Chapter 18: The Birthday Boy
"Happy Birthday, Dad." Clark woke slowly to the sound of his wife's voice near his ear and grinned, even before he'd opened his eyes.
"It's one of the best I can remember." He ran a hand through his hair as he turned to look at Lois, sitting up against the headboard, knees folded up, with Sam cradled in her lap. The baby's small hands were clasped between her forefingers and thumbs as she stroked his tiny fingers. It was the same scene he'd wakened to every morning since they'd been home.
She and Sam had come home a week earlier and between grandparents wanting to hold him, change him and rock him to sleep, there hadn't been much time alone for the young family. His parents and his father-in-law were trying to help and he did appreciate it, so he cherished these quiet times with his wife and child.
Lois was still so in awe of him, Clark could see. She was constantly touching him, stroking his fingers, his toes and his downy head. It was as though she couldn't quite believe that he belonged to her. And while she accepted help with the changing, holding and rocking, she refused help, except Clark's, with his bathing.
It was one of those things she wanted to do herself. Bathing their baby, she confided to Clark one afternoon as he helped her, was teaching her patience. She said nothing was more calming or soothing, or more apt to dissipate a bad mood than seeing his big blue eyes directed at her, as she bathed him in the kitchen sink.
As to his feeding, she'd made the decision to breast feed. Lois's doctor had suggested it, even though bottle feeding was now more widely accepted, telling her that nothing was better for a baby than the natural nutrition his mother could provide. And Lois, wanting to do what was best for Sam, took her doctor's advice and he'd never seen her so content.
Dr. Francis was also a great believer in bonding between mother, baby and father, too. So he encouraged Clark to be present as much as he possibly could during Sam's feedings. Those times were usually first thing in the morning, his last feeding before bedtime and when she'd have to get up during the night.
The lights always stayed off during the middle of the night feedings, though there was usually enough moonlight coming through their bedroom windows for him to see the silhouette of Lois holding the baby and he could hear the suckling sounds as he fed.
If it was possible for Clark to fall even more deeply in love with his wife during those nighttime feedings, he fell hard. Being a mother to Sam was bringing out a side of her he'd only had small glimpses of when she was expecting, during those moments when she would put a gentle hand to her rounded belly and talk to him.
And now, she would sing to him or hum as his tiny hand grasped at the full source of his ready nourishment. It was the singularly most fulfilling sight to a man who had, just two years previous, begun to believe he'd never have such happiness in his life.
As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up, Clark saw the unmistakable signs of his son getting ready to cry. His little face turned red as his eyes closed, his small hands balled into fists and his mouth opened, just before the first sounds of distress sounded.
And with an economy of motion she must have learned growing up in the Army; Lois slipped a shoulder out of her nightdress and picked the baby up, his small mouth finding her with unerring accuracy.
He watched Lois start and Clark couldn't help but frown. "Does it hurt?"
She watched their son and adjusted her breast, making sure he was taking what he needed before she turned to look at him with a look of serenity that steered his thoughts to places they had no place going just yet, "Not at all. It still surprises me, that's all."
He got an arm around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, watching. His other hand reached over to stroke Sam's cheek and Clark couldn't believe how soft his skin was, like velvet. And he really couldn't believe he was feeling his wife's soft lips at his temple.
"Lois," he cautioned her, not wanting to start something they wouldn't be able to finish for another month.
"I just want a kiss," her laugh was gentle and he sat up again to look at her. "I'm not about to do something that'll leave both of us frustrated. The last time I did, I wished I hadn't."
Movement in an upstairs window caught his attention and he looked up as he opened his car door. He saw Lois standing at his bedroom window, her hands resting on the sash and all of her bravado was gone. He couldn't help but think that her plan had backfired on her and she was feeling the same intense frustration she'd inflicted on him.
She confirmed it when she opened the window for a moment and called softly to him, "I'm sorry."
He smiled at her and had to curb the urge to laugh. "It's all right, Lois, I asked for it."
"Just one kiss, G-man." She whispered in his ear. "That's all I want."
