Jill Kemerer - Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets

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 was 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.”

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.