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The next morning, Lana awoke to the aroma of fresh coffee filtering in from downstairs. It took her a moment to adjust to the blinding, morning Kansas sun seeping in through the drawn plaid curtains of the room. She breathed in Clark's masculine scent that had so stubbornly clung on to the room even after his departure from the farm.

The smell of freshly brew coffee was to be her defeat, as Lana rolled over, facing the night stand. She smiled lazily as she noticed a bouquet of lavender irises sitting on it, seemingly covered by morning dew. She slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Lana breathed in the fresh scent of the flowers, and gingerly picked up the letter left lying next to it.

My Dearest Lana,

As I write this to you, you are safely tucked into the warmth of flannel sheets, slumbering peacefully. I guess that our long night last night tired you out. I'm sorry if that's the case...but I can't help it. I enjoy talking to you...sitting with you...listening with you. It's these moments that I live for...

I asked you last evening if we could do something today. The truth is...I've been planning this day for quite a while. I miss your company, your laughter, and your inspiring words. A few nights sharing memories with you isn't enough for me anymore.

There's so much more that I have to say to you, but for now, this is it. The rest will come later.

I'll be waiting,

Clark

P.S. Dress casually...and bring along the bouquet.

Only Clark Kent could leave such cryptic messages in the late morning, Lana thought, smiling. She carefully folded the note up and placed it back on the nightstand, along with the bouquet, which had nine irises.

After contemplating about what Clark meant by casual, Lana decided to go with the jeans that she had originally worn to Smallville and the white and pink blouse that she had been wearing. She then ran a brush through her hair, weaving it into two loose braids fairly quickly. Once she had finished changing, she made a trip to the bathroom down the hall to freshen up before heading downstairs.

The smell of coffee beans was even stronger in the kitchen. Lana couldn't help but breathe in the invigorating scent as she helped herself to a cup of coffee. There was another note left lying next to the coffee pot.

Lana,

Thought that you'd like some coffee to wake you up. It's your favorite...mocha with a sprinkle of cinnamon in it. Don't be too surprised that I remember it...after all, who was the one that was practically kicked out of bed on the third Sunday morning of every month to make it?

Clark

P.S. Look outside. Your ride awaits you.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she finished the note. He never seized to amaze her.

On the third Sunday of every month, both Jonathon and Martha Kent would head out for Grandville for the annual farmer's market where they met with friends and associates. Lana remembered how they would stay up late, waiting for his parents to fall asleep. Then, they would sneak up to Clark's room and make love until the wee hours of the morning, knowing that his parents would be out of the house by six and back at 9 at night. She and Clark would then proceed to stay in bed all day, with the satisfaction that they wouldn't be caught.

Ignoring the growling sensation in her stomach, Lana hurried to the door where she slipped out a pair of beat-up sneakers that Martha had been kind enough to lend her. The screen door shut behind her, the noise concealing her gasp of surprise and excitement.

A white mare was waiting for her at the bottom of the porch steps, its reins tied to the porch railing to prevent it from roaming. She cautiously approached and stroked the mare's head, getting a soft neigh in response. She hadn't ridden a horse in years...not since her leg had gotten trampled by that horse in her junior year of high school. She had never bothered to try again after that.

There was a note attached to the saddle and she perused it quickly before mounting the mare. She was a bit rusty at riding, but just like painting, her talent had never truly faded.

Clark glanced up as heard the trotting of horse hooves. He scrambled to his feet, an iris in one hand. He grinned when he noticed the glow on her face, having seen the picnic set up by him.

"Hey," she greeted quietly. She had brought along the bouquet just as he had asked and after dismounting ever so gracefully, she held it out for him to take.

Clark inserted the last iris into the self-made bouquet and handed it back to her. "An iris for every year we've been apart."

A smile graced her features as she accepted the bouquet from him. "Thank you." She figured the deep purple tissue paper that he had used to wrapped around the flower stems. After a moment in thought, she looked up, her head turned in the direction of the picnic.

Clark looked behind his shoulder, then back to her. "Want some breakfast?"

"It's technically brunch now, since it's past noon." She brushed past him, making sure to touch his arm briefly. The touch itself was electrifying, but the action was a wakeup call for the both of them. This day, this moment, this second...all were opportunities that would slip past like sand in an hourglass, if neither one of them acted. Whatever force that drove them apart, it had brought them back together.

