Chapter 6 [Kent Farm—Two Hours Later]
Luna rose higher into the autumnal night. A breeze rustled through the tall grasses. Clouds scurried away allowing the stars to twinkle unimpeded.
Clarity seemed to be rule above. Would secrets be revealed below?
Lana drove up the Kents' dirt driveway. She'd muddled over the questions of Clark's role in the symposium and Miranda's uncle. Clark, you definitely surprise! Somehow you're right in the middle of everything. I don't know how but you are. She pulled up in front of the canary colored farmhouse. Curiously the windows were already dark. Still she admired it. From earliest days and especially after the meteor shower, Constancy had been the theme there. Hope had always emanated from the structure no matter what. Maybe that was why she'd stand on Nell's porch and gaze across the fields toward it.
…toward it and the barn beside it….
Much as Gatsby would look across the bay toward Daisy's flickering light in the Great Gatsby….
Her lodestone and anchor against all comers….
And now, even when he'd messed up more than once, everyone seemed to benefit.
I wish I understood. I feel like calm and relaxed. Yet there are secrets too. Why can't Clark just tell me what's going on? It's okay! She shook her head. Well you can thank him. He deserves that. He cares. With that she got out of the car. Her eyes gravitated toward the barn's lights. And she began to walk toward it.
[Ten Minutes Earlier]
Clark set his copy of Thoreau down on the desk. He sipped on a mug of coffee. Realization finally dawned on him. While not exactly understanding *everything*, he could appreciate the poetic structure. He had walked along Crater Lake and through the woods around it that afternoon for perspective. He'd peppered Byron with questions about the work.
Of course the dark poet answered a few. Others were encouraged to ask of Lana herself.
Clark exhaled. Anxiety unsteadied his nerves and caused his heart to beat faster. He scribbled a few more notes on his yellow legal pad. Then he skimmed the notes from the week's reading. He couldn't believe he'd filled the pad's top eight pages.
Chloe would probably want to put that in the Torch.
Martha's words echoed to him as well, "Excuse me. I'm looking for a boy who lives here. He wears plaid, lifts tractors and is extremely moody."
I'm trying. He drank more coffee. Hopefully Lex can get those two speakers. Lana will really love this. He got up and walked toward the open Loft door. He savored these few moments of peace away from everything. The breeze billowed through his dark hair. The air's crisp whisper cooled his face. His eyes roved the countryside. Even without his telescope, he could see the Lang/Potter farmhouse next door.
He saw the center of his dreams. His heart knew what it looked like even without the old telescope glinting in Luna's light. It was his guiding light…the Polaris beckoning him ever home in Despair's darkest night. He saw the reason for this poetic pilgrimage. He knew it would bring that sparkle to her eyes, the grin to her mouth and the lightening to her mood.
She was loved for herself not pitied for being the Time cover girl. She wouldn't be a trophy to him. She merited his respect. She tried and deserved a similar effort from him. And he'd give it to her.
He closed his eyes. He imagined himself in a forest like Thoreau's. He could hear the trees swaying in that breeze. He could almost hear the birds singing in the branches overhead. A couple of bees buzzed about flowers along the path. His hand clasped that same book. Then he saw a white sheet to his left across a patch of grass with a picnic basket and two glasses.
Lana looked up from her preparations. She smiled and waved him closer. "Are you going to stand there all day, Clark? This food isn't going to wait. I don't want to either." Her hand beckoned to him. Her eyes reflected Sol's soft light invitingly.
He relaxed. He felt so light and free. He felt as if he could float into the air. It was almost like the birds' songs grew louder. Sol grew warmer and closer. The trees' leaves brushed across his face.
Unbeknownst to him, he was doing exactly that. Without the Earthly concerns and moods weighing him down, his Kryptonian gifts took over. His feet floated from the wooden planks. He lofted higher and higher on Amor's divine breeze. Nobody watched except the cows. He was alone. He indulged in the moment.
"Clark? What?"
The intruding voice jarred him. Reverie and Fantasy splintered against Reality's assault much as a China plate would against a hard floor. His eyes snapped open. He found himself floating almost up against the roof's supporting timbers. His heart beat faster. He looked about frantically. Seeing Lana staring at him, he gasped. "Lana? What's going on?"
"That's what I'd like to know, Clark. You…you…can…fly?" she insisted. She folded her arms across her chest. She stared at him. Her jaw dropped.
He trembled. "I don't know how this happened….I…." In that heartbeat, what little control he had vanished. Gravity grabbed onto him and pulled hard. He crashed through the Loft's floor and impacted against the hard concrete floor below.
