Clark pulled into a densely treed roadside stop. "Do you think the Jeep will be safe here until nightfall?"
"You're serious about wanting to get back to Smallville?" Lois said, trying to formulate a plan to deal with the difficulties inherent in Clark having contact with people who knew he had seven missing years.
"Yes," he said, reaching over and kissing her cheek. "I'm eager to start our lives. Together - as husband and wife. Once we're there, you can work on your novel if that's what you want to do. And we can think about our future."
"You don't want to keep driving? Think of it as a honeymoon?"
"Honey," Clark said, smiling through his 'consider-this' expression. "We can have a vacation anywhere in the world. At any time. But this is our honeymoon, and all we need is a readily accessible bed." He looked around the Jeep, appearing to search for something. "As a honeymoon venue," he said with a wink, "this is sadly lacking."
"OK," Lois said, smiling despite her gut rapping its warnings through the corridors on her brain.
Clark leapt from the driver's seat and went to her door to open it. "Let's go home," he said as he scooped her into his arms.
Lois kissed him, and they flew into the early morning sky.
Part 12
Twenty minutes after Lois and Clark had arrived at the farmhouse, a haphazard trail of clothes extended from the back door through the living room and up the stairs - and a breathy silence had fallen in the bedroom.
"Wow," Lois said. "What have you done to me? I can't keep my hands off you."
Clark had noticed that. "I'm not complaining," he said.
"I thought you said we were coming back to Smallville to - and I quote - 'work on the farm'."
"That *was* work," Clark protested. "See how breathless we are."
"You should get out of bed, try to locate your clothes, and get your cute butt into your barn to see to your neglected animals or crops or whatever else you have out there."
His chuckle oozed contentment. "And what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to drive into Smallville for some supplies," Lois said. "And then I'm going to open my file on the computer and see if I still think my novel is worth writing."
"What is your novel about?"
"Are you stalling?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "Or are you genuinely interested?"
"I'm interested," Clark claimed. "And I'm stalling," he admitted. "This is my honeymoon, and my wife has banished me to the barn." He tried to look suitably crestfallen.
Lois merely grinned at him. "OK," she said. "It's about two agents - one male, one female."
"Any chemistry?"
"Tons of it," Lois said with a grin. "But he's a little bit green, and she's a little bit hardened from years of experience, and they're thrown together on a difficult assignment."
"Can he fly?" Clark asked.
Lois swatted his chest. "I *marry* men who fly," she said. "I don't write about them."
"Are they going to sleep together?"
"Eventually," Lois said. "After I've put them through a few realistic impediments."
"What about unrealistic ones?"
"Maybe those, too."
"Poor guy," Clark said with feeling.
Lois drew her fingertip across his chest. "Would you get my clothes?" she asked. "Please?"
Clark grinned. "And if I don't?"
"Well, I guess I'll have to get them myself."
He waggled his eyebrows, courtesy of an overactive imagination, and then slowly stood from the bed. At the bedroom door, he glanced back and saw the appreciation vividly scrawled across Lois's face. Overcoming the temptation to return to his wife, Clark went out of the bedroom in search of the discarded clothes.
||_||
"Could I speak with the sheriff, please?" Lois asked the deputy at the desk.
"Who can I tell her is here?"
"Lois Lane."
The deputy retreated into the depths of the sheriff's office, and a few seconds later, Rachel Harris appeared. "Were you able to find out anything about Martha?" she asked.
"No good news," Lois said, steadily meeting the sheriff's gaze. "In fact, our information strongly indicates that she passed away around the same time as Jonathan."
Rachel's face crinkled with sorrow. "Oh, no," she said. "I was so hoping that the news would be better for Clark."
"Clark is understandably devastated," Lois said. "This brought back much of the trauma of what he has endured, and everything has compounded."
"What happened?"
"He needs some time and space," Lois said. "The townspeople were so supportive when he first returned home. I believe we have you to thank for that." She smiled tentatively. "That's why I've come to you now."
"What can I do to help Clark?"
"It is imperative that no one mention his parents or their passing," Lois said. "No condolences, regardless of how well-intentioned. And no mention of the missing seven years. Clark just wants to leave the past behind and move into his new life."
Rachel nodded, although Lois could see that the sheriff wasn't completely convinced about glossing over the passing of a much-loved Smallville resident. "OK," she said eventually. "I'll put the word out."