And as Clark stood there, watching her start on the mini sandwiches that he had whipped up, he realized that he could either act now, or lose her forever. How long would it be until Jason was knocking at the door? It had probably been two weeks since their arrival to Smallville. It wouldn't be long until history repeated itself and one of them bolted out of fear of pain and rejection.

"Are you going to join me, or are you going to stand there until pigs start flying over our heads?" Lana called from the plaid blanket that Clark he laid out over the lush emerald grass.

He smiled and made his way over to her, taking a seat to the left of her. Once he had settled down, Lana orchestrated an intimate position, climbing on top of his lap and leaning against his chest.

He recalled the last time that they had been in this position, under this very oak tree. It was the day before he had left to fulfill his destiny. Clark had carved a heart with their initials into the base of the tree with his heat vision.

As if reading his mind, Lana spoke up. "Do you think it's still here?"

He didn't need to ask to what she was referring to. Lana gently scooted off his lap and stood up, brushing bread crumbs off of her blouse. Clark followed suit, and soon the two were examining the bark of the tree.

Lana traced her fingers over the rough exterior, hoping that she would find a groove. Her breath caught as she paused and squinted at the trunk.

"Clark, I think I found it," she breathed, tracing the heart with her fingertips.

He hurried over and stood over her shoulder. CK loves LL.

Memories of a past life were flooding back to him as he stood behind the love of his life. Their first kiss...their first time making love...their first moments. Most remembered the firsts, but what about the lasts? The last kiss...the last time he held her hands...the last he felt her naked skin against his. Weren't they as significant?

He watched as she bent down to the very root of the majestic oak tree and reached her hand into a hollow hole of the trunk. Carefully, she pulled out a wooden box with two carved entwined swans on it. He had given that box to her on her 18th birthday. It was meant as a jewelry box, to hold precious metals and gems, and other sentiments of the heart. Instead, it had acted as a box of the future, holding hopes and dreams. He remembered the day clearly when they had found the hole in the trunk and decided to appoint the tree the keeper of their dreams.

"Are you sure about this Lana?" he asked as she placed a small sheet of stationary with neat cursive curled on top into her box.

"Don't you want to look back one day and see how life turned out?" Lana asked, handing the box to him.

"I guess..." He pulled out her predictions and fingered it. "I'm just a little scared of what I might find in the future."

"Isn't everyone?" she asked, snatching her paper back before he got a chance to read it. "C'mon, Clark. Don't you want to come back here ten years from now and open this box with me?"

"If I had it my way, there would be no need for this box because every one of my predictions would be true," Clark said, as he placed his paper into the box, along with hers.

Lana simply gave him a quick kiss on the cheek to keep him from whining as she closed the box and tucked it into the tree trunk.

"There." She stood up and brush dirt off of her hands. "Now, promise me that we will open this box together."

"That shouldn't be hard to keep since I'm not planning on going anywhere." He wrapped his arms around her petite waist and gave her right ear a loving nuzzle.

"I can't believe that it's still here," Lana whispered, looking up at Clark.

"Open it," he urged her gently.

Slowly, but surely, she lifted the lid with the swans off. Their predictions were still inside, albeit yellow.

"C'mon." Clark took her hand and led her around the tree, back to the picnic blanket. He sat down with her in between his legs.

Lana slowly lifted the first sheet of stationary out. He could tell by the neat cursive that it was hers. She began reading aloud.

"Clark and I--okay, well, I suggested that we write down predictions or hopes that we have for the next ten years. Clark didn't seem that into it, but I managed to sway him." She paused and Clark could tell by the slight blush that she was also recalling her powers of persuasion that she had used the night before their venture out into the meadow.

"Here are my predictions for the future. They may seem naïve and childish when I look back on them ten years from now, but I hope that at least one of them will happen."

Lana paused again. Clark could feel her shaking in his arms slightly. He tenderly urged her to continue.

"In four years from now, I will have graduated from Central Kansas, with a degree in humanities or maybe art. Clark will have gone to Central Kansas as well and he will be standing next to me in the procession because of our last names.

In six years from now, Clark and I will have moved to Metropolis. We will have an apartment overlooking the lake with Waterport City in the distance, on the other side."

At this point, Lana's voice had begun to shake so bad, that Clark had to pour a cup of warm coffee from the thermos that he had stuffed in the picnic basket.

"It's okay, Lana. You don't have to continue," he said softly, pushing the styrofoam cup into her hands.

