Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets Page 7

  Ainsley couldn’t stop staring at the adorable child. She looked so cute putting stickers on a paper. Every now and then she would glance up at her dark-haired mommy with a big smile. The girl reminded Ainsley of herself at that age, except her mother and father never brought her to church.

  “What about your other friend, Wade?” Ainsley looked around for a single man about Marshall’s age. A few guys seemed to fit.

  “I haven’t seen Wade in church since we were at Yearling Group Home together.”

  Ainsley frowned. How sad. The pastor started the service then, and she got lost in the beautiful hymns and sermon.

  A pause was taken for silent prayers. Thank You, Lord, for the opportunity to take care of the quadruplets. Please open Marshall’s friend Wade’s heart to a relationship with You and bring Marshall to church regularly.

  The need to pray for something else tugged on her subconscious.

  She hadn’t thought about nursing school or the hospital job in over a week. She could chalk it up to the unrelenting focus of caring for infants, but she refused to lie to herself. The babies weren’t taking her mind off her goals. Marshall was.

  She’d never had a male friend before. Eating dinner with him every night was not only relaxing, it was fun. They got along well. He was easy to talk to.

  Face it, Ainsley, he’s a distraction.

  She’d worked too hard and for too long to let anything budge her from becoming a nurse. Please let the hospital look at my application with favor so I can land the job. And let me be accepted into nursing school.

  As the service wrapped up, she felt confident God was holding her in His arms and steering her on the path she’d chosen after leaving her father. The people she’d loved might have let her down, but God wouldn’t. God would never let her down.

  Her thoughts turned to Belle, and she brought her hand to her heart, almost gasping.

  She hadn’t prayed for Belle—not once since she’d met her.

  And who needed her prayers more than the mother of those dear babies?

  Lord, please convince Belle to get the medical help she needs and fill her with the desire to mother the infants. And grant me patience with her.

  She didn’t want the quadruplets to grow up without a loving mother. If praying would change Belle’s heart, she’d keep doing it. Gladly.

  * * *

  “It’s good to see you, slick.” Dottie Lavert set laminated menus on the table of the booth and turned to Ainsley. “How are the babies, peaches? I’m sure their mama appreciates the extra hands.”

  Marshall shook his head. He’d never understood Dottie’s nickname for him. And where did peaches come from? He peeked at Ainsley. She did have a sweet, wholesome look about her. He certainly hoped Belle appreciated Ainsley’s extra hands. He knew he did.

  “The babies are really sweet.” Ainsley’s smile was bright and genuine. She didn’t seem fazed by the nickname. She nodded to the menu. “What do you recommend?”

  “What are you hungry for?” Dottie’s silver hair was twisted up in the back, and poufy bangs curved over her forehead. She was a plump woman with a heart of gold. “The omelets will fill you right up, but the waffles will tickle your taste buds.”

  “I’ll have the waffles.” Ainsley snapped her menu shut.

  He liked a woman who knew her mind. He smiled at Dottie. “And I’ll have the Western omelet.”

  “Comin’ right up.” Dottie winked and left.

  Ainsley tore two sugar packets and dumped them into her coffee. “Your friends all seemed nice.”

  Marshall had introduced her to them after church, and he was relieved Ainsley approved.

  She stirred the sugar into the brew. “How long have Clint and Lexi been together?”

  “About a year.” He took a sip of the black coffee. Hot and strong, the way he liked it.

  “Ruby is a cutie pie.”

  “She has us all wrapped around her little finger. It’s good to see her so talkative.”

  “What do you mean?” Her eyebrows drew together.

  “Before Ruby went to live with Nash and Amy, she’d been neglected. Nash hadn’t known she existed.”

  “The poor, dear thing.” Ainsley’s tone reeled with anguish.

  “Yeah, we’re all happy she’s here.”

  She got a faraway look in her eyes. “I looked like her when I was little. Blond hair, skinny.” She dipped her chin for a moment. “Seeing her brought back memories.”

