If he could take a snapshot of one moment to represent everything about his sister he’d missed since she’d given birth, this would be it. Harmony. Quality time with her. Marshall poked Belle as she dumped brown sugar into the bowl of yams. She gave him the death glare, but a smile teased her lips. In the background, television announcers introduced another float in the parade, and Ainsley’s and Raleigh’s voices could just be made out from the living room.
“What next?” With a knife, Marshall scraped the chopped potatoes into a large pan.
“You can cut up the herbs for the dressing while I finish these yams.” Belle sprinkled some ginger and cinnamon into the bowl. “Thanks for helping, Marsh.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing, Belle.” He peered around the corner to check on Ainsley. Well, that was stretching the truth. He liked feeding the babies with Ainsley. She’d set one of the girls on a blanket on the floor. Raleigh stood over them, his face perplexed as he rubbed his chin. She took a fresh diaper and laid it next to the baby. Then she pointed for him to hand her a wipe. After cleaning up the child, she put the new diaper on, snapped the coverall shut and cradled her to her chest. He heard her say, “Now you try it.”
“Are you going to stand there all day?” Belle had her sassy tone on. “Come on. Chop. Chop.”
He tore his gaze away from Raleigh, who was kneeling down, flipping the diaper and peering at the sticky tabs with a dumbfounded expression.
“Did you know your husband is changing a diaper at this very moment?” He rinsed the herbs, setting them on a paper towel to dry.
“I don’t believe you.” Belle’s eyes grew round. He nodded. She stuck her head around the cupboard, then jerked it back. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Why not?” Marshall tried to keep his tone light. The fact Raleigh hadn’t been changing diapers irritated him. Didn’t the man care they were all chipping in to help with his children?
“You know Raleigh.” She sniffed. After a few stirs, she poured the yam mixture into a baking dish.
“Not really.” Marshall didn’t pretend to know much about the man she’d married. Raleigh was a strong guy, cared about the ranch and cattle and his employees. He didn’t talk much. And he didn’t seem to support Belle the way she needed.
“Well, he’s not like Ed.”
Marshall clenched his jaw. The knife slipped from his hand, clattering into the sink. Hearing Ed’s name rattled him. Their mother’s fourth—or was it fifth?—low-life boyfriend, Ed, had moved in when they were twelve. He’d slapped Marshall around and yelled at him for no reason. Marshall could handle getting knocked about and shouted at, but he couldn’t handle the way Ed stared at Belle. He would sit too close to her. Pinch her. As the months wore on, Ed’s preoccupation with Belle increased. And Marshall’s disgust and fear and anger had magnified, too. He’d told their mother Ed was getting touchy-feely with Belle. And she hadn’t believed him. His pleas with his mother to dump Ed had been ignored.
Marshall had tried to protect Belle. He told her to run to the apartment upstairs and stay with her friend Tiffany if he wasn’t around. But the day their mother announced they were all moving into Ed’s house, Marshall realized the little protection Belle had from living in the apartment would be gone. He told his mom he’d kill Ed before moving there.
“Marsh?” Belle asked. “Are you listening?”
He cleared his mind of the troubling thoughts. “Sorry, what?”
“I love Raleigh, but I wish he didn’t expect me to be the world’s best mom. If he helped at night...oh, forget it. No sense wishing.”
“What if he did help with the babies at night?” Marshall leaned against the counter. “Would it take some of the pressure off you?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice sounded small. “I feel like I should be able to handle it on my own.”
Marshall’s muscles tensed. He still hadn’t broached the subject of not coming over on nights or Sundays. And he certainly hadn’t touched the topic of seeing a doctor. But maybe Belle was more receptive to getting help than he’d thought.
“I think you’re going through a lot more than most new parents are prepared for. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Want me to talk to Raleigh about helping with the babies at night?”
She glanced up through watery eyes and nodded.
“It will be better for you if he’s helping instead of me.” He patted the herbs dry and started cutting them. “And I’m sure you’re missing your alone time with Raleigh, too. Ainsley and I are going to be taking Sundays off from now on. That way you and Raleigh and the quads can get used to each other and you’ll have some space.”
“What? We don’t need space. We need help with the babies.”
He paused, shifting to face her. “Well, Ainsley and I need a day off.”
