"Let's invite Adelise!" Virginie declared, finishing off her second helping of French toast. "I'm sure Hercule will call her as soon as he gets to the police station. He just about ran up the stairs to tell you. Heavens, his mind was in a complete jumble throughout breakfast. Not that my mind is much better. I've had a few days to get used to it and I'm not fully adjusted yet. I'm high as a kite with joy and scared to death at the same time. Does that make any sense?"
Chuckling, Hilde nodded, "Oh yes! All kinds of sense, my girl. I was the same with my first. Just about drove poor Cyrl bonkers . Every twinge and muscle spasm, I was sure I was in labor." She finished her French Toast and headed for the kitchen to clean her dishes, with Virginie behind her; dishes in hand.
In the kitchen, Hilde insisted Viriginie sat at the small kitchen table but the mom-to-be balked. "Drying dishes won't wear me out. And I promise I'll go up and take a nap after we finish, if that's okay?"
"Quite alright! I need to get off my backside and stop moanin' about my rheumatism. I've had it for years." Waiting for the soapy water to fill the sink, Hilde comforted the young mother-to-be. "Not to worry. sweetie. It's new mother anxiety. That'll blow over and you'll settle down. You have seven months yet. Relax."
Accepting a plate to dry, Virginie giggled off a spate of nerves. "I'll try."
~~~~
By the weekend, Virginie's initial anxieties were all but forgotten in a busy but productive Saturday of shopping for baby clothes with her sister-in-law Adelise and Hilde. A week later, Poirot returned home to find his wife staring at the room of her late aunt; now deceased for almost half a year."Virginie love?"
"Hercule. Hello. How was your day?"
"It was...a day. Thankfully uneventful. How about you? What are you doing?"
Virginie shrugged, "Remembering. I'm thinking we may have to store or sell some of the furniture to get the baby's room ready, but I'm not sure I can...or want to part with many of Madame's things. Silly, aren't I?"
Wrapping his arms protectively around his wife's waist, Hercule assured her, "It is good for you to want to remember. And you do not have to give away all of it. Perhaps we can use for the baby's things, madame's dresser. She would be very happy to donate her furniture for such a happy cause. Then again, love, others may have need of the bed. Madame Deroulard, she was a good woman who believed in giving help to others who were in need. Think of it as honoring one who gave to you so much."
Virginie's husband gently lifted her chin, meeting her gaze to meet his. "Think of this, dear heart, when our little boy or girl gets to be old enough, we can tell the little one of his good gran. You have the photographs?"
"Books full," Virginie conceded, coming out of her melancholy.
"And those are the memories we will share with our child."
By the end of March, with the exception of the dresser they kept, the rest of the futniture and much of the old fashioned bedding was given to the Ladies Auxiliary of their church, to give to whoever might need it. Madame's patchwork quilt stayed in the house.
With the help of Adelise and Hilde, who was feeling a whole lot better with the end of the deep winter damp, the room was cleaned. A painter was hired to give the room a brand new appearance. Soft pink walls with the lightest blue ceiling. As a surprise, the painter added a smiling moon and stars. A week later, the basinet, crib, change table were added, along with a rocker for one corner of the room. The curtains, like the baby bedding, was a baby Noah's Ark theme with little animals, two by two, getting onto the big boat as the clouds gathered.
That same night, Virginie stood at the door of the room, taking in the new look; imagining.
Wrapping his arms around his wife's waist; holding onto her hands, that covered the baby's sanctuary, Hercule whispered in Virginie's ear, "You are happy, Mama Poirot?"
There was a smile in her voice, "I am. Just can't wait for the baby to see."
"I cannot wait to see the baby."
