Description: Sequel to
The Letter. Superman has taken to heart some of the things Lois said in her letter. What will happen when one of Lucy's granddaughters turns up to contest part of Aunt Lois' will?
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Chapter 3Lauren stood at the door, ready to knock. She didn't know why she was nervous. She'd been around so many times over the last two months - since those first few visits. Her job required her to review restaurants, and eating establishments, on a regular basis, and that traditionally happened in an evening. But otherwise … almost every free evening was spent in this apartment. Yet somehow, sometime along the way, she'd stopped visiting to be reminded of Aunt Lois, and started visiting to spend time with Clark Jonson. In fact,
he was now her best friend. And so … she was nervous.
It didn't help that he was mind-numbingly gorgeous.
Aunt Lois' Clark had been gorgeous too. She'd said so on a couple of occasions. Lauren had teased her about being in love with her 'drop-dead gorgeous' partner. Aunt Lois had cried, shouted and nearly thrown her out, and Lauren had never used that term again.
But it was true. Aunt Lois had definitely been in love with Clark Kent. And he'd died. She had regretted missing out on a life with Clark for the rest of her own life. But it was the only thing she let herself regret. She'd made sure that every other part of her life was full of love, full of rewarding relationships … and without regret.
And that was why Lauren would find the courage to do this. No regrets. And if she turned around and walked away, just because she'd realised last night that she was in love, then that would definitely become a regret.
She knocked as confidently as she could.
The door opened only moments later and she looked up into the beautiful face of her best friend. He was wearing faded blue jeans and an extremely tight black t-shirt. On most occasions that she had visited he had been in reasonably smart, but casual, clothes. Once or twice he'd been in a suit, but with the tie discarded … somewhere. A few times he'd been as relaxed as this. But never before had she seen … in such clear detail … the contours of his biceps and chest. She caught her breath immediately.
"Lauren," he smiled. "I hoped you might pop over tonight. I was thinking of watching a movie. Come on in." Clark nodded to the side and then moved to let her in. As she followed she let out the breath and managed to keep from fainting through loss of oxygen.
"What did you have in mind?" she called as Clark walked away, heading for the kitchen.
"Well, if you hadn't come I was thinking of some kind of action. Maybe a cop movie, or spy." Clark came back from the kitchen holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. He raised them in question and she nodded. "But we can log into InstaWatch and take a look. I don't mind a comedy or something like that, if that's your preference."
Lauren settled herself into the couch, her favourite spot, after removing her jacket. When Clark perched next to her she knew her heart skipped a beat but he just reached over to the coffee table and placed down the bottle and glasses. "Uh, I don’t mind the action movie. I used to watch them all the time with Aunt Lois. I think her crush on Mel Gibson rubbed off on me. Lethal Weapon is one of my favourites. And I'm hopelessly in love." She widened her eyes. "With Mel, that is," she quickly added.
"Mel Gibson? Really?" Clark turned to look at her in shock. His face clearly displayed his surprise at her statement. "I can't believe that."
"Why not? Why shouldn't I like him? Mel Gibson was a superb actor, as well as being incredibly sexy."
"I'm not disputing that, just saying that women of your age are usually more into Louis Schwarzenegger, or Gary Windsor Evans."
"What do you mean 'of my age'. You sound like my grandfather." Lauren frowned at him, pretending to be a little offended.
"What?" Clark's eyes widened and his face paled. She watched as his throat bobbed up and down.
"Well, you are the same generation as me. It was a strange phase to use."
"Whatever made you think I was the same generation as you?" Clark grinned, the colour back in his face. He turned and began to peel at the foil surrounding the wine cork. His teasing always made her grin, uncontrollably, and this was no exception.
"What generation are you from, if not mine. Come on Clark. You look around thirty two, thirty three."
"And that would be your generation because …?" He trailed away and raised his eyebrows just as the cork popped on the wine bottle.
"Thirty," she replied shyly.
Clark poured the wine into the two glasses and then slid back into the couch, getting comfy. Lauren reached for her wine and then did the same.
"T.V. on," Clark spoke into the small remote he had picked up. After a second the monitor on the far wall sprung to life. "InstaWatch."
While the system processed Clark's requests, Lauren took a sip of the deep red wine. Pictures flickered across the screen randomly, then finally settled on a shot of a man running down a city block, gun in one hand and cop badge held out in the other.
"So, Mel Gibson? Or are you up for something more … contemporary?" Clark looked at her, waiting.
