Jill Kemerer - Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets

“Come in.” Marshall stepped aside for her to hang up her coat. “Follow me.”

He hurried to the open-concept living area, then looked down at the boys, their faces screwed up in distress. Now what? He was as close to surrender as he’d ever been.

“Let me.” Her soothing voice held authority. She took Max from him and made cooing noises. The baby calmed immediately, staring at her with one teardrop hanging from the outer edge of his eyelashes. “Aw, he’s precious. So tiny and sweet.”

Tiny, sweet and completely beyond him.

“Oh, you are a darling, aren’t you?” She cradled him and turned to Marshall, her eyes glowing with compassion. “I’m Ainsley Draper.”

“Marshall Graham.” He nodded gruffly. Ben was still crying, and Grace was, as well. Indecision made him hesitate. Did he pick up Grace? Or set Ben down so he could prepare more bottles? Were the babies even hungry? Did any of them need to be changed? Burped? Rocked? Anxiety gripped his torso, tying him in knots.

With Max in her arms, Ainsley carefully lowered herself to kneel in front of the girls. She made silly, kissy faces at them. Grace quieted, her tiny lips wobbling as she watched Ainsley. “Where is your wife?”

Wife? It had been years since he’d had a girlfriend, and he’d never had a wife.

“I’m not married.” Marshall placed Ben in a bouncy seat and locked the strap. The baby arched his back and cried louder. “These are my nieces and nephews. I’m helping my twin sister, Belle, and her husband, Raleigh, adjust to life with quadruplets.”

Adjust was one way of putting it. Ever since Belle had given birth to the two sets of identical twins five weeks ago, Marshall had been trying to help her any way he could. It was the least he could do given their miserable childhood. Although the quads had been home from the hospital for only a week, he was this close to running out to the barns and telling Raleigh it was his turn to deal with the infants. Marshall would rather check cattle for hours on end than change another diaper, which was saying something considering he didn’t relish his duties as a cowboy.

For the umpteenth time he wondered if his best friends, Clint, Nash and Wade, were right—maybe he shouldn’t be working as a ranch hand for Belle’s husband.

But memories rushed back of him and Belle when they were thirteen and fighting off abuse from their mother’s latest live-in boyfriend. Marshall had tried to stand up for Belle...and look where it had gotten him.

Separated from his twin. Sent to a group home for boys. Unable to protect Belle from that man.

He would never, ever let his sister down again.

“Oh, so you’re just here for a few days or something?” She moved Max to her other arm and turned Ben’s bouncy seat so he could face the girls. She began talking to Ben in a low, melodic voice. His crying ceased, followed by a pitiful sigh and a hiccup.

“How did you do that?” Marshall’s arms dropped to his sides as he stared at the back of Ainsley’s golden hair. She’d been there for—what, three minutes?—and she’d already quieted all four babies.

He suddenly understood the meaning of baby whisperer .

She peeked back over her shoulder at him. “Do what?”

“Get them to stop crying. I don’t think the house has been this quiet in a week.”

She laughed, the sound filling the air with tinkling joy. “I’ve been babysitting since I was twelve, and I worked at a day care center for years. I have a lot of experience. I will say quadruplets are a first for me, though.”

“For me, too.”

A flash of understanding passed between them, and he got lost in her pretty eyes. All the tension of being thrust into the role of babysitter dissolved. Help had arrived. He didn’t have to do this alone anymore.

He gestured to the kitchen. “I’ll get the bottles.”

“Is it time to feed them?” She’d turned back to the babies and was strapping Max in the fourth bouncy seat.

“I don’t know. What do you mean?”

“Are they on a schedule? When was the last time they ate?”

“I feed them constantly, but they barely eat anything, if that makes sense. All I do is prep bottles and try to feed them, then another fusses, and it’s just...” He didn’t bother finishing. He’d always considered himself self-reliant, but the past days had driven him to his limit.

“The sooner we get them on a schedule, the better. I’m assuming their mother is resting?”

Belle was resting all right. And avoiding her children along with the real world. He pinched the bridge of his nose. That wasn’t fair. She was recovering from their births and needed extra help and a lot of patience.

“Why don’t you get the bottles and then tell me their names? We’ll feed them together.”

Relief jolted through him. He loped to the kitchen and measured out the formula. When the bottles were ready, he tightened both hands around all four and returned to the living room. Ainsley had wrapped Lila and Grace in lightweight blankets. A pastel baby quilt was spread out between the couches, and Ainsley had propped each girl on the infant support pillows he’d never figured out what to do with. All the babies were getting fussy by the time she swaddled Ben.

“Go ahead and feed the girls.” Holding Ben, she took the other two infant support pillows out of the pile of baby paraphernalia in the corner. Within a few minutes, all four babies were snuggled on the floor, happily eating. Marshall held the girls’ bottles while Ainsley held the boys’.

“I can’t believe it.” He glanced at Ainsley, sitting a few feet from him on the floor. “They’re all eating at the same time. None of them are crying.”

“Yeah, isn’t it great?” She grinned. “They’re so itty-bitty. Tell me about them. What are their names? Are there any health problems I should know about?”

“They’re all healthy. Each one weighs around six and a half pounds, except for Lila. She’s the smallest of the bunch.” He pointed to one of the girls. “By the way, this one’s Lila.” He continued down the row. “Grace is here. That’s Ben. And Max is next to him.”

“How do you tell them apart?”

Heat rushed up his neck. His method was probably stupid.

“Don’t laugh, but every morning I mark Grace’s pinkie nail with a Sharpie. And I mark Max’s with one, too. It’s simple to tell the boys from the girls.”

She chuckled. “Smart. I would have done the same, except I would have used nail polish.”

“Nail polish might be better. I have to reapply the marker often.”

“Well, I’m sure these sweethearts will be napping before we know it. Then you can introduce me to your sister, and she can go over the babies’ care with me.”

He tried not to grimace. He supposed her reaction was normal. Of course a baby nurse would expect the mother to go over the infants’ needs with her. But Belle had barely lifted a finger to deal with the children since they’d come home from the hospital last week. If Ainsley was looking for guidance from his sister, she was going to be disappointed. He hoped Belle didn’t make a scene. If Ainsley left, he didn’t know what he would do.

* * *

She’d been there for two hours and still hadn’t caught sight of the babies’ parents. Was Marshall the only one taking care of them?

Ainsley carried Max and Ben down a hallway to a bedroom with four white cribs. Marshall held the sleeping girls and carefully set them in the same crib. He hitched his chin for her to put the boys into one with navy sheets. When she’d gotten them settled, she tiptoed out of the room with Marshall at her heels.

Her initial plan of meeting the mother and father, going over the babies’ schedules and getting a tour of the place before crashing in her room for a while clearly wasn’t happening. The long drive from Laramie had wiped her out, but she’d be able to rest later. She hoped so, at least.