Jingle Bell Babies. Kathryn Springer
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to work out?”
Clay’s innocent expression didn’t fool Jesse for a second.
He knew he should have followed his gut instincts. But no, in spite of his better judgment, he’d gone down to the barn and put himself in the crosshairs of Clay’s wicked sense of humor.
As far as Jesse was concerned, the topic of the nannies that had come and gone over the past few months wasn’t open for discussion. But if there was an invisible line drawn in the sand, his brother had to cross it.
“Time will tell.” Jesse chose the safest response.
Clay rolled his eyes.
“She’s very…calm,” Jesse offered.
Really calm.
Lori hadn’t seemed a bit rattled by the prebreakfast commotion. Jesse was always a little overwhelmed in the morning, when all three girls woke up within minutes of each other, bawling like newborn calves for their breakfast.
In his mind’s eye, he saw Lori’s lips purse as she blew a kiss to Madison. He shook the image away, but another one—of Lori tickling the bottom of Sasha’s tiny foot while Brooke wailed for her share of the attention—took its place.
“Patient,” he added.
“That should work in your favor.”
“I meant patient with the girls.”
“Right. Sorry.” Clay grinned. “And she didn’t run screaming back to High Plains when she saw the living room. That’s a good sign.”
Jesse had thought so, too.
Not that he hadn’t tried to keep up with the housework. And the laundry. And the cooking.
Even with two hired hands pulling ten-hour days and Clay coming onboard to help, Jesse had a difficult time staying on top of things at the ranch. It took every ounce of his energy to take care of the triplets in the evening and find a few free hours to work on the books. When he’d let the last nanny go two days before Tommy turned up missing, the house had taken a downward spiral.
Who was he kidding? Downward spiral? It had already hit bottom. Crashed and burned.
“I’m having dinner with Nicki so I won’t be around this evening.” Clay reached out and clipped Jesse lightly on the shoulder with his fist. “Lori sounds too good to be true. Don’t mess this up.”
“Me?”
“I’ve got two words for you: five nannies.”
“I wasn’t the problem.” Jesse glared at his brother. “They weren’t what I…expected.”
The teasing sparkle in Clay’s eyes faded. “Jess…” He paused, as if trying to find the right words. “You can’t expect the girls’ nanny to be like their…mother. It’s not the same. It’s not going to look the same.”
His brother didn’t realize the truckload of irony in that statement, Jesse thought. Marie hadn’t wanted to be a mother. He’d watched her emotionally distance herself from the girls—the same way she had with him.
He had prayed. Back then. He prayed she would eventually come around. He prayed she would see the girls for the miraculous gift they were—but those hopes had been crushed when he found the note and her wedding rings that day.
A wave of bitterness swept through him. Belief in answered prayer. Hope. At one time, Jesse had had a surplus of both. But that was before he’d realized they left a lingering aftertaste of disappointment.
“I know this has been hard for you, Jess, but I’m here to help.” Clay met his gaze. “Not just with the ranch but with…everything.”
“Yeah, but for how long?” Jesse retorted.
As soon as he saw the shadow skim through his brother’s eyes, Jesse silently berated himself.
“For as long as you want me to, whether you believe it or not.” Clay’s quiet promise weighted the air between them.
He sauntered out of the barn and Jesse closed his eyes.
What had happened to him?
Over the past six months, Jesse had been waiting for a sign that the well of bitterness inside of him was beginning to dry up. But instead, he felt as if it were constantly being replenished by an unknown source.
Maya told him that he had to let God work in his heart but Jesse wondered if he was beyond repair. Sometimes he thought the only thing that kept his heart beating was his daughters’ sunny smiles.
She could do this.
Lori surveyed the living room and took a moment to regroup.
Triplets fed and dressed: check.
Laundry started: check.
Supper in the Crock-Pot: check.
Kitchen—
Lori winced. That room definitely fell under the promise: I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. She planned to tackle that particular project while the girls took their morning nap.
After giving the triplets their bottles, Lori spread out a hand-pieced quilt on the floor of the living room and put all three babies in the center. While they worked their way to the edges, she deposited the toys into a large wicker hamper and sorted through the clothing draped over the swings.
Apparently, the men in the household had discovered a handy place to hang up their laundry after it came out of the dryer, saving the work of having to fold it and put it away.
Lori shook the wrinkles out of a faded denim work shirt and the subtle scent of sage and soap drifted into the air.
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