by Jill Kemerer
“Of course, Mr. Draper.” Marshall nodded to her father.
“You look beautiful, Ainsley.” Her father was clearly fighting emotions. “Thank you for asking an old coot like me to escort you today. I don’t deserve it.”
Ainsley’s smile broke like dawn across her face. She hugged her father. “Thank you for coming, Dad. We wanted you here. Thanks for celebrating with us.”
He bowed his head. “I did you wrong...”
She touched his sleeve. “We’ve been over this. I forgive you. It’s okay.”
“You’re a fine person. The best I know.” He wiped under his eyes and addressed Marshall. “Take care of her. Protect her with your life.”
“Gladly, sir.” Marshall put his arm around her and held her to his side. “It’s my life’s mission.”
He nodded and retreated.
“Before I take care of you and protect you, though, I want to kiss you.” Marshall shifted her to face him.
“Well, time’s a wasting, cowboy.” She raised her eyebrows to him.
He dipped her and claimed her lips.
“Break it up, you two,” Belle teased. “There are a few fellas here who want to kiss Auntie Ainsley.”
Ainsley flung her hands in the air and let out a holler.
“Ben, Max. The most handsome boys I’ve ever seen.” Ainsley took each boy out of Belle’s arms. The nine-month-old twins wiggled and looked at her in wonder. She kissed each of their cheeks. “You two have gotten so big. I hope you’re being good boys for your mama.”
“They’re the best.” Belle’s smile lit her face. “Oh, here come the girls.”
Raleigh carried each of them. They both wore matching headbands with their dresses and ruffly tights.
“I’ll take these buckaroos.” Marshall lifted Ben and Max from her arms, and she took Lila and Grace from Raleigh.
“Precious darlings.” Ainsley kissed the girls’ cheeks, too. “I can never get enough of your pretty faces. You look just like your mama.”
“I agree. Pretty as can be.” Raleigh put his arm around Belle’s shoulders, and she leaned in, smiling at him. “I’m going to have to walk around with a shotgun when they get older. No one better think about messing with my girls.”
Ainsley laughed. “Something tells me their big brothers will take care of them.”
“Can we get a picture?” Lexi brought the photographer over. “Marshall, get closer to Ainsley, and try to get all the babies to look this way.”
After several attempts, the photographer seemed satisfied. Belle and Raleigh took the quadruplets back, and Belle paused to speak to Ainsley.
“Thank you. Thank you for all your help last year, and for making Marshall so happy. I owe the babies’ health to you, too. I didn’t deserve to be in your wedding.”
“You don’t have to apologize every time you see me. We’re sisters now. I love you. I couldn’t imagine you not being in the wedding.” Ainsley threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly. Marshall got choked up.
“You’re something else, you know?” He circled his arms around her.
“I’m just...”
“Mine. And I’ll thank God for the rest of my life that you said yes.”
“And I’m thankful He led me to you.”
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, pick up these other books in Jill Kemerer’s Wyoming Cowboys miniseries:
The Rancher’s Mistletoe Bride
Reunited with the Bull Rider
Available now from Love Inspired!
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Keep reading for an excerpt from Their Family Legacy by Lorraine Beatty.
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Dear Reader,
Babies and Christmas—two of my favorite things! When I got the idea to write about quadruplets, I pictured tiny toes, wiggly bodies and all those soft, squishy cheeks waiting to be kissed. And I also could see a mom struggling with postpartum depression and not realizing it. Marshall and Ainsley came to the rescue, but in so many ways, the babies rescued them. It’s funny how life works. Sometimes tough situations lead us to clarify what we really want out of life.
This Christmas season, I hope you’ll take a few minutes to bask in the beauty of God’s love. He doesn’t think less of us when we struggle—He sympathizes with us, loves us, wants the best for us at all times. No matter what joys or troubles the holidays bring, lean on the One who adores you—Jesus.
Have a very merry Christmas!
Jill Kemerer
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Their Family Legacy
by Lorraine Beatty
Chapter One
He’d be here today.
A nervous knot formed in Annelle Shepard’s chest. In just a couple of hours she’d have to confront the man who killed her cousin and best friend fifteen years ago, Jacob Langford. She had no desire to meet him face-to-face. Ever. But if she wanted to keep her aunt’s estate, this beautiful old home and the financial bequest that would give her room to breathe after years of living pillar to post, then she had to fulfill the terms of the will. Every year on the anniversary of her cousin’s death she had to accept a dollar from Langford until either of them died.
The whole concept left a bad taste in her mouth. No amount of penance could bring back her cousin. Her aunt’s persistence in making this man pay for his crime bordered on insanity and she resented being forced into participating.
