💞Now and Forever 💞 ~ Chapter 5~The Safest Place on Earth

   BOOM!!
The noise was loud and abrupt; accompanied by a flash of lightening.  Almost in the same instant, the rain came, pelting at the window and then steadily drumming.
Startled awake by the thunder,  Hercule Poirot was, for a half second, confused by the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. And then it all became clear as he gazed down on the head of brown hair,  the expression of contentment on the face of Mrs. Virginie Poirot,  whose head rested on her husband's chest.
Bowing his head, Poirot gently kissed the crown of his wife's head;  inhaling her fragrance and basking in the blessed memory of their first night together as husband and wife while the thunder outside was becoming less threatening.  Distant rumbling.  Hercule felt himself begin to doze off when a low hum and movement found him looking into the most deliciously lovely eyes and the most angelic smile on anyone, this side of the pearly gates.
"It's still raining."  Virginie said, glancing toward the window before returning her sights back to her husband.
"Still or again, mon cher amour, I'm not certain. The thunder woke me."  He kissed her on the nose and Virginie smiled and then giggled;  drawing a heart on her husband's chest with her finger as she searched for the words that best fit what she wanted to tell him.
"Last night", she spoke in a near whisper.  "was.... joyous!  Beautiful.  I think this is what my aunt was trying to explain when she talked to me about marrying for LOVE and not position in the community or any sense of obligation".   Virginie kissed the invisible heart she drew on Hercule's chest.  I could never imagine marrying a man I didn't love, and now... I would NEVER even consider it. Not even if the King of Belgium was to call this room and tell me he would clothe me in furs and jewels for the rest of my life, if I left you for him."
"You still wouldn't go with him?"  Poirot asked,  rejoicing inwardly because he knew the answer.
Virginie Poirot, arms folded on her husband's chest,  gazed into her Hercule's  soft, vivid brown eyes.   "Why would I?  I don't know him.  I could hardly love a man I don't know.  And now amount of money and prestige is worth sharing a home with someone you don't love. What we shared was beautiful because we love each other. There aren't enough jewels in the world to create true intimacy unless genuine love already exists."
Hercule caressed his wife's face.  She took his hand and kissed each finger,  gradually becoming slower,  alive with meaning.
They made love again and celebrated the after-glow in each other's arms as the rain slowed to a patter against the windows.
"I cannot wait to see our first baby.  She will be so beautiful.  Like her Mama."
"I am certain HE will be a handsome boy, with his papa's lively chocolate brown eyes."
Virginie glanced up at her husband to see that his vivid brown eyes were closed.

~~~~

In their week-long honeymoon, Hercule and Virginie spent their days touring the town;  taking in theater and concerts,  running on the beach and eating from hot dog vendors.   Something Madame would not approve of,  strictly,  and yet, in this case, she would laugh off.
On the Friday before they had to return home,  the day was either the best or worst a honeymoon couple could hope for.  For better part of the morning and early afternoon, it was sunny enough to shop and pick up souvenirs for Madame,  Hilde,  Adelise,  Jules and Maxime.  Unfortunately,  by the time they were ready to relax at a cafe,  any hopes of sipping outside were swept away by a breeze, ushered in by dark grey clouds.
By the time their taxi pulled up in front of the Inn,  the rain was coming down in a sheet.  Even in the few feet it took to rush, from the cab to the front door,  they were soaked.
"Today, it would be a good day to be a duck!"  Hercule laughed as they waited for their key from the front desk clerk.
"A duck with an umbrella,"   Virginie added,  examining  the small canvass shopping bag she bought from the first shop they went to.  The purchase turned out to be a smart one, with all the knick knacks they collected.
In their room,  they hung their damp clothes in their  respective bathrooms,  dressed in their evening wear.  Virginie's hair was brushed to a sheen and in a braid.
"How did you do that?"  her husband asked as they ate at their little meal table by a window.  By now, the rain was slowing and what remained of  daylight hours was struggling for a brief re-appearance.
"Do what?"  Virginie inquired as she cut into her veal and plunged it into her potatoes.  She had done so much that would not be permitted at Madame's table.  Ladylike civility would re-assert itself when they were on the train ride home.
"Your hair, it is in the braid.  How can you do that when you cannot see what you are doing?"
"Does it look okay?"   She reached one hand to touch her hair and then stopped short.
"It is beautiful,  my love. As are you."    Poirot cut a piece of his veal and likewise plunged it into the mashed potatoes before bringing the food to his mouth.  Virginie held her water glass but put it down before bursting into giggles at the sight of her husband's boyish mannerism.  Before this time,  he's been so much the...proper gentleman, and she loved him for it.  This was something different, though.  They were real to each other.  Truly real.  All they would ever learn about each over over the years, good and bad;  joys and frustrations,  all of that had its beginning with their first night at this Inn.
"I don't want this to end,"  Hercule confided.
"Nor do I.  If I weren't wondering about how Madame was doing, I wouldn't want to leave."
"There is one thing, though,  dear wife, that we need to remember?"   Hercule  said, feeding his wife from his fork.  "And that is,  we will only be leaving this place. Not each other."   He then dabbed her lips and she giggled.
"That is true."
Dessert was Raspberry crumble a la mode which they took turns feeding each other until they were kissing ice cream off each other's noses until the kisses left their noses and found their way to each other's mouths.
The last night of their honeymoon was spent as the first,  minus the nerves.  How could anyone be nervous or anxious about sharing something so deeply natural and beautiful between a man and woman.  In the after-glow of their pleasure,  they talked over future plans and hopes as the thunder rumbled and the rain pattered against the window.
"I knew you would keep me safe,"  Virginie declared, gazing up at her husband while her head rested on his chest.
"ALWAYS,  mon cher amour,"  Hercule assured the woman he loved.  And he meant it. From the day they declared their "I do's"  to the congregation of family and friends, Hercule Poirot could not imagine that he ever had a life before Virginie and he didn't even want to think of a life without her.