He Didn't Have to Be

By CarolM <carolmfolc@gmail.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: November 2009

Summary: Martha and her beau find something unexpected on their
drive home one night.

Author's Notes:

This was also published as Clark's paper in "On the Other
Hand." However, it can stand alone. For the purposes of this
story, I changed the dates to the ones based on show canon.

Thanks to my betas Beth, Nancy, Alisha and everyone else who read
and commented on this :).

***

May 1966

Martha

We were in the beat-up truck on our way home when we saw
something flash across the sky. Curious, we waited to see if
anything else was going to happen and when nothing did, we
climbed the gate into Shuster's Field.

"What do you think it was?" I asked in excited, but hushed,
tones.

He shook his head. "Beats me."

We hurried to the furrow whatever it was had dug into the earth.

There we found something we hadn't expected.

A tiny capsule lay there, and when I reached out to touch it, one
side fell off. He reached towards the other side and the same
thing happened, causing the top to lift with a hiss.

I gasped then whispered, "It's a baby."

He looked around furtively. "Well, we can't leave it here."

"This is not an 'it'," I said sternly.

"Well, can you tell if that's a boy or a girl through that
plastic?"

"Well, no, but until we know for sure, we're going with
'he'."

"Fine. We can't leave him here."

"You're right. We'll take him with us."

"And do what with him?" he asked. "We can't leave him here,
but which of us would take him home? And who would let either of
us keep him?"

I sighed, tears welling up in my eyes. "I know. We're not
married. They'd come and take him away and we'd never see him
again. If anyone knew how we really found him, the government
would lock him up and..." I choked up.

"...dissect him like a frog," he finished grimly.

"So what're we going to do?"

"Marry me."

"What?" I stared at him.

"You've been my best girl since we were five. We've talked
about it; we just hadn't made it official yet. So let's do it.
Oklahoma doesn't have a waiting period. We could run down there
and get married this evening. By the time we get back, there
won't be any reason for anyone to take him away from us. Unless
his birth parents show up, and somehow I don't see that
happening."

I bit my bottom lip and thought for a minute before I nodded.
"Okay. Let's do it."

He hurried off and backed the truck into the field. Together, we
managed to load the tiny craft into the bed and then covered it
with a tarp, securing it as we went.

"Let's drop this off at the farm before we go. We'll go in the
back way so no one will see us."

I nodded and climbed in beside him, still holding the tiny
infant. "Let's go."

Several hours later, we stood in front of a judge in a small town
just across the Oklahoma-Kansas border. We'd had to urge him
away from his favorite prime time comedy, but managed to convince
him that a dear friend had died that day and wanted to leave her
baby with us, but since we weren't yet married, we were afraid
that the Kansas Division of Child Services would take him away.

We'd planned on marrying, we said, just not this quickly. And
that was the truth.

Reluctantly he'd agreed and we exchanged vows. It had happened
too quickly to have rings to exchange as well, but he promised as
soon as we got home, he'd break out the engagement ring he'd
kept hidden for the last six months and we'd go to town to get
wedding bands tomorrow.

"By the power vested in me by the state of Oklahoma, I now
pronounce you husband and wife. You are now Mr. and Mrs.
Christopher and Martha Davis."

***

I held the baby while he sucked hungrily on another bottle of
formula. When we'd stopped at the house to hide the ship, I'd
fixed a bottle from the supplies my now sister-in-law left at the
house for their bi-weekly visits. I'd guessed he was about three
months old and had fixed him a six ounce bottle. He'd finished
it in no time flat and it had taken another eight ounces to fill
him up. Space travel must have left him hungry.

Chris sat beside me on the couch and wrapped one arm around me
pulling me and the baby close to him.

"What should we name him?" he asked softly.

"I don't know. What do you think?" I turned slightly and
kissed his jaw.

He swallowed hard. "None of that until that little guy's in bed
and then there's going to be some time for me and my bride." He
pulled us a little closer.

"You better believe there is." I knew my eyes twinkled at him.
"So what do you want to name him?"

"How about after your family?"

"Like what?"

"Clark."

"My maiden name," I said slowly then grinned. "My *maiden*
name. It's not my name anymore."

"Nope. You're a Davis now."

"I like it." I gently stroked the tiny cheek still working
vigorously on the bottle. "Clark Davis."

"What about a middle name?"

"Jerome," I said without hesitation.

"After my dad?" Tears filled his eyes.

"Yeah," I answered quietly. "He would have loved to see his
new grandson."

"That he would have. He never quite forgave Jenny for having
girls. Of course, he was wrapped completely around their little
fingers from about two minutes after they were born."

"He loved them, but you have four sisters. He wanted another
little boy in the family."

"We'll have to get Doc Johnson to help get a birth certificate
and stuff. What's our official story going to be?"