But the bottom line was she needed a home for her boys. One that no one could gamble away, or foreclose for failure to pay the mortgage. Aunt Margaret’s house provided a safe and permanent place to raise her ten-year-old twin boys, Tyler and Ryan. Here they could put down roots and live a quiet, normal life without the constant tension and chaos of a drunken husband and father.
A knock sounded on her front door and she inhaled sharply, glancing at the clock. It was too soon for the man to be here. He’d agreed to come by sometime early in the afternoon. This was probably her neighbor Denise coming to get her boys. She’d offered to take them to the splash park for the afternoon so Annie could deal with the official meeting without interruption.
Denise Sanderson was an added blessing in her move back to Hastings. She lived next door, and Annie’s twins and Denise’s three children—Steve, Johnny and Tina—were close in age and played well together. Denise had been a huge help in recommending doctors, a good church and putting her in touch with a widow’s support group that Denise said had helped her sister move forward with her life. It had been two years since Annie’s husband
Rick’s death and she still struggled with certain aspects of widowhood.
She opened the door with a smile.
“Are they ready?” Denise stepped into the hall just as the boys raced down the stairs.
“Bye, Mom.” Two voices spoke as one.
“Hold up there, fellas. You behave for Miss Denise. Do you hear me? And watch out for each other.”
“We will.” They answered in unison.
Denise ushered the boys out onto the porch. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay for this meeting?”
Annie appreciated her friend’s concern. She’d been battling life on her own for so long, it was nice to have someone who cared. “Absolutely. Thanks for watching them for me.”
Denise chuckled. “I’ll get you back—don’t worry.”
Annie waved goodbye as the boys climbed into Denise’s car, and then she went back inside and glanced at the clock. She rubbed her upper arms as she paced the outdated kitchen in the old house, a nervous knot bouncing around in her chest. Maybe she should have demanded a specific time for the meeting. The waiting was unbearable.
Her gaze landed on the clock again. Once she got past this obligatory meeting she could put it behind her for a year and get on with her life. Denise had expressed concern for her safety meeting a stranger. She couldn’t deny a certain amount of apprehension. Annie had a mental image of Langford in her mind of a bad-boy foster kid, driving drunk, raising cane. He’d be a big man, built like a wrestler, with tattoos covering his arms and neck and maybe even his face. He’d have black eyes beneath a protruding brow and a hard, unforgiving mouth held in a permanent sneer.
Would she be safe? A resolve born from years of standing up to a drunken husband infused her with courage. How hard could this meeting be? If he failed to show up then he’d be sent to jail. If he did, then he was here to meet his obligation and he would leave. Then she could get back to making this place a real home. The old 1920s brick foursquare house might be old and cluttered and in need of love, but it was hers and she could make it the home she’d always dreamed about. This would be her forever home and the place her boys would come back to with their families someday.
A loud knock on the door froze her in her tracks, forcing her to question her resolve. She closed her eyes and prayed for courage. She’d do whatever was necessary to make a safe home for her boys. Even meeting a murderer face-to-face and accepting his one-dollar penance.
* * *
Jake knocked firmly on the front door of Mrs. Owen’s house, his insides twisted into a knot. He’d hoped to never have to perform this distasteful ritual again. But here he was. His fingers closed around the dollar bill in his pocket. Lord, give me peace and strength to face this woman. Fifteen times he’d made this pilgrimage. How many more would there be before he was set free?
When Mrs. Owens had died, he’d expected his sentence would end. But then he’d been notified that the heir to her estate would be continuing his yearly obligation. Apparently Mrs. Owens wanted him to pay for the rest of his life. No doubt the woman would be a younger version of her aunt, a tight-lipped, scowling woman with cold, accusing eyes. The best he could hope for was that the niece would spare him the excessive humiliation her aunt enjoyed dispensing.
Jake rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d been behind the wheel when the accident that killed his friend Bobby Lee Owens had occurred. They’d both been drinking when they started home from a party before losing control and hitting a tree.
Bobby Lee’s parents weren’t satisfied with Jake going to jail for a year for involuntary manslaughter. They wanted him to pay a bigger price. As mayor of Hastings and close friends with the local judge, Mr. Owens was able to concoct an unusual sentence. Once a year, on the day of Bobby Lee’s death, Jake would come to the Owens home and pay them a dollar. They wanted to make sure that he never forgot what he’d done.
At the time he’d agreed to the arrangement. It seemed a better choice than going to jail. Besides, he was the foster kid on the block. Bobby Lee was the town’s golden boy. What choice did he have?
The thing was, he didn’t need a court order to remember the date or what had happened. Being forced to confront the Owens each year only poured salt in his unhealed wounds.
