Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets Read online

  The sound of the back door opening made Belle sit up.

  “Just let me get cleaned up, and we’ll go.” Raleigh tore through the living room on his way to the bedroom.

  Thank You, Lord, for making him come through for her. Ainsley turned to Belle. “See? You two are going to have a great time. What are you going to do first?”

  “I don’t know.” Belle’s cheeks were flushed, and she stood, smoothing the sweater over her hips. “I haven’t been to Lorraine’s Mercantile in ages. She has such cute home decorations. Maybe I could find some frames. It would be nice to have the babies’ pictures on the mantel.”

  “I agree.” Ainsley made a game of opening and closing her mouth to entertain Grace.

  “And I miss my peppermint mochas from The Beanery.” Excitement infused her tone. “It’s going to be so nice to get out for a while.”

  Ben let out a squawk.

  “Is he okay?” Belle pivoted, looming over the activity mats. Her hand was over her chest.

  “Why don’t you check?” Ainsley said nonchalantly.

  She peered down at him. “I think something’s wrong.”

  Ainsley glanced at the boy. He stared up at the stuffed whale dangling above him. His face was growing red, and his feet pumped in irritation. “He’s probably tired of being there. Pick him up and hold him.”

  Belle shot her a glance as if she was crazy, but she girded her shoulders and bent to pick him up. Sliding him out from under the activity bar, she reached under his armpits. “He’s so light.”

  She was taken aback. Of course he’s light. He’s a teeny-tiny baby.

  Belle placed him near her chest, patting his back. He quieted. “He’s not crying.”

  “He likes being held.”

  Belle pressed her cheek to the top of his head for a moment. Ainsley admired the pair. Belle was striking, and the sight of her enjoying holding Ben brought a wonderful pressure to Ainsley’s chest.

  “You are a sight for sore eyes.” Raleigh entered the room. He’d changed into a Western shirt and jeans. He crossed over to Belle and put his arms around her and the baby. “You’re beautiful.”

  Ainsley looked away but not before seeing Belle’s eyes glistening. Their love was obvious.

  “And this little fella is sure handsome.” Raleigh took Ben out of her arms and cradled him. He looked at Ainsley. “Where should I put him?”

  “Let me set Grace down and I’ll take him.” Ainsley set her on the activity mat. Then she took Ben from Raleigh.

  “Thank you, Ainsley,” he said. “We appreciate this.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get out of here and enjoy yourselves.” She waved them away.

  They laughed and headed out the front door. When Ainsley heard the truck rumble down the drive, she moved all the babies back into their bouncy seats, placed blankets over them and gave them pacifiers. She went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. By the time she returned, they’d all fallen asleep except for Lila, whose eyelids kept drooping. Ainsley switched the television on and clicked through to a Christmas movie.

  Belle had seemed normal today. Well, as normal as Ainsley had seen her. She’d been easy to talk to and had actually picked up Ben. Usually Ainsley had to bring the babies to her. But Belle’s comment about how light he was had been strange. Didn’t Belle ever hold the babies when Ainsley wasn’t around?

  She’d feel better about the situation if Belle would see a doctor. Ainsley still believed she had postpartum depression. Maybe it was clearing up, though. Yesterday and today had been promising.

  As the movie continued, she sipped the coffee and looked around the room. This house ranked a zero on the Christmas decoration scale. Belle had mentioned she wanted Raleigh to put up the tree. The man was likely exhausted. Ranching all day, up with the babies at night...it was no wonder he hadn’t set up the Christmas tree.

  She pulled a throw over her legs as she sprawled on the couch. She peered over to check the babies. Sleeping—except for Lila. The girl watched Ainsley as her binkie bobbed in rhythm. Ainsley swung her legs over and picked up the smallest of the quadruplets. She’d had special time with the other ones. Lila was so undemanding, Ainsley felt bad about giving her less attention than the other three.

  “Not today, sweet one. You and I are going to hang out and watch the rest of Home Alone. What do you say to that?”

  Lila looked up at her through sleepy eyes.

  Ainsley lightly traced her finger across each of Lila’s eyebrows, then her cheeks. Her eyelids closed, she let out a sigh of contentment and promptly fell asleep.

  What would it be like to have a house like this to decorate for Christmas? A husband who would take her out on a date? A baby of her own to cuddle with on a cold Saturday in December?

  She thought of Belle, who seemed to have it all, and drew her eyebrows together. Belle wasn’t enjoying her blessings, but could Ainsley blame her? She had a real condition no one seemed to be concerned about. If Belle didn’t continue to show improvement, Ainsley would have to talk to her. The guys could blow off Belle’s behavior, but she couldn’t. Not when it involved the children.

  Maybe no one really had it all. The perfect life was an illusion. She wanted to believe finding happiness was possible, though.

  The back door creaked. She craned her neck. Marshall came into view. He smiled when he saw her, and her breath caught in her throat.

  He’d come over.

  And he knew Belle wouldn’t be around, which meant...he’d come over to be with her.

