Part Eight
Two a.m. Daily Planet Newsroom
“Hey!” Clark said, clutching his arm, “What was that for?”
“No matchmaking my foot!” Lois began pacing back and forth in front of Clark’s desk. “You gave all this great advice to Jimmy, but you won’t help my Uncle Mike get together with Grace! What’s that all about? Some kind of cockamamie double standard against my family? Ok, so maybe my parents aren’t the poster children for staying together, but Mike and Rita did. The only thing that ended that marriage was death. Now my uncle has a possible second chance at love and *you* want me to ignore it. What about caring for Mike’s needs and wanting to see him happy?” Lois stopped and wrapped her arms around herself.
Clark’s expression transformed from startled bewilderment to complete comprehension. He stopped Lois from pacing by gently holding her shoulders and looking into those sweet deep brown eyes. As he spoke softly and slowly, his voice – that familiar rumble - entered her ear and caressed her sensuously all the way to her toes.
“Lois … honey. Mike’s situation is different from Jimmy’s in so many ways. From everything you told me, his marriage to Rita was happy: home, children, a successful business they built together. Think about what you’re saying. As a mature man who’s lived a full life, he might deeply resent anyone pushing him into a relationship. If you really insist on nurturing their friendship, then by all means, encourage Mike to bring a date. If his choice is Grace, fine. But, afterwards, let them take it from there.”
After a few moments Lois nodded her head in acceptance. “Oh, Clark, you’re right. It’s just that Mike Lane has been more like a father to me than my own father. Oh, Daddy and I are getting along much better these days. Still, it’s hard to ignore all those years growing up when Mike and Rita were there for me. I watched him suffer while Rita was dying and helped him grieve when she passed away. He’s been lonely for such a long time. He deserves someone special.”
“With a family like ours to support him, he’ll *never* be lonely. As for finding someone special, only time will tell if Grace is the one.” Clark cupped his long fingers under her chin. “Mike will find someone, honey, but it has to be at Mike’s pace - not yours.”
Lois looked at him intensely. Her lower lip trembled and her brown eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She whispered softly, “Like you found me?”
He nodded then opened his arms wide to gather her close. Lois held him tightly then spoke, her voice slightly muffled. “Thanks for not letting me make a mess of things.”
He answered in a slow western drawl, “No problem, Ma’am, all part of the service.” He walked back to his desk, sat down and hastily wrote an e-mail. “Speaking of which, we have given quite enough to Perry and the Daily Planet for awhile. I’m leaving a note, letting him know we are going on vacation, starting today.”
Despite herself, she chuckled softly, remembering once again all the reasons she loved this man.
“Now that this case is wrapped up, Miss Lane, would you care to accompany your fiancé to a much mentioned boulangerie for coffee and a freshly baked chocolate croissant? Oh, and did I point out the croissant or as they say in French pain au chocolat will be baked by a woman named Amandine… and - she lives… in Paris?” Clark bowed low and offered his arm to Lois.
A warm grin of sheer pleasure spread across her face. “Why, kind sir, I thought you would never ask!” She took Clark’s arm and together they walked up the red staircase towards the Daily Planet’s darkened rooftop.
Seconds later the familiar sonic boom was heard over Metropolis...
Dawn - Paris
The flight over was brief, all too brief for Lois who had flown the Atlantic Ocean before. Of course she had never seen it from this vantage point. She had never had the chance to appreciate the vast blackness below or the seas of stars above. In the inky blackness of the waters below, occasionally small points of light were quickly appeared and just as quickly were swallowed up by the night. Lois reasoned they must be vessels of all sorts plying their trade upon the Atlantic. Wrapped securely in Clark’s voluminous red cape and wearing a pair of jeans and a light blue cashmere turtleneck, Lois was protected from the chilly air of Earth’s upper atmosphere.
They had stopped at their respective homes and changed clothes. Clark’s parents were sound asleep as befits folks who get up with the chickens. Lois’ mother was not staying at her’ apartment that night, which she counted as fortunate, Lucy was sound asleep. Lois imagined the argument that would have ensued about her running around Metropolis at all hours of the night. Their former attire had been slated more for working in the newsroom and tackling jewel thieves. But her beige business suit and matching pumps were definitely *not* suited for a leisurely early morning breakfast and perhaps a quiet stroll along the Champs Élysées.
They landed in a darkened alley behind the bakery. Lois nostrils were offended by the anomalously mixed scents of freshly baked bread and garbage. She could hear the frightened hiss of a cat swiftly departing.
