html
"Look!" Clark cried from Jonathan's arms, pointing at the brightly lit gymnasium.
"It's pretty, isn't it, Clark?" Martha smiled at him.
"The kids sure went all out," her husband admitted. Smallville High's gym had been draped in orange crepe paper. Tables full of cookies and candy boasted smiling jack o'lanterns. Some teenagers were painting faces, while children bobbed for apples and carved pumpkins. Others, already high on sugar, just chased each other around the smooth floor. It looked very festive, but Jonathan noticed the decorators had been very careful to avoid any of the more grisly symbols of Halloween. There were no skeletons, no dripping blood, nothing colored back. As Joe Ross had promised, everything looked cheerful and fun for the town's children.
The man himself approached, smiling at them. "Martha, Jonathan, you came! And you brought the little boy."
"Place looks great, Joe," Jonathan shook the older man's hand. "We sure do appreciate all the effort."
"Ah, it was really the high school kids that came through. I just provided the refreshments."
"And the decorations, and the door prizes…" Dale Ross stood behind his father, his youngest son perched on his shoulders. "Not to mention twisting the mayor's arm about lifting the curfew for tonight."
Dale's wife Kate laughed. "Joe's good at twisting arms. Jonathan, Martha, you remember our children? That's Mike, and here's Sam, and that's Peter hanging off his dad's neck. Kathy and Jim are over in the corner with their friends."
The two older boys nodded politely before scrambling back to the party, but Peter stayed where he was. "Hi," he offered with a winning grin. His missing front teeth made him look a little like a jack o'lantern himself.
"We haven't seen you two in a while," Martha smiled.
"Yes, isn't it a shame that it takes something like this to pull the town together?" Kate commiserated.
"How's the law practice going?" Jonathan set Clark down, but instead of running off to play the boy attached himself to Jonathan's leg.
"Well, you know what it's like to start a new business, any new business." Dale and Kate were both attorneys. "Especially in a town this size. But we wanted the kids to grow up with family nearby."
"I don't know how the two of you do it. Five kids and two law practices. When do you sleep?"
"Whenever we can," Dale joked. He nodded at the child hugging Jonathan's legs. "I'm sure you two are learning that."
"Clark's a really good sleeper so far," Martha offered. "We haven't had a bit of trouble."
"Wait 'til he's older," Joe laughed.
There was an uncomfortable silence, broken when Dale set his son down. "Peter, why don't you take Clark and get some cookies before they're all gone."
""kay." Peter sidled closer to the other boy. "Let's go."
Clark only blinked at him, and Martha hastily intervened. "I'm afraid he doesn't talk much yet, Peter."
"Oh." Peter grinned again, undeterred. "But let's go get some cookies. They have chocolate chip." The Ross children had a reputation for being usually bright and precocious; clearly the youngest was following in his siblings' footsteps.
Peering up fearfully at Jonathan, Clark had pursed his lips into a tight line. Jonathan touched him gently on the top of the head.
"Run along with Peter, Clark. Martha and I will be right here."
The child still looked uncertain, but he allowed Peter to take his hand and tow him toward the refreshment tables. Neither of them was quite tall enough to see over it, but the other children around them had cookies and popcorn balls.
"I want cookies," Peter announced to the lady behind the table. When she gave him two in an orange napkin he thanked her the way his parents had taught him. "What d'ya want, Clark?" He asked the other boy. "D'ya want one of my cookies?"
Clark shook his head, pointing instead at a platter of shiny red objects.
"Those are candy apples," his new friend explained. "They're pretty good, too. I'll get you one." Pointing at Clark, Peter explained, "He doesn't talk, but he wants a candy apple. Can he have one?"
"Of course." The volunteer smiled at them and gave Clark an apple.
He held onto it by the stick, admiring the pretty candy coating.
"You're s'posed to eat it, not look at it," Peter counseled. "Stick it in your mouth."
Clark did his best to fit the whole apple in his mouth, but he couldn't do it. The other boy laughed.
"Not the whole thing! Take a bite. Here, I'll hold it for you." Having already devoured his cookies Peter took the treat and held it out for Clark to take a bite.
He did so obediently, startling a little when the candy shell shattered in his teeth. But he chewed and swallowed with a smile.
"Good," Clark offered.
"Told you."
Clark took the apple back and held it out so Pete could have a bite. Taking turns they two little boys managed to make short work of the apple.