He was headed for a cold shower; he just knew it, as Lois's warm lips found his.
Heaven help him, his wife could kiss.
She wasted no time in coaxing him into an unexpectedly passionate kiss that had him nearly forgetting himself. It certainly didn't help matters when he felt her equally warm hand creep under his tee shirt to find his torso before it began moving south, in a hurry.
He pulled away from her tempting mouth, damp with his kiss and quickly moved her roaming digits out of harm's way. His heart thundered in his chest with need, want and no small amount of frustration as he glanced at his sleeping son, still attached to his mother's breast and had to squelch the irrational feeling of envy.
They were both breathing heavily and Lois had a look of supreme satisfaction on her face, forcing a reluctant grin from him. "That was not a simple kiss, Mrs. Kent."
She laughed as she moved the sleeping baby back to her lap, slipped her nightdress back over her shoulder and gave her husband a soft kiss. "I never said I wanted a simple kiss, Agent Kent, only one kiss."
She had, hadn't she?
"And it's just a sample of what's to come when Dr. Francis gives us the all clear." She promised him with the kind of sultry smile he wasn't sure a new mother should have. "And when that time comes, we're going to have the entire house to ourselves."
"Let me guess," He chuckled softly, not wanting to wake the baby. "You've talked to Mom and she's going to make sure she and Dad have to be somewhere else for the evening."
"I mean," She grasped the front of his tee shirt and leaned to his ear, whispering. "Your mother, father and Sam will be elsewhere."
He hadn't expected that piece of news and the feel of her warm breath on his skin, set it to tingling,"Th-the baby?"
"Samuel Jerome will be in the very capable hands of his grandparents for awhile and while I'll miss him like crazy, I've missed you like crazy for the last couple of months." She kissed him again and tugged on his shirt to get his attention and when he looked at her, she was perfectly serious. "When Dr. Francis gives us the okay and we make love for the first time, I really don't want to do it with your parents downstairs or us keeping an ear out for the baby to make sure he's all right.
"I want it to be like our wedding night, when it was just the two of us with a fire downstairs and a cold bottle of champagne." She sighed and put her head back on his shoulder. "When we made up for all the times we couldn't make love and then loved each other until we were completely exhausted. That's what I want."
Clark pressed a kiss to her hair and shrugged. "Well, the way things are going we might not have that chance until our anniversary."
"You're leaving again." It wasn't a question, but an acknowledgement.
"I'm sorry, honey." He tightened one arm around her shoulder and with his free hand, ran it over the head of his sleeping child. "I have to go back to Chicago, tomorrow."
"So soon?" She looked at him, crestfallen. "I thought we'd have until Sunday, at least."
"I did too." Clark hugged her to him. "But the fellow who took my place interviewing the POW's at Camp Ellis is being sent to Camp Aliceville in Alabama to interview some of the Germans there. They're sending him tonight, so I have to take a flight out of Metropolis early tomorrow afternoon."
"That's why you were so quiet at dinner last night."
"After the call came from Mr. Kelly, I didn't know how to tell you." He admitted with a nod. "We were having such a nice evening with your dad here and seeing how taken he is with his namesake. I didn't want to spoil it."
"It's all right. If I were in your position, I probably would have done the same thing." She tried to make him feel better. "We'll just have to make today that much more special."
"I've already got the best birthday present right here with us." He kissed her cheek. "It's more than I thought possible."
"I love you, too, G-man." She kissed him back. "I always will."
oooooo
How had their cozy room become so crowded?
Lois asked herself that very question as she looked around the room that had been perfect for newlyweds, but didn't quite fit with a new baby.
She'd laid Sam down on the changing table to put a clean diaper on him, and couldn't help but notice between it, the rocker and his bassinette; the room had become too snug. But there wasn't much they could do about it at the moment.
When Clark walked into the room ten minutes later, toweling his damp hair after his morning shower, he remarked on the same thing. Lois quickly snapped her attention back to changing her son's diaper, instead of focusing on the sight of her nearly naked husband, covered only with a towel. "That's so unfair," she shook her head, muttering to herself.
