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.”
He hated when she acted like this. So stubborn. The ticking of the clock reminded him of his appointment with Ainsley. He checked his watch. Four on the dot.
What was he supposed to do? Leave the babies with Belle and hope she’d take an interest in them until Raleigh decided he’d checked enough of the cattle to come back? Or call Ainsley and tell her he’d have to skip the gingerbread decorations?
He didn’t want to skip it.
He wanted to run out the back door and down the path to Ainsley’s cabin. It had been a couple of hours since he’d sat next to her on the pew at church. He’d felt more peaceful there than he had in a long time.
God, why does this keep happening? I keep getting stuck with the job of babysitting. I love my nieces and nephews, but this is too much. Belle and Raleigh are more than capable of handling these infants. What should I do?
The house was quiet. The babies would more than likely fall asleep soon. He wouldn’t be putting them in danger by leaving Belle with them. And it wouldn’t hurt her to spend the afternoon with them by herself.
He pulled his shoulders back and gave his sister a curt nod. “They’re taking their bottles now. They’ve all been changed. You’ll be fine.”
“But, Marshall!”
Pivoting, he marched down the hallway, paused to smile at the quads all nestled in their seats and continued through the breezeway and out the door.
Taking his phone out of his pocket, he texted Raleigh. Babies are changed and fed. Belle’s alone with them. See you tomorrow.
Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he began to whistle as he ambled down the lane. It smelled like a snowstorm was coming—the ideal time to build a fire in the fireplace and bake some gingerbread with his pretty neighbor.
Sundays off were a good thing indeed.
* * *
“I’ll have to let you go soon. Marshall will be here any minute.” Ainsley propped the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she gathered the baking supplies. She’d called her roommate, Tara Epworth, and had lost track of time.
She still wasn’t convinced letting Marshall help with the gingerbread was the right move. What if something happened and her tradition was ruined?
Her father had ruined more traditions than she cared to remember.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Tara’s cheerful voice rang loudly. “Just promise me you’ll stick to your rules. No unpaid overtime. Sundays off. And don’t let the mother belittle you or treat you bad. You’re doing her the favor.”
Ainsley chuckled. “I know, I know. I keep telling myself the same thing.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Actually, yes, there is something you can do. Will you pray for Belle? I’m convinced she has postpartum depression.” Ainsley didn’t worry about Tara’s reaction to prayer since they went to church together whenever possible. Tara always had her back, and Ainsley was thankful for her friendship.
“Of course I will! See? This is why I love you, Ainsley. You could be counting the minutes until you can squeal your tires out of that place, but instead you’re willing to pray for her.”
Ainsley blinked away the emotion Tara’s words brought up. “You’d do the same.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I’d tell her off and leave her to figure it out on her own. And, for the record, that would not be the right move. But I’d still do it.”
Ainsley laughed. Two raps on the front door almost made her drop the phone.
“He’s here. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, tell that hunky cowboy hello for me.”
“I did not say he was hunky.” Ainsley shook her head as her neck burst into flame.
“You implied it.”
“Oh, stop! I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Bye!”
Ainsley tossed the phone onto the counter and let Marshall inside. His nose was red as he hung up his coat.
“You look happy and cold. Were you out and about on the ranch?” She returned to the counter, where she’d lined up sugar, flour, molasses and other ingredients for the cookies.
“You could say that.”
“I thought I saw Raleigh on horseback a little while ago, but I must have mixed you two up.” She pulled cookie sheets out of the cupboard and set them next to the stove. “He’s likely helping Belle.”
Marshall scratched his chin. He had guilty stamped all over him. What was going on?
“No, you saw Raleigh. I popped in for a few minutes to check on the babies, and he threw a hissy fit and left.”
Why was Marshall going over there on a Sunday? Her internal warning system moved up from green to yellow. Had Belle asked him to check on the babies? Hadn’t Ainsley talked to him about this already?
Her father’s empty promises ran through her mind like a highlight reel of the Wyoming Cowboys’ college football game.
Marshall padded to the kitchen, turning on the faucet to wash his hands. The tight quarters didn’t help her mood. His sleeve brushed her arm and she almost jumped. Don’t lose your cool, Ainsley. Stay calm.
