Chapter One
Lois opened her eyes and smiled. She shifted in the rickety bed and giggled as it creaked beneath her. If not for Clark’s powers, they might have broken it the night before.
She lifted her head and looked around for her husband, then spotted him sitting on the porch of the beach house, wearing his baggy swim trunks and gazing out at the gentle surf. She rolled over and stood up, intending to attack him there in her natural state of undress – which he’d certainly appreciated the night before – but nature demanded attention to certain tasks, so she surrendered to the inevitable and padded to the tiny bathroom.
As she walked back into the bedroom, a tray of fresh fruit and hot pastry appeared before her. “From the town?” she asked.
He took a long moment to appreciate her undraped body, then sighed and nodded. “Fresh from the tree, vine, or oven, as the case may be.”
She took the tray and wiggled slowly toward the bed without looking back at him. She heard his breath catch as she sat on the ragged comforter with the tray on her lap, one leg folded under her, almost facing him but still not looking at him. “My, my, what would Perry say if he saw us right now, enjoying the pleasures of southern France instead of camping in the Adirondacks where we told him we were going?”
“Uh – Perry – what?”
“Would he fuss at us for ‘imposing’ on Superman or just wink and tell us that he isn’t editor-in-chief because he can yodel?”
He let out a long, slow breath and muttered, “Hah?”
She smiled at him. “I said, isn’t this better than the woods in northern New Troy?”
He didn’t answer right away. She suppressed a giggle by biting into a fresh pear and allowing the juice to flow down her chin onto her bare chest. His eyes got even wider and his jaw slackened.
Teasing Clark was almost as much fun as making love to Clark.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head as if coming out of a trance. “Lois, if you don’t stop that, we’ll never get to our morning swim.”
She put the pear back on the tray and set the tray down on the floor beside the bed. She sat up, slowly pulled her hair back with both hands, and said, “Morning swims are overrated, don’t you think?”
Judging by the level of enthusiasm he showed in joining her on the bed – and the fact that he was beside her before his trunks hit the floor – he must have agreed.
*****
She lay in his arms and listened to the rhythm of his heart as he slept. It sounded different from the other hearts she’d listened to, way back when her father was pushing her to follow him into medicine. It was somehow more powerful, more confident, more intense than any other she’d ever heard. It was as if his heart contained all his heroic qualities and could barely restrain them, even in slumber.
She smiled. They’d managed an entire week away from the paper for their fifth anniversary, and when Clark had suggested spending it together on a private Mediterranean beach in southern France, she’d all but jumped for joy. They’d agreed to give each other their presents upon returning home, and it gave her time to find the carved wooden Eskimo totem she’d decided to get for him. It would fit well with the rest of his collection of exotic tribal art.
That took care of the traditional fifth anniversary gift, something of wood. He’d gotten her input on his gift of silverware, the more modern fifth-year gift. She loved both the pattern and the number of servings. It was large enough to entertain guests without taking up huge amounts of drawer space in the kitchen.
She listened to the tiny gurgling sounds coming from her own torso and smiled again. Daddy would have told her that everyone made those sounds at some time and they meant little.
But the thought of her father led to the memory of the most recent phone call from her mother. She and Daddy had split up again, and somehow this time it felt final. Daddy had gone off to New Guinea to research some new species of plant which might be useful in treating Alzheimer’s and other causes of dementia in older people. Mother wasn’t drinking at all, which oddly contributed to Lois’ depression, because none of them could blame this split on Ellen’s alcoholism. She’d gone back to teaching at the New Troy Medical College.
And Lucy’s last letter had revealed that she and Brad were getting a divorce. Lucy claimed that Brad was cheating on her. Lucy had written that Brad claimed that Lucy didn’t trust him and accused him of infidelity every chance she got and with no provocation or justification. Lois didn’t know who was telling the truth or if the truth was somewhere in the middle, but the upshot was that Lucy was about to be divorced for the second time.
