It was time to face the music, both figuratively and literally.
Clark could hear the sound system playing Garth Brooks’ “Working On a Full House” before they got out of the truck. He was sure Rachel could hear it before they got to the front door. She hesitated at the entrance and looked at him.
He hoped his smile was encouraging. “Come on, Rach, it’s okay. I promise I won’t let anyone cook and eat you.”
She chortled lightly and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sheriff of this here county, and none of them law-abiding citizens in there are gonna hurt me.”
“That’s the spirit.” He reached out and opened the entrance door for her.
For a moment he flashed on another difference between Lois and Rachel. Lois didn’t always wait for him to open the door for her, even if they were on a date. And sometimes when she waited, or when he just beat her to the door, she frowned at his courtesy. That usually happened when she was hyper-focused on the story she was working on, but those weren’t the only times she raced to be first to grab the doorknob. Rachel never acted as if it was her sovereign right for a man to open the door for her, and she always accepted the social grace with a smile.
He pushed the thought away. Even if the comparisons were valid, this was neither the time nor the place to make them.
She led him into the main meeting room, then she stopped in front of him. The room was decorated like a school dance, with bunting on the crossbeams and around all the tables. An enlarged photo of Mark Harris, in uniform, was propped on an easel behind a table to the left of the DJ setup.
On the table in front of the easel stood an upturned five-gallon water jug with the spout cut down for easier access. It was more than three-quarters full with envelopes, bills of varying denominations, and at least four inches of coin in the bottom, all shiny stuff with no hint of copper. Clark’s first thought was that nobody was going to try to steal something that heavy.
His next thought was how Metropolis his previous thought was. This was Smallville. Nobody’d dare to steal that money.
He smiled and stepped back from Rachel because people had started to mob her. Hugs and handshakes and smiles flew past her so quickly she didn’t seem to be registering all of them. Everyone’s voice competed with the others for her attention. Even the music faded to background sound as the DJ saw that he was no longer the center of attention.
After almost a full minute, Sam Kramer moved to her side, then held up his hand and said, “You folks quiet down now! Quiet down! All right, y’all listen up! As you all know, this gathering is in honor of retired sheriff Mark Harris. You all know about his car wreck a few days ago, that he’s hurt pretty bad but he’s now on the mend, and you also know his daughter was elected to take over as sheriff when Mark retired a few years back. What you may not know is that she’s been taking care of her parents and keeping the sheriff’s office running smoothly since she put on the badge, and it’s been a lot harder since Mark’s accident. She even saved her daddy’s life while he was in the hospital.”
The crowd burst into scattered applause and cheers. It took Sam another minute or so to calm them enough to hear him. “This young lady is a credit to her family, her profession, and to her neighbors, and this evening is a thank-you for all that the Harris family has done for the town of Smallville and the county of Everett.”
He paused as thunderous applause broke out around the building, then reached a crescendo that made Clark turn his hearing way down. Sam finally lifted his hand again. When the crowd quieted, he called out, “Every nickel in that water jug will go to the Harris family to help them defray expenses during this time of trial. And don’t expect any leniency from Sheriff Harris or her deputies because you contribute! In this county, if you do the crime, you’ll do the time. Our outstanding sheriff will make sure of that.” He paused and grinned widely. “No matter how much she’s wearing.”
The crowd burst out in laughter at the reference to Rachel’s cardiac massage of her father in her underwear. Naturally, she turned beet-red and shook her head. Her glance at Clark told him that while she could have gone all night without that reminder, it didn’t really bother her now. She handled the situation with real humility and aplomb and quiet confidence and he was proud of her.
Clark suddenly realized that he wasn’t upset with himself for feeling proud of Rachel. He decided to analyze his feelings later.
If at all.
The DJ, who seemed to be good at reading the room, cranked up Hank William’s “Jambalya” as the people started milling around. As the crowd slid back to open up a dance area, Rachel retreated to Clark’s side.
