Martha sits wringing her hands, tasting the cinnamon that lingers in the air as she tries to calm herself with gentle breaths. The silence is cut only by the sounds of her pounding heart she's sure Audrey can hear from across the table.
A noise erupts, snapping the silence, startling both women so much that their heads whip around to the door, thinking their worst fear has just caught up with them. Instinctively their hands go to each other, each trying to comfort the other. Realizing it's simply the air escaping from the mason jars as they seal with a 'pop', they are able to sigh a breath of relief, their eyes telling each other at least for the moment everything is okay.
Martha wants to be able to speak the words 'it's okay," but she can't. How can she say it's okay that someone just confessed to knowing all about her son, without stating how she gained the knowledge, or what she plans to do with it?
"I know you don't know me Mrs. Kent," Audrey offers, squeezing Martha's hand reassuringly, "but I promise you I did not come here to expose Clark. What I know about him will never again leave my lips," Audrey says, her eyes pleading with Martha to hear her words.
All of her life Martha had been blessed with the ability to read people, and now when she needs that gift the most it does not fail her. She listens to her heart, deciding to trust the young girl who appears as on edge as Martha feels.
Swallowing hard, Martha pushes down all of her fears, deciding it's best to move forward with acceptance.
"Thank you for not keeping this a secret from me," Martha begins, suddenly hearing the hypocrisy in her statement. Feeling a pang of guilt, she begins again, offering "I guess you think we're awful for hiding such a secret from the world."
"You don't have to explain why you did to me. For months I've had the weight of it pressing on my chest. Believe me when I say I fully understand the importance of this secret," Audrey says with the most strength in her voice Martha has heard.
Their eyes lock. Each woman coming to a place of understanding for the other's position. They still have a lot to learn about each other, but the fact that they are so much alike helps them take the first step.
Martha leans towards Audrey, not sure where the road will take her, but knowing she must take the trip. Looking deep into Audrey's pale green eyes, she asks, "Can I ask how you found out him?"
Audrey nods, knowing she can't go back. Straightening her back in the chair, she draws in her breath, "I have a way of getting mixed up with powerful people. I guess you could say I'm poisoned with one of them."
Blushing, she continues, "the more I have tried to not get involved, the deeper I seem to plunge." Defeated, she confesses, "But I guess you can't help who you fall in love with."
The porch door slams, snapping both women out of their deep conversation. Jonathan comes into the kitchen, crossing the room for a cup of coffee. Overly cautious of his company, he keeps his distance, realizing for the first time in a long time his sex is outnumbered.
"Did I interrupt something?" Jonathan senses the sudden silence at his presence, his protector gene going into overload.
Audrey visibly tenses, uneasy with too many people knowing her story.
"Just good old fashioned girl talk, Jonathan," Martha bluffs with a wink to Audrey. "There's nothing you need worry about."
"Just keep my name out of it," Jonathan says, swinging down to plant a kiss on Martha's cheek.
"We will," Martha answers as she watches her husband leave the kitchen heading back to his never-ending chores. "Jonathan doesn't need to know anything."
Audrey exhales, relieved to keep everything between just her and Martha.
x X x X x
The hollow echo of heels clicking against the marble hallway fills the ears of Elizabeth, a young maid in the mansion. She still has trouble finding her way the cavernous mansion although she's been employed for almost a month now. Typically, she contains her day's activities to the wing of the mansion she has charge over: the guest bedrooms.
It's actually an easy job for her since she typically changes clean sheets she just changed the day before. How sad, she can't help but think, that such a rich man with such a magnificent house would have so few visitors. Apart from the very rare overnight visit of the intimidating father who stays in his own magnificently kept bedroom, she's yet to have the opportunity to change sheets that have been slept in or cleaned a sink which have been used.
"Oh, shoot," she whispers to herself as she runs into a dead end. How could the architect have designed so many dead end hallways in this place?
Normally she isn't so poor at directions, but the package in her hands, roughly rewrapped in its brown shipping paper, has her on edge. A few of the senior staff members had insisted that Mr. Luthor would not care to see it, and that it should be immediately sent down to storage, after of course, it went through all the appropriate security measures.
It's odd at how insistent they were to bury this package when Jane could see much more pedestrian mail separated into the pile that will actually cross Mr. Luthor's desk. But, when she saw the contents of the package, she couldn't help but feel compelled to make sure that her employer see it.
Not that Elizabeth is ambitious, far from it actually. She has no intention of ingratiating herself to Mr. Luthor in some hamfisted attempt to be transferred out of her current assignment or garner a raise. It's quite the opposite. She'd happily be content having never to see 'the boss,' as other staff members often referred to him, while just enjoying her quiet days toiling around the guest quarters lost in her own thoughts. She already considered herself overpaid for the job she's entrusted with.
Making sure that Mr. Luthor sees this package was something she has to do. Perhaps it's the romantic in her.
Elizabeth's eyes trail up from the brown paper to catch just a quick glimpse of purple Armani shrinking around a corner.
"Mr. Luthor!" she screams like a schoolgirl, which she will be again if she can ever summon the funds to return to college. She breaks into a light jog to catch him, and is startled when she finds him patiently waiting for her around the corner.
"Elizabeth," Lex begins, "what are you doing here so late?"
Elizabeth's eyes fly wide. 'He knows my name,' she thinks to herself, unbelieving. 'And he knows my schedule.'
"I...well, I thought..." she stammers, a bit frightened.
"It's okay, I'm not my father, I won't bite," Lex enthuses, hoping to calm the girl.
Elizabeth smiles at his charm. "The others say your father's bark is worse than his bite, anyway."
"They do?" Lex asks. "They're wrong. What's this you have?" he changes the subject.
"Oh, it's a package sent for you. To you! I mean," she's excited and tries to calm down before saying, "It's a package for you."
"Why do you have it? If you don't mind my asking," Lex inquires.
Elizabeth didn't quite know if he was still pouring on the charm, or clearing his vocal chords to yell.
"Well, I had to save it. It was being sent to storage. But, when I saw it I knew you had to see it," she pulls herself together.
"Let's see it, then," Lex completely trusts her. He pulls off the paper to see a small framed painting. He stares at it long and hard, forgetting for a second that Elizabeth is there.
"Sir?" Elizabeth says, feeling as though Lex just drifted away from the mansion, his eyes possessing something she can't quite put her finger on.
"Isn't it exquisite?" Elizabeth asks, raising the tone of her voice, her naivety allowing her to prod the impenetrable billionaire.
"Are you a fan of art, Elizabeth?" Lex asks, covering the fact that he was snatched out of his thoughts.
"Exceptional art can make a fan of anyone," Elizabeth says. Seeing that Lex is just about done with her she begins to shrink away.
"Don't forget to put in for your overtime," Lex smiles.
"And Elizabeth," he begins, pausing. "You were right to bring this to me. It is exquisite."
Elizabeth plans to sear the image of that smile into her memory forever.