  “Good ones?”

  “Some.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  He wished all her memories were good. “And the others?”

  She gave her head a soft shake, her hair spilling over her shoulders in the process.

  “I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t have pressed her, knowing she’d cut ties with her dad.

  His own memories weren’t worth dwelling on either. He’d been such a naive kid. Why had he ever believed his mom would stick up for them? Best to shove his past in the back of his mind where it belonged.

  Dottie set enormous platters of food in front of them. “One order of waffles and a Western omelet. You kids holler if you need anything.”

  He looked around the retro diner with its vinyl booths and stools, the long counter filled with the Sunday crowd. The sound of conversations, laughter and a cook barking out orders filled the air. A place like this was no place to get stuck in rotten childhood memories.

  “It’s our day off, and we’re going to enjoy it.” He reached for the saltshaker. “Prepare yourself for a stick-to-your-ribs breakfast. After that, I’ll take you wherever you’d like.”

  Her lips curved up. “Thanks, Marshall.”

  Hearing his name on her lips made his heart wobble. “You’re welcome.”

  Wobbly hearts were no good. It meant he’d begun to care about her, and caring brought responsibilities. He couldn’t be there for Ainsley and Belle, not when Ainsley planned on leaving in a few weeks.

  Maybe it was good she had a life in Laramie that didn’t include the quadruplets or him. Then he wouldn’t have to make impossible decisions, and life would continue the way it was.

  * * *

  Sweet Dreams was messing with her head. The more time Ainsley spent with Marshall, the more she was losing her grip on her emotions.

  She’d put her mother’s abandonment behind her. She’d moved on from her guilt about her father. And she no longer thought about the little girl she’d been. So why were these issues bubbling up like the vinegar and baking soda volcano she’d made for the science fair as a kid?

  “Here we are. It’s not exactly a shopping mecca, but you should be able to find most of your list in here.” Marshall pushed the shopping cart toward the produce aisle in Sweet Dreams Groceries. Ainsley stayed close to him. Her pants felt ready to burst from the delectable waffles she’d overindulged in. The breakfast she’d polished off an hour ago was the least of her problems, though.

  Ainsley Draper did not mourn the lonely child she’d been. She didn’t dwell on her father’s problems. Not anymore. And she certainly didn’t fall for caring, attractive cowboys who actually liked her enough to want to cheer her up.

  Well, she’d never met a gorgeous cowboy who wanted to cheer her up before, so maybe that was part of the issue.

  Your emotions don’t control you, Ainsley. You control them. So take your shopping list out of your purse and get it together already!

  After taking a deep breath, she calmly unfolded her list and started adding apples and navel oranges to the cart. When they finished selecting vegetables, they continued through the meat and dairy sections.

  “I need to find the breakfast items and the baking section.” She tried not to notice the man next to her, but something about his strong, calloused hands on the bar of the cart mesmerized her. The same hands that gently changed the babies’ di
apers also worked hard on a demanding ranch. Marshall had a quiet strength.

  “Baking, huh?” He grinned her way. “Sounds good.”

  “It’s not what you think.” She walked tall, feeling brighter. “It’s for my Christmas decorations.”

  “You bake your decorations?”

  “Yes, I make gingerbread ornaments every year, and I’ll be starting them this afternoon.” She couldn’t remember when she’d wanted to make them as much as she did now.

  “You need some help?” He turned down the cereal aisle.

  Did she need help? She almost laughed. She’d been making them on her own for thirteen years. No one had ever helped before.

  The thought almost stopped her in her tracks.

  No one had helped her because she’d had no one close enough to want to be involved. Her roommate, Tara Epworth, would have pitched in last year, but she worked full-time and went to school, leaving no hours for fun.

  Did Ainsley want help? She shot him a sideways glance. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  He tossed a box of chocolate cereal in the cart. “Not really. Raleigh would love it if I was out riding pasture all day, but...”

