Nine
It had been a long day at work down at the bakery and Jack Balker was happy to finally be pulling into his driveway on Sunfish Lane.
He put his “Macho Man” minivan, as he enjoyed jokingly calling it, into park and was greeted by a scrawny and shirtless ten-year-old redhead boy being chased through a sprinkler by a black Labrador retriever.
“Home sweet home,” Jack said, unbuckling his seat belt and reaching over to the passenger seat for leftover cupcakes. Being a baker wasn’t the most glorious job in the world, or the highest paying. The days he was able to bring surprises back home to his son, Sam, more than made up for it.
The shirtless Sam ran up to the minivan as Jack got out.
“Whatcha got today, Dad?” he asked behind a mat of wet hair covering his eyes. His freckles beamed with his curiosity.
“One-day-old peanut butter and chocolate cupcakes baked by yours truly. Think your mom will like them?”
“She hates peanut butter.”
“I know. That’s why I brought them home so we can have them,” Jack said, chuckling.
Sam started jumping up and down, like all children do when there’s a treat in front of them that’s out of reach. His canine comrade, Milo, watched in excitement and started copying him.
“Can I have one now?” Sam asked.
“You trying to make me have to sleep on the couch tonight?”
Jack ruffled Sam’s wet hair and headed for the front door of the house.
It was a nice-looking two-story Cape-style house colored yellow with white framing.
Trees lined the sides of its yard instead of neighbors’ houses, which was exactly why Jack and his wife Lindsey picked it and moved in the previous year, despite it having numerous problems from having been abandoned for almost four years. Privacy was what they were looking for, and they had found it here. Their backyard was safe from any prying eyes, surrounded by a forest that went on and on, as far as Jack knew. He also knew that he needed to fix the cracked outside light that was flickering on and off due to water getting into it from the broken gutter above. The house was still a work in progress, if you asked him. Nevertheless, it was home all the same.
“You and Milo come back inside before dark,” he said. “And make sure you two dry off. If you come into the house wet like a fish, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Okay, Dad! Don’t eat all the cupcakes without me!”
“I’ll try not to,” Jack said, smiling. “No promises.”
Sam went back to playing with Milo and Jack headed inside, cursing under his breath at the leaky gutter.