“Who is watching the babies?” She used her least threatening tone. “You said Raleigh left.”
“They’re fine.” He wiped his hands on the dish towel.
She had a vision of all four babies wailing in the living room while Belle hid behind the locked door of her bedroom.
“Marshall.” She captured his gaze with her own. “Who is watching them?”
Worry and guilt flitted through his expressive dark brown eyes. “Belle is.”
“For how long?” She still didn’t have much confidence in his sister at this point.
He shrugged. “Raleigh needed to check the cattle. He’ll be back soon.”
She found the mixing bowls and made space for them on the small counter. Why was she nervous about the situation? It’s what she’d wanted. Expected. Belle was taking care of her babies. Raleigh had been there earlier. And Marshall was taking the day off.
So why did it feel wrong?
He rubbed his hands together. “What do we do first?”
She wouldn’t be able to enjoy herself if she didn’t ask one more question. “Are you positive your sister is okay with the babies by herself right now?”
His face fell as he shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I texted Raleigh. And they’d all been changed and fed before I left, so I’m hoping for the best.”
She exhaled in relief. Why had she worried? Of course Marshall hadn’t walked out and left the babies screaming or starving. He’d thought enough to text Raleigh, too. He was responsible. Trustworthy.
“I’m sorry, Marshall. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
His throat worked before he replied. “I doubt myself all the time.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Inches separated them, and she felt drawn to this man. His eyes darkened and his lips parted slightly. The moment took on a life of its own. Keeping an emotional distance had never been difficult for her.
Until now.
And she didn’t like it. Didn’t like being attracted to him. Didn’t like being vulnerable.
But she liked the alternative even less.
Being vulnerable meant her heart was still beating.
She accepted she had a bond with him whether she wanted it or not. She just hoped it wouldn’t interfere with her real life in Laramie.
* * *
“Are they burning? It smells like char.” Marshall cracked a window open, but the snow he’d predicted earlier instantly flooded in, so he slammed it shut. The past couple of hours had been fun. After confessing to Ainsley he’d left Belle with the kids, she’d dropped her worried demeanor and directed him to pour ingredients into the bowl. A flour fight had ensued—the smudge on her cheek looked cute—then they’d chilled the dough before rolling out part of it. Most of the cookies had been baked. One batch of gingerbread men was in the oven, and Marshall was supposed to be cutting out cookies shaped like houses with the remains of the dough.
“They don’t look burnt. Something must have dripped in the oven the last time it was used.” She sprinkled flour on the rolling pin and resumed spreading out the dough.
If he ignored the burnt-toast smell, the aroma of cinnamon and cloves clung to the air.
“Okay, cut these out,” she said. “I’ll spread more wax paper on the table for the cookies to cool.”
“Got it.” He wanted to nudge his elbow into her side, get her to laugh, but he obeyed orders. He liked watching her bake. She followed each direction on the recipe precisely. No haphazard tearing of the wax paper for her. She ripped it down in one straight line and carefully flattened it on the table. Her lips were pursed as she stood back and checked it. She adjusted one corner slightly and came back to stand next to him.
“You can get more cookies out of this dough if you press the cutter a little closer to the edge.”
He held back a laugh. “A little closer, huh? Why don’t you show me?” He handed her the cutter and leaned back a fraction. Shameless of him to want her near him. When she bent to cut out the house, he inhaled the faded scent of her perfume.
“Don’t forget to make the little hole for the ribbon.” Using a knife, she ground out a small hole in the corner of the house. Straightening, she smiled, clearly satisfied with the end result. “I’d better check on the ones in the oven.”
“What happens next?” He continued cutting out dough while she set the hot baking sheet on top of the stove to cool.
She glanced at the clock. “It’s about suppertime. I can make us sandwiches if you’d like.”
“How about we throw a frozen pizza in the oven after this batch?”
She nodded. “Yes, please.”
“And we can put a Christmas movie on while we eat.”
“Okay, I love the way you’re thinking,” she said. “And then I’ll mix up the royal icing and, if you want to stay, you can help decorate them. Or if you’re tired, I understand.”
