Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets

by Jill Kemerer

  God. Didn’t surprise him. Ainsley lived her faith. For a moment, he envied it about her. He turned to his faith when it was convenient. How many times had he run from God? Blamed Him for life not turning out the way he’d wanted? He only prayed when he needed something.

  “Ainsley?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you still want to watch the movie? I feel bad for bringing up all these painful memories.”

  “Of course I want to watch it. It makes me laugh. Gives me hope. Makes me believe my Christmas dreams exist, if that makes sense.”

  “And what are your Christmas dreams?” He strained for her answer. But she shook her head.

  “They don’t matter. I take life one dream at a time. I’m glad to be here with the babies. And after Christmas my real dreams will begin. I want the job in the ICU. Then, hopefully, I’ll get into the nursing program. Everything else is icing on one of these gingerbread cookies.”

  Why he felt let down, he couldn’t say. Maybe he’d hoped he could play a small part in her Christmas dreams.

  He almost snorted. They barely knew each other. He must be losing it.

  “And now I get to ask if you have any Christmas dreams of your own.” Her face glowed.

  “Nah. I’m living the dream.” If only he believed it, he might not want more. “Well, I would like to sneak one of those cookies after we ice them.”

  She laughed, the sound joyous and tinkling. “I think I can arrange that. You sure you’re up for decorating ornaments?”

  “I’m up for it. But first, I’ll get the movie ready.”

  Spending the afternoon and evening with Ainsley was all the Christmas dream he needed. Dreams never worked out all that great for him anyhow. But if he did have one, it would be for this time with Ainsley to last.

  Wanting more was a dangerous thing. It was safer to be content with what he had.

  Chapter Seven

  Ainsley slipped out of her boots in the main house the following Friday morning. The babies were starting to stir and the rest of the house was quiet. Today she was flushing Belle out of her room and keeping her out. Ainsley would walk her through all the baby care even if it meant taking the bedroom door off the hinges... Well, that was extreme. No taking doors off hinges.

  The routine comforted her. She truly was blessed the babies had taken to the schedule so well. If only the adults on the ranch would get with the program...

  She had assumed Raleigh was getting up sometime in the early-morning hours with the babies to feed them since the infants typically grew hungry later in the morning. However, all week Ainsley had watched Marshall hurry up the path to the house at 5:00 a.m. She’d first caught him doing it on Monday. The wind had woken her out of her slumber and she hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. She’d finally given up and gone into the living room to read the Bible. She’d peeked out the window to see if fresh snow had fallen, and there Marshall was, chin tucked into the collar of his jacket, hands jammed into his pockets as he strode along the path. When they’d eaten dinner that night, she’d almost asked him about it, but something held her back.

  Out of curiosity she began setting her alarm to go off before five. Every day he headed up to the main house. Why wouldn’t he let Raleigh or Belle handle the children? And what else was he keeping a secret?

  The upside to her new wake-up time was she’d carved out a special hour to study the Bible and pray. The early session centered her and let her fully enjoy her morning coffee. In fact she’d had three cups this morning in preparation for her mission.

  “Belle?” She strode straight to her bedroom door and knocked. “I need to show you something.”

  They had less than thirty minutes before the babies would get fussy. She knocked again.

  “Belle, wake up. Can you come out here?”

  The door opened a sliver. “What do you want?”

  “You!” She plastered on her happiest smile. “Throw on some sweats and join me. I’d like to show you something.”

  “Can’t it wait?”

  Ainsley wouldn’t get annoyed. No sirree, she would not. “Nope.”

  “Fine. I’ll be right out.”

  “Good,” Ainsley said. “Want a cup of coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Cream or sugar?”

  “Both. Lots of both.”

  “You got it.” Ainsley went to the kitchen, popped a pod into the Keurig and set a cute pink mug under it. Humming to herself, she reviewed the baby charts from yesterday. No new entries. As usual.