She looked up at him and shook her head. “Not at all what I expected.”
He smiled and said, “You handled it very well. Are you hungry, or would you prefer to dance?”
She gave him a crooked grin and put a hand to her stomach. “I’m hungry. Takes a lot of energy to accept all that adulation.”
*****
Rachel’s right hand held a hard plastic plate heavy with food, plastic dinnerware poked out of her shirt pocket, and a large plastic tumbler of icy carbonated diet something dampened her other hand with condensation. She looked for an open spot to sit and eat. She’d almost given up when Clark’s “Hssst!” in her ear got her attention. He gestured with his head. “I see two empty chairs on either side of an end table. I think they’re the best seats in the building.”
She looked, saw them, and mentally claimed them. “Come on!”
Her long strides brought her close to the chairs and to another partygoer headed for the same spot. She looked at the interloper and said, “Excuse me, I think I saw them before – Lana!”
Lana Lang’s eyes snapped up to Rachel’s face, then the shorter woman smiled. “Sorry, Rach. You and Clark go ahead. I’ll find another place.”
“Uh – well – maybe you—”
Lana shook her head. “Nope. I’ll grab another spot. You’re the guest of honor, girl. You take them.”
Rachel felt real affection for Lana in that moment. “Thank you. I don’t care what anyone says, you’re a nice person.”
Lana frowned for a moment as she digested Rachel’s response, then smiled like she’d swallowed a bug. “Yeah, don’t listen to the gossips. They have no idea what’s really going on.”
“Too true. Hey, really, thanks. Hope you find a good seat.”
“I will. Hey, Clark. Having a good time?”
From behind Rachel’s shoulder, she heard him say, “So far so good.”
Lana laughed and gestured with her glass, then turned away to continue her quest for seating. Rachel took the seat to the right of the small table and put her plate down. “You okay with that side, Clark?”
He lowered himself gracefully into the chair and put his glass down. “As long as I have a free hand to grab this fried chicken thigh, I’m good.”
She laughed and took a long drink, then unpacked her plasticware and set to work on her own plate. In the middle of Mrs. Peterson’s still-warm potato salad, she stopped and said, “This tastes great. I gotta ask her how she gets that sharp little bite in it.”
Clark smiled. “It’s a combination of cinnamon and some Cajun spices her cousin sends her from New Orleans every month. I don’t know the exact formula. Mrs. Peterson sends back fresh apple pies and potato salad. I think they enjoy trading recipes more than they enjoy eating the dishes they create.”
It amused her that he knew about the spices and wondered if it was his super-taste or just his Clark Kent charm that had garnered him that tidbit. Then she glanced at his plate and saw that his chicken thigh was already clean down to the bone. “Who made the chicken?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s good. I may go back for seconds.”
She forked up more potato salad as Sam Kramer walked by. “Howdy, Sheriff. You having a good time?”
Her fork paused until she answered. “Yes. And thank you again for putting this together, Sam. Y’all did a great job.”
A sneaky smile grew on his face. “Were you surprised?”
She chewed and swallowed, then took a drink to wash it down. “Very. I was expecting maybe fifteen or twenty people, but you must have three hundred folks in here. You’re lucky I ain’t the fire marshal or I’d have to count ‘em to see if you’ve exceeded the occupancy limit.”
“Chief Carson is here tonight. He’s already agreed to look the other way as long as everyone behaves.”
With her mouth now full, all Rachel could do was nod and chew.
Sam chuckled. “I told Tim Keller he should close his car lot and bring all his people here. He didn’t like the idea at first, but I pointed out that all of his customers would be here at the mixer instead of buying cars at his lot anyway. Staying open would just lose him money.”
She swallowed and grinned back. “Subtle, very subtle. So you blackmailed him and the others to drop their spare cash in the bottle instead?”
His face shifted to obviously fake shock. “Why, Sheriff, I’m astounded that you’d think that I put any pressure on anyone to contribute. I merely pointed out that while neither you nor your father would deign to notice who put in money and who didn’t, their neighbors and customers would.” He lifted his palms to either side. “Any resulting consequences to their businesses would be outside my power to influence.”