  * * *

  “I hope it’s okay I’m here.” Marshall glanced at Ben, Max and Grace all sound asleep in their bouncy seats. Then his heart hiccuped at the sight of Lila sleeping in Ainsley’s arms. Ainsley—maternal, organized, generous—he hadn’t realized a woman like her existed. With the throw spread over her legs, tendrils of blond hair escaping from her ponytail and her face flushed, she looked as appealing as a mug of hot cocoa. Better.

  “Of course. I’m glad you came.”

  Phew. He’d been worried she was mad at him after arguing last night. At least she didn’t hold a grudge.

  “I told Raleigh I’d fix the fence, or I would have been here earlier.” He took a seat in the chair kitty-corner from her. “What are you watching?”

  “Home Alone. You missed all the good parts.”

  “I love that movie. I remember the first time I saw it. I couldn’t believe their mansion and the decorations. I wanted to move right in.”

  She chuckled. “Same here.” Her face full of love, she gazed down at Lila. “It was nice of you to help Raleigh out today. Belle was worried he wasn’t coming, and when he arrived, she positively lit up.”

  “I’m glad. I didn’t do it for Belle, though.”

  Questions lurked in her eyes.

  “I thought of how you volunteered to take care of the babies, and your generosity touched me. I did it for Raleigh.”

  “Really?”

  He sniffed, shrugging. “Well, for my sister, too, I guess, but mostly because I knew it was the right thing to do.”

  Her eyes gleamed with appreciation, and he stared, unable to look away.

  “What’s the plan for tonight?” he asked.

  “I don’t have one. This was as far as I got.”

  “You’re sure you don’t mind me staying?”

  “I’m sure,” she said. “But you get all the stinky diapers.”

  “You got it.” He settled deeper into the chair. “Did you get the gingerbread ornaments hung up? I want to see the end results.”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t had time. I’m thinking I’ll decorate my cabin tomorrow. I’ll get the tree out. String the lights. Hang everything. You should stop by.”

  “Sounds...nice.” He gulped. Did she really want him to come over? Or was she being polite? Maybe he’d
been monopolizing her. Coming on too strong. She didn’t have to spend every free minute with him, although he liked it when she did.

  “You’re still taking me to church, right?” she asked.

  “Yes, church in the morning, and I’ll come over after to help hang the ornaments.”

  The movie was almost over, and when it ended, Ainsley turned to him.

  “I have an idea, but I want your opinion.”

  “Shoot.” He tried to come up with what was on her mind but had no idea what this was about.

  “Belle seemed down about not having the Christmas tree set up. And I know Raleigh is busy and tired, so...” Her face crinkled as her shoulders hiked upward. “Would you be willing to set up the tree tonight? We won’t decorate it. We’ll merely get it ready so they can.”

  “Sure. Why not?” He liked the idea. He took in the room full of baby stuff. The place needed some holiday cheer. “I think Raleigh keeps all the Christmas decorations in the garage attic.”

  “You’re positive you don’t mind?” She shifted Lila to her other arm.

  “I think it’s a great idea. In fact, I’ll try to find the tree right now before the babies wake up.” He stood, pointing to her. “And you can find another Christmas movie. We might as well get in the spirit, too.”

  She lifted the remote and winked. He laughed.

  An hour later, he finished fluffing the artificial tree branches. He’d set it up in front of the picture window in the living room.

  “Does it look okay?” he called.

  Ainsley stood a few feet away, her finger under her chin and her eyes narrowed. “Can you move it an inch or two to the left?”

  He moved it. “Better?”

  “Yes. Right there. How are you at stringing lights?”

  “Terrible.” He had no problem admitting it.

  “I’ll help.”

  “Good.”

  She dug through the plastic bins and found boxes of white lights and an extension cord. “Give me a sec to unravel these.”

  “You got it.” He padded over to the babies, all still sleeping. They’d be waking up soon, and then he and Ainsley would be busy warming bottles and changing diapers. “We’d better hurry.”

  She laughed, holding up a tangle of lights. He took one end from her hands, trying not to breathe in her perfume, but it hit him anyway.

  What was he doing? The woman looked good, smelled amazing and was nicer than anyone he’d ever met. He was falling for her, and not gently like a feather drifting to the ground. This was more like a brick hitting pavement. Hard.

  “You’re into Christmas, aren’t you?” he asked. Maybe she’d start talking and he’d forget about her perfume.

  “I love it. The most wonderful time of the year.” She grinned and started weaving the strand around the bottom of the tree. She bumped into him, and he backed up so she could keep going around.

  “What was your best Christmas?” He watched her placing the lights here and there.

  “Easy. My thirteenth.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Her face fell.

  Why would she be down about her best Christmas? Something wasn’t adding up.

  “Dad and I were living near the border of Montana. He was the night hand for a cattle ranch. He’d been doing well there, better than at the previous ranch, anyway. One day we went into town, and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. My winter coat was too small, and the elbows were worn, so I told him I wanted a new winter coat. As we walked through town on our way to the clothing store, I remember pressing my nose to the jeweler’s. There was a heart-shaped necklace in the window, and in the center was my birthstone. Tiny diamonds surrounded it. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.”

  “What’s your birthstone?” He could picture her as a young girl with big eyes for a necklace.