Clark chuckled, “I guess we scared the little guy.”
“You would be nervous too if a man and woman came upon you from the sky! We probably disturbed him in the middle of hunting a mouse.”
As they talked, they stepped cautiously out of the alley and onto a quiet, wide sidewalk. The night was slowly passing away and the streetlights were still on. Hand in hand they walked to the bakery shop called, Chez Morel. Lois inhaled the sumptuous smells of freshly baked breads and heard her stomach rumbling.
“Sounds to me like somebody’s hungry,” Clark said.
“Farmboy, the only thing I’ve had in the past eight hours is a couple of soggy pizza slices and a low-fat latte. My stomach is looking for some serious food.”
The couple walked swiftly to the front door. Just as Clark reached to pull it open, a man hastily exited. He was rapier thin with a long face. In his right hand he held a long baguette and in the other a chunk of crusty bread. Seeing Lois, he bowed and held the door open with his foot.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle,” he smiled, taking in her beauty and totally ignoring Clark.
Lois bowed her head in quick acknowledgement of his kindness. The man smiled as they passed and let go of the door, right on Clark’s backside. If it were not for his quick reflexes, the door would have shattered.
Neither Lois nor Clark cared, their senses were being treated to a sumptuous culinary heaven.
The boulangerie’s space was large; on the left side stood a long marble green countertop covered with colorful pastries; éclairs, religieuses and tartes. On the right were white marble counters of different heights displaying all manner of breads: long elegant baguettes, thick country white bread, ring shaped breads called couronnes and the delightful sweet bread that looked like a muffin with a round dot on top, the fluffy brioches. Along that wall behind the counters were dozens of baskets filled with all manner of bread loaves, rounds and rings delicately sprinkled with herbs.
Some early morning customers milled about, their netted shopping bags already filled to capacity with the boulangerie’s wares. The female staff members working behind the counters were in the process of bringing more hot and crusty breads from the shop’s rear.
“Jacques! Combien de fois devrais-je te dire de ne pas claquer la porte sur le nez des clients? Mon Dieu! Cet homme!” [Jacques! How many times do I have to tell you not to let the door slam on customers! Mon Dieu! That man!]
The owner of the voice was a tall woman on the wrong end of middle age. Her short cropped hair was as white as snow. But if her hair spoke of age, her unlined face belied it. With the exception of a few delicate lines around her mouth and eyes Amandine Morel looked younger than her sixty-two years. Her bright blue eyes shone with good humor, as she approached the couple, a small, knowing smile on her face.
“Bonjour Clark! Back in Paris so soon? Surely your newspaper cannot afford to keep sending you here on such short assignments? She turned to look at Lois. “My young friend, you mentioned she was pretty, but said nothing about her being beautiful. This must be…”
“Madam Morel, mon cheri, Lois Lane,” Clark finished her sentence.
“Of course!” Amandine wiped her hands on a flour dusted apron and then enthusiastically shook Lois’ hand. “Mademoiselle Lane, it is a pleasure to meet you. Clark has spoken of you ever since he started working at the Daily Planet.”
Lois felt her face flush and said meekly, “Thank you. Clark has always told me about your shop. Just looking around the shop with the breads and pastries is fantastic!”
“Wait until you taste some!” Clark said with a grin.
Amandine laid a gentle hand on Clark’s shoulder and said, “Show her around, pick whatever food you wish. Tell any of the ladies I said it is my present to you.”
"C'est gentil, Amandine, mais vous m'avez donné de la nourriture gratuitement dans le passé. Je devrais" [Amandine, that's kind, but you gave me free food in the past I should...] Clark started.
“No my young friend, accept this gift. It is a pleasure to see both of you so in love and happy. After all, isn’t that what life should be?”
“Thank you,” Lois said. She was already eying the brioche and croissants.
“You are most welcome! Please come back again. Do not forget to bring at least one wedding picture! Please excuse me, sadly I must get back to work. May you both have much success and happiness in your life together.” The tall woman enveloped them both in a quick hug. Then with long legged strides, moved effectively pass customers and disappeared into the back.
“She is quite impressive,” Lois said.
“Yeah, she is.” Clark commented. “Almost every time I come to Paris I stop by to pick up something wickedly delicious. Now…what strikes your fancy?”
“Are you kidding, Clark? What doesn’t?”