~~~~~
By mid-Spring, Virginie was four months along and already as tired as a woman in mid-term. She'd gained weight, as was normal, and even her doctor didn't see anything wrong with her fatigue. He was, however, hard pressed to explain this to an anxious Monsieur Poirot, who fretted like the proverbial 'mother chicken' and insisted on accompanying his wife on her next doctor's visit."I'm sorry about this, doctor. " Virginie apologized as she dressed back in her clothes, following the exam. "God love him, I adore Hercule. He's a good man and he'll be a wonderful dad, abut he's driving me crazy with all the fussing. Even his sister has told him to settle down, to no avail, and she has three children. Could you please talk to him. Tell him it's okay for me to walk. or climb stairs. Not that I do it ten times a day."
"My dear, you're preaching to the Choir master. For all my medical training, I did the same thing with my wife when she was expecting our first baby. She argued that I would have wrapped her up in cotton if I could."
"Don't give Hercule any ideas."
Chuckling, the physician tore a page off his prescription pad and handed it to his patient. "It's an iron tonic. Nothing drastic. The baby's taking all your energy. You have a growing child in there and he's a bit greedy. So I am giving you permission, Madame Poirot, to eat a bit extra. If you like mashed potatoes with dinner, indulge a bit more. A BIT mind. Don't steal from your husband. And YES, get all the sleep you can NOW. Because newborns keep very erratic sleep schedules. Walks are good, when you have the energy, but don't over exert."
"Kindly tell that to my husband, He thinks a walk from the front room to the kitchen is a marathon."
"I will try, Virginie, dear, but I make NO promises."
Sitting in the doctor's office, Virginie listened to the exchange between her husband and her doctor with a mixture of mild embarrassment, some annoyance but deeper love and understanding than she had when they entered the office.
Both Hercule and her doctor loved their wives and fussed over them out of love and concern of what they didn't fully comprehend. Even her doctor confessed to being not utterly certain of all of nature's miracles.
"Monsieur Poirot, has your wife expressed any desire to run a marathon?"
Poirot glanced, nearly panicked, at Virginie, who only shook her head. "No."
"Glad to hear it." The doctor replied with a smile in his voice as well as on his lips. " Monsieur Poirot, you are married to a sensible woman."
Poirot could hardly argue. "Oui. I know this, but..."
The doctor cut in. "This is also your first child so she is as nervous as you are. MORE so since She is carrying the baby. I assure you, Monsieur, that unless Virginie plans a walking tour across Europe, you have NO need to worry. Her body will tell her when she needs to rest and she has been obedient to that call. You need to trust your wife with the care of her body and your child. She loves you both and would not do anything to endanger either her health or the child's. Is that correct, Virginie?"
"Very much so." She addressed her husband rather than her doctor.
Poirot nodded, repentant. "Adelise, she has been trying to make me understand. And then her husband, he would tell me stories about how HE fretted, as I do."
"She told me the same story," Virginie agreed, taking her husband's hand, "but you and your brother-in-law need to remember something, dearest husband. Women have been having children since Adam and Eve, and they had neither a hospital to go to or a doctor to consult. I have both. Most importantly, I have a good home, good food and a husband who loves me. If all of those factors are guarantees of a healthy nine months and a safe journey through life, this baby," she patted the slight bump where the baby began to 'show' "might as well be born under a lucky star and a written surety from the Lord God Almighty, Himself. Life, however, does not give any such assurance. All we can do is our best. For my part," Virginie vowed, almost forgetting the presence of her obstetrician, " I promise no marathon runs or cross-continent walks. I will eat when I'm hungry and rest when I'm tired. That's all I can do."
Poirot nodded in agreement. "Can you forgive me for such....fuss?"
"Rather than forgive you, I love you for it. But you'll do yourself more good by relaxing now. You'll have enough to fret over when the baby is keeping us awake after midnight."
~~~~
And so he did try. Not always successful but Poirot did make every effort not to worry over every movement Virginie made, or offer to do what job she would do otherwise. In some endeavors, he simply wasn't able. Especially as his wife's pregnancy advanced and her trips to the washroom became more frequent. A 'malady' the doctor assured, which was quite common in expectant mothers.With that commonality, another custom began . Starting with mid May, Hercule's sister, Adelise spent the weekend while her sister-in-law and brother Jules took the kids to the lake. The kids enjoyed getting out of the city and Adelise treasured the adult conversation and company of other women. For his part, Hercule felt that much more secure, knowing that his wife had additional companionship if he had to work.
