Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets

by Jill Kemerer

He tilted his chin up. “That’s why I hired you.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it.

  Her eyes softened. “You didn’t hire me to be their mother.”

  “I know.” He slumped, his appetite gone. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She covered his hand with hers, and he was surprised at how comforting her touch felt. “Marshall, you need sleep. And we both need a day off. Your sister and brother-in-law are taking advantage of you. And I didn’t agree to work seven days a week, twelve hours a day. I’m getting burned out, and I think you are, too.”

  He couldn’t argue. He knew it was true. But what was the alternative?

  “I want to stay, but...” She averted her eyes.

  Wait? She wanted to stay? Was she considering leaving? His heartbeat galloped as the few bites of dinner he’d eaten threatened to come up.

  She continued. “If I’m going to stay, we both have to work together for the quadruplets’ best interests.”

  If she was going to stay? He shook his head to clear the panic. He didn’t succeed. “What are you suggesting?”

  “We stick to set hours. From now on, I’m arriving at eight and leaving at six whether your sister likes it or not. And you have to stop going over there in the night. If she can’t handle it, Raleigh needs to step up. He’s their father.”

  He swallowed. He knew she spoke the truth. Raleigh should be on night duty with Belle. Still, Marshall didn’t know if he could go through with what Ainsley was asking.

  “We both are taking Sundays off.” She took a dainty bite of pork.

  Sundays off? She was backing him into a corner.

  “I don’t see how I can.” He massaged the back of his neck. “She hasn’t been alone with the babies for an entire day.”

  “Raleigh will be with her. He was in and out all day last Sunday. He can leave the ranch chores to the other hands for one day of the week.”

  “Neither Belle nor Raleigh knows what to do, though. What will happen to the little ones?”

  She flattened her palms on either side of her plate and leaned forward. “You didn’t know what to do, and you figured it out. They will, too. We’ll train them. Show them the color-coding. Give them the schedule. They have to start taking care of these babies, Marshall.”

  A splitting headache was coming on. But she was right. He kept hoping Belle would suddenly become a capable mother, and he’d ignored the fact Raleigh should be on diaper duty, too. What did that say about him?

  “And one more thing.” She lowered her lashes before meeting his gaze straight on. “Belle needs to see a doctor. Postpartum depression is nothing to mess around with. I don’t think she’ll listen to me, but you? She’ll hear you out.”

  Ugh. He’d officially lost his appetite.

  “You’re telling me I need to convince my sister to see a doctor for postpartum depression? No way.”

  “Then I’m sorry, but I have to turn in my notice. I’m not going to spend the next five weeks of my life being the sole caregiver to four babies while their mother hides in her room and their father is too busy with work to feed or change them. Belle needs medical help.”

  She couldn’t quit! He stood and stalked to the kitchen counter. What was he supposed to do? How could he convince her to stay without agreeing to her demands?

  What she was asking was too hard.

  He’d been faced with impossible decisions before. One had left Belle vulnerable, alone. And it had been the last time he’d seen his mother.

  He took a deep breath. This was different. Ainsley wasn’t willfully blind like his mother—if anything, she saw too much.

  He didn’t like it, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t let Ainsley leave. It would benefit no one.

  “Fine. Sundays off. I’ll talk to Belle.”

  “And you won’t go over to help with the babies at night anymore?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I won’t go over at night.”

  She flashed a smile. “Then, I’ll stay.”

  He should be relieved, but was he letting his sister down? She wasn’t going to be happy when he refused to come over tonight. And broaching the subject of postpartum depression? He’d rather get the flu...or flesh-eating bacteria.

  When was the last time he’d told his sister no?

  Staring out the window, he realized he rarely refused her requests.

  He was so tired. Why couldn’t Belle snap out of it? And why wasn’t Raleigh caring for the babies at night already? He stole a peek at Ainsley, who wore a serene expression as she ate.

  Regret punched him in the gut. Had he been taking advantage of Ainsley?

  And in his rush to help Belle, had he been hurting his sister?

