"Do you enjoy kissing me?"
"Enjoy!" Clark cried. "Lois, I enjoy it too much - that's the problem." He studied her face. "Honey," he said. "Surely you *must* know how desirable you are to me."
She shrugged. "It's not great for a woman's ego when the mere sight of a bicep has her in a state of disarray and the owner of the bicep seems coolly unaffected."
"Coolly unaffected!" Clark shook his head. "If only you knew."
"If only I knew what?"
"I've already tried swimming under the ice in the Arctic circle," Clark said forlornly.
She regarded him with widened eyes. "You *swim* in the Arctic?" she said.
"Yeah," he said. "Cold showers don't work."
She almost managed to control her grin as she swept her hand down his face. "Aww, Clark," she said. "I'm sorry."
He managed a grim smile. "It's not your fault you're so incredibly sexy."
"Two weeks," she said. "And then no more swimming in the Arctic. I promise."
Part 42
Clark rapped on his editor's door and entered. Perry looked up with a grin.
"You wanted to see me?" Clark said.
"Yeah," Perry said as he leant back in his chair. "Have there been any developments in that murder case you were working on last week? What was his name?"
"Nigel St John," Clark said. "I called Henderson yesterday, and they can't find a trace of the guy's life, let alone who caused his death."
"Uhmm," Perry said. "Mayson wasn't able to unearth anything?"
"Nothing useful."
Perry glanced to the wall behind Clark. "It's almost five o'clock," he said. "Go home and pack. You have a plane to catch."
"My flight isn't until nine," Clark said. "And I'd planned to edit Mayson's story before I leave - the one about the death of the inmate in Metropolis Prison."
Perry's expression sobered. "That was a grisly business," he said. "I suggested she leave it to someone else, but ... you know Mayson."
"Yeah."
"Get out of here," Perry said gruffly. "I already told Mayson you would be going early. I'll see to her story."
"Are you sure?"
Perry chuckled. "I think I can probably remember enough to put the paper to bed by myself tonight."
"But -"
"Clark," Perry said. "Your idea of me doing the early 'shift' and you covering the late hours has revolutionised my life. I can't believe I didn't think of it years ago. Alice is like a new woman. Last night, we went to a movie together. Do you know how long it's been since I took my wife to a movie?"
Clark shook his head.
"Neither do I," Perry said. "More shame to me."
"I'm glad it's working for everyone."
Perry grinned. "Big weekend, huh?" he said. "Is the lady in question excited?"
Clark again thought about the moment when his carefully planned surprise would be revealed. His impatience surged, and he wished he could compact the next twenty-four hours into mere minutes. "I haven't told her I'm coming."
Perry's grin died. "What if she's made other plans? It's a long way to go to find an empty apartment because she's gone away for the weekend."
"She won't be going away," Clark said with certainty.
"Is it working for you - being awake more of the time when she's awake?"
"It's working ... wonderfully," Clark said, knowing his happiness was shining like a beacon.
"This Lois ... she means a lot to you, doesn't she?" Perry said.
"She means everything to me," Clark declared.
Perry chuckled. "I assume you've seen to all the essentials? Airplane tickets? Passport?"
A bit sheepishly, Clark withdrew a plastic passport folder from the interior pocket of his jacket. "I didn't want to risk forgetting it," he said. "I have my ticket, too." Actually, the feel of it brushing against his chest had served as a constant reminder that he was going to Melbourne. To Lois.
"You have a great weekend," Perry said.
"Thanks, Chief. See you Monday."
Clark's simmering excitement escalated as he hurried from Perry's office and closed down his computer. He had four hours before his flight. That was more than enough time to pack his suitcase, get to the airport, check in his baggage ...
... And still have the time to squeeze in a visit to Lois. In her world, it was early morning. If he saw her now, the time lapse between his visits wouldn't be too lengthy.
Five minutes later, Clark landed on his balcony. His hand reached for the door handle, only to freeze as his ears picked up a sound.
The sound of a heartbeat.
Coming from inside his apartment.
He couldn't *see* anyone through the glass. Who could be there?
Clark stepped away from the window so he wouldn't be visible should the intruder move into the living area. He looked through the wall and into his bedroom, and a disgusted groan slipped from his mouth. *She* was there.
Mayson.
In his bed.
Clark slammed shut his eyes and turned away. What could he do now? If he went into his apartment, there was going to be the granddaddy of a confrontation.