In all honesty, Poirot was still anxious about what he believed to be the 'fragility' of his wife's condition. To where he just about bite his tongue off to prevent himself from asking Virginie how much walking she did on a given day. And, unless his wife specifically requested, he all but nailed his feet to the floor to keep himself from doing a job Virginie felt capable of doing herself. With Adelise visiting at least one weekend a month, he felt a measure more relaxed. Still, Virginie could tell....
~~~~
"My dear, anxiety wracked husband," Virginie Poirot rested her head on her husband's chest in bed. "I love you for your concern. But you can't protect me from every little nick and trip. Women have been having babies since the beginning of time. We're are a lot stronger than you give us credit for."Caressing her right check, Poirot smiled at his beloved wife. "My dearest Virginie, it is not all the women in the world I am anxious for , it is you. Nor is it all the unborn children of the world I concern myself with, but our child." Hercule kissed her on the nose. "All the same, I repent of my ....anxieties." He shrugged by way of apology. " As you and the good physician, you have both told me that you you are careful. But I cannot keep you from getting the exercise that is important. And you have kept the promise NOT to run the marathons."
"Well," Virginie said, with a smirk on her lips. "There was this excurs...."
"No," Poirot shook his head, even knowing his wife was teasing. "But I am thankful that you have consented to let Adelise stay with us. I assure you, dearest, it was not my idea. In fact, I believe Ada, she she is trying to keep me from making you crazy."
"When we were decorating the baby's room, Ada mentioned this might happen because she had the same problem with her husband when they were expecting their first child." Virginie kissed her and tapped her husband's nose. "My love, as I said in the doctor's office, you're going to have to trust that at least God knows how this works or you will fret your way into a heart attack before the baby's born."
Again he conceded. "I do not want to do that. However, with all I know, there is one thing that will always bother me. The mystery. And life, with all its intricacies is a mystery that even the great Sherlock Holmes could not make complete sense of. That much less for a real life detective and police officer. And so, dearest, I have to do as you say, and trust the One who knows all of life's mysteries because He created them. Let Go. Let God. You love our child, and the good Lord, He loves both of you. With that, I will have to content and remind myself. And so I shall. Is that fair? Virginie?"
But Virginie Poirot was sound asleep.
~~~~
When Virginie awakened the next morning, her husband was already gone. On his pillow was a short note; 💕"Sleep, dearest . We will eat dinner together. Love, Hercule " 💕Checking the clock, she saw that it was after nine. As quickly as she rebuked herself for sleeping in, Virginie chastised herself for feeling guilty; remembering her doctor's counsel about how her body would tell her when she needed more sleep. Going to the foot of the bed, she reached for her robe and put it on as she headed downstairs for breakfast.
~~~~
In an auditorium, twenty officers, including Hercule Poirot sat in chairs on graduating levels, from a ground platform. In the middle of that bottom floor, the Chief of Police instructed his officers on the latest in investigative and arresting procedures, in light of what he'd called, 'shoddy' performance that lead to lawyers' and suspended arrests of those who may well have been guilty. It was just after lunch and Poirot thought the idea of sitting and listening to a lecture would be more relaxing than having to take to the street for patrols. Had he known the police chief was going to be in such a testy mood, he would have preferred patrols with"The officers, whose slip-shod behavior has shamed the police, have been suspended for a time. All of you here know your work or you wouldn't be here. I cannot recommend stron..." The Police chief was stopped in mid lecture by a knock at the side door of the auditorium. There was a murmur of voices as the officer went to open the door. A minute later, if that, the P.C. returned, "Officer Hercule Poirot, please step out quickly and speak to Constable Cassidine. Seems there's been a phone call and your presence is needed."
