Wyoming Christmas Quadruplets. Jill KemererЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Two

      The babies and Marshall needed her.

      Ainsley reached into the trunk of her car in search of a bag she’d packed. Snow had begun to fall, and the wind was gentler than when she’d arrived. Shivering, she stomped her feet. Her favorite blanket was folded neatly on top of her supplies, and she spotted a patch of blue beneath it—the tote with markers, stickers and charts.

      Belle needed her, too, but didn’t want to admit it. Ainsley kind of understood. She didn’t particularly enjoy asking for help either. As long as Belle didn’t resent her presence, everything would be fine.

      Well, that wasn’t quite true. The resentment issue wasn’t the only problem. Belle didn’t expect Ainsley to take over all of the babies’ care, did she?

      And what about Marshall? Working with a hot, doting cowboy had better not blur her focus. She had big goals and couldn’t lose sight of them. She had to take care of herself. No one else was going to.

      After pulling out the tote bag, she slammed the trunk shut. She had over six weeks to make a difference in the quadruplets’ lives, and she was ready to start now. She was getting these infants on a schedule.

      Tightening her winter jacket around her throat, she ducked her head against the snow and scurried to the porch. The ranch house was a long, one-story wooden building with a covered porch devoid of decoration at the moment. She could imagine the posts strung with white Christmas lights and a large evergreen wreath hanging on the door.

      Glancing up, she almost jumped. Marshall had stepped outside onto the faded welcome mat. He opened the door for her. “For a minute I thought you’d taken off.”

      She shook her hair free of snow and pushed past him into the house. “Why would you think that?”

      “Well...” He scratched the back of his neck, closing the door behind them. “My sister wasn’t exactly welcoming.”

      She took off her coat and hung it on a hook in the entry. “Oh, no worries. She wants me to stay.”

      He searched her face until heat blasted her neck. Why was he looking at her so intently? With the tote over her shoulder, she strode into the living room, where both girls were in their bouncy seats, happily sucking on pacifiers. The boys’ squawks from their room hadn’t gone into full-blown crying...yet.

      “Let’s get the boys changed.” She waved for him to follow her. “Then we’ll figure out a way forward with these babies.”

      “Has anyone told you you’re efficient?” He was at her side in lightning speed.

      She almost laughed, continuing to the boys’ crib. “Yes, and it’s usually not a compliment.”

      “Trust me, it’s a compliment. At least from me.”

      Ainsley picked up Ben, and Marshall took Max. Side by side they changed diapers, then went back to the living room. After settling the boys in their bouncy seats facing the girls, Ainsley and Marshall took opposite couches.

      “If you’re too tired to do this right now...”

      “No, I’m fine.” She was tired, but she wanted to get a plan nailed down as soon as possible. She placed a pouch with markers, a folder full of stickers, her trusty clipboard and the stacks of various charts she’d printed on the coffee table. Laying them out in precise order, she reviewed the spread to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. With a satisfied nod, she straightened and gave Marshall her full attention. “First, let’s assign each baby a color.”

      “Okay.” Skepticism thinned his lips.

      “What?” She excelled at three things: organizing, helping those in need and reading people. “Something’s bothering you.”

      “It’s not bothering me, but...could you explain the color dealie? My expertise is not in babies. I’m good at fixing large farm equipment and taking care of cattle. I’m pretty new at quadruplets.”

      “Of course.” She peeked at the children—all quiet, thankfully. “Each child is assigned a color, and everything will be marked with it.”

      “You mean their clothes?”

      “Yes, we’ll dot the tags with permanent marker.”

      “Most of their clothes don’t have tags.”

      “Well, we’ll figure it out. The clothes aren’t the main thing. We’ll color the bottom of each bottle. And we’ll place stickers on the bouncy seats, car carriers and so on.”

      “Oh, I get it.” He brought his hands behind his head, leaning back. She couldn’t help noticing his muscular arms. “What about pacifiers and stuff?”

      “I think it will be too difficult to separate pacifiers. I guess we could put them into plastic storage bins labeled with their color. We can keep marking the pinkies of Grace and Max with markers, and I think this will be another way for us to keep the twins straight. Especially at bath time when the marker might wash off.”

      “Good idea.”

      “Let’s assign the colors.” She slid out a sheet of red, blue, green and yellow stickers. “Who gets what?”

      “I don’t know.” He tapped his fingertips against his jeans.

      “Who’s the happiest?” It would be fun to match the babies with colors representing their personalities. She waited for Marshall to reply.

      “Easy. Lila.”

      “She gets yellow. It’s the color of sunshine and joy.” Ainsley held up a yellow sticker. She then placed it on a piece of paper and wrote Lila next to it. “Who’s the most energetic?”

      “Ben. Definitely. His cries go from zero to ten like that.” He snapped his fingers.

      “Ben gets red. The color of fire and passion.” She placed the red sticker on the paper and wrote Ben next to it. “What about Grace and Max? Do either show signs of being a peacemaker? Or like they are attentive to the other babies’ feelings? I know this might seem silly considering how young they are.”

      He considered it for a moment. “You know, I think Grace does. I never realized it, but if Max and Ben are crying, she usually joins in.”

      “It bothers her to see her brothers upset.”

      “It’s possible.”

      “She gets green, the color of nature and harmony. Does Max seem to be more stable than the other babies? Trusting?”

      “He’s five weeks old. I really couldn’t say.”

      “You’re right.” She laughed. “Whether it suits him or not, Max gets blue, the color of the sky and stability.” After writing his name, she took out another sheet of stickers, crossed