"An old friend of mine from college dropped him off on your
doorstep. I saw her earlier today but had no idea what she was
planning on doing. There were a couple of strangers in town today
so no one should question it. She left a note, asking us to
protect her identity and take care of her baby. We went to
Oklahoma and got married. Everyone knows we've always planned to
so... But, for some reason, she didn't explain in the note, she
didn't have a birth certificate or anything for him." I'd
thought about it a lot on the way to Oklahoma -- even working out
the wording of the note in my head. I'd have to write it soon,
disguising my handwriting as I did, of course.

"That works." He watched as I gently extracted the now empty
bottle from the mouth of his now sleeping *son*. I lifted him to
my shoulder and gently patted his back until he burped.

"Will you get that laundry basket? I put an old, flat pillow in
the bottom of it and it'll work for a bassinet until we can get
some real furniture."

He nodded and moved to get the basket off of *our* bed.

A few minutes later, little Clark was sound asleep, one fist in
his mouth, still wearing only a diaper we'd absconded from
Chris's sister's stash. "We need to get him some clothes," he
whispered as I set the basket in the living room, near the door
to the room we would now share. He glanced at the clock. "It's
eleven o'clock. Do you need to call home?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to deal with my parents right
now." I rested a hand lightly on his chest. "Right now, I want
to get to know my new husband better." I smiled shyly at him.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Are you sure you're
ready for this?"

"I've been ready since the first time you kissed me when I was
sixteen." I moved closer to him and kissed him lightly on the
lips. "Make me your wife in every sense, Chris," I whispered.

***

We lay in our newly shared bed, resting quietly in the afterglow
of something magical when the loud clanging of a bell halfway
across town shook us from our quiet reflection. I fingered the
engagement ring he'd slid onto my finger just before we'd made
love for the first time.

He jumped from the bed and pulled on his jeans. "I gotta go,
honey."

"I know."

Chris was a part of the volunteer fire brigade and when the bell
rang -- no matter the time of day or night -- they had to go. He
leaned over and gave me a long, lingering kiss. "Take care of
that boy of mine while I'm gone." He winked at me and moved to
the phone. He picked it up to hear Rob Miller and Darren Johnson
already on the party line. He confirmed the location then kissed
me -- his new bride -- again. "It's out at the Irig place.
It'll probably be light before I get back."

"Okay."

He kissed me again. "I love you, Martha Davis."

"I love you, too."

***

There was a knock on the door as I fried an egg. Clark had woken
up not long after Chris left and taken another big bottle. We'd
slept for a little over four hours after that. The sunlight
streaming in the window had kept me from sleeping much longer. I
rarely slept late, but after the unusual exertions of the day
before -- finding a baby and hiding a spaceship and a trip to
Oklahoma and becoming man and wife -- I could have slept for a
couple more hours without much trouble, but Clark decided it was
time to play for a bit after his seven am bottle. I wrote that
note and decided it was time to eat while I waited for Chris to
come back.

Clark was lying on the floor on a quilt Chris' grandmother had
made for us, knowing we'd marry someday but that she wouldn't
likely be around to see it.

I smiled at him as he studied his fingers intently and then moved
to the door.

I opened it to find a very somber Wayne Irig standing there with
his hat in his hand.

My hand went immediately to my stomach and I stumbled backwards.
I'd seen that look too many times.

"No," I whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Martha. He told us that you two had run off and
got married yesterday and that he'd tell us the rest of the
story later." He twisted the hat he held in his hands. "He
saved Josh." His voice broke. "He saved my son. He made it to
the back bedroom and threw a sheet down to us. He managed to wrap
Josh in another sheet and lower him far enough out the window
that he could drop him onto the sheet he'd tossed to us. Josh is
going to be fine, but the ceiling collapsed before..." He
couldn't go on.

I had backed away from Wayne as he spoke until I collapsed into
the chair in the living room. A small cry from the baby on the
floor gave me something else to focus my attention on. "Oh,
Clark," I cried. "Your daddy..." I clutched the baby to me and
rocked back and forth.

"Joe took the liberty of calling on your folks to tell them and
Darren was heading over to Jenny's house -- Chris said his mom
was over there last night. I'd imagine they'll be here soon."
He looked at the ground. "I gotta get back to my Maggie and
Josh, but if you need anything, Martha, please call us. We owe
Chris so much and if there's anything..."

I nodded, unable to find the words.

As Wayne turned to leave, I stopped him. "Wayne, would you have
Doc Johnson stop by if you see him? I need to have him look at
Clark here."

Wayne nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'll go find him before I head
home."

"Thank you."

***

My parents arrived not long after Wayne left and found me still
sitting in the chair rocking baby Clark. I refused to explain
until Chris's family arrived. When they did a few minutes later,
I managed, between tears and refusals to let go of the baby, to
tell them the story we'd concocted about a friend of mine from
college in Oklahoma. The marriage itself wasn't a surprise to
anyone, only the suddenness of it.