All around them, tools on Jonathan's work bench rattled and shook. The cows bayed and mooed.
"CLARK!" Panic seized her. She didn't know what to do. At first sight of his accomplishment, all sorts of questions, accusations and comments flooded her mind. Disbelief floored her. Now she set that all aside. She rushed down the wooden stairs. Dread prompted visions of Clark being paralyzed, in a coma or worse dead due to that fall. She would help him. Whatever it took. Whatever she had to do. Nothing else mattered. Nothing…. Then she froze in her tracks yet again.
Akin to Phoenix's miraculous rebirth from its ashes, he slowly sat up. He flexed his arms and dusted himself off. Then he stood up. He dusted himself off. He grimaced at the spider web cracks in the floor. "Dad's going to kill me. Wow." He sucked in a deep breath. Then he gazed up at the hole overhead. "I really did that?"
She wanted to give some glib response. Still her brain spun further still. She'd only known him as the quiet, shy and almost reclusive boy next door. Signs had teased her over the past year as to the reason. The trucks stacked in the school's parking lot. Surviving being struck by Lex's car. His survival after the lightning strike. His dealing with the bees. His finding her so quickly after being buried alive. The rescue in the tornado. The fires that had burned in the classroom and Talon. How Byron had been stopped.
Clark…it was all him. He could fly. He was invulnerable. What else could he do? What else was he hiding under that plaid?
"Apparently you did, Clark." She gulped down Apprehension and Fear. Slowly she edged across the floor. Her eyes studied him for any sign of further extraordinary traits.
"Can this get any worse? Great! Just great!" He sulked. "Please tell me you're okay."
"I'm fine." She nodded. Her eyes scanned the ceiling and then returned to him. "How are you all right? You just fell through a wooden floor and cracked a concrete floor. You should be in traction right now. And you're standing?"
"It's a long story." He exhaled a tortured breath imaging his parents' response. "And I never wanted to lie either. I've wanted to tell you for the past few months." He ran his hands through his hair.
"So why didn't you?" She reached out ever so slowly. Her fingertips brushed across his arm to confirm that he really was standing there.
"My parents told me not to." He frowned. He realized how lame that response sounded to him. "They didn't want anyone finding out. I tried to be careful! I…." He bowed his head.
"Clark, I saw you in the tornado. That was you. Right?" she pressed.
He sucked in another tortured breath. "I saved you from it. Lana, I wasn't going to let you die. Somehow I did it. Guess it was a in the moment thing like…you know." He motioned upwards.
"Good guess." She bit her lip. She was of two minds. One side wanted to run away as fast as she could. The other however recognized that Deception held him as an unwilling thrall rather than its servant. "And that's how the Freon pipe broke and all of the bees were frozen? You held the pipe?"
"Yes. I saved us," he admitted. "Lana, please don't hate me. I'm sorry for not telling you. I…"
She noticed the lights snapping on in the house's upper bedroom window. "You never had to hide this from me. I can't believe it. Still…"
"It's a big secret, Lana."
"Oh I'll say it is." She shook her head at the floor's impact cracks. "And here I thought the news about Miri's uncle was a big deal. This takes the cake."
"Miranda's uncle? I thought she was an orphan," he deflected. He desperately wanted to change the subject.
"Somehow he's alive. But, Clark, this is about you." She wasn't about to let him worm out of this discussion. Before Jonathan and Martha got there, she'd find out as much as she could. "How did you do this? What else can you do?"
"I'm figuring these things out. Sometimes things just…well…happen." He shrugged.
"Happen? What do you mean 'happen'?" She locked eyes with him.
"They…just…do. I don't know!" He raised his hands toward the ceiling. Frustration raged inside of him. Just then he saw his parents hustling out of the house. "Great. I really didn't need this."
She could see the vice squeezing him. She noticed that he really did want to tell her before that point. Desperation showed in his eyes. Contrition welled in his tears. "Clark, I…."
Suddenly a chill stabbed through her.
"Clark, what are you doing now? It's freezing!" she complained.
"It's not me! I…." He stopped. His eyes spied a slender Japanese man behind her. He wore a dark gi. A sheathed kitana sat against his hip. "Mr. Arighatto?"
She turned to face the intruder. "What are you doing here?"
Arighatto coughed. Scorn and Derision slapped at the two teens from his eyes. "You always meddle where you should not. You expose secrets." He drew the blade. "Now I will deal with that."
Secrets, it seemed, had their price…..