At least this time Lucy she had a profession to fall back on. Even if accounting wasn’t a very sexy profession, at least it paid regularly. And she was guaranteed extra work every spring when tax time came around, even if she was alone at night.
It appeared that Lois was the only one of the Lane family to have a solid relationship with a spouse.
To get her thoughts to a better place, she wondered what Clark might get her for her birthday. She was –
She suddenly realized that her next birthday would be her thirty-fifth.
Thirty-five! It didn’t seem real. She couldn’t be that old! Not yet!
A fragment of memory floated to the surface of her mind, from about the time she’d first met Clark. Lucy had informed her that she didn’t have dates, she had interviews, and that she wasn’t getting any younger. Lois had insisted that she was still young, and Lucy had responded with, “Twenty-six today, thirty-six tomorrow!”
That sobering tomorrow wasn’t all that far off now. Where had the years gone?
She shifted and pulled her arm from under Clark’s head. He murmured something unintelligible and shifted to lay flat on his back, but he didn’t wake up.
Lois looked at her husband, admiring the flat tautness of his abdomen, the bulge of his chest, the smooth and supple lines of his arms, the long muscular legs – he was a beautiful man. Even his feet were just about perfect. The only mark on him that shouldn’t have been there was a small scar on the front of his right shoulder where a desperate criminal had stabbed him with a green Kryptonite shard a year before. Unlike other similar injuries, this one didn’t quite heal completely. Dr. Klein insisted that there was nothing left of the shard, that Superman didn’t carry the seeds of his own destruction under his skin, but that didn’t erase the scar.
And he’d been stabbed because he’d had to rescue her. Again.
Suddenly she had to get out of the house. She had to go somewhere, do something, anything, and she had to be alone to do it. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, and she couldn’t risk waking him by getting dressed. So she crept to the open door, cat-footed onto the patio, grabbed the beach towel Clark had left there when she’d enticed him inside earlier, and raced to the edge of the water.
*****
The warm sea water relaxed her and opened her mind. As she floated a few yards offshore, she reflected on how wonderful her life was, and she considered what her life might be like if Clark weren’t in it.
Who was she kidding? If not for Clark – and Superman – she’d be dead a dozen times over by now. If Clark hadn’t come to the Daily Planet when he had, she wouldn’t be here. There wouldn’t be any shared Kerths, the Merriwether they’d won as a team wouldn’t be sitting in their trophy case, and she wouldn’t have been nominated for two Pulitzers. She literally could not have lived without him.
What about Clark? Could he live without her?
The cold, hard answer was – yes, he could.
He probably would still have become an excellent reporter without her prodding and teaching him. He might even have published several books by now, not just the one which was a compilation of his solo articles. As Superman, he could save more people and protect more property all over the world if he weren’t spending so much time with her. She couldn’t think of anything material that she contributed to Clark Kent or to Superman.
All things considered, it might have been better if they hadn’t fallen in love and gotten married.
She shook her head and dove to the bottom, looking around at the small creatures whose world she was invading. The smart ones scattered immediately. A few remained until she swam too close, and before her air ran out she was by herself in that little patch of water.
She stopped and floated in place. She was alone in the sea, skinny dipping under water, and unless Clark just happened to look exactly where she was in that vast body of water, even he couldn’t see her. It was as if she were completely alone in the universe.
The prospect wasn’t as terrifying as she might have expected it to be.
Then her lungs demanded a refill. She kicked up to the surface and flipped her hair back as she popped up into the light. She inhaled deeply and slid back into the water, but the added air gave her a positive buoyancy and she drifted up again.
This time only her head broke the surface. She looked to the shore to locate her towel and saw Clark sitting on it. The other beach towel was wrapped around his waist. He waved and smiled. “Hey!” he called. “You should have nudged me. I love swimming with you.”
She grinned a little. “I’m about ready to come out now anyway. Want to bring me my towel?”