With Mayson - Mayson, who, from his quick glance, seemed to be wearing very little.
There was nothing to be gained from storming into his apartment and demanding an explanation.
Nothing to be gained and everything to be lost ... most importantly, his chance to see Lois before his long flight.
He couldn't physically remove Mayson from his apartment.
He couldn't call the police and ask them to charge her with trespass - that would take precious time - and might even mean he missed his flight.
And Perry had looked so relaxed this week - having his top reporter charged was the last thing he needed right now.
Clark shot up into the air, deciding there was no way he was going into his apartment while she was there, even if it meant he had to travel to Melbourne with nothing except the clothes he was wearing. He reached into his jacket and felt the reassuring presence of his passport and ticket.
Moments later, he landed at the back door of his parents' farmhouse and walked into the kitchen.
His mom looked up from the book she was reading. "Clark," she said, smiling. She stood and her smile died. "Is everything OK? Aren't you supposed to be flying to Melbourne today?"
He gave her a quick hug. "I am flying to Melbourne," he said. "But I need to get some clothes."
"What's wrong with the clothes in your apartment?" his mom asked.
"I can't get into my apartment."
"Why?"
"Because Mayson Drake is in my bed."
"In your -" Comprehension flooded her face. "She's *not* sick, is she?"
"No," Clark said darkly. "And I'd rather face a jungle full of lions than Mayson Drake."
"The sooner she finds out about Lois, the better," Martha said.
"I think she knows," Clark said. "She certainly knows I'm going back to Melbourne this weekend." He shrugged. "She's an investigative reporter - it's her job to find out things."
"What are you going to do?" his mom asked.
Clark smiled suddenly. "I'm going to pack a few clothes," he said. "Then I'm going to fly to the airport - and, once I've checked in, I'm going to zip to Melbourne to see the woman I love."
"Have you thought of excuses why you won't be able to see Lois for twenty-four hours?"
No, he hadn't. He tried, but excuses were not his strong point. "I'm not going to say outright that I won't be coming."
"Will she worry? When there's no word from you?"
"I don't think so. Sometimes I can't visit her because someone needs Superman."
"She's OK with that?"
"She's great, Mom," Clark said, again marvelling at his incredible fortune in finding Lois. "She understands Superman is important to me. She's wonderfully supportive."
His mom smiled. "And that's why you're going to Melbourne this weekend?"
"Yup," Clart said happily. "I want to be there for her just as much as she's there for me."
Martha's eyes sparkled. "I figure there's a good chance she'll know you're hiding something."
He nodded. "Probably." He grinned again with sweet anticipation. "But by Saturday morning, none of that will matter."
"What are you going to do about Mayson?"
"Nothing," Clark said. "I'm not going to let her spoil this weekend. I'm not going to waste even one thought on her."
Martha patted his arm and smiled up at him. "Good idea," she said.
He bent down and kissed his mom's cheek. "See you when I get back," he said.
"Happy flying," she said.
Clark grinned. "I hate riding in tin crates," he said fervently. "But this one will be worth it."
"Give Lois our love."
"I will," he said.
||_||
Lois filled the electric jug and switched it on. She got out two cups and spooned in the coffee. While waiting for the jug to boil, her mind travelled forward to the day ahead.
It had started early and was going to finish late. There was still much to be done in preparation for the rally tomorrow afternoon. After the rally would come the game against the Melbourne Demons in the evening.
The equation was simple - if Hawthorn beat Melbourne, they would probably play in the finals next week. It they didn't, it would signify the end of their season ... possibly the end of Hawthorn.
The nervousness twisted through her stomach, reminding her of how she'd felt on the mornings of the Grand Finals involving Hawthorn. But then, the worst scenario was defeat - defeat that would feel like your heart was being ripped out as your hopes and dreams were shattered by whips of disappointment.
But ... there was always next year.
And although you knew that the lost opportunity could never be recovered ... and you knew that the pain of losing a Grand Final would sit like a barb through your heart forever ... Hawthorn would live to contest another year.
Not so now.
The jug boiled and flicked off automatically. Lois poured the steaming water over the coffee in both cups.
She remembered the day she had first ventured into Glenferrie Oval ... Recalled how it felt to be a little girl in a strange new country ... and how Ron had walked towards her and she'd needed all of her courage not to scuttle away ... Remembered her surprise at the friendliness of his welcome.
She put three sugars in one coffee and milk in both.
