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Part 18

Part 19

Monday

Lois didn’t need to be to work until noon on Monday. Jonathan Kent gave her a lift to the bookstore in his truck. At first, it felt weird sitting in the truck with Clark’s father after having gotten used to being in it with Clark. Lois liked Jonathan. He was comfortable with silence in a way she appreciated that morning. It gave her time to reflect on her after-breakfast conversation with Martha.

By the time Lois had awakened that morning at almost eight, Clark was already at work. Lois was still angry at him for disappearing for what seemed like hours the night before, only to show up like nothing was amiss. And that was after she had forgiven him for treating her so badly after shifting through her trash.

Men!

When Clark had left to run his ‘errand,’ Lois realized how every little sound or voice seemed to be amplified in her small basement apartment. Several times she had heard voices pass by and fear had gripped her as she wondered if it were the thieves coming back. She couldn’t believe she had actually considered staying by herself in the apartment that night and was glad that Clark had offered to let her stay with him.

Then another hour had passed and still no call and no Clark Kent. Lois, in her anger, had phoned in her story to Terry, her old editor at the Smallville Post. She had conveniently forgotten to add her boyfriend’s name to the byline as promised.

You really should call Terry and remedy that, Lois.

Lois had explained to Terry about the break-in, so he had switched on his mini-cassette recorder and she had read him her article over the phone and he said he would type it up for her. Terry had always been good to go above-and-beyond for his reporters like that. Even a human interest nobody like herself. She only wished that she had photos to go along with the article. He had told her not to worry about that as there were so many freelance photos of Superman out there; they could easily pick one up off the wire.

Terry was thrilled at the exclusive and even told Lois that he still had connections at the Wichita Eagle with whom he might share the article, because even he knew it was too big of a story to be limited to their small-town press. Lois’s heart had thudded loudly in her chest. Wow, the Wichita Eagle had a subscriber list of over fifty thousand. Never had so many people read the words that she had written.

Clark would love to share in some of that praise, too, missy.

Lois looked down at her hands in her lap, feeling guilty. Yes, she really ought to call Terry once she got to work and tell him that Clark had worked on the article with her. Actually without Clark…

And without his interest in you…

… there would have been no article.

She had seen in that morning’s Metropolis Star that Superman had been busy fighting fires that had broken out in tenement houses in Suicide Slum, which was why it had taken him so long to return to her the night before. Lois’s brow furrowed. Hadn’t Kal – Superman – Clark said that he had been fighting the same type of fire the night he had rescued her from being hit by the car? How many fires had broken out in apartment buildings in that area of Hob’s Bay recently? She was beginning to wonder if there was an arsonist behind it all.

Martha’s breakfast was the best breakfast Lois had ever eaten in her whole history of food. No simple bowl of cereal, banana and orange juice at the Kent house. Oh, no. There were scrambled eggs with ham, chives and parmesan cheese. There were thickly sliced bacon and homemade crispy hash browns. Toast on homemade whole-wheat bread with homemade and home canned apricot jam. Coffee that smelled so good, it had floated Lois out of her bed and into the kitchen before she had actually woken up. And to top it all off, freshly-made homemade cinnamon rolls. Lois had never eaten so much for breakfast in her life.

“Can I move in with you?” she had practically begged Martha after seeing the spread.

Clark’s Mom had laughed and had replied, like they ate like that all the time, “It’s just breakfast, dear.”

How in the world does Clark eat like that on a daily basis and still look like Mr. Hardbody? Must be a Kryptonian thing.

Whatever it was, Lois wanted it. A slight flush came to her cheeks. She meant his metabolism.

Yeah, right. We all believe you.

Then Martha had sat down with her while she ate. The Kents had already finished their breakfasts hours earlier – farm habits apparently were hard to break, even in the city. Jonathan had taken the truck to check out the fresh produce market and Clark had gone off to his MDS delivery job. So it had just been the two women.

“I’d be more than happy to throw out Clark’s twin bed and get you guys a queen, if you’re serious, Lois,” Martha had continued, straight-faced, before sipping her coffee.

Lois had practically choked on her toast at that statement. “Martha!” she had said when she had finally been able to speak.

Then they both had laughed, Lois realizing that Martha had only been teasing her.

Well, Lois’s inner voice had told her. Two can play that game.

