She grinned and lightly touched his cheek. "So we're agreed?" she said. "We wait, perhaps one lunar season … two at the most? Then, we consider you to be a single man and fair game for any woman wishing to make a play for your heart?"
"It's already been played," Clark said.
Lois looked delightfully shocked. "I have competition?"
"Never."
She laughed and reached up to place a kiss on his cheek.
"I love you, Lois," Clark said. "And this time, I know it will be forever."
"I love you, too, Kent. Forever."
Clark gathered her into his arms, not caring that they were in the middle of a loud wedding and christening celebration. "I love you, Lois," he murmured into her hair. "I love you. I love you."
And each time he said it, another thorn fell from his heart.
Part 32
The long and boisterous night of celebration gained even greater momentum after the dawn ceremonies and continued indefatigably through most of the day. The lull came during the late afternoon when the Bangala people, tired and happy, retreated into their huts.
Diddi and Zephyrin had asked if they could go and help Gislane make sweet foods for the feast, and Lois had agreed, although she'd voiced doubts that they would last more than half an hour before succumbing to sleep. Left alone, Clark and Lois drifted into her hut to share a quiet cup of tea. Clark relished the chance for some time alone with her, listening as she related numerous tales of past celebrations.
Eventually, he noticed her eyelids starting to droop and her flurry of stories waning, so he stood and suggested she get some rest.
She agreed with remarkable acquiescence, possibly because she knew Sylva had awakened and was with Rolle and Martha.
Clark paused for a moment before leaving, wanting to drop down and kiss her in acknowledgement of the new stage they had entered in their relationship. But if he made the move, did he kiss her head? Her cheek? Her mouth?
She was smiling at him, probably in farewell, but it looked so much like an invitation that his resistance crumbled again. He stepped over to her and crouched down. "Sleep well," he said.
"Are you going to rest, too?" she asked. "Are you tired?"
"A bit. I might go to Tsumbu's hut later and get a couple of hours."
"Don't leave it too late. Romaric is expected back early tomorrow with the celebration antelope. The roasting spinner is ready. I love the anticipation - the aroma of the cooking meat as it permeates the village. Arandu is the master roaster. Gislane supplies him with oils infused with herbs and spices."
The promise of tomorrow's feast wasn't enticing enough to wrench Clark's focus from the present. Deciding honesty was the best he had to offer, he said, "Lois, I really want to kiss you again, but I'm not sure it is wise."
She grinned delightedly, showing no trace of sympathy for his dilemma. "Why wouldn't it be wise, Kent?" she asked. "Do you think I don't want you to kiss me?"
It was very clear from her expression that his kisses were welcome. "It's not that," Clark said, hoping she would spare him the need for an explanation.
"Are you thinking that two months is a very long time?"
He nodded, groaning from deep in a chest that enclosed his thumping heart.
"Me, too," she said, sliding her fingers down his jaw. "Of course, it would be a whole lot easier if you weren't so gorgeously sexy."
Clark felt his face heat, reaching right to his ears. "Pot. Kettle," he said, glad he'd found a way to lighten the atmosphere.
Lois chuckled. "I think I've wanted you since I first started digging green shards out of your body."
"I was a horrible mess then," he said. "And not just physically."
"It didn't hide the fact that you have a great body. Just as all your pain couldn’t hide the fact that you have such a big heart."
"Lana didn't …" Clark bit off the rest of his sentence.
Lois put her hand on his arm. "Whatever Lana thought doesn't matter anymore. It's only important what I think." Her grip loosened to a caress. "And I'm telling you that if you don't get out of this hut quickly, you risk being ravaged by a woman who loves you deeply and wants you terribly."
The temptation to push her back into the seat and ply her with manic, need-driven kisses was almost too much for him. But Lois was the love of his life, and that love deserved so much more than a hurried spur-of-the-moment rumble that risked being interrupted by Diddi. "Lois, I … I didn't think I'd ever feel like this again."
"In love?"
He chuckled wryly. "And all the rest, too."
"You mean you don't want to just be my friend?"
"I want to be your friend forever," he said. "But I want so much more."
"I do, too. And we'll have it."
"When the time is right." He needed to say that. He needed to remind them both that this was not the time.
"Have you thought about accepting that you will become a single man at some stage?" Lois said. "Single and free to love again? To marry?"
"Yeah. I've thought about it."