“Fine.” She slammed a cupboard shut. “You and Ainsley take your day off. I’ll never get a day off again, but who am I to complain? Pass me the pepper.”
“It’s not like that.” He handed her the pepper shaker.
“Then what is it like? It sure seems like history repeating itself.”
He stilled. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend getting sent to the group home wasn’t a relief. You got out. And I was stuck.”
He stepped back, shaking his head slowly. “How can you say that? The group home was a prison sentence. You know it killed me to not be with you, to not be able to protect you.”
Her eyes grew dark, hard. “Yeah, well, no one protected me. I ran away and learned to protect myself, but I can’t run away from this.” She spread her arms to take in the bottles and formula.
“Why would you want to?” He was still reeling from her accusations. He’d failed her—he’d lived with it for many years—but it still hurt hearing her say it.
“I don’t,” she said too quickly. “I love the children.”
“Then why would you say it?”
“You know me.” She flushed. “I say stupid stuff sometimes. Forget it. Let’s leave the past behind us and enjoy today.”
He closed the gap between them and hugged her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. It still hurts me, Belle. More than you’ll ever know.”
“I needed you, Marsh.” She stepped back. “Not just because of Ed... I needed my brother.”
“I needed you, too. And I’ll always be here for you.” He resumed chopping the herbs, although with more force than before. The hum of the microwave halted with a beep.
Ainsley approached with flushed cheeks and sparkly eyes. “Can I squeeze in to warm up some bottles?”
“Of course.” Marshall moved aside. She wore a green sweater and formfitting jeans. Her hair was loosely braided to the side. She looked fresh and pretty.
“Everything okay out there?” Belle asked.
“Oh, yes. Max is entertaining his daddy.” Ainsley’s face glowed. She sure looked happy. “Mmm...it smells so good in here. Thanks for making dinner. I can’t wait until it’s ready.”
“Should be an hour or so.” Belle’s tone set Marshall back.
Did his sister have a problem with Ainsley? Belle’s reactions and emotions had been all over the place for weeks. He didn’t know what to think. But at least he’d come through on one of his promises to Ainsley. They now had Sundays off. And with her showing Raleigh the basics, Raleigh could help Belle if she needed it at night.
As for talking to his sister about seeing a doctor, it wasn’t necessary. Obviously, Belle was nervous about taking care of four babies. And after surviving their childhood, Marshall couldn’t blame her. With some time and patience, Belle would be back to herself. And maybe someday she’d forgive him for not being around when she’d needed him the most.
* * *
“I married the finest cook in Wyoming.” Raleigh beamed at Belle. “Would you pass the turkey, please?”
Ainsley glanced back and forth between Belle and Raleigh and let out a sigh of relief. Thanksgiving was going well. They seemed to be enjoying each other, unlike yesterday when Raleigh had stopped in during the afternoon. Belle had been in her room resting, and he’d gone to check on her. Within minutes, Belle had started shouting at him, and he’d stormed out, his face set, and retreated to the barn or wherever he went after one of their fights.
Ben squirmed in Ainsley’s arms, and she shifted him, smiling at his adorable face. He’d been fussy all morning. With the other three babies napping, Ainsley had decided to hold him during dinner.
“Everything is delicious.” She peeked at Marshall, who was buttering a roll. He met her eyes and smiled. Her cheeks grew as warm as the piping-hot food on the table.
“Thank you,” Belle said. “And thanks, Marshall, for helping me. You might have overdone it on the sage, but the dressing is still mouthwatering.”
Ben made a noise, screwing up his little face. He’d been unhappy most of the day, and Ainsley couldn’t figure out why.
“Is he all right? Does he need a bottle?” Raleigh sounded gruff but concerned.
“He’s fine. A little fussy. He might have a tummy ache.” Ainsley shifted the boy to burp him. She gently patted his back and stole a bite of food when she could.
“Should I call the doctor?” Belle had paled.
Ainsley waved her concern away. “No, no. This is normal. Some babies fuss all day long. And if they have colic, they cry nonstop. This is nothing to worry about.”
“Well, when should we worry?” Belle gripped the fork in her hands, her knuckles turning white.
Why was Belle so tense? Ainsley ran her hand over Ben’s fuzzy hair. “If one of the babies has a fever, isn’t eating, is lethargic—basically if they seem like they aren’t themselves—that’s when you call a doctor.”