Lois had raised a brow and had said, “You and Jonathan wouldn’t move the bed yourselves anyway, not with Clark able to pick it up with one finger.”

The laughter had slipped off Clark’s mother’s face.

“And should Clark and I move in together, we’ll need a place with a private back balcony or deck for take offs and landings, don’t you think?” Lois had gone on, looking at Martha as she had peeled a piece off of her cinnamon bun and plopped it into her mouth. “Maybe a secret compartment for his blue suits and red capes.” She had thrown that in, just in case she hadn’t made herself clear.

Don’t forget his red shorts. The shorts make the outfit. And his boots…

Martha had just stared at Lois as she took another sip of her coffee, then a smile had hinted at her lips again. “Been thinking a lot about that, have you?”

Yes! Yes! Oh, God, yes! her inner voice had moaned.

Clark’s mother had given back as much as Lois had thrown at her.

“A bit,” Lois had admitted. “He’s nice to have around.”

Martha had glowed at this simple praise of her son. “Who? Superman or Clark?”

Lois had thought about the right way to say what she was feeling. “There’s only one. Clark is the one who is nice to have around.”

And Superman? Well, he’s just eye-candy.

“Yes, he is. But the two of you aren’t going to go anywhere with you not speaking with him.”

“Me! Clark’s the one not talking, Martha.”

Clark’s mother had raised her brow. “Honey, I don’t have to have Clark’s hearing to know you refused to even say good-night to him last night.”

Lois had gulped, concentrating on her food.

She knew about that?

“He disappeared for hours on me last night,” Lois had explained in a tone that bordered on whining. “No reasonable excuse either, just gone.” She had waved her hand as if it were taking off into the air.

That was when Clark’s mother had passed her the Metropolis Star with the article about the tenement fires.

“I should have known it might be something like that,” Lois had mumbled, chagrined.

It says here that he saved over fifty people from smoke inhalation and death.

Martha had sighed. “Lois, you need to understand that Clark has always been alone. When he was thirteen and getting strong – really, really strong – he made up his own mind not to tell anybody. He said he wanted to fit in.” She had shaken her head. “But he never could, not really. It broke my heart, watching him having to hide so much, afraid he would always be alone.”

“But he will always be alone if he can’t find the confidence to tell me the truth,” Lois had tried to rationalize to his mom. “Try as I might, all the lying…” She had sighed. “I need him to be honest with me. I can’t just tell him I know. It needs to be his decision to tell me the truth, so he doesn’t keep lying. That’s why I need you to tell him to tell me the truth.”

Martha had laughed. “Is that how things work in your mind, Lois? That I make Clark’s decisions for him?”

Lois had blushed, looking down. “He’s worried I’m going to leave him for the man that Tempus told me about,” she had whispered.

“But that’s Clark!” Martha had stammered, exasperated.

“He doesn’t know that and I’m not going to tell him. I’m not even sure I can follow destiny’s plan, but… but every time I try make my own plans for the future… I realize…”

Martha had waited as Lois had searched for the right words.

“I don’t know how to leave him. I like him too much and I don’t want to hurt him,” she finally had confessed. “No matter how many times he has lied to me, angered me, made me scream in frustration…”

And there has been a lot of frustration…

Lois had sighed. “I still want him and only him.”

In every way humanly possible and a couple that may only be possible with him.

Martha had patted her shoulder. “That’s how Jonathan makes me feel sometimes.”

She had moved her gaze to Martha’s face.

“Some of us call it ‘love’.”

Lois had shook her head adamantly. “No. No. No. Clark and I just started dating a week ago. It can’t be love yet… can it?”

“A week ago?” Martha had asked, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Yes. When he brought me here for dinner. Wasn’t that a date? I know I told him it was a non-date date. But it really was a date, wasn’t it?”

Martha had shrugged. “Oh. Yes, I guess so. You see, in Clark’s mind, you didn’t start dating until that first kiss. That’s how he’s rationalizing it. It’s too soon.”

“Soon? But our first kiss was ten days ago!”

“Really?” Martha sounded surprised.

Clark hadn’t told his folks about the kiss in Receiving?

“Well, it wasn’t a real kiss… or it wasn’t meant to be a real kiss… only once I started kissing Clark, I discovered I didn’t want to stop…” Lois had glanced over at Martha, realizing that she was rambling on again, and to his mother no less, and flushed. “Did you put jalapeños in these eggs?”