His smile turned mischievous. “No, I don’t. You come and get it.”
“What? Clark, I’m kind of naked here! Please bring me my towel.”
“I’m wearing your towel.”
She wiggled closer to shore until she felt the slope of the beach brush her feet. “Then bring me your towel.”
“Nope.”
“Come on! This is a little public, don’t you think?”
“You weren’t worried about that a couple of days ago.”
“Someone might see us!”
He made a show of looking both ways up and down the beach. “I don’t see anyone else around. And you know I’d see them if they were there.”
“Fine! Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She paddled in until she could stand upright without slipping, then slowly walked out of the low waves until she stood in front of him, dripping wet and erect in all her feminine glory. “May I have my towel now?”
His grin had slipped and his eyes were partly glazed over. “Uh – oh, yeah. Sure, no problem.”
He stood and bent down to pick up the towel from the sand, and as he handed it to her she reached out and snatched away the towel he’d been wearing. “Gotcha!” she called, then began running along the waterline trailing one towel in each hand in the air above her head.
As she suspected, Clark wasn’t wearing his swimsuit either. She took advantage of his shock to get a few strides away, but he caught her almost immediately. He picked her up in his arms, spun her around, and kissed her.
She returned the kiss and dropped the towels. As soon as they hit the sand, however, he turned and ran into the water. “Clark!” she cried, and then they were both underwater.
She slipped away with a twist and a wiggle. Her head broke the surface just before his did. “You rat! I was just about to dry off!”
“Are you treading water?” he asked.
She squealed a laugh and splashed him in the face. “Yes! How about you?”
He swam closer and wrapped his arms around her. “I am now.”
She kissed him deeply. “You sure there’s no one around?”
“Positive.”
She put her lips beside his ear and whispered, “Then let’s take advantage of those towels on the shore.”
*****
Their vacation time was up on Sunday, and this was late Friday afternoon in France. It was almost time to get back to reality. Lois lifted herself onto one elbow and smiled down at her husband, the sated satyr. “You know we have to go home soon, don’t you?”
He didn’t open his eyes. “Naw, let’s just stay here. We can e-mail travel stories from anywhere in the world.”
She giggled. “We’d just be sending in the same story over and over again. ‘The scenery is beautiful, the food is delicious, and the sex is great.’ The editors would be bored.”
He snorted and reached for her. “Yeah, but we wouldn’t.”
She popped him on the forehead with two knuckles. “Come on, Casanova, let’s get dressed and go into town for an early dinner. I’m hungry.”
He faked a pout. “It’s not my fault you didn’t eat breakfast.”
“Oh, really? Then who was that red-hot lover I moaned at all morning, the guy who kept me away from that tray?”
“Well, okay, if you put it that way, I confess. It was totally and completely my fault.”
She rolled to a sitting position with her arms wrapped around her knees. “Let’s go to town and get something to eat. I’m in the mood for some protein.”
He sat up beside her, put his hand on her far hip, and kissed her near shoulder. “Do you want to walk, get a cab, or float?”
She looked around and brushed her fingers through her hair. “Walk, I think. It’ll give me a chance to look around. Maybe we’ll see someone we know.”
“Not likely, hon. But I’m up for a walk with you. Are we talking shirt and pants or swimsuit and cover?”
She stood and wrapped her towel around her waist. “Shirts and pants and a wide-brimmed hat for me. I don’t need any more sun for a while. Unlike you, I can get burned, remember?”
He smiled. “Oh, the advantages of having a solar-powered metabolism.”
“Don’t remind me. Besides, I’d like to do a little shopping. We haven’t gotten any gifts for anyone yet, and we’re running out of time.”
“In that case, my lady love, I will shop with you until you drop.”
She poked him in the chest. “If I drop it, you’ll have to pay for it.”
*****
The walk to town was fun, the dinner was nice, the shopping was pleasing to both buyer and seller, and fortunately the walk back to their secluded cottage was slightly downhill. When they entered the bedroom again, Clark took her in his arms and held her close.