  He closed his eyes. It was time to change things, the way Ainsley said. He just prayed Belle would forgive him.

  Chapter Four

  If he could take a snapshot of one moment to represent everything about his sister he’d missed since she’d given birth, this would be it. Harmony. Quality time with her. Marshall poked Belle as she dumped brown sugar into the bowl of yams. She gave him the death glare, but a smile teased her lips. In the background, television announcers introduced another float in the parade, and Ainsley’s and Raleigh’s voices could just be made out from the living room.

  “What next?” With a knife, Marshall scraped the chopped potatoes into a large pan.

  “You can cut up the herbs for the dressing while I finish these yams.” Belle sprinkled some ginger and cinnamon into the bowl. “Thanks for helping, Marsh.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing, Belle.” He peered around the corner to check on Ainsley. Well, that was stretching the truth. He liked feeding the babies with Ainsley. She’d set one of the girls on a blanket on the floor. Raleigh stood over them, his face perplexed as he rubbed his chin. She took a fresh diaper and laid it next to the baby. Then she pointed for him to hand her a wipe. After cleaning up the child, she put the new diaper on, snapped the coverall shut and cradled her to her chest. He heard her say, “Now you try it.”

  “Are you going to stand there all day?” Belle had her sassy tone on. “Come on. Chop. Chop.”

  He tore his gaze away from Raleigh, who was kneeling down, flipping the diaper and peering at the sticky tabs with a dumbfounded expression.

  “Did you know your husband is changing a diaper at this very moment?” He rinsed the herbs, setting them on a paper towel to dry.

  “I don’t believe you.” Belle’s eyes grew round. He nodded. She stuck her head around the cupboard, then jerked it back. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Why not?” Marshall tried to keep his tone light. The fact Raleigh hadn’t been changing diapers irritated him. Didn’t the man care they were all chipping in to help with his children?

  “You know Raleigh.” She sniffed. After a few stirs, she poured the yam mixture into a baking dish.

  “Not really.” Marshall didn’t pretend to know much about the man she’d married. Raleigh was a strong guy, cared about the ranch and cattle and his employees. He didn’t talk much. And he didn’t seem to support Belle the way she needed.

  “Well, he’s not like Ed.”

  Marshall clenched his jaw. The knife slipped from his hand, clattering into the sink. Hearing Ed’s name rattled him. Their mother’s fourth—or was it fifth?—low-life boyfriend, Ed, had moved in when they were twelve. He’d slapped Marshall around and yelled at him for no reason. Marshall could handle getting knocked about and shouted at, but he couldn’t handle the way Ed stared at Belle. He would sit too close to her. Pinch her. As the months wore on, Ed’s preoccupation with Belle increased. And Marshall’s disgust and fear and anger had magnified, too. He’d told their mother Ed was getting touchy-feely with Belle. And she hadn’t believed him. His pleas with his mother to dump Ed had been ignored.

&nbs
p; Marshall had tried to protect Belle. He told her to run to the apartment upstairs and stay with her friend Tiffany if he wasn’t around. But the day their mother announced they were all moving into Ed’s house, Marshall realized the little protection Belle had from living in the apartment would be gone. He told his mom he’d kill Ed before moving there.

  “Marsh?” Belle asked. “Are you listening?”

  He cleared his mind of the troubling thoughts. “Sorry, what?”

  “I love Raleigh, but I wish he didn’t expect me to be the world’s best mom. If he helped at night...oh, forget it. No sense wishing.”

  “What if he did help with the babies at night?” Marshall leaned against the counter. “Would it take some of the pressure off you?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded small. “I feel like I should be able to handle it on my own.”

  Marshall’s muscles tensed. He still hadn’t broached the subject of not coming over on nights or Sundays. And he certainly hadn’t touched the topic of seeing a doctor. But maybe Belle was more receptive to getting help than he’d thought.

  “I think you’re going through a lot more than most new parents are prepared for. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Want me to talk to Raleigh about helping with the babies at night?”