“Uh-huh.” She tried not to smile wider but failed. She pointed her fork at him and said, “I ought to bust you for picking their pockets.”
“But you won’t. Now let me thank you for coming. You can put a real capper on the first part of the evening.”
“The first part?”
“Yes.” Sam turned to Clark and said, “I’m thinking that our folks would enjoy seeing our very attractive sheriff dance.”
Clark lifted one eyebrow and turned to Rachel. “Would you like to dance, or do you need a few minutes to digest your dinner?”
“I’ll dance if I know the tune. I don’t get to practice much these days.”
“We’ll have to fix that. What tune would get you on your feet?”
She thought of one he might or might not like. “Brooks and Dunn, I think. ‘Boot Scoot Boogie.’ I really like the beat.”
Sam nodded. “I’ll see if Manny has that one available.”
Clark said, “Manny’s the DJ? I’ll have to go check in with him.”
Rachel put down her plate and reached down for Clark’s hand. “After this dance. I just decided I wanna move my feet. Can’t disrespect Alan Jackson’s ‘Chattahoochee.’ It’s a great dancin’ tune.”
Clark let her pull him to his feet, then said, “We’ll talk later, Sam. I think I have my marching orders.”
Sam laughed, then turned toward Manny and the DJ stand. Rachel looked over and saw Manny smiling at the people dancing. Then she pulled Clark onto the floor. “Let’s get started. You ready to be country again, city boy?”
He smiled, but his eyes held a melancholy light that puzzled her for a moment. Then he said, “I’ll do my best, but I’m more Michael Jackson than Alan Jackson these days when it comes to dancing.”
She smiled back and stepped into his arms. “Just do your best and I’ll be happy with it.”
They caught the beginning of the last chorus and stepped through a basic two-step and ended up near Manny’s booth as the music faded. Rachel caught Manny’s eye and he gave her two thumbs up and a huge smile.
As the intro to “Boot Scoot Boogie” slid out of the speakers, she and Clark lined up side by side and started the heel-toe step to the side. A number of other couples filled in around them, and before the first verse ended at least thirty couples were stepping through a fairly complex line dance.
When the vocalist sang the line “a shot of that redhead looking at me,” Rachel caught Clark’s eye and winked impishly. He rewarded her with a huge smile, then took her hand as they ended the dance close to the center of the floor.
For a moment – one brief, golden moment – all she could see was Clark’s smiling face. Then a thunderous applause rolled over them as apparently everyone in the room gave the two of them an ovation, complete with cheers and whistles and catcalls. She looked around and saw the faces of people she’d known since high school, people who she’d cheered on football fields or basketball courts or baseball diamonds, people to whom she’d written traffic tickets or even arrested, people who’d insisted that they’d never speak to her again, all smiling and clapping.
Lana caught her eye and winked, then mouthed, “Kiss him!” as she pointed at Clark. Rachel realized he still held her hand, but he’d moved a half-step back to defer to her.
Then Lana abandoned stealth and shouted, “Kiss him!” Others took up the cry until it was about all she could hear. She turned to Clark and lifted one eyebrow.
He tilted his head and almost frowned. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss her. Maybe he just didn’t want to kiss her because three hundred people were yelling at them to kiss.
She leaned closer to him and said, “Maybe if we ask them to contribute more?”
His mouth smiled but his eyes didn’t. “Your affection has never been for sale,” he answered. “Even for a really good cause.”
He was right. This was not the time or the place to do something like that. If Clark were to kiss her, it would mean something to her, but it probably wouldn’t mean the same thing to him. She wouldn’t put him in the position of pretending. And neither of them wanted to start any rumors.
Not yet, anyway.
Instead, she lifted their joined hands over her head, then took a quick bow. Clark followed as soon as he realized what she was doing. As she straightened, she forced her hand to release his, and she stepped away from him.