One of the babies cried from the other room. Belle, still pale, didn’t move. Raleigh covered her hand with his. “It’s okay, I’ve got this one. You cooked all morning. Sit and enjoy the meal.”
Belle’s eyes grew wider than a full moon, and Ainsley almost chuckled. She met Marshall’s gaze, which told her he was as surprised as she was. Moments later, Raleigh returned holding Grace like she was made of glass.
“Should I feed her?” Raleigh didn’t look comfortable.
Ainsley didn’t need to check the chart to know Grace had taken a bottle an hour prior with the other babies. “No, try a binkie.”
Marshall stood, clapping Raleigh on the shoulder. “I’ll get her a pacifier.”
“Thanks.” Relief chased away the concern as he smiled down at Grace. “Smelling all this food woke you up, didn’t it, pretty girl? Just wait until you get to eat your mama’s home cooking.”
Ben had stopped fussing, so Ainsley tucked him in the crook of her arm. She continued eating the turkey and mashed potatoes on her plate. She’d steered clear of the cranberry relish. An unfortunate incident with a canned version as a child had turned her off from the jellylike dish for life.
Marshall returned and handed Raleigh the pacifier. Grace instantly settled down.
“Well, will you look at that.” Raleigh sounded delightfully surprised.
They all resumed eating. The atmosphere in the house was so pleasant for once. Ainsley couldn’t think of anywhere she’d rather be than right here to celebrate the holiday. For a brief moment she wondered what her father was doing now. As far as she knew, he wandered the countryside as a cowboy for hire.
If she had to guess, he was eating a frozen turkey dinner and then holing up at a local bar until closing time. Holidays had never been his strong suit. What had been, really?
He tried, Ainsley. There were times he tried. He taught you how to ride horses, made sure you took driver’s training and even came to one of your high school volleyball games.
She blinked away sudden tears, wishing his life could have turned out differently and that she could still be in it.
“Ainsley, would you like another roll?” Marshall held out a basket to her.
“No, thank you.” She inhaled, shaking her head politely. She knew better than to think about the past. It was better to focus on the present. Holding a baby and eating a real turkey dinner was a vast improvement from most of her Thanksgivings, including the previous two years when she’d waited tables.
When she’d been younger, she’d had fantasies about celebrating with a large extended family and playing games and watching Christmas movies all afternoon. Today was the closest she’d gotten to that fantasy.
“What do you all do after dinner?” Ainsley asked. “Do you have any traditions?”
Belle met Raleigh’s gaze and a grin spread across her face. He groaned.
“We always play a game.” Belle’s nose scrunched in mischief.
“Can we please skip it this year?” Raleigh rolled his eyes.
“Not the Thanksgiving charades again, Belle.” Marshall ducked his chin, shaking his head. “Please, spare us from pretending to be turkeys.”
“Fine, although I still say you both did an excellent job.” She studied her fingernails a moment, then clapped her hands. “I’ve got it! We’ll play Thanksgiving Would You Rather.”
Ainsley straightened, her heartbeat accelerating. This was more like it. They actually played games! This was going to be fun.
“I’ll tell you what I’d rather.” Raleigh kept his voice quiet as he held Grace. “I’d rather we didn’t play games and watched football instead.”
“Too bad.” Belle blew him a kiss. Raleigh’s eyes were full of love as he grinned.
Ainsley turned her concentration to Ben, who’d fallen asleep in her arms. For all Belle’s faults, Ainsley had to give it to her—she didn’t lack guts. In fact, Ainsley wouldn’t mind having a little of her confidence when it came to men.
“Well, pretty mama, you’re on my team, then.” Raleigh’s stare challenged Belle.
“You got it.” Belle looked at Marshall, then Ainsley. “You two up for this?”
Marshall guffawed. “Oh, we’re up to it, sis. Aren’t we, Ainsley?”
She gulped and nodded. She hadn’t thought she’d be paired with Marshall. A little competition between the men and the women would have suited her just fine.
Hopefully, the game didn’t require much physical interaction. Marshall already appealed to her too much. Her whole life was wrapped up in Laramie, not with a cowboy in Sweet Dreams.
But what would be the harm of a little Thanksgiving fun?
* * *
Whose idea had this been again?
“One more round!” Belle insisted.