  It was time to change that. She studied the counter—used bottles from last night had been carelessly strewn about. The bin of binkies was half-full. Normally, she’d do a quick spin around the living room, picking up pacifiers, burp cloths and such. Then she’d clean any dirty bottles and prepare a full day’s worth before getting the babies out of their cribs.

  But today she was waiting for Belle. Christmas was a few weeks away. Ainsley wasn’t doing the new mom any favors by shielding her from the reality of baby care.

  Three more minutes ticked by. You’re not escaping me this time, Belle Dushane.

  Ainsley poured cream and sugar into Belle’s mug and marched back to the bedroom door. “Coffee’s ready, Belle.”

  One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand. Four...

  The door opened and Belle came out. Her thick black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her face was scrubbed clean and she wore a loose-fitting long-sleeve T-shirt with black yoga pants. She looked young and pretty. Ainsley ignored her stony expression.

  “How do you manage to look so cute in the morning? I resemble a ratty old stuffed animal. Never mind. I’m going to walk you through the morning prep.” Ainsley extended her arm for Belle to lead the way. She didn’t trust that the woman wouldn’t escape if left to her own devices. “Your coffee is on the counter.”

  “Thanks.” In the kitchen, Belle lifted the mug. “Why haven’t you gotten the babies up?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” Ainsley said brightly. “I don’t get them up before they awake. We’re so blessed the little ones took to the schedule.”

  Belle frowned, sipping her coffee.

  “When I arrive each morning, I spend five minutes tidying the living room. Then I come in here and wash any dirty bottles as well as the binkies. Would you grab the canister of formula and bring it over?”

  Ainsley was on pins and needles waiting for her response. But Belle brought the formula over. Ainsley set the bin containing all the clean bottles on the counter. Then she washed her hands.

  “I always make six bottles for each baby. As you know, Ben gets red, Max gets blue, Grace gets green and Lila gets yellow.” She held up the bottom of four bottles so Belle could see the color markings. “I fill them with water to this line, then pour the scoops of formula in. You just screw the nipple on and shake for several seconds. Then I repeat until they’re all ready. Stick them in the fridge and you’re good to go. Here, you try.”

  Belle took a bottle, started filling it with water and held it up. “Is this enough?”

  “Um, a little more. Try to get it to the line. It doesn’t have to be perfect.” Ainsley wanted to pinch herself. Belle was actually out here, making bottles! “Yep, now pour the scoops in. That’s right. Here’s a nipple.” She held out the small plastic bin. Belle selected one. “Shake.”

  Belle shook it for a while. “That’s it?”

  “Easy-peasy.” She nodded. “Let’s knock the rest out. It only takes a few minutes.”

  Together they filled the rest of the bottles and lined them in the fridge. Then Ainsley took the chart over to the dining table. Belle followed, grunting as she sat in a chair. She continued drinking her coffee.

  “The babies seem to be doing well on the four-hour rotation. When they get bigger, they’ll sleep for longer stretche
s at night but you’ll want to keep feeding them every four hours during the day. As they grow, they’ll need more ounces at each feeding, too.”

  “Shouldn’t we get them up?” Belle’s forehead furrowed.

  She couldn’t believe Belle was finally showing some interest in them. Thank You, Lord!

  “They aren’t crying. They’re safe in their beds. Right now it’s important to prepare for the day.” She slid the feeding chart to face Belle. “After each feeding session, I mark how many ounces they ate. See how Lila has a three in this box? She drank three ounces. It will help you monitor their habits.”

  “Oh, I get it. Then there’s proof they’re actually eating.”

  “Exactly. When you’re done with your coffee, I’ll show you my diaper tricks. I have a portable changing area on the floor so I don’t have to leave them alone. Oh, I give them tummy time a few times a day, too. Not much, just a few minutes, but it’s good for strengthening their little backs and necks. Don’t ever leave them alone when they’re on their stomachs, though.”

  Belle turned to look out the back window and took a long drink of her coffee. “Thank you for...this.”

