All three helped with dinner; peeling the potatoes, preparing the stuffing, and getting the goose ready for the oven.
Sighing as her husband slide the roaster into the oven, Virginie wondered, "Turkeys aren't as cute as geese, are they?"
"Pardon?" Hilde asked as she wiped off the preparation table.
Virginie giggled at the statement she'd just made. "Americans are lucky. They have turkey for Christmas and their Thanksgiving. I'd have no conflict about that. But geese are cute."
"They also make an unholy racket with their united honking. Not to mention a terrible mess along country roads, near to lakes and rivers. So don't cry into the gravy over it."
And she didn't. Before digging in, Hilde invited Hercule to say the blessing over the feast.
"It would be an honor. Merci Beaucoup. So, let us all join hands."
They did. All heads bowed.
Hercule prayed, "Dear Father in heaven, thank You so much for the blessing of this day, which reminds us of the day that gave hope to humanity. And for the blessing of my new family. For that, I cannot begin to thank You enough. But even in our joy and enjoyment, we remember our loss. Look after Madame Deroulard , although I wonder if she is already re-organizing the very halls of heaven."
Chuckles from Virginie and Hilde.
Bless this feast and this evening. In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen."
"Amen", the women repeated.
Over dinner, there was laughter over reminiscences. Dessert was not the traditional Christmas pudding, but a home made apple pie, with ice cream.
"I do hope you aren't too disappointed in not having the plum pudding. In the back of my mind, I kept meaning to get at it. But with shopping and a dozen..."
"Hilde, you have not one thing to feel guilty about!" Hercule chastised with a smile. "Examine this table, filled almost to the point of collapse, with so much delicious food, hmm? Next year, we will have the plum pudding, but the apple pie with ice cream is hardly the disappointment most tragic."
"Amen!" Virginie agreed. "After everything is cleared up, I'd like to take a long brisk walk to burn off all these calories."
"How far will we need to walk?" Poirot inquired.
"How about...Brussles?"
They didn't walk around the entire city, but once the table was cleared and the dishes were done, Hilde went up for a bath and Hercule and Virginie bundled up for a walk. The snow had stopped and the stars could be seen through the clouds that were thinning out and dispersing. It was chilly but not bitterly cold. After a couple of blocks around, hand in hand, Virginie bent down and picked up a hand full of snow. Failing at being able to build a snowball, she faced her husband and blew a hand full of snow at him.
"Of course you know I will avenge this most frosty humiliation." Picking up a mound of snow Hercule blew it back at his wife, who shrieked with girlish delight.
"That's cold!" she laughed, grabbing another mound of snow. By the time she was able to get enough to stick together, Poirot was down the block. She caught up and chucked the snow; missing her mark. JUST.
By the time they got back to the house, their faces and coats were soaked in melted snow, which felt glued to their faces with the cold. But they were too busy laughing to feel the sting.
Out of their wet, winter-wear, Hercule and Virginie walked into the front room to find Hilde, new book with its front and back cover face up, in her lap. She was decked out in the Christmas gifts they'd bought her together. Flannel night gown with lace collar, patchwork robe and fuzzy slippers, which kept her feet warm, even as they rested on the hassock. She hummed contentedly as her head rested against one side of the high-backed easy chair.
"I almost don't want to wake her." Virigine said, smiling down at her longtime friend, and second aunt to her.
"You don't have to," Hilde replied, eyes still closed. "I'm just dozing."
Taking her slippered feet down from the hassock, one at a time, Hilde stretched and glanced up at the couple. "You two look chilled. "Would you like me to fix up some cocoa?"
The three drank hot chocolate at the small kitchen table and then put out the lights and headed up to bed. With goodnight hugs to part them, Hilde headed to her room at one end of the hall, and Poirot and Virginie at the other end of the hall.
~~~~
The high festivity of Christmas and New years gave way to January duldrums. Hercule was back on a normal shift with his friends back from holidays trips."I can hardly complain," he said over a late dinner with his wife. "I put a few officers to extra shifts last year. Now, it's my turn. Fair, it's fair."
"True." Virginie replied, eating a small plate of the shepherd's pie she'd prepared for her husband.
"Virginie?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you have a secret?"
"What makes you think that?"
"You are smiling at me."
"Am I?" Virginie shrugged, nonchalant and non-committal about her reasons for sitting and smiling at her husband with such...girlish devotion. "Why shouldn't I be? I just...like looking at you. And I miss you when you're at work. That's why I make sure to keep busy during my day so that goes faster, and you can be with me again, that much sooner."