As soon as they separated, the circle broke up and Manny started Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “Down At the Twist and Shout” on the sound system. A woman Rachel didn’t recognize right away ran up to Clark and asked him to dance with her. He smiled and nodded, then slipped into a nice Cajun two-step. The woman was fighting to find the beat, though.
Rachel watched for a few seconds and decided that she and Clark were much smoother together. This woman danced like she was having a fit of some kind.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to see Lana smiling warily at her. “Hey, Rach! Look, I’m sorry about the ‘kiss him’ thing. I shouldn’t have even thought about it.”
“S’okay. I know you wasn’t tryin’ to start nothin’.”
“Thanks. Hey, I need to visit the ladies’ room. Want to come?”
Rachel didn’t really need to go, but it appeared that Lana wanted to talk privately about something, so she nodded. The two women slipped through the crowd to the bathrooms on the other side of the hall.
They met three other twenty-somethings coming out of the bathroom, all of whom took a moment to fawn over Rachel and wish her father all the best. Lana held the door open for her as the two entered the tile palace. The difference in the sound pressure level was a relief Rachel hadn’t realized she needed.
“Where’s your purse?” Lana asked.
“Left it in Clark’s truck. Didn’t think I’d need it tonight.”
Lana smiled at Rachel’s reflection. “It’s a bit overwhelming out there, isn’t it?”
“Just a little.”
Each woman faced a mirror over side-by-side sinks and fluffed at their hair. Rachel watched Lana glance around to see if anyone else was with them. It was time to find out what was going on.
“Hey, girlfriend, you got me in here to talk, so let’s talk.”
Lana dug in her purse for a lipstick, then shoved it back in. “I have a problem.”
Rachel waited for a long moment, then said, “It’s just us here. What’s your problem?”
Lana cut her eyes at Rachel, then snapped them away. “I – I’m not sure how I let this happen.”
Lana didn’t continue right away. Rachel listened to the music in the main hall and recognized John Fogarty’s “Center Field.” Odd choice for a benefit dance with a country theme, she thought, but maybe someone requested it.
It reminded her of the woman who’d started dancing with Clark a few moments before. “Hey, do you know the gal who was dancin’ with Clark when we came in here? I seen her around but I don’t know her name.”
“What? Oh – I think it was Jane Clemens. She rents one of Sam Kramer’s offices. She does secretarial work and typing for high school and college students. I think she’s a notary public, too. Why?”
Rachel shrugged. “Just wanted to know her name. Now I do.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I also got tired of not hearing either of us talk.”
Lana glanced at Rachel and almost smiled. “Okay. My problem is – I’m having an affair with my boss and I can’t figure out how to end it.”
Rachel’s eyes slowly bugged out and her mouth drifted wide open. She took a deep breath, then decided not to ask Lana how she got to be so stupid. This was nothing but big trouble for everyone involved.
Lana Lang was the executive secretary to Smallville’s mayor, Roger Hayes. The man had been a University of Kansas basketball All-American back in the mid 70’s, had been drafted by the Detroit Pistons of the NBA, and had wrecked his knee in an exhibition game his rookie year. The injury had forced his premature retirement from the sport, and he’d used his rookie salary to pay for most of his post-grad law school training. He’d parlayed that career into one in local politics, and now he had an eye on state office.
Roger was liked and respected by everyone Rachel knew. He owned property in and around the county, he had a beautiful wife, three popular and high-achieving children in high school or college, and a net worth in the mid seven-figure range.
And now he was having an affair with his twenty-something blonde secretary. If this got out, it would destroy Mayor Hayes, his political future, and his family.
And it would erase Lana’s future in Smallville. Maybe for the rest of her life. The ongoing disaster and continuing fallout affecting both Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton flashed through her mind.
Rachel tried to speak slowly and unemotionally. “Um – I thought you said he wasn’t bothering you since you told him me and you was friends.”