"You don't sound too sure."
"I have always believed that marriage is forever. That the vows cannot be broken. That -"
"But Lana broke your vows," Lois said. "You didn't."
Clark smiled at her vehement indignation. "Yes, she did. But every time I realise that I'm feeling less married - less committed - to her, I get overwhelmed by doubts. How can I make promises to you when the mere act of making those promises is breaking the promises I made to Lana?"
"You kept your promises. You kept on loving her, kept on being faithful …" Lois enclosed his hand in both of hers. "… even though you weren't completely happy."
"I was …" He couldn't lie anymore. "I suspected she didn't love me," Clark admitted. "I suspected she wasn't happy. The baby was so much more than an improbable dream coming true. It was a chance for a fresh beginning. A chance to find our way back to what we'd once had."
Lois put her hands on his cheeks and leaned forward to brush his mouth with a kiss. "When you make promises to me, I'll know that you will keep them until I break them," she said. "I'll know that you won't veer from your commitment unless I do. But you need to know that I won't be breaking my promises ever, so this time, 'forever' will mean 'forever'."
Clark smiled. "I love you so much, Lois," he said.
She kissed him again, lingering for a moment before breaking away. "You probably should get out of here," she said with exhilarating disinclination.
He rose. "Sleep well, beautiful lady."
She was smiling as she jumped up from the seat and moved towards her bed.
Clark turned and walked from the hut, his heart dancing, his mind spinning, and his body humming with almost-forgotten anticipation.
He walked through the quiet village, reflecting that its silence was completely different to the anxiety-riddled noiselessness of the previous day.
He could feel the promise of new beginnings, the rising up to greet new life.
He wandered into the empty carpentry hut and picked up his carving project. It was oval in shape, a little larger than the brooch his mother had worn on her scarf. He had originally planned for it to be bigger, but his efforts to get the curves reasonably uniform had whittled away more than he had anticipated.
Before the green stuff - before Tempus - Clark would have been able to sculpt a perfect curve with his eyes in just a few seconds.
Now …
He stared at it disconsolately. It wasn't good enough. Lois deserved perfection - or at least something more closely representative of his feelings for her.
But Clyde had been generous in his admiration for Clark's work and had encouraged him to continue with this piece instead of getting another chunk of wood and beginning again.
Once the outline had been shaped to his satisfaction, Clark had begun to work on the decoration, following Clyde's suggestion that he begin with the central part first. In the middle of the design, he'd fashioned a heart, its shape not entirely symmetrical, but well enough defined to be recognisable as a symbol for love.
There was room on either side of the heart. Clark picked up the chisel and began to scrape away the wood to the left. Slowly, the letter 'L' formed. With only straight lines, it wasn't too difficult and soon, Clark was satisfied with his efforts.
The final part of the project was going to be the most challenging, and realising he was suffering from the effects of two nights with very little sleep, he replaced the tools and went to Tsumbu's hut.
Tsumbu was asleep on his mattress. As Clark lay down on the other bed, his thoughts moved to Lois.
He was going to marry her.
He loved her. He wanted her.
And he wasn't going to allow anything to stand in the way of being with her.
Not even his own penchant for pigheadedness.
~|^|~
The pain hit him, erupting like a volcano and radiating throughout his body in fiery rivers of molten agony.
The face of Tempus loomed above him - dark eyes burning with hatred.
"You disappoint me, Clark Kent," he said. "You disappoint me. You're not what you should have been. You are a bad son, a bad husband, a bad employee, a bad friend. You have never been anything good."
"I … tried," Clark whimpered. "I -"
"You let your wife die. You didn't protect her. You let me take her. I killed her. I let her body rot. Because you ran away. Like a coward, you ran away."
"I didn't run. I loved her."
"You don't know love. You never will."
Rough hands grabbed his burning body, hustling him through dark and hazy corridors of pain.
Tempus appeared again, holding up a piece of green rock. "This is what you deserve. Die, alien, die!"
"I'm not an -"
"You are an alien. And a liar. And a deserter. You left your wife to die."
"Lana!"
"You will die, too. Your body will rot near hers."
"Don't! Don't hurt her. Please, don't -"
"She's dead. Her body -"
"The baby," Clark pleaded. "Don't let anything hurt the baby."
"They're gone. Dead. Because you didn't -"
Clark lurched to a sitting position, his heart hammering and his face beading with sweat.