"And I haven't had a chance to say this to you before - but thank you for your help on the night when Neville Moyne broke into our home."
The slight flutter of Rachel's eyelids signalled that she hadn't missed Lois referring to the farmhouse as *our* home. "So you intend to stay in Smallville?" she asked evenly.
"For as long as Clark wants to."
"You're wearing a ring," Rachel noted, her eyes diving to Lois's hand.
"Yes."
"Are you and Clark engaged?"
"Actually, we're married," Lois said. "We decided to make it official while we were in Metropolis."
"Did you marry before or after he found out about his mom?"
"Is that important?"
"I think Clark would be particularly vulnerable after hearing the bad news about his mom," Rachel said.
"He asked me to marry him," Lois replied. "He felt he would benefit from some stability in his life. Hence, his desire to be married without delay."
Rachel stared at Lois for a long moment. "For Clark's sake, I'm willing to trust you," she said. "But you should realise that if I ever believe you are using him or taking advantage of his situation, I will do anything I can to ensure that the damage you cause is kept to a minimum."
"Clark has been damaged a lot," Lois said. "But not by me. I love him. I am trying to help him build a new life."
"I hope so," Rachel said. "Because Clark deserves some good luck."
"Yes," Lois said.
"I'll ensure that he isn't pressured," Rachel said. "And I'll keep his parents and the seven missing years off the agenda."
"Thank you."
"Before the week is out, I'll be visiting Clark to see for myself that he's OK."
Lois nodded and walked briskly out of the sheriff's office.
||_||
Clark stood in the middle of the barn and comtemplated it through the dust haze. He should feel something. If he was a farmer, and this was his farm, he *must* have spent a lot of the past decade right here.
When had his father died?
Lois had said both of his parents had died after his childhood, but enough years had passed to assuage his initial grief.
Clark took a couple of hesitant steps forward. There was *something* here. Something barely perceptible. Something just beyond his grasp. Something he couldn't define.
Was there something Lois hadn't told him about his past? Something significant? Did it have anything to do with his parents?
His adoptive parents.
But this nebulous awareness wasn't just about Martha and Jonathan Kent. This went back further. It was something important. But although he grappled with the limits of his memory, he couldn't latch onto anything tangible.
For the first time since coming to consciousness in the room at the EPRAD base, frustration rasped through his memory-swept mind.
With a sigh and a silent reminder that he had promised Lois he wouldn't stress about the effects of his amnesia, Clark began sorting through the tools in the trunk that had been pushed into the corner of the barn.
He picked up a hammer and slid his hand along its burnished handle. Its head bore the dents of fierce and repeated contact. He closed his fist around the wood and tested its feel. It was a good hammer - finely balanced, well weighted.
He must have used it. Why had it been packed away in a trunk? And why couldn't he remember it?
The important memories would come back.
They would.
And if they didn't, they weren't important.
Certainly, nothing was important enough to break his promise to Lois.
His wife.
She loved him.
Forty-eight hours ago, he had begun a new life with nothing.
Now he had Lois. Forever.
He had a home.
Clark went to the barn door and leant against the frame, slowly panning the trees, the driveway, the distant road, and the farmhouse.
Nothing made any sense. The front garden ... half of it bore evidence of a harsh prune; the other half looked as overgrown as a jungle.
But both halves indicated that someone had once tended this garden.
His mother?
If she had loved and cared for the plants in her garden, why had he allowed it to deteriorate to such a neglected condition?
What could possibly have been more important than honouring her memory?
And it wasn't just the gardens. The barn had been repaired recently - but it was in dire need of a new coat of paint.
Tufts of weeds grew up the sides of the barn. Why hadn't he found a few moments to pull them? Him, in particular? After all, he could fly across the continent in just a few minutes.
So why did his farm - his inheritance from his beloved parents who had given a stranger a home - appear as if it had been someone's second or third priority for a long time?
When he'd asked Lois how they had met, she had told him about catching the bullet fired at her. But she hadn't given him a convincing explanation for how a farmer from Kansas had been there to catch the bullet.
Clark smiled suddenly as the two stray threads connected in his mind.
He had worked for the agency, too. And for longer than he had previously assumed. That explained why his farm looked a little rundown - perhaps he'd flown here whenever he could and quickly done the most necessary of the chores. And it was also a more credible account of how he had met Lois.