Lana ducked her head and sighed. “I got to know him and I like him a lot and one night about two months ago we worked late and I was exhausted and he drove me back to my apartment and I invited him in for a cup of coffee and – and I don’t quite know how it happened but it did.”
Rachel’s heart finally slowed down enough to let her speak calmly. “I appreciate your trust. You know I won’t tell no one as long as there’s no criminal implications.”
“There aren’t. Roger wouldn’t allow that.”
“I see.” Rachel took a deep breath. “So why are you tellin’ me? And why now?”
Lana pulled a brush through her already impeccable hair. “I want you to talk me into breaking it off.”
“What? How’m I supposed to do that?”
Lana stopped brushing and leaned her hands on the sink. “I know I need to end it. I know this is stupid and wrong and dangerous on so many levels. But – but every time he looks at me and gives me that little smile I just melt inside.” She sniffed and took a ragged breath. “I don’t think anyone knows about us, but Smallville is aptly named. It’ll get out if we keep on.” She stopped and gasped. “And I don’t want Clark to know. I want to keep his respect.”
That better be all she wants from him, Rachel thought.
Rachel blinked and refocused. “Lana, you know what you need to do. You probably should quit your job, too. Make it a clean break. If you don’t, this’ll bring him down real hard when folks find out. Won’t do you no good, neither.”
“I know.” She straightened and fluffed her hair with her hands. “I think if I tell him that you found out somehow, he’ll make it easier for me. I just – I don’t think I can say no to him if he gets close enough to kiss me. I just need a little help.”
“You wanna use me as a lever to pry yourself away from him?”
The door opened and three giggling high school girls invaded the room, then quieted down when they saw the “older generation” at the sink. Each of the new girls stepped into a stall and kept up a whispered conversation about a high school football player that Rachel didn’t find at all interesting.
Rachel leaned close to Lana and quietly said, “Can’t believe we were ever that young.”
Lana smiled. “Me either. Will you do it?”
Rachel frowned and shook her head. “I gotta think about this. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon. You gonna be at home?”
Lana’s eyes told Rachel that Lana understood the subtext, that the question was actually whether or not the lovers had planned a rendezvous the next day. Lana bit her lower lip, then nodded. “I’ll be at my apartment. Alone.”
“I got the number. Now let’s get back out there and party some more. I got to dance with the one what brung me.”
Lana nodded and led them back to the hall.
*****
Rachel let Clark close the passenger door of the truck for her. She buckled her seat belt as he walked around the hood to the driver’s side. It wouldn’t do at all for the sheriff to be ticketed for not being belted in.
He opened his door and stepped in. “Man, I’m still getting used to all the room in this truck. This is one of the few vehicles I’ve ever driven where I don’t have to slide in sideways or scoot backward into the driver’s seat.”
“Where were you that you had to back into a car?”
He buckled up and started the engine. “I spent some time in India a few years ago, and they don’t have many six-footers walking around. The cars over there are really small. Most of the taller guys are thin as a rail, too, and the adults always gave me plenty of room if they didn’t know me because I was so much bigger than most of them.”
“Just the adults?”
He shifted into Drive and pulled out of the lot. “For some reason the kids almost always swarmed me. I remember one village in the north where I stopped in the middle of the town to ask for directions, and before I realized it I was attacked by what seemed like an entire kindergarten class. I had kids on both legs, hanging from my arms and sitting on my feet, and one determined little girl climbed up my back and sat on my shoulders.”
They laughed together softly. “I bet the adults made you stay for a while after all that.”
He nodded. “They made me feel at home. Everywhere I’ve gone, the sweetest sound I heard was the laughter of children. I love it.”
She didn’t answer. She’d been thinking about telling him that she knew his secret, but Lana’s bombshell in the bathroom had pushed that thought from the front of her mind. And she couldn’t tell him what Lana had said. Nor could she decide whether or not to agree to Lana’s request to use her in ending the affair.