Across the room Martha smiled. It was good to see Clark getting along with another child. She'd been afraid the other boy might sense something about Clark was…different.
"So do you think you'll be able to keep him?" Dale was asking Jonathan.
"We're not sure yet. No one's claimed him."
"But you want to, right?" Kate asked.
"Of course we do," Martha nodded.
"Well, if you need any help or advice, let me know; my old college roommate specializes in family law," Mrs. Ross offered.
Jonathan hastily changed the subject. "So, Joe, you're a retiree now."
"Yep." Joe scratched his head. "Hell of a way to start the next phase of my life, though. You know, Luthor was out at the plant to sign the papers when the meteors came down. That was how his boy got hurt, playing in the cornfield. I hope the kid's all right; he was quite a sight when we brought him into town."
Remembering his encounter with the Luthors, Jonathan frowned. "I remember."
"Lionel Luthor's got some big plans for the business. Wants to expand, hire on more people," Joe said proudly.
"That'll be great, if it's true," Dale Ross said.
"You don't think it is?" Jonathan asked.
"Dale's just upset that I didn't take the papers to a lawyer. But I read them a dozen times, and so did Mark. Everything was on the up and up." Joe nodded. "Besides, no businessman is worth more than his word."
Jonathan grinned. "You're right there."
"That's in Smallville, pop." The younger Ross shook his head. "Luthor's from Metropolis, remember? I just don't want to see something you and granddad worked so hard to build destroyed by someone like him."
"He wouldn't get rid of the creamed corn factory, would he?" Martha glanced over to make sure Clark and Peter were ok; they were watching the pumpkin carving. "That's the town's biggest employer."
"And the biggest buyer of our corn," Jonathan added. "But I'm sure it'll be o.k. Like Joe says, Luthor gave his word." However concerned he and other townspeople might be about the deal with LuthorCorp, Jonathan was determined not to upset Joe.
Dale frowned, clearly indicating what he thought of Lionel Luthor's word. But his wife patted him on the arm.
"Don't spoil the evening by getting worked up again, honey. Let the kids enjoy themselves; it's been a terrible week for everyone." Kate smiled again. "I hear both schools will be reopening Monday. It'll be a relief to get the kids back into their routine."
"I don't think any of us appreciated our routines 'til now," her husband nodded. "Have you two heard they'll be setting up a temporary FEMA office in the Talon?"
"It'll take months for all the paperwork to get straightened out," Joe sighed.
"I've heard some people's insurance companies are saying they won't cover the damage from the meteors. 'An act of god,' that's what they're calling it," Kate complained. "It's outrageous."
"Jonathan and I got lucky, just losing the truck," Martha sighed. "It could have been so much worse."
They were all silent for a moment, thinking of friends lost. All around them kids, finally able to forget the anxiety of the last few days, laughed and played.
"I wish Nell had brought Lana out," Martha shook her head.
Joe nodded in agreement. "She needs to be with other children."
"I don't think either of them are coping too well," Jonathan explained. "But Mrs. McIntyre is looking after them, and she knows what she's doing."
"It will be hard for both of them, but especially for Lana. Her old life is gone." Kate smiled sadly. "Children need stability, Martha—trust me on this. If you and Jonathan think you might be keeping Clark the sooner you get him settled in the better."
Martha exchanged a long look with her husband. Though neither one had admitted it yet, keeping Clark was very much in the forefront of their minds. Surely if no one else came forward the boy would need a home. And why not with the two people who had cared for him since his arrival?
Jonathan put an arm around his wife.
"We're working on it," he said with a smile.
p
"Nell? Your tea's ready," Josie McIntyre called into the living room.
The figure that stumbled into the kitchen hardly resembled the usually fashionable, fastidious Nell Potter. Her hair hadn't been styled in days, and she sported a pair of grungy old sweats. She accepted the mug of tea gratefully.
"Josie, you're a lifesaver. I keep reading and rereading Lewis and Laura's will, and I still can't make heads or tails out of it."
Josie clucked in sympathy. "Yes, legal papers are like that, aren't they? Maybe you could get one of the Ross' to look at them."
Nell shrugged. "Maybe." She glanced around the spacious kitchen. The house had belonged to her parents; Nell and her sister, Laura, had grown up in it. When their parents had died Nell had stayed in Smallville so she'd be close to her florist's shop. Taking over the old family home had seemed like the natural thing to do, though Nell often felt she rattled around in it all by herself.
But of course she was no longer by herself. The meteor shower had seen to that.
