"Clark knows where home is," Martha said gently, "and it'll always be here. A mother's duty to her son's to let him find his own path, after all."

Clark couldn't help himself from walking over and leaning down to kiss her temple, one of his hands looking for hers to give a gentle squeeze.

"Don't you go makin' me maudlin, son. I was gonna put one of the pies in for dessert."

He kissed the top of her head this time as he straightened, going to his full height for a moment before bouncing back to his usual poor posture.

"I'll get it, Ma. You made us all a feast, after all. Least I can do is toss a pie in the oven."