Holiday Spirit

by a campbell

Smallville, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

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Summary: Early November. Martha Kent gets ready for the holidays, contemplates changes.

Somewhat of a response to the Cuddlefic Challenge.

Thanks to betas: Tilla, Consuela, Signe, and to Fajrdrako, for extra help and for the title. Your time and hard work is much appreciated. Thanks also to Ingrid for suggestions on getting started.

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"Clark," Martha Kent scolded, carrying the last of the pies to the counter by refrigerator in the farmhouse kitchen. "Please. Make two trips to the truck, not one. If you drop all these pies, I can't replace them. Not with the bazaar starting in forty-five minutes."

Clark piled several bundles of his mother's quilted pot holders and placemats into a cardboard box, and then grabbed two more boxes for the pies.

"You underestimate me, Mom," he assured her. "I know having special abilities doesn't mean I don't go into klutz mode sometimes, but, relax. Everything's cool. I'm in control." Clark thinned his lips, grabbed the boxes, and hefted them up to his chest as his mother held her breath.

"There, see?" said Clark, "Nothing to worry about. Whoa!!" He let his face go panicked as he faked being about to lose his grip, and Martha gasped and clutched the rim of the counter. Clark laughed, and she swatted at him, exasperated, with the kitchen towel she still held in her hand.

"Just kidding, Mom." He ducked his head, still chuckling. "I couldn't resist. Don't kill me."

"Oh, Clark," Martha sighed. "Wait. Cover those pies with a towel. You never know what may fly into them on the way."

Clark looked exasperated as he set the boxes back down on the kitchen counter and took the towel. Martha scanned the contents as he shook it out, then held out a hand to stop him before he could cover the pies.

"Clark Kent, there are seven pies here, not six. We promised them three apple, three custard. There's one extra."

"Well," said Clark slowly, a slight blush dawning on his cheeks, "Lex loves your custard pie, Mom. That extra one's for him. He had a really rough week. I'll drop it off at his place on the way." Clark bent to take a whiff of the pie, savoring the aroma of nutmeg and cream. "Mmmm." He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a can of Reddi Whip. "He'll need this, to go with it, though."

Martha hesitated, then gave him an exasperated, indulgent smile. "Well, okay, honey. Just make sure it all gets into a refrigerator before long. We'd hate to have him getting sick again. He's just getting over that bout with the flu."

Clark beamed his megawatt grin as he gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug. "Thanks, Mom. This is sure to cure him. You're the best. I can't believe you found time to do all this for us, now that you're working."

"Don't drop them!" Martha exclaimed, holding the screen door open for her son as he stepped out onto the porch. "And don't stay at Lex's too long. The auction starts at five, and they're waiting for those pies."

"When is Dad getting home?" Clark called over his shoulder as he descended the porch stairs.

"Any time, now. Drive carefully. Not too fast!" Martha called after him.

Clark jumped into the pickup, revved the engine and, with a final wave and smile, drove off, tires crunching loudly on gravel.

Martha clenched her teeth and sighed again. Dollar signs whirled in her head. That truck was going to need a new muffler before long, that was for sure. And, they'd just replaced the brakes.

She thought she deserved a pat on the back for using her time on this rare Friday off so much more efficiently than she had when she was home every day. Besides doing the pies last night and today, she'd made soup, vacuumed. scrubbed the floors and peeled potatoes. Now, she was tired, and decided to allow herself a well-deserved break. She felt a breath of guilt at the sense of relief that washed over her now that Clark was on his way at last, and she had the house to herself. Teenagers could be so...exhausting.

Martha swiped her hands on her jeans as she peered out the front window, noting the few laggard geese that hovered, too far away for any honking to be audible, in the nimbusstreaked southern sky. The days were obviously shorter since the time change three weeks before. Afternoons like today, when she could watch the sun, a burnished ball, set over the surrounding wheatfield, were a gift, now that she'd gone to work for Lionel Luthor.