"What's that?" He sidled up to her, crowding his frustrated wife at the changing table and laughed softly with the unspoken acknowledgment his state of undress affected her. "I think I might still have some water in my ears."
"You're just being mean." Lois felt her face flush as she stuck a diaper pin into the freshly folded diaper and carefully picked up the baby to make sure the fit was snug, but not tight.
Both Martha and Lydia had had her practice with a melon during the last month before Sam arrived. They wanted her to be comfortable with the motion of a squirming baby while she took off a dirty diaper and put on a clean one.
The repetition of it stood her in good stead the first time she'd had to change Sam. Her little squirt was an active baby and having gotten used to the constant motion, it was much easier than it could have been.
But becoming an expert diaper changer wasn't helping with her present predicament.
Look at his face, she told herself but her eyes kept drifting down which he didn't miss and Lois couldn't help but notice how much different he looked in the daylight.
His face was flushed, but it wasn't from embarrassment. It seemed to please him that she liked what she saw and he didn't move as she kept appraising him, without trying to look as though it was exactly what she was doing. But that was before his mother admonished him to put his shirt on.
Lois started, for the second time that morning, when she felt a soft kiss on her cheek and an amused chuckle. "I know, I know; my mother didn't raise me to be an exhibitionist." And when she looked at him to agree, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "But with you, I can't seem to help it."
"Just remember this, G-man," she put a hand on his chest, over his heart which was beating furiously under her fingers. "Two can play at that game."
He put his hand over hers and grinned. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Let's just see if you still feel that way when you have to take a few more cold showers."
"Sweetheart, it can't be any worse than the last few weeks have been." He refused to take her threat seriously and kissed her again.
Was he actually issuing a challenge? Well, she wasn't Sam Lane's daughter for nothing, was she, and raised an eyebrow. His rose in reply and he waited.
"Sweetheart," Lois gave him her most innocent smile and he flushed. "We may not be able to make love just yet, but I can promise you those last few weeks you had to endure before our son was born will feel like a walk in the park compared to the weeks to come, given what almost happened earlier."
He didn't take the bait because his grin became insufferably smug, damn! "Just remember that anything I endure, you will, too."
That's right, she would. Double damn!
"You don't play fair," was the only comment she could muster.
"True, but then I learned from the best." He reminded her as he brushed a kiss in her hair and walked to the dresser. "And it started with a nightdress that you made sure I got an eye full of."
"You would remember that," Lois tossed over her shoulder as she put Sam down in his bassinette.
"It was quite memorable." Clark admitted to her. "A woman I wasn't supposed to be falling in love with, presenting a very tempting image. You were awfully difficult to resist."
"And yet, somehow, you did." She laughed softly as she remembered that morning.
When she finally stopped in front of him, she made the point of making sure that her body came in as much contact with his as possible, as she put her arms around his neck.
'You don't play fair," he lamented with a sigh.
'Says you, seeing as how you started this whole thing when you came in here,' then she started to laugh. 'And I just finished it.' She smiled as she pushed herself up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. She turned back toward the bed and as she got in, she continued to laugh. 'You're so easy.'
She felt her cheeks warm at the memory and let out a reluctant sigh, even as she smiled. "I guess we can consider this repayment for that particular morning."
"No repayment necessary, honey." The reassuring weight of his hands grasped her shoulders, "because in the end, we both got what we wanted, each other and the added blessing of this little guy."
"True," she wasn't about to disagree with him, but there was still the small matter of space that they didn't have. "And as happy as I am that he's finally here, our sprout and everything that comes with him has left us with even less room than we had before."
"I know." He replied with a sigh of his own. "But we don't have enough money saved yet. And even if we had it, I'm gone so much and it wouldn't be fair to put all of that on you, especially with Sam in the picture now."
"So we wait." Lois took a deep breath and tried not to let the disappointment get to her. Instead, she turned around and found Clark had dressed and couldn't help but feel a little disappointed about that, too.