Over the next few days, the house was packed up -- I knew I
couldn't stay there by myself, not with a baby to care for. And
Chris' mom and sister, Deborah, and her husband still lived in
the bigger house across the farmyard so the farm would be taken
care of. I'd agonized over what to do with the spaceship we'd
found Clark in, but finally decided that Wayne owed us. I'd
covered it completely with tarps and called Wayne over. He'd
built a big crate around it and hid it on his farm, never asking
for more information than I was willing to give him.

I moved back into the room on my parents' farm that I'd
abandoned for only a few days. I spent most of my time with
Clark, rarely venturing out except to shop with my mother for
necessities for him and church on Sundays. The active social life
Chris and I had enjoyed disappeared and my world revolved around
the tiny baby that had literally fallen from the sky.

***

September 1970

"Clark Jerome Davis! Get back in here!" I hollered out the
door.

The dark haired four-year-old trudged silently in from the barn.

"What do you think you're doing, young man?"

He hung his head. "Sorry, Mama."

"You're a mess. I don't have time to give you another bath
before I leave, which means that Nana is going to do it."

"Aw, Mama, you give better baths." He frowned.

"Well, I gave you one earlier. You know better than to go play
in the barn after you've had a bath."

He scuffed a well-worn shoe against the wood of the porch.
"Sorry, Mama."

I smiled. "It's okay, Clark. Come here." I pulled him close to
my leg as he wrapped his arms around it and rested his head on my
hip. "But it means that Nana is going to have to give you
another bath and you need to be good for her."

"She doesn't let me play battleships," he pouted.

"I know, but that's because she doesn't have the energy to
keep up with a four-year-old at bath time anymore."

Clark sighed. "Where're you goin', Mama? Why can't you stay
with me? You can be my best girl."

I squatted down until I was at eye level with him. "I'll always
be your best girl, son, but tonight, that nice Mr. Smith from the
next county asked your Mama to go to a movie with him."

"Can I go? Please, Mama." His large brown eyes pleaded with me.
"I'll be good. I promise."

I smiled at him. "Not tonight. Maybe another time."

He glared at me and stomped off to his room.

My mother sat in her rocking chair next to the open window in the
living room. I knew she'd heard every word.

"I'm sorry you're going to have to give him another bath, but
he can't go to church in the morning looking like that," I told
her.

"I know, dear. Me and my arthritis might even let him play
battleships for a while, if he's good between now and then."
Mom smiled at me. "So, tell me about Mr. Smith."

"His first name is Andrew and he seems like a nice man."

"Is he picking you up?"

I shook my head. "I'm meeting him at Maisie's. Maisie's
picking me up here in a little while and we're going to the
movies with her and Joe."

"Is he going to bring you home?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"You didn't tell him about Clark yet, did you?" my mother
asked gently.

I sighed. "No. I didn't. Most everyone from around here knows
about him, but Andrew isn't from here. He's from far enough
away that he doesn't know our story." I didn't wilt under my
mother's disapproving stare. "I will tell him. There's no
point in a second date if he's not willing to even consider
raising another man's son."

We turned as we heard a car coming up the road.

"That's Maisie. I'll be home later. Thanks, Mom." I kissed
her forehead. "Clark!" I called. "I'm leaving. Come here."

Clark came running down the stairs. "Don't go, Mama." He
buried his head in my leg. "I promise; I won't play in the barn
anymore."

I knelt down on the floor. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Please don't go. I'll be a good boy." His bottom lip
quivered.

I tipped his chin up with her finger. "You are a good boy.
You're my best boy. And I'll be home tonight. You'll be
asleep, but I'll be home *long* before you wake up, okay?"

Clark nodded.

"You be good for Nana, okay?"

Clark nodded again then wrapped his arms around my neck. "I love
you, Mama."

"I love you, too." I returned the hug and gave him a big kiss
before straightening up and heading for the door.

***

Clark

I watched as Mama climbed into the truck with Miss Maisie. I'd
heard what she said to Nana. Why was she going out with this Mr.
Smith if she didn't think he'd want to... what was it she'd
said? Raise another man's son. Why wouldn't Mr. Smith want to
help take care of me? I was a good boy, even if I did forget and
play in the barn sometimes when I wasn't supposed to.

Pete had a daddy. They ran the grocery store in town. So did Lana
-- her daddy was the mayor and Rachel's daddy was the sheriff.
Josh's daddy was a farmer like Pop Pop was. And Pop Pop was
Mama's daddy, but I didn't have a daddy. Well, Mama said my
daddy died a very long time ago when I was too little to remember
it but that he'd loved me very much.

I was a good boy and my Nana let me play battleships for a few
minutes in the bathtub. I was sound asleep when a noise woke me
up.

Mama's laughter wafted up from the porch and through my open
window. A man's voice joined hers. That must be the nice Mr.
Smith. I wanted to meet him.

I climbed out of bed and walked quietly down the stairs. I
reached the open screen door and pushed on it.

"Mama, can I sit with you for a little while?" I asked rubbing
my eyes.

"Clark," she exclaimed. "What are you doing up? You're
supposed to be in bed, young man."

I shuffled to her side. "I'm sorry, Mama. I heard you laughing
and wanted to come sit with you is all."