Poirot's heart just about stopped. Quickly, he exited the lecture hall by door at the top of the auditorium. By the time he left the auditorium, the officer who'd spoken to the Chief of Police met him. "Officer . Poirot, I've been given permission to drive you to hospital. "
Poirot's voice was choked with terror but he found it in time to issue instructions to his colleague. "Oh, mon Dieu! Please, then, Officer Cassidine, let us make all speed. Sirens at their top volume!"
~~~
However many minutes it took to arrive at London Municipal Hospital, each second of that time felt like an eternity and Poirot's imagination was racing through dark emotional corridors."Did the caller say what was the nature of the emergency?" Poirot asked in a tone that almost pleaded to be told that it wasn't the drama he was making it out to be.
"No, sir. The voice was a woman. She beg...no, demanded that I make sure you get to the hospital!" Poirot's colleague informed him. "She didn't give any specifics, but she was upset about something."
"Then please, Officer Cassidine, move with all speed!"
"I'm going as fast as I can without getting us both killed." Cassideine said as he drove like a man possessed, with the siren sounding.
At long last, when they finally arrived at the hospital, Poirot was out of the car when it was hardly stopped. "Thank you Officer Cassidine. Please let the Police Chief know I will not be in for the rest of the day!" Poirot called when he was at the top of the stairs before the front door of the hospital. Before Officer Cassidine could reply, Poirot was in the hospital and at the front desk, insisting on being told what room Mrs. Virginie Poirot was in.
"Mrs Poirot is in the theater, sir."
"Theater?"
"Operating theater, sir. She was..."
"Hercule!" A voice shouted from down one corridor. A voice he immediately recognized.
"Hilde!" The siblings met in the middle of the right corridor and the dear woman immediately poured out the story through sobs.
"Let us sit down." Poirot recommended, in hopes that sitting would settle Hilde and keep his own knees from shaking. Hilde lead them to the waiting area where Adelise sat, stock still with a linen handkerchief balled up in one hand as she quietly recited her Rosary in the other.
Upon seeing her brother, Adelise just about threw herself at him, crying on his shoulder and pleading his forgiveness, even as she insisted that Virginie was utterly innocent of any wrong that lead to the accident. By now, Hilde pulled herself together enough to be coherent. Adelise was another matter.
"Calm down, my sister, please! Tell to me what happened."
"We ..w-w-we .... we had breakfast and then did some work on...on the baby things. The ....b-blanket she wanted t-t--t-to finish. Then Virginie wanted to go out for a walk. She seemed ...res...restless. Uncomfortable. I made nothing of it because...well...I know what that felt like. She did not complain. She..she...she joked that you would have calked the doctor. We walked for ...five minutes and then she ....she began to complain of pain, so we turned around and returned to the house. Hercule, I ..I ..SWEAR to you, before the Holy Mother and every saint around the throne, we did not do anything arduous. We took a stroll, talked about her concerns over ...."
Adelise stopped and took a steadying breath. "Virginie, she is just like I was when my first little one was on the way. Puzzling over everything from baby formula to how soft the blanket would be. And we took our time. She even teased, saying, "If we had snails, they'd be moving faster than I am." We were maybe a few feet from the steps when she doubled over and screamed in agony. When the ambulance came to see to her, and took her away on a stretcher, there was.... blood on the sidewalk."
"Blood?" Poirot murmured, paling. Bowing his head into his folded hands, Poirot gave voice to a three word phrase which he repeated five times at least; "Please God, no!" Not that he was counting.
"Do not blame Virginie, Hercule! She was as careful as anyone could be." Hilde reiterated his sister's assurance.
"No. No, Virginie, she is not to blame!" Poirot said in a whisper. "Just last night, she repeated to me the importance in trusting in God, who created all life. Mine, hers and the child ...the child I pray she still carries."
"Would you like some coffee, Hercule? There is a luncheonette counter on the third floor."
"No," Poirot indicated more by a shake of the head than anything Adelise could hear. I will wait and I will...pray."