What could he say? The answer sounded honest, and Poirot was at the place where he was....reasonably certain he could tell when his wife wasn't entirely honest about something, though that wasn't often. Still, there was ....something Virginie was keeping from him.
~~~~
By about mid January, the snow had already melted. February was in an almost constant state of damp. If it wasn't the rain, the fog could just about be felt.Hilde got up early for a soak in a hot bath before helping with breakfast and would retire early evenings with her hot water bottle. No mater how many baths the poor woman took, she always smelled of liniment because that, and her doctor's prescription were the closest thing to relief from the Rheumatism that left her feeling stiff and achy For Poirot, the weather was deeply dreary and he confessed to wanting to just pull the comforter over his head and sleep until March.
Virginie, on the other hand, had no complaints. Even in the middle of the month, where the dull grey and damp made just about everyone else listless, she was up early, preparing a special breakfast for her husband, who awoke to a card on his wife's pillow, along with a single chocolate cherry on a little paper doilie.
When he arrived downstairs for breakfast, he was greeted to the sight of the dining room set for the two of them. Virginie brought out the breakfast of French Toast, covered with a center swirl of whipped cream and a strawberry on top. As soon as they were seated, Poirot took a package out of his uniform pocket. "I had to hide this under, literally, the lock and key. I knew you were looking. Happy Valentine's Day, my love."
From her apron pouch, Virginie took out a small package wrapped in pink tissue paper and tied with a blue ribbon.
Opening her gift first, she took out a heart shaped locket. Inside, were two very tiny pictures of them. "Two hearts that have come together H&V Poirot.
"It's beautiful, Hercule! Thank you." Virginie slipped the chain of the locket over her head and the heart sat just above the swell of her boosom .
They exchanged a quick but meaningful kiss. "Now open yours. I finished them as soon as I knew."
"Knew?" Poirot puzzled. "Know what?"
"Open it and see."
Untying the ribbon, Hercule unwrapped the tissue paper to reveal a tiny pair of bootties, connected with thin silk ribbons.
It took a moment for the light to dawn. Bless him, of all the crimes Poirot had investigated, he was not as sharp when it came to solving a clue that was so easy.
"Virginie? Does this mean what...?"
She nodded, beaming with a joy that shone out of her eyes . "I found out yesterday and I just about bit my tongue off to keep from telling you before now. "
"Oh, mon Dieu!" Poirot set the booties on the table, narrowly missing the French Toast. Hugging his wife, they exchanged another kiss. Longer. "Oh, my, no! You ..you must sit. Sit and eat. You are eating for the two of you! Where is Hilde? I must tell her!"
"She's in bed. Her arthritis is still bothering her. I'll tell her when she comes down. Or I'll bring..."
Poirot shook his head with finality. "No. Hilde, she is well enough. I will go up and tell her or she will come down when she feels better. You are not to be running up and down the stairs. You have the little one to think of. "
"Hercule, I am allowed to walk. The doctor recommended light exercise and fresh air each day, along with a protein rich-diet". Virginie informed her husband as she cut into the French Toast and dabbed it into the syrup that circled the three-tier layer.
"But ...why did you not tell me?"
Taking a sip of her orange juice, Poirot's wife replied, "If it had been any earlier, I would have. As it was, I ....kind of suspected since around the middle of last month, but I didn't want to get your hopes up, or mine, just in case I turned out to be wrong. Then I noticed the same...," Virginie paused to make certain she phrased the matter discreetly. "situation this month as last, so I made an appointment with my doctor. I got a call from him about an hour after you left for work, yesterday. "
If it wasn't for the simple reality of hunger, Poirot wouldn't have been able to eat. He was too excited. Euphoric. "When is the baby due?"
"About October. I'm two months along now, which means little Hercule was conceived on or around Christmas holidays. But Dr. Brett said babies have their own time tables, within reason."
Poirot's eyes shone with joy. "Little Hercule, or, perhaps, little Virginie. I cannot wait to see her."
"Or him", Virginie said. "I would love to see what you look like as a baby. You, before your moustache."
"As long as long as either of them are healthy," Poirot took his wife's nearest hand as soon as she set down her coffee cup. "This is the matter most important. So, Mrs. Poirot, you will promise me that you will take it easy. Rest when you are tired. Ask Hilde for what help you need. I do not care if she takes a bath in a tub full of the Liniment, just so long as she can help you."
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