She smiled and held out her arm. I walked readily into her
embrace. "Andrew, this is my son, Clark. Clark, this is Mr.
Smith."

I held out a small hand. "It's my pleasure to meet you, Mr.
Smith." Just like I'd been taught.

"It's nice to meet you, Clark."

Martha smoothed my hair back out of my face. "Why don't you run
on upstairs and I'll tuck you in when I come up?"

"Okay." I moved back inside and climbed back in bed. Voices
came through the window but I couldn't quite make out what they
were saying.

A few minutes later, Mama was sitting on the side of my bed as
the sound of gravel indicated that Mr. Smith was leaving.

"Did you have fun, Mama?" I asked with a yawn.

"I had a nice time." She pushed that one lock of hair back off
my forehead.

"Are you going to see him again?"

"Oh, I don't know. He lives awfully far away from your Nana's
house so I don't know that things would work with him."

"What kind of work? Like on a farm?"

"Yes, he works on a farm, but it's a long ways from here."

"Oh."

"Get some sleep, little man."

"Good night, Mama."

"Good night, Clark." She pulled the blanket up around me and
pressed a kiss to my forehead before leaving.

***

Martha

After church the day after my date with Andrew Smith, Clark was
lying in his bed playing with his toy cars. He was really
supposed to be napping but as long as he was quiet I didn't
mind.

I closed the door and went downstairs to sit on the couch. I
leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

"How was your evening, dear?"

"You don't waste any time, do you, Mom?"

"No. Life's too short to waste time."

"Yeah," I said softly, thinking of the time Chris and I had
wasted. We should have gotten married the minute I got home from
college in December instead of waiting another six months after
that. "That it is."

"So?"

"The evening was very nice until we were chatting on the porch
and Clark came out."

"He was up?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He heard us laughing and came down."

"Had you told him about Clark yet?"

"No."

"How'd he take it?"

I sighed. "Not well. He made some... derogatory remarks about
Clark and his father. I told him that it was none of his business
at this point and if he stuck around long enough and I thought it
might be going somewhere, he'd get the whole story but not until
then. I only told him that I'd been married to a wonderful man
who died saving a little boy's life. He made another rude
comment and I told him he'd better leave before he found himself
walking funny for the next week."

"I'm so sorry, dear."

I shrugged. "If someone isn't willing to accept my son, he's
not worth my time." We sat for another minute before I
continued. "You know, in some ways it was more like a job
interview than a date. He may not have realized that but it was
-- an interview for the job as Clark's dad. If he isn't willing
and able to that job, there's no way he's going to end up being
my husband."

"There's someone out there for you, dear. I know there is."

"Maybe. But maybe Chris was it. I'd rather have Clark any day
of the week than someone who doesn't understand that it's
possible to love someone else's child as though he were your
own. Clark wasn't Chris' son either -- and he's not mine,
biologically -- but that doesn't matter to me and it didn't
matter to Chris."

"Mama?"

My eyes grew suddenly wide. "Clark? You're supposed to be lying
down."

"I know but I need some water. What do you mean I'm not
Chris's son? I thought Chris was my daddy and you're my Mama."
His lower lip quivered and the big brown eyes filled with tears.

"Come sit with me." I patted the couch next to me. When he was
curled up next to me, I continued. "Clark, sometimes when a mom
and dad have a baby, they can't take care of him well enough and
so they give him to someone else who can take care of him. One
day, when you were very little, your mom and dad realized that
they couldn't take care of you and so they gave you to me and
Chris because they knew how much we would love you and how well
we could take care of you."

"But Chris went away." His voice still trembled.

"You know your friend Josh?"

He nodded.

"Well, one night -- the same night you came to live with us --
Chris had to go help fight a fire at Josh's house. Josh was just
a tiny baby, like you were at the time. Chris went into the house
even though it was on fire and he saved baby Josh."

"Why didn't he get out?"

I shook my head. "There wasn't time. He saved Josh, but he
couldn't save himself. He loved you and he loved me very much,
but he had to leave us."

"What about my other mom and dad?"

"They loved you very much, but for some reason, they couldn't
take care of you and they wanted to make sure that you were taken
care of so they sent you to us."

"Will you always take care of me, Mama? Or are you going to send
me away too?"

I hugged him a little tighter. "I'm always going to take care
of you. I'm not ever going to send you away."

"Not even if you can't find someone who wants to live with us
and be my daddy? You won't send me away so you can find a grown
up man?"

I turned his head until he looked me in the eye. "Clark, if a
grown up man doesn't want to be your daddy, then he's not man
enough to live with us. Ever. I wouldn't ever marry someone who
doesn't love you as much as I do and if I never find someone
like that, I have you and that's more important. I love you more
than I love the idea of being married again."

"You were married to my daddy?"

"Yes, I was, sweetheart."

"And you loved him?"

"Very much."

"Do you think there's another man out there who would love both
of us?"