It isn’t that kind of hot pepper that’s making you blush, girly.

Martha had grinned with glee and a shake of her head. “You’re right. That couldn’t possibly be love.”

Lois had eaten in silence for a few minutes, trying to let her face return to its normal shade. Then she had bitten her bottom lip, lowered her voice, and plunged forward, “Can I ask you something? Woman to woman?”

Clark’s mother had leaned forward in anticipation.

Then a thought struck Lois and she had to ask, “Can he hear me?”

Martha’s lips pressed together as she thought. “Yes, if he’s listening. No, if he’s not.”

Well, that clears things up.

“Do you think he is? Listening, I mean,” Lois had asked, hoping not.

His mother had shook her head. “I’m sure he would have stopped by to apologize to you by now, knowing that you know, and having learned that he has nothing to worry about from that man from the future’s prediction, had he been listening.”

Lois had released a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. “I’m having some difficulty…” She had blushed again, but continued nonetheless. “… moving our relationship…” She had been sure she must have looked like a lobster by the time she had finished. “… forward.”

“Forward?”

“Past kissing…” Lois mumbled.

“Oh?” Martha had gulped.

Had Clark’s mother been surprised by Lois’s dilemma or that Lois had brought it to her attention? Only Lois didn’t have another woman in her life she trusted to ask these questions to. She certainly could not confide in her mother.

“Perhaps it’s best that you two wait until you’ve worked out the whole truth and honesty predicament first,” Martha had suggested.

But I don’t want to wait! her inner voice had pouted.

“I was kind of hoping that becoming more intimate might nudge him in that direction,” Lois clarified.

“Oh. I see.”

“But he seems to be a bit reluctant.” Her voice had been barely a soft whisper by this point.

“Really? Clark?” Martha had seemed surprised and slightly curious.

“No, your other son Kal,” Lois had snapped, impatiently. She hadn’t known if it was Martha’s surprise or her own crazy thoughts that pushed her to snapping.

Oh, so maybe Clark is able to… just not with you. Do you think he lied about being a virgin? No, men don’t lie about that. Maybe his mom doesn’t know.

“But Clark’s head-over-heels in love with you,” Martha had stammered, confused. “He has been for weeks.”

Truly? Weeks? Goody, goody, gumdrops! Her inner passionate side was so reveling in this information that it regressed several decades.

Lois had leaned forward towards Martha. “Is he…?” She had then blushed and turned away, not able to ask the question on the tip of her tongue.

Not to his mother, Lois! No, even you couldn’t ask that question to his mother. Clark would have told you if he wasn’t, wouldn’t he have? And if he ever heard you ask that question to his mother, Clark would never be able to look at you again. Never! End of relationship, never.

“Is what, dear?”

Didn’t Tempus tell you that your descendants help create the utopian world that he hates? Wouldn’t that mean that Clark is built like a human male? Anatomically correct, that is.

“Never mind,” Lois mumbled, stuffing her mouth full of cinnamon roll to stop herself from saying more.

Martha had furrowed her brow in confusion and then her eyes widened, understanding. Clark’s mother had laughed and laughed so hard in surprise that she could hardly stop. When she had been able to speak again, taking off her glasses and wiping the tears of joie de vivre from her eyes, she had said, “Yes, dear, he is.”

Thank God!

“Thank goodness,” Lois had gushed and concentrated on her breakfast once again. Finally, her curiosity on another thing that Kal El had told her about Clark had gotten the better of her. “Kal mentioned that Clark got burned once by love. Do you know that story?”

“Kal?” Martha had asked.

“Kal-El.”

“Uh-huh.” Martha had stared at her waiting.

Lois had gulped. “For a while there yesterday I though Kal – Superman was Clark’s twin brother. It made more sense than his constant lying.”

“I don’t know if I could have handled two of him.” Martha had laughed. “At once.”

“Well, I had thought that Kal was born with all the powers and Clark was just… well, Clark.”

“He is.”

“Yes, I know.” Lois had sighed. “That’s why I love him so.”

Love?

“Love?” Clark’s mom asked, her eyebrow raised and questioning.

“No! Like. Like. Definitely like,” Lois had clarified, extremely poorly. Neither her inner voice nor Martha believed her.

Clark’s mother had taken another sip of her coffee and then had stood up and walked to the sink. “If you want to know about Lana, dear, you should ask Clark.”