She opened the front door to fetch the evening paper from the porch, and shivered at the chill in the late-autumn air. She must get Jonathan to build a fire in the fireplace when he came back from town. Scanning the garden, she grimaced at the weeds encroaching on her late-autumn mums and asters. The amount of time she spent on gardening and other chores had really taken a hit the last few weeks.. Oh, well. Getting the Kent men properly fed was the most important of her tasks. The garden could wait.

As she sank into the overstuffed chair before the empty fireplace, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, clutching the chair's wooden arm, willing a wave of dizziness to subside. And, as was usual when she took a minute to relax, especially with the holidays approaching, she grew thoughtful. What a time of changes the past year, and particularly this fall, had been. Deathly frightening in many ways, but exhilarating, too.

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The new job had been a blessing, despite Jonathan's initial blowup when she'd told him she'd accepted Lionel's offer. Now, she looked forward to going in every day she was scheduled to work, and found herself developing a surprising new respect for Lionel Luthor-her "boss", and she chuckled, for the title just didn't seem to fit this high-powered executive who, in spite of his devastating accident last spring, was unstinting in the energy he put into his work and in his expectations of himself. He was a surprisingly observant man, too, in spite of being blind. He'd realized only yesterday that she needed a more comfortable desk chair, and put in an order right away.

Lex Luthor had earned Martha's increased regard as well. Lex always gave his full attention to anyone speaking, helped people without being ostentatious, and had an endearing, understated sense of humor that he rarely let show. Unfailingly pleasant to her, he always thought of something positive to say, every morning. Both men were clever, insightful, worked hard, and never failed to treat her as an equal, although she knew they could both be ruthless as tigers where business was concerned.

What a shame, though, that their good qualities evaporated in their dealings with each other. Martha often felt on the edge of a war zone as she worked.

Thanks to this job, Martha's personal secret savings account was now nearing the $1,000 mark. She'd added what she considered a reasonable amount with every check, having decided, even before she went to work for Lionel, to start an account of her own, since Jonathan had proven over the years that he wasn't a natural money manager. Any guilt she felt about keeping it a secret was tempered by knowing that she'd have enough money to by decent Christmas gifts for her husband and son this year. At least something more exciting than socks and underwear.

Still, she mused guiltily, maybe she should buy a new set of brakes for the truck, even though she thought of it more as belonging to the guys.

Usually, Martha didn't let herself get into a Christmas mood till after Thanksgiving, but this year, it was different. She was already looking forward to getting out her recipe boxes and files, to seeing again the familiar ornaments and decorations laden with memories. The ornament Clark had made from a styrofoam cup and decorated with rickrack in kindergarten, which, incredibly, had survived the years with one side only a little crunched-in. The Hallmark ball of thin glass she and Jonathan had bought for their first Christmas together. It was white, red and green, and said: "Love: Warm as candleglow, wondrous as snowfall, welcome as Christmas." Every year when she unpacked the dusty boxes, she expected to find it broken, as so many other decorations had been, but somehow, it was still in one piece. Just another small miracle.

As far as cooking and baking went, each year she liked to turn out most of the old family favorites, and try one or two new things. But, this year, she hadn't yet managed to thumb through her recipe books or the latest cooking magazines. She knew she'd have to do the traditional sugar and gingerbread cutouts (or Clark would be disappointed), the nut balls, the pfeffernussen and springerle her grandmother had taught her to bake. And, for the main holiday meal, everything would have to be genuine. Real butter-not margarine. Real whipped cream-not Cool Whip or even Clark's Reddi Whip. Homemade dressing for the turkey and chicken-not Pepperidge Farm. She knew the guys didn't care; they'd eat anything. But, she did.

She still had to buy what gifts she could afford. If only she were the organized sort of parent who could buy presents at good prices from January on for the next Christmas! Alas, were she to do this, Clark would receive every gift within a week or two of purchase. Martha just didn't have the patience to wait months to see how he would like them. Now was the earliest she could start making up comprehensive shopping lists which she would misplace by the time she was actually able to make it to the store. What to buy, though? Clark was too old for toys, now. Old enough for other things...