The first eternity it took, to get from the police station to the hospital was superseded by the interminable period it took for the doctor to finally arrive. But the clacking of heels on the shiny hospital floor brought Poirot out of a state of prayerful meditation which could have been deep mourning. He was unsure of what to think. His mind conjured up worse case scenarios that even his prayers could not keep at bay. So when he heard something other than his own hoarse pleas, Hercule quickly wiped his eyes and stood up.
"Doctor Jackson." Poirot said, doing his bed to keep calm. He was relieved to be speaking to his wife's personal physician. He introduced the doctor to his sister and Hilde.
"How is Virginie, doctor?" All three asked almost in unison.
The doctor didn't answer straight off . Instead, he directed Adelise, Hilde and Poirot to sit down before he took a seat in the chair across from them. "Virginie is resting. Or, at least I hope so. I'm going to allow you to see her as soon as I've let you know...."
"Know? Know what?"
"I'm afraid, Monsieur Poirot, ...we could not save the baby..."
"Dear Lord!" Adelise made the sign of the cross, Hilde began to weep into her hanky as Poirot bowed his head.
"I need you to understand, Monsieur Poirot , that Virgine has done NOTHING wrong. She has kept to a good diet, exercised in moderation and rested. Sadly, as it is, sometime first pregnancies end in miscarriage. The chemical and physiological changes caused by pregnancy can throw the body out of kilter. Not all the time, and not with all women. It's almost impossible to predict, even within families. So please do not hold Virginie resp..."
"I would NEVER do that!" Poirot snapped, apologizing immediately after.
"I understand. And if it's any consolation, this tragedy will not impede future pregnancies."
"I realize this may sound like a cruel question, doctor, " Adelise spoke up. "But was the baby a boy or ..."
"The child was a boy. Do you wish to make funeral preparations?"
"Does the hospital have a priest? Maybe the child can be baptized."
"Pardon?"
"I don't want to think of the child wandering through eternity. He needs to be baptized."
The doctor glanced at Hercule who only shook his head. and cleared his throat of the tears. "The child, he is in heaven." In the next breath he requested, "May I see my wife?"
The doctor nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something else, but he stopped himself. A grieving husband did not need to know the specifics of post-operative miscarriage procedures. Instead, he stood up and lead Hercule and the women to the second floor. At the front desk, the doctor inquired what room Mrs. Poirot was in. The nurse replied, "Room 210 doctor."
The doctor walked the silent procession to room 210 and opened the door. The room was mostly quiet but for the sniffles. "Mrs. Poirot?"
"Hercule?" Virgine opened her eyes and turned her head to face the door. Her eyes were red from crying. "Is my husband here, doctor?"
"He's right outside the door."
"Please let him in." she pleaded.
The doctor was going to say something but decided against it. Now was not the time to be debating visiting schedules.
Closing the door, Dr. Jackson informed Poirot that his wife wanted to see him. "One at a time, please. She's too tired for too many people at one time."
"Merci, Doctor Jackson. I will give Virginie her rest." Poirot's voice was just audible enough to be heard. Turning to Hilde and his sister, he said. "I will try to give you time to see her, but I need..."
"Go to her," was Adelise's firm counsel. "You are the one your wife needs. We can wait."
"Give her our love." Hilde requested.
"I will. Thank you."
"I'll leave you then," the doctor saw himself off. "Again, I am sorry for your loss. I'm sorry I couldn't save the child."
"You saved my wife. That is enough."
Dr. Jackson nodded and walked away, leaving Hilde and Adelise to wait outside the hospital room door as Hercule went in to see his wife.
Inside the room, but right at the door, Poirot saw the woman he loved. This morning looking to be the very picture of health. Now, weak, pale and weeping, even in her light sleep.
Approaching the bed as quietly as he could, he slowly sat down on the side of the bed. Upon feeling the slight motion, Virginie's eyes opened. "Hercule?" she asked, feeling foggy with the sedative she'd been given.
