This cart isn’t big enough.” There was a sturdy metal crib in her father’s office but he’d need it if anyone brought in a sick baby. “Are you used to sleeping together?” She looked from one to the other. “You’re not going to tell me? Well, fine. I’ll figure it out myself.”
Theo’s bottom lip quivered. Louisa recognized it as the precursor to his crying. Once he started, all three would cry. “I’ll have something for you to eat in a moment. But please don’t cry. It’s hard on the ears.” She had left oatmeal simmering on the back of the stove and it was now well cooked, suitable for babies. Father suggested they be introduced to foods slowly until it could be determined if they were used to eating solids yet.
She poured milk into a cup. Eyed the two other cups she’d pulled from the cupboard. But she only had two hands and it took one to steady the baby and the other to hold the cup. She ignored the remaining cups. She’d go from baby to baby letting them drink. She started with Theo as he seemed the one who cried the easiest. Jasper bounced up and down, eager for his turn. Eli watched placidly, so she gave him the cup last.
She prepared the oatmeal, then sat them up in the cart and went from one mouth to the other feeding them. Before she made the round, the first mouth popped open, waiting. She laughed softly. “I feel like a mother bird.”
Theo’s cheeks grew flushed and he refused more food.
“Poor baby. Your fever has returned. And your ears are sore.”
All three of them grew flushed. How was she to sponge them at the same time? “You wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”
They sobbed and pulled at their ears. She dashed out the back door and grabbed the washtub off the nail on the wall. Thankfully the water pails were full. Otherwise how was she to get water and watch the babies at the same time? Her respect and sympathy for the ill mother grew by leaps and bounds.
She poured a few inches of tepid water into the square washtub and then stripped the boys of their cute little shirts. For a moment she hesitated. How was she to tell them apart without the shirts with their names on them? She studied them hard. They looked as alike as three peas but they acted differently. Theo was the shiest, cried the easiest and sucked his thumb. Eli was the most watchful of the three and seemed to react to what he saw around him. He liked being close to his brothers. Jasper was the friendliest. But just to be sure, she tied a different colored bit of yarn around each ankle.
Satisfied she could tell them apart, she sat them side by side in the tub, supported against the sides so they couldn’t fall, and as she splashed water over the babies to cool their fevered bodies, she sang a lullaby she’d once sung to Amy to soothe her.
Jasper laughed and batted at the water. Eli’s eyelids drooped and Theo sucked his thumb.
“Nap time.” But where were they to sleep? The cart was too small. They weren’t safe on a bed. They’d roll off or crawl off. That left the floor as the safest place. She dressed the babies and put them in the cart, then spread a thick quilt in the middle of the living room floor.
Eli was almost asleep and she put him down first. He opened his eyes, but as she laid Theo beside him, he snuggled close to his brother and closed his eyes again. She laid Jasper on the other side of Eli and soon the three of them slept.
She wandered to the open window to listen to the sound of music, cattle and many voices blended together. Seemed the fair was going well. The league would be able to add to their coffers. Disappointment stained her thoughts. She had been looking forward to seeing the many booths, listening to the fiddlers, buying a treat from one of the concessions. Truth was, she’d anticipated a few hours of fun. Squaring her shoulders, she turned from the window and watched the three little boys. A smile filled her heart and warmed her eyes. These three were every bit as much fun as a fair.
How long would they sleep? She had no idea. But she wasn’t prepared to leave them unattended and slipped to her room to get her Bible. She sat in the big armchair where she could keep an eye on the babies and opened the Bible. She stroked her fingers over the pages. Only eight years old when her mother presented it to her, she’d read it so often that it was now well-worn and much loved. The gold gilt had worn off the edges; a couple of pages were loose. Eventually she would have to get a new one, but giving up this one would be like losing a dear friend.
The book fell open to one of her favorite passages. Psalm eighteen. She read a couple of the verses that meant the most to her. “He delivered me because he delighted in me. It is God that girdeth me with strength and maketh my way perfect.” Sweet calming peace filled her soul. The way laid out before her required sacrifices but none that God couldn’t satisfy in other ways. Making sure Mother was happy and well cared for provided her with joy. Her glance went from the babies to the door of the room where Mother would sleep. Would taking care of the triplets mean she wouldn’t have the room ready for Mother’s arrival?
The details were in God’s almighty hands, so Louisa need not fret.
A footfall sounded on the outside step and she rushed to the door before anyone could knock or call out and wake her charges.
If they were looking for Father, she would send them to the fairgrounds, where he had stayed to take care of any injuries that might occur. She eased open the door, her finger pressed to her lips to signal the caller to quiet. Her hand dropped to her side as she looked into the silvery eyes of Bo Stillwater. “Is something wrong?” Why else would he come? She glanced over her shoulder. If Father needed her, who would stay with the babies?
He lifted a towel off the plate in his hand. “I brought you a piece of pie.” There were four slices. “I didn’t know which was your favorite, so you have a selection. Apple, raisin, blackberry or, my favorite, peach.”
“Oh, my.” Was that the best she could come up with? But his thoughtfulness left her practically speechless. Somehow she expected him to be enjoying the adulation of the many young ladies at the fair. Perhaps she’d misjudged him. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Will you come in and join me? We’ll have to be quiet.” She tipped her head to indicate the sleeping babies.
For answer, he tiptoed in and closed the door quietly behind him.
She crooked her finger to indicate he should follow her to the kitchen. They eased past the baby-covered quilt. She pointed to a chair and he sat while she took two small plates and two forks from the cupboard. “I love raisin.” She took that slice and pushed the peach one to a plate and handed it to him.
He thanked her. “I judged the pie contest.”
“Really? Who won?”
“A Mrs. Rawlings with her apple pie. She isn’t from this area.” He savored a bite of the peach pie. “Good but not as good as my ma used to make.”
“Your mother is dead?”
“She died when I was sixteen.” He ate his pie slowly, thoughtfully as if lost in memories.
“I’m sorry.” She meant to do everything in her power to keep her own mother alive for a good many more years.
“Me too.”
“And your father?”
“He passed away almost five years ago.”
She wondered at the harshness of his voice. “You must miss him a lot.”
“Not as much as you’d expect.” Seeing the surprise and curiosity in her study of him, he added, “He wasn’t a nice man.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear that.”
His hand paused halfway to his mouth with another bite of pie on his fork. “Not half as sorry as Brandon and I were to live with it.” He lowered his fork to his plate with the pie still there. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually grouse about my past. Forget I said anything.” A beat of regret, and then he tipped his head toward her plate. “You haven’t tasted it yet.”
She took a bite, chewed slowly and let the flavors lie on her tongue a moment before she swallowed.