Festive
Chloe peered through the windshield of her red VW Beetle as she slowly rolled up the long driveway--the swirling snow made it difficult to see, and she had been just barely able to make out the "KENT FARM" sign that indicated where to turn off the road. The farmhouse appeared suddenly before her, lit up in the darkness, and she stopped the car next to the Kents' pickup truck and got out, taking with her a wrapped and ribboned package sitiing on the passenger seat. She shut the door and looked up at the house, which seemed warm and friendly to her whenever she saw it, but particularly so now, on a cold and snowy night in Decemeber. A bitter gust of wind came howling out of the blackness and cut through her thin coat, making her shiver, and she hurriedly made her way up onto the porch and knocked on the door. Very shortly a cheerful-looking Jonathan Kent appeared in the window, a moment before the door swung open.
"Chloe! Come on in; it's freezing out there."
"Thank you, Mr. Kent." She entered, put her parcel down on the kitchen table and hung her coat over a chair. The chill went out of her as she looked around at the Kents' idyllic home, which now featured a large Christmas tree twinkling merrily away in a corner of the living room.
"I'm just on my way out to pick up Martha at the Talon," Jonathan told her. He put on his sheepskin coat and bellowed up the stairs, "Clark, I'm leaving now! And Chloe's downstairs!" He patted her on the shoulder and departed. Chloe went over and sat down on the couch. She gazed at the tree for a minute or two, and her mind wandered. A couple of crude homemade ornaments caught her eye--made by Clark as a boy, perhaps?
A series of thuds from the stariway announced his imminent arrival, and she turned to see him enter the room, wearing a garish woolen sweater covered with trees and bells and other seasonal icons. "Hi, Chloe," he said with a smile.
"Hi, Clark--that's a dynamite sweater. Say, did you make this?" She reached out and touched a brown misshapen piece of clay hanging from a branch--her best guess was that it represented a reindeer.
"Um, yeah. Don't make fun; I was little, and we were all making them in class. Mine didn't come out so well, but--."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of mocking you; besides, it's adorable," Chloe said, grinning. Clark sat down on the couch beside her and asked how her Christmas break had been so far.
"Dull--you know I get antsy when there's nothing for me to investigate for the Torch. Still, my dad and I are going to Metropolis tomorrow for a few days to spend Christmas with some of the other Sullivans, and they're a lively bunch..."
"I'll bet," interjected Clark.
"...and Lana's riding with us, to visit Nell." Clark nodded, already knowing this. His gaze wandered and he spotted the brightly-coloured package on the table in the other room. "Now that looks a lot like a Christmas present," he remarked.
"Of course it is, goofus; it's for you--I told you I'd be coming by with something. You can open it now, or on Christmas morning; your choice."
"I'll save it--I never open presents early. And I've got something for you, of course; you can take it with you when you go. Which won't be for a while, I hope--stay and hang out. My parents have people to visit and won't be back for ages. I could get a fire going, and there's loads to snack on--my mom's been baking constantly."
"I'd love to," she said, and meant it. She watched him fondly as he knelt down and busied himself arranging logs, kindling, and old newspapers, using up a number of matches and blowing at the struggling fire in an effort to get it going (she was four months from learning that this rigamarole had been for her benefit, that he could set things ablaze with a glance). Eventually cheery orange-and-yellow flames filled the grate. Chloe applauded his sucesss; he laughed and ambled away into the kitchen. and she wondered for the millionth-or-so time if the day would ever come when she and Clark could be together. He returned, carrying two glasses of eggnog, and sat down again by her side, and she suddenly thought, "Yes, it has to--I'm certain of it."
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The next day, the twenty-fourth of December, was bright and just a little below freezing. Clark was driving the truck into town, ordered by his mother to pick up a few necessities for Christmas dinner. He was humming along with the radio as he rounded a bend, then he braked hard and pulled over to the side of the road. He looked ahead in disbelief, and no little amusement. A familiar sports car with a familar vanity plate had evidently slid off the road due to the icy conditions, and its owner was standing beside it, seemingly unhurt but looking very angry. He had just flung something to the ground in disgust, then Lex Luthor turned to look at the truck, and his expression changed as he recognized it. Clark hopped out.
"You look like you could use some help, Lex."