"Yes." He reached a hand to hold his wife's hand, only to find himself on the receiving end of a fierce hug, like someone who was terrified of being let go. Her sobs were so deep and wrenching Poirot feared she'd never be able to stop. Her words came in a stream of apologies and pleas of "WHY?!" Which she asked over and over and over again.
"Sssshhhh!" Hercule soothed or attempted to, though tears choked his voice.
Eventually, Virginie settled back on her pillow and her husband gave her his handkerchief.
"I don...don't understand, Hercule. WHY? I promise, I have been careful."
"Hilde and Adelise, and Doctor Jackson, they have told me. You teased about running the races, but you have been careful. Even more fussy than I. Mon Cher de cour, I do not know." He sniffled and uncharacteristically wiped tears from his cheeks with the palm of his hand until Virginie gave his hanky back. "The doctor, he explained that ...." Poirot stopped in mid sentence.
"Hercule?" Virginie puzzled. "What did the doctor say?"
"He said that ...." Poirot stopped, recalling the doctor's words and finished what he had to say. "it happens. Sometimes the body, it is not ready." The words came slow. Mechanical. He weighed each word to make sure what he said made ...as much sense as he could make of such a tragedy. "It was no one's fault."
"And you don't blame me?"
Poirot took his wife's right hand and kissed the wedding ring. The ring that was his mother's . That good woman had suffered a loss once. And yet, how many times had Hercule, in his capacity as a police officer, been to homes where there was drinking, cursing, disarray in the homes with children. WHY were such ...FOOLISH, careless people allowed to bring children into the world when he and Virginie had their hearts ripped out through the loss of a child they'd longed to meet and hold and love.
"Hilde and Adelise, they are in the hall, waiting to see you." Poirot told his wife; remembering his sister and Hilde were in the hall and had, no doubt been at the hospital for a while before he got there.
Virginie shook her head. "I don't think I can..."
"Virgine, love, they have been waiting for some time. I will ask that they not stay long. They just want to see you. Let you know that they hurt for you. I will instruct them to stay only a minute or so. Not long."
After a brief hesitation, Virginie told what she did remember. "Adelise was in a panic. I kept hearing the word 'ambulance', though I don't recall much else of what happened."
"Adelise, she admitted to shouting it to the neighborhood. She was surprised ten ambulances didn't show up."
The briefest smile found its way onto Virginie's lips. More at how her husband told the story then what it involved. She conceded, "Let them come in. After they leave, will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"
"Bien sûr! Of course, my love."
Going to the door, of the hospital room, Hercule permitted his sister and Hilde to see Virginie while he waited in the hall. There was sure to be ...women's talk that they would feel uncomfortable with, if he was in the room.
In the waiting area, Hercule could not sit still. He tried praying but his mind wouldn't focus. Finally, after wandering up and down the long hall of the hospital floor, he returned to the waiting area and walked over to a window. It was raining out. The drops hit the window in a steady tap, tap tap. Sheeting and then breaking up. The sky was a dark grey with clouds that looked so thick it didn't appear that they could be broken up. Precisely how he felt right then. And, no doubt, how Virginie felt.
"Je comprend pas! I do NOT understand this, Mon Dieu! WHY? The doctor, he explained the medical reason, but millions of women have children without this grief to bear!
I want to say I understand, but I do not! If You know all things, God, then You know how happy we were. When she told me....when I guessed what the little knitted things were for... I was.... BEYOND happy! Virginie, she was still mourning the loss of her dear aunt. She needed some happiness. A baby. OUR child!
For all the people I see, for whom children, they are a burden, these people have children when it would be a blessing to the children NOT to be born into those homes! Virginie would have been a wonderful mother! Her heart, it is broken and even when I tell her that I KNOW she was not at fault...she is afraid that I blame her. But I do NOT. Right now, I want to blame You. And yet, ....I do not know what to think! I am so hurt...I feel like I don't know if I can trust You anymore and yet I want to.
Let me know , let Virginie know that we can trust you in the middle of this..."
