This is another story which takes place in the Stranger Universe and it occurs on the occasion of Lois and Clark’s 60th wedding anniversary. Unfortunately, Clark is gone, leaving a bereaved, but still determined Lois alone to carry on as the indomitable matriarch of the vast Kent clan.
But there is always Dr. Klein to the rescue ... or is it Dr. Kelin?
I'm saying that and giving away a major clue, because this is NOT a deathfic.
There are a lot of people I need to thank; Anti-Kryptonite, UltraWoman, Bob, Ray, KenJ and HappyGirl. The idea for the last letter came from Pam Jernigan. But most of all I want to give credit where it is due: to Deborah Joy Levine for breathing new life into comic book characters and to Teri Hatcher and Dean Cain for making it all look so easy.
Garden of Memories
Part One
A once beautiful, but now elderly woman sat alone under the protective shelter of a newly restored cedar gazebo in a spacious, lovely garden carefully looking through her wedding album. The sharp scent of fresh cedar merged seamlessly with freshly brewed amaretto flavored coffee and spring flowers. She wore a blue dress, and to ward off any chill, was securely wrapped in an ancient burgundy shawl, lovingly knitted decades ago by her Aunt Grace.
This was a unique day, unlike any other in the calendar year. On this brilliant, date exactly sixty years ago, she wed her best friend and partner, Clark Kent.
The wedding album’s binding had cracked, and in many spots the pages had begun to fade and yellow. Yet still the love and sheer bliss of that unforgettable evening came shining like some luminous beacon through all the years and decades that followed.
Despite her husband’s death nearly six months ago, she still clung desperately to her love for him, much as she clung to the warmth and memories of the old shawl.
Had it truly been sixty years since the day they exchanged rings and wedding vows?
Walking from the townhouse to the gazebo had been something of a chore. Every muscle and joint creaked in protest. Yet somehow she’d managed the walk down the flagstone path, worn smooth by generations of Kent feet.
Jonathan Kent would have been immensely pleased knowing his loving craftsmanship had survived long after his eyes had closed for the final time.
Despite the fact that her body was fading away, her mind remained as sharp as the day she and Clark had met. She often wondered if that had been a final gift from him. Perhaps his aura had somehow allowed her brain’s functions to remain firm while her body gradually weakened from age.
As she looked over the pictures, it occurred to her that she was the last living attendee of the event.
What a depressing thought.
No, that wasn’t exactly correct, Olivia Amundsen, Cat’s daughter, was still very much alive. Although she had been safe inside her mother’s womb that lovely evening. She was just as vibrant, unpredictable and auburn haired as her mother, yet every now and then George’s cautious bent peeked out – sometimes holding her back from doing something imprudent.
Dear Olivia. Her parents would have been pleased to see that their daughter grew up to be the leading scientist at S.T.A.R Labs.
She and a team of highly trained geneticists had discovered a rejuvenation process that slowed and reversed the effects of aging. Olivia had been so certain of its results that she volunteered as the first human guinea pig. Thankfully, her father’s careful behavior had not come to the forefront on that particular occasion.
The results – that was too bland a word - were nothing short of spectacular.
Within three months the fifty-nine-year old scientist had regained the youth and vigor of a thirty-year-old. Such a fantastic discovery could not be kept under wraps indefinitely. Overnight, S.T.A.R Labs had become the wealthiest and most financially stable company on the planet.
Regrettably, at this point, the process did not work for anyone over the age of sixty-five.
Lois shook her head at the thought. It figured she was too old for the treatment. Imagine a chance to live her life over again. Being the matriarch of the Kent family for *another* sixty amazing years. Her descendants were spread across the planet and the solar system. Taking her time to visit each one would forever satisfy her wanderlust and love of adventure. Who knows, maybe another Pulitzer Prize awaited her?
But no, it was not to be. The days of late night stake-outs and long boring hours spent in researching a story were gone. Still, despite being in her mid-eighties, Lois’ life was far from isolated and sedentary. Twice weekly, she conducted an on-line writing course for high-school students. It kept her connected with the younger generation outside of her family.
Her children, grands and great-great grandchildren flew in to visit her frequently; not a week went by when a gentle whooshing sound wasn’t heard in the garden heralding the arrival of another Kent descendent. Some weeks the garden seemed more like a take-off and landing strip than a place of peace and quiet reflection.
