<<< Chapter Fifteen >>>
Clark walked onto the news floor, at once hoping he’d see Lois and knowing that he wouldn’t. “Hi, Perry. Hey, what are you doing here on a Saturday afternoon? I thought the Sunday edition was already put to bed.”
Perry hauled himself out of his chair. “Much to my wife’s displeasure, there is always news happening. And this is the biggest story since Elvis and Priscilla’s triplets a few years back.”
Clark frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t – of course you don’t know, it’s too soon. Come with me. I’m about to initiate a call with Bill Henderson. Since you’re here, you need to be in on it.”
Perry gestured for Clark to sit down in front of one of the notepads on the table. As usual, there were a dozen or so freshly sharpened pencils in the middle of the table.
The editor thumbed the ‘on’ button and the speakerphone buzzed with a dial tone. Perry punched in a number and waited two rings, then a voice answered, “Henderson.”
“Bill, this is Perry. Clark Kent is here with me.”
“You sure that’s wise?”
Perry sighed. “I’d never hear the end of it if I shut him out.”
“You’re changing the front page for this, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
A dry chuckle grated out of the speaker. “I don’t have to write this up for the public, just for the DA.”
“So give us the lowdown, Bill.”
“Here goes. This afternoon, at about four PM, Lex Luthor was shot in his apartment by his – “
“WHAT!”
“Easy there, Clark,” Perry said. “Right now that’s all we know. Let Bill finish his statement, okay?”
Clark took a breath and closed his mouth, then nodded.
When Clark heard Bill say that Lex Luthor was dead and Lois was being questioned, he almost stopped breathing. The news stunned him. He could barely see his pad to take notes, much less find his desk and know where his fingers were on the keyboard.
*****
Breaking news always took precedence over a reporter’s personal life, even Clark Kent’s. So Clark found himself at his desk, trying to make sense of what he’d learned that evening and reminding himself to call his parents and tell them not to wait dinner for him.
Lex Luthor was dead, murdered in his own apartment by his ex-wife, Dr. Arianna Carlin. Dr. Carlin had then died at the hands of Lex’ friend Asabi, who was in police custody along with Lois Lane, who had fought with Dr. Carlin prior to her death. Neither Asabi nor Lois was expected to be charged with anything, and neither one was under arrest, but they were being interviewed in order to discover just what had happened in that apartment.
There was the finished sidebar with Dr. Carlin’s biography, including her brief marriage to Luthor and her psychology practice, where she had specialized in counseling incarcerated felons. The sidebar also contained the public information about Dr. Carlin’s involvement in LexCorp and its associated businesses, and it also hinted at more nefarious involvement on her part. The quoted speculation by the District Attorney that her practice had been a front for her criminal activities was detailed in the main story.
After about forty minutes of struggling with his word processor, Perry stopped by Clark’s desk and asked about his progress. When Clark confessed his difficulty in putting together a quality front-page piece, Perry glanced over it, told him it looked pretty good as it was, and to send whatever he had to the editor’s inbox for a final polish.
Then Perry told Clark to go get his head on straight and all but pushed him out the window.
He changed into Superman in the alley behind the Daily Planet and began his patrol, but he needed more than this. He had to talk to someone about all the sudden and drastic changes in his life. Lois was otherwise occupied, of course, besides which she had shut off the link at her end, so Clark couldn’t talk to her without forcing himself on her. And he didn’t want to do that.
He realized that he needed to go to Smallville after all. So he aimed himself west.
Despite stopping three muggings in Metropolis, unstacking a nine-car pileup in Kentucky, preventing a carjacking in St. Louis, catching an apparent suicide jumper from the Red River bridge in northwest Louisiana, and controlling a runaway SUV with a ten-year-old driver in northeast Oklahoma, he was early.
As he landed just north of Smallville, Clark spun into jeans, polo shirt, and tennis shoes, then looked at his watch. With the time zone difference, it was still more than two hours to dinner, and he didn’t want to get in his mother’s way in the kitchen.