"I don't know, sweetie. But until we find one, it's you and me
okay?"

He nodded. "And Nana and Pop Pop."

I laughed. "And Nana and Pop Pop."

***

June 1971

Clark

I met the man I call my Dad when I was five-years-old.

"You have a date tonight, Mama?" I asked.

"I do." She hunted through her jewelry box looking for her
other earring.

"Is he going to be mean like that Mr. Smith was last year?"

"I hope not."

"Is he going to be nice like Mr. Johnson?"

Mama laughed. "Mr. Johnson is nice, Clark." I knew Mr. Johnson
was nearing eighty, but said he loved me like his own grandson
and even let me call him Pop sometimes.

"Is he going to be nice like my daddy was?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know. He seems like a nice man, but I don't know if
he's going to be as nice as your daddy until I've talked to him
a while."

"Does he know about me?" I didn't look at her as I spoke.

"Yes, he knows about you." Finding the earring at last, she
slid it into her ear and fastened it.

"What's his name?"

"His name is Mr. Kent. He lives over on the farm by Josh. He's
been in the Navy and just came home to help his mama take care of
their farm since his brother is moving to Arkansas."

"That's nice of him."

"That's very nice of him." She found her watch and put it on.

"And he doesn't live far away like Mr. Smith did."

"No," Mama said slowly. "He doesn't."

"So if he does turn out to be nice like my daddy, we wouldn't
have to be far from Nana and Pop Pop."

"No, we wouldn't, but Clark?"

"Yes, Mama?"

"Even if things go well with him tonight, and I decide to see
him again, that doesn't mean we're going to get married. It
might be a long time before we decide to get married, even if he
does turn out to be a nice man." She looked me in the eyes.
"And I don't want you saying anything to him about it, okay?"

"Okay."

***

I hid at the top of the stairs when I heard the knock on the
door. This Mr. Kent better treat Mama right or I would have
something to say about it. I wasn't sure what that meant but Pop
Pop had said it once so I thought it.

Mama opened the door and I heard them saying something I
couldn't quite make out, but I guessed they were saying hello.

"Clark?" Mama called.

"Yes, Mama?" I called back.

"Can you come here please?"

I hesitated, afraid I was going to be in trouble for sitting
there, and then made my way slowly down the stairs.

"Come here, son." Mama smiled at me and held out her arm. I
practically ran to her, almost hiding behind her leg. "Mr. Kent
wanted to meet you before we left."

I looked up. "Hi, Mr. Kent."

The larger man knelt down so that we were eye to eye. "You know,
Clark, I don't think I'd like it too much if some strange man
came to my house and took my mama out to dinner and a movie
without knowing something about him first."

"Yes, sir." I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but I'd
found it was always best to agree with grown-ups.

"So, what if you came with us? I wouldn't want you to stay up
worrying about your mama."

I looked up with wide eyes at Mama. "Can I, Mama? Can I come?"

A single tear streaked down Mama's face. "Of course you can. If
Mr. Kent wants you to come, then that would be wonderful. You
know I always love spending time with you."

My small hand reached up and brushed away the tear. "Then why
are you crying?"

"No reason," she smiled. "So what do you say? Are you going to
come with us?"

A wide grin split my face and I let go of her leg to jump up and
down. "Yes!" I quickly tamped down my excitement. "I'm in my
pajamas. I can't go to town in my pajamas."

"Well, we better get you changed. Come on." Martha pushed me
towards the stairs. She turned to the other man before she
followed. "We'll be right back." I knew she was almost crying
again. "Thank you," she said quietly. I wasn't sure what she
was thanking him for.

He smiled at Mama. "I'll be waiting."

***

I sat by the window in the old pickup truck. I knew it had been
washed that afternoon. Mama sat between me and Mr. Kent. I liked
Mr. Kent. I bet Mr. Kent was trying to impress Mama with the
clean truck. A clean truck probably would impress her -- clean
little boys sure did.

We went to Maisie's Diner for dinner. I got to have a
cheeseburger and fries *and* a milkshake. Mama always made me get
water on the rare occasions we went out to eat. I'd dutifully
ordered water just as usual, but Mr. Kent had been the one to
suggest a milkshake.

After dinner, a drive by the movie theater showed the only
choices were a girly princess movie or something Mama and Mr.
Kent had indicated was for 'grown ups'.

Instead, Mr. Kent suggested we go for a drive and watch the stars
for a while. Before long, the truck was parked on the little road
near Shuster's Field. The three of us climbed in the back of the
truck and Mr. Kent spread a blanket out for us to sit on.

I talked for a while about my friends and the frog I'd found the
day before and how my Mama was much nicer about frogs than most
other mamas. Nana was, too. Grandma Davis would never, ever let a
frog in the house and neither would aunts Jenny or Deborah. Aunt
Dorrie might but she lived a long ways away.

There was a slightly weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, but
I decided it was because I'd never been on a real date before.
Before long, I dozed off, my head resting on Mr. Kent's shoulder
as they continued to talk quietly. Well, I guess they did. I was
asleep. I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep when I suddenly
jerked awake.