It was politics, plain and simple. If Lana were involved with a married vacuum cleaner salesman, Rachel wouldn’t even consider getting in the middle of things. But Roger Hayes being the mayor put it on a different level, one that Rachel hated to even think about. She wanted to help Lana, and getting her away from a married illicit lover was a good thing, but letting Lana blackmail him with Rachel’s knowledge just felt dirty to her. Ending the affair was the best thing for both of them, and for the town, but Rachel didn’t want to wade in the deep end of the political sewer.
And that assumed that everything Lana had told her was true. But why would Lana tell her such a story if it wasn’t?
Clark’s touch on her hand startled her and yanked her back from her muddled thoughts. “What!”
“We’re here.”
The noise from the engine was gone. Clark must have shut off the motor. She looked up and saw her cruiser parked across the street, just where she’d left it. All she had to do was get out, walk over, and drive home.
But she couldn’t make herself open the door.
“Rach, is something wrong?”
“Huh? Oh. Wrong? Not with me. Just – got some things on my mind.”
“Care to share them? Sometimes it’s good to share a burden. Two people can often carry it more easily than one alone.”
She sucked on her lips. “Yeah, that’s true, but one of the things I can’t tell you without I break a confidence.”
“Ah. Can’t have you violate a confidence. You’ll have to carry that load by yourself.”
“I know. But I – I got another thing on my mind that I think I should tell you.”
He turned toward her and tilted his head. “Are these two things related?”
She snorted a quick laugh. “No. they got no relation at all.”
“Okay. Then if you think I can help you with the second thing, I’m willing to listen.”
She nodded. “I guess – yeah, maybe I need to tell you. It’s actually a secret about another person.”
“Oh?” He shifted again. “Are you sure I should know this thing? I wouldn’t want you to violate a confidence on this one either.”
“I won’t.” She opened her seat belt and turned so that her left knee was in the seat, almost touching his right thigh. “This is actually about you.”
The streetlight shining in his face showed his confusion. “How can you know something about me that I don’t know?”
“But you do know it.” Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, “Remember our prom? You had a confrontation with Matt Stearman and a couple of his runnin’ buddies in the parking lot. You sent me to your daddy’s truck for my safety, and after you guys were done playin’ around I went inside to get a doctor for them.”
His head turned to the front as his eyes stayed on hers so that he looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. “I remember all that.”
“I never told you – not till right now – that I saw what you did to those boys. You could’ve killed them but you just made sure they weren’t going noplace.”
His eyes left hers and looked forward. “I’m not proud of what I did, but they were kind of drunk and I’d been studying some Aikido moves—”
“I saw you crush Matt’s pistol and throw it out of sight over the dance hall.”
He froze.
So did she.
He didn’t breathe.
She had to take a breath, so she did.
As she let it out slowly, he relaxed and said, “I was really mad that night and I came close to losing control. They’d already hurt a couple of other guys and terrified their dates. And they’d threatened you.”
“I know. I was there. And I thought you did what you had to do. You didn’t touch any of them until they tried to hurt you. If they’d turned and walked away, you’d’a let ‘em go.”
He shook his head. “And you’ve known about me since then?”
“I knew you could do some pretty unusual stuff, but when I started readin’ about Superman in the papers and that he was based in Metropolis like you were I figured it was either you or your twin brother you never told me about.”
He smiled. “Sorry, no brothers. None I know of, at any rate.” A long sigh escaped him. “You obviously haven’t told anyone else or I wouldn’t have a secret.”
She shrugged. “I figure if you wanted everybody in Smallville to know, you’d’a bought a full-page ad in the Smallville Post. B’sides, my daddy taught me that the sheriff has to keep the secrets he or she knows unless keepin’ ‘em endangers public safety. People are safer if Superman has a private life where he can let his hair down. You want to make a difference in the world, and that’d be real hard to do if everybody knew what all you could do. Wouldn’t have a minute’s peace.”