She sighed. Her mind had gone a wandering again. What *was* she doing? Oh yes, looking over the album, her annual pleasure.
Memories appeared unbidden, fast and flickering, like fireflies on a summer evening as she gingerly turned over page after fragile page of old style photos.
On the end sheets were notes from the guests – some wishing a long and happy marriage, some with funny remarks and some with loving, sage marital advice. Elderly eyes looked over the words. In some spots the ink had vanished. But all the notes were sealed with care in her memory.
- A perfect wedding ceremony to start a perfect marriage for a perfect couple – Jack
- Hey CK! It took a long time, but you two are a smooth couple! Maybe Lucy? - Jimmy
- Lois, remember, Clark is a catch, hold onto him with both arms… and legs! - Cat
- Marriage is like a perfect Elvis song: Lois, love him tender. Clark, love her deep and everything will turn out fine - Perry and Alice
- Thanks for the eats! – Bobby
She always chuckled after reading the missives and mentally seeing all those dear departed faces. Snatches of songs came to mind. How she and her handsome groom danced in the garden under glistening starlight. The delightful way Uncle Mike’s food tasted. The air had been lightly scented with lavender, jasmine, tulips and freshly cut grass that evening.
Years later, whenever those particular scents wafted by her nose, memories and a feeling of genuine contentment came over her. Marriage to Clark Jerome Kent had its challenges, but the tiny joys and significant triumphs outweighed them all. Theirs had been a happy marriage, but even the best of friends occasionally have minor disagreements. Suddenly, words escaped unbidden from her throat.
“Oh, Love! How I wish you were here!”
Also unbidden, the most painful memory of the garden beat through all the happy ones like the angry flapping wings of a hunting bird of prey.
***
It had been early November, and Metropolis was deep in the grip of blizzard. Lois had awoken around two in the morning to discover Clark’s side of the bed cold and without any sign of it having been slept in. That in itself was not unusual, but Clark always left a note on her nightstand if he was going on a short patrol, working on an article or just flying to clear his mind. She remembered thinking, <Come on old girl, the kids do most of the serious superhero chores these days. Maybe an adventuresome cat needed rescuing from a high tree branch?>
Yet when she turned her lamp on the nightstand held nothing.
“Cl…Clark?” She called out. Oh, how she hated how feeble and timorous her once-vibrant voice sounded in her ears!
There was no response.
It took five minutes to convince stubborn ancient limbs to get into her robe and negotiate the stairs, all the while muttering dark curses at her errant husband. If he took a late night flight and forgot to leave a note …
But her thoughts took a decidedly bleak turn when she failed to smell coffee brewing and his computer terminal was dormant. If he were researching a story, both machines would be working, and since Clark was so neat and careful about such matters, Lois immediately became concerned. Where was he? Why was the air downstairs stiff and freezing cold? Her eyes shifted to the French doors leading to the garden. They were wide open. The last vestiges of annoyance vanished and were replaced with her heart pounding with sheer panic.
Her mind immediately began to race, none of their former enemies were still alive, and Clark’s secret identity had remained intact all these years. This was completely out of character for him.
“Clark!” she shouted.
A mindless all-consuming fear cascaded over her, colder than any mere winter night’s white frigid blast. With each halting, terribly painful step, the fear grew deeper, chilling her bones and tightly clenching her belly. Leaning heavily against the French doors, she struggled to make her stiff, icy fingers, turn on the outside floodlights. When the bright illumination split open the darkness, she looked down upon the most improbable sight imaginable; her husband of fifty-nine years lay face down in the snow. Gentle snowflakes were still falling as they softened the outline of Clark’s body. His left hand was under his chest while his right hand, now blue with cold, reached out and had scrawled three words:
Lois, I love...
***
Her memory of what occurred immediately after she found Clark’s body was as blank as a freshly whitewashed wall. She did not remember calling CJ, yet her son arrived with his wife, Mira, in his arms. Ever practical and calm, Mira settled a hysterical Lois down by taking her upstairs and then making a very strong cup of Oolong tea. Sadly, she had to leave her husband the very painful task of bringing his father’s body, inside the relative warmth of the townhouse. He listened for any sign of a heartbeat. With his vision blurred by tears, Clark Jerome Kent, Jr. tenderly carried his father’s body to S.T.A.R Labs.