"Mama, I think I'm gonna be sick." The words barely made it
out of my mouth, when my dinner followed -- all over the nice Mr.
Kent.

Mama helped me to the side of the truck where the rest of my
dinner found its way onto the ground. I could hear Mr. Kent
moving around behind me. When I thought I was done, I sat back in
Mama's arms.

"Here," said Mr. Kent, holding out a Thermos of water. "Take a
sip and swish it around then spit it out."

I nodded and did as I was told. Mama held me close to her and
pushed my hair back out of my face. "Are you okay, Clark?"

"I dunno. My tummy still hurts."

She looked at Mr. Kent. "I'm so sorry, Jonathan. He's never
sick."

He smiled back at her. "It's okay. It's just one of those
things, but I think we better get this little guy home."

Mama nodded. "That's probably best." She helped me climb down
and into the cab, keeping me close to her the whole time.

Mr. Kent changed shirts, I noticed. He must have kept another one
in the truck just in case a five-year-old threw up on him or
something.

I knew Mama had loved Chris, but I'd never thrown up on him. If
Mr. Kent still wanted to be part of our lives after I threw up
all over him, maybe he was a good guy after all.

***

September 1971

I was lying in bed a few months later, when I heard Mama and Mr.
Kent talking on the porch and I wanted to go sit with them. I
remembered the night I'd gone out there when she was talking to
Mr. Smith and that hadn't turned out so well. Maybe going down
there wasn't such a good idea after all.

But this was Mr. Kent. He liked me, even though I'd thrown up
all over him. He'd even taken me fishing a couple of times. I
loved to fish but Pop Pop couldn't fish much anymore because of
his roomba something that made his knees hurt. And Grandpa Jerome
had died before I came to live with Mama and my Daddy Chris.
That's why my middle name was Jerome. Mama was the only one who
ever used it though and then only when I was in trouble.

I hated getting middle named.

Would she middle name me if I went down to sit with them a bit
tonight? I hadn't seen Mr. Kent in nearly a week because he'd
been busy on his farm.

Finally, I decided it was worth the risk.

I went downstairs and pushed the screen door open. "Mama, can I
sit with you for a little while?"

Mama smiled at me. "If it's okay with Mr. Kent."

I looked at him hopefully and he smiled at me, too. "Of course.
Come on, Clark. Come sit over here."

I climbed between them and rested my head on Mama as she wrapped
her arm around me.

"You know," Mr. Kent said seriously. "There's something I've
been wanting to ask your mama and I think it's only right that I
ask her with you here too, because it affects you."

I had no idea what he was talking about. It sounded like grown-up
decisions and I didn't get to help with grown-up decisions.
Getting to help with this one made me feel very grown-up indeed.

He cleared his throat and then stood up and wandered around the
porch for a minute looking kinda nervous. I knew he'd been
really nice when I'd thrown up on him, but I didn't know if I
could be as nice as he was if he threw up all over Mama. And he
looked a little green around the gills, as Nana might say.

After a minute, he came back and bent down in front of us,
putting one knee on the ground. He pulled a box out of his pocket
and opened it.

It was a pretty ring. It wasn't like the one Mama wore on her
right hand. She said she wore it on the right because she was a
widow. A widow was a lady whose husband had died, she'd told me.
This was like the one Nana wore with the ring that was like the
one Mama had. She wore them on her left hand because Pop Pop was
alive.

She gasped. "Jonathan!"

"Martha Clark Davis, will you marry me?"

Marry him? He wanted to marry Mama? "Does that mean you'll be
my Daddy?" I asked, not noticing I'd interrupted them.

He looked at me very seriously. "I'd like to be your Daddy.
I'd like to be your Mama's husband. I love both of you very
much and I want to help take care of you."

I stood up and looked at him carefully then knelt down next to
him. "Mama, will you marry Mr. Kent?"

She wiped the tears from her face as she nodded. "Of course I
will." She reached out and touched Mr. Kent's face. "I love
you too, Jonathan."

He took the ring out of the box and looked at it closely. "I
know this isn't an engagement ring, and if you want me to get
you one I will -- gladly. But I was thinking. Chris was a big
part of your life for a very long time and he is always going to
be a part of your heart and part of Clark's, too. Would it be
okay with you if you still wore Chris's engagement ring with my
wedding band?"

I didn't understand Mama's tears as she took the ring off her
right hand. Mr. Kent stuck the other ring back in the box and
took the one my Daddy Chris had given her.

He put the ring on her left hand and she kissed him. That was
yucky and I couldn't help but make a disgusting noise.

Jonathan laughed and stood up and swung me around. "We're gonna
be a family, son."

It was the first time he'd called me son. I thought he almost
had a few times before, but he'd stopped himself.

He was right. Mama and I were a great family. And we had Nana and
Pop Pop but Mama's brother, Jerry, was talking about wanting to
move here and help with the farm and it would be a tight fit for
all of us. He was married with three little girls of his own and
I would have to share my room with a girl. No, thank you.

