De-Tached: Story 3: Life with Beverly
Chapter Two: Pere Noel
Beverly just loved the touch of him; the feel of him. Holding his hand as they walked home from midnight mass simply filled her heart with joy. And though Jean-Luc's expression as they walked with their boots crunching against the snow, looked solemn to most observers, Beverly recognized the gleam in her husband's eye. He was happy. He was also relishing this moment most thoroughly.
Midnight mass (which was actually held at midnight) had been everything that Jean-Luc remembered; and everything that Beverly had hoped it would be. For Wesley had joined them at the church. With his arrival, Beverly's Christmas wishes were fulfilled. Now, she would ask for nothing more for Christmas, than just to walk hand-in-hand with her husband on her right side, and her son striding by her left side.
Robert had arranged for a horse drawn sleigh to take all of them to church. Jean-Luc was amused that though the sleigh was drawn by two chestnut Normandy horses, the runners to the sleigh were lifted by anti-grav units so that they would glide smoothly on air, over every snow bump and rut. He idly wondered if his brother had been aware of that modern contrivance when he ordered the sleigh.
The large red and gold trimmed sleigh had picked them up after the services were over, but when they reached the gates to the Château, it was Beverly who suggested that they get out and walk the two kilometers home. For it was a crystal clear, cold night. The Picard family got out and walked. The moon was full, casting long moon shadows as they walked, lighting the way. The stars were a brilliant canopy above them. As they neared the house, Rene and Wesley ran ahead of the two strolling couples.
And Beverly simply couldn't resist temptation. She just had to kiss her husband in the moonlight, savoring every sensation, every feeling, every moment of their first official Christmas together. "Joyeaux Noel, Jean-Luc. May we have many more Christmases together," she whispered, her frosted breath spiraling upward. Then she stirred out of his arms.
"As my lover commands," he whispered in her ear. And then he chuckled. For they had both observed Robert and Marie kissing as well.
Robert heard their laughter. "Mind you, little brother, you'll soon learn to take a kiss or two whenever you get the chance. For when your children come, private moments are few and far between," he warned.
Jean-Luc didn't quite heed this warning. But Beverly knew what was soon to come.
Catching up with Robert and Marie, the couples walked together toward the house on the lane flanked by tall ancient oak trees, now bare of all but a few leaves. The beautiful moonlight filtered down through the naked branches, creating diamond ice sparkles on the snow.
They reached a part of the drive that seemed to be icy. Beverly hesitated. "Do a glissade step," Jean-Luc suggested as his arm went about her waist to guide her. Quickly catching on, the smooth, skater-like movements quickly got them across the icy ruts. Then they all proceeded on to the Château
When they entered the courtyard, Robert and Marie moved closer to the other couple. "Jean-Luc," Robert hummed.
"Yes, Robert?"
"Do you know what Tante Beverly said to Rene?"
"What did you do now, Beverly?" was Jean-Luc's teasing response.
Robert provided the answer before Beverly could explain herself. "She told Rene that she had never, ever been in a snowball fight."
"We never saw snow on Arvada. And on Caldos, though sometimes we did get a freeze, we never saw any measurable snow…," Beverly explained even as a snow ball went whizzing by her nose to knock Jean-Luc's fedora off of his head.
"Merde!" Jean-Luc cursed. He now knew why Wesley and Rene had run ahead of them. They'd been setting them up, and making snowballs. He bent down to pick up his fedora. This was a mistake for the next missile hit him squarely on the ass. Jean-Luc did not doubt that Wesley was the culprit. For as intelligent a young man as Rene was, Jean-Luc did not think that his nephew had the tactical knowledge to create an attack from a position of strength. For the courtyard had been shoveled clear. But the boys were pitching from behind a snow bank. There was only one thing that a Starfleet officer could do in such a situation. He charged at them, roaring.
Beverly quickly grasped what this unexpected opportunity meant. She went after Wesley's stash of snowballs in order to pummel Jean-Luc. Robert rather liked the idea of his younger brother being the main target. He ran and grabbed some snow to try and shove it down his brother's collar even as the nephew captured the uncle to wrestle him in a snow bank. And for the nephew to shove a hand full of snow under the boy's jacket. Jean-Luc didn't forget about Wesley either. For as Wesley moved closer to dump some more snow on his school superintendent, Jean-Luc performed a move that he'd learned from Mr. Worf and with his foot, swept Wesley off of his feet to land on top of his freshly made pile of snowballs.
Marie, on the other hand, did not single out Jean-Luc. She climbed into a snow bank. If the target was male, she threw a snowball at it. She had a rather good pitching arm too.
Midst squeals from Rene, and laughter all around, a rousing good snowball fight was had. Unfortunately, Jean-Luc had been the primary target. And the amount of snow on his greatcoat showed it. No one went unscathed when this family tradition ended, except for Beverly. That is, until Jean-Luc walked up to his bride, kissed her soundly, and then stuffed a snowball, albeit a small one, down the black velvet collar of his beloved's red velvet cape coat. Then, with great ease, he lifted her up in his arms, and carried her inside to deposit her in front of the fire in the grand salon. She was still squealing, threatening dire revenge even as he carried her inside. And they continued to laugh as she brushed the snow off of herself as well as her husband.
After a few cups of steaming, spiced home-made cider, they all went to bed, for none of the adults doubted that the children amongst them would be up rather early.