And then had come the games. Game after game after game, unfolding through the years. Some had faded to become little more than a bare statistic in her mind. Others seemed to have taken on their own personality ... games that would never be forgotten ... games that were always recalled whenever members of the Hawthorn family got together.
The '83 Grand Final - and the sheer ecstasy of knowing, so far from the end, that the flag was theirs.
The '89 Grand Final - and Dermott Brereton rising from the ground after being crunched by Yeates.
The drawn game against North in '88 when the opposition were being coached by John Kennedy, the Father of Hawthorn.
Lethal's last game - the '85 Grand Final - and the sad end to what had been the most magnificent of careers. His tears - from a man who epitomised toughness - as he rode from the ground on the shoulders of his teammates.
Snapshots flashed through Lois's mind - the joy, the pain, the sorrow, the humorous moments, the jubilation ... all weaved together in a fabric of brown and gold.
If she were seventeen again ... if her father was standing before her, demanding she return home with him ... her decision would be the same.
She would not swap those years for anything in the world.
Lois blinked away the moisture that had gathered, and she picked up one of the cups. She gulped from it and immediately clamped shut her mouth in a herculean effort not to spurt it out.
It was disgusting.
How did Clark drink -
Lois burst into quivery laughter. She had made coffee for Clark - and she didn't even know whether he was coming.
She hoped he would be able to ... but their relationship had changed subtly since last weekend. She enjoyed seeing him ... loved seeing him ... but it didn't feel like she was falling apart if he wasn't able to visit.
She picked up the cup - being careful to get the other one this time.
Before it had reached her mouth, the swish she knew so well swept through the room, and Clark stood before her - casually dressed in jeans and a blue sweater.
She crossed to him. "Hi, handsome," she said.
He took her into his arms. "Hi, beautiful." He kissed her - his mouth warm and his cheeks slightly cool from the morning air. Then he smiled down at her and said, "How are you feeling?"
Lois took a deep breath. "I'm feeling OK," she said.
"Nervous?"
"Yes," she said. "But it's OK. Whatever happens, I will have you, and we'll get through this."
He nodded. "Whatever happens, we'll always have each other."
She grinned. "I made you coffee."
"How did you know I was coming?"
Lois shrugged. "Well, in my head, I didn't. But maybe, in my heart ..."
He kissed the end of her nose. "Eight days," he said.
"Eight and a half."
He accepted her correction with a quick smile. "Eight and a half. I can't wait."
"Neither can I." They took their coffees to the couch and sat down. "Clark?" Lois said.
"Yes, honey."
"You know I love seeing you, don't you?"
"Of course."
"It's just that ... well, maybe it would be best if you didn't come again until tomorrow night - though it'll be midnight before I get home."
She eyed him carefully for signs that her suggestion had stirred up any of his doubts. "OK," he said.
He seemed to be taking it well. "I'll be working late tonight," Lois said. "We still have a lot to do for the rally tomorrow. And I'm not even sure if I'll come home tonight. Chris - the new reporter - lives just around the corner from Glenferrie and -"
"That's OK," Clark said. "I understand."
Did he? "There's a big game at the 'G tonight - Essendon-Footscray. I think by the time I've finished all I need to do, I'll hit the footy traffic on the way home. It will be easier to crash with Chris." She searched his face. "Is that OK?"
"Of course it's OK," he said.
"I did tell you that Chris is female, didn't I?"
Clark smiled. "Yes, you did tell me that."
"So, it's OK, then?"
He gently brushed back a few strands of her hair. "Don't stay up too long reminiscing about Hawthorn."
Lois smiled with relief. *That* had been easy. "I won't," she said. "Tomorrow is going to be huge."
"I hope the rally is a great success," Clark said. "I know how much work all the volunteers have put into it."
"I want thousands of people to come, and I want to be able to get out our message," she said. "But whatever happens at the rally ... whatever happens at the vote ... we'll always know that we did everything we could."
"You should be very proud of the people of your club."
"I am."
They talked some more - about Perry and how much he was enjoying spending evenings with Alice ... about their wedding ... about what Superman had been doing ... and about how many times people asked about Ultra Woman.
"Why are you wearing jeans?" Lois asked. "Has Perry's relaxation extended to the dress code?"
Clark smiled. "I can't see that happening." He stood. "I have to go," he said.
Lois stood, and he kissed her quickly.
"You have a great day," Clark said. "I hope everything goes really well at the rally tomorrow. And I hope the Hawks win and get into the finals."