The thin smile faded as she forced her thoughts back to Christmas.

Gifts weren't the important thing about the holiday, and she knew Clark was of an age to realize this now. Still... she wished she could do more.

Holidays were different now than they'd been when she was a child. Often Martha yearned for the family-rich, people-studded gatherings of her childhood, when all relatives lived an easy day's travel away and made it to every yearly party. When the kids in the family all knew their cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents, and saw them regularly. These holiday get-togethers of long ago had defined her, and she cherished memories of them now that her family circle had grown so small.

Clark had never known the pleasures of having an extended family. Her father had been a stranger to them since before Clark had come to them. Martha had known these pleasures, and lost them, but they remained in her heart and mind every holiday season, as integral a part of the Christmas experience as the current interactions with Clark and Jonathan. Her still-tangible family, which, God-willing, would be slightly bigger by next Christmas.

A radical change by then, Martha thought. She smiled, and smoothing a hand over the front of her body. She couldn't feel anything yet, no one knew, but...It would be strange, she acknowledged, at the times she dared to hope everything would indeed turn out all right.

The holiday season was bound to more of a challenge this year. Trying to combat the odd nausea, the bone-deep exhaustion that seemed to be sucking out her very insides was tough. She had never felt such all-encompassing fatigue before. And, this morning, the aroma of Clark's big mug of breakfast coffee and the giant, stale chocolate chip oatmeal cookie he'd brought from the Talon the day before had actually made her ill. The weakness, the dizzy spells. Some of the signs she remembered, though, from those times before Clark had come, when her hopes had been dashed, more than once.

It had seemed only imaginary, at first, this time. Just an autumn bout of the flu, surely. But now, she was positive. After so many years, so many disappointments.

She pressed a hand to her body, smoothed it down her front, feeling nothing, yet, but.... She had long ago given up any hope of having a child of her own blood. At first, she had been almost dismayed. She and Jon were both forty-two. She'd scurried through the mental math: how old would they be, when it came time for grade school, high school, college graduation? What would the impact on her family be? On her energy? Could she keep her job? Would they still be able to give Clark the attention he so desperately needed?

It would be an adjustment for Clark, no matter what. Her son was about as far from spoiled as a teenager could be, but he was still used to being the sole, primary focus of his parents' concern. That was inevitable, with an only child.. He'd have to learn to share that, and it might be tough. The age gap would be extreme. Probably too big for basketball games, campouts, and sharing of many experiences; they wouldn't have had a shared childhood. Still he would love having a sibling. She knew he would. But then...she smiled, feeling a vague pain. Clark was nearly seventeen, now. He'd be gone before long.

She'd figured, after Clark had come into their lives, that this was what she and Jonathan were destined for: giving all their care, attention and energy to this special being. Other children in addition would have demanded more than they'd have been able to give, meant their focus would have been dissipated. But, now that Clark was nearly grown, and headed for whatever destiny was his, apparently a higher power had other plans.

She had had to step back and reconsider, dazed and amazed. A miracle seemed to have happened. For the second time, really. She had to just let it unfold as it would. It might not be the high adventure it had been with Clark, but, it would be her own child...

Martha was ashamed of the unbidden thought at once. Clark was her child.

Jonathan and Clark would know by Christmas. After that, everyone would know. Including the Luthors; she'd have to tell Lionel and Lex. It wouldn't just be her secret, any longer. She longed to share it, yet still had to suppress a small shiver at the thought.