Marshall looked at his sister’s laughing face and at Ainsley’s perplexed expression and shook his head. He was glad Ainsley could see this side of his sister. The funny, confident side. They’d eaten pumpkin pie with gobs of whipped cream earlier, and daylight was beginning to fade.
“Come on, Marsh, you have to answer.” Belle pointed to him. “Would you rather pluck a Thanksgiving turkey or sleep with a snake?”
“What kind of question is that?” Raleigh slung his arm over her shoulders. “No one wants to sleep with a snake.”
“I would. I’d choose the snake any day.” Marshall shuddered. “Raw poultry gives me the creeps.”
“Okay, okay,” Belle said when the laughter died, “Ainsley’s turn.”
Marshall couldn’t wait to hear what question Raleigh and Belle came up with. Ainsley fiddled with the hem of her sweater. So far her answers had been enlightening, and he found himself wanting to know more about her.
Belle opened her hands. “Would you rather soak your feet in mashed potatoes or wash your face with gravy?”
Ainsley laughed and shook her head. “You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”
“Rules are rules.” Belle’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Well, that’s a hard one.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “I guess I’d rather soak my feet in mashed potatoes. I think the gravy would destroy my complexion.”
They all laughed.
“Okay, Ainsley, it’s our turn.” Marshall scooted closer to her on the couch and kept his voice quiet so Belle and Raleigh couldn’t hear. “What should we ask?”
“Remember, it has to relate to Thanksgiving,” Belle said loudly, leaning forward.
As if they needed the reminder. He almost glared at her, but he refrained.
“This one’s for Raleigh, so we should make it cooking related,” Ainsley said quietly. “Belle said he only grills.”
“Got it!” Marshall lifted his index finger. He whispered the idea in Ainsley’s ear. Her perfume suited her, and her soft hair brushed his cheek.
She nodded, her eyes wide. “Yes. Perfect.”
“Would you rather cook a Thanksgiving feast early-settler style—no oven—or clean all the dishes afterward without modern conveniences?”
Raleigh frowned. “Cooking without an oven would require an open fire. And I like tending fires. Doing dishes without dish soap or running water sounds rough. I’d take the cooking.”
“What if you were cooking indoors where it was five hundred degrees?” Belle asked. “Didn’t they have outbuildings they used for kitchens back then?”
“That changes things.” He pretended to shiver. “Give me a trough and hot water and I’ll do the dishes. I’m best outdoors.”
Two of the babies started waking up. Ainsley excused herself to get the bottles. Marshall followed her.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“More than you know,” she said. “This has been the best Thanksgiving...ever.”
“Ever? Now I know you’re joking.” He scrambled to come up with an explanation, but one look in her earnest eyes told him he was wrong. She meant it. Didn’t she have family? “It can’t be the best.”
“It can. And it is.” She blinked those green-gold eyes his way. After warming two bottles, she handed them to Marshall. “Will you take these to Belle and Raleigh? I’ll warm the other two up and be right there.”
“It’s getting late.” He held the bottles but shifted from one foot to the other. “Why don’t we take off? They can feed the quadruplets by themselves. Let’s leave them to it.”
She nodded. “Sure.”
He studied her a moment. She seemed down all of a sudden. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” She shook her head, her braid swishing behind her. “I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“I usually work through Thanksgiving Day.”
“And we made you work today...” He wanted to kick himself. Why hadn’t he told her she could have the day off?
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “This was a real Thanksgiving. I wasn’t waiting tables. I got to hold a baby and eat a fantastic dinner with great people. And I thoroughly enjoyed the games. Don’t laugh, but I’m a little sad to see it end.”
The fact she enjoyed his family as much as he did warmed him down to his toes.
“It doesn’t have to end.” He tilted his head. “We can stay here...”
“No, no, you’re right. Let’s give them some privacy.”
He jutted his jaw out, an idea forming. “How about we snag a couple of pieces of pie and head back to my place for a while?”
She blinked, her face glowing. “I’d like that. Except, let’s make it my place. I insist.”
“Deal.” He held up the bottles. “I’ll drop these off and be back for the others lickety-split.”
Her laugh filled the air, and he knew he was grinning like a fool but didn’t care. He headed back to the living room, told Raleigh and Belle that he and Ainsley were taking off, and loped back to the kitchen as Ainsley finished heating the other bottles. He delivered them to the living room, as well.