Why had she been reluctant to tell him? Was it because of the natural secrecy inherent in being an agent? Was she worried that he would inadvertently divulge confidential details?
Why had they decided they would return to Smallville? Had - as she'd said - Lois needed a change after the death of her partner? And had he taken the opportunity to suggest they return to the farm together to give her time to heal and their relationship time to become established?
That also seemed reasonable.
Clark turned around and moved back into the barn, feeling more satisfied with his conclusions. But there was still *something* hovering just out of his reach. Secrets lurked here - he could feel them.
||_||
Lois's agency cell phone rang a mile and a half from home. She pulled the Buick onto the side of the road and saw that the call was from Scardino.
"Hi," she said. "What's happening? Have you found out anything about the missing person?"
"No. But I talked with Eric last night, and he has a number of ideas to follow up."
"Follow up? I expected more than that. It's been a couple of days."
"He thinks we should question the people who were there at the start. He's meeting with the widow as we speak."
Deller's widow? Or Bortolotto's? Probably Deller - Bortolotto hadn't come until after Deller's death. "Do you think Eric's committed to this?"
"Absolutely. And he's dampened down some flares that didn't even occur to me."
"Ah," Lois said. Until now, she hadn't thought about them either. "The family would have been told the assumed details of the death."
"Exactly. But Eric contacted her."
"I wonder if he told her the identity of the real murderer."
"He said it was a fellow agent," Daniel said. "How's your friend doing?"
"All right," Lois said, smothering vivid memories so they couldn't seep into her tone.
"Has he remembered anything?"
"No. But I've told him some things."
"Was that wise?"
"I didn't have much choice considering some of the things he started doing."
"Oh," Daniel said. "*Those* sort of things."
"Yeah."
"Has he remembered anything about the seven years?"
"No. Nothing. And that's how I want it to stay. For as long as possible. I even told him they are both deceased. There was no way to explain a disappearance."
"I wondered how you were going to deal with that," Daniel said. "Does he remember how he sustained the concussion?"
"A little."
"So he knows about the costume?"
"Yes."
"The media want a press conference."
"I'll get back to you," Lois said, wondering how Clark would respond to that request.
"OK."
"And Daniel?"
"Yes?"
"You talked about an annulment?"
"Yes."
"We don't want it. Just leave things as they are."
Lois heard the gush of his breath, but was unable to determine if it had been driven by surprise or some other emotion. "Congratulations," Daniel said. "I'm so happy for both of you."
"You are?"
"Yes," he said, sounding sincere. "Please pass on my best wishes."
"Thanks."
"Call me if there is any possibility of an appearance."
"OK." Lois hung up the phone, feeling as if a web was closing in around her.
Clark would be Superman. He would be. It just wasn't within him to ignore someone who needed his help. The call would come again; she was sure of that. The next time there was a disaster or some other incident that threatened human life, they would turn to Superman for help.
It would be better if - when that happened - Superman had already made a non-emergency appearance.
An interview would be the perfect vehicle. Menzies would be there to protect the secrets - Superman's other identity, the atrocities of the past seven years, and the fact that the sum total of the superhero's memories spanned less than three days.
But ... Lois sighed, deeply regretting having told Clark that his mom had passed away. She still couldn't see any way of explaining a mother of unknown whereabouts without getting way too close to the horrors of the cell, but her gut was nervy about the explosion that surely had to come.
Would Clark remember? Would Scardino call to say they had located Martha?
Would Clark be upset that she had lied to him?
Would he understand? He wouldn't - not if she told him only part of the story. But how could she tell him about his missing mother without also having something plausible to explain why he hadn't scoured the planet in search of her?
Clark still needed more time.
But every time Superman appeared in public, every time he featured in a news report, there was a chance that Martha Kent would see it. That was one of the foremost reasons Lois had encouraged Clark to go public with his abilities when they'd first been told about the asteroid.
An interview now would help prepare him for the next time someone needed his help. Martha - assuming she was still alive - needed to know that her son was free. Reuniting Martha and Clark was of the utmost importance for both of them.
But would Clark - carefree, untroubled Clark - survive the pain of remembering? What would that do to his vulnerable self-confidence?
What would her lie do to their marriage?