"By tomorrow night, some of the questions will have answers. We'll have an idea about the level of support for avoiding the merger, and we'll know whether there's a game next week."
"Yeah." Clark kissed her. "See you tomorrow night."
Then, he eased away and was gone.
Lois stared at the suddenly empty room. Clark's departure had been unusually abrupt ... and he'd never told her why he was wearing jeans.
She shrugged. She had more to think about than Clark's clothes.
Although his butt did look sensational in jeans.
||_||
To Clark's immense frustration, his flight was delayed, and it was almost midday on Saturday morning when he finally cleared customs at Tullamarine Airport. He discarded his original plan to use conventional methods to get to the city and instead shot out of the airport and landed in the shrubs at the end of Lois's driveway.
He knew she wouldn't be home. He had entertained the wild hope that he would get in early enough to take her to breakfast, but it had been unlikely even before the delays. As he walked across the driveway to her door, he reached into his jeans pocket for the key to her unit.
"Clark!"
Stifling his groan, he looked around and saw Esmeralda. "Hi," he said.
"Lois didn't tell me you were coming back."
Clark figured that wasn't unexpected. He knew the women had barely spoken since Lois had broken into her neighbour's home to rescue him.
"Clark?"
He pushed the key into the lock. "Uhmm?"
"Does Lois know you're back?"
He figured there was no reason to lie. "No," he said. "I'm going to surprise her."
Esmeralda put her hand on his arm, turning him to her. "She might not be the only one getting a surprise."
"Oh?"
"There's something you should know - before you go in there."
"What?"
His question had come out sharper than he had intended, but even so, he was surprised to see Esmeralda falter.
"What?" Clark repeated, consciously softening his tone.
"I know you don't have any respect for me, but whether you believe it or not, I was happy for Lois when she got together with you."
He wasn't sure he believed her, but Clark nodded, willing her to get on with whatever she wanted to say.
"I don't really know how to tell you this ... and I wouldn't say it if I wasn't absolutely sure ... but ..."
"But what, Esmeralda?" Clark frowned, knowing he had done a dismal job of hiding his impatience.
"I thought you and Lois had finished when you had to go back to the States."
"We didn't finish," he said. He pushed at Lois's door, and it swung open.
Esmeralda tightened her grip on his arm. "Before you go in there, you should know that Lois has someone else."
"She what?" he exclaimed. The words were out before he could moderate them. "No," he said more evenly. "No, she hasn't found someone else."
"How would you know?" Esmeralda scoffed. "You've been on the other side of the world."
"Lois wouldn't do that," Clark said firmly.
Esmeralda eyed him with abject pity. "She's had a man in there most evenings and many mornings," she said in a tone that invited him to draw his own conclusions.
"How do you know?"
"These walls are thin," she said. "I've heard conversations - when Lois was supposed to be in there alone. And the other voice was definitely male."
"Did you recognise the voice?" Clark said, trying to sound like a boyfriend who wasn't necessarily buying this allegation.
Esmeralda shook her head. "I didn't hear any words - not even specific voices - but I heard enough of the murmur of conversation to know that one of the voices was male. And I heard Lois laughing. And last weekend, I heard raised voices - I think they had a fight."
"Perhaps what you heard was the television."
Her look told him what she thought of *that* explanation.
"Esmeralda, I trust Lois," Clark said.
"Then you're a fool," she said.
Completely out of ideas and worried that he would simply dig a bigger hole for himself, Clark offered a smile and said, "Thank you for trying to warn me, Esmeralda."
"You don't believe me, do you?" she said.
"I'll talk to Lois."
"She's not going to admit that she had a guy in her place within a couple of days of you leaving."
"I'll talk to Lois."
"Just don't blame me when everything goes pear-shaped," Esmeralda said. She walked away, shaking her head.
Clark stepped into Lois's unit, shaken by the encounter with Esmeralda. It had never occurred to him that anyone would hear him. What if she'd recognised the voice as his?
Deciding there was nothing he could do about it now, Clark went into Lois's bedroom. She wasn't home, as he knew she wouldn't be. He hadn't been able to ask her if she minded him using her shower, but he hoped it would be all right.
He showered and shaved, splashed on some cologne, and dressed in clean clothes. At her front door, he hesitated. Should he super-speed out of the door and have Esmeralda think he was still in here? Or should he walk out normally and risk having to listen to more of her accusations?
