Jill Kemerer - Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets

“Will I be taking care of the quadruplets all by myself?”

“No, I’ll help, too.”

Him? But what about their mother?

“Don’t you think Belle should be involved?” she asked. Six weeks would pass in a blink, and it would be better if Belle was as hands-on as possible. Ideally, Raleigh would be changing diapers and feeding babies during the day, too, but given his ranch duties, she doubted he’d have time. Hopefully when Ainsley left, Belle wouldn’t be overwhelmed trying to care for the children on her own.

“Yes, she should, and if all goes according to plan, I can resume helping Raleigh outside soon.”

Nothing ever went according to plan, not in her life, at least. That’s why she didn’t leave anything she could control to chance. As far as this situation went, she might as well take charge now.

“I suggest we color-code these babies. I’ve got stickers and markers in my car. I’m going to need you to show me where everything—bottles, bibs, diapers—is stored. When I arrive each morning, I’ll make up bottles for the next twenty-four hours and put them in the fridge. All we’ll have to do is warm them up. And we’re keeping track of how much and when each baby eats. Don’t worry. I have charts.”

A sense of empowerment rushed up her spine. Maybe she’d been looking at this all wrong. Instead of seeing the potential pitfalls—like four tiny infants and an absent mother and father—she’d focus on the pluses. No system? No problem. She’d impose her own methods on the quadruplets. She’d get them on a schedule.

When Ainsley left, Belle would be comfortable caring for her babies. A surge of purpose filled her chest.

A shuffling sound came from the hallway.

“What is going on?” A beautiful woman with flashing brown eyes and a mane of long black hair appeared in the archway. “Why is this stranger in my living room, Marshall?”

* * *

Just when he’d been concentrating on the delicious phrases of color-code these babies and don’t worry I have charts , his sister had to go and kill his good mood. He’d told her he was hiring a baby nurse. He’d gotten Raleigh’s approval, too.

“This is Ainsley Draper, the baby nurse we hired. Ainsley, this is my sister, Belle Dushane.” He held his breath, waiting to see how Belle would react. His twinstincts told him not well.

“Your babies are beautiful.” Ainsley sailed across the room to shake Belle’s hand. Her smile brightened the atmosphere. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Belle regarded her with distaste and limply shook her hand. Glaring at his sister, Marshall clenched his jaw. She merely raised an eyebrow. He’d always wished he could do the same. His sister certainly had the haughty gesture down pat.

“We don’t need a baby nurse.” Belle made a shooing motion. “So thank you for coming, but—”

One of the babies let out a cry. Marshall rubbed his temples. Here we go again.

Ainsley gestured to the hallway. “Since I’m here, do you want me to stay awhile and help change them?”

Belle’s face flushed. “Marshall and I can do it.”

Was his sister crazy? Did she honestly think they were in any way succeeding at taking care of quadruplets? They were in way over their heads.

“I understand.” Ainsley slowly turned to leave.

“Ainsley, wait.” Marshall thrust his hand out. “Stay for a while. We’ll sort this out.”

Belle snapped her fingers at him. “Come on.”

That did it. His sister had crossed many lines lately, and he’d had enough. One of the other babies joined in with the crying. His head began to throb.

“No, Belle.” He widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t snap your fingers at me. And don’t even think about sending Ainsley away. We need help.”

Her chin inclined, and her eyes glinted. “I don’t need anyone taking care of my babies.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she stormed down the hall. Marshall debated whether to follow her. If he hadn’t shared a womb with her, he’d be tempted to run out the door.

“Should I talk to her?” Ainsley’s confused face eased his tension. She didn’t seem horrified by his sister’s behavior, although he certainly was.

“No, I’ll handle it.” He entered the babies’ room, and his annoyance vanished. Silent sobs racked Belle’s back as she stood with her face in her hands over the girls’ crib.

“What’s wrong?” The girls were crying, too, but he figured they could wait.

“I don’t know which one is which, Marsh. I don’t know my own babies.” She stared up at him with those eyes that had pleaded with him so many times over the years to fix it , and he muttered under his breath.

“We’re going to change that.” With his finger, he raised her chin to look at him. “Four infants are a lot. And I can’t do this all by myself, Belle. I know you don’t feel well. I don’t expect you to be some superwoman. But I’m clueless—I don’t know what I’m doing. Ainsley is good with the babies, so let her stay.”

He picked up one of the girls. “Here’s Lila. The one with the black pinkie nail is Grace. Let’s change them.”

She swallowed, looking as if she faced a rattler instead of a baby.

He took Grace to one of the changing tables and began unsnapping her coverall. “Who’s the prettiest little cowgirl this side of Sweet Dreams, Wyoming?” He cooed. “You’re going to break hearts, darlin’.” When he’d finished, he picked her back up and turned to see how Belle was doing with Lila. She wasn’t in the room. He checked the crib. Lila wasn’t either.

He held Grace to his chest and returned to the living room, hanging back at the sight before him. Belle was handing the baby to Ainsley.

“I’m not feeling well.” Belle’s face was pinched. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Of course we want you to stay.”

Ainsley’s eyes widened, but she nodded and took the baby. “Why don’t you tell me what your expectations are? I want us to be on the same page with their care. I did some research before driving here, and I’d like to use a color system to help manage them.”

Belle fidgeted with her wedding ring. “Yes, the color thing sounds good.”

“Sit with me?” Shifting Lila to her other arm, Ainsley patted the couch. “Tell me about the babies. What are their personalities like? Should I be concerned about anything?”

Belle’s throat worked. She shook her head. “I...I don’t feel well. We’ll talk later.” Then she spun and fled past Marshall down the hallway to her bedroom.

He exhaled, his cheeks puffing out. At least she’d apologized to Ainsley. But what if the damage had been done? Was the apology enough to make Ainsley stay?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “This must be the worst first day ever for you.”

“No, I’ve had some doozies.” Her lips curved up and, though her eyes twinkled, concern radiated from them. “Do you think your sister is all right? Should I check on her?”

“I’ll do it. Be right back.” Still holding Grace, he retreated down the hall to speak with Belle. Grace blinked up at him, and he kissed her little nose. Then he knocked on Belle’s door.

“Go away.”

“I’m coming in.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Too bad.”

He slipped into her room. The closed curtains, unmade bed and darkness made the air feel thick, stale. She sat slumped on the edge of the bed with her face in her hands. He lowered his body to sit next to her, keeping a firm grip on Grace as he did.

“What’s going on, sis?”

“Nothing. I’m tired.”

“I know you are. It’s not easy being a mama.” He patted her knee. “Are you okay with Ainsley staying?”