"Where's Lana?"
"Under the dining room table." Josie held up a hand before Nell could dart into the other room. "Leave her be, Nell. She has some of her dolls and she's playing quietly. Best not to upset her."
The younger woman set down her cup. "I can't stand this. If she's not under a table she's in the laundry hamper or out in the hayloft. I wish she'd quit hiding from me."
Josie touched Nell's arm. "She's not hiding from you, dear. She just needs some time to herself, to process what's happened. Children her age don't adapt to change very well."
"She's going to have to adapt sooner or later. Believe me, I'd do anything to bring my sister and her husband back, but that isn't going to happen." Nell's face crumpled. "We can't even bury them."
Josie nodded. The heat from the meteor had been so intense Sam and the others hadn't been able to find the Lang's remains. She consoled herself with the knowledge that in an impact like that the end would have been quick. In the blink of an eye it had all been over.
"But you can have a memorial service and headstones," Mrs. McIntyre suggested. "That will give everyone—especially Lana—a chance to say goodbye."
Nell only shrugged again. "I really can't think about that right now. The Ledger says thirty-four people died—there'll be funerals for weeks. I've got to get the florist shop open again, and send for Lana's things…" She clasped her hands over her eyes in despair. "God, how am I going to manage? I'm not a mother. I never wanted to be a mother."
"You come from good stock, Nell Potter. You'll make it all work, I know you will. At least Lana has a relative to stay with. Think of that poor child the Kents found, all alone, and nobody claiming him."
"Jonathan always wanted kids," Nell said with a wry smile. "Funny this is how he gets one." She frowned. "That sounded unkind—I'm sorry, Josie."
The doctor's wife nodded. She knew Jonathan Kent remained a sore spot with Nell. The whole town had expected Nell and Jonathan, high school sweethearts, to marry eventually. Instead Jonathan had married a woman from Metropolis, and Nell…Well, Nell seemed content to build a business. She had acquired a reputation as something of a businesswoman in town, buying the building that housed her shop as well as the Talon, and selling off some of her family's land now that they no longer farmed.
"At least with the land you sold you won't have to worry about Lana's future." Josie turned her attention back to the stove, where she was preparing a variety of different meals that could be frozen and thawed when Nell needed them.
"Yes, I suppose not." Nell allowed herself to think—just for a moment—about Lionel Luthor. He had been so handsome, so urbane when he'd dropped by to sign the papers completing the sale to LuthorCorp. Of course, he was married, and Nell didn't get involved with married men. But still….
"Mr. Luthor said they might be interested in acquiring more acreage if I want to sell. I've got to say, I find the money a lot more useful than having all that uncultivated land just sitting there."
"I'd be careful if I were you, Nell." Josie frowned as she tested a pot of spaghetti sauce for seasoning. "A lot of people in town don't think much of Lionel Luthor and don't think we should do business with him. After all, we don't know him from Adam."
Nell rolled her eyes. That was exactly what had always driven her crazy about this town---the narrow mindedness, the provincialism. In high school she had dreamed that she and Jonathan would be leaving all that behind, maybe moving to Metropolis. Hyrum Kent's illness may have kept Jonathan here, but she had never expected to get stuck here, too. And she didn't even have Jonathan as compensation.
"Lionel Luthor's going to do great things for this town, Josie. New businesses, new people. You can't stop progress. Besides, it's not like I had buyers lining up at my door. No one else can afford to purchase more land."
"Land rich and cash poor, like always," Josie smiled. "That's what it means to be a farmer, I guess."
A timer dinged and Mrs. MacIntyre removed a sheet of cookies from the oven.
"Sugar cookies, for Lana," she winked at Nell. "I cut them in the shape of little pumpkins since its Halloween."
Nell, who had flunked Home Ec, admired the neat little cookies. "They're cute, Josie. You know, Joe Ross called me and asked me to bring Lana to the party in town, but she refused to go. In fact, she burst into tears."
Nell scowled. Lana had been so excited about Halloween. This was the first year she'd been old enough to really appreciate the wonder of a holiday where you got to dress up and beg for candy. The child had been in her fairy costume the day of the meteor shower. Once Lana's parents had let her try it on they couldn't talk her into changing out of it.
"I know she looks silly," Laura had laughed. "But Lana can be really stubborn when she wants to be, and I can always wash it before she goes trick or treating."
As soon as the Red Cross people had come up with some clean clothes for the little girl Nell had stuffed the costume, stained with smoke and tears, into a garbage bag and thrown it in the dumpster behind the Talon.