A few minutes later, after thanking Belle for the mouthwatering meal and layering on their coats, Marshall escorted Ainsley out the back door to their cabins. He held a plate with two slices of pie. The weather was cold, the wind bitter, but he didn’t mind. The faint glow of the sun on the horizon was all that remained of daylight.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me coming over?” He glanced Ainsley’s way. Her chin was tucked against the wind.
“I want you to.”
Four simple words. That was all it took to put an extra spring in his step. She wants me here. He imagined this was how a teacher’s pet felt or the guy who caught the eye of the homecoming queen in high school. Marshall had never been the teacher’s pet or anyone’s favorite. He wouldn’t mind being Ainsley’s.
They approached her cabin, and, after she unlocked it, he held the door open for her.
They hung up their coats and he jerked his thumb to the fireplace. “Want me to start a fire?”
“Yes, please. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”
Within minutes, crackling sounds from the fire and the aroma of coffee filled the air. Ainsley tucked her feet under her body on the end of the couch, and Marshall sat on the other end. He tapped his jeans with his hand as one thought bothered him.
“Did we keep you from your family today?” he blurted out.
“What?” She frowned, then brightened. “No, not even close.”
He knew so little about her, and he wanted to learn more. “You don’t celebrate Thanksgiving with them?”
“I don’t have much family.” Her gaze was trained on the fireplace. “Mom left when I was younger. And I haven’t seen my father in about three years. I never met my grandparents. I have no siblings.”
“Why haven’t you seen your dad?” He tried to add up her family situation, but no matter how he did, it wasn’t a pretty picture.
“He’s an alcoholic.” She sighed, her chin dipping. “We had an unhealthy relationship.”
“How unhealthy?”
She gave him a small smile. “Bad enough for me to walk away and never come back.”
“Did he... Was he...” Marshall didn’t know how to ask it. He worried she’d been abused.
“He was a drunk and he got mean sometimes, but my physical health wasn’t in jeopardy, if that’s what you’re concerned about. We had a codependent relationship. And it was holding me back. Curdling my heart.”
“I’m sorry, Ainsley.”
“I am, too.” She didn’t seem eager to say any more about the topic. “What about you? I assume you and Belle have always spent the holidays together.”
“I wish.” He turned to stare at the fire once more. “We didn’t see each other for five years when we were teens.”
“That’s awful! What happened?”
Emotion pressed against his chest. He didn’t tell people about this part of his life. Sure, his best friends, Wade, Clint and Nash, knew, but... He snuck a peek at Ainsley. Her big eyes gleamed with compassion. He wanted her to know. Didn’t need to keep it a secret.
“I grew up in Casper. Mom had a string of boyfriends who lived with us. Ed moved in when we were twelve. He was abusive. Mom didn’t see it. Or she didn’t want to see it. I don’t know. I was stupid and thought she’d get a clue if I took matters into my own hands. The next year when she told us we were moving out of our apartment and into Ed’s house, I told her I’d kill him first. Got a knife from the kitchen and everything. A week later I was sent to Yearling Group Home for teen boys here in Sweet Dreams. I never saw my mother again.”
“Oh, Marshall. I’m so sorry.” She sounded distraught, and her hand covered her chest. “What about Belle?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Within six months she had run away. It’s a long story and not mine to tell, but Belle lived with a few foster families after that.”
The fire crackled, warming the room.
“You wouldn’t have killed him. She must have known that.” Her stare held no judgment.
“I don’t think of myself as a murderer, but, truthfully, I don’t know. I hated Ed. Hated that I couldn’t protect myself or my sister from him.” He stood, stopping in front of the fireplace. “It’s in the past, so I’m leaving it there. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload it on you. I figured we’d eat some pie and share happy stories.”
Ainsley rose and joined him, setting her hand on his sleeve. “Don’t apologize. I think we all have hard stuff in our pasts. At least you and Belle have each other now.”
“Yeah, well, I still didn’t mean to ruin your Thanksgiving.”
“You didn’t. I meant what I said earlier. This is the nicest Thanksgiving I can remember.”
He looked at her beautiful face, glowing in the firelight, and wanted to pull her into his arms.
Holding her was one thing, but holding on to her was another. Whenever he tried to keep his loved ones safe and close by, he found a way to ruin it.
He stepped back. He was better off not getting too close. Then he’d have nothing to lose.