  She glanced up through watery eyes and nodded.

  “It will be better for you if he’s helping instead of me.” He patted the herbs dry and started cutting them. “And I’m sure you’re missing your alone time with Raleigh, too. Ainsley and I are going to be taking Sundays off from now on. That way you and Raleigh and the quads can get used to each other and you’ll have some space.”

  “What? We don’t need space. We need help with the babies.”

  He paused, shifting to face her. “Well, Ainsley and I need a day off.”

  “Fine.” She slammed a cupboard shut. “You and Ainsley take your day off. I’ll never get a day off again, but who am I to complain? Pass me the pepper.”

  “It’s not like that.” He handed her the pepper shaker.

  “Then what is it like? It sure seems like history repeating itself.”

  He stilled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t pretend getting sent to the group home wasn’t a relief. You got out. And I was stuck.”

  He stepped back, shaking his head slowly. “How can you say that? The group home was a prison sentence. You know it killed me to not be with you, to not be able to protect you.”

  Her eyes grew dark, hard. “Yeah, well, no one protected me. I ran away and learned to protect myself, but I can’t run away from this.” She spread her arms to take in the bottles and formula.

  “Why would you want to?” He was still reeling from her accusations. He’d failed her—he’d lived with it for many years—but it still hurt hearing her say it.

  “I don’t,” she said too quickly. “I love the children.”

  “Then why would you say it?”

  “You know me.” She flushed. “I say stupid stuff sometimes. Forget it. Let’s leave the past behind us and enjoy today.”

  He closed the gap between them and hugged her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. It still hurts me, Belle. More than you’ll ever know.”

  “I needed you, Marsh.” She stepped back. “Not just because of Ed... I needed my brother.”

  “I needed you, too. And I’ll always be here for you.” He resumed chopping the herbs, although with more force than before. The hum of the microwave halted with a beep.

  Ainsley approached with flushed cheeks and sparkly eyes. “Can I squeeze in to warm up some bottles?”

  “Of course.” Marshall moved aside. She wore a green sweater and formfitting jeans. Her hair was loosely braided to the side. She looked fresh and pretty.

  “Everything okay out there?” Belle asked.

  “Oh, yes. Max is entertaining his daddy.” Ainsley’s face glowed. She sure looked happy. “Mmm...it smells so good in here. Thanks for making dinner. I can’t wait until it’s ready.”

  “Should be an hour or so.” Belle’s tone set Marshall back.

  Did his sister have a problem with Ainsley? Belle’s reactions and emotions had been all over the place for weeks. He didn’t know what to think. But at least he’d come through on one of his promises to Ainsley. They now had Sundays off. And with her showing Raleigh the basics, Raleigh could help Belle if she needed it at night.

  As for talking to his sister about seeing a doctor, it wasn’t necessary. Obviously, Belle was nervous about taking care of four babies. And after surviving their childhood, Marshall couldn’t blame her. With some time and patience, Belle would be back to herself. And maybe someday she’d forgive him for not being around when she’d needed him the most.

  * * *

  “I married the finest cook in Wyoming.” Raleigh beamed at Belle. “Would you pass the turkey, please?”

  Ainsley glanced back and forth between Belle and Raleigh and let out a sigh of relief. Thanksgiving was going well. They seemed to be enjoying each other, unlike yesterday when Raleigh had stopped in during the afternoon. Belle had been in her room resting, and he’d gone to check on her. Within minutes, Belle had started shouting at him, and he’d stormed out, his face set, and retreated to the barn or wherever he went after one of their fights.

  Ben squirmed in Ainsley’s arms, and she shifted him, smiling at his adorable face. He’d been fussy all morning. With the other three babies napping, Ainsley had decided to hold him during dinner.

  “Everything is delicious.” She peeked at Marshall, who was buttering a roll. He met her eyes and smiled. Her cheeks grew as warm as the piping-hot food on the table.

