Читать книгу Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets - Jill Kemerer - Страница 15

Chapter Three

“We aren’t paying you to leave the babies unattended.”

Ainsley wiped her damp hands on the hand towel and counted to five. Belle had finally opted to emerge from her room, and, as Ainsley had found out repeatedly over the past week, she’d come prepared to criticize. The eight-to-six schedule had been a nice fantasy. So had getting a day off. Every morning Ainsley arrived at seven thirty and couldn’t in good conscience leave until after seven, when Marshall and Raleigh returned from their evening chores. Though Marshall helped with the babies for a few hours each morning and in the afternoon, the bulk of the care fell to her. She wouldn’t mind, but Belle rarely touched the infants, and being treated like the hired help was getting old.

“I had to use the bathroom.” She walked by Belle, who stood with one hip jutted out and a sour expression on her face. Ben started fussing. She mustered the last scraps of her patience. “The babies are about ready to eat. Why don’t you sit on the couch, and I’ll hand the boys to you?”

“Why the boys? Why not the girls?” Belle backed up a step, alarm running a fifty-meter dash in her eyes. Ainsley was too tired to feel sympathetic. Max let out a whimper, and Ben’s fussing turned into crying. She’d tried to engage Belle many times since arriving last week, but she’d yet to see Belle holding a baby. Ainsley kept trying, though.

“Fine. I’ll bring the girls to you. Let me warm their bottles. I’ll be right back.” She trudged to the kitchen and took out four bottles from the refrigerator. The sound of Grace joining the crying made her lean her elbows on the counter and drop her head. She’d learned the hard way that crying was contagious. The longer it went on, the harder it was to contain. It took everything inside her not to yell to Belle to pick up one of the babies and try to comfort them.

The woman had zero baby skills.

Or maybe she had no confidence.

Either way, Ainsley wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. Don’t you want to be their mother? What is wrong with you?

From the living room, she heard Lila’s little cry. Lord, this is bad if even sweet Lila is crying. Why am I here? I can’t make a difference if their mother refuses to hold them. What will happen after the holidays when I leave?

As she warmed the bottles, tension gripped her throat. The babies’ cries grew more insistent. She tested two of the bottles—lukewarm—and marched back to the living room, ready to force Belle to feed a set of twins if need be.

But one look at the woman and she halted. Belle stood over the bouncy seats with her hands down by her sides. A trail of tears rushed down her cheeks, and her fingers were trembling.

How had Ainsley missed it?

Belle wasn’t an ambivalent mother. And this wasn’t a lack of confidence—this was naked fear.

Could Belle have postpartum depression?

The truth pierced her to the core. Ainsley needed to approach her differently. She pulled her shoulders back and calmly approached Belle. Using her most soothing voice, she said, “Go ahead and sit on the couch. Lila wants her mommy.”

Belle hastily wiped her tears away. “I...I’m really tired.” She took a step toward the hall, but Ainsley blocked her way.

“I know you’re tired. Sit with Lila. She’s so cuddly. You can rest on the couch, and I’ll put the television on.”

Belle licked her cracked lips. “I don’t know—”

Ainsley put her arm around her, steered her to the couch and handed her a bottle. Then she unstrapped Lila, cooed some baby talk to her and placed her in Belle’s arms. Belle stiffened, but Ainsley pretended not to notice.

“See? She’s better already.” Ainsley said a silent prayer of thanks when Lila stopped crying. She held her breath, waiting to see if Belle would offer the bottle to the baby. She did. And visibly relaxed. “I’ll get the boys’ bottles and be right back.”

Thank You, Lord!

Ainsley rolled up receiving blankets and propped the boys’ bottles on them in their bouncy seats. They both calmed immediately. Then she picked up Grace and sat on the other couch to feed her. With the babies quiet again, Ainsley turned on the television.

“What do you like to watch?”

“I don’t care.” Belle actually smiled at Lila.

“Well, with Thanksgiving a few days away, let’s drool over the cooking shows.” She clicked to the food channel and relaxed into the couch. Grace was warm and happy, and for the first time in days, Ainsley had a sense of peace.