He grinned at what must have been a frown on her face and gave her a soft kiss, "Maybe later."
"No later about it, buster," she pushed herself up on her toes, feeling a twinge grab in her midsection, and kissed him back. "But since it's my turn to shower and get dressed, you can take Sam downstairs so he can say good morning to his grandparents."
"Yes, ma'am," he kept grinning as he carefully picked up his son, nestled him gently against his shoulder and headed for the bedroom door. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"You've done enough, thank you." She raised an eyebrow at him, knowing he was expecting it, and tried not to answer his grin.
"See you downstairs." Clark opened the door, but before he left the room, backtracked and kissed her again, "I do love you, Mrs. Kent." He retraced his steps to the door and without another look back added, "Very much," and closed it behind him.
It was a habit he'd gotten into with her, knowing she wasn't comfortable with him seeing her as she still was at present. In the beginning, when she was just beginning to blossom, the swell of life inside her was a wondrous thing and she and Clark marveled at it.
It heightened their lovemaking because the father-to-be wanted their child to know how much he loved its mother. It made Lois feel even more loved and cherished than she already did and supremely satisfied when they were through.
As the baby got larger, however, she wasn't so enamored of how she looked and became very self-conscious of her burgeoning figure. And if it hadn't been for the clothing Lydia Carmichael had offered to her, Lois would have been mortified at her appearance.
She knew she'd be wearing the maternity clothes for a little while longer, because none of her old clothes fit her anymore. Martha had assured her the weight she'd gained while she was carrying Sam would go away on it's own in time, as long as she stuck to the prescribed regimen that Dr. Francis had put her on.
Only when she felt strong enough, he wanted her to start walking again, as much as she possibly could. He wanted her to eat sensibly, to nourish herself and her son, and not eat between meals. She'd not gained an ounce more than Dr. Francis had advised and therefore, would make it much easier for her to regain most of her figure.
She hadn't liked the sound of that, when he'd come to check on her the day after Sam had been born. He'd told her that a woman's body never fully returns to what it was after having a baby.
'Your body has been through some tremendous changes.' He told her. 'You carried a child for nine months and had to accommodate your son as he developed during that time. Your hips are a little wider and that's not going to change. You can reduce your waistline with time, but there again, that has changed, too.'
'You mean I'm always going to look like this?' Lois wanted to cry, but it wouldn't change anything. And then she silently chided herself for her thoughts because she'd never been vain about her looks and she wasn't about to start. She was a mother now, and that meant things, including her body, had to change.
'Certainly not and there is no reason for it if you don't want it,' he assured her. 'Light exercise when you're feeling up to it, which means plenty of walking, and that includes when you come into town. Park the car where you'll need to walk some to take care of your errands.
'Eat well at meal times, but until your weight comes down, avoid eating in between. When you get your strength back, take the stairs at a light jog when you go up. You might even consider getting a bicycle to ride.'
'Doc, I haven't ridden a bicycle since I lived with the General at Fort Benning.' She informed him. "And I'm not sure I'd remember.'
'Where do you think the old saying about something thought long forgotten is like "riding a bike"? It's because you usually don't.' He grinned at her. 'You might surprise yourself, young lady.'
When she'd told Jonathan and Martha about what the doctor had advised, her father-in-law had gotten his hands on, he didn't tell her how, an old second-hand bicycle and repaired it for her. With metal going on the scrap heap for the war effort, and bicycles being a popular form of alternate transportation because of gas rationing, it was a wonder she now had it.
It had been sitting on the porch, looking almost like new; with a bright red bow on the seat the morning Clark brought her and Sam home from the hospital. But, with winter just around the corner, it would probably be spring before she'd have a change to ride it.
And even then, she wasn't sure she would be able to do it.
oooooo
Italy Declares War on Germany!
It was a headline he didn't think he'd see; not in 1943, anyway.
Clark sat on the sofa, cradling his son in the crook of his arm while he read the bold type across the front page of the evening edition of the Ledger his father held in his hands.