  Belle was thanking her? Ainsley’s heart melted. “You’re welcome. Thank you for letting me spend time with your precious babies every day.”

  “They are precious, aren’t they?” Belle’s eyes grew watery.

  “The most precious darlings I’ve ever seen.”

  She swiped under her eyes. “I’m going to start exercising and eating better. It will give me the energy to take care of them.”

  Ainsley didn’t respond. Did Belle really think her problem was a lack of energy? She debated whether to mention seeing a doctor or keep her mouth shut.

  She’d never been good at silence.

  “Exercise is very therapeutic. Maybe you could talk to your doctor about appropriate workouts for this stage of being a mom.”

  “I don’t need to see a doctor. I can walk on the treadmill.”

  Ainsley wasn’t going to argue. “Good plan.”

  A few minutes ticked by in silence. She should start getting the babies up, but she feared it would send Belle back to her room.

  “I love this time of year.” Belle faced her suddenly. “I feel so cooped up, though. It’s hard to get motivated.”

  “You probably haven’t left the house much, have you?” She’d go stir-crazy in Belle’s shoes.

  “No.”

  She thought of Raleigh and Belle—how they had flashes of tender moments but far too many tense ones. Maybe they needed some time out of the house to reconnect.

  “I have an idea. What if you and Raleigh went into town tomorrow, just the two of you?”

  A smile lit Belle’s face but dimmed as quickly. “I don’t think he’d tear himself away from this place. Gotta work those cattle, you know.”

  Ainsley chuckled. “He’s a rancher. That’s what they do. I think he’d jump at the chance to do some Christmas shopping and have some alone time with you, though.”

  “You think?” Belle looked so forlorn, Ainsley almost jumped up to hug her.

  “I do. I think you both need it. I’ll watch the babies until you return. You two go and make a day of it and don’t worry about hurrying back.”

  “You’d do that? Even after...”

  “I told you. I love the babies. I’m happy to watch them. It will make me even more glad to watch them knowing you and Raleigh are keeping your marriage strong.”

  One of the infants let out a cry.

  “Well, we’d better move. Let’s get them up. I’ll show you how to put fresh diapers and clothes on quadruplets in ten minutes flat.”

  “Ten minutes?” Belle arched one eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Time me.” She grinned.

  Yesterday, if anyone would have told her she’d have a decent conversation with Belle and make progress with her regarding the care of the quadruplets, she wouldn’t have believed them. The crazy thing was she could see herself becoming friends with Belle in different circumstances. Maybe things were finally getting better.

  She hoped so. There weren’t many days left for Ainsley on the ranch. She wanted the babies to have a wonderful life with a mom who adored them and a dad who did, too. Thanksgivings with games and laughter. Christmases full of love. The things she’d missed out on as a child. Hopefully, this was a start.

  * * *

  He had to stop taking the early-morning shift with the babies.

  Marshall heaved a bale of straw into the stall and poked it with a pitchfork. Just because Raleigh was used to heading out to the stables at 4:30 a.m. didn’t mean his schedule was set in stone. Shouldn’t he be feeding the babies at five instead of Marshall? He was their daddy, after all.

  Marshall spread the straw around with the pitchfork, then leaned against the handle. The five o’clock feedings weren’t bothering him as much as his conscience was. He’d told Ainsley he wouldn’t go over at night to help anymore. And he didn’t. Technically, he went over in the morning. The dark, quiet hours. Why? Because Belle was already waking up for the 1:00 a.m. feeding, and he wanted her rested so she could do more during the day.

  But it felt sneaky. Underhanded.

  Boots clomping on the hard dirt outside drew his attention. One of the ranch hands, Colby, stood in the doorway listening to Raleigh give him instructions. Then Colby left, and Raleigh continued to his office.

  Marshall hung the pitchfork on a hook on the wall and went straight to Raleigh’s office. He was sitting on a stool, looking over an invoice.