"Hercule?" A voice brought him out of his thoughts. Hilde.
"Who are you talking to?"
"Talking? Was I speaking out loud?"
"And rather loudly. Adelise had to tell the nurse you weren't yelling at anyone. "
"But I was," Poirot admitted. "I was yelling ...at God."
He'd expected a harsh rebuke but it didn't happen. Instead, the family friend only nodded. "I know how you feel. I'll be scribbling furiously in my diary tonight. Virginie was SO much looking forward to seeing that child. All the worse for her, that the child was a boy. A little you. Please tell me that you do not blame her for..."
"No, Hilde, I do not. At the moment, I am trying to make sense of something that makes no sense. I am demanding of God ANSWERS for this. I don't suppose He owes me any explanation, but ..."
"Don't try to make sense out of it now. You'll never sleep again and you need some rest. Go on. Go be with your wife. Adelise and I will wait..."
"No. Do not wait. I'm going to stay with Virginie til she falls asleep. Then I shall call a taxi."
"I can wait..."
"I will not let you, dear Hilde. You need your rest as well. As does Adelise. You have been through a traumatic day. I thank you and Adelise for all you've done and tried to do. You understand Virginie's heart ache in a way that perhaps even I cannot comprehend."
"And I will not understand how you feel. Virginie is like a daughter to me. Or at least a close niece. And, as women, I feel her hurt right now. But then, Hercule, you are like a son-in-law to me. A good one. I remember Paul Deroulard. He was a handful, and then some. Put poor Madame's heart through the wringer. So when you came along, ...and with all you've done for her, and for Virginie, I am as sure as I am, of my own name, that she waited til you two were married and she knew Virginie was honestly happy that she let go of her life ; knowing that her niece was in safe hands."
"How safe? I could not prevent...!" Poirot turned to the window. The rain was still tapping the window, but not as fiercely.
"But you and your wife will come through this dark time together. Then, eventually, ..."
"I cannot think about that now. It hurts all the more."
Poirot felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and patted it. "I'm sorry," Hilde apologized. "Now you go to your wife and I'll drive me and your sister home. But if you want a drive home, don't hesitate to call."
Poirot managed a brief, thankful smile. "Merci beaucoup, dear friend. I will remember to call."
Poirot accepted a hug from his sister, along with a reiteration of the same invitation; that he should call if he needed a ride home. Again, he replied that he would call if he needed a ride. "Virginie, she needs me right now. How can I go home and try to sleep, knowing her pain. She would think I didn't love her after all. I could not bear her thinking that."
"Then you should stay with her for a bit. At least until she falls asleep. Let your face be the last thing she sees and she will rest easier."
"I hope."
When his sister and Hilde left, Poirot returned to see his wife, who was sleeping fitfully.
"Ssshhh..." he soothed her, taking one her hand in both of his. "I am here, love. Rest."
"You..you didn't leave," Virginie cleared her throat and Hercule poured her a glass of water from a steel pitcher on the bedside table and lifted her head so she could drink. She took a few sips and rested her head back on the pillow. "Tired, Hercule. I want to wake up in our bed and forget this nightmare."
"My love, I wish so much the same." Poirot said, taking a sip of the water before putting the glass on the bedside table. His throat ached, but it had nothing to do with thirst.
"The doctor said...."
"I know. He told me the same," Hercule anticipated his wife's statement. "I cannot even think of it, just now. You rest. Tomorrow, we will deal with ...other matters."
"You will stay until I fall asleep?"
"Or until you tell me to leave."
Virginie shook her head. "No. That will never happen. I need you here."
"Then I will not leave."
For a few minutes, there was silence before Virginie spoke again, through tears that could be heard in her voice and seen in her eyes. "Micheal Louie."
"Pardon?"
"Our son's name. We will have his name on a little memorial marker. Please, Hercule."
Poirot nodded his agreement. "Of course. "
Within minutes of asking for that promise, Virginie was asleep.
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