When First We Met

[Doranwen]

I thought it was a typo too. I still think it oughta be "anticdotes"; after all, "anec" isn't a separate word . . .
A VERY clever turn of words. This is a very likeable version of Jonathan and Martha's relationship.

[Smallvillian]

-----

"This is where we keep the livestock." Martha and Jonathan leaned against the wood fencing that went on for what seemed like miles and observed the large, slow-moving herds of bovine chewing lazily on thick blades of grass.

"Aw, look at that one. He's so little." She pointed to a small brown and white calf with an odd-shaped marking over his forehead. He seemed lost and wandering, looking for a safe place to settle and rest.

"Him? He was born two days ago. His mother died. I've been trying to bottle feed him but he doesn't seem to like it very much."

"Oh, how sad. What's his name?"

"Well, sweetheart, beef cattle don't usually have names, as a general rule. It makes it harder to, um...." He made a cutting gesture across his throat with his index finger.

"That's terrible," she gasped. For a second, he might as well have said, "Yes, I shot Bambi's mother, and I liked it, too." An apologetic lift of his eyebrow was all he could offer at first. She must have looked as mortified as she sounded, though, because he glanced back at the little animal and appeared to be studying him closely.

"I'm afraid that's part of what we do, but..." He paused and watched the little one trotting back and forth. "I tell you what, though. If you want, you can have that little fella," he said, nodding toward the small calf.

Of course, now Martha felt beyond silly. Farmers didn't raise cows as pets, for goodness' sake. She knew that, but seeing that little one out there and so helpless, it just seemed so cruel. She peeked up from under half-lowered lids. "You'd really do that?"

Jonathan scraped at the dirt with his foot and gripped the fence, looking down at the ground. "Sure I would."

"Really?" She was grinning now, nearly giddy. "You won't...? You know."

He looked up from the spot he'd been focusing on and shook his head, happy to have pleased her. "You can name him anything you want," he said, squinting against the bright afternoon sun.

Martha pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side as she thought seriously on the matter. "I've--I've never had a cow before. I'm not exactly sure what to--well, it is Christmas time so it should probably be fitting to the occasion," she reasoned and tapped her finger against her lips. All at once it came to her. "Joseph."

"First, I should point out that technically your 'cow' is a bull. You wouldn't want to give him a complex," he kidded. "And second," --now it was Jonathan's turn to sound dubious-- "...Joseph?"

"He was given a great blessing at Christmas, right? And I'd say our little friend's been blessed, wouldn't you?"

"I guess he has at that," he agreed, resting an arm over the fence. "Joseph it is." He put his other arm around her again. "Do you wanna feed him?"

"Could I?" Not that she had ever fed a calf before either, but how hard could it really be? He was such a dear-looking little thing. She just wanted to grab him up and take him home. Her father would have a stroke at the thought, though, and they couldn't exactly keep him in the living room. But what a conversation starter that would be.

"Just give me a minute to get him out for you." Jonathan grabbed up a small rope and halter off a nail by the gate, ducked through a space in the fence, and jogged off toward the calf. A few strides short of the animal, his jog lessened to a walk. Martha watched as the calf sniffed tentatively at the man before him, his ears pinned close to his head, until apparently finally deciding he recalled the scent and had no fear of it. Jonathan ran a reassuring hand along the animal's side, then slipped the halter easily into place.

Joseph tossed his head in objection, stamped his front hoof to drive the point home, and stood firmly in place. A light tap at his hindquarters had no effect except causing his nostrils to flare. Another more firm tap had him reconsidering his choices, and he finally stumbled forward, keeping pace with his keeper.

"He hasn't exactly gotten the concept of cooperation yet," Jonathan explained as he approached the gate and eased it open, his little companion following close behind. "But he's learning. We'll take him back to the barn and feed him. Eventually he'll get the idea that food and people go together."

Martha squatted down to look the young calf in the eye and put out her hand, only to have him throw his head and take a step back. "It's okay," she whispered and tried again. His nostrils quivered but he didn't withdraw.