For a long moment, she savored his manly scent, the feel of his arms around her shoulders, and the pressure of his body against hers. Then she leaned back and said, “I’m a bit tired tonight, darling. I need to get some quality sleep or I’ll be out cold when we fly back tomorrow evening.”
He smiled and nodded. “I understand. I guess I’m just too much man for you.”
She laughed. “Oh, really? Who was the first one to ask for a rest on our first anniversary?”
His brows twisted in mock severity. “Me. But that was because I was already worn out from fighting a multi-state forest fire.”
She slapped him on the chest. “Excuses, excuses! Now, my loving husband, please let me get some sleep tonight. We can pack in the morning if you want to.”
He looked around the room. “There’s not that much to pack, Lois, just our swim gear and two changes of clothes. And it’s not like we have a plane to catch.”
She slipped his embrace and headed to the bathroom. “Be prepared, that’s my motto.”
“Since when?”
Since I started feeling older, she thought, but she said, “Since I decided it was. I’m hitting the pillows as soon as I get my teeth brushed.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you under the sheet. And with just a good-night kiss, I promise.”
*****
Lois fell asleep right away but didn’t stay asleep. The liquids she’d consumed with dinner awoke her just after midnight, and when she came back from the bathroom she felt wide awake. She knew the feeling wouldn’t last, but she knew that sleep would elude her for the moment.
She looked over at Clark and shook her head slightly. The man could fall asleep at a moment’s notice. Of course, since he spent so much time being Superman and her husband and an award-winning investigative journalist, he was usually running on less sleep than even he needed.
She watched him breathe under the moonlight and it nearly took her breath away. She loved him so much that sometimes she almost couldn’t stand it. He wasn’t perfect, but his faults were few, and she easily forgave him every one without a conscious thought. The best part was that this incredible, immensely powerful, super-man loved her.
And she had no idea why that might be.
She hadn’t understood why he’d waited patiently for two years as he undermined the fortress around her heart. She hadn’t understood why he’d stayed around when she’d refused his first proposal. She hadn’t understood when he’d stayed with her through the amnesia/clone/Luthor disaster. It wasn’t as if she were his only choice for a companion.
It still baffled and amazed and stunned her that he thought her worthy of his love.
There were thousands – probably hundreds of thousands – of women of all ages from all over the world who were willing to drop everything in their lives to dedicate themselves to satisfying his every possible desire. The Metropolis post office still delivered every letter written to Superman to the Foundation, and despite Superman’s multiple declarations that he neither required nor desired a romantic relationship with any woman, the letters still came.
Some came with pictures. And some of the pictures left nothing to the imagination.
He’d shared a few of the less lewd ones with her when they were first married, hoping to amuse her, but soon discovered that she wasn’t pleased with the implicit competition. He’d never meant it that way, of course, but after that he destroyed the pictures as soon as he dropped them out of the envelopes. Not for a moment did she believe that he was savoring the views.
Yet Lois still knew that he saw them. And she couldn’t hope to compete with some of those women.
It wasn’t healthy to think along those lines, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She was getting older. He didn’t seem to be. And despite having all the faith in the world in the Utopia their descendants were supposed to build – the one that H. G. Wells had claimed they would inspire – they hadn’t conceived a child.
No. That wasn’t right. Lois hadn’t conceived a child.
And her biological clock was not just ticking, it was spinning like a windmill and buzzing like a nest of angry hornets.
She knew that Clark would tell her that it didn’t matter to him. He’d take her in his arms and assure her that he’d married because he loved her, not because of any children she might or might not give him. But tonight, at that very moment, all of that made no difference to her. She knew, without anyone having to tell her, that she’d let him down, that she was holding him back, that she was the anchor keeping him from doing and being more than he already was.
She quietly turned on her side facing away from him and silently wept.