  “Thank you,” Belle said. “And thanks, Marshall, for helping me. You might have overdone it on the sage, but the dressing is still mouthwatering.”

  Ben made a noise, screwing up his little face. He’d been unhappy most of the day, and Ainsley couldn’t figure out why.

  “Is he all right? Does he need a bottle?” Raleigh sounded gruff but concerned.

  “He’s fine. A little fussy. He might have a tummy ache.” Ainsley shifted the boy to burp him. She gently patted his back and stole a bite of food when she could.

  “Should I call the doctor?” Belle had paled.

  Ainsley waved her concern away. “No, no. This is normal. Some babies fuss all day long. And if they have colic, they cry nonstop. This is nothing to worry about.”

  “Well, when should we worry?” Belle gripped the fork in her hands, her knuckles turning white.

  Why was Belle so tense? Ainsley ran her hand over Ben’s fuzzy hair. “If one of the babies has a fever, isn’t eating, is lethargic—basically if they seem like they aren’t themselves—that’s when you call a doctor.”

  One of the babies cried from the other room. Belle, still pale, didn’t move. Raleigh covered her hand with his. “It’s okay, I’ve got this one. You cooked all morning. Sit and enjoy the meal.”

  Belle’s eyes grew wider than a full moon, and Ainsley almost chuckled. She met Marshall’s gaze, which told her he was as surprised as she was. Moments later, Raleigh returned holding Grace like she was made of glass.

  “Should I feed her?” Raleigh didn’t look comfortable.

  Ainsley didn’t need to check the chart to know Grace had taken a bottle an hour prior with the other babies. “No, try a binkie.”

  Marshall stood, clapping Raleigh on the shoulder. “I’ll get her a pacifier.”

  “Thanks.” Relief chased away the concern as he smiled down at Grace. “Smelling all this food woke you up, didn’t it, pretty girl? Just wait until you get to eat your mama’s home cooking.”

  Ben had stopped fussing, so Ainsley tucked him in the crook of her arm. She continued eating the turkey and mashed potatoes on her plate. She’d steered clear of the cranberry relish. An unfortunate incident w
ith a canned version as a child had turned her off from the jellylike dish for life.

  Marshall returned and handed Raleigh the pacifier. Grace instantly settled down.

  “Well, will you look at that.” Raleigh sounded delightfully surprised.

  They all resumed eating. The atmosphere in the house was so pleasant for once. Ainsley couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be than right here to celebrate the holiday. For a brief moment she wondered what her father was doing now. As far as she knew, he wandered the countryside as a cowboy for hire.

  If she had to guess, he was eating a frozen turkey dinner and then holing up at a local bar until closing time. Holidays had never been his strong suit. What had been, really?

  He tried, Ainsley. There were times he tried. He taught you how to ride horses, made sure you took driver’s training and even came to one of your high school volleyball games.

  She blinked away sudden tears, wishing his life could have turned out differently and that she could still be in it.

  “Ainsley, would you like another roll?” Marshall held out a basket to her.

  “No, thank you.” She inhaled, shaking her head politely. She knew better than to think about the past. It was better to focus on the present. Holding a baby and eating a real turkey dinner was a vast improvement from most of her Thanksgivings, including the previous two years when she’d waited tables.

  When she’d been younger, she’d had fantasies about celebrating with a large extended family and playing games and watching Christmas movies all afternoon. Today was the closest she’d gotten to that fantasy.

  “What do you all do after dinner?” Ainsley asked. “Do you have any traditions?”

  Belle met Raleigh’s gaze and a grin spread across her face. He groaned.

  “We always play a game.” Belle’s nose scrunched in mischief.

  “Can we please skip it this year?” Raleigh rolled his eyes.

  “Not the Thanksgiving charades again, Belle.” Marshall ducked his chin, shaking his head. “Please, spare us from pretending to be turkeys.”

  “Fine, although I still say you both did an excellent job.” She studied her fingernails a moment, then clapped her hands. “I’ve got it! We’ll play Thanksgiving Would You Rather.”