Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets

by Jill Kemerer

  “Wow, when did you have time to do all this?” She took a seat at the table.

  “I didn’t have to. The slow cooker did all the work.” He ladled chili into each of their bowls. She cut the corn bread into slices and set one on his plate.

  His spoon was poised above his food, but she cleared her throat. He glanced up.

  “Would you like me to say grace?” she asked.

  He set the spoon down and folded his hands.

  “Dear Lord, thank You for this delicious meal. Please let it nourish us and give us the strength to care for Your precious babies tomorrow. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

  “Amen.”

  “Marshall?” She slathered butter on her corn bread. “Would you mind telling me more about Belle and Raleigh?”

  His eyebrows drew together, and he seemed really into his food. “What do you want to know?”

  “How long have they been married? How did they end up with quadruplets?” Why is your sister ambivalent about the babies? She took a bite of chili. Spicy, meaty, it hit the spot. “By the way, this is absolutely delicious.”

  “Thanks.” The side of his mouth tweaked upward. “They’ve been married for three years. Raleigh had cancer in his early twenties and the doctors advised him the treatment would affect his chances at having children, so he took the advice of a fertility specialist. Belle was well aware the only way they’d have biological children was with medical help. They started the process right after the honeymoon. Their first attempts didn’t take. They decided to try in vitro fertilization. Two embryos were implanted. They both split. And two sets of identical twins were born.”

  “That must have been shocking. I had no idea.” She ran through a few mental calculations. Belle would have been on hormone therapy before getting pregnant. Then the fact she was having four babies would have sent her natural hormones into overdrive. Since she’d given birth five weeks ago, there was a good chance her entire body was out of whack. “So I take it both of them wanted the babies?”

  “Oh, yeah. They were ecstatic when they heard the news. Honestly, up until she gave birth, Belle was happier than I’d ever seen her.”

  “And Raleigh?”

  “I don’t know.” He turned his attention to the chili. “He’s hard to read.”

  His attitude confused her. He positively lit up talking about Belle, but when the topic changed to Raleigh, he shut down. She thought about her first impression of Raleigh. He’d beamed at the babies before he’d spoken to her. Sure, he’d been more concerned with having Marshall back on ranch duties than with what the babies needed, but did it make him a bad parent?

  “I’m hoping with you here—” Marshall glanced at her “—some of the pressure will be off Belle.”

  “Pressure? You mean with the babies?” She hadn’t been deaf to the undercurrents in the conversation back at the main house. Belle wanted help with the quads. Raleigh wanted help with the ranch. And Marshall wanted...what did he want?

  “Yeah.” He took another bite, and she took the opportunity to study his face. His handsome features and strong bone structure weren’t enough to hide the fact he looked completely exhausted, as if he hadn’t had a full night’s rest in a week.

  What if he hadn’t? He’d mentioned stopping over in the wee hours to help Belle sometimes, but surely he hadn’t meant every night?

  No. She almost shook her head. Belle and Raleigh were there. Between the two of them, they could manage feeding the quadruplets.

  Lost in her thoughts, she continued to enjoy the meal. The lamp next to the couch cast a welcoming glow on the living room, and the overhead lights added a cozy cheerfulness to the small room. The light whoosh of the wind outside added to the atmosphere. A pleasant place to enjoy a hot meal on a night like this.

  “What about you, Ainsley?” He met her eyes, and she felt exposed, like he could see right into her heart. “You made it clear you’d only be here through the holidays. What do you have lined up after that?”

  “I applied for a job at the hospital in Laramie. I’m trying to get into the nursing program at the university. I already have my first two years out of the way, but the program is competitive. I didn’t make the cut last year.”

  He pushed his empty bowl back. “So this job at the hospital is in nursing?”

  “No, I’d be a monitor technician in the ICU. It’s great experience.” She couldn’t wait to hear back from the hospital. They’d be making their decision in a few weeks. With her letters of recommendation, she had a very good chance at the job. And it would be one more plus on her application to nursing school.