  “Got a minute?” he asked.

  “What’s up?” Raleigh waved him in.

  Marshall leaned against the doorjamb. A voice inside warned him to proceed cautiously. “Do you think you could have Colby or Dave start the morning chores instead of you?”

  “Why?” Raleigh spun to face him, his legs wide, his hands lightly clasped together. “You know I’m in charge here. I have to check the outfit.”

  “I know you do.” He didn’t understand Raleigh’s passion for looking over each cow. Yes, it had to be done, but Raleigh acted like the cattle would vanish in a poof if he wasn’t out there riding every morning. He swallowed. “I’ve been going over at five to help feed the babies, and, while I like that it gives Belle a break, I feel like it’s your place to feed them, not mine.”

  Raleigh stood, tucked his lips under and cocked his head. “You think it gives Belle a break, do you?”

  “Well, yeah. Of course.” He straightened, standing with his hips apart.

  “Tell me, Marshall, when doesn’t Belle have a break from feeding the babies?”

  “I’m not going over there at midnight or one anymore, so she’s—”

  “Not getting up with them. I am.” He jabbed his thumb into his own chest, and his voice rose. “And I’m giving them their bottles before bed, too. So forgive me if I’m not as worried about Belle needing a break as you are.”

  He bristled for a moment, then slumped. Why had he assumed Belle was handling the babies now that he’d stopped coming around every night?

  Because it’s easier to believe than the truth, dummy.

  “And I’m sorry, Marshall, but I have a real problem with you sticking your nose into my business. I agreed to let you work here out of respect for Belle. I’m tired of you coddling her. And I’m tired of you running up to the house every afternoon to make googly eyes at the baby nurse. But most of all, I’m fed up with you interfering with my marriage!”

  Let him work there? Marshall was the one doing him the favor, not the other way around.

  “I don’t coddle my sister, and I’m only running up to the house to help with the little ones. I’ve never interfered with your marriage.” His blood boiled, and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to grab his keys and leave the ranch for good. “S
omething is wrong with Belle. Okay? She’s depressed, and she won’t listen to me. So if you don’t want me interfering, tell her to go to a doctor. She needs help.”

  Raleigh’s stricken face seared itself into Marshall’s mind. The dark circles under the eyes, the worry lines in his forehead—all told him what he should have seen before barging in. Raleigh was struggling as much as Belle was. And Marshall had no clue how to fix either of them.

  He spun on his heel to leave.

  “Marshall, wait.”

  He clenched his jaw but didn’t move.

  “You really think Belle’s depressed?”

  Did Raleigh sound hopeful? What an odd reaction. Who would be happy to find out their wife was depressed?

  “Yeah, I do. Ainsley told me she thinks it’s postpartum depression, but I didn’t want to believe it.”

  “That would explain a lot.” He took off his hat and wiped his forehead. “I’ve been worried she’s...”

  “What?” Marshall narrowed his eyes, daring him to criticize his sister.

  “Don’t get mad.” He thrust both palms out. “I thought maybe she didn’t like being a mother. That she wouldn’t ever take to it, if you get my drift.”

  “That’s not the problem, Raleigh. I looked it up, and this depression thing is pretty common. But we should probably figure out how to get her to the doctor.”

  Raleigh nodded, exhaling loudly and looking at the floor.

  Marshall turned. “I’m going to inspect fence for a while. By the way, I’m still going up to the house every afternoon, so don’t ask me not to, and if you ever say it’s because of Ainsley and not the babies, I’ll knock you to the ground.”

  A grin spread across Raleigh’s face. “What makes you think you can knock me down?”

  He snorted. “Are we good?”

  “Yeah. We’re good.”

  Marshall headed back to the tack room and hoisted his saddle. That conversation hadn’t gone as expected. Did Raleigh resent that he worked for him? The man definitely had a problem with his closeness with Belle, which was ridiculous. Belle was Marshall’s twin, his only family. Didn’t Raleigh get it?