  “Aquamarine.” She motioned for him to give her the next strand. “I must have drooled a little too much, because Dad noticed. He asked me if I liked it, but I couldn’t bring myself to say yes. Money was always in short supply, and I really needed a coat.”

  “I can relate to that,” he said. “Having clothes that fit was an issue for me most of my life, too. So what happened?”

  “We found a new coat on clearance, and I was relieved, but part of me couldn’t stop thinking about the necklace. On Christmas morning, I ran out to our little tree in the living room of our cabin. Dad was smiling, and he held out a small paper bag. It was the necklace.”

  She paused, the lights dangling from her hands, and stared dreamily at the tree.

  The story choked him up in a good way. He was glad she had nice memories.

  She sighed, but rather than adding to the joy of the moment, it sounded sad.

  “He went out that night. Didn’t come home until the next afternoon. When I was in the shower, he snuck into my room and stole the necklace. Then he left again. I looked everywhere for it until it hit me he’d taken it. I didn’t want to be right, but I was. He’d hocked it. It broke my heart, Marshall. My dad could be the best and the worst, the same as my thirteenth Christmas was.”

  He took the lights out of her hands and drew her into his arms. Rested his chin on the top of her head. Her soft hair teased his neck. He wanted to take away the bad memories. Confront her father and smack him upside the head. He wanted...

  “I’m sorry, Ainsley. I wish no one had ever let you down, especially your dad.”

  She took two steps back, ducking her chin. “I learned to rely on myself.”

  “You don’t have to do it all alone, though.”

  Her laugh sounded brittle. “I guess you don’t know me at all. Alone is my middle name.”

  He frowned. How was he supposed to reply to that? He couldn’t. In many ways his middle name was the same. Well, that wasn’t true. He had Belle. He’d always had Belle, even when they weren’t together.

  “I think your middle name should be changed.” He looked into her eyes. “To generous. Special.”

  She blinked up at him. “I think I’d better stick with alone.”

  He stepped back, unexpectedly hurt by her words. He could take a hint. If she wanted to be alone, he’d honor her wishes, even if it went against everything he felt for her. They didn’t have a future together. He knew it. She knew it. And he’d better get it through his thick skull before he did something stupid like fall in love with her.

  Chapter Nine

  Ainsley’s arm brushed Marshall’s as she reached for the hymnal the next morning. A skittering sensation rippled over her skin. She scooted an inch away. There was no sense in being closer to the man than necessary. And if an innocent touch was affecting her this much, she’d be smart to move even farther away. She didn’t, though. Flipping through the book, she passed the hymn and carefully backtracked, peeking over at Marshall. He wore a button-down shirt with jeans and cowboy boots. If she had to pick the ideal guy to attend church with, Marshall fit the criteria. He was different from the men she’d known. Different from her father.

  Marshall was reliable. Trustworthy.

  The piano plucked out a spirited tune, and she focused on the words of the first verse. But her mind wandered to the past. To the days when she’d believed her dad was invincible. He’d been her hero. He’d let her down plenty as a child, but he’d also found ways to come through for her, no matter how small. She’d loved him so much.

  As the congregation began to sing, her chest grew tight. She didn’t attempt to sing along. The past was determined to consume her mind today.

  When had her father gotten worse with his drinking? By the time she’d turned eight, for sure. Maybe she’d noticed it more, or his circumstances could have been harder. Regardless, things had changed. His weekend binges turned into nightly disappearances. Her mother lost every morsel of joy—her mouth had thinned to a permanent tight line
.

  Ainsley had known her dad had a problem with alcohol. When he was home and drinking, he turned into a different person. An angry person who frightened her or a sobbing mess she pitied. The guys her father worked with all thought he was great—a stand-up guy who drank too much at times.

  After her mother left, Ainsley had been his keeper. She’d lived with constant anxiety, little sleep and the daily fear he would drive home drunk and either kill someone or die himself. She never had friends over. She really hadn’t had friends at all. She’d constantly been hiding his problem.

  She’d always thought if she could get rid of all the alcohol—if she could get him to stop drinking—everything would be all right. She’d get him clean. Save him from himself.

  What a laugh that had been.

  She’d helped him get sober more than once. He’d always gone back to drinking.

  The day she’d finally left had been excruciating. For most of her life she’d been convinced he would die if she wasn’t around. The minute she’d driven away, the dam of emotion she’d repressed most of her childhood had gushed out, and it had taken months to get to a point where she didn’t worry about him every minute.

  She still worried about him at times.

  For the past couple of years, she’d slept peacefully, no longer worried about how to pay the bills, protect herself from his angry words or question if she’d done a good enough job hiding the few things she valued. The late-night stumbling, rage and the uncontrollable sobbing of a nearly broken man were things of the past. She no longer tiptoed around trying to prevent her father from destroying himself.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She did. She still cared.

  She just couldn’t fix him.

  And she could freely admit she’d been addicted to saving her dad the same way he was addicted to the bottle.

  Her eyes welled up, and she shut the hymnal and sat back, forcing her lungs to take deep breaths. Why was she thinking about this now, anyhow? She’d dealt with it. Moved on. She didn’t need to cry about him.