She took a sip from the cup before shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I just..." she trailed off, not really knowing how to explain it.

Clark began gathering up the papers, but Lana put her hand on his.

"No...I want you to read it. Pick up from where I left off," she said, her voice barely audible.

Before he could protest, she stuffed the predictions into his hands. The haunted expression on her face made him want to tear apart these papers, but he knew that she wanted him to continue.

"In seven years from now, Clark will be writing for the Daily Planet while I'll be working in an art gallery in downtown Metropolis.

In ten years from now..." Clark paused and looked down at Lana before continuing. "In ten years from now, I will be married to Clark Kent."

A lump formed in his throat as he slowly folded up the sheet of paper and placed it back into the box with his own predictions. Alarmed at the sniffle that suddenly sounded, he glanced down.

Lana was furiously rubbing at her eyes. They were downcast, avoiding his own.

"Don't cry, Lana. I hate it when you cry."

She mumbled something and quickly pushed herself off his lap.

Clark's brows knitted in confusion as he watched her get up and walk swiftly away. "Lana..."

He scrambled to his feet and raced to her side, gently grabbing her hand and spinning her around. Instead of allowing him to comfort her like she usually did, she recoiled, pulling her hand away as if bitten by a venomous snake.

"Why didn't you come back? You promised me that you would," she whispered. Although her voice was barely above a whisper, her tone and expression was enough for him to jump as if she had slapped him. Clark would have liked a slap instead of the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach and the dead weight on his chest.

"I know."

"Did you just expect me to forget and forgive? That everything would be hunky dory in the end?" Her voice was rising and there were angry tears in her eyes, threatening to spill.

Clark bowed his head, remaining silent. He knew that he deserved every word that was coming out of her mouth right now. He had made her a promise, and he had broken it, just like the many other promises that he had made. Lana had let him slide on so many others...but not this one. No matter how much he had intended to keep his promise on that day, he knew that it was a mistake. It was that promise that had haunted him for the past ten years.

"I waited for you..." She was sobbing hard now. "I spent eight years waiting for you. Did you know that the first time Jason proposed to me was the year after I had graduated from Met U? I said 'no', that time, still clinging on to hope that you would come back. But you didn't.

You promised me that day...you promised that you would come back to me. You fed me lies of a romantic wedding under our tree and you told me about the kids that we would have." Lana faltered, sobs wrecking her body. When there was no response from him, she spat out, "Well, say something!"

He swallowed the lump in his throat, daring himself to lift his eyes to meet hers. "Lana...I'm sorry. If I could take it all back...everything...I would."

"But you can't, can you?" She asked quietly. In the treetops, birds were chirping happily, completely obvious to the situation taking place below them.

"Lana..."

"We could have been married by now...with kids, even," she breathed, her tears sparkling under the Kansas sun.

"Lana...you know that I can't give you everything that Jason can give you," Clark admitted. "I can't buy you a $5000 gown or a $10,000 engagement ring."

Her nostrils flared up, her eyes riveted on him. "Do you honestly think that I care about that? Is that how shallow you see me?"

"No! I'm just saying..." Clark closed his eyes and took a breath, stepping closer to her. When he opened his eyes, her angelic face was mere inches away from his. "Lana...I can't buy you expensive jewelry or clothes. I can only give you my heart." He took her hand and placed it over his beating heart.

She closed her eyes, having calmed down. Finally, she opened her eyes, shining brightly from fresh tears. "Clark...I've spent the past ten years wondering if you still love me. Please don't say you do unless you mean it."

Clark tenderly brushed her tears away with his thumb. Slowly, he bent down, brushing his lips with hers. Their lips tangled, as if they were strangers getting acquainted.

Although both of them knew that their next actions were irrational and immoral, their hearts deemed it appropriate. Soon, their lips and the rest of their body found itself tangled up in Clark's boyhood comforter.

"I love you, Lana," Clark breathed in her ear, his fingers tangled in her hair.

Lana opened her eyes until they were mere slits, her greenish hazel eyes staring up at him. "I love you, too, Clark." She lifted a hand to stroke his handsome, boyish face, tracing the lines of concentration as he moved above her.

He buried his head into the crook of her head, simply enjoying her naked skin underneath his. He knew that once their reason and logic returned to them, they would need to have a talk. But for now, he concentrated on making love to the woman that had haunted him for the past ten years of his life.

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