  She chuckled, then bit her lower lip. Maybe having a helper wouldn’t be the worst thing.

  “I don’t blame you if you want to be alone.” He stopped in front of the granola bars and searched for the box he wanted. He selected peanut butter with chocolate chips.

  She debated how to answer.

  “I’ve got things to catch up on, anyhow,” he said, sounding regretful.

  “Like what?” She tilted her head, watching his reaction.

  He faced her and blinked. A sheepish grin spread across his face.

  “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

  “Of course you can help.” She waved his words away. “And in the meantime, I have a bunch of Christmas items I need to find.”

  “I think we’ll find the Christmas stuff this way.” He pointed to the left.

  They wound their way through the store, and Ainsley filled the cart with two boxes of white Christmas lights, a tabletop artificial tree, candy canes, sparkly white ribbon and an inexpensive silver star for the tree topper.

  When they’d checked out, they loaded their goodies into Marshall’s truck and hopped inside to escape the wind. Ainsley blew on her hands as Marshall started the vehicle and reached behind her headrest to back out of the spot. His wrist was close to her cheek. Her pulse took off.

  This wasn’t just a friend she’d been hanging out with. Marshall was an attractive man—not only physically but inside, as well. She shouldn’t have told him he could help. Wasn’t she supposed to be focused on her agenda? The one where she drove off at the end of December, got the job in the ICU and hunkered down to get her nursing degree?

  Well, one afternoon wouldn’t destroy her plans.

  At least, she hoped it wouldn’t.

  If she was wrong, something told her making gingerbread decorations with Marshall this afternoon would be the best mistake she ever made.

  Chapter Six

  Fifteen minutes—he’d pop in and check on Belle and the babies for fifteen minutes—that was it. Marshall hurried along the path to the main house. Ainsley had said they needed Sundays off, and he agreed. But this wasn’t breaking the rules; this was visiting his loved ones. Wasn’t that what people did on their days off? And, anyway, he had an entire hour before Ainsley expected him at her cabin. Earlier he’d helped unload her supplies and promised to come back at four so she could have some time to herself before they baked.

  He was more excited about the prospect than he cared to admit.

  Spending time with Ainsley filled an emptiness he hadn’t been aware of before she’d arrived on the ranch. He’d never thought of himself as lonely, but maybe he hadn’t realized it. It made sense. He’d been living with Belle in Cheyenne since they’d turned eighteen. Three years ago, after Belle and Raleigh had married and Belle moved to Sweet Dreams, Marshall’s social calendar had emptied. Since then, Decembers had been low on the holiday cheer scale for him. If it hadn’t been for his job in Cheyenne, he probably would have moved back to Sweet Dreams sooner.

  After two knocks on the back door, Marshall let himself in and headed to the living room. Raleigh was kneeling on the floor, changing Grace’s diaper. Lila grunted in her bouncy seat, and Ben fussed in discomfort.

  “Hey, Raleigh, how are the munchkins doing?” Marshall bent to pick up Ben, who was about to cry. Cradling the boy, he tapped his nose. “You don’t need to cry, cowboy. Uncle Marsh has you.”

  “How does it look like they’re doing?” Raleigh snapped, glaring up at him. “Her diaper leaked, and I’ve gone through half a box of wipes trying to clean it up.” He waved toward the pile of used wipes next to him. “I don’t care if this outfit can be saved. I’m trashing it.”

  Marshall pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Raleigh’s face had grown brick red, and his jerky movements were clearly not soothing Grace, who squirmed beneath his touch.

  “Want me to get another outfit for her?” Holding Ben in one arm, he nodded in the direction of the bedroom.