She and Jonathan had only grown closer the past year, despite the fact that she'd had to confront aspects of his personality that were less than savory, aspects that had suddenly come charging to the surface. Sometimes, he had seemed like a stranger, not the man she's known and loved for over twenty years. The nasty brush with the Nicodemus flower, his too-extreme dislike of the Luthors, He'd always been strict, uncompromising, seeing everything in black and white. The teddy-bear heart of gold beneath his often gruff exterior wasn't always apparent. Clark's discovery of his mysterious powers this past year had been the source of new conflict between father and son, as Clark yearned to know more, stretch himself to the limits of his abilities and Jonathan tried to hold him back. Martha had too often been stuck painfully in the middle of their disagreements. She knew how deeply her husband loved Clark. She knew also that at the bottom of Jonathan's closemindedness, the overprotectiveness, was fear. Her heart ached, for both of them.

They had known Clark would have to know about his origins in time, but the accident at the bridge had precipitated the revelation. It had also marked the beginning of Clark's friendship with Lex Luthor.

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A shadow fell across Martha's face, and she pulled her sweater tighter as she shivered. The sunlight had faded, and the room suddenly seemed cold. Having a good relationship with Lex at work was one thing, but, when it came to Lex and her son, her feelings were murkier. She could no longer hold her troubled thoughts at bay.

A friendship that was more than a friendship, she had suspected for some time and recently discovered for certain on one of those numerous nights when Lex had come to visit, as he had often during the summer, and even more frequently during the fall. He would often stop by Martha's desk at least twice a week and ask her to phone her husband to tell him he would be bringing her home. "I want to drop by and see Clark," he'd say simply. He'd usually insist on picking up take-out for the evening meal, and sometimes, she'd take him up on it. She hadn't really given it that much thought, being preoccupied with the strangeness and excitement of the almost-certain pregnancy and the brand-new job, although she'd wondered earlier if Lex's visits were mainly about getting some space from his father.

Clark would greet Lex easily, but his eyes would light up. "Wow, KFC. You guys rock!"

Sometimes the young men would play a quick game of basketball while she set everything out. Martha could tell that Lex hated losing. But Clark was bigger and taller, had spent most of his young years shooting hoops, and it showed.

By the time they straggled in for the meal, Martha usually served it up to the accompaniment of good-natured bickering.

Dinner itself was usually congenial. Lex never ate very much of whatever the main course was, but he always had dessert. He did seem to have a weakness for Martha's pies, particularly the fruit varieties. With ice cream, whatever kind happened to be in the freezer, rocky road, mint chocolate chip, raspberry swirl. He swore that the coffee ice cream-pecan pie combination would shortly be the most popular item on the Talon dessert menu.

At times, he consumed way more ice cream than pie, which Martha never failed to find amusing, and endearing. Sometimes she wanted to smooth a hand over his bald head, but she knew better than to touch Lex.

When they finished, Clark would smack his friend abruptly on the back, like clockwork. "Come on, Lex, let's go."

Lex would fold his napkin and push back his chair. "Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Kent. It was great, as usual." He'd say this whether or not she'd actually done the cooking.

Martha noted reluctantly that Lex kept a better poker face. It was Clark who had trouble keeping the heat and hunger from his gaze, every time his glance fell on his friend.

She learned awhile ago, to stay away from the barn when the boys would retire there after dinner, ever since the time she had gone out to ask Clark a mundane question she couldn't recall, and the world had shifted.

Clark was glum and quiet during dinner that night, upset about something, Ryan, she now thought it must have been, looking back. Ryan, poor, doomed boy, the only one so far to have sensed her "secret". Martha grieved and missed him herself and recalled that Clark had been nearly in tears. He answered thickly and minimally when anyone spoke to him.

That evening it was Lex who nudged him on the back after supper, taking Clark's usual role. "Come on, Clark,"

And Clark, head bowed, rose and followed him outside without a word.

She was concerned, and so made herself an excuse to go up to the loft.

Lex was beside Clark on the couch, very close, and had his arm around the younger man. Clark was wringing his hands, and crying.

Martha's stomach clenched; how she hated to see Clark unhappy.

"I just don't know, Lex," he was saying. "I don't know. I don't know anything, damn it." He slammed a hand on the couch.