"You really think I should be into Louis Schwarzenegger?"
"Or Gary Windsor Evans," Clark reminded her.
"Oh, pulease. He is such an arrogant jerk. Just because he looks like the reincarnation of James Dean, and claims to be British royalty, and managed to snag Jessica Jones after they stared in
From Heaven With Love. If I was going to crush on anyone contemporary it would be …" She let her words trail off as she racked her brains. Who did she like? Which actors drew her to a film, even if she might not have liked it otherwise? "Timothy Clooney."
"Really?" Clark's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, clearly shocked at her choice of actor.
"Or that guy who's made a living out of playing Superman … Devon Cain. He's dreamy."
"Yeah, I guess he's on most women's list." Clark sounded a little uncomfortable.
"Just like Superman himself, eh?" She smiled, envisioning Superman standing in front of her, smiling back. "His dad played Clark Kent in
The Resurrection of Al Capone, you know."
Clark had his wine glass to his lips and he began coughing. Sitting up straight he leaned forward to place down his glass. A final cough cleared the liquid from his throat. "Uh, no. I didn't know that. I've never watched it."
"Ahhh. Aunt Lois hasn't … hadn't either." Lauren still made rare mistakes with the tenses she used when mentioning Aunt Lois, but it didn't automatically result in a crying fit anymore.
"So … have we chosen?" Clark seemed awfully quiet, and strangely embarrassed. "I have been wanting to watch the new James Bond."
"Oh. Um, sure. I guess that would be okay. I've heard that Stuart Edwards is hilarious as the new Q."
"James Bond," Clark spoke clearly into his hand-held remote. "Yeah," he turned away from the remote to reply to Lauren. "I've heard that too."
The screen was suddenly filled with still shots and titles of many James Bond films. Lauren scooted forward on the couch to take a closer look, but got distracted by a reflection on the coffee table in front of her. "Oh, Clark. You spilled some wine when you had that coughing fit." She stood, forcefully. "I'll go get a cloth to wipe it up."
"No, it's okay. It's my apartment. I should …" but Lauren was already in the kitchen.
Clark sighed. As always, an evening with Lauren was a combination of funny, embarrassing, manic, happy, relaxing, sad, wistful and utterly mortifying for him. Luckily she didn't notice the embarrassment, or know his reason for it; usually some reference to Clark Kent, or Superman. That conversation had been the worst so far, managing to link Clark Kent to Superman in two easy steps. He groaned and dropped his head, resting it in his palms.
"Oh hey, this cabinet is new," Lauren called from behind.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to put it together and get out all my books for weeks." He lifted his head and then noticed the moment her heart rate changed. There was a shocked intake of breath and he immediately suspected what she'd seen. His heart began to pound.
"You have her books." Her voice was a shocked whisper.
"Huh?" he effected casually and turned to look over the back of the couch.
"Aunt Lois. You have her books. The
Wanda Detroit series. Joanne Kent was her pseudonym."
"Really?" Clark squeaked out, not at all managing to sound casual. He turned back around and reached for his wine hoping that this would distract her from her current subject.
Lauren turned from the bookcase and returned to the couch. Using the cloth in her hand she wiped the splash of red wine from the table and then held it out for Clark to wipe the bottom of his glass. She sat down and then reached for her own wine. "I've read them five times." She shuffled back into place, cradling the glass in her hands, and to her chest. "I'm presuming you've read them. They look read, rather than new. Although I guess someone could have given them to you in that condition. You seem the kind to enjoy reading, though, and your shelves look to be full of all kinds of books."
"I've read them," he interrupted, trying to cut off her babbling.
"Good." She smiled at him. "Do you have a favourite? I do. I love the second book. When Wanda is falling in love and finally realising that her best friend is her soulmate." She took a sip of the wine and leaned back, closing her eyes. "I could tell that from the first book though. I think it was the scene where he saves her from Mr. Chameleon."
Clark took another gulp of wine. His heart was racing. He hoped desperately that his trembling fingers wouldn't cause another spillage. Clark had read the books, a few times. The growing relationship between Wanda and Charlie had so clearly mirrored himself and Lois in the first book. But it had become clear that he'd read too much into that when the two had, happily, got together in the second book.