Subsequently, using state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment, Dr. Ignatius Klein, Bernie Klein’s great-nephew and S.T.A.R Labs’ Superman specialist, concluded that Clark’s heart had simply given out. No other feasible justification could be found.
Such a simple explanation was cold comfort to his wife. That terrible winter night, Lois Lane-Kent had lost her partner, husband, and lover. From every corner of the planet and from three different moons and Mars Base Alpha, the Kent family swiftly gathered to mourn the loss of its patriarch. CJ had informed the media that in accord with his parents wishes, Clark Kent would be buried at the family plot in Smallville.
There had been a seventy-two hour delay before the funeral home was allowed to receive Clark’s remains ... from S.T.A.R Labs. Despite being overwhelmed with grief, Lois could not contemplate why Iggy did not release his body to Metro Gen immediately as per the family emergency plan. Reporter instincts on the alert, she intensely questioned the doctor about the delay when he came to the townhouse. Her suspicions were compounded by the guilty look on Dr. Klein’s face while expressing his condolences. Those suspicions pressed on her mind, but emotionally and mentally she too worn out to give them any deep consideration.
The following morning after Clark’s remains were released to the funeral home, an announcement was made by LNN that the famous journalist and wrtier Clark Jerome Kent had died of a heart attack. Condolences had poured in from news agencies all over the solar system. Clark and his wife, although retired for a number of years, were still well-known journalists and writers.
Clark Kent’s family, friends and colleagues quietly mourned the passing of a singular person and legendary journalist.
Two months later, the foundation bearing the name of Superman - who had retired long ago from *any* public appearances – announced that the hero had drawn his final breath.”
The citizens of a grateful planet celebrated the superhero’s life and achievements on a scale like none before. Many heads of state delivered eloquent speeches about the Man of Steel and hundreds of remembrance ceremonies were held in his honor. Perhaps the most fitting was in Metropolis, his adopted city. On the former site of the Daily Planet building, there were plans to erect a twenty foot high statue in his memory.
Lois of course had been asked to attend and speak at the memorial service in Centennial Park. The Kent family spokesperson issued a statement: “Lois Lane-Kent regrets that she will not be able to attend due to poor health.”
That statement was not untruthful. Lois was still heartsick over Clark’s sudden death. She remained in bed for days on end, refusing to listen to any of the memorial services for her husband’s alter ego. She even neglected to work on her family project: a glorified scrapbook that she and Clark had begun to commemorate their many years as friends and partners.
This lethargy alarmed CJ to such an extent that he hired a nurse, Alva Lemay, a strong, if perhaps a little overbearing, middle-aged woman to care for his mother. For another two months Lois’ health was indifferent at best. But as the weather grew warmer and her 60th wedding anniversary drew nearer, she gradually rallied and recovered.
Finally, Lois emerged from her sickbed. Instead of going for a brief walk around the block, she wanted to tour the garden.
Her body had not completely recovered from its weakened state when she stepped through the French doors and looked out upon the garden . Her disappointment at seeing the once lush and verdant outdoor room overgrown, the gazebo covered with weeds, the flagstone path swathed in sickly green moss and the Italian Cypress trees untrimmed, was almost more than even Lois could endure. Suddenly she felt long forgotten anger rise and she turned to her nurse.
“This is a disgrace!” she said aloud. “How could the family have allowed this to happen?”
“Now, take it easy, Mrs. Kent,” Alva said in a patronizing tone Lois could barely tolerate. “I told Mr. Kent it was best. No one should trouble your recuperation with gardeners and landscapers making a lot of fuss and noise. It might have gotten you upset.”
Lois looked at the stocky, grey haired woman, shook her head in exasperation and rolled her eyes. Years of being a reporter trained her to listen for the sound of deception and condescension in the human voice. The nurse spoke to her as if she was a doddering old woman with one foot in the grave. It was true, her body *was* fragile. But her mind, not that the first stages of grief were behind her, was as keen as a razor.
Unfortunately, Alva steadfastly refused to see beyond the physical. Her myopic mindset still perceived Lois has still the bedridden, grieving widow. The nurse even had the nerve to tell CJ what was best for his mother! What was worse, the dear lunkhead listened to her! From somewhere in the past, a scrap of a conversation she had had with Clark come to mind. She heard Clark’s voice whisper, “Lois Lane… my little tornado.”