"It's not.... It's okay. Come on, Clark."

Lex took him by the shoulders, held his eyes with his own, spoke earnestly to him. Martha couldn't make out but a few of the whispered words. Clark ducked his head and then threw both arms around his friend. Lex returned the embrace, stroking Clark's back.

Soon, the soft caresses had turned heated; Martha was afraid her quick intake of breath would be audible to the boys. Clark didn't pull away. He turned into the embrace, thowing his arms around Lex, sobbing, now. Martha watched as though mesmerized. She had no power to move.

Lex had put a hand on Clark's chest, began unbuttoning the younger man's shirt.

"I love you, Lex," Clark choked. "So much."

Lex didn't answer as he planted open-mouthed kisses on Clark's face, and fumbled with the buttons of Clark's shirt. Clark wasn't resisting. He was responding. In fact, it was he who had Lex pinned to the cushions within seconds, and was ravishing his lips with hot, practiced kisses.

Oh, my God, Martha had thought dully.

She felt the wooden stairs shift beneath her as she gripped the railing. Her heart thudded as though she were guilty of some crime. She had no memory of her rush back to the main house as she shut the porch door behind her.

When had it come to this? And how long had it been going on? Since the beginning? Since last summer?

Lex must have started it, of course. Lex, an adult (though barely) who should have known better.

She and Jonathan should do something, she thought, dazed, and then, horrified, wondered what would happen if Jonathan actually found out about this.

Again, Martha felt vaguely ashamed. It was none of their business, really.

But, Clark was their son. Of course it was. Even if he was growing up.

And, she had to admit, there was another part of her that wasn't surprised, not in the least. Deep down, she had suspected this. Just not wanted to face, examine, or admit it.

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After the loft, she had had to ask Clark about it. She hated doing it, but she had to. And at first, he'd been alarmed. He'd tried to deny it, but she was tenacious.

He'd caved, then, and said, yes, he and Lex had been lovers for months.

"Clark, I don't understand," she'd moaned, "This is serious. I've tried so often to defend Lex to your father, and now..."

"I know, Mom," he said in a low voice. "I'm sorry. But I can't help it."

"Here, all this time, we thought it was Lana-"

"Mom." Clark cast her a dark look, held up a hand abruptly to stop her. "I don't have any answers. I've always liked Lana. But, what I feel for Lex-it's way more powerful. More powerful than anything I've felt before."

He hesitated, then continued. "I don't know if it's forever. I just know I have to be with him now. Please, Mom. Try to understand. I know you probably can't, but try."

Martha just sighed, defeated. "Clark, Clark..."

"Don't be mad," he beseeched her.

"I'm not mad," she insisted. "But, honey, you're so young. How do you know that this isn't something that will be difficult to control., dangerous. How do you know-"

"I don't know," he almost shouted. "I don't know anything. Eexcept how Lex makes me feel. I can't refuse it, Mom. I love him."

Martha sighed heavily.

"And, please, Mom," begged Clark, "Could you not tell Dad for awhile? Please?"

Martha frowned, and started to refuse, then caught herself. She bit her lip, and nodded. What else could she do? The thought of telling Jonathan left her terrified.

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Ultimately, she hadn't had to tell Jonathan, anyway, though they still hadn't discussed it.

Just two nights before, Jonathan had come in from the fields to show something to Clark, or to both of the boys; Martha couldn't quite recall what it was.

"They're in the barn," Martha had indicated, up to her elbow in pie-crust dough.

Jonathan had lifted the curtain to look out the window into the gathering gloom of the evening. "Hmmph. They're always in the barn," he muttered. Martha had taken a quick breath, and turned back to her baking with renewed intent, but not before she'd seen the frown that settled on her husband's brow.

"What do you suppose they do out there every evening, Martha?"

She felt the blood fade from her face, but kept her voice light. "Oh, I don't know, Jonathan." She grabbed the rolling pin and attacked the pastry with less delicacy than usual.