***
It was still dark when they emerged from Chez Morel carrying a pink and blue bag filled with sweet and savory delights. They each held a large paper cup of coffee – freshly brewed from Amandine’s own kitchen. Early morning pedestrians were beginning to fill the wide sidewalks. No doubt workers either returning from work- or on their way- just like in Metropolis. Lois smiled to herself thinking of the similarities. Even in romantic Paris work still had to be done.
They passed several people and a few caught her eye. One was a heavily made up middle-aged woman, trying desperately to look ten years younger. Her slash of bright red lipstick formed an odd contrast to the dull red, black and gray scarf carelessly wrapped around her neck. In front of her another, much taller woman, with blonde hair, was more sensibly attired in a chic black suit with a crisp white blouse. She was obviously a fashionable lady who knew what worked for her.
A chic young couple wearing black business suits walked by purposefully, the man was pushing a baby carriage which had floating above it a lovely pink balloon. Lois could hear the happy sounds of an infant cooing. The soft noise made her heart do a tiny dance, and for a moment her thoughts wandered into previously forbidden zones.
Behind them they heard the plaintive voice of a woman; her Midwestern accent reminded Lois of Stacy Hunter.
“Jordan! Slow down, boy, we’re almost there! The couple turned around to see a slender young woman with very long brown hair. She wore faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt. She was walking a magnificent golden retriever. The friendly dog strode right up to Lois and Clark, wagging its tail furiously.
Clark knelt down and patted the dog’s head. Its golden fur felt warm and silky under his long fingers. “Hey, boy, you’re a good dog. Must smell our food, huh?”
Je suis... sorry. Lui ...well trained et normally lui ne pas courir to strangers. [I’m sorry! He well trained and normally doesn’t run up to strangers.] She said breathlessly in a mixture of French and English.
“You’re from America, right? Which part?” Lois asked.
“Oh good, you speak English! I’m working hard to speak only in French. It’s getting easier, but its nice to take a break. My name is AnnKay, from Casper, Wyoming. I’m here studying History at the Sorbonne. This frisky fellow here is Jordan and he *does* smell your food. I recognize the bag as coming from Amandine’s boulangerie. Sometimes – when he’s good - she gives him a treat, we are on our way there now.”
Clark stood up with a wistful expression. Amandine was a kind woman indeed, always ready to help a starving student or budding journalist. “Well, you don’t want Jordan to miss his treats.”
“Thank you! Enjoy Paris! With that, AnnKay walked – or rather was pulled on – towards the bakery.
Lois shook her head adamantly. “Don’t get any ideas! We *already* have a cat! Pepper won’t be too happy sharing us with a dog – no matter how beautiful!”
"Yeah, well we can table that discussion for another time.” He took her arm. “Right now we need to visit Notre Dame before the spotlights are turned off. It really is quite a sight.” Touching his glasses, he said, “Walking from this section of town might take too long...”
“Are you saying we should go there by Superman Express?”
Clark nodded. He figured that the twilight, no one would see them moving at accelerated speeds. Without another word, Lois hopped into his arms and off they went!
It took all of five seconds to reach the ancient building, its stolid form jutting into the brightening sky. It was an impressive sight, all history, mystery and romance wrapped in one structure. They decided to sit on a nearby bench to drink the remains of their coffees and share a chocolate croissant.
“Flyboy, next time we come back around midnight. Paris at night is so…romantic.”
“Romantic?” her companion said with a teasing tone. “The Lois Lane I met years ago would *never* have used the word, much less apply it to herself.”
She took a contemplative sip of the still warm brew. “How happy I am *that* Lois no longer exists! She wouldn’t be sitting here taking in the sights and sounds of Paris, only days before exchanging vows with a guy from Kansas.” Her brow furrowed. “She’d probably too busy trying to dive into a case of bank fraud or busting a drug ring.”
“Hey! Don’t ever stop diving and busting…its one of the many things about you I love!”
In happy response, she laid her head on his strong shoulder and sighed in what could only be described as utter contentment. They sat on that bench, talking and contemplating the future and all the joys and frustrations that future would bring.
Slowly, softly, the greater luminary of the day began to rise and take its place in the early morning Paris skies. Their conversation dwindled slightly.
“Are you getting tired, honey?” Clark asked.
“Now that you mention it. Yes, maybe it is time we went home. Lane and Kent the reporting team might not be working, but Lois and Clark still have a few things to do before they exchange their vows.” She tried, but failed, to stifle a yawn.
“We should find a quiet dark spot to…you know.” Clark made a sweeping motion with his hand as he stood up.
She took his arm and smiled up at him, “OK. Just be careful with Amandine’s presents! We don’t want to drop anything over the Atlantic.”
