Marc gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Yeah, the thing is, I don’t even know that he was called in. I think he took the shift on purpose.”
“Why? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t know what’s going on with Ian these days. But Kylie’s not happy.” Marc glances around, making sure our sister-in-law isn’t in earshot. “I think they’re having trouble.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“Been a tough year for them.”
“That’s an understatement.” The pandemic patients that flooded Ian’s hospital, and then Allie’s cancer.
“Not sure it brought them together. That’s all. Ian’s working more hours, not less. I think he’s avoiding being home. I think he’s—”
Kylie bustles into the kitchen then and Marc clams up. We both look at her with concern.
“What?” she says, hands flying to her dark hair. “Do I have glitter in my hair?”
“No, you’re good,” I say, then swallow. “I was wondering where Ian was. Is he avoiding us?”
A strained look passes across Kylie’s face. “He’s working. Saving lives.” She smiles brightly. Too brightly. Definitely something going on there. But now is not the time to press.
“Shall I get Allie’s cake ready?” I ask Kylie.
She brightens, grateful for the distraction. “Yes! Please. I’ll wrangle the kids.”
In a few minutes, everybody’s sitting around the kitchen table,the party guests with their eyes on the cake boxes. I brought two: one for Allie, and one for everyone else. Because this time last year, she could barely eat the cake we brought to the hospital. Chemo and radiation knocked out her appetite. She got two bites before she couldn’t eat anymore. Not this year. Not on my watch.
I pull out the chocolate-on-chocolate cake—the round onejustfor her. Her eyes grow big as she sees that I’ve scrawled “Happy 5th Birthday, Allie!” in loopy pink icing—her favorite color.
I stick a candle in the top, and Mom helps light it. We all gather in the room for a rendition of the birthday song. Allie glances at each one of us, face beaming with pure joy. When we finish, I nod at her.
“Make a wish,” I say.
She squeezes her eyes shut, taking the wish completely seriously, and it kills me. She opens her eyes.
“What did you wish for?” I ask.
“You know I can’t tell you that!” she cries, and giggles.
“Good girl.” I grin. Then I grab a fork from the table. “Go ahead,” I tell her.
“Really?” She blinks.
“This isyourcake. You don’t have to share it withanyone.Especially Uncle Marc.”
“Hey,” Marc cries in protest.
“Now, who’s your favorite uncle?” I ask Allie.
“Uncle Jack!” she cries.
Marc, frowning, shakes his head slowly in defeat. She hugs me and I stick out my tongue over her shoulder. Take that, Marc. Uncle Jack: 1, Uncle Marc: 0.
“Careful you don’t eat all of that at once! You’ll get a stomachache!” Kylie chides, but she doesn’t really mean it. She sends me a grateful smile as she cuts pieces of the other chocolate sheet cake I brought for the guests.
Allie rips into her cake and soon it’s all over her face, a big chocolate clown smile. That’s a 180-degree turn from last year, when she’d been pale and bald, barely able to hold her little head up in that oversize hospital bed. I love seeing her so happy, and I’m glad she’s enjoying the cake I made. Kylie hands me a piece and I stand with Mom, Dad, Marc, and Kylie as we dig in. Not bad, if I do say so myself.
“How’s the bakery coming?” Dad asks me. He and Mom have been champions of the whole idea of me going out on my own.