Lois’s heart clunked around her ankles. “Lana?” And then fury had rumbled inside of her. “Lana Lang?”

“You know her? Oh, yeah, I guess you would. She was from Smallville, too, wasn’t she?” Martha had murmured softly.

“Ya’d think that Clark would have mentioned that,” she said through gritted teeth.

“It was a long time ago, Lois. Don’t give Clark a hard time about it. She treated him poorly,” exclaimed his mother.

“Poorly?” Lois harrumphed with a roll of her eyes. “It’s not Clark I’m angry at, Martha. Lana is a witch, a sorceress, an evil enchantress, bent on destroying young men. If she had anything to do with Clark’s phobia…”

“Phobia?” Martha had asked, brow raised, but Lois had knocked the word out of the air. “She treated other boys badly as well?”

“Most definitely,” Lois had snarled.

“What happened?”

Lois had gulped thinking sadly of her friend who had given her the globe. “He died.”

She heard a siren and it pulled her back to the here-and-now, sitting inside the truck with Jonathan. Lois then saw an ambulance and a firetruck roar by. She tilted her head to see better out the front window of the truck, hoping for a glance of Superman, but he wasn’t there. Probably best if Superman didn’t chase ambulances anyway.

If Lana had done to Clark what she had done to Pete… Lois shook her head. And he still hadn’t recovered from it. Lois would have a lot of work to do to piece together that poor man’s ego.

Lois sighed and glanced over at Jonathan.

He noticed her glance and smiled sheepishly.

Oh, that is where Clark picked up that facial expression.

Jonathan finally broke the quiet, not by saying anything about his son, but by asking if Lois knew Wayne Irig.

“Mr. Irig? Sure. Mrs. Irig always had the best caramel apples on Halloween,” Lois replied with a smile. “I went to school with their son Chuck.”

“Ah, that’s right.” Jonathan had nodded. “Helen had just given birth when we left town.”

They spoke of Smallville. What had changed. What was the same. It was obvious to Lois that Jonathan missed his hometown. It was a good place to be from. If her parents didn’t still live there, she would probably even have said that it was still a nice place to live. Sometimes distance was a good thing.

“Why did you leave?” Lois asked.

“Blight, drought and then a flood. I couldn’t keep up with the payments. The farm and house got foreclosed upon,” Jonathan explained with a regretful sigh. “We didn’t want to leave.”

“Why don’t you move back?”

“And do what? I’m a little old to start farming again after all these years, even if I could afford the land,” Jonathan said wistfully. “And Clark isn’t interested in it.” Then he gave her a rare smile. “Though he’d be a great farmer.”

Clark would be great at anything he placed his mind upon.

“The diner where Maisie used to work closed down last year. Nobody wanted to eat there without her. Smallville could really use a good place to eat,” Lois hinted suggestively.

Jonathan sighed. “That’s too bad. Martha and I always enjoyed eating there.”

“Maisie’s gossip drew in more people than the coffee. She seemed to brighten up the place and make people forget that the food was only so-so. She has been missed.”

“She’s given up the gossip trade here in Metropolis. She’s become more taciturn since Carl died,” he murmured, concentrating on the road.

“I noticed that the other night,” agreed Lois, thinking about the woman who had interrupted their Sunday dinner the previous weekend to borrow Martha’s iron. It had been a pleasant shock to each woman – Lois and Maisie – to find the other with the Kents.

“You know I had heard rumors that she left town after she cracked up at Carl’s wake. Embarrassed herself and couldn’t face the townsfolk again. Apparently she got drunk and started spouting off a crazy story from back when they were dating. It was the mid-1960s and she and Carl witnessed some secret government agency digging up Shuster’s field and hauling off a…” space ship. Lois’s voice faded. Maybe it hadn’t been a crazy story after all. That would explain why Carl had started drinking. And why Maisie had been more interested in other people’s business than in telling people her own.

Jonathan gasped. “Hauling off what?”

Oops. The cat’s out of the bag now, deary.

“Superman’s space ship,” Lois murmured.

Jonathan jaw dropped.

You might as well tell him you know. It will make it easier on Martha.

“I know Superman is from Smallville. Or at least arrived there. The space ship story and globe clearly go together,” Lois told him.

Jonathan glanced over at Lois, then muttered, “So they found it.”

“Guess so. You’ll have to ask Maisie about the details.”