  “I’m impressed. I’m not much into blood and guts. Well, unless you count the guts of a tractor.”

  She polished off the final bite of her chili. His eyes were brighter. He didn’t look as tired. “You can fix a tractor?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I used to work in Cheyenne for a large equipment repair shop. Loved it.”

  “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “When Belle found out about the babies, well, she and I are twins and we’re all we’ve got. No mom, no dad. Just us. I wasn’t going to leave her here to do it on her own.”

  “But she’s not on her own. She has Raleigh, right?”

  He straightened, adjusting his shirt. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  Quietly, she picked up her plate and bowl and took them to the sink. She understood as much as she needed to. Either Raleigh wasn’t a great husband or Marshall didn’t think his sister could handle much.

  Something was off about his relationship with Belle. She could sense it.

  Maybe he did have a flaw, after all.

  Chapter Three

  “We aren’t paying you to leave the babies unattended.”

  Ainsley wiped her damp hands on the hand towel and counted to five. Belle had finally opted to emerge from her room, and, as Ainsley had found out repeatedly over the past week, she’d come prepared to criticize. The eight-to-six schedule had been a nice fantasy. So had getting a day off. Every morning Ainsley arrived at seven thirty and couldn’t in good conscience leave until after seven, when Marshall and Raleigh returned from their evening chores. Though Marshall helped with the babies for a few hours each morning and in the afternoon, the bulk of the care fell to her. She wouldn’t mind, but Belle rarely touched the infants, and being treated like the hired help was getting old.

  “I had to use the bathroom.” She walked by Belle, who stood with one hip jutted out and a sour expression on her face. Ben started fussing. She mustered the last scraps of her patience. “The babies are about ready to eat. Why don’t you sit on the couch, and I’ll hand the boys to you?”

  “Why the boys? Why not the girls?” Belle backed up a step, alarm running a fifty-meter dash in her eyes. Ainsley was too tired to feel sympathetic. Max let out a whimper, and Ben’s fussing turned into crying. She’d tried to engage Belle many times since arriving last week, but she’d yet to see Belle holding a baby. Ainsley kept trying, though.

  “Fine. I’ll bring the girls to you. Let me warm their bottles. I’ll be right back.” She trudged to the kitchen and took out four bottles from the refrigerator. The sound of Grace joining the crying made her lean her elbows on the counter and drop her head. She’d learned the hard way that crying was contagious. The longer it went on, the harder it was to contain. It took everything inside her not to yell to Belle to pick up one of the babies and try to comfort them.

  The woman had zero baby skills.

  Or maybe she had no confidence.

  Either way, Ainsley wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. Don’t you want to be their mother? What is wrong with you?

  From the living room, she heard Lila’s little cry. Lord, this is bad if even sweet Lila is crying. Why am I here? I can’t make a difference if their mother refuses to hold them. What will happen after th
e holidays when I leave?

  As she warmed the bottles, tension gripped her throat. The babies’ cries grew more insistent. She tested two of the bottles—lukewarm—and marched back to the living room, ready to force Belle to feed a set of twins if need be.

  But one look at the woman and she halted. Belle stood over the bouncy seats with her hands down by her sides. A trail of tears rushed down her cheeks, and her fingers were trembling.

  How had Ainsley missed it?

  Belle wasn’t an ambivalent mother. And this wasn’t a lack of confidence—this was naked fear.

  Could Belle have postpartum depression?

  The truth pierced her to the core. Ainsley needed to approach her differently. She pulled her shoulders back and calmly approached Belle. Using her most soothing voice, she said, “Go ahead and sit on the couch. Lila wants her mommy.”

  Belle hastily wiped her tears away. “I...I’m really tired.” She took a step toward the hall, but Ainsley blocked her way.

  “I know you’re tired. Sit with Lila. She’s so cuddly. You can rest on the couch, and I’ll put the television on.”