The skin just above his lip was velvety soft. Hot breath puffed in and out of his little nose. Jonathan continued to stroke him along his oversized ears while she petted the length of his face. Suddenly, he let out a meek but hearty cry. Jonathan smiled. "He says hi."

----

"Calves have to consume a tenth of their bodyweight each day, but they also need to build up their immunity to fight off viruses and infections. They usually get that from their mothers. Our little Joe here doesn't have that advantage, and for some reason none of the other females have taken to him."

Martha sat on the end of a couple of bales of hay inside the barn, holding the rope that dangled just under her young calf's chin, watching him flick his tail back and forth from time to time. She listened carefully as Jonathan explained all the meticulous care involved with the animal and was glad that he didn't make her feel out of place. She wasn't a "clueless city girl" being hand-held through the process, just a girl whose boyfriend happened to know a lot about cows and enjoyed discussing them with her.

"So," he went on, "we have to make sure he gets enough nutrition to keep him healthy." He screwed the cap on the large bottle he had been preparing and gave it a shake then handed it to her. "There you go."

"How do I...?"

"Here." He stepped behind her, sat straddling the bales of hay, and slipped his arms under hers. Holding the bottle near the bottom while she held the middle, he squeezed until a droplet of milk dribbled onto the calf's lower lip. A curious little tongue lapped up the white liquid and eagerly saught more.

"Whoa." Jonathan's left arm slid reflexively around her middle, trying to balance them both, while their little friend shoved and pushed closer to his food source, till finally suckling greedily at the rubber nipple presented to him. "I guess he likes it after all."

"Oh my," she laughed, and Jonathan relaxed his hold but kept his arm where it was.

Little Joseph happily guzzled down his lunch. When he'd finally downed the last drop, he nosed the bottle and adamantly voiced his disappointment.

"Hey now, little guy, you'll just have to get more later," Jonathan told the impatient young beast and placed the bottle on the ground next to him--which the animal proceeded to knock over, still searching for that extra bit of milk. Later evidently didn't suit him.

Later. Late. Oh no. Martha looked down at her watch. "Oh, Jonathan, I didn't realize what time it was. I'm sorry. I have to go."

He held her more snugly and made a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat, then traced his nose along the soft line of her neck. "Are you sure?" he mumbled. Joseph raised his head and mooed loudly, flipping his ears forward and back. "You see? He wants you to stay."

She grinned and leaned back into his embrace."I'd like to stay, too, but I promised my parents I'd be home for dinner tonight and it's a long drive back."

With a an unhappy sigh, he relented and helped her to her feet. "I really wish you didn't have to drive all that way alone."

"I'll be fine," she assured him. But the small wrinkle in his forehead, the one that only appeared when something worrisome was on his mind, had already begun to show. "I promise. I'll call as soon as I get home. I should go say good-bye to your mom and dad." Jonathan relaxed a little, nodded, and secured Joseph's lead rope to a post.

"He'll be okay here for a little while," he explained. Martha gave the calf one last pat before she and Jonathan started walking back toward the house.

It was funny how life worked out sometimes. Just hours before, she had walked the same path alone and for such different reasons. This time, he was there beside her. There was something inherently right about that. As though reading her thoughts, he took her hand. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too..." A small, knowing smile touched her lips--then spread to a wicked grin. "...Jon-boy."

She took off at a run, giggling madly, with Jonathan in close pursuit. "Hey! ...You come back here! Martha Clark, when I catch you...!" He would catch her when they reached the house, but by then it was exactly what she wanted.

TBC...

[VanishingPoint]

Awww, farm courtship!!! So sweet. Jonathan put his mooooves on Martha!

Seriously, this is a great story!!! Thanks!

[tinkerbelladt]

Smallvillian:: I was just surfind around and i came to this story and i have to say its absoluetly amazing! its so cute and aww i just luv reading it.. cant wait for more!

[angelfire east]

Great update!