He sighed. “At least they didn’t get the globe.” Then Jonathan sighed again.

He must be remembering it got stolen out of your apartment and somebody else has it now.

Lois’s heart ached. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I would have given it to Clark, if I had known how close he and Superman were.”

Jonathan patted her hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

His words were reassuring, but for some reason Lois didn’t feel at peace. She asked him to drop her off at the corner, down the block from the bookstore. The thieves hadn’t found her emergency money hidden in the toe of her oldest and smelliest pair of running shoes.

Lois had called the bank first thing after breakfast to cancel her ATM and credit cards and to let the banks know that they were stolen the previous day. Luckily, there was no way the thieves would have guessed her PIN. It was Pete Ross’s birthday. Lois sighed. She had been thinking more about him in the past few weeks than she had over the last few years.

Lois thanked Jonathan for the ride and went into the small convenience store to buy a calling card. Martha had packed her one of those chicken sandwiches that Lois had drooled over that first day she and Clark had shared lunch. If she had parents as wonderful as the Kents, she wouldn’t want to leave home either. But she knew that wasn’t why Clark still lived with his folks. She would have to ask him the real reason, one of these days.

Lois walked into the bookstore and returned the wave Jack gave her. She dropped her stuff in her break room locker and put her sack lunch in the fridge. She still had a couple of minutes before she had to clock in, so she went over to the payphone located between the restrooms and called Terry.

“Finally, Lane!” he had barked at her. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”

“I spent the night at a friend’s, Terry, not really wanting to stay at my place. What’s up? Did you need me to clarify something?” she asked.

“The Wichita Eagle ran your article in this morning’s edition,” he announced.

“What?” she gasped.

Clark’s going to kill you.

“My former editor was ecstatic at your exclusive,” Terry told her.

I bet he was.

“I made sure the article was credited to the Smallville Post though,” Terry continued.

“But, Terry, that’s why I’m calling. I forgot to tell you that I wrote the article with my partner,” Lois stammered.

“You with a writing partner, Lane?” Terry guffawed. “When have you ever needed a partner? When have you allowed yourself to be partnered up with someone? Hell, girl, you wouldn’t let anyone but me look at your copy. If I recall correctly the town council elections...”

“Terry!” Lois interrupted. “Can you add Clark’s name to the Smallville edition or not?”

“OK. Okay.” She heard him shuffling papers around on his desk. “Shoot. What’s the guy’s name again?”

“Clark Kent.”

“Clark Kent?” Then Terry laughed. “Is he related to the Smallville Kents?”

“Yes, he’s Martha and Jonathan Kent’s son,” Lois admitted.

“No! You found Martha and Jonathan? You’re kidding me, right, Lane?” Terry exclaimed.

“Were they lost?” Lois asked, hesitantly, becoming curious.

“No. No, I guess not.” Terry’s voice calmed down. “I bet Wayne Irig knows where they are. Not that he’d talk if you broke the man’s fingers. Next you’re going to tell me you know where Maisie is.”

“Yes. She’s working for the Kents at their restaurant,” Lois responded.

“Lane! Superman, the Kents, and Maisie! Were you this good of an investigator when you worked for me? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You’re darn tooting I was.

“I did say. And if I recall you said I was good only for human interest and fluff pieces,” she retorted gruffly.

“I take all that back now. When did you arrive in Metropolis?” he asked.

“A little over a month ago,” Lois said slowly, wondering where he was going with this line of questioning.

“You’re the best reporter I’ve ever met.”

About time he noticed that.

Lois glanced down at her watch and noticed she was supposed to have clocked in a minute before. “I’ve got to go, Terry. Can you send me a copy of my article?” she asked.

“Gotcha, Lane. I’ll throw in a copy of the Wichita Eagle as well. Oh, and the check for your story. And don’t be surprised if the Metropolis Star comes knocking at your door.”

Like you’d ever work for a paper stupid enough to hire Linda King.

Lois hung up the phone and let a grin of exhilaration spread across her face. Her article was on the front page of the Wichita Eagle! Thank you, Superman.

Clark’s going to be mad as hell when you tell him, Lois.

She pressed her lips together as she returned to the break room to clock in. He didn’t need to know about the exclusion of his byline from the Wichita Eagle and his name would be on the Smallville Post’s own article. She would still share the check, and that should placate him.

*** End of Part 19 ***

Part 20

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