  Belle licked her cracked lips. “I don’t know—”

  Ainsley put her arm around her, steered her to the couch and handed her a bottle. Then she unstrapped Lila, cooed some baby talk to her and placed her in Belle’s arms. Belle stiffened, but Ainsley pretended not to notice.

  “See? She’s better already.” Ainsley said a silent prayer of thanks when Lila stopped crying. She held her breath, waiting to see if Belle would offer the bottle to the baby. She did. And visibly relaxed. “I’ll get the boys’ bottles and be right back.”

  Thank You, Lord!

  Ainsley rolled up receiving blankets and propped the boys’ bottles on them in their bouncy seats. They both calmed immediately. Then she picked up Grace and sat on the other couch to feed her. With the babies quiet again, Ainsley turned on the television.

  “What do you like to watch?”

  “I don’t care.” Belle actually smiled at Lila.

  “Well, with Thanksgiving a few days away, let’s drool over the cooking shows.” She clicked to the food channel and relaxed into the couch. Grace was warm and happy, and for the first time in days, Ainsley had a sense of peace.

  Postpartum depression she could deal with. The color-coding and schedule had helped tremendously, too, but things had to change around here. If they didn’t, Belle wouldn’t be able to care for the babies on her own. And Ainsley couldn’t work twelve-hour days seven days a week or she’d get burned out.

  Marshall came to mind. She hadn’t asked him about it, but she suspected he stopped by regularly to help with the babies at night. They weren’t doing Belle, Raleigh or the children any favors by doing all the work. Grace finished her bottle, so Ainsley lifted her to burp her. Darling little thing. Funny how the exhaustion and frustration dissipated as soon as one of the babies was in her arms.

  “What do you and Raleigh usually do for Thanksgiving?” Ainsley patted Grace’s back and glanced at Belle.

  She got a faraway look in her eyes, making her appear softer. “Since neither of us has any family left, I like to make a big dinner.” Her face fell. “But I don’t know about this year. It’s all too much.”

  “If we help with the babies, would you want to make the dinner?” Maybe doing something she enjoyed would get Belle in a better frame of mind.

  “I...I don’t know. It’s a lot of work.” Worry lines creased her forehead.

  “Yes, it is.” Ainsley didn’t want her overwhelmed. “Maybe one of the guys could help you with cooking. I’m not very good in the kitchen.”

  Belle turned to face her. She seemed to perk up. “No? Well, Raleigh is hopeless unless he’s grilling. I’ll ask Marshall.”

  The fact Belle automatically fell back on Marshall concerned her. It was as if he was at her beck and call.

  And he never turned his sister down.

  Uneasiness slithered down her spine.

  Ainsley could write the book on codependent relationships. She’d been in one with her father for twenty-one years. Three years ago, she’d broken free, and she’d promised herself she’d never be in one again.

  Whatever was going on with Marshall and his sister didn’t seem healthy. If he didn’t set some boundaries, Ainsley didn’t know if she could stick out this baby nurse stint to completion. She’d discuss it with him at dinner. She just hoped he’d listen—for his sake, for Belle’s and, most of all, for the babies’.

  * * *

  Life was finally starting to feel manageable. Marshall finished brushing his horse and led him to the stall. After feeding and watering the animal, he strode back to his cabin. High winds had left the ground dry. It was almost 7:00 p.m., and his porch light beckoned under the dark sky. Inside his cabin, he took off his winter outerwear before scrubbing his hands and checking his appearance in the bathroom mirror.

  Bags hung low beneath bloodshot eyes. His scruff had grown to an unruly level. He looked terrible.

  What did he expect? He hadn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep at a time since the babies had come home from the hospital. He didn’t want to tell Ainsley, but Belle called him every night at around 1:00 a.m. in a panic. And worry twisted his insides until he figured it was best to run over and get the babies settled. It didn’t take long. They’d need a change and a bottle and they’d drift back to sleep in no time.