=/\= '=/\=' =/\=
The house was quiet as Jean-Luc slid out of his old bed. Beverly had been rather amused that Marie had lodged them in his boyhood room. Beverly found it fascinating to inspect the prized possessions of a young Jean-Luc Picard. She knew that the trophies and ribbons and plaques were a given. Men like Jean-Luc were driven to excel in all things. But what she found interesting were the book collections. Everything from Edgar Rice Burroughs to J.M. Barrie to Jane Austen to Jules Verne to antique superhero comics caught her eye. She'd always known that deep in his heart, her husband was a true romantic in the noblest sense of that term. And judging by his childhood reading material, it had been an innate part of him since his early years.
Jean-Luc, on the other hand was pleased that this night, Beverly had fulfilled one of his teenage year's deepest desires - to make love to a woman in his bedroom. It had been a quiet loving for Jean-Luc had not wished to tire out his bride, even though she was the instigator of their lovemaking. Still, the memory of her warmth touched his heart.
Jean-Luc found his slippers in the dark. He did not doubt that Beverly had put them by his side of the bed for remembering exactly where he put his slippers was something that Jean-Luc did not often do. Donning his new grey robe, he went in search of the noise that had disturbed his sleep in this pre-dawn hour.
Approaching Rene's room, he heard whisperings. Slightly pushing open the door, Jean-Luc observed an obviously excited Rene listening to every word that Wesley said. For Wesley had set up the astral projector and was pointing out to his new cousin, some of the places that he had once visited. And in true Starfleet tradition, Wesley was also telling tall tales about those visits too.
Deciding not to disturb them, Jean-Luc stepped away, and went down stairs, wandering silently amongst the rooms. Echoes of ancestral ghosts were raised within each of the old rooms by his footsteps. He walked past the portraits of a few ancestors, recognizing them even in the dim lighting. Eventually, he stood in front of the Christmas tree, awash with the memories from the ghosts of his own Christmas' past. There was one thing that was foremost in his thoughts. And that was how many of the Christmases of his life he had spent away from his familial home. And for the first time he truly regretted making the decisions not to come home - when it was an arbitrary decision and not something that his Starfleet duty demanded. For what was a little arguing amongst family? He vowed never to give his unborn children a reason not to want to come home at Christmas…
Beverly only sighed as she turned toward him when he slid back under the warm covers. With a welcoming sigh himself, he closed his eyes, snuggled closer to his love and went back to sleep.
=/\= '=/\=' =/\=
Even through the thick oak door of their room, the squeals of excitement penetrated the room.
Jean-Luc opened his eyes and then felt Beverly stir next to him.
"Listen," he whispered as laughter filled the corridor.
"What time is it?" Beverly grumbled. Her pregnant body did not like time zone changes. And then she paused as she heard the laughter too. "In a few years it will be our cookie hustlers that will be squealing…" She sat up. Her body did not agree with this movement.
Knowing what she was feeling, he handed her a hypospray. After she administered her shot, she handed the spray back to her husband, and then made a mad dash for the bathroom. suspecting that he would be next, Jean-Luc found his slippers again before he self-administered his own anti-nausea dose.
About twenty minutes later, Beverly dressed in a warm, royal blue velvet dress with long sleeves and a full length skirt, was ready to go downstairs. Jean-Luc had put on an Alsace hand-knitted blue sweater he'd found from long ago and some grey slacks. Beverly, even as she admired how good her husband looked in a blue sweater with a silver snowflake pattern, only grumbled about having a husband who could wear the clothes that he had worn in high school. This was something that was totally, cosmically unfair.
They joined their family for coffee and croissants. As they watched Rene and Wesley unwrap the presents that Pere Noel had brought them. And thus began a perfect Christmas day at home, for Jean-Luc.
=/\= '=/\=' =/\=
As Jean-Luc held Beverly's arm as she stepped into their shuttlecraft, he solicitously asked, "Are you sure you are up to going back to San Francisco for this evening's open house?"
"Jean-Luc, if you ask me that question one more time, I swear I'll schedule you for a full physical tomorrow. And believe me, by then - you'll need it."
"Beverly, you forget that I can feel your fatigue."
"And I'll nap on the shuttlecraft. And if it is necessary, there should be enough time for me to take a nap before the party begins as well."
Letting Beverly win this argument went against his sense of husbandly concern. But he'd also learned too well, over the decades, that one should really not try to thwart Beverly, even if it were for her own good. In this matter, he would let Beverly decide since he knew that her concern for their babies was equal to his own.
A moment later Wesley came dashing up the ramp. He put several tote bags in the back of the shuttlecraft. And then he whistled. Loudly.
"It looks like Uncle Robert gave you nothing but wine as your Christmas present," as he looked at the stacks of wine crates in the back of the shuttlecraft. Walking over to his seat, he asked, "Please tell me some of that wine is going for the party tonight."
"Cadet, whatever wine that will be available for the party will be strictly for the officers." Then Jean-Luc smiled. "If you wish, you may pilot the shuttlecraft for a while."
Wesley quickly went forward.
A few moments later, Jean-Luc noticed that Beverly had fallen asleep. So he decided to get caught up on certain business matters. Checking his padd, the messages from Mildred indicated that all was set for the open house this evening. Jean-Luc was anticipating a somewhat dignified get-together.
He really should have known better.