He also didn’t want to face her interrogation alone. He had to give his father time to get there.
Besides, it was time for something he hadn’t done for a while, something he’d put off too long.
It was time to visit Lana’s grave.
Her body had never been recovered after the explosion, of course, but her memorial headstone was situated in Smallville’s main cemetery, almost at the back of the grid work of graves and markers. He’d never seen the headstone, since it had been placed after the memorial service, but he knew the epitaph read, “Lana Lang-Kent – Beloved Wife and Daughter – Rest In Peace.”
Now if Clark could only get some peace about his future.
He approached the entrance and waved to the elderly security guard. Mr. Dolman was in his early eighties now, wore trifocal lenses and hearing aids, walked slowly despite his flame-painted cane, and his voice cracked when he tried to speak loudly. But he’d been the guard at the cemetery entrance since before Clark had landed in Shuster’s Field, and the man knew everyone in the tri-county area.
“Afternoon, Clark,” he called. “Reckon I know why you’re here. You just take your time, son, and I’ll be here when you leave. As long as it’s before dusk, of course, cause I gotta get these old bones home and let them rest.”
“Thanks, Mr. Dolman. Oh, I won’t bother anyone in there, will I?”
The older man slowly shook his head. “You won’t bother anyone. All of our guests are permanent residents and they don’t mind visitors.”
Clark smiled at the old joke and walked in. To get to Lana’s grave, he had to walk down a slight incline, then up and over a low rise, through a stand of sycamore trees, and past the huge Martin mausoleum. The family had helped Smallville get through the worst of the Great Depression in the nineteen-thirties, and out of gratitude the townsfolk kept their final resting place neat and trim.
As Clark stepped around the Martin memorial, he saw a woman kneeling not far from Lana’s headstone. He slowed his approach so as not to startle her or disturb her, but then he realized that she wasn’t just near Lana’s grave, she was kneeling beside it.
She was wearing a stylish dark pantsuit and low-heeled shoes, with a matching sweater draped over her shoulders and tied by the sleeves in front of her neck. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was gathered expensively on top of her head. He still didn’t quite recognize her, so he decided to find out, very discreetly, who she was.
Then he saw the bottle of Jack Daniels in her right hand. And the pill bottle in her left hand.
She was trouble with a capital ‘T’.
He quickened his pace as much as he dared and walked into her line of sight. “Ma’am?” he called out. “Are you okay?”
She lifted weary eyes to look at him, and he thought he recognized her. But who was she? How did he know her?
“Aren’t you Clark Kent?” she asked.
He slowly stepped closer. “Yes. Have we met?”
She shook her head slowly. “Just once in the last twelve years or so. Think red carpet, big stack of presents, ‘Clarkie,’ my husband Robbie – “
The memory clicked into place. “Carolyn! You – you’re Lana’s mother!”
Her gaze slid to the front of the gravestone. “Yes. Carolyn McConnell, used to be Carolyn Lang before she got so stupid. I’m what’s left of her, anyway.”
He knelt down on the other side of the grave. “Mind telling me what you’re planning to do with those pills?”
She lifted the bottle in her left hand and grunted. “Huh. I forgot I had them.” She inhaled and sighed. “I was going to take all of these – they’re Valium, twenty milligrams, and I think there are still about fifty in the bottle. And then I was going to drink as much of this ninety-proof whiskey as I could, lie down on the ground beside my daughter’s grave, and die.”
Clark sat back on his haunches and crossed his feet. “And now?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I haven’t had a drink since the day after I found out my daughter was dead. When my husband Robbie told me, I went up to my room and emptied two bottles of vodka and did major damage to a quart of bourbon. I woke up next morning in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and they thought I wouldn’t make it through the night.” She chuckled and wiggled the bottle in her right hand. “I did, of course. But I haven’t touched a drop since. I wanted to make sure I was good and sober before I ended it all.”
He reached out and gently took the whiskey bottle from her hand. “How long have you been here?”