The wide mahogany door swung open. He caught his breath. The woman standing there was no pinched-faced spinster with hate-filled eyes. Quite the opposite. She was blonde with wide blue eyes the color of chicory flowers, and hair the golden shade of early wheat. He guessed her age to be close to his own. There was a sweet freshness about her that brought a smile to his lips, which he quickly stopped. He was here to serve his sentence, not to charm a pretty lady.
He braced himself for the confrontation to come. She smiled, bringing a light into her blue eyes that captivated him. There was something lovely and appealing about her girl-next-door looks. She stood about five foot four, with a determined posture that said she was used to taking care of herself.
“Can I help you?”
The question threw him until he remembered she probably had no idea who he was. “I’m Jake Langford.”
The friendly smile quickly turned to a look of stunned shock. Her gaze made a quick survey of his frame and a frown creased her forehead. The light in her eyes darkened.
“Oh. Yes. I’ve been expecting you. I’m Annelle Shepard. Margaret Owens was my aunt.”
Her voice was rich and musical. He cleared his throat. “Yes, so I was told.” He stood stock still, waiting for her to make the next move. This was usually the point at which Mrs. Owens would hold out her hand for his payment, a sneer on her lips and fire in her eyes as she slowly took the bill from his hand. Then the diatribe would begin.
The niece took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest in the same manner as her aunt. Here it comes. He dreaded hearing angry words from this lovely woman. Her sunny looks suggested that she didn’t know the first thing about hate or revenge. But then he wasn’t a real good judge of character. He met her gaze and saw the blue eyes held puzzlement. She wasn’t what he’d expected. Maybe the same was true on her end.
She broke eye contact. “I think you have something for me?”
He drew the bill from his pocket, smoothed it out between his fingers and handed it to her. She stared at the money as if it was poison. He could read reluctance and perhaps distaste in her posture. Was it possible that she wasn’t as committed to punishing him forever as her aunt had been?
She took the dollar with one quick movement. “Thank you. I’ll inform the attorney that you’ve met your obligation.”
Jake nodded, unable to believe his ears. “There’s nothing else?”
“Such as?”
He debated whether to explain or simply turn and leave. No need to stir the pot, but he found himself rooted to the porch by a growing curiosity about the lovely niece. “Your aunt usually liked to expound on what happened that day.”
A faint rosy tinge stained her cheeks. “I’m sure she did. You did take the life of her only son and my best friend.”
He searched his memory for one of this pretty woman as a girl. “I don’t remember you.”
“We moved away when I was fourteen. I never saw Bobby Lee again. You’re responsible for that.”
Her words pierced like a knife. There was nothing he could say. “If that’s all, I need to be going.”
Mrs. Shepherd’s blue eyes searched his face. “Yes. We’re done. Until next year.”
Jake spoke before he could censor his words. “And the year after that, and the year after that.”
The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed rapidly. “I didn’t make this arrangement, Mr. Langford.”
“But you’re choosing to continue it.”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I have my reasons.”
“I’m sure you do. Goodbye.” He pivoted and took the steps slowly,
replaying the encounter in his mind, examining every moment. Today’s exchange was totally different from years past. Mrs. Owens had taken great pleasure in reminding him of all the joys of life her son would never know. College, marriage, children and whatever else she had dreamed up in her warped mind. The woman had been bitter and vindictive.
Annelle Shepherd on the other hand appeared to be the opposite. He hadn’t sensed any anger in her tone or attitude, only resolve. At the sidewalk he turned and glanced back at the house. Mrs. Shepherd was still standing in the door, studying him. She darted back inside quickly and shut the door.
For the first time in fifteen years, Jake wished he had to pay another dollar tomorrow. He definitely wanted to know more about his new warden.
* * *
Annie shut the door, blocking her view of the departing Jake Langford. She closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm her racing heart. Her anxiety over her first encounter with the man had been replaced by surprise and confusion.
He was nothing like she’d expected, and she was unsure how to deal with the discovery. In her mind she’d always seen him as hard and unfeeling, with no respect for anyone. But the man who’d come to her door dressed in neatly pressed khaki pants and a pale green polo shirt resembled more of a successful business man than a hardened criminal.
He’d stood a good six feet, maybe more, with broad shoulders, a lean physique and warm, intelligent brown eyes. His dark walnut-toned hair was thick and perfectly styled. The intriguing angle of his features cast interesting shadows on his high cheekbones and generous mouth. The deep creases at the corners of his mouth peeked out when he spoke and softened the sharp line of his jaw.
Annie stared at the dollar in her hand. What was she supposed to do with it? Save it? Spend it? First she had to report it. Reaching for her phone she opened her contacts list. Her aunt’s attorney, Dalton Hall, took her call immediately. “How did it go?”
“Fine. He handed me the money and left.”