Chapter 33

thirty-three

LIAM

That evening, Paul handed me a piping bag. "You'll need a constant flow of frosting coming through the nozzle. Otherwise, the edge of the cookies will look blobby."

"Blobby?"

"Like this." Holding his piping bag above the kitchen counter, Paul gave the bag a quick squeeze before going back to an even flow. He pointed at the mound of icing. "That's blobby."

I rolled my shoulders. "I'm ready."

After we'd decorated the Christmas tree, Nora wanted to bake cookies. After a marathon effort, more than four dozen cookies were now sitting on the kitchen counter waiting to be decorated.

Amy was already holding her piping bag. "You'll be okay, Liam. If you want, you can watch me."

From out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paul smile. Amy loved decorating cookies as much as choosing a tree.

"That's a great idea, Amy. Which cookie are you going to decorate first?"

She looked at the cookies on the counter. "I think I'll frost this one." She picked up a star-shaped cookie and grinned at me. "We could leave some cookies on a plate for Santa."

"Do you think we'll still have any left by Christmas Eve?"

"We could put them in the freezer. That's what Uncle Paul did for my friend's birthday party. They still tasted yummy." Amy twisted the piping bag and moved the nozzle along the edge of the cookie.

"It doesn't have to be perfect," she said in a hushed whisper. "But it's better if you keep the frosting close to the edge." In next to no time, she'd outlined the cookie in bright red icing.

"You're really good," I said. "Do you help Paul decorate all his cakes and cookies?"

"Not all of them. But sometimes I make butterflies and flowers with fondant icing."

Paul handed me a cookie. "Amy makes wonderful fondant shapes. Now it's your turn to decorate a cookie."

I held the piping bag over the round cookie and squeezed the icing down the nozzle.

"That's really good," Amy said encouragingly. "It doesn't matter if you get a bit wobbly near the end. Everyone does that."

When I was finished, I breathed a sigh of relief. Even if I did say so myself, it wasn't a bad effort for a beginner.

"Well done," Paul said. "Once we've finished the outlines on all the cookies, we'll go back and fill the ones we did first."

Amy chose another star-shaped cookie. "The line around the edge has to be dry before you decorate the rest of the cookie. Otherwise, the icing goes everywhere."

"I didn't know that." I'd always enjoyed Christmas cookies without thinking about the effort that had gone into creating them. After seeing how Paul and Amy carefully decorated their cookies, I wouldn't take them for granted again.

With Christmas music playing and more than one cookie being eaten, we slowly outlined all the cookies. I was surprised at how much I was enjoying myself. My mom had been a great cook, but I hadn't sat still long enough to help her in the kitchen.

Since I'd left home, cooking was a necessity rather than a pleasure. For Paul, baking not only had provided him with a career, it gave him a chance to spend lots of time with Amy.

I looked across at her and smiled. She was yawning so hard that her mouth was practically glued open. "Someone's tired."

Amy quickly closed her mouth. "I want to stay up with you and Uncle Paul."

Paul glanced at the kitchen clock. "It's time for bed. It's been a big day."

"Do I have to go to bed?" Amy asked. "I want to decorate more cookies."

I knew how much she was enjoying being with us. "We could put some aside for you to decorate tomorrow."

"Okay." Amy sighed and handed Paul her piping bag. "Can you keep some red icing for me?"

He kissed the side of her head. "Of course, I can. And if we have enough time tomorrow, we'll decorate the Christmas cakes, too."

Amy grinned at her uncle. "Are you going to make dragon Christmas cakes?"

"Not dragons, but we could make Santa's workshop and something else. "

Amy jumped off the kitchen chair. "What if one of the cakes looked like a big Christmas present? It could have pink spots and a yellow ribbon on top."

Paul washed his hands under the faucet. "That sounds like an amazing cake to me."

I knelt beside Amy. "Thank you for showing me how to frost the cookies."

"That's okay, Liam. I like helping you." She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a hug. "I love you."

My arms tightened around her little body. It had been so long since anyone had said they loved me that it took me a moment to reply. "I love you, too. Sweet dreams."

When Amy stepped away, Paul scooped her into his arms. "What story are we reading tonight?"

"Hairy Maclary from Donaldson's Dairy!"

I looked bemusedly between Amy and Paul.

"Hairy Maclary's a little black dog," Paul explained. "He has all sorts of adventures with other dogs."

"And lots of cats," Amy added.

"Definitely lots of cats." Paul tightened his hold on his niece. "Let's see what adventures Hairy Maclary has been up to."

"And Bottomley Potts all covered in spots, and Hercules Morse as big as a horse."

"And Hairy Maclary from Donaldson's Dairy," Paul said in a sing-song voice with Amy.

I'd never heard of the book, but it must be one of Amy's favorites.

After she giggled her way out of the kitchen, I sat on the chair she'd been using and sighed. I'd forgotten what it felt like to hear a child say they loved me, to know that whatever happened, they trusted me with their life.

And I knew the pain of not being able to live up to their expectations. Of letting them down in the worst possible way.

Without knowing how it had happened, I'd stepped into an emotional web that could only end in heartache.

And that was the last thing I wanted for anyone.