Chapter 9

"Hi. Muffin?"

Was he serious?

"How dare you call me that and remind me of that day when we were held hostage by that sicko. I mean some good natured teasing is one thing, but this is beyond cruel. How would you like it if I called you poodle?"

"What?" He stared at me with a bewildered expression.

"I mean it Clark. I never thought you had a mean streak. Why would you say such a thing to me? You know I am really going through something and you know that—".

"Lo-"

"Well, don't just stand there gawking at me like an idiot. What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Would you like a blueberry muffin? I baked them while you were asleep." He set the confection in question before and poured a tall glass of milk for me.

"And about calling me poodle . . ." I looked at him over the rim of glass.

"Never call me that. In fact, that should be a code word; If you call me that, I'll know you're in trouble."

"You know that's not a bad idea. These muffins are wonderful."

"Was that one of those pregnancy mood swings I've been reading about? Kinda weird."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"You know, if you keep doing that your eyes are going to stay that way."

"Shut up and give me another muffin."

"It's a good thing I think you're adorable, or I might object to you being so bossy."

He came around the table and kissed my forehead. As he moved to walk away from me, I pulled him back to me and pressed my lips against his, threading my hands through his thick black hair, drawing his mouth to me, savoring the feel of his warm lips as they moved over mine. His lips left mine and trailed over my cheek, one hand cupping my chin, the other caressing my back, pressing me closer to him. I shivered when his teeth caught the edge of my earlobe, his breath hot and heavy. It had been too long since he had made love to me, and I missed the feel of lips against my skin, missed the way his large hands tangled in my hair, missed the feel of his body pressed against mine, missed the way he would tenderly hold me after our love-making until I fell asleep.

"Clark?" I whispered, my voice husky with desire.

Before he could answer we were interrupted by a knock at the door.

~*~*~

"Clark, what's keeping you?" I rounded the corner into the living room and could not believe my eyes.

Clark took my arm and said: "Professor, I'd like you to meet m—"

"Chief Willowbrook? Is that you?"

"Runs with the Braves, is that really you? Look how you have grown!" I hadn't heard anyone call me by that name in a long time—not since before my mother had died. Tears pooled in my eyes as I was pulled into a bear hug by my old friend and kinsman, Chief Joseph Willowbrook.

"You know each other?" Clark asked, very surprised.

I pulled away from Joseph and nodded. "My great grandmother was Kawatche"

"Yes, Talking Water was my Aunt." Joseph informed Clark.

"Which makes us cousins or something." I never could keep those complex relationships straight.

"Professor Willowbrook, come in and sit down." Clark invited.

"Chief, what brings you out this way? It can't be to see me, since you didn't know I lived here."

"You live here? With Clark?" That seemed to take him by surprise, but he didn't pursue the matter any further and sat down on a chair in the den. Clark and I took our seats beside one another on the sofa. "Clark was my assistant when he attended Central Kansas College. Clark actually helped our people quite a bit. He discovered the caves containing our history."

"Clark, who knew you were this cool?" I teased. Normally he would have favored me with one of his smiles, but not this time. He seemed a bit tense by the Chiefs' visit. I wrote it off to him being too immersed in what Joseph was saying.

"Last night at a meeting of the Tribal Council, one of our Elders; Red Eagle, had a vision." Joseph continued to tell us. "The vision was cloudy. We passed the pipe and summoned the spirits. We then all had the vision, but the meaning was still unclear. I thought that if I came and discussed it with Clark, he might be able to help shed some light on this mystery." Clark shot the Chief a peculiar look, but the reason for it didn't register with me—I was more interested in what the Chief had to say.

"How can Smallville help you figure out the visions?" I asked.

"Maybe he wants an outsiders' perspective, Lois." Clark offered. Now it was the Chiefs' turn shoot Clark a strange look.

"Do you remember the stories of Naman?" Joseph asked, and I swear I heard Clark groan under his breath.

"Sure." I did have an abstract and somewhat vague memory of the old stories—a visitor from the stars united with the Mother and gave birth to the Kawatchee people. And then there was the prophecy that one day Naman would return and be a savoir to the Kawatchee people. "A messiah story, just like the Hebrews—still still waiting for their Messiah to arrive."

"Those aren't just fairy tales—these are the history of our people." Joseph chided me.

"Well, if Naman is coming to save the Kawatchee, he had better hurry up and do it before there aren't any Kawatchee left."

"I used to think that Naman was to save only our people, but now I have realized that he is here to help all people—not just the Kawatchee." He had always believed the legends. He never doubted them, that much I knew about him. But now Chief Willowbrook wore the look of a devout follower who has witnessed a miracle first-hand and had his faith reaffirmed. "Naman has come. He walks among us now."

"Really? A traveler from the stars landed here on Earth?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, where Has he been hiding?"

"He's not hiding. He's around every day. You've even written articles about him. He is your Red-Blue Blur."

Son-of-a-bitch.