"Ma?" Clark straightened up with a photo in his hand. It was small and fragile, and showed two women, arm in arm, covered in mink coats. Their faces were framed in laughter. "Ma, what picture is this?"
He had been visiting the Kent homestead for the weekend, and was helping his mother do some spring-cleaning. She had sent him into the attic to clear away useless things, like old receipts and outdated books. It was there that Clark had discovered a shoebox full of old photographs. The one he now held was right on top.
"Come down, here!" Martha Kent bellowed. "You know I can't climb those steps with my arthritis!" Dutifully, Clark swept down the stairs and into the kitchen, to where she was making lunch.
"Eat," she commanded, passing him a plate of chicken salad sandwiches. Clark held up a hand to block it.
"Story first," he said with a smile. "Then food." Mrs. Kent rolled her eyes and turned to scold him, when she saw the picture he held. She nearly dropped the plate.
"Oh!" she said with delight, forgetting about lunch. "That's me! And that's my cousin Martha!"
Clark arched an eyebrow. "Two Marthas? In the same family?"
"Yes, you goof!" she swatted him with a dishtowel. "It's happened before. Didn't I tell you about her?"
"No," Clark said thoughtfully, "but you can, now."
Martha Kent scowled, and bit her lip. "Maybe later. Eat your lunch."
But Clark knew better. He rose from the table, waggling his eyebrows. His mother started to laugh, and shrieked when Clark lifted her up above his head. He had done this when he was a boy, and it was the best way to get information out of her. If that failed, then tickling was the next best solution.
"Stop! Stop, put me down!" she laughed again. "I'm too old for you to pick up."
"I've held back planets, Ma!" Clark bellowed in mock-anger. "Your puny body is no match for me!"
"Okay, Superman, I'll tell you. Now put me down. Now."
With the grace of a ballet dancer, Clark lowered her to the floor, before pulling out a seat for her. She settled in, and sighed as she picked up the picture.
"Where to begin?" she wondered aloud, and then decided.
"When our mothers were pregnant, neither knew the other was going to name their child 'Martha.' It just happened. By the time they discovered the mistake, there wasn't much they could do to change it. I was Martha DeHoff, and she was Martha Kane. Our souls were joined by that name."
"DeHoff," Clark repeated. "Isn't there a large accounting firm named DeHoff & DeHoff? On the east coast?"
"Yes," said Martha, "and I am related to them. They are very well-off. One of their daughters married into the Kane family from New York, and that's where Martha comes in.
"We grew up together. Don't raise your eyebrows – I didn't always live in Kansas. Yes, our summers were spent in Baltimore, eating Smith Island cake and sucking on lemons through peppermint sticks. Then, when fall came, we'd travel to a boarding school in Pennsylvania for our education. It was always dreary, because it was located in the woods. The teachers were mean, and the other children made fun of our accents. But Martha never paid them any mind. She pitied them for staying cooped up in their big, empty mansions, with only a butler for company. Her heart was always so soft for others.
"But yes, we were always together, like bread and butter. We called each other 'Name Twins.' She was the fancy one, always loving to put on makeup and go out for a night on the town. The boys there loved her. And I was the tomboy; I liked to climb trees and wade through water, looking for frogs. They called me Pollywog. Never lived that down." She laughed and dabbed at her eyes with her apron. Clark realized that she hadn't been this happy for a while. Not since Pa died.
"Go on," he prodded her.
"Yes," Martha laughed. "Well, there's not much left to say. By the time we were finished school, Martha knew what she wanted to do with her life. She saw that we were wealthy, and wanted to use it to change the world. So, she spent more time in New York, hosting galas and raising money for the war effort. I was content to collect scrap iron and work in the Works Progress Administration. That was where I met your father – we found each other while working on an agricultural project in Kansas. I was touring it, and he was planting it. We just…clicked." Her voice took on a dreamy tone, and Clark smiled.
"Then what happened?" he asked.
His mother's smile faded. "After the war, your Pa proposed, and I said yes. My family was very unhappy with my decision, especially Martha. She had wanted me to join her in Gotham, where we could do more to help others. All she saw in life were ways to make the world a better place. She had so much faith in the human race, and had not seen how awful men could be. I saw it. I saw how people were dying without food and medicine, because the pharmaceutical companies charged too much for good health. I saw people being experimented on, and given no compensation for the sickness they got. How men beat their wives at night to the song of liquor. How rich men in their manors knew so little about the real world, and what they wasted could be a poor man's treasure. Money can't make the world better. Love did.
"But," Mrs. Kent continued bitterly. "Martha couldn't see that. Our family couldn't see that. They saw the world through gold-colored lenses. And they thought me a fool for leaving that all behind for Kansas." She wiped her eyes and breathed in.
"Before I left for Smallville," she finished, "Martha came to see me off. She pleaded with me for one last time, and offered me a place to stay in the city. 'Mar,' she had said. 'Don't leave me.' But I told her that I needed to leave this awful place, and told her that she was always welcome to visit. When the train pulled away from station, she was still standing there, watching me until I disappeared from view. I never saw her again."
Clark took the picture from her, and turned it over in his hands. On the back was a cutout pasting of a news photo. Now, Martha Kane was standing next to a dapper gentleman, and holding a young boy. Their faces were tired but kind. Beneath the photo was the caption, "Dr. and Mrs. Wayne, murdered yesterday, leaving behind a son, Bruce. Age 8."
Clark looked up in shock. "Ma," he said slowly. "That's – "
"He has her eyes," she interrupted, blinking back tears. "He has her smile. Oh, Clark! If I had only stayed. All she wanted was for me to stay. Why was I so stupid? We would have taken Bruce, but they wouldn't let us near him! He was all alone, and I couldn't help him!" Now the tears ran freely, and she buried her face in her apron, shaking.
Clark slid off his seat and knelt on the floor. He still had that farm boy frame – big and heavy like a draft horse – so when he gathered his little mother into his arms, it was like holding a tiny doll. So sweet and so fragile.
"I love you, Mama," he whispered into her ear. "You don't have to feel guilty. You've done so much in this world – you've made it such a better place. And I couldn't imagine a better universe without you." Then he let her keep crying into his shoulder, until his shirt was wet and stained with salt. Because that's what a good boy lets his mama do.
Three months later, Clark Kent would fly silently into a cold, dark cave. In it, he found a man who had been alone for a very long time, with only a butler and computer for company. There, Clark would hand the man an old photo. Of two women forever wreathed in smiles and laughter. Then the man named Bruce would look back up at him, his cold, grey eyes confused.
And another story would begin.
So hey! I always wondered about the two Marthas, and this is my story for them! If you think the idea of two cousins having the same names as being far-fetched, I assure you it is not. It's based off me and my own cousin. Yep, our moms literally didn't know the other was naming her kid the same name. Unfortunately, we're nowhere near as close as the two Marthas. The term "Name Twins" comes a friend of mine who ALSO shares my name. DeHoff is a family name, and there is a DeHoff who actually is well-off. He won't share the money, though. Turd.
Maybe it's because I'm a girl, and thus more sentimental, but I think it would have been nice for the two to be related, and then divided by tragedy. And then for Batman to get a little bit of sunshine in his life. I can imagine him discreetly visiting Martha Kent in the evening, and asking her about his mother over coffee.