She shrugged and let the pill bottle fall to the grass. “Since a little before noon. What time is it now?”
“It’s about four-thirty or so.”
She nodded. “You know, this is the first time I’ve had the courage to visit my baby’s grave, and I was going to kill myself. Wouldn’t that have been stupid?”
“What changed your mind?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe it was that fact that this was my first visit. Maybe I’m scared of dying.” She reached out and brushed the grass. “And maybe I just don’t want to disappoint my little girl one last time.”
“I don’t think Lana was disappointed with you.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t lie to me, Clark!” she snapped. “I won’t have it! Lana never trusted me from the day I left her in the driveway to wait for Dennis! And why would she? She was only nine years old! How could I have done something like that to my baby? How could I have tossed her away like that?”
He didn’t answer.
She wiped unshed tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, you’re here to visit Lana, not comfort the self-centered dumb broad who abandoned her.” She sniffed and reached out to steady herself. “Time for me to go anyway.”
“Wait.”
She paused in mid-lean. “What?”
“Wait, please. I’d like to hear some of your memories of Lana.”
Carolyn stood and frowned at him. “Why? I never had the decency to visit the two of you. I signed the cards our servants picked out for birthdays and holidays. I don’t even remember whether or not I put in the impersonal gift cards. So why do you want to hear anything I might have to say?”
He reached out and touched her wrist. “Because you loved her. Because I loved her. And maybe we can help each other.”
She peered into his eyes. “Help – each other? You mean – you’re still hurting?”
He nodded. “The pain doesn’t cripple me any more. It doesn’t keep me from doing my job or from trying to build a life without her. But I don’t think I’ll ever forget her, not if I live a thousand years. She loved me, and sometimes I still wonder how I lived before I realized I was in love with her.”
“Share memories, huh? Kind of like a therapy session, I guess.” Carolyn dropped her head for a moment, then slowly sat down again and nodded. “Okay, I’ll play along. Which of us goes first?”
“Why don’t you start? Maybe something from her childhood?”
“Um.” She chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed. “I wanted to ask you about Dennis first. I heard he got married again.”
Clark nodded. “He did. He married a very nice lady scientist and as far as I can tell, they’re deliriously happy working and living together.”
She closed her eyes and waited a breath. “Thank you. I’m glad he’s doing well. And I’m glad I didn’t permanently ruin his life.”
“You didn’t. But we were going to talk about Lana, weren’t we?”
"Right." Carolyn nodded once. “Let me think – oh, yeah! She asked us for an archaeologist’s hat for her fifth birthday. We didn’t understand what she meant until that movie trailer for ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ played on TV and she jumped up and down and yelled, ‘That’s it! That’s my hat!’ We gave it to her the morning of her birthday, and for the next few months she was ‘Indiana Lana’ from the time she got up until bedtime.”
He smiled and took her hand across the grass in front of the headstone. “Thank you. I never knew that about her, but I can see her at that age, running around with that hat on, trying to find the treasure under the couch.”
“Oh, no, it was under the refrigerator. She told us so. She made her father move it so she could dig underneath.”
This time they both laughed softly. Then she said, “You know, I was a little – um – I’d had a bit to drink before we came to the reception Dennis threw for the two of you, so I don’t remember it very clearly. Was Lana wearing a white dress with flowers on it?”
“Yes. She even had tiny yellow flowers woven into her hair.” He sighed deeply. “She was so very beautiful that night.”
She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I’m glad I remembered that much.”
“You’re welcome. Your turn again.”
“Actually – I’d like to ask you something.”
He nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll answer it if I can.”
“How much – I mean, did she – no. I just need to blurt it out.” Carolyn took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. “I need to know – was Lana a good person?”
The question surprised Clark. “Uh – well, since she and I were married, I’m not sure I can give you an objective evaluation.”
“No – no, I guess you couldn’t. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I can tell you what my dad told her.”
“What was that?”
“He told her that if they’d adopted a girl, he couldn’t have been happier if she’d been like Lana.” Clark chuckled. “There were times when I thought he loved her more than he loved me. As far as he’s concerned, my mom hung the moon and Lana helped with the stars.”
