Chapter 3
She felt like she was floating. At length, she deduced that he was carrying her. She felt the corded muscles of his upper arms bunch under her weight. She heard his now familiar baritone as he commanded people around him into action. She couldn't make out all the words, but there was no mistaking his tone. She heard frenzied bustling, so she surmised that he commanded their respect, or at least their fear. Were they servants? She felt suddenly cold as contact with his body had been broken. She couldn't sense him near anymore and she became momentarily afraid. She must have registered some form of protest, because she immediately felt him close to her again.
"Lois. I need to leave the room and let the ladies remove your wet clothing. Rest easy, I'll come back as soon as they let me."
He spoke to her with the patience of a father speaking to a frightened child and she began to relax. No sooner did she hear the click of a door close behind him and the wet, tattered scraps of what was left of her once beautiful turquoise gown were stripped from her shivering body. Several hands made quick work at this task, ministering to her needs, tending her wounds. In what seemed to be an eternity, she was blanketed in several layers of warm, dry cloth.
She heard the creak of the door on the hinges and immediately sensed his presence as he reentered the room. Next she heard the faint, hushed tones of a woman speaking to him. She strained to hear their conversation as the storm continued to rage outside, but was unable to grab anything from beyond the bank of fog that was threatening to roll in and cloud her mind again. ". . . --sible concussion. . . fever . . ." Were the only snippets she managed to snatch of the whispered conference. And lastly, "Goodnight Mister Kent."
Kent? Lois of Kent—that had a familiar sound. This was her last conscious thought as she slid back into the abyss.
Lois continued to drift in and out of consciousness. She didn't know how long she had lain there, time had no meaning. Fleeting images kept popping in her mind that made no logical sense. Were they dreams or memories or a mixture of the two? They didn't add up. Earlier she had dreamed that she flew, which was preposterous. People did NOT fly, but it had seemed so real.
She could feel his presence in the room with her. It was oddly comforting, considering that she really had no idea who he was. She didn't really have a clear picture of who she was at the moment. She thought she saw him in some of her dream visions, but she couldn't be sure. He seemed to always be around when she needed him. The only memories she was sure were real started when he found her freezing in the woods encircling the Luthor Estate. She vaguely recalled the bazaar in the meadow and that she had played with the towns' children before the storm broke out. She knew games had been staged and she was scheduled to sit in the box with the Kent Coat of Arms—but what did that mean? She couldn't wait to regain her strength and her voice. She had so many questions. Who was this man? How did he fit in her life or she in his?
She was drawn out of this mental tug-of-war by the sound of a door opening. Next she heard a voice that also seemed familiar to her, but could not formulate a name to match the voice.
"Hey? How you holding up?"
"Chloe? What are you doing here?" He asked her, sounding more gruffly then he had intended.
"It's good to see you, too."
"I only meant that there is still a storm watch. It's dangerous weather." She heard a scrape against the floor. A chair, perhaps? He had gotten out of his chair to greet the visitor. The next words were muffled. Had they exchanged an embrace? Lois felt an odd stab of jealousy.
"I know what you meant Clark. You worry too much." So his given name was Clark. That seemed to fit. 'I came to see if you needed a break from your bedside vigil."
"I'm fine Chloe. I want to be here when she wakes." Lois was touched by the concern in his voice.
"Clark, you aren't blaming yourself for this, are you?" Chloe asked incredulously. Lois was struck by how casually this woman named Chloe was addressing Mr. Kent. It seemed improper.
"Chloe, If I hadn't given chase then she might not have fallen from her horse."
"I can't believe you are beating yourself up over this. This is not your fault. You chased after her in an attempt to get her to safety, not trying to put her in harms' way."
"And the difference would be?"
"Clark--don't do this to yourself."
He grunted in response.
"What is this really about, Clark?" Understanding finally dawning on Chloe, she added. "You were arguing, weren't you?"
"When aren't we arguing?" he stated, with an exasperated sigh.
"What was it about this time?"
"Who knows? What do we ever bicker about? None of it seems very important now." He expressed wearily.
"Clark, I know how headstrong and stubborn Lois can be. She knows better than to tear off in a storm like this. She always runs headfirst into trouble. Maybe this will teach her a lesson."
"CHLOE!" He hissed at her sharply.
Lois couldn't help but feel a bit chastened by the exchange she was overhearing. She wondered at the close relationship of these two. They obviously knew each other very well. Perhaps they were related in some way. That might explain why it seemed that she was protective of him, when he was obviously an able man. She wasn't sure if the woman, Chloe was her name, blamed Lois for her accident or not. But the insinuation bristled a bit.
After a prolonged silence, she said,
"Look, I didn't mean . . ."
"I know Chloe, I know." Clark cut in before she could finish her thought.
"And you're sure you don't want me to stay with her while you go get some rest?"
"No, I'm good Chloe, really."
"That's right. You have perfected the art of brooding alone in the dark." She chided him sarcastically, but Lois detected a hint of good-hearted teasing in her tone.
"Chloe."
"Yes Clark?"
"Go. Home. "He said is with sternly, but there was no anger.
"Okay, I'm leaving. Do you want me to bring you anything when I come back tomorrow?"
"Could you bring fresh clothes for Lois? Her gown has been ruined. But there's no need to hurry—she isn't going anywhere anytime soon."
"I'll go by your house in the morning and get fresh clothing for both of you."
So, they lived together, she and Clark.
"Should I contact Mrs. Kent and let her know where you are."
Mrs. Kent? There was a Mrs. Kent?
"No need. She's away on business of state. She'll be away a few days."
"All right, I'll see you tomorrow."
Lois felt a small hand touch her shoulder and then felt a gentle kiss on the check. "You're in good hands Lois. He'll keep you safe." Chloe whispered.
To Clark she called, "Take care of my cousin." Lois heard the door close behind her.
Lois' head swam with so much information to process. They quarreled—apparently often. He was married, but she lived at his house too. His wife was an important figure in government. Was she one of his servants? That didn't seem right, if they quarreled often. Was she his mistress? He had a close friendship with her cousin. Was her cousin in on the secret? She was headstrong and stubborn, these didn't seem like good qualities. What type of impropriety had she committed? Was that the reason for their recent quarrel? Her head began to throb again. She must have groaned aloud, because he came to her side, taking her hand in his.
"What is it Lois? I'm here." Yes, but where is here? She wanted to shout. But she couldn't shout. She was tired, so very tired. Everything required so much effort, even thoughts. The universe quickly faded to black once again as she lapsed back into her dreams.