Eventually, Clark would know about the cell. It just wasn't realistic to think that he would never remember, that no one would ever inadvertently say something, that there would never be any news of his mother.
Lois had to tell him - *before* any of those things happened. The timing was critical. She needed to secure as much time as possible for Clark, but each extra day, each extra hour risked something detonating the bomb.
For now, she had to continue helping him to rebuild his life. She had to encourage him to do the interview. That would begin to establish Superman - in both his mind and that of the public - as alien and friend. The lunch with her family was also important. Clark needed to see himself as part of a larger group - a family. And there was the community of Smallville, too. Rachel's visit, although potentially hazardous, would help Clark reconnect with the fabric of his life - even if he had no specific memories.
Lois pulled onto the road, and a hundred yards later, she turned into the driveway before the Kent farm.
"Lois! How lovely to see you," Maggie Irig said as Lois stopped the Buick in front of the house. "Wayne said that you and Clark were back." She stopped, and anxiety filled her expression. "Did you find out anything about Martha?"
Lois put her hand on the other woman's arm. "It's not good news," she said.
"Oh, no," Maggie said, covering her mouth with her hand.
"We don't know for sure," Lois said. "But it seems there is very little chance that Martha is still alive."
"You don't have a body?"
"No. And there won't be a memorial service."
"But -" Maggie searched Lois's face. "How is Clark?"
"This has been a bit of a setback for him," Lois said. "What he wants most is to move on. He doesn't even want people offering their condolences."
"I guess he needs time."
"Yes, he does. He has suffered a lot."
"Will you come in for a cup of tea?" Maggie asked.
"I would love to," Lois said, a little surprised that it was true. "But I've been to Smallville, and I don't like leaving Clark alone for long."
"I understand," Maggie said. "Perhaps one day soon?"
"Yes. I'd like that. Thank you."
"Thank you for coming and telling me about Martha."
"I know you were a special friend of Martha's. And you and Wayne were so wonderful in looking after the farm while Clark was away."
"We miss them," Maggie said, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her apron. "They were the best of neighbours."
Lois put a gentle hand on Maggie's shoulder. "I have to go," she said with real regret.
"You get back to Clark," Maggie said, raising a smile. She grasped Lois's left hand. "Is that what I think it is?"
Lois smiled. "What do you think it is?"
"An engagement ring."
"You're partially right."
"How can you be partially engaged?" Maggie said with a chuckle.
"Clark asked me to marry him," Lois said. "I accepted his proposal, and he gave me this ring."
"So you're engaged?"
Lois smiled with sweet memories. "Actually, we're married," she said. "But we haven't gotten around to buying the wedding rings yet."
"You're married?" Maggie squeaked. "When? Where did you have the ceremony?"
"It was very small," Lois said. "My father isn't well. My closest friend died recently. And Clark's parents obviously couldn't be there. We decided that something quiet would be the best option for us."
Maggie squeezed Lois's hand. "I'm so pleased," she said. "I'm so pleased for both of you."
"Thank you."
"Would it be all right if I congratulate Clark the next time I see him?"
"Yes," Lois said. "I'm sure he would appreciate that."
"And perhaps - in a few weeks, after Brett's wedding - we could have a wedding party for you and Clark."
"Perhaps," Lois said. "We'll see how Clark is feeling."
Maggie threw her arms around Lois and placed a motherly kiss on her cheek. "If you or Clark ever need anything, please ask us," she said.
"There is something," Lois said.
"What can I do?"
"How do I know when an apple pie is cooked?"
"When it's nicely browned on the top."
"How long should it take?"
"Your oven should be about 350 when the pie goes in. Then it should take about forty-five minutes."
"Thanks," Lois said.
"Martha Kent made the best apple pies I ever tasted," Maggie said.
"That's why I am going to try to make one for Clark."
Maggie smiled with encouragement. "What a lovely thought."
"I burned the last one," Lois admitted.
"That's easy to do," Maggie said. "I've done it myself."
Lois got into the Buick, waved at Maggie Irig, and drove back towards the road, her anticipation at seeing Clark not able to completely smother the dire warnings of her gut.
||_||
Clark heard the sound of a motor coming closer. He stepped out from the barn and looked in the direction of the sound. The Buick was moving quickly.
