Chapter 3

Meeting

Friday - Early morning

Having plenty of time to kill before the early evening start of the barbeque at Ezra Small Park, Clark spent the morning touring his hometown to see what had changed in the years he'd been gone.

The high school was now in a larger, more modern building and the old high school building now housed the middle school. The field where Clark had made his name as a football player was now where 13 and 14-year-olds took their first steps on the road to glory.

Cruising around town, Clark found that the city limits had expanded greatly over the years. So much so, that he wondered how long it would take before his parents' old farm was in the city instead of well outside it. The population, which had been listed as 45,000 when he was in high school, had grown rapidly and was now just short of 60,000 thanks, in part, to a major facility expansion by Luthor Corp. New housing subdivisions had sprung up all over, filling what had once been cornfields with a new kind of crop…families.

Out of curiosity, Clark headed out to the Luthor Mansion and found the gates barred. A notice attached to the gates said the estate was for sale by Luthor Corp and that serious inquiries could be made at the offices of the local Coldwell Banker agency.

Clark smiled to himself and thought, It'll be a cold day in hell before anyone around here buys this monstrosity. I'll bet the price on this place is at least 10 million dollars.

Not really paying attention where he was going, Clark finally found himself in the general vicinity of the old Kent Farm despite his original intention to avoid his childhood home. Once he realized where he was, however, he was unable to stop himself from driving by Lana's old house. He pulled his now dusty Audi over to the side of the road and stared for a minute at the second floor window that used to be Lana's. Things were simpler when all I had to worry about was how to get the girl of my dreams to notice me, and now…

Clark shook his head and pulled back onto the road, making the turn down Hickory Lane toward his old home. As the familiar barn and yellow house came into view, Clark's focus on the house and grounds precluded the chance he might read the name on the mailbox. The grounds were immaculately kept, with a profusion of spring flowers in neat flowerbeds surrounding the house.

The land that had been for grazing and crops, however, had been turned into just another cookie-cutter subdivision, the kind where the only way to tell the houses apart was by the addresses attached to each house and stenciled on the street-side curbs. Well, that answers one question, Clark thought. This is definitely not a farm anymore, just someone's home. I hope they love it like I did.

Looking back one more time at his house before driving off, he was glad that whoever owned it now had taken a special joy from keeping the house beautiful. If Mom drove up right now, he thought, she'd not be able to tell she hadn't lived here in years. Clark changed his mind about leaving and, instead, drove up to the house to thank the owners for preserving the house's special character.

They'll think I'm nuts, but things like this are important to me these days. This house still looks like a home, much more so than the cold, impersonal apartment I live in now.

Climbing the worn treads leading to the back door, Clark knocked sharply on the door frame and waited. When no one answered, he quickly x-rayed the house to be sure no one was home and then pulled out a pen and his ever-present notepad to leave a short note.

Dear Homeowner,

I used to live in this house from the time I was three years old until I moved away after college. Today is my first glimpse of the place since my mother sold the farm after I left.

I just wanted to thank you for the meticulous way you have taken care of this wonderful house. Even though I no longer live here, it still looks more like a home than anything I will ever find in Metropolis.

Here's hoping you love this house at least half as much as I do.

Respectfully Yours,

Clark Kent

Having seen everything from the 'new' windmill in Chandler's Field, to the sprawling expanse of the Luthor Corp complex, to the modestly-sized shopping mall that was built just a few years back, Clark ate a lunch of take-out Chinese before changing clothes and heading out to Crater Lake for a swim.

Friday afternoon - Smallville High

Lana looked up at the clock and swore under her breath when she noticed the time was still closer to 2 p.m. than it was to 3 p.m.

"What was that, Ms. Lang?" asked a nearby student.

Lana flushed in embarrassment, and said airily, "Oh nothing. Just checking the time." Is this school day ever going to be over? Apparently not any time soon.

Lana's art students were sitting in a circle surrounding a still-life arrangement that everyone was sketching. She flitted from student to student, giving only the most cursory of glances at each student's efforts, when normally, she would painstakingly assess their work.

The longer the class dragged on, the more frequent Lana's glances at the clock became, until nearly everyone noticed that their teacher was more anxious to leave today than they were.

Finally, with five minutes until the bell rang, Lana clapped her hands and told her students to stop sketching, cleanup their areas, and turn in their efforts for grading.

By the time the bell rang, Lana had a haphazard stack of paper on the corner of her desk. As she began to neaten the stack, one student who had stayed behind cleared her throat and waited for Lana to take notice.

Lana looked up and asked, "Yes, Jean, is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, not really." Jean said. "I was just wondering what's got you in such a tizzy, Ms. Lang. You normally hound us while we're working, making little suggestions on technique or whatnot, but today…"

"But today is something special, Jean. Did you know I graduated from Smallville High?"

"No ma'am."

"Well I did," Lana said, "and my class, the Class of 2005, is starting a three-day-weekend of activities to celebrate our twenty-year anniversary."