"Hmmm." Said Jonathan. Martha's heart twisted at the sound, but she kept rolling. She'd noticed, too, that Jonathan stayed resolutely away from the barn when the boys were out there.

He knows, she thought, with both a strange sorrow and relief. Surely it was hard for Jonathan to accept that his boy was in love with Lex Luthor.

And, she thought, snuggling down further into the chair and wrapping her sweater even more tightly around her body, the holiday planning still needed to be done.

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Martha knew Lex and his father were planning to be in Metropolis over the Thanksgiving holiday. She therefore had an unexpected couple of days off.

She had asked Lex one morning at the Manor about the Luthor's Thanksgiving schedules. "Do you and your father have plans for the holiday, Lex?"

He didn't answer for a moment, but just bent his head. She couldn't quite read his expression. "Not really, Mrs. Kent. We don't do holidays together."

Well, all right. She determined to ask Lionel, too.

Lionel had been equally noncommittal. "I generally have business to attend to," he had averred. He sat facing the window in his study, even though he couldn't see outside. "And Lex is used to looking after himself."

Rubbish, thought Martha. Her heart twisted. For both of them.

Thanksgiving was out, then. But what about Christmas?

And, just like that, she decided to invite them over for Christmas dinner.

A modest part of her resisted the notion of the invasion of guests for any of the holidays, wanted to surrender to the urge to nest for the holiday with her immediate family. Eschew contact with the outside world, gather husband and son close, and hibernate. Relax, even with the cooking and the gifts to attend to. Maybe read a book while the holiday turkey was roasting, throw together some silly, sloppily put together, impractical appetizers that didn't look pretty, but tasted great. Sense the ghosts of those missing relatives hovering around the festive table.

But, that wasn't very charitable. She had much for which to thank the Luthors. The job had opened many new possibilities, and Martha knew what Lex's companionship had come to mean to Clark. It was pathetic that these powerful, successful men couldn't even manage a simple family dinner, even at a restaurant, on a holiday.

And, besides: it would be more festive for Clark if they had company. Children without siblings got a raw deal on holidays and vacations, stuck alone with the adults. It would be good for him to spend the holiday with a friend there. Good for Lex, too, who was in the same situation, even though he was technically (but barely) a grown man. Martha swore there was still a lonely child inside that sleek, cool exterior: one who wanted to be loved.

Right now, feeling the way she'd been lately, she couldn't imagine having the energy for an undertaking like this. But, she'd read enough books on the subject, even before getting pregnant, to know that she should be feeling better by then. Luckily, Clark could tidy up the house in two minutes flat, taking care of the hardest part of having company. The cooking was nothing, if you discounted the upset stomach and distaste for food brought on by the oddest things. But, with luck she'd have her appetite back by Christmas.

Now, she just had to convince Jonathan it would be a good idea. And, however could she do that?

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She must have dozed off. The room was nearly dark, and she started awake to the crackle of a fire. Warm hands kneaded her shoulders, and Jonathan bent down to nuzzle her neck.

"Everything okay, Sweetheart?" he whispered. She yawned, smiled, and nodded.

"Mmm," Jonathan murmured, taking a whiff of her fragrant, freshly-shampooed hair. "You smell good. Have a good afternoon?"

"Yes, very," said Martha. She leaned back into his arms, stretched, and sighed.

"Clark at the school?"

She nodded, and stretched again.

He began stacking the extra wood beside the fireplace. "Want some of this in the kitchen for the stove?"

Martha shivered. "Yes. It's chilly in here!"

He picked up an afghan from the couch and tucked it around her. "Well, we'll get you warmed up, Sleepyhead." Martha smiled as he nuzzled her cheek for a quick kiss.

Jonathan lifted the lid of the soup pot on the stove, took a whiff, and then hesitated.

She could tell something was on his mind.

"I've been thinking, Martha," he began. She took a breath and waited for him to continue.