Her eyes squeezed shut and she choked out, “Th-thank you. Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s true, too. You could ask him yourself.”
“Maybe I will someday.” She smiled openly for the first time and flicked moisture away from her cheeks. “My turn, right?” He nodded and she took a long breath. “Let’s see. How about Lana’s first day in kindergarten? One of her friends – I think it was Charlene – yes, it was! Charlene wouldn’t get out of her mother’s car that day no matter who said what to her. Finally Lana marched out to the car, opened the door, put her hands on her hips, and said, ‘Charlene, if you’re going to graduate from college, you have to start somewhere!’”
Clark laughed aloud with her. “I suppose Charlene went inside?”
“Oh, yes! If Lana wanted someone to do something, that person almost always did it.”
“That’s true. Did you know about the city water tower?”
“Water tower? No! What about it?”
“It was the spring of her junior year. She convinced five or six of her girlfriends to help her repaint Smallville’s main water tower fluorescent pink.”
Carolyn clapped her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a laugh. “You’re kidding me!”
Clark lifted his hand. “No, ma’am, it’s the truth I’m telling you with my hand up! They might have gotten away with it, too, if they hadn’t gotten pink paint in their hair. Sheriff Harris held them overnight in the jail and released them to their parents after they promised Judge Smith that they’d get all that paint off and repaint the town name properly. And the judge specified that they use black paint to put it back like it was before they ‘fixed’ it.”
They both laughed this time.
They spent the rest of Clark’s free time exchanging Lana stories, most funny, some touching, and a few heart-rending. But before they left, they both knew that Carolyn McConnell would not need her pills and whiskey cocktail. She’d always have regrets, but he could tell that she knew it was time for her to move on with her life and build something worth her time.
And Clark became fully aware of something he’d already known but hadn’t wanted to face just yet. It was time for him to move on with his life too.
*****
Jonathan leaned back and laid his hands on his ample belly. “Martha, that may have been the best meal you’ve ever made.”
She slapped his shoulder playfully as she gathered the spent dishes. “Oh, honey, you always say that! You’re just trying to butter me up again.” To Clark, she whispered, “He thinks if he praises my cooking I’ll be more likely to get frisky with him after you leave.”
“Mom! I really don’t need to know that, okay?”
She and her husband laughed aloud. “Oh, Clark, I was just teasing! You know that.”
“I don’t mind the teasing so much, but I do mind knowing – that other stuff.”
Jonathan leaned forward and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “This is where most fathers say something like, ‘So where do you think you came from?’”
Clark put his head on the table and covered his ears with his hands. “Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-I-can’t-hear-you-nah-nah-nah-nah – “
Martha pushed Jonathan’s hand away. “Leave the boy alone now! He has something important to say to us, don’t you, sweetie?”
Clark lifted his head and looked around as if checking for snipers. “Is it safe to come out now?”
The three of them shared a laugh as Martha refilled the tea glasses, then put the pitcher on the table. “Yes, son, it’s safe. Your father and I will behave. I promise.” She lifted her eyes to her husband and intoned, “Won’t we, Jonathan Kent?”
He put on his best innocent face. “Yes, dear, I will most certainly behave.”
Clark chuckled. “Thanks, you two.”
“For what, son?”
Clark put one hand on his father’s wrist and one on his mother’s. “For being the best parents a guy could ever have. I honestly don’t see how I could possibly love you two more than I do.”
Jonathan sensed that they were finally getting to the real reason for the visit. “Do you have something you want to tell us, son? Or is there something you want to ask us?”
Clark sighed. “Something I want – no, that I need to tell you.” He leaned back with another sigh. “Rebecca and I broke up today.”
Martha leaned over and enveloped him in her comfort. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she said.
Jonathan squeezed Clark’s hand but didn’t say anything. He’d never been totally comfortable with Clark’s relationship with Rebecca, but he hadn’t said anything because he hadn’t been asked. He had loved Lana like a daughter, almost as much as Clark had loved her, but she was gone and his son had been behaving as if he’d considered marrying some other woman.