"I..yes, Clark, I could. I'd have had people from the mansion come out here, but my cellphone's dead. If you could give me a lift..."
"I'll do better than that." He grabbed a coil of rope from behind the seat in the truck's cab, and tossed one end of it to Lex. "Tie it to your rear axle and I'll pull you out of the ditch," he said, and then tied his end to the truck's trailer hitch. The Porsche had only suffered minor damage, but was stuck fast, with one of its rear wheels off of the ground. Extricating it was a simple operation, and the car was soon back on the road, just slightly the worse for wear.
In general, things weren't good between Clark and Lex; their friendship had practically disintegrated. That business with Lex's secret research into him that had come to a head in the spring seemed impossible for him to forgive or forget, but lately he had been thinking that perhaps he ought to do just that. Lex had his faults, serious ones, but had he, Clark, always been such a great friend to Lex? He was forced to admit that he had not.
"Thank you, Clark; I appreciate the help." Lex extended a black-gloved hand, which Clark shook.
"You're welcome," he replied, but made no move to leave. Clark didn't want to embarass him by asking what his plans for Christmas were--with no family besides an estranged father, and few, if any, friends, Lex would likely be spending the holiday alone in the austere confines of the Luthor castle, or as alone as a man with a full complement of servants and security personnel can be. Instead he asked, "If you aren't busy, do you want to grab a cup of coffee in town? The Talon's closed, of course, wtih Lana out of town, but I think the Beanery's open."
Lex considered, then answered, "I'm not busy. All right; let's go." They got into their respective vehicles and drove on down the road into town.
Smallville looked quite picturesque, festooned with Chrsitmas decorations and covered with a dusting of snow; the town's centre was busy with people making last-minute purchases before the shops closed at four o'clock. Clark and Lex found parking spots a couple blocks away and walked up to the Beanery, which was crowded. The health-code violations exposed in the Smallville Ledger three years back had only had a short-term effect ot the cafe's business; evidently there was room in Smallville for two coffeehouses after all. The two men entered, manuevered themselves through the throng to a free table, and placed orders with a harried-looking waitress.
Clark adopted a mock-serious expression and said, "Now, Lex, admit it, you were driving too fast for the conditions, weren't you? And is the Porsche really the best choice from your fleet of vehicles for winter in Kansas?"
"I suppose not. Perhaps I should be driving the gardener's pickup truck." He looked around. "You know, I haven't been here since Lana and I opened the Talon--well, why would I? It's the competition." said Lex.
"Yeah, I've only come in a couple of times since then."
"Times when you didn't want to see her?"
Clark looked vaguely sheepish. "That's right." Changing the subject from Lana, he began, "I read about your father's release from prison--"
Lex broke in, "He was pardoned--unbelieveable. I'm looking into it--I'm also keeping a very close eye on him. He claims to have had some sort of epiphany in there..." The two talked on, chatting companionably for some time--it had been a long while since they had talked like this. Lex finished his coffee, and pronounced, "Better than I remembered. There's a lesson in that, Clark; everyone benefits from a little competition."
They stood up and put on their coats. Clark thought for a moment and then said, "Why don't you stop by tomorrrow aftrenoon?"
Lex looked unsure. "The farm? Oh, I don't know, Clark. Your dad..."
"I'll square it with him." This would actually take a bit of doing, but enough mentions of 'the spirit of the season' and Lex's grim, empty home would likely soften his dad up, he felt, at least enough for him to be civil. "Really, you ought to come by. Mom's eggnog is especially good this year."
"Well...sure, Clark. I'd like that." They stood up and went outside, where it was once again snowing, but more gently than yesterday. Clark still had to go to the supermarket so he bade Lex goodbye, and turned to go.
"Clark, wait a second." He turned back. Lex looked as if here were about to say something, but then shook his head, waved and turned away, walking toward his car. Clark made his way up the street toward the market, absent-mindedly whistling "Good King Wenceslaus" (it had been playing at the Beanery). He arrived at the market, and held open the door for a woman leaving, heavily burdened with her purchases. "Thank you, Mr. Kent," she said, and Clark, surprised, saw that it was the sheriff, out of uniform and looking smart in a fur-limed coat.
"Hello, sheriff. Merry Christmas."
THE END