Was that why Mama was going to marry Mr. Kent? He was still
holding me and Mama had come to stand next to him and his arm was
around her. "Mama?" I asked.

"Yes?" Her eyes were still bright with tears, but her smile was
bright, too.

"Are you marrying Mr. Kent because Uncle Jerry is moving here
and there's not enough room?"

"No! Clark, I love Mr. Kent and I'd marry him whether Uncle
Jerry was moving in or not."

"Good." That was settled.

***

Martha

Jonathan had asked me to marry him. He was a dear, wonderful man,
but I knew before we could actually get married, I needed to tell
him about Clark. The whole truth about Clark.

The next day, I called Wayne Irig up and asked him to deliver the
crate that he'd been keeping for me since Chris died to the Kent
farm. A couple days after that, he did.

Then Jonathan called. "Martha, do you know anything about this
crate Wayne just dropped off?"

I sighed. I hadn't known when Wayne would get around to it.
"Yes, I do," I said softly. "Instead of going to dinner in
town tonight, can we stay at your house and I'll tell you all
about it?"

"Of course. Can you tell me what it's about?"

"Clark." That was all I would say. "Please don't ask anymore
right now."

"Okay," he replied simply. "I'll pick you up around six?"

"No, that's okay. I'll drive over." I thought he'd
understand, but on the off chance that things went terribly
wrong, I would have a way home.

"I'll see you then."

***

I was nervous when I got there. Jonathan asked if I wanted to eat
first. He wasn't the world's greatest cook, but he made a mean
barbeque sauce and knew his way around a grill.

His mom had moved into the little house on the other side of the
farmyard a few weeks earlier. I thought she knew Jonathan was
going to propose to me and didn't want me to feel like she was
part of the package. She was, of course, but that wouldn't have
stopped me from marrying him. She made the world's best potato
salad and had brought some over soon after I arrived then
retreated to her own house.

I only picked at my dinner and Jonathan picked up on it
immediately.

He finally set his fork down. "What is it, Martha? Are you
having second thoughts about marrying me?"

Tears filled my eyes. "No. I want to marry you very badly. But I
have something to show you, something to tell you and after that,
you may not want to marry me."

"What is it?"

I wiped my mouth on my napkin even though I hadn't eaten a bite
in over ten minutes. "Where did Wayne put that crate?"

"In the barn, like you asked him to."

"Well, let's go."

We walked to the barn and I had him pry the top off, but told him
to leave the tarps in place. They were more worn than I
remembered, but it had been five years.

"I haven't told you the whole truth about some things," I
finally said, sitting on one of the milking stools. "I'm sorry
if that hurts you, but I had to be sure before I told anyone else
about this. Chris was the only one who knew. Even Wayne only
knows that he's been keeping a crate for me."

Jonathan pulled up another stool and sat down near me. "Well, I
can't say that I'm happy that you've kept something from me,
but you must have had your reasons."

"I did," I said softly, still refusing to look at him.

"And I can't imagine what it might be that you're about to
tell me that would make me not want to marry you."

"Before I tell you the rest of the story, how much do you know
about me and Chris and Clark?"

He shrugged. "I remember you and Chris being inseparable since
kindergarten. I wasn't surprised to hear you'd gotten married.
Other than that, I know you weren't married very long but that
you had Clark."

"Clark isn't my biological son," I said quietly. "He wasn't
Chris' either."

Jonathan nodded slowly. "I'd heard that he was the son of an
old friend of yours or something."

I chuckled wryly. "Try or something."

He looked at me, puzzled, but didn't say anything.

"One night, we found Clark, abandoned. We weren't married yet
and knew that no one would let us keep him if we weren't so we
went to Oklahoma and got married that night. We told everyone an
old friend from college had contacted me and her dying wish was
for us to raise her son. We drove back up here and fed him and
put him to bed and then..." Even though I knew I'd been married
to Chris and Jonathan knew I'd been married to Chris, it was
still a little weird to talk about. I took a deep breath. "We
made love for the first time -- the only time -- and then he was
called to the Irig's. He saved Josh, but the ceiling collapsed
on him."

"Oh, Martha. I had no idea that you were only married that
long."

I wiped the tears away. "It's okay. We had a wonderful few
hours together and if I could have Chris back but Josh would die
instead... Well, I wouldn't do that. Wayne came by the next
morning and told me what happened and told me to call him if I
needed anything. I called him a few days later and had him build
a crate around something wrapped in tarps and asked him to store
it for me indefinitely without asking any questions about it. And
he did. He has. When I called him the other day, it was the first
time we've talked about it in five years."

"Well, I haven't heard anything so far that's going to make me
not want to marry you."

"I'm getting there. I haven't told you how we found Clark. We
were driving near Shuster's Field and we saw a light in the sky.
We pulled over and investigated. There was something in the field
and in it was Clark."

"What was it?"