  “What I want is for my wife to get out of bed. It’s bad enough I’m up half the night with these four—I can’t do this all day Sunday, too. I’ve got cattle to feed. Fence to check. Need to see if a heifer is acting suspicious today...” Raleigh unfolded a fresh diaper and tucked it under Grace. In his haste he ripped the sticker tab off the diaper. “I can’t do this anymore!” Raleigh abruptly stood and marched out of the room. The slam of the back door echoed in Marshall’s ears.

  What had just happened? He looked down at Grace, sucking on her fist and happily kicking her bare legs in the air. Lila continued to grunt. Ben wasn’t crying, but he was squirmy and unhappy. Max sat there taking it all in. Marshall let out a long sigh and went to the babies’ room for a new outfit for Grace. Then he laid Ben down next to her. The boy didn’t like that and let out a howl. Marshall rolled him onto his tummy, and he immediately quieted.

  After putting a new outfit on Grace, Marshall changed Lila. Max was fine, but Ben got cranky at the tummy time, so Marshall strapped him and the girls back into their bouncy seats. In the kitchen, he found the feeding chart. The last entry had been by Ainsley at 5:00 p.m. yesterday.

  A burst of annoyance shot through his brain. Ainsley had gone to the trouble of creating these charts to make life easier on Raleigh and Belle, yet neither of them could be bothered to use them? And big deal Raleigh had to change a particularly nasty diaper. Marshall and Ainsley had done the same thing countless times. Neither of them had run out the door. Talk about immature.

  He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Raleigh. No answer.

  Irritation spiraled through his body, tensing his muscles. He could text Raleigh, but what would be the point?

  Then another thought occurred. If Raleigh didn’t come back, who would take care of the children?

  Marshall looked at the bedroom door where Belle had undoubtedly locked herself away. His irritation turned into full-blown anger.

  This was his day off.

  Marshall had a date—er, appointment—to help Ainsley bake gingerbread, and he would be there at four even if it meant dragging his sister out of bed and riding out to pasture to lasso Raleigh himself.

  No more Mr. Nice Guy.

  He quickly warmed four bottles and returned to the living room. It took a minute to prop the bottles for all the babies. Then he strode down the hall and knocked firmly on Belle’s door. Once. Twice.

  No answer.

  He pounded on it. “Belle, open up!”

  “What?” She cracked the door and glared. “What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is your husband ran off to pasture and left me to watch the babies.”

  �
��So?”

  He wanted to push the door open but refrained. “So, it’s my day off. Now get out here.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” Her biting tone usually made him back down.

  “Don’t treat me like your servant.”

  She opened the door wide as her chin rose to its haughtiest level. “How dare you.”

  “How dare you.” He widened his stance, glowering at her.

  “Me? What have I done?”

  “Nothing. And that’s the problem.” He took in the dark spots under her eyes and the lines around her mouth. Worry lines. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Come out here and take care of them.”

  “By myself?” She looked at him as if he’d suggested skydiving without a parachute.

  “Why not?” He’d been doing it. Ainsley had been doing it. Even Raleigh had been doing it. Why couldn’t his sister—the babies’ mother—watch them on her own? Ainsley’s warning came to mind. “I think your sister has postpartum depression...nothing to mess around with...”

  He instantly deflated. “Belle, when’s your next doctor’s appointment?”

  Her gaze fell to the floor. “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you make one?”

  “I don’t need to see a doctor.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  “You had quadruplets. I’m sure things are out of whack.”

  “Well, my body is, that’s for sure.”

  “Do you think it could be more than physical?” He cringed, hoping she’d take the hint without blowing up.

  “I’m not a mental case if that’s what you’re implying.” Two red splotches spread on her cheeks.

  “I would never imply that. But Ainsley mentioned postpartum depression...”

  “Ainsley?” She stepped toward him, getting in his face. “What does she know about anything? It’s none of her business. And last I checked she doesn’t have kids, so why are you listening to her anyhow?”

  “Something’s not right, Belle,” he said softly. “A doctor could help.”

  “If you want to help, then find Raleigh and tell him to get back here.”