[Smallvillian]

Thanks everyone!. I wasn't sure how people would take a story centered around Jonathan and Martha so it's great to know there's some Jonathan/Martha love out there! I really appreciate the feedback

[NorthOfNever]

Well, Smallvillian, it isn't really necessary for me to launch into yet another diatribe of how much I love the way you write the Kents, both present and past. But when do I ever toe the line of bare necessity and let myself be restrained by it? Ha! Never, at least not with words! This was so endearing and sweet, and such a nice glimpse into Martha's maternal instincts that it brings their later plight into even more poignant focus. I trust that another delightful and insightful installment will be triggering yet another parcel of praise very (yes?) soon, and most deservedly!

[Renee28]

Originally posted by VanishingPoint
Jonathan put his mooooves on Martha!

Why didn't I think of that? I'm so jealous, VanishingPoint!

And as for you, Smallvillian -- you've been giving us wonderful Jonathan stories all this time, and you're still uncertain about how they're going to be received?? I'm going to pump some self-esteem into you if it's the last thing I do. With a bicycle pump, if necessary!

[Smallvillian]

lol-- I don't know. I just don't see myself being very good at this writing business. But I'm flattered other people enjoy it. Truly

VP, that moo bit cracked me up, too.

[VanishingPoint]

Renee & Smallvillian, glad you liked the moo comment. I was afraid someone would want to throttle me for the wordplay but posted it anyway.

Smallvillian, did you research the calf information? It was interesting. Of course the main draw of the story is Martha & Jonathan's growing love and loyalty to each but I really enjoy picking up other tidbits here and there.

Please continue writing Jonathan & Martha stories. You have really captured them so perfectly that I can hear their voices when reading your writing. Thanks!!!

[Smallvillian]

Hey VP,

Yes, I have researched the information on calves, actually. For this scene and for things that come up later. Is that sad or just professional? lol

[NorthOfNever]

Hey! Research for writing is vital, even if it is fan fiction! At least I've found that to be true. Depends on the story, of course, but when you've got Google at your fingertips, why not?

[Smallvillian]

(Thanks to Renee for sticking with me through my writing slump!)

----

"Oh, Bill dear, I think you're making entirely too much of this. So she has a boyfriend. It's not as though they've announced marriage."

"Don't even joke about such a thing. God knows what they've been up to all this time, right under our noses."

Quite certain she had heard enough, Martha pushed open the door of their large study to face her mother and father, each of whom were dressed for an evening that would undoubtedly include generous gratuity and conversation that was less so. From what little she had heard during her short stint in the hallway, her father was convinced his little cherub had been corrupted by no less than Lucifer himself.

"Martha, where have you been?" he asked, his words clipped.

The sharpness in William Clark's tone was just as it had been when she was a child and had broken the crystal vase that once sat upon the mantle over the fireplace to her left. All at once, she was five again, trying to hide broken fragments under the rug.

She swallowed, her eyes focused on his, but her words were faint. "I went to see Jonathan."

"Smallville Jonathan? That Jonathan? That's where you've been all this time?" At her brief nod, he turned to her mother, threw up his hands, and pointed an accusing finger in her direction. "You see? What did I tell you? The entire thing was probably his idea, her gallivanting about the countryside--"

"I went to apologize to him. Someone needed to," she announced matter-of-factly -interrupting what was most likely to be the verbal equivalent of a mule's backside-and crossed her arms, more bold.

"Bill, what is she talking about?"

He took three steps in Martha's direction, bent forward at the waist, hands on his hips. "I don't need you to do any apologizing for me, young lady, least of all to some hayseed from Smallville, Kansas trying to get a few rungs higher in life using my daughter. And since when do you use that tone with your father?"

Martha flung her hands down and balled them into tight fists, furious. "Since my father started behaving like someone else! I'm not going to dinner," she said brusquely, not bothering to wait for a response before whirling around and marching heatedly out of the room.

---


"Hey, Jon-boy, you got that minute? I know they're hard to come by around here."