After the Allied invasion of Sicily began at the beginning of July, earlier losses that year in the Tunisian Campaign and the Eastern Front, the Italians decided they'd had enough of Benito Mussolini. With a vote of 'no confidence' by his own government at the end of July, Il Duce was formally ousted from power by Italy's King Victor Emmanuel III and then arrested.
Marshal Pietro Berdoglio was handpicked by the king to assume power of the government and eventually brokered an armistice deal with the Allies at the beginning of September. And just yesterday, as the headline declared, Italy had declared war on their former ally.
It was about damn time.
The tide of war had finally started to swing in the direction of the Allies and the restlessness Clark had attributed in recent months to waiting for his baby son to arrive, washed over him unexpectedly and un-welcomed.
It was his birthday and he was spending the evening with his wife, new baby, parents and his father-in-law. He was a man blessed and had no cause to feel discontent, and yet he did.
Even the sudden appearance of his wife, looking particularly fetching in a russet colored, velvet maternity dress, with lace at the collar and cuffs, couldn't quite curb the feelings he was trying to disguise. But as he should have realized, Lois knew him better than he sometimes gave her credit for.
"All right, G-man, what gives?" She snuggled up to his side and reached for one of the baby's flailing hands. She bent her head to kiss the small fingers before she kissed her husband's cheek. "You probably think its gone unnoticed how quiet you've been today and you're right, for the most part, because my dad and your parents are so busy talking with each other. But your wife has and she's a little worried."
He kissed her cheek in return and smiled at her. "My wife doesn't need to worry because her husband is fine."
"You're not still sore the Yanks beat the Cards, are you?" Lois teased him, but the humor didn't reach her eyes and Clark knew what she was doing. She was opening the door for him to tell her what was really wrong, and he would; just not right then. It was a time to celebrate with their families, not just by adding another candle to his birthday cake, but becoming a father for the first time.
"Who would've thought the Cards would only win one game?" He teased her in return and kept the smile on his face. "But I'm not sore about it, or anything else, for that matter. And I promise to talk to you, just not now, okay?"
He could see the debate, whether to accept or argue his comment play across her face before she ultimately, albeit reluctantly, nodded. "Is their anything I can do to help?"
"Just help me celebrate this birthday with me and with our little guy, here." He looked down at his baby son and felt his heart catch. He still couldn't quite believe Sam was his, and hers.
"I can do that." She put her chin on his shoulder and ran a gentle hand over the baby's head. "Even though he's finally here, I have a hard time believing he's really ours."
"And even when they're your age, you'll still feel that way sometimes." Mom remarked softly as she walked into the parlor, holding a tray in her hands. On it, were coffee cups and saucers, spoons and the creamer and sugar bowl. "Your dad is bringing in the coffee."
She set down the tray on the coffee table and smiled at them. "Being new parents is an experience like no other. And while you'll love any other children who come along as much as this one, the experiences will be different because you'll have been through it already."
It tugged at his heart that his parents were never able to have more children because he knew Mom would have loved having a houseful to love. But carrying him had proved difficult for her after it took so long to conceive him and while they'd tried again after he was born and she'd found herself in the family way twice more, she'd miscarried before they'd had a chance to get used to the idea.
Reverend Carson had tried to console his parents with the notion that while they would have been fine parents to more children, they had a child who was the light of their lives and would bring them joy beyond measure.
While they'd waited during the final hours of Lois' labor, Mom had told him that story. He wasn't sure why, maybe she'd wanted to tell him before then and just never found the right time until he was about to become a father himself.
All three of them had taken to being grandparents like ducks to water, as his father-in-law might say. They each indulged the newest member of the family in their own way and at the same time gave the new parents, especially the new mother, time for rest and time for each other.
And so his birthday gifts that year were simple, but heartfelt. They gave him time to spend with his wife, while the baby was looked after, time to spend with his son, without the worry of chores to get to and time to spend on his own, to think and to plan if that was where his mind wandered.
Dad had always told him farming was a job that gave a man time to think. But because Clark didn't have the luxury of having such time, it was being gifted to him.
And he didn't intend on wasting it.