It was dark. There was a muted patch of light to his left.
Where was he?
Where was Lana?
Had she died?'
Had he abandoned her? His wife? Their child?"
Across the darkness, Clark heard movement. He focussed his hearing and discerned the steady breaths of sleep.
Tsumbu.
He was in Tsumbu's hut.
In the Bangala village.
In Africa.
Lana … Lana had gone. Lana had left him. Tempus had captured him and subjected him to an explosion of the poisonous green rock. It had invaded his body, causing intense pain. It had left him weak. Slow. It had taken all of his strange abilities.
Tempus had known he was an alien. Tempus had wanted him to die. Tempus had said his body would rot.
Next to hers.
Had Tempus killed Lana?
Slowly, Clark rose from the bed and crept from the hut.
Was his wife dead? Because he hadn't stayed to protect her?
Since she had told him she was in love with another man - the father of her baby - Clark had imagined her happy with that man - loving, caring, sharing the anticipation of the new life they had created together.
But, what if …
What if Tempus had killed her?
If he had killed Lana, the baby - the child Clark had loved as his own - could not have survived.
He choked down a rising sob.
He'd known there had been so much wrong with the society in which he lived.
He'd known there were those who ruled with guns and violence, those who used their power to facilitate crime and profit from corruption.
For a long time, he'd suspected the mayor, Mr Tempus, was the instigator of much of the evil that pervaded their lives.
During the mayoral elections, Clark had uncovered leads and links. But Perry had told him to back off. Clark had offered Perry his support, suggesting they work together to bring about change, to expose the wickedness and exploitation. The next day, Perry had pulled out of the mayoral race, retired from his position at the Daily Planet, and left Metropolis.
Clark had never heard from him again.
He had wanted to investigate. He had wanted to know the reasons why Perry had backed down.
He'd discussed them with Lana - his questions and his suspicions - and she had burst into tears and begged him not to get involved.
Clark had believed Tempus was capable of anything in quest of the power he craved. He'd believed that Tempus becoming the mayor would accelerate the deterioration of their society and render the citizens perilously vulnerable. He'd believed Tempus had been behind Perry's retirement and disappearance.
But he hadn't wanted to upset Lana, so he'd let it go.
Had Tempus killed Lana?
There had been other times when leads had mysteriously shut down. Clark had never fought through the barriers. He'd never demanded to know. He'd accepted that some things couldn't be changed.
But if Tempus had killed his wife …
If he, Clark, were any sort of man, he had to find out.
He couldn’t let this rest - not as he had let so much rest in the past.
But he was stranded in Africa with no way back.
Should he try? Should he get whatever information he could from Matymbou and Romaric, pack food and water, and set out with the intention of returning to Metropolis and discovering what had happened to his wife?
It would mean leaving Lois.
Clark groaned softly.
He should do as he had done so many times before … let it rest. Leave it. Allow evil to continue because no one was willing to stand in defence of good.
He should accept the life he had been offered - here, with Lois.
He should. He had to. He owed it to Lois.
But Lana had been his wife. He had promised her his love and faithfulness. His protection.
He needed somewhere to be alone. Somewhere to think. Somewhere to process the ramifications of the new and alarming possibilities that were clunking through his mind and stabbing his conscience.
Clark slipped through the darkness and out of the village.
He turned towards the quarantine area.
He heard footsteps ahead. He stopped. He listened. He peered through the dimness.
"Kent?" The voice cut through the rustle of leaves.
"Romaric?"
"Yes. I have the celebration okapi. We will eat well tonight, my friend."
Romaric came into view, a long branch over his shoulder and the carcass of an antelope-like animal hanging from it.
"You said you wanted me to go hunting with you," Clark said.
"You were busy," Romaric replied. "There will be other times. Can you hold the other end of the branch? It's heavy."
Clark slipped his shoulder under the branch.
"I take it to the river to skin it," Romaric said. "Want to help?"
Working with Romaric would be better than skulking around the jungle in search of elusive answers to impossible questions. "Sure," Clark said.
"Let's go then. We have a village to feed."
~|^|~
Lois awoke slowly, content to allow the languid grasp of sleep drain away before she leapt into the new day.
It was so nice to awaken and not be immediately besieged with worries about Rolle. The baby had been safely birthed, the mother was recovering well, and the Bangala people had secured another step into the future.