"Really? Cool!" Jean turned for the door and was about to leave when a peculiar thought struck her. She turned back to Lana once more, and said, "Still, if your class was like the kids that graduated with my brother and sister, then many of them probably stayed in this area, so you'd get to see them on a somewhat regular basis. Why are you so excited about a class reunion? Is this the first one you've ever gone to?"

"I don't see that it's any of your business, but no, it's not my first one. I've been to the ten-year and fifteen-year reunions, too."

Jean's smiled widened perceptibly as she said, "Oh, I get it now! You're excited about a particular someone coming back to town. Say no more, Ms. Lang. Your secret is safe with me." Then, easing her way out of the room, Jane tossed her last comment back over her shoulder, saying, "Well, whoever he is, Ms. Lang, I'm sure you'll knock him dead."

Looking ruefully at the door as Jane closed it carefully behind her, Lana wondered just how obvious her excitement had been to get noticed. Now that I know Clark is going to be there tonight, I can't let him see me looking like some moonstruck schoolgirl. No! I've got to get control of myself. I'm not messing this up.

Lana went back to straightening the papers, but decided to leave grading them for Monday before class. Turning off the lights and locking the classroom door, Lana rapidly made her way to the teachers' parking lot, the only sounds she made were the sharp click-click-click of her heels on the polished tile flooring in the halls.

Lana opened the door of her Ford F-350 pickup. The incongruity of being such a little woman in such a big truck had never failed to amuse her or the people who knew her, but only Lana knew why she insisted on owning such a huge truck. Her only concession to her lack of size was having had a motorized step installed under the running board on the driver's side.

Driving through town on her way home, Lana passed by the Talon. Knowing the role she'd had in preserving that building always brought a satisfied smile to her face, but today, her daily drive by the Talon brought her something else as well. Coming out the front door, with a large cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper and keys in the other, was the Greek god known as Clark Kent.

She was driving slowly enough to note that he was wearing a close-fitting t-shirt, mid-thigh swim trunks, and flip-flops. Normally, Lana thought, identifying a long-lost classmate on the basis of a quick glance would be a chancy proposition at best, but there are only so many men that look like Clark…strike that, there's no one that looks like Clark. At least, none that would be in Smallville.

Lana concentrated so hard on Clark that she lost focus on her driving and nearly headed off the road. Only a panicked, last-second application of the brakes kept her truck from joining the pedestrians on the sidewalk. Jeez, Lana, she thought, that was a little too close.

Clark heard a squeal of brakes as he headed out of the Talon and looked up in time to see a maroon Ford pickup that had just passed by him almost drive off the street. How some people get a driver's license is beyond me, he thought as he piled into his Audi for the short drive to his hotel.

Minutes later, Lana came to a stop at her house, a yellow-painted farmhouse just outside of town. Locking her truck and stepping down from the cab, Lana made her way to the back door that led into the kitchen. There, wedged into a crack between the door and the doorframe, was a small piece of notepaper. Picking it up, Lana entered the house and plopped her purse down on the kitchen table before unfolding the note and reading.

Lana read the note twice before she said softly, "Oh, Clark. How could I do anything else with this amazing house? I hope I get a chance to show you what I've done with the loft someday."

Two hours later, Clark met Pete, and Pete's wife Charisse, at the Ross' house and they rode over together in Pete's shiny new silver Cadillac STS. Charisse was someone Pete had met in college at K-State. They had married during senior year and had been together ever since.

Seeing them so happy together only made Clark feel more empty in comparison. All of his time and effort had gone to other people and their needs, leaving nothing for himself. What had been building in his mind for sometime was the idea that he needed to put himself first for a change, that Superman was a nice hobby, but that he needed to find a life.

Pete pulled into the parking lot at Ezra Small Park and the three of them headed for the check-in table. As they checked in, each member of the party received a sticky name tag of the, 'Hello, may name is:' variety. Clark wrote his name in bold, broad strokes and patted the name tag into place on his chest and picked up a name plate with a seat location on it. Comparing their name plates, Clark and the Rosses found they weren't seated together, so Clark went to place his name plate at his seat before beginning to mingle with his classmates. The tables were laid out in a logical manner and it was only a matter of a minute for him to find his seat. What else he found along with his seat took his breath away.

Her.

Lana.

At the seat right next to his.

A quick check confirmed Clark's sudden suspicion. The seating was done alphabetically, which did place Lang, Lana right after Kent, Clark. The only good to come from this was the confirmation that Lana was still Lang and not some other name. He'd been too afraid to ask Pete, sure that by now someone worthy would have won her heart.

Lana was standing behind her chair chatting with a couple of friends as Clark approached. She turned his way, held out her hand to him, flashed him her brightest smile, and said, "Hi, Clark. It's been a long time."

Clark wrapped her fingers in his as he bowed over her hand and placed the lightest of kisses on her knuckles. Straightening up once again, Clark, whose eyes had yet to leave Lana's, said, "Too long. For that, and a good many other things, I am sorry."