That was all it took.
“You *told* my son not to bother me with the sound of people working on the garden? Obviously you were never raised anywhere near a farm!”
The nurse sniffed and said, “I should say not! I was born and raised in Metropolis!”
Lois rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah, it shows. Alva, contact my children *and* my grandchildren. Tell them I’m calling a family meeting. If they are not involved in any outstanding work or family issues, I expect them to attend via hologram or in person.”
"B…But Mrs. Kent! They’re scattered all over the world and the solar system. They can’t possibly arrive here on such short notice!”
“Pardon me, but this *is* the 21st century. Tell them to contact me tonight at seven o’clock sharp! Oh, and Alva, I will be in my study working on plans for the garden. Also, while this project is in swing, call me Lois Lane!” The elderly woman drew herself up tall, pulled the burgundy shawl tightly around her shoulders, and with as determined a stride as her ancient body could muster, walked back towards the house.
Alva ran after her, shouting, “You’re eighty-eight years old! What are you planning to do?” She touched a fragile arm to gain Lois’ attention.
With surprisingly little effort, Lois pulled away from the nurse’s hand, her brown eyes exploding with a fire that for too long had remained dormant. She could literally feel the adrenaline running through her limbs like a herd of wild stallions set free.
“What can *I* do at Eighty-eight? Why, turn this mausoleum of a backyard into a proper garden any resident of Metropolis would be proud to own!” She took deliberate but surprisingly firm steps towards the shocked nurse. “I’m going to redecorate this town house from top to bottom and renovate the kitchen as well! This is *my* home and it needs a proper spring airing. Don’t just stand there woman gaping like a freshly caught fish… make the calls!”
She had spent the rest of the day digging Jonathan’s original garden designs out of Clark’s old files and carefully reworking them to reach mid-21st century standards. The mere action of working again in the study on a new and different project had filled her heart and she seemed to be aglow with a fiery light of intensity.
***
That evening Lois held a meeting with her children, they were all a little surprised. At first, during the conversation established via crystal link-up, the youngest members of the Kent Clan were deeply concerned that Grandma Lois was losing her grip on reality. Her arms gestured in short stunted movements and babbled about large blue plant containers, amber tea lights and new stone stairs leading from the French doors.
CJ happily recognized his mother’s strength of mind from the past and zeal to get the job completed before spring of 2057. Being the oldest child, he had the most experience with his mother’s moods. He calmed his family members’ fears and concerns. Secretly, he applauded this renewed interest in living; he was deeply concerned grief would completely engulf his normally active mother.
Lara Kent-Gunderson had joined her brother in reassuring the family that they should comply with their Mother’s wishes.
“Gram, this is going to take a considerable amount of schedule coordination. After all, we are spread pretty thin across the solar system.” Her youngest granddaughter, Polara Kent stated.
“True. But among thirty-seven people, it should be easy to trade off “super” duties and help in this project. Using your great-grandfather’s original landscape designs as a basis, there’s no doubt in my mind we can all breathe life back into this space and make the garden a thing of beauty. Remember, in addition to the Kent farm in Smallville, this is our family home.”
“Just like Mom to jump into the deep end of the pool without thinking how it will affect the rest of us,” Jason mumbled to his wife.
Lois turned to the holographic image of her youngest son and spoke sharply, “My hearing is as acute as ever, despite my age. Just because you’re living millions of miles away on Mars Base Alpha doesn’t mean I can’t hear you. When I am gone, this townhouse with *all* its family history will still be here, serving as the Metropolis residence for the Kent family. If that’s to be the case, this house needs updating. Your grandfather had mentioned doing it himself before he died. So with him gone I’m asking everyone to contribute their time and talents.”
Jason bowed his head slightly and responded. “I’m sorry Mom …”
She smiled tenderly at the holographic images before her and continued. “I understand son, but we should consider this an extended family reunion! After all, do we really want strangers to have total access? Who knows what family secrets some contractor might stumble across? It’s bad enough that nurse is here all day. The *only* reason she’s still around is because I need a little help.”