Kent had kissed her. He said he loved her. He'd said it over and over again, as if repeating it had helped him accept that it was true. That it was OK for him to have those feelings.
As Lois had watched him hold Martha, she'd experienced a wildly contradictory mesh of reaction. Joy at seeing his progress in gaining freedom from the past. Pain at knowing that his future would never include a child of his own.
He'd been born to be a father.
They had Diddi, Lois reminded herself.
She sat up in bed and picked up her book and pencil for the first time in a couple of days. Sylva had asked when she might have another chapter for them, and her inquiry had turned Lois's thoughts to the world of her characters.
She hadn't planned for George and Nelda to have a child, but perhaps she could bring an emotional storm into their lives and have it evolve into a steamy night of passion.
From there, Nelda could get pregnant. How would Nelda and George cope with that?
She held the pencil poised as the scene materialised in her head. Nelda telling George about the baby. How would George react? Would he be pleased? Excited? Ecstatic? Angry? Disappointed?
Lois scribbled down a couple of lines - just notes really - to help solidify her ideas.
Her mind wandered … back to the quarantine area.
Kent's kiss had been swift … as if his control had finally shattered.
His mouth on hers, ragged and desperate, had been electrifying.
The more she thought about it - and she had thought about it a lot - the more she regretted mentioning a waiting time of two months.
Two months.
That would very likely drive her crazy with want.
What had she been thinking?
She knew what she had been thinking. She'd been trying to convince herself that Kent still considered himself a married man and time - her lifelong nemesis - was actually her greatest ally.
But …
Kent's kiss had spurred something to life inside her. It had reminded her what it was to be a woman. Reminded her that her heart and her body needed a mate.
He loved her. He'd said so.
And Lois had never loved anyone more.
~|^|~
After bathing and dressing, Lois checked on the new family and found them well rested and in good health. Kito was in grave danger of bursting with pride, but his wife and daughter were gaining strength with every passing hour.
Lois was smiling as she left their hut. Kent wasn't in the carpentry hut or the hut he shared with Tsumbu.
"Lois?"
She turned at the sound of Matymbou's voice. "Matty." She gave him a hug. "How's married life?"
"Wonderful," he said. "Gislane is much woman."
Lois patted his arm. "I'm so pleased for you and Gislane. It's lovely to see you happy."
They walked to a quiet corner, out of the way of the men bringing wood to fuel the fire under the roaster.
"I miss you, Lois," Matymbou said. "I feel as if we haven't talked for a long time."
Lois chuckled. "Well, you've been getting married and I've been birthing a baby."
"And Kent? Have you been spending time with him?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And maybe time is all we need to be able to reasonably assume his marriage is over."
Matymbou's brow creased. "You think there is no chance his wife will try to find him?"
"No chance at all."
Matymbou scratched his head. "You didn't know him back there?"
Lois chuckled. "No. He is from a different state. A different tribe. He lived a long way from where I lived."
"You and he look not different."
"He's American, as I was American. But our homeland is huge, Matty; bigger than you can ever imagine."
"You once told me it takes one hundred days to cross your country."
"I did? I think it would take more than that if you were walking."
Matymbou shook his head. "That's a very big village."
Lois nodded. "There's nothing to worry about with Kent. It's just coincidence that two Americans came to the Bangala."
"No," Matymbou said, shaking his head. "I pray for a man for you. God led him here."
"Thank you for praying," Lois said. "God has given me a wonderful man."
Matymbou pointed upwards. "The sun will cross the sky, Lois," he said. "You can't push it, but when you look up, it's moved. That's how it will be for you and Kent."
Lois hugged him again. "Thank you, Matty."
"Come and drink coffee with me before the celebration meal tonight."
"I will," Lois promised as she looked around the village. "Have you seen Kent? He's not with Clyde."
"He is helping Romaric take the skin from the antelope."
"Oh," Lois said, a little surprised and a lot pleased that the men were together. "That's good."
"Hey, Lois?"
She spun around at the sound of Kito's call. "Yes, Kito?" she said, hurrying over to him. "Is anything wrong?"
"No wrong. Rolle is feed Martha. She want you see … is good."
With a wave to Matymbou, Lois followed Kito into his hut, but her thoughts were down at the river with two men whose friendship she hoped would further ensconce Kent into the Bangala.