I pointed to the crate, but didn't say anything.

"Can I look now?"

"Brace yourself."

He looked oddly at me, but nodded then moved to the side of the
crate. He pulled the tarps off then gasped. "What's this?"

"A spaceship of some kind," I whispered. "Clark was in it."

"Is he..." Jonathan hesitated. "Is he an alien?"

I shrugged. "We didn't know. All we knew was a little baby had
literally dropped in our laps and we weren't about to tell
anyone. Chris was afraid someone would take him from us and
dissect him like a frog. We didn't know if he was from another
planet or an experiment from the Soviet Union or even from our
own government. We went to Oklahoma and got married. We were
planning on it and Chris had bought the engagement ring six
months earlier but hadn't actually asked yet."

"So when do we get to the part where I don't want to marry
you?"

I smiled through my tears. "Well, if I haven't scared you off
yet..."

He sat back down and took my hand. "You haven't."

"We wondered -- if he was an alien -- if he would be different
from us when he grew up. Or -- if he was an experiment -- if
he'd been genetically enhanced. I'm sure you've noticed things
about him. He sees a little better than most kids. He's faster
than the first graders even though he's only going into
kindergarten. He's stronger than other little boys and he hears
a lot better too. Except for the time he threw up all over you,
he's never been sick -- not even an ear infection. I don't know
what that means for him growing up, but I have a feeling that he
could be challenging. Not because he's not a good boy, he is,
but because of his heritage -- whatever that is."

Jonathan nodded slowly. "I can see how that might be, but I
still don't see why I wouldn't want to marry you."

"It's one thing to ask you to raise another man's son. It's
another to ask you to raise a little boy who could very well be
an alien."

"You and Chris didn't turn away a little boy who needed you,
why would I?"

I squeezed his hand a little tighter. "I didn't think you
would, but you never know." I stared at our joined hands. "Do
you understand why I couldn't tell you until I was sure?"

He smiled at me and tugged on my hand until I moved to sit on his
lap. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me gently. "I
do."

"Remember those words, Mr. Kent. I hope you're going to need
them."

"I am," he said softly and kissed me again.

***

October 1971

Clark

Two weeks later, Pop Pop walked Mama down the aisle. Mama and Mr.
Kent had decided they didn't want to wait and that two weeks was
more time to plan than Mama had had for her wedding to Daddy
Chris. I stood there next to Mr. Kent in my best Sunday suit and
tried not to tug at the neck. My shoes were too tight and I
couldn't breathe right but it was hard not to squirm even though
Nana had just reminded me not to a few minutes earlier.

Preacher Rob, Maisie's husband who'd been there the night Daddy
Chris had saved Josh, said some stuff I didn't really
understand. Something about deers and loving. I loved deer. It
was good and Mr. Kent knew how to make it right -- just like Pop
Pop did. Then he said something about holding peas but I didn't
have any so I stuck my hands in my pockets. Then Mama and Mr.
Kent said some stuff to each other about loving cherries. I think
I was hungry. Everything had to do with food and Nana had made
cherry pie for later.

Then Mr. Kent put the ring on Mama's finger and Mama put one on
his. Then Preacher Rob said Mr. Kent could kiss Mama so he did.
It was yucky, but they were both smiling when they were done. I
figured I'd have a lot of that to look forward to in the future.
Them kissing that was.

Mama was moving into Mr. Kent's -- I mean Daddy's -- house that
night. She'd already taken all of our things over there. Well,
he'd helped and I had my own room over there, but they told me I
had to stay with Nana and Pop Pop one more night. Lana said
something about them wanting to be alone to fight over who got
which side of the bed since they'd sleep in the same bed now and
they wouldn't want to fight over it in front of me. I didn't
see what the big deal was, but I didn't understand grown-ups.
I'd tried kissing Lana and didn't see why they wanted to do
that all the time. She'd pushed me down and told me to not ever
do that again.

We had dinner in the church rec room and I got to eat cherry pie
*and* cake. Two pieces of each. And a piece of pecan pie that
Rachel's mama brought. And my new Granny Kent had made her
famous potato salad so I had some of that too. My tummy didn't
feel good after that, but I didn't throw up on Mr. Kent -- Daddy
-- this time. Grandma Davis was there, of course, and happy for
Mama and Daddy, but she didn't cook much anymore or I would have
had to eat some of her fruitcake. I didn't like it but Mama
would want me to eat some, to be polite.

Daddy and Mama danced then asked if I'd like to dance with them.
I said I would but I didn't think I wanted to dance with any
other little girls. I'd tried dancing with Lana while they were
dancing by themselves, but she pushed me down again. Daddy
laughed and said that someday I would. I told him he was wrong.

He picked me up in one arm and wrapped the other around Mama. The
three of us just kind rocked a bit, but I guessed that was
dancing.

There with Mama and Daddy, we'd gone from something's missing
to a family.

Looking back, all I can say about all the things he did for
me...

I can only hope that I'm at least half the dad that he didn't
have to be.

THE END