“I’m not a quitter.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Just don’t get mad if I sneak a little of the icing.”
“I’ll look the other way. Let me get the new batch in the oven, and I’ll clean up.”
“And I’ll grab that pizza. Be right back.” He put on his boots and went outside. Snow continued to fall in the darkness. Looked like he’d be shoveling in the morning. He didn’t mind. The frigid air added a spring to his step. He loved the crisp freshness of Wyoming in December.
Letting himself into his cabin, he paused. He hadn’t thought about Belle or Raleigh or the babies since he and Ainsley started making the cookies. He checked his phone. Four texts from Belle. One from Raleigh.
Worry clenched his stomach. What if something had happened to the children and he’d ignored Belle—for what?—to make cookies?
He quickly read the texts. The ones from Belle were all variations on the same theme. She was exhausted and needed help. One of the babies was making weird noises and she didn’t know what to do. Usually, guilt and anxiety ate him up at the messages, but a strange sense of calm had taken over earlier and pushed out the guilt. Babies made noises sometimes. She’d be okay. And so would they.
Raleigh’s made him frown. No apology. Just K.
Huh. K?
Maybe he should text them both and make sure everything was fine...
His phone dinged, and he almost dropped it. Had Belle been reading his mind? He checked the screen and let out a sigh of relief. Ainsley.
She wanted to know if he could bring over a pizza cutter. She didn’t have one.
Why, yes I can. I’ll be happy to eat pizza and watch movies with you. No drama. No babies interrupting the meal. No sister on an emotional roller coaster. And no brother-in-law barking at me.
Minutes later, he returned to Ainsley’s. She’d stacked all the cookies in a rectangular container on the counter. The bowls and measuring spoons had disappeared, leaving clean, shiny surfaces in their place. She beamed at him. “What movie do you want to watch?”
“I don’t know. Do you have a favorite?” He handed her the pizza cutter.
“I like to watch Christmas Vacation.” She had a dreamy look on her face. “I always wondered what it would be like to grow up in a big house with a family like that, you know?”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do know. How old were you when your mom left?”
“Eleven.” She found a pizza pan and set it on the counter. “It was June. She’d been telling Dad for months she’d leave if he didn’t get his act together. She finally made good on her threats.”
“What happened to make her leave?” Marshall unwrapped the frozen pizza and put it on the pan. His heartbeat started racing the way it did whenever he sensed danger or bad news. Funny how even grown up, he couldn’t shake the fear.
“The usual.” She leaned against the counter with her arms folded over her chest. “He’d emptied their bank account, disappeared for two days and waltzed in the door like nothing had happened.”
Why did her explanation relieve him? He’d feared...the worst. That Ainsley’s dad had been a horrible person like Ed.
“Mom didn’t yell at him. She was calm as could be. I think something had died inside her long before then. She looked at me and said, ‘Him or me? I’m heading out the door, and I’m never coming back.’ I didn’t know what to do. The question was impossible. I loved my dad. I knew he had a drinking problem, but I also knew he cared about me getting good grades and took me out riding when he was sober. Mom never had time for any of that.”
“Makes sense.”
She shook her head slightly, a tendril of hair dropping across her face. She pushed it behind her ear. “I didn’t choose to stay with him because he was a great father or because my mom wasn’t a caring mother.”
“I’m not following.” His gut told him he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.
Her sad eyes pierced him. “I knew he needed someone to take care of him. I couldn’t imagine what would happen to him if I left, too.”
Marshall rocked back on his heels, understanding flashing like lightning through his core. He let her words and their meaning sit there a minute. She’d loved her father and willingly stayed with him to take care of him, even though she’d been a child. The price she’d paid was high—her mother.
“I would have done the same thing, Ainsley.”
“I know you would have,” she whispered.
“How do you know?” He approached her, touching her arm. “I told you how I threatened Ed.”
“Because you were willing to take that chance if it would have protected Belle. You couldn’t have known your mother wouldn’t believe you. You had no way of knowing she’d banish you.”
Banished. Yes, that summed it up.
“She didn’t want to believe me.” He dropped his hand, but Ainsley grabbed it.