Josie put some cookies on a plate and smiled.
"Why don't you take these in to her while they're still hot. They taste best that way."
Nell sighed, but nodded. Taking the plate in one hand and a carton of milk in the other she went through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. She knelt down and peered under the table.
Lana, her long dark hair pulled back from her face in a bow, had laid out all her dolls on the floor. Nell couldn't help but notice each lay on its back staring up helplessly.
"Hey, there. Mrs. McIntyre made you some cookies," Nell said gently. She set the plate down and gestured at the dolls. "What's all this?"
"They all died. I'm having a funeral," Lana explained.
A cold shiver ran down Nell's neck at the child's mater-of-fact tone.
"Sweetheart, you know that dollies can't die." She hastily started gathering up the grim display. "Come on now, let's not play that game anymore. It's too morbid."
"What's morbid?"
Nell sighed. "It's…well, never mind for now. I'll explain later. Here, eat a cookie."
Lana frowned, but accepted a cookie when Nell handed it to her. She took a quick bite. "Hot," she said approvingly.
"Yeah, she just made them."
The child's eyes filled with tears. "My mommy makes cookies, too."
Nell pulled the child, cookie and all, into her lap. "I know, baby. Your mommy used to make really good cookies. But she can't, not anymore. Do you understand?"
Lana shook her head fiercely. "No."
Kissing her niece's dark hair, Nell nodded. "I know you don't. I'm not sure I do, either. But I promise I'm going to take really good care of you. And you're going to help take care of me, too. Because that's what's families do."
p
As they drove home that night Martha kept thinking about what Kate had said. Sitting between them, Clark was gleefully pawing through the bag of candy and small toys every child had been given at the party. He kept taking everything out, examining it carefully, and then putting it all back in the bag. She loved the way Clark's forehead scrunched when he was thinking.
"He's so happy," she told her husband.
"Of course he is—he's a little boy full of sugar," Jonathan laughed as they pulled into their driveway.
He swung Clark out of truck and the boy shrieked happily. "Let's go, big fella. Time for bed."
Inside Martha led the two of them roughhouse for a while. They rolled around on the living room carpet like two happy puppies while she went upstairs to get Clark's pajamas. As soon as Clark saw the striped garments, however, he turned rebellious, clearly unwilling to go to bed when he was having so much fun.
"No," he said mulishly.
Jonathan sighed. "What were you telling Kate and Dale about him being a good sleeper?"
Martha shrugged. "Well, Joe did try to warn us." She made a grab for Clark, but the child ducked under her arm and headed for the back hall.
"I'll get him," Jonathan promised. "Come back here, young man," he said as he followed the sound of Clark's giggling. "No more playtime—it's bedtime."
"No."
Jonathan heard the muffled voice coming from the spare bedroom. Pausing in the doorway he couldn't see Clark, but he could hear the child laughing under the enormous bed.
"Ok, you. Out of there. I mean it. Martha's waiting to get you all ready for bed."
He sighed. Clark probably thought this was another game. "All right, I'm coming to get you." He dropped to his knees and stuck his head under the bed slats.
Clark was curled up in the far corner, smiling at him. The boy clapped his hands.
"This isn't a game, Clark. I want you to come out now."
Jonathan was relieved his grandfather had built the bed so high off the ground; he could slide most of his big body under it.
"Come out of there, Clark." He couldn't quite reach the child with his arm. How did parents manage when a child didn't obey?
"Clark, come out now or no story."
Jonathan heard Martha's voice from the doorway. He grinned. The cavalry had arrived.
In the darkness Jonathan could see the child was weighing his options. Play, or story? That must be a tough call for a toddler to make.
Half under the bed Jonathan waited for Clark to make up his mind. There was no way the child could wriggle away; he'd have to come out sooner or later…
And then suddenly the bed frame lifted off him.
"What the…!?!" Jonathan quickly slid back out from under the bed.
"Jonathan, what's happening?" Martha cried.
They both stood there in awe as the bed seemed to levitate before their eyes. Only it wasn't levitating. They could see Clark now, quite clearly, holding the bed up by the corner. The little boy laughed at the astonished expressions on their faces.
"Jonathan, do something, he'll hurt himself…"
"I don't think so, Martha." He cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Clark, come out of there right now. You heard Martha tell you. Don't you want to be a good boy?"