"Um, I think I like the fourth book best." His reply, although truthful in some respect, was also a lie from another viewpoint. "The closeness, the love and trust between Wanda and Charlie, is what I always imagined marriage to be like, but it hadn't dulled their lives either." Still, knowing that he could never have that, and it was just a fantasy, meant that he sometimes preferred the first book … knowing that it really was
him in that book. But only that book. Once the second book came along … Charlie was no longer 'Clark'.
Because Clark died. And Charlie didn't.
"You know, I often wondered if they were autobiographical. Wanda seems so like Aunt Lois." Lauren trailed her finger around the top of her glass. "She claimed not … said it was definitely all fantasy … in her mind." She dipped her finger into the red liquid, absent-mindedly, and then lifted it to her lips. Sucking off the liquid she then dropped her hand, swirling her glass around with the other. "I think I figured it out once, though. It was both. She used these books to live the life that she'd really wanted with Clark."
Clark paused. His heart had ceased beating. Lois had wanted
that life, with him. He took a breath then reached out to drop the cloth, which was still in his hand, onto the table. He knew that Lauren was right. Recalling Lois' letter to him, which had revealed her love for him, and her knowledge of his other life, it was clear now. Wanda and Charlie really was … Lois and Clark.
He struggled to think, tears forming in his eyes. Thankfully Lauren stood and picked up the cloth then walked away again. He put down his wine and then held his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. "Pull yourself together, Clark," he muttered to himself, "before your guest sees, and wonders why the heck you are crying and shaking."
"Have you found it?" Lauren called from the kitchen. Clark looked up, shocked out of his sadness. A quick swipe of his cheeks revealed no evidence of his feelings.
"Um, no. Give me a minute."
"Okay."
Clark picked up the remote and tried to steady his breathing before speaking any further instructions into the device.
"I'm just gonna …" Clark looked up to see Lauren standing at the end of the couch. She was nodding with her head in the direction of his bathroom. "I'm gonna … you know. Just be a sec. Okay?"
"Sure." Clark turned back to the TV and scrutinised the pictures that were displayed.
In the bathroom Lauren washed her hands, dried them on Clark's masculine dark grey towels, then looked up to assess her countenance in the mirror. A little smudge of makeup was visible over her left eye so she used her middle finger to smooth it. A funny wisp of hair was stuck up at the back of her parting so she ran the cold tap and grabbed a couple of drops of water on her fingers then attempted to encourage it into place. Straightening her top, once done, she gave herself a smile and then nodded her head, ready to go back out to Clark.
Watching a movie was probably the best thing that could have happened tonight. There was a chance she could manoeuvre his arm around her, and a snuggle, especially if it was an action movie, with explosions. Tonight could be the start of things. Good things. Exciting things.
She grinned and stepped back out of the bathroom heading for the living area. She passed the new bookshelf, but from this angle she could see that the books were actually shifted forwards and there was a space behind them. A section of shelf was hidden. Immediately curious, Lauren craned her neck to see over the books.
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth in shock to see a familiar glass award. Aunt Lois had won dozens of them, most kept hidden away, with a couple displayed … in a similar kind of shelf. Lauren frowned and reached to push the books to one side. Clark had said he was a children's book editor, so he was clearly in the writing profession. Possibly that was a new thing and he'd been in journalism until recently. A tingle started at the top of her spine. Clark … journalist. It was just a spooky coincidence. The books moved and she peered through the gap to read the inscription on the Kerth Award.
Clark Kent.
She stumbled backwards. Whirling round she stared into the living area, and the man sitting on the couch, facing away from her and fumbling with his TV remote. The latest James Bond film popped up on screen and Clark called out. "Found it." He didn't turn. Lauren breathed a sigh of relief. If he had, he would have probably seen the whitest face ever, surrounded by jet black hair, mouth wide open. She turned back to the shelf and replaced the books; Aunt Lois' books.
On shaky legs she returned to the couch. The wine waited for her on the table. The couch waited for her, comfy and inviting. She could sit back down, and hope that Clark would snuggle up to her. She could reach for the glass and then gulp the whole lot down in one swallow. That seemed like a good idea.
She stood at the edge of the couch but was unable to move any further.
"Lauren," Clark turned and looked up at her. "Everything all right?" He stood and approached her, clearly concerned at whatever he saw on her face.
"I … I," she gazed into his eyes. Almost losing herself in their tender concern she swayed towards him. "I have to go. I'm sorry."
She reached for her bag and jacket, on the floor next to the couch, and then fled. She ignored Clark's calls of protest and ran for the elevator.
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