Lois sat down across from her agent’s desk, wondering why he’d insisted on this meeting. Like every author, she’d followed the sales figures released by Putnam and tracked how well her books were doing. Wanda Detroit had hit some kind of nerve among both mystery fans and casual readers of fiction, and she was working on the treatment for the next novel now.
Maybe that’s what Brad wanted to talk about. Kenneth and Carl – she’d renamed the Kent and Clark characters as fast as her fingers could activate the global search-and-replace option in her word processor – had begun the first book competing for Wanda’s affections and had progressed to almost enemies in the second. She wasn’t sure what to do with that dynamic, even though it seemed that the relationship triangle was one of the big selling points. Many of the critics had identified Wanda’s dilemma as the driving force of the romantic side of the mysteries.
But it was time to find out why she was here.
Brad Thompson, followed by his assistant Maya, both breezed into the office wearing huge smiles. Brad sat in his chair while Maya set out a bowl of grapes, coffee, a small plate of sweet rolls, and a transparent carafe of orange juice. She silently offered Lois a glass, which Lois declined.
“Anything else?”
“No thanks, Maya.”
“Tummy upset?”
Lois smiled at her. “No. I’m not having as much morning sickness with this baby. I’m just not hungry right now.”
“Okay, Ms. Lane. It’s there if you want it. And no cyanide in it, I promise.”
She giggled as she trotted out of the room. Lois looked at her agent. “Cyanide?”
Brad shook his head. “Last Wanda book, remember? Maya really liked the surprise of the cyanide in the OJ and how Wanda refused to drink it even after she got the confession unless the bad guy drank some too. Would you rather have a grape or two?” As Lois shook her head ‘no,’ he said, “I’m pretty sure I can get Maya to scare up some yogurt if you want some.”
“No thanks, Brad. I just want you to tell me what this meeting is about.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I thought you already knew.”
“Nope.” Then a horrible notion sneaked into Lois’ mind. “Tell me Putman isn’t dropping me!”
“What? No! No, absolutely not! Where did you get that evil thought?”
“Nothing, never mind.” She blew a breath out her nose in frustration. “So why am I here?”
“Ah. I have good news.” He turned in his chair and picked up a folder from the desk behind him. “First thing, the second book, ‘The Pigeon Coos At Midnight,’ has hit the Daily Planet best-seller list.”
“So did ‘Birds Of A Feather Die Together.’ That’s good news, but I can’t say I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Ah,” he smiled, “I see you’re watching your sales figures!”
“Doesn’t every author?”
“Every author I’ve ever dealt with does. They even check magazine sales if they’ve got an interview or an article being published that month, although I don’t pay much attention to those even if they do pay real money. They’re blips on the radar, not long-term trends.”
“Fair enough. So I’m going to be on the best-seller list again? Why is that so significant?”
“Because, my dear hot new property, you are going to open at number nine. ‘Feather’ never made it past seventeen.”
“But it was on the list for thirteen weeks.”
“Yes, and that’s why Putnam is rolling the dice on a fifth printing of ‘Feather’ as a companion to ‘Pigeon.’ And there’s one more thing, too.”
“Well, tell me! Don’t keep me on tenterhooks!”
He looked at her for a moment as if puzzled, then smiled widely. “I hope that phrase makes it into the new Wanda book. Do you have a title yet?”
“The working title is ‘Wanda’s Third Adventure.’ It’ll change before you see it, I promise. I also promise that Kenneth and Carl are going to save each other’s lives and become grudging friends.” She brushed her hair back with one hand. “That will make it even harder for Wanda to choose between them. I think it sets up the resolution in the last book very well.”
“Well, Lois, you have a great incentive to come up with a good title and to keep that relationship dynamic going. Putnam wants to extend Wanda from four titles to ten.”
Lois’ eyes widened and her mouth went slack. “T-ten titles? You’re kidding, right?”
Impossibly, Brad’s smile grew even larger. “I never kid about such things. They want to increase your advance by thirty percent and get you to commit to a total of ten Wanda mysteries in the next twelve years.” He pulled a contract out of the pile of papers he was holding. “Here’s a copy of the contract. As usual, you’ll want your lawyer to look it over before you put your name on the dotted line. And as a bonus, I’ve negotiated a nice perk for you.”