He decided to walk. If Esmeralda came out, he would affirm again that he trusted Lois. There was very little else he could say.
Clark made it to the end of the driveway without being accosted and hurried to Richmond station. He spent the few minutes waiting for the train bristling with impatience. The train stopped, and he leapt aboard, his excitement growing with every step. Soon, he would see Lois.
And they could be openly together again.
||_||
Clark jumped from the train the moment the doors opened at Glenferrie station and hastened along the platform. He jogged down Glenferrie Road dodging the shoppers, slowed as he passed through the little arcade, and quickened again to cross the car park. Ahead was Glenferrie Oval; his view was obscured by the tall trees, but he could hear the drone of voices. Clark lowered his glasses and looked through the trees.
What he saw made him catch his breath. The rally wasn't due to start for over an hour - yet the oval was already a sea of brown and gold. He looked around him and noticed that people dressed in the brown-and-gold jumper of Hawthorn were marching towards the oval, armed with flags, banners, and 'no merger' placards.
At the sidewalk, he merged into the stream, and, once past the trees, he was able gain full appreciation of the enormity of the crowd. Lois had told him they were hoping for two thousand people. In Clark's estimation, they had exceeded that already.
He arrived at the gate and was greeted by an elderly lady who was completely decked out in brown and gold - including the earrings that hung from her ears. "Welcome," she said with a big smile. "Thank you for coming." She handed him a pamphlet and a cardboard sign emblazoned with the brown words 'NO MERGER' on a gold background. "Are you going to the game tonight?"
"Yes."
"Take the sign with you," she said. "We need as many as possible there."
He nodded and entered through the gate to stand on the little rise where he and Lois had watched Hawthorn train. He glanced up into the grandstand to his right, remembering it was there that Lois had told him about the beginnings of her love affair with Hawthorn. Now, the stand was filling quickly. The ground itself was over half full as people crowded around a small temporary stage that had been set up near the centre.
It was obvious that Operation Payback hadn't planned for this many people.
A long row of tables snaked between the goal posts and the grandstand. People sat on one side and on the other, long lines awaited - presumably to pledge their support and membership to Hawthorn for next year.
Assuming the merger was averted.
The air hung heavy with a sense of purpose and combative determination.
He needed to find Lois.
It wasn't going to be easy to see her.
Identifying her heartbeat - that one special rhythm he could distinguish from millions of others - was going to be the quickest way to locate her.
He closed his eyes and listened. There it was.
Suddenly, it accelerated.
Clark opened his eyes as a brown and gold figure flew into his arms with a delighted scream.
"CLARK!"
He swung her around - which was precarious given the milling crowds of people - and clung to her. She backed away, jumping with excitement as her smile shone and her eyes danced.
"Clark," she said. "What are you doing here?"
"I caught a flight yesterday morning," he said. "And here I am."
Her hand reached for his face and lovingly slid along his cheek. "Aww, Clark," she said.
They stood there, looking only at each other, as the ocean of brown and gold swirled around them.
A tear leaked down Lois's face, and Clark tenderly brushed it away with the pad of his thumb.
He could clearly see how much this meant to her. He could feel it in the slight trembling of her body under his hands.
He had dreamed of this moment many times. He had anticipated her surprise. But the reality was far better than anything he had imagined.
"You're crying," he said softly.
She nodded. "Yeah, but they're not sad tears," she said. "They are the happiest tears of my life. I ... I can't believe you did this."
She threw herself at him again and kissed him emphatically. Then her mouth leant close against his ear. "I can't imagine loving anyone more than I love you right now," she said. "But you're Clark Kent, gentleman of extraordinary sweetness, so I imagine that, by tomorrow, my love will have grown again."
Clark held her close to his heart in the circle of his arms. This was worth every minute of the long hours in the airplane and every ounce of the frustration at the delays.
Lois was happy - and they were together.
And that meant Clark's world was perfect.
||_||
Note
Some say 'Lethal' Leigh Matthews is the greatest player of all time. He played 332 games for Hawthorn between 1969 and 1985 - winning four premierships. His final game was the losing Grand Final of 1985.
From Wikipedia ...
He had earned the nickname "Lethal" for his reputation for giving (and taking) very hard bumps, this reputation was enhanced to the point of legend when in 1982, Leigh Matthews famously collided with a thick wooden post, a behind post, at Windy Hill and while showing signs of discomfort himself, broke the post.