He lowered his glasses and focused his eyes. He could see Lois clearly despite her still being half a mile away. She looked preoccupied, her fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel.
Clark broke into a jog and ran down the driveway, arriving at the gate at the same time as the Buick. He leapt over the gate and went to the driver's window. "Hi, honey," he said, feasting his eyes on her.
"Hi, yourself," she said, breaking into a smile.
Perhaps she had been worried about leaving him alone. "I missed you," Clark said.
"I was only gone for an hour."
"I still missed you."
"I missed you, too," Lois said. "Did anyone come?"
"No," he said. "But we had already decided that if someone came, I would fly away. There was no need for you to worry."
Her smile dissolved the final traces of her anxiety. "Are you going to open the gate for me?"
"Sure."
A few minutes later, they were carrying the supplies into the kitchen. They unpacked them together, Clark remembering unerringly where everything belonged.
Lois noticed, too. "I hope that means you remember how to cook," she said.
"I cook?"
"Scrumptiously. I don't, so we're a good team."
"Oh, yes," Clark agreed. He stepped right up to her and took her into his arms, revelling in the freedom to hold her whenever he wanted to.
Lois put her hands on his chest to keep a small distance between them. "If we start this, we won't get lunch for ages."
"Does that matter?" Clark murmured as he kissed her. "I'm not hungry. Not for food."
Lois's laughter tasted sweet on his lips. "For what then?"
"Let me show you," he said as he lifted her into his arms and strode out of the kitchen.
She took hold of his cheeks and began kissing him with such desperation that Clark was never exactly sure how they safely negotiated the stairs.
||_||
After a delayed lunch, Clark went outside and Lois began to mix the ingredients to make pastry for the pie.
After slipping it into the oven, she set alarms on both of her cell phones and began clearing away the floury mess.
When the kitchen was spotless again, Lois sat at the table and waited for the time to pass, determined that she would not destroy another pie with her inattentiveness.
Her mind drifted.
Clark.
He was dynamite in bed.
Considerate. Fun. Exciting. Uninhibited. Gentle. Strong. Sensual. Hot.
Lois fanned her cheeks, telling herself that the oven was making the kitchen unseasonably warm.
She thought back to their conversation last night, relieved that disclosing his origins against the backdrop of their post-lovemaking closeness had worked so well.
She'd asked him at breakfast if he felt any different - knowing he was Kryptonian. He'd smiled and said that it didn't change how much he loved her, and that had settled the matter.
So far, so good.
The ominous spectre of the memories of the cell seemed to retreat with each step forward in their relationship. Each hour - each trip to the bedroom - fortified Clark's life as a loved and loving husband. His time in the barn established him in his vocation as a farmer and would hopefully provide tentative links to the parents he could no longer remember. Each use of his powers diluted the feelings of strangeness and isolation.
But every step forward came at a price. All of her training and experience confirmed the conviction of her gut that if she didn't get the timing of her revelation right, Clark was going to be hurt again.
Her agency cell phone buzzed, carving through her thoughts. As she rose from the table, the alarm on her personal cell sounded, too. Lois slipped on Martha Kent's mitts, opened the oven door, and gasped.
The pie was perfect.
In looks, anyway.
And - Lois inhaled deeply - it smelled great, too.
She took the pie from the oven and placed it carefully on the cooler. After closing the oven door, removing the mitts, and silencing the alarms, she stared at her creation.
The pastry was lightly browned, a little crispier at the edges and softer in the centre. It looked like it had come out of Uncle Mike's kitchen.
Lois checked the time. It was ten past four.
She didn't want to wait.
Lois pushed the pie further onto the bench and hurried outside.
||_||
Clark heard Lois's footsteps. She was running. What had happened?
He sprinted out of the barn and met her halfway to the house. "What is it, Lois?" he asked. "Are you all right?"
She was smiling. "I'm fine," she said. "Are you hungry?"
"Hungry?" he said as thrilling possibilities marched into his mind. He glanced to the upstairs window of their bedroom. "*That* hungry?"
"Not right now," Lois said, taking hold of his arm. "Come with me."
Clark allowed her to drag him to the back of the house. Before he reached it, an enchanting aroma filled his nostrils. An aroma that smelled of home and family and belonging.
"What did you do?" he asked Lois, stalling their progress.
"I made your favourite food," she said.