She shook her head. “There’s more? What’s the perk?”
“You’ll like this. You have the option to give them three non-fiction titles of your choosing, subject to editorial review, of course. And they know you’re having another baby – because I practically screamed the news at them – so you get a total of one year of maternity slack in this schedule. If you want to delay any title, you can, as long as no publication date has been officially announced.”
A monster grin grew on her face. “Brad, if I wasn’t already married, I think I’d kiss you!” She stood and shook his hand. “Thank you so very much for all your hard work for me.”
“Don’t forget about my agent’s commission, Lois. That’s what keeps me in business. Besides, you’re a professional, and you’re very easy to work with. You wouldn’t believe how some writers turn into whining toddlers when they get one book in an editor’s hands, much less when they get a single volume published.”
“We’ve argued about things before.”
“We have. But they’ve always been about the books or the characters or the best way to style the writing, not about each other. I wish a third of my clients could be more like you.” He poured himself a glass of orange juice. “If they were, I’d have far less stress in my life, I wouldn’t have chronic pre-ulcer symptoms, and maybe this would be a screwdriver instead of the pure stuff from Florida.”
They shared a laugh, but it was a short one. Lois couldn’t wait to tell Clark her wonderful news.
****
Lois lay in the hospital bed, exhausted. This delivery had been longer and harder than the first one, and she barely had the strength to keep her eyes open. Bernie Klein and Burton Richards had just left the room. Both doctors had smiled and congratulated her on the birth of her beautiful baby girl. They had also told her in no uncertain terms that she’d come close to total liver failure over the previous two weeks. Both men had also insisted that, since Superman couldn’t have a vasectomy, she needed to get her tubes tied.
She was going to use some of that maternity slack in her publishing schedule after all.
Clark silently padded in and sat beside the bed. If he hadn’t blocked some of the dim light from the recessed wall fixtures, she wouldn’t have known he was there.
She reached in his direction. “Clark?” she croaked.
“I’m here, Lois. Your throat sounds dry. Would you like something to drink?”
She nodded and he moved. She took a long blink and a small cup of ice water materialized in front of her mouth. Her lips needed only to open to accept the end of the straw.
A long sip later, she felt slightly better. “What did Burt and Bernie tell you?”
He smiled. “That you’re going to be okay in a couple of weeks, and that our daughter is healthy and yelling her head off for her mommy.”
She smiled and took another long blink. “How’s Jon doing?”
“He’s fine. He’s with your dad. I think our son might become a doctor.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early for him to decide that?”
“Your dad doesn’t think so. He was grilling Jon on the central nervous system when I left them.”
Lois frowned. “Tell Daddy to stop that. Jon’s not quite four yet, too young to go to medical school.”
Clark shrugged. “I will if you really want me to, but it wasn’t your dad’s idea. It was Jon’s. That boy can barely say ‘medulla oblongata’ but he can tell you where it is, how big it is, and what it does.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Our son is a genius.”
She smiled in spite of her exhaustion. “He takes after you.”
“You, too. Of course, your father thinks Jon’s brilliance is from his grandparents on both sides. He and my dad are planning to take Jon fishing and to a couple of museums while you’re recovering.”
“Oh?” she breathed. “And who’s taking care of little Marta JoAnne?”
“Her grandmothers, of course. They’re at the nursery window drooling over her. They both keep picking out features they say are from each other, and when my mom reminds your mom that I’m adopted, your mom insists that I must have absorbed their DNA through my mom’s cooking. Marta couldn’t be in better hands. Unless those hands were yours, of course.”
She reached out and entwined her fingers with his. “Thank you, darling. How long do they say I’ll be here?”
“Burton says three or four days, maybe one or two more. Bernie agrees. They want to make sure your liver doesn’t go on strike again.”
“Yuck. I don’t want that either. Dialysis is four hours of no fun at all and it doesn’t take care of all the problems. It hurts, too, no matter what they say.”
