't do so when it came to his pursuit of her? Lex Luthor was a very wealthy and very ruthless man, and his resources were vast. Taking some kind of precaution might be a little excessive, but better that than getting caught, she thought. She picked up her high-heeled shoes that she intended to wear later and gave herself a last check in the mirror, draped her jacket over her arm and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Clark was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. "You look like you're headed for a party," he observed. "Want to go to a dance?"
"Is everybody ready?" she asked.
"I think Dad's still showering," Clark said. "He'll be ready in a bit."
"I think maybe I should send an email to Perry," Lois said.
Clark's eyebrows went up at the sudden change of subject. "Why?"
"To tell him I'm following a lead and won't be going to my mother's until tomorrow," Lois said.
"Oh. You're still thinking about Luthor," Clark said.
She nodded. "I don't trust Lex," she said. "Do you think I'm overdoing it?"
Clark frowned a little and then shook his head. "No, I don't. The guy didn't get where he is by being careless. We should have thought of it last night, but I guess we can still cover our trail. But I don't think an email is a good idea."
"Then what is?"
Clark glanced around, as if to assure himself that there was no one close enough to overhear him. "Let's take a walk out by the barn," he said in a low voice.
**********
tbc