"Lionel and Lex will be all alone up at their place on Christmas. Think they might like to join us for dinner that night?"

Martha was careful to appear as though this were a brand-new notion to her. And she tried desperately not to look as astounded as she felt that he had been the one to propose this. "I think they might," she said slowly, as though considering the possibility for the first time. "Jon, that would be a very nice gesture."

"Good," said her husband. "Go ahead and invite them, then."

Martha hoped her sigh of relief wasn't too audible. She couldn't resist a delighted grin behind Jonathan's back, and gave her wrist a subtle pinch to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

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She must have dozed off again, because the next thing she knew, it was fully dark except for the crackling and popping of the fire, and Clark was gently shaking her shoulder.

"Mom!" he exclaimed, "Wake up! You're not going to believe this!"

"What is it?" Martha sat up in alarm.

"Your pies were auctioned off for a total of $205.00! That's some serious dough! That's over thirty dollars a pie!"

"No!" Martha stretched, her eyes widening in amazement. "Well! I'll just have to stop working for Luthorcorp and open my own bakery, won't I?"

"I was so proud of you," said Clark, beaming. "No one else's Mom even baked."

"What time is it now," asked Martha. It really was time for her to quit being lazy and finish getting dinner ready.

"Nine-twenty," said Clark. He regarded her with a raised eyebrow and a frown of concern. "Kind of late for a nap, Mom."

"No, that's impossible!" Martha exclaimed. "Your father would never have waited that long to eat."

"Looks like he already ate," said Clark, indicating the empty bowl and glass in the dish drainer. "Looks like he even did the dishes. Wow? What's the occasion?"

"Maybe it's just that he loves me," Martha chuckled. This was really a first.

"How did the rest of the bazaar go?" she asked.

"I'll have to find out tomorrow," said Clark, "I just dropped your stuff off, hung around for maybe half an hour till the pies sold, and went back to Lex's," Clark sighed and smiled, looking a little uneasy as he waited for his mother's reaction.

"Oh," said Martha. There was a pause.

"Please don't get quiet when I talk about Lex, Mom," Clark begged. "I hate that."

Martha thought a moment. "I'm not," she said. "I'm okay with it, Clark, really I am. If you love Lex, well...that's good enough for me. He'll always be welcome here. Get this: your dad said to invite both of them for Christmas dinner."

Clark's light eyes grew as round as plates. For a moment, he looked like a child again, captured by holiday wonder.

"I love you, Mom," Clark murmured, hugging her tight. "And Dad, too. It's more than just the dinner, it's---" he broke off, and gave her an enthusiastic kiss. "Everything."

"I know, Clark," she said, returning the hug.

"Are you hungry?" Martha asked after a moment, lingering in the chair, reluctant to give up the afghan and her warm spot by the fire.

"Well," said Clark. "I had supper at Lex's. But, that was a while ago."

"Go get a bowl for some soup, then," said Martha with a laugh. "The crackers are in the cupboard."

He started away, and then circled back, his face fraught with sudden concern.

"Lex and Lionel?" he asked. "For real?"

And Martha nodded.

Clark whistled, low, raising his eyebrows, but he looked excited, too. "Are we ready for this, Mom?"

"We'd better get ready," said Martha. "It's going to be interesting!"

Martha indulged in one last snuggle under the afghan as she recalled a favorite saying of her grandmother's. Love goes where it's sent. If Clark was in love with Lex, she would give it her full support for as long as possible. The new year would bring many changes; some expected, some a surprise. She'd liked to have kept Christmas the same as those of long ago, but each new one would go toward making memories for the years to come. She would do her best to see that this one became a happy memory for everyone involved. Maybe Lex and Lionel could be a family, too, at least for one day.

She just wanted her son to have a happy life in general, and a good holiday, in particular.

Clark. And Jonathan. And Lex, too. And Lionel.

It would do them all good. That was one thing she was sure of.

She could handle this.

She really was getting up, now.

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