Postpartum depression she could deal with. The color-coding and schedule had helped tremendously, too, but things had to change around here. If they didn’t, Belle wouldn’t be able to care for the babies on her own. And Ainsley couldn’t work twelve-hour days seven days a week or she’d get burned out.

Marshall came to mind. She hadn’t asked him about it, but she suspected he stopped by regularly to help with the babies at night. They weren’t doing Belle, Raleigh or the children any favors by doing all the work. Grace finished her bottle, so Ainsley lifted her to burp her. Darling little thing. Funny how the exhaustion and frustration dissipated as soon as one of the babies was in her arms.

“What do you and Raleigh usually do for Thanksgiving?” Ainsley patted Grace’s back and glanced at Belle.

She got a faraway look in her eyes, making her appear softer. “Since neither of us has any family left, I like to make a big dinner.” Her face fell. “But I don’t know about this year. It’s all too much.”

“If we help with the babies, would you want to make the dinner?” Maybe doing something she enjoyed would get Belle in a better frame of mind.

“I...I don’t know. It’s a lot of work.” Worry lines creased her forehead.

“Yes, it is.” Ainsley didn’t want her overwhelmed. “Maybe one of the guys could help you with cooking. I’m not very good in the kitchen.”

Belle turned to face her. She seemed to perk up. “No? Well, Raleigh is hopeless unless he’s grilling. I’ll ask Marshall.”

The fact Belle automatically fell back on Marshall concerned her. It was as if he was at her beck and call.

And he never turned his sister down.

Uneasiness slithered down her spine.

Ainsley could write the book on codependent relationships. She’d been in one with her father for twenty-one years. Three years ago, she’d broken free, and she’d promised herself she’d never be in one again.

Whatever was going on with Marshall and his sister didn’t seem healthy. If he didn’t set some boundaries, Ainsley didn’t know if she could stick out this baby nurse stint to completion. She’d discuss it with him at dinner. She just hoped he’d listen—for his sake, for Belle’s and, most of all, for the babies’.

* * *

Life was finally starting to feel manageable. Marshall finished brushing his horse and led him to the stall. After feeding and watering the animal, he strode back to his cabin. High winds had left the ground dry. It was almost 7:00 p.m., and his porch light beckoned under the dark sky. Inside his cabin, he took off his winter outerwear before scrubbing his hands and checking his appearance in the bathroom mirror.

Bags hung low beneath bloodshot eyes. His scruff had grown to an unruly level. He looked terrible.

What did he expect? He hadn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep at a time since the babies had come home from the hospital. He didn’t want to tell Ainsley, but Belle called him every night at around 1:00 a.m. in a panic. And worry twisted his insides until he figured it was best to run over and get the babies settled. It didn’t take long. They’d need a change and a bottle and they’d drift back to sleep in no time.

But then he’d get a text at 5:00 a.m., as well. And since Raleigh was out feeding cattle before that, Marshall knew she was all alone. So, he’d stop in at the main house. Running back and forth between the ranch and the babies left him exhausted.

After making himself presentable, he went to the kitchen and turned on the oven. He’d thawed out barbecue pulled pork earlier. He tossed it into a baking dish and slid it along with some frozen French fries into the oven. Then he threw on his coat and went out the door. If he didn’t collect Ainsley from the main house, she’d be there all night.

Guilt slowed his pace on the path. Ainsley was working twelve-hour days. He wanted to believe Belle was doing her fair share of the baby care, but deep down, he knew she wasn’t. And since he’d been Raleigh’s right-hand man for the calf sale, he’d been unable to help as much. Thankfully, as of yesterday, all the calves had shipped, and the ranch was back to normal operations.

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.

When was the last time he’d told his sister no?

Staring out the window, he realized he rarely refused her requests.

He was so tired. Why couldn’t Belle snap out of it? And why wasn’t Raleigh caring for the babies at night already? He stole a peek at Ainsley, who wore a serene expression as she ate.

Regret punched him in the gut. Had he been taking advantage of Ainsley?

And in his rush to help Belle, had he been hurting his sister?

He closed his eyes. It was time to change things, the way Ainsley said. He just prayed Belle would forgive him.