He reached out and took both of her hands in his. “Thank you for keeping my secret. And thank you for understanding.” He smiled wider. “You’re very kind.”
She squeezed his hands for a moment, then whispered, “That’s why Lois went all medieval on you, ain’t it? You told her and it didn’t go so good.”
He sighed again and dropped his gaze. “She accused me of betraying her trust, of lying to her about something so fundamental to my inner self. But I honestly don’t know how else I could have told her. Or when would have been a better time.”
She wanted to say that there never would have been a better time, that Lois was beautiful and smart and talented and was a great reporter but she was too high-strung for him, that he needed a woman who might not be as beautiful but who was at least easy on the eyes and wouldn’t be a burden to him and would love him no matter what he did or didn’t do.
She wanted to tell him that he needed her.
But she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. Maybe never.
So she settled for saying, “I’m your friend, Clark. Always have been. I’ll always be your friend.” His smile turned impish for a moment, so she added, “And go all sci-fi nerd on me and tell me this is a perfect Star Trek moment. We ain’t fightin’ Khan and neither of us is dyin’ of radiation poisoning.”
He grinned. “Nothing of the sort. I was just thinking that this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
She smiled back. “Humphrey Bogart to Claude Rains at the end of Casablanca. My folks got the video from the library ‘bout a month ago and I watched it with them.”
He tilted an eyebrow. “Let’s not go to war together like they did, okay?”
“Don’t wanna go to war with anybody. But I do want you to think about this.”
She reached up and touched his face, then drew him toward her. For the first time in her life, Rachel Harris kissed Clark Kent on the lips in real life and not for show or politeness or relief but just because she really wanted to.
After two or three seconds, she slowly drew back. “Hope you’re not offended. I just – I wanted you to know how good a friend I can be if you want me to be.”
He started to say something, but she turned and snatched at the door handle. “Good night, Clark. You were a very gallant date and I enjoyed every moment I spent with you tonight.”
She stepped out, then shut the door quickly without slamming it. As she walked to her car to go home, she debated with herself whether the kiss was a terrific idea or the stupidest thing she’d ever done or would ever do.
*****
Lois worked the locks on her apartment door as she juggled her takeout dinner and the mail in the other hand. A stupid joke popped into her mind.
If you’re ever attacked by clowns or acrobats, go for the juggler. She stopped and berated herself for thinking of it. Clark had told her that one.
It was irritating, almost maddening at times, how Clark Kent was still so present in her mind. She was starting to have trouble working up a good mad about him.
Just as the door gave up the fight and opened, Lucy stepped out of the elevator. “Hey, Lois. Sup?”
Lois almost growled. Lucy’s laconic greetings had gone – in Lois’ mind, anyway – from cute to puzzling to exasperating and were now approaching vexing. “About time you showed up. I thought your last class was over at three today.”
“It was. I told you I joined a study group. I want a GPA in the top five percent of my class and I’m not done with the semester.”
“Fine. Can you help me with this? Just take the mail and sort it.”
Lucy did so, then pushed the door open, and when Lois was fully inside she shut and locked it. “We got bills, bills, ad for a dry cleaner, more bills, a postcard from Daddy – he’s in New Mexico for some reason – and ooh! I got another letter from Clark!”
Lois put the food on the table and spoke without turning. “I didn’t know if you were going to be here so I only got enough for me. I’m sorry.”
“No problem. We got some hamburgers and sodas at the study group, so I’m not hungry. I assume you want the bills and Daddy’s postcard?”
“Yes on the postcard. I don’t want the bills, but I’ll take them.”
“Cool. Let me know how much I owe you for my part. You want to read Clark’s letter when I’m done?”
Lois bit the inside of her mouth before grunting, “No. You keep it.”
“Fine. I’ll summarize the good parts for you.”
Lois tried to keep the edge out of her voice. “You don’t have to. Really.”
“Still mad, huh?”
“Don’t go there, Lucy.”
“I still think you overreacted in your overreaction.”
“Will you stop that!”