“Whatever happened wasn’t your fault. Your mom didn’t protect you or your sister, so you were put in the role.”
“I couldn’t protect Belle anymore when I was sent to Yearling Group Home. It was hours from where they lived. Do you have any idea how many times I tried to run away to help her? We were going to disappear together.”
“I thought you said she did run away.”
“She did. I think Ed had finally pushed her too far, and she was tired of living in fear. When she moved into her first foster home, she made me promise to stay put. She said she was fine and that the instant we turned eighteen, we’d have each other’s backs for good.”
The timer dinged. Ainsley turned and took the cookies out of the oven before sliding the pizza in their place.
“What happened when you turned eighteen?” Her eyes shimmered with compassion.
“We moved to Cheyenne. Got jobs at fast-food joints and rented an apartment together. Best years of my life.”
Ainsley smiled. “I love hearing happily-ever-afters. Let’s take this to the couch while the pizza cooks.”
He sat in the recliner while she tucked one leg under the other on the couch.
“What about you?” he asked. “What happened after your mom left?”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Without my mother’s income, we couldn’t pay the bills. So we moved around the state. Dad worked as a cowboy for hire at several ranches. I grew up. Graduated from high school. Worked at day care centers, waited tables. Wanted to go to college. But...”
“Who would take care of your dad?”
“Right.” She sighed. “Three years ago, he took a credit card out in my name without my knowledge. Maxed it out. I’d been saving to take online courses, and I had to use every penny and then some to pay the card off. I screamed at him. He didn’t even remember doing it. I shut down. Just completely shut down. I was done. I knew if I didn’t leave, I’d never have the kind of life I wanted. So I packed my stuff and drove to Laramie. I enrolled in the university. Left my dad my cell number and sent him a forwarding address and haven’t heard from or seen him since.”
He stood, crossing over to her, and held out his hand. She took it. He helped her to her feet and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Ainsley. I’m sorry you went through all that.”
Her cheek lay against his chest, and he wanted to keep her in his arms indefinitely. He wanted to wipe away the pain of her past. But he couldn’t even wipe away his own.
“Thanks,” she whispered. She eased out of his arms and retreated to the kitchen. “I’ll get the plates.”
Get the plates? He followed her, confused by her abrupt change in topic.
He treaded gently. “I’ve never seen my mom again either.”
“Yeah, I found out later mine had already started seeing someone else before she left us.” She flashed him a fake smile. “I heard she remarried and moved to Utah.”
“Ouch. Who do you have?” Marshall asked. “You know...who can you rely on?”
She faced him then. “God. I can always rely on God. And my roommate, Tara, is my best friend. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
God. Didn’t surprise him. Ainsley lived her faith. For a moment, he envied it about her. He turned to his faith when it was convenient. How many times had he run from God? Blamed Him for life not turning out the way he’d wanted? He only prayed when he needed something.
“Ainsley?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you still want to watch the movie? I feel bad for bringing up all these painful memories.”
“Of course I want to watch it. It makes me laugh. Gives me hope. Makes me believe my Christmas dreams exist, if that makes sense.”
“And what are your Christmas dreams?” He strained for her answer. But she shook her head.
“They don’t matter. I take life one dream at a time. I’m glad to be here with the babies. And after Christmas my real dreams will begin. I want the job in the ICU. Then, hopefully, I’ll get into the nursing program. Everything else is icing on one of these gingerbread cookies.”
Why he felt let down, he couldn’t say. Maybe he’d hoped he could play a small part in her Christmas dreams.
He almost snorted. They barely knew each other. He must be losing it.
“And now I get to ask if you have any Christmas dreams of your own.” Her face glowed.
“Nah. I’m living the dream.” If only he believed it, he might not want more. “Well, I would like to sneak one of those cookies after we ice them.”
She laughed, the sound joyous and tinkling. “I think I can arrange that. You sure you’re up for decorating ornaments?”
“I’m up for it. But first, I’ll get the movie ready.”
Spending the afternoon and evening with Ainsley was all the Christmas dream he needed. Dreams never worked out all that great for him anyhow. But if he did have one, it would be for this time with Ainsley to last.
Wanting more was a dangerous thing. It was safer to be content with what he had.