I do not own the Kents or Smallville. Most of the other characters are my own. Please read and review.

Clark listened, head bowed to the pastor and others talk about Garnet Wingate. All his life, he'd thought of her as "Mrs. Wingate." A lot of ladies and a few men who'd known her since she was younger than him, though, were calling her "Garnet" in their stories about her he'd never heard.

She'd grown flowers and vegetables in her family's yard long before she'd caught Mr. Wingate's eye. People hadn't been surprised she'd caught the eyes of the town's new banker back then with her dark brown eyes and golden-brown hair. (Clark only ever remembered her having gray and then white.) Folks had been a bit surprised she'd gone for a man of brain over brawn, who didn't like being outdoors nearly as much as she. What had they had in common? Everyone agreed it had been a beautiful marriage, though. She had managed the home and socializing aspect of their life so well. Joseph Wingate had been a newcomer filling such an important position in town, who just disappeared into an office all day and into the night when his wife didn't call him out of it. Him marrying a local girl helped him slide smoother into Smallville society.

A few watery chuckles were heard, when it was mentioned that Garnet gardened better than she cooked. It was probably for the best then she married a man with enough money to buy things readymade. (They'd given the diner-owner and grocer a lot of business.)

There were pictures of Mrs. Wingate as a child, and her marrying Mr. Wingate, and quite a few of her in her garden and holding ribbons and trophies won for her flowers and even vegetables during her childhood. Clark had looked at these before sitting down to listen to the stories about a woman he'd always known, and … never known, he felt like now.

He couldn't look up as everyone else talked before the crowd of mourners. Melissa made a speech about how she and Mrs. Johnson and Garnet Wingate had worked together over long phone calls to make her garden so pretty. Then Mrs. Johnson got up and spoke. Clark barely managed to raise his eyes when he heard sobbing. Her face was not just damp or sprinkled, but deluged in tears, shining with them, as she thanked everyone there for making her sister's last months as good as they were with everything sent to her and asked her about her garden …

"Her gardens were always her pride and joy ever since we were kids. She used to really help feed us all in hard times with the vegetables, but flowers were what she loved! And she was just devastated when she fractured her hip and couldn't go home to start it this year, for I think the first time in her life since she got pneumonia when we were kids. Even then as soon as she was better she started one that summer. Oh, not being able to garden made an already miserable situation that much worse! Then all of you, especially Clark and little Miss Melissa over there …"

Clark bowed a red face at the mention of his name and swallowed. People, a lot of people, not just his parents, had asked him to speak today. And he had said he couldn't.

He was too shocked, too confused … How could you put so much into something and come out with … nothing … not even another chance. They'd had bad crops before after working hard all year, but there was always next year. Now, there was no chance to talk to Mrs. Garnet again, not to ask about the garden, not to see her see it, not even to hear her side of all the new stories he heard about her today, making him ashamed of not even knowing the lady. He'd only ever thought of as the banker's wife or widow with the lovely garden she bossed others about how to take care for before paying them for doing it. Now, he guessed this side of heaven, he'd never get to know her. His face burned again at the final words of Mrs. Johnson at the podium in the church.

"Knowing you all were doing so much for her and her pride and joy, and seeing it in all the pictures, hearing me read the articles … Why, I don't know if she'd ever felt so loved by so many! And I, well it was just a beautiful thing for me to see as well. In fact, I've decided to move back here. It made me miss home too!"

Clark knew full well Melissa and Mrs. Johnson had talked many times before and after Mrs. Wingate's passing and how the service today should go. He expected them both talk in their best dark dresses at the funeral. He did not expect as he tried to sneak out in his best suit for Mrs. Johnson to call out after him, catch him, and embrace him. He barely knew her! They'd barely even talked in early spring, and he'd just said over the phone, practically admitting he was a coward, he couldn't say anything up there in front of everyone today! Why was he being hugged and cried on like he was a hero?

Since he still couldn't say anything though, he just listened as Mrs. Johnson talked. "Oh Clark, thank you for starting the folks around here caring for my sister's garden and doing the best to involve her in it! I know Melissa did so much, but I also know it was your idea and initiative! So, thank you, thank you!"

Clark swallowed and managed to croak, "You're welcome."

At home Clark sat at the kitchen table staring at the grain of its wood contemplating. His mother asked him first after putting away some leftover apple pie she'd taken to the meal after the service. "Clark, Dear, what are you thinking?"

"I know it was my idea, and I did do some work, but … not more than Melissa or even Lana, Pete, and Michael when it came to covering it in the Sentinel. So, why did Mrs. Johnson, and why do so many others, keep talking about me?"

"Well, Clark, it's not really a sure thing any of them would have done any of those things if you hadn't told some people your idea and got the ball rolling."

His pa sat across the table from him. "Is there something else on your mind Clark?"

He muttered a bit, "A couple things … One, I didn't actually do … what I could've. I mean I could have done it all myself without breaking a sweat."

"But that would have been suspicious."

"And the other thing doesn't make sense with the first, but I feel … I feel like we all, not just me, but all of us got cheated somehow. We all did it so she could come home and see it in person! And she never will ... Why is that? Why did things happen this way? When we all, we all did so much!"

His pa's voice sounded hard, so hard he almost flinched. "Clark, look at me."

Clark bit his lip before raising his chin up his gaze also being forced up above it till they looked into his pa's steely eyes. "Clark, we cannot, even you cannot, make everything perfect. You are strong and fast, and I don't know what else … But you are not God."

Clark's brow furrowed as he stared back at his father. "Why did God allow this?"

Clark was startled by the bit of fear in his mother's strained voice. "Clark!"

He jumped a bit and turned to see the face of his mother with wet eyes and slightly flushed cheeks above him. She set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "We may never know, but ... It makes things worse not to trust. Trust me on that one it does!"

Then he heard his pa's voice across the table again. "Clark …"

He looked back. His pa's face actually looked … softer. "We can't do everything, understand everything, stop everything, but usually … we can make things better or worse. Don't ever believe anything other than that son. And this last year Clark, you did make things better in Smallville. Remember that."

God bless

ScribeofHeroes