“Sorry.” She clearly wasn’t. “Anyway, Clark’s letters are fun to read and I’m sure there’s nothing in it that’ll embarrass either of us. You just sit down and eat up and listen.”
Lucy obviously wouldn’t be dissuaded, so Lois poured herself a glass of tea and set out her chicken parmesan and veggie medley meal as Lucy opened the envelope.
“Hmm. He says he’s still living with his parents, and that they’re working him to the bone doing chores.” Lucy paused and chuckled. “He emphasizes that the return address on the envelope is his office in downtown Smallville.” She looked up at her sister. “I didn’t think Smallville
had a downtown.”
“It’s nothing to write home about,” Lois mumbled around a forkful of broccoli.
Lucy laughed. “That’s funny. That’s the very next thing he wrote. I guess you two still think alike.”
Lois dropped her fork on the paper plate, which muted the irritated noise she wanted to make. “Don’t go there either, Lucy.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in a bunch. Let’s see – he said that the former sheriff, Mark Harris, I think I told you that he was in a pretty bad car wreck the week before Clark moved, but he’s doing a lot better now and keeps complaining about his physical therapist being an amateur torturer. The town had a fundraiser for him last weekend, and apparently it was very successful.” Lucy stopped and frowned. “Harris, Harris – wasn’t that the sheriff’s name when you were in Smallville?”
“That was Rachel Harris, his daughter. She was elected after he retired a few years ago.”
“Daughter, huh?” Lucy’s tone drew Lois’ attention. “I guess that’s how he knows so much about her dad’s treatment.”
“He does?”
“Yeah. There’s a good bit of stuff in here about the exercises Mr. Harris is doing, how often he goes to therapy, how happy the doctors are with his progress, and how much help his wife is. Mr. Harris must think his wife’s a saint, judging by how Clark describes their relationship.”
Lois fought the urge to stand and leave the room. “What does he say about Rachel?”
Lucy frowned and scanned the rest of the three-page letter. “Not a lot. He mentions that she solved a rare cattle rustling case in near-record time and how there’s talk of a state commendation for her department for the way they handled the situation and that he’s interviewed her about it and is going to write about the case for his column.”
Lois nodded. “Anything else?”
“Well – he says toward the end that he hates that he had to leave Metropolis, and he wishes he hadn’t hurt you, but that this is working out pretty well for him and maybe it was for the best after all.” Lucy lowered the paper and almost whispered, “I think he thinks you might have done him a favor.”
Lois didn’t respond.
Lucy looked further and frowned. “Huh. If I’m reading this right, he’s building a new life for himself in ‘flyover country,’ whatever that means, and – and I think he’s trying to forget what happened between the two of you.”
“Good. It’ll save him some energy.”
Lucy shook her head. “I feel so sorry for you. You better remember that if he can forget what happened to break up the two of you, it’ll mean he can forget about how he felt about you. Are you sure you want that?”
Lois gritted her teeth. “It’s water under the bridge now. The past is the past, not the present and not the future.”
Lucy nodded without speaking, then she refolded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. She put both on the coffee table in the living room. “I have some writing to do for a class assignment, Lois, so I’m heading to my room. If I don’t see you before lights out, have a good night.”
The door closed and Lois was left in the front room with that letter from Clark. Lucy had offered to let her read it, but that wasn’t a good idea. It might make Lois regret shoving Clark out of her life.
Judging by the way Clark had written about his new life and how he seemed to be in close touch with Rachel Harris, maybe he no longer wanted Lois in his life. It was telling that he sent letters to Lucy but not to her. Lois knew that Clark always sent something personal to Perry when he emailed his articles, and she thought that Jimmy had an ongoing email correspondence with him. She hadn’t heard from him directly, nor had she responded to the indirect attempts he’d made through others to communicate. Apparently his latest letter to Lucy hadn’t included such a message.
It was obvious that Lois was no longer a part of his life.
And wasn’t that what she’d wanted?
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