Jonathan was stooping down, fastening new hinges on the stall doors with the same screwdriver that he had used for what must have been thousands of other repairs around the Kent farm. "One or two," he replied, not paying full attention to the conversation as he continued to work.

"I wanted to talk to you about--well, about a lot of things. Um..." Hiram took a seat on the old workbench behind him, bowed his head, hands touched together at the fingertips as though in prayer. Jonathan hadn't yet looked up from his task. "Son, things aren't going so great with the farm."

Not taking notice of the gruff, troubled tone, still busily replacing old parts with new, Jonathan answered glibly, "The place has never been a cash cow, dad. No pun intended." He chuckled a bit at his own humor, but his laughter died when, finally, he looked up and caught sight of his father, hunched forward, face in his hands, looking frail and defeated under the soft light cast from an overhead lamp.

The screwdriver dropped to the ground. "Dad, what is it?"

"You're a good boy, Jonathan. I know you spend a lot of time here when you'd rather be someplace--anyplace else. I know that," Hiram repeated, as though concerned his son might not have believed it the first time, and rubbed a hand lightly over his brow. "I suppose I can't blame you-I-I just always-it was never about money. It was about looking out that kitchen window day after day and knowing that my father and I had built those fences out there together. Mama wanted a storybook house, with a pretty white fence." He drifted off into the distant memory, then shook his head. "It was about working the land. Making something in this world, instead of tearing it down or selling out to the highest bidder."

Neither father nor son would ever claim to be an authority on the other, or even remotely well-acquainted in recent years, but if there was one thing Jonathan knew about Hiram Kent, it was that this was not him. The father he knew would have come in here, rolled up his sleeves, and pitched in beside him with a word or two about the news, grades, or other things that needed to be done that day. He would have complained about the never-ending length of their bank statements and the unerring shortage of daylight hours.

But this? No. This was not his father.

Jonathan placed a hesitant hand to the man's left shoulder. "If there's something wrong..." he urged, unease rising in his chest and seeping into his belly.

Hiram turned away, looked down, then up again, facing his son. He cleared his throat with a half-laugh and dropped his hands into his lap. "Your dad's being a sentimental fool, Jonathan. I just wanted you to know that I appreciate all the long hours you've spent keeping an old man's dream afloat."

Sentiment wasn't something either normally did well. Having it thrust prominently between them like an extravagantly wrapped gift, when all you've brought to the party is a dime-store card, left the younger man groping blindly for a response. "Dad ...before, when I said I had a lot to do, I didn't mean..."

"I know you didn't." Hiram shrugged off any further conversation on the matter, got to his feet, placed a friendly arm around his son's shoulders, unsure and awkward with the gesture but genuine with its intent. "Don't you worry about this," he said, referring to the repairs. "It'll hold till tomorrow." They walked out of the barn together.

"So...Martha seems like quite a girl."

"Yes, she is," young Jonathan agreed proudly, allowing the inner child that still craved his father's approval to tiptoe out of the corner he'd been left in for so many years. The tension of earlier faded to a reverent peace that settled in the soft reflection of his eyes. "She's-" He paused thoughtfully, searching for just the right description before finally settling on "special."

"Ah. I know the feeling," the elder Kent reminisced, as they strolled along, an arm still hugged around his son's shoulders.

The sun eased its way slowly from the evening sky, taking its time as it dipped beneath the dark horizon; the Kent men were sharing something more than hellos, and it seemed as if even the heavens above were sitting up and taking notice.

TBC...

[VanishingPoint]

Yes, I agree with North, research is vital. And interesting! Anything that adds good solid blocks to the story will help build it up.

I like the Kent conversations. Seems like Hiram and Jonathan would have had many awkward conversations. It's great to hear them having a good one.

[Smallvillian]

Glad you enjoyed! I put an image on the first page to go with the story. It is actually much larger but I shrunk it down so as not to take long to load

Thanks for appreciating the research, too.