And to his own surprise, it was okay with Jonathan.
He hadn’t wanted it to be okay. He hadn’t wanted to let go of his feelings for Lana. He hadn’t wanted anyone to replace her, not now, not ever. But it was time for him to accept her death, to accept that she was never coming back, and to accept that his son was a man who – despite all his powers – needed to love a good woman and be loved by her. He just couldn’t see Rebecca in that role, though.
He could, however, see Lois Lane in that role.
And, once again, he knew he couldn’t say anything about her unless Clark – or, even less likely, Lois herself – asked his opinion on the subject. It wasn’t his place to dictate to his son who he should love or who he should marry. That was Clark’s call all the way.
As Martha released Clark from the hug in which she’d enveloped him, Jonathan asked, “Is this a permanent breakup?”
Clark nodded. “Yes. Rebecca and I want different things from marriage. I want a home I can feel safe in and a wife who’ll make me her top priority in this life, just like I’d make her my top priority in life. Rebecca and I have decided that we aren’t going down the same road together, that we never will go down the same road together, and that we need to get out of each other’s way.”
Jonathan nodded. “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?”
Clark exhaled. “Yes. It does. But not like I thought it would.”
Jonathan nodded again. “That sounds like you’ve been thinking about ending it with Rebecca for a while now.”
His son squinted and tilted his head to one side. “Huh. I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I guess I have been.”
Martha patted his hand again. “Honey, you just take all the time you need here tonight. You can spend the night if you want.”
Now he frowned. “I wish I could, but there’s a big story breaking back in Metropolis that I have to cover.” Clark sat up straight and looked at both his parents in turn. “Lex Luthor was shot to death this afternoon by his ex-wife Arianna Carlin. And Lois is with the police now, answering questions.”
“What!” barked Jonathan. “Why is Lois under arrest?”
“No, Dad, she hasn’t been arrested. The story we’re printing tomorrow morning is that Carlin shot and killed Lex before Lois got there, tried to shoot Lois but Lois fought her off, and Carlin was in turn killed by Lex’ servant Asabi in self-defense. The police just need Asabi’s and Lois’ statements about what happened.”
“Why – why would Lois need to fight her off? What happened to her powers?”
“I don’t know exactly what happened, Dad. I assume that Carlin had some more of that green crystal, but I can’t be sure until I talk to Lois, and besides, that’s not something we’re going to publish. I’ll let you know more details when I get them.”
Jonathan’s mouth hung open and he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He closed it with a snap and glanced at his wife, who was as pale with shock as he’d ever seen her. He reached over to touch her hand, and as soon as he did, she grabbed it and held on for all she was worth.
Clark stood. “Mom, Dad, I’m really sorry to drop this on you and fly off, but I have to go. I want to be available for Perry if he needs me. And I need to be available for Lois if she wants to talk to me.”
Jonathan nodded. “I understand, son. But can’t you just think at her? You know, talk mind to mind?”
“She’s turned the connection off at her end, and I have to respect her privacy.”
“Honey, I understand your discretion,” Martha offered, “but Lois really needs a friend right now.”
“I know. I plan to go over there tomorrow morning and talk to her, assuming I can get past the police, and assuming she’s willing to talk.”
Jonathan pulled in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly. “She will, Clark. You’re her best friend. And it sounds to me like she really needs a friend.”
Clark bent down and kissed his mother on the cheek, then stood tall and looked his father in the eye. “I hope you’re right, Dad. I’m going to be available either way. And Superman is going to fly a few extra patrols near her apartment tonight.”
Martha stood and gave her son a quick hug. “Go, Clark! Go be a good friend.”
“Thanks, Mom, Dad. You two are the best.” He took a step towards the back door, then stopped and half-turned toward them. “Even if you do talk dirty in front of me.”
He was gone by the time Jonathan’s belly laugh escaped.
