Ella came downstairs in the morning to find coffee already brewed. Smiling, she stood in the kitchen watching the sunrise over the Kansas fields. Here at the Kent farm, she’d found beauty and tranquility that Metropolis could never offer. It was so peaceful here in the dimness, watching and listening as the world woke up.
The kitchen door opened and closed, reminding her that some parts of the world were already awake and going about their business, which is why she had coffee waiting on her. Ella smiled; only Martha Kent got up earlier than she did. Lois, Clark, and their children were all still in bed at this hour, though Clark would soon be off on his rounds.
“Good morning,” Martha said. Her smile said all the things she couldn’t speak. It was lucky for both of them that their children had fallen in love, gotten married, and had children of their own, even if they hadn’t done those things in the accepted order. The two widows had found in each other kindred spirits. Neither of them had had someone they could trust completely, not since their husbands passed. And neither of them had ever really had anyone to whom they could confess their deepest fears for their often troublesome offspring.
Ella handed Martha the cup of coffee she’d poured for her, already sweetened and doctored with creamer exactly the way Martha would have done herself. “It’s always a good morning when I’m here,” Ella said quietly.
Martha grinned back, her blue eyes twinkling. “And your daughter thinks you only come here to be with the grandkids.”