  But then he’d get a text at 5:00 a.m., as well. And since Raleigh was out feeding cattle before that, Marshall knew she was all alone. So, he’d stop in at the main house. Running back and forth between the ranch and the babies left him exhausted.

  After making himself presentable, he went to the kitchen and turned on the oven. He’d thawed out barbecue pulled pork earlier. He tossed it into a baking dish and slid it along with some frozen French fries into the oven. Then he threw on his coat and went out the door. If he didn’t collect Ainsley from the main house, she’d be there all night.

  Guilt slowed his pace on the path. Ainsley was working twelve-hour days. He wanted to believe Belle was doing her fair share of the baby care, but deep down, he knew she wasn’t. And since he’d been Raleigh’s right-hand man for the calf sale, he’d been unable to help as much. Thankfully, as of yesterday, all the calves had shipped, and the ranch was back to normal operations.

  As he’d ridden around the pastures all afternoon, he’d had one thing on his mind—and it wasn’t calves.

  Dinner with Ainsley. His favorite part of the day.

  After a quick knock on the back door, he let himself in. None of the babies was crying, which was a relief. He stopped when the living room came in view. Belle sat on one of the couches, and she cradled Lila in her arms. Ainsley was on her knees in front of the bouncy seats, holding a stuffed puppy up to Ben. She rose, turned and spotted Marshall. She brought her finger to her lips, nudging her head at Belle.

  He placed his hand over his heart. His sister actually looked like she was enjoying holding the baby. His relief was so sweet it almost brought tears.

  Things were finally turning around.

  The sound of Raleigh stomping his boots in the breezeway made Marshall’s gut clench. Please, don’t say something stupid, Raleigh.

  He entered the room, the tang of winter air on his clothes, and he stopped short. Marshall wanted to say something, to warn him not to ruin it, but to his surprise, Raleigh padded over to Belle and put his hand on her shoulder. “She sure likes her mama, doesn’t she?”

  Belle covered his hand with hers, then quickly slipped it back under Lila.

  Ainsley crossed the room to Marshall.

  “Let’s give them some privacy,” she whispered.

  They strode together to his cabin, neither speaking. He had so much he wanted to say, to ask, but a part of him wondered if it was better not to know. Whatever he’d just witnessed w
as a blessing, and he’d accept it.

  He opened the door for her, and the aroma of barbecue made his stomach growl.

  “I can’t tell you how incredible this smells.” Ainsley hung up her coat and crossed to his shelves, taking down two plates as she’d done every night since arriving.

  He enjoyed their routine. While she set the table, he found hot pads and took the food out of the oven.

  “Thank you so much for feeding me,” she said. “I feel bad you’re doing all the cooking, but I can barely make instant oatmeal. Frozen foods are my best friends.”

  “It’s the least I can do.” He set the pulled pork on the table and went back for the fries. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you. Whatever you did back there to get Belle holding the baby, well...I can’t thank you enough.”

  He waited until Ainsley finished saying the prayer before serving up the food.

  She picked up a fry. “I think your sister has postpartum depression.”

  His fork clattered to the table. Postpartum depression?

  “She needs to see a doctor.” Ainsley took a bite.

  “But she was better today. She was holding Lila. She looked happy.” The words came out too fast. He didn’t know what to think.

  “I know. Today was a good start. But I’m not going to be here long. And she needs to be able to handle all four babies.”

  “One will lead to another. And I’ll stop by as much as I can.”

  Ainsley wiped her mouth with her napkin and looked him in the eye.

  “That’s another thing we need to talk about. I know you think you’re helping by going over there at night—”

  “I think I’m helping? As far as I can tell, I am helping.” He pushed his chair back, rubbing his hand over his stubble.

  “You’re right, you are helping. But neither of us can sustain this. And we shouldn’t. From my perspective, you and I act more like parents to these babies than either Belle or Raleigh. We cover the brunt of their care.”