"Apple pie," he said, suddenly knowing. "I can smell it."
"I know your mom used to make it for you," Lois said. "This is my second attempt. Last time, I put it in the oven and forgot all about it."
"Did it burn?" he asked, managing one iota of sympathy for the results of her first effort despite the enticement of her second effort luring him into the kitchen.
"Yep," Lois said. "As black as night. And as crumbly as ash."
He grimaced. "What did you do?"
"I packed it away and tried to hide it from you."
"What did I do?"
"You flew to Italy and brought home pizza." Lois took the final few steps into the kitchen, and a wave of familiarity engulfed Clark. She passed the table and gestured to the pie.
Clark came closer, relishing every breath. "I thought you said you can't cook," he said.
"I can't," Lois said. "But I really wanted to do this for you."
Clark took her into his arms - partly because he needed her closeness to offset the turbulence of his emotions and partly in an attempt to hide the moisture that had leaked into his eyes. She hugged him, and he could feel the excitement pulsing through her body. He wasn't surprised when she backed away.
"Can we eat some now?" she asked eagerly.
Clark was sure that he could never refuse Lois anything - particularly when she looked at him with that scintillating smile and those sparkling eyes. "Now?" he teased. "It's not supper time yet."
"But our meal times are all askew anyway," she said. "Seeing as how we were too busy to eat lunch at lunchtime."
"I would love to eat pie now," Clark said.
Lois beamed. "Would you like whipped cream or ice cream with it?"
"Ice cream?"
Lois took a knife from the drawer and handed it to Clark. "I'll get the ice cream; you cut the pie."
He cut two large pieces and put them into the dishes. Lois added dollops of vanilla ice cream, and they settled at the table.
Lois waited while he loaded his spoon. Clark took it to his mouth, determined that however it tasted, he was going to give a believable performance of delight.
He didn't need to act.
It tasted exactly as it should - light pastry around soft-cooked apples, slightly sweetened.
"Is it all right?" Lois asked.
"It's perfect, honey," he assured her.
"Does it taste anything like your mom used to make? Do you remember?"
"I don't remember my mom making pie," he said honestly. "But I do remember that apple pie should taste exactly like this."
She smiled with relief and took a spoonful to her mouth. After swallowing, she said, "You're right. It does taste good."
"And no ashes to be seen anywhere," he said, trying to chase away the lump in his throat.
"It was silly to try to hide them from you," Lois said, digging into her pie again. "Your sense of smell works better than anyone else's, too."
"Thank you, Lois," Clark said, bemoaning that simple words couldn't begin to express the depths of his gratitude for everything she had done for him.
"I still don't cook," she said, pointing the spoon at him. "This was the exception."
"Understood," he said gravely.
"Clark?"
"Yes, honey?"
"Remember last night when we were talking about whether we should get married?"
"Yes," Clark said, wondering where this was going.
"When I suggested that we make love, you said that you had been raised to believe in the sanctity of marriage."
"Yeah," Clark said. "I didn't mean to sound as if I was seizing the high moral ground."
"You didn't," Lois said. "But that's not my point. I'm saying that you must have remembered something - even if you couldn't remember the specifics of being told by your parents, there was something there."
"I didn't think about that." He grinned. "My mind was a little preoccupied."
"The essentials of who you are have survived the amnesia," Lois said. "Things like your integrity, your strong sense of what is right and what is wrong - it's all still there."
"Is that good?" Clark asked.
"It's great," Lois said. "You're still so definitively 'Clark' but ..."
"But without the hang-ups?"
Her nod was slight. "The best things about you haven't changed."
Actually, something had changed. Wonderfully. "I have an idea," Clark said.
"What?" Lois said with immediate enthusiasm.
"I think I've done enough outside today. We've just eaten, so there's no hurry for supper."
"So ..."
"So would you like to have a bath? Together?"
Lois slowly slid the spoon from her mouth. "Together?" she echoed.
"Would you like to do that?"
She put her spoon in her empty bowl and sprang from the chair. "Last one upstairs has to sit at the drain end," she said.
Her flying footsteps floated down the stairs, combined with peals of laughter. Clark stood slowly and took the dishes to the sink.
"And no cheating, Kent," came Lois's giggle-filled command.
Clark flew - literally - up the stairs, his heart so buoyant he couldn't imagine ever being happier.