Everyone agreed that the townhouse on Hyperion was their home away from home and it did need routine maintenance and extensive upgrades. Lois’ children were delighted to see their mother take an active interest in *anything* since their Father’s death. The younger ones were also pleased, if a little surprised. They figured she might try to investigate something or someone. This was the family matriarch they knew and loved; Lois Lane Kent; pushy, outspoken, ready to roll up her sleeves and get the job done, water level be hanged.
The frail, tiny woman wore a simple light green pantsuit, which was a welcome change from the dreary, shapeless black clothes she had taken to wearing. She had once been incredibly beautiful and wore smart, sexy outfits in her youth. Then simpler but very sophisticated suits as she grew older, age notwithstanding, she could still dress with style. Lois Lane’s intelligence and manifold attractions had caught the attention of a fabulously wealthy, but notorious man, a government agent, and an unscrupulous doctor. Her children were grateful that none of those men were their father.
None of them could miss how her brown eyes light up in anticipation of the numerous home and garden projects that lay ahead. They could fully comprehend why crooked judges, wayward captains of industry and white collar criminals were fearful when she caustically pointed an old-fashioned freshly sharpened yellow No. 2 pencil in their direction. This was a woman to be reckoned with. If she wanted one last great project, who were they to say no?
“No worries, Mom,” CJ stated in a firm voice. “Jase was just letting off a little steam. Repairing that crack in Mars Base Alpha’s protective dome was an unexpected challenge. He didn’t mean anything by it. Did you, little brother?” CJ cast a sharp eye on his brother’s holographic image. Of all of her children, CJ’s face resembled his father the most, but his strong personality was pure Lois.
Jason Kent raised his hands in defeat. “OK! OK! I’m in! I’m in! When do we start?”
“As soon as you can get here,” his mother replied.
***
The renewal of the townhouse and its accompanying garden was swift and sure. With so many super powered beings working on a number of projects, the entire renovation took only a month. She remembered how surprised her family had been when she insisted on them working at normal human speed.
“No reason to make Alva and the neighbors suspicious,” she had said when CJ brought the new refrigerator in through the garden late one night with only one hand.
Each day, a new change took place, such as two large square cobalt and white planters placed on either side of the French doors. Lois chose the mixture of ivy, coleus and brightly hued flowers which added a much needed punch of color and texture to the garden entrance. She also wanted the worn and neglected path cleared of moss and to have any cracked flagstones restored. Small, but powerful lights were fit into the risers of the steps leading down from the stone landing to the flagstone path.
Jason himself replaced aging wood from the gazebo with fresh lumber and then painted it with a protective coat of varnish. He also purchased as a gift, a classic set of teak table and chairs that fit perfectly under the gazebo’s sheltering roof. Here his mother and visitors could enjoy al fresco relaxing reading and dining
Granddaughter Polara, with much tender care, had managed to prune dead leaves and fertilize most of the Italian cypress. Sadly, others had to be uprooted and replaced with young trees. The city setting was not the best location for the plants, but Jonathan Kent had thought its unique shape was the best possible choice since it would hide his son’s aerial comings and goings
Installing the amber tea lights had been one of the highlights of the garden restoration. They added yet another accent to an area filled with whimsical private spaces to rest and contemplate the beauty of life. Wandering through the enchanted outdoor room, Lois forgot she was living in the heart of Metropolis, only a twenty minute walk to the former location of the Daily Planet, now home to the statue honoring her departed husband’s alter ego.
In the midst of all the renovations, Lois enjoyed animated discussions during meals and breaks with her children about their lives and super rescues. She was particularly interested in Jason’s life on Mars, specifically the incident of the Mars Alpha Base dome developing a gigantic fracture. She asked him to go over everything in painstaking detail from beginning to end. After several weeks of meticulous planning, the dome’s designers and builders had restored structural integrity and strong measures were being taken to assure such a thing would never happen again. Terra forming was still a new science and the city beneath the dome was a daring prototype for other space colonies to follow.
In the back of her mind, something did not sit quite right with her, and she intended to have Jason send back detailed holograms of the site. It might be restrictive working Earthside only and not be able to visit the site but perhaps she and Polara, a journalist on the Daily Luna, could work together and write a story on the entire incident.
Lois smiled to herself, and thought <The most senior family member and most junior grandchild in the family investigating a case!> She could just imagine the brilliant grin that would appear on his face as her husband contemplated the thought.
To be continued ...