The child frowned, clearly disappointed the adults didn't think his little joke was as funny as he did. The bed went down with a crash.
Jonathan dropped to his knees again, ready to snatch Clark out of danger if he'd been pinned against the wall, but Clark crawled out on his own.
He stood up on his short little legs, smiling bashfully. "Story," he opined, clearly having made up his mind about what he valued more.
Martha sank to the floor. Jonathan wanted to stand up but couldn't quite get his legs to function.
"Did we just see what I think we saw?" Martha whispered hoarsely.
"That bed weighs five hundred pounds, easy. It took six men to carry it downstairs." Jonathan shook his head, staring at Clark.
The boy cocked his head to one side. "Story," he repeated.
Martha recovered first, holding out her arms for the child.
"Martha, don't…"
His wife hugged Clark from her position on the floor. "He's only a baby, Jonathan—he doesn't know he did anything wrong." She took Clark's face in her hands. "That was very naughty, Clark," she told him, her voice shaking only slightly. "You must always listen to what Jonathan and I tell you. Always, do you understand?"
Clark looked alarmed by her distress. He buried his face in her sweater, sniffling apologetically.
Jonathan wiped his brow. "I just don't understand this. How can he do that? What is he?"
"He's a little boy, the same little boy you were playing with five minutes ago."
"Martha, no little boy can lift weights like that!"
"Keep your voice down, Jonathan, you're frightening him."
Clark had started to whimper. Martha kissed his hair.
"It's ok, baby. Everything's ok. You just scared us, is all."
She picked him up again and stood. "I'm going to put him to bed. Then we can talk."
Jonathan watched helplessly as his wife carried Clark out of the room. He could hear her footsteps on the stairs, and knew she'd be putting the child to sleep in their bed again.
He sat still for a long moment, rubbing his chin and trying to make sense of what was happening. Finally he got up and, without a word to Martha, grabbed his coat and went outside.
The harvest moon hung low and round in the sky as he unlocked the barn door and swung it open.
The familiar smells of hay and animals greeted him. He'd spent at least part of nearly every day of his life in this barn. As a boy he'd had chores to do; as a teenager he'd taken over most of the work after his father had been diagnosed with a heart condition. By eighteen he'd taken over the running of the farm completely. He'd often wondered what he would do when he became too old to run things properly. He had no son or daughter to ease the burdens of old age.
Jonathan crossed to the far corner and lifted the tarps that covered the strange object he and Martha had found in the field with Clark. It lay tilted to one side, gleaming faintly in the moonlight sifting down from the rafters. He could no longer lie to himself about what it was.
It was a spaceship.
"Seems like a million years ago, doesn't it?"
Jonathan whirled around at the sound of his wife's voice. She stood in the doorway smiling softly.
"Hard to believe it's only been a few days." Martha came to stand next to him and took his hand. "Clark's already so much a part of our lives, Jonathan."
"Martha, you know we probably wouldn't have been able to keep him, even if he was a normal child. But he's not. We can't lie to ourselves. He's not normal. He isn't even human."
Martha released his hand. "He looks and acts just like a normal little boy, Jonathan. You saw him with Peter Ross…"
"But he isn't like us, Martha. He's a…..a…"
In the faint light Jonathan could see his wife's eyes fill with tears.
"Just say it, Jonathan."
"He's an alien, Martha." As the words came out Jonathan had a hard time believing them himself. But he was no longer going to deny the evidence before his own eyes.
"That child asleep in our bed fell to earth from God knows where. He may look like a child now, but he's already stronger than a grown man. Who knows what will happen as he gets older? Who knows why he's here?"
Martha stood her ground. "Maybe he was sent here. Because I wanted him."
Jonathan moaned. "Martha, you know that isn't true…"
"I don't know that isn't true, Jonathan! All these years we've been waiting and trying and praying for a child and this one comes to us! How can you say he isn't supposed to be ours?"
Hearing the rising tide of hysteria in his wife's voice, Jonathan embraced her and held her tightly.
"I know that's what you want to believe, honey. I'd like to believe it, too. But it just isn't so." He could feel Martha's warm tears soaking though his shift front. "He can't stay here, Martha. You and I can't handle him."
"So what do we do?" His wife said in a muffled voice.
"We need to find people better equipped to handle this kind of thing."
Martha sniffed loudly. "Who? The FBI? The CIA? Who handles little boys who fall from the sky, Jonathan?"
"I don't know, honey." He shook his head. "I just don't know."
/html