He smiled and gently patted her arm. “Oh, I almost forgot. Brad came by with the news that ‘The Hawk Circles at Dusk’ is number twenty-one on the Planet’s best-seller list and climbing fast. He told me that your difficult pregnancy has helped boost Wanda Detroit’s sales, and that if you pull a publicity stunt like this again he’ll clobber you himself.”
She almost laughed. “That’s Brad. And that’s good news. Did he mention the Luthor biography? What do the editors at Putnam think?”
“He said, so far so good, and he thinks they’ll publish it as soon as you can finish it.”
She yawned. “Oh! It’s pretty close do finished now, but they’re going to have to wait a bit. I want to enjoy my family for several months, at least.”
“Yeah.” He averted his eyes for a long breath, then looked back at her with a firm expression. “Burton and Bernie also said that you need to slow down. Not just a little, either. Part of the stress you put on your liver came from the on-site research you did for Luthor’s biography, and part of it for that other book you’re working on, the one about the fallen athletes and their broken families. You have to dial it way back.”
Her voice came out sharper than she’d intended. “That story needs to be told, Clark. People need to know how devastating drugs and alcohol and sudden wealth can be to the innocents involved. If I can save one family from coming apart under that stress, it’ll be worth it.”
Clark’s eyes narrowed. “Not if we lose you.”
She tried to compose a suitable response but realized she didn’t have the energy, so she decided to put off the discussion until later. “Okay, fine, I’ll slow down. But I’m the best judge of how much I back off, not you.”
He shrugged. “Maybe the rest of my news will be more pleasant.”
“Can’t be much less pleasant.”
She saw that her words hurt him, but he didn’t pursue the subject. “In addition to winning my third Kerth last month, I have a new job. A new job title, actually. You are now married to the online editor for the Daily Planet.”
Her smile was genuine. “Really? Clark, that’s wonderful! When do you start? Officially, I mean.”
“As soon as I get you back home and settled in with Marta. A month, maybe less. Perry told me that technology changes, but the truth doesn’t, and that’s what I’m going to put on my office wall so all of my underlings can see it and fear me.”
“Fear you?” she snorted. “You couldn’t scare a mouse. They’ll walk all over you and you’ll smile at them while they do it.”
“Not if I tell them that I’ll send you to see them if they don’t behave.”
She glared at him for a second, then grabbed her stomach and laughed aloud.
He cleared his throat. “I have one more question for you, and this is not me trying to make a decision for you, okay? I’m only asking because I need to know.”
She took another long sip of water and handed him the cup. “I’m sorry. I’ll treat it like a request for information which may or may not generate follow-up questions.”
His soft chuckle warmed her heart. “Thank you. Now, I know that both Burton and Bernie suggested that you get your tubes tied because mine are harder to snip. Have you had a chance to think about that suggestion?”
“Yes. And I think it’s a good idea. I already love little Marta so much, and I wouldn’t trade her or Jon for anything, but this was really hard. And it hurt a lot more than the first delivery.”
“So, no more children for Clark Kent and Lois Lane?”
She hunted for his hand with hers and found it. “I think we’ve gotten our quota of joy, don’t you?”
He lifted her hand to his lips and held it there for a long kiss. “I didn’t think I could be happier than the day we married. But now we have two wonderful, beautiful children, and you did such a great job bringing them into the world. I doubt that any man could ever be more blessed than I am right now.”
She felt sleep tugging at her mind, but she fought it off for the moment. “Even with all the wonderful things Superman can do, that’s what you treasure the most, isn’t it? Having a family. Loving and being loved. You were right.”
“About what?”
The call of the land of Nod was irresistible now, but she needed to say one more thing. “When you told me that Superman was what you do but Clark Kent was who you are.” A deep breath escaped and she could barely form the next words. “And I love who you are.”
The world faded away. As if from a great distance, Clark’s voice came to her ears. “And I love you too, Lois.”
“We’re – we’re making some – some great moments, aren’t we?”
“Wonderful ones. Simply wonderful. Moments that make up a great life.”
She drifted off wearing a soft smile.
*****
Just before Marta turned five, Perry finally retired for good. Clark slipped into the general editor’s chair as if he’d been born to it. Even though his management style was softer and gentler than Perry’s thunder and bluster, he got similar results. Of course, he always had the threat of a visit from the Mad Dog in his back pocket.
Jimmy, who had become the Planet’s Chief Information Technology Officer, married one of the Planet’s staff writers and settled down into domesticity as if born to it. Darla Peters-Olsen had proven herself to be a solid reporter and an excellent wife, keeping Jimmy on the straight and narrow and guiding him to handle their money like a pro. Jimmy even took over the Kents’ retirement planning, and all of them grew their net worth as if it were kudzu. Neither the Kents nor the Olsens were mind-bogglingly rich, but neither would they lack for material goods. And the two couples became fast friends.
Unlikely as it had seemed when Clark and Lois first met, Lucy became a Tony-nominated stage actress who built a reputation for being on time, always knowing her lines, working well with other actors and most directors, and never being a diva. She accomplished the difficult feat of separating her job from her life, and she never appeared on any of the celebrity ambush shows or the police blotter. Jimmy also took over handling her finances, and before she was thirty she was a millionaire.
*****
Lois walked in the front door from her latest book signing tour and wondered where the family was. “Hello?” she called.
Ten-year-old Jon appeared on the upstairs landing and waved to her. “Hi, Mom! I’m glad you’re home!” He bounded down the stairs and jumped at her as if to hug her, but then he stopped and slowly floated to the floor.
Her jaw hit her chest and she dropped her suit bag. “Jon! You – you’re flying!”
His grin widened until it almost split his face. “Not quite. It’s more like falling in slow motion.” He jumped up and spun half a dozen times as he floated back down. “Or falling with style.”
She laughed. “That’s wonderful! I’m sure your father is thrilled.”
He grimaced at her. “Not so much, really. You should have heard all the rules he laid down for me.”
She reached out and embraced her son, then kissed his forehead. “They’re for your own good and you know it. Speaking of your father, where is he?”
Jon motioned with his head. “He’s upstairs with Mart. She’s all broken up about a grade she got on a test.”
“Really? Why? Are you sure it’s the grade, or is she feeling like the baby in the class again?”
“No, Mom, it’s not because she’s two years younger than any of her classmates. Besides, you know I’d take care of it if any of them were to pick on her.”
“Okay, I’ll go check it out. But how hard can a third-grade test be?”
“You’ll have to talk to her about it. And remember that she’s just seven.”
“Almost eight, remember?”
“Go on up, Mom. My sister needs her mommy.”
Lois nodded and walked up the steps. She was tired and hungry and so very glad to be home, but she missed her family and Brad was going to have to cut back on the signings. She understood going to Los Angeles and Dallas and Chicago, but some of those cities weren’t big enough to justify her time and effort. Of course, Brad was right when he told her that the smaller cities rarely got famous authors on their tours, so she was picking the low-hanging fruit whenever she went to Lawton, Oklahoma, or Minot, North Dakota, or Burns, Oregon. Every one of the stores in the smaller towns had sold out of their current stock of ‘Track of the Snowbird,’ Wanda’s seventh adventure, and only one hadn’t sold out of all the copies of her previous books as well.
She reached the top of the stairs and felt unusually out of breath. She was probably extra tired because of the book signing trip, she thought. Maybe she should tell Burton about it.
Or maybe not. She didn’t want him to worry about her too much.
As she approached Marta’s room, she heard the girl’s soft sobs and the low hum of her husband’s voice. She pushed the door open and stood there for a long moment, just watching her husband hold their young daughter in his lap and drinking in the sight.
She was so tired. And hungry. And so desperately glad to be home.
But couldn’t rest just yet. It was time to be Mom again.
“Hi,” she whispered. She knew Clark would hear her but was surprised when Marta jumped up, ran to her, and plastered herself to Lois’ legs.
“Momma, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll do better, I promise!”
Lois peeled Marta off her slacks and knelt down in front of her. “Baby girl, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Between sobs, Marta said, “I – I took a test and – and it was world history and – I got mixed up on when the French Revolution happened and – and I missed a question and got a 95!” She threw herself into her mother’s arms and held on for dear life. “Oh, Momma, I’m so sorry!”
Lois gently pulled her back to look at Marta’s face. “Honey, you got a 95 on a test? That’s wonderful! You did very well! You have no reason to be sorry. So why are you crying?”
“Be-because I – I wanted to make you p-proud of me! And I didn’t!”
Lois slowly knelt and enfolded Marta in her arms. “Baby girl, did you do your very best?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Did you study hard?”
“I studied with Daddy and I got everything right but I got mixed up and—”
“Shh, shh.” Lois stroked her soft blonde hair and signaled Clark for a handkerchief. “Let’s dry your eyes and get you to stop crying because you didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I’m very proud of you.”
Marta stared at her mother with unbelieving eyes. “But – but I didn’t get a hundred percent! How can you be proud of me if I don’t get a hundred percent? Grandpa Lane says he’s proud of Jon when he gets a hundred percent!”
“Oh, sweetie, I’ve always been proud of you! And I always will be. You don’t have to do anything to get me to be proud of you or to love you. You’re my very bestest little girl in the whole universe and I will always love you and be proud of you.”
“But – I don’t understand. Jon always gets hundreds on his tests and you and Daddy always tell him how proud you are of him.”
“We are proud of him. We’re proud of both of you. But we’re not proud of you because of the grades you get. We’re proud of you because you’re doing your best.” She pulled Marta’s hair away from her face and dabbed at the girl’s eyes. “If you did your very, very best, you studied hard and worked hard, and you got a 75, we’d still be proud of you.”
“What? How could you be proud of a 75?”
Lois smiled and kissed Marta’s nose. “Because if that happened we’d know we were pushing you too hard and trying to get you to do things you weren’t ready to do. That would make it our fault, not yours. You have to remember that you’re two years ahead of everyone else your age, and you’re in the advanced section of your class. You’re doing so well that you’re almost perfect. Hey, did anyone get a hundred on the test?”
Marta’s tears had stopped and she took the handkerchief to blow her nose. “No. Sue Lin and I both got 95s and nobody beat us. And we missed different questions.”
“See? You’re in a difficult class, working hard and doing very well, and your father and I are proud of you.”
She almost smiled. “Daddy already told me that.”
“You should have believed him.”
“Yeah, but you know Daddy. He always makes everything sound positive. You tell the truth even when it hurts.” Marta’s expression suddenly changed and she grabbed Lois’ shoulders. “Momma, you need to lie down. Right now.”
“What for? I still have to greet your father and get unpacked and take a shower and—”
“No, Momma! You have to lie down! Daddy, come help her!”
Lois would have protested further, but she noticed that the edges of her vision were graying out and Marta’s voice had moved far away from her. It was easier to let Clark pick her up and lay her on Marta’s bed than to push him away and tell him she was fine.
The next thing she saw was her husband leaning over her face, gazing into her eyes with some real fear in his. She put her hands up to push him away, but he caught and held them. “Don’t try to get up, Lois. Marta went to get a glass of water.”
“Okay. Can I sit up when she gets back?”
“I don’t know—”
“Momma’s fine now, Daddy. She just needed to faint. Here’s your water.”
Lois couldn’t remember “needing to faint” before, but apparently Marta was right. Her vision and hearing were back to normal already. “Let me sit up, Clark. I don’t want to spill that water all over myself.”
She drank half the glass, paused to take a deep breath, then finished it. “Thank you, baby girl. I feel much better now.”
“Good. You need to go to sleep soon. And don’t get up to see us off to school tomorrow. You need your rest.”
Lois glared at Marta. “We’re getting a little bossy, aren’t we?”
“No. I just know that’s what you need.” She gently hugged her mother and kissed her on the nose. “And I understand what you meant. You’re telling me I don’t have to be perfect for you to love me.”
The glare softened to a warm smile. “That’s exactly right, baby girl.” Lois ruffled Marta’s hair. “Hey, how did you know I was about to faint? I thought your brother was going to be the doctor in the family.”
“He is. But I just knew.”
“How did you know?”
“I just knew in my head. Something told me you were going to faint.”
Lois glanced over her head at Clark, who shrugged as if puzzled.
Clark leaned close and hugged both Lois and Marta. “You know, it’s getting late, and it’s about time my two favorite girls in all the world went to sleep. I’m going to take Mommy to our room and get her tucked into bed, then come back and make sure my favorite third-grader gets all the sweet dreams she can handle. Marta, how about you give your mother her goodnight hug and kiss now?”
Clark’s “girls” embraced tightly. “Momma, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, baby girl. What is it?”
Marta pulled back and looked into her mother’s eyes. “I don’t want you to get upset, and I know you’re doing it because you love me, but can you not call me ‘baby girl’ from now on? I’m almost eight and I’m getting kinda too big for a baby name.”
A wave of emotion broke over Lois’ heart. It was a roiling stew of thrill and pride and sadness, along with the recognition that her little girl was starting to grow up. She’d known it would happen someday, but she wasn’t ready for it.
She steeled herself and smiled. “Of course, Marta. What do you want me to call you?”
Marta’s face twisted into a very adult frown. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it and get back to you.” She wrapped her still-young arms around her mother’s neck. “Good night, Mom. Get some good sleep.”
Clark swept Lois up in his arms and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll carry you to bed.”
“Oh, I love a man with a smooth line and big muscles.”
Marta made a gagging noise and grumped, “If Daddy wasn’t already taking you to bed, Mom, I’d ask you two to get a room.”
“You’re just jealous because I have such a good husband.”
“Yeah, well my daddy is the best daddy in the whole world!”
Lois laughed at the old banter. “Can’t argue with that. I’ll see you tomorrow when you get home from school, big girl.”
“Okay, Mom. Good night.”
As Clark pushed the bedroom door open, he smiled at Lois. “This was a good mommy moment for you, honey.”
“No.” She shook her head and stroked his hair. “It was a good moment for all of us.”
He laid her atop the comforter and slipped her shoes off. “I agree, but the moment I need now is the one where I watch you fall asleep and wake up tomorrow all refreshed and ready to sleep some more.”
She chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, mister, but I’ll take that deal. Will you bring me my yellow PJs?”
“Of course. And I’ll help you change into them, too.”
She reached out to run her hand over his chest. “How about you wake me up tomorrow morning and help me change out of them then?”
“That’s a deal, as long as we make that an early afternoon appointment. I want you to rest. And I don’t want you working on anything for the next twenty-four hours, okay?”
She sat up to unbutton her blouse. “You’re a cruel taskmaster and a mean old man. I’ll do it, but only because you asked so nicely. Wait, that won’t interfere with the Planet, will it?”
“As long as no one declares nuclear war, Superman is taking the next two days off. And Clark Kent is working from home. I’ve already alerted Clyde and Bonnie that they’re in charge until Thursday.”
She shivered. “I still can’t get past those names. They give me the chills every time I hear them.”
He grinned and unfolded her pajama top. “I’m sure the Bennetts and the Powells didn’t intend to make us uncomfortable. Clyde Bennett and Bonnie Powell are both hard-working, dedicated, skilled, and happily married to other people. And we don’t have any Depression-era Ford roadsters parked at the paper.”
“Good. Now if you’ll help me get these slacks off, I’ll go brush my teeth and get in bed like a good little girl.”
“There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”
She stopped and gave him a seductive smile. “Put a bookmark in it, Farm Boy. I’ll be here all week.”
He bent down to kiss her gently. “And I’ll be here as long as I live.” After another kiss, he whispered, “That’s not a contest, it’s a promise.”
Sudden tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “I know. I love you, Clark Kent.”
He helped her stand, then wrapped his still-massive arms around her. “I know. I love you too, Lois Lane-Kent.”
She hoped the dreams she knew she’d have tonight would approach the reality of their time together tomorrow.
Last edited by Terry Leatherwood